Chapter One
– THE PROBLEMATIC PROPHET –
In a perfectly ordinary street named Privet Drive, there was a perfectly ordinary house named Number 4, and in that perfectly ordinary house was a perfectly ordinary family called the Dursleys – including a very unordinary boy indeed.
Harry Potter was certainly very unordinary, and differed greatly to other boys his age. He dreaded the summer holidays, he loved school, he did his homework in secret, and he often dreamed at night about riding a flying broom. It was to be expected, seeing as though he was a wizard.
It was late afternoon, and he was in his room, rifling through today's edition of the Daily Prophet. It was very recently his birthday, and his birthday presents were scattered around his room; a model of a flying Ford Anglia from Ron Weasley, that made Harry grin and remember their second year and their unconventional ride to Hogwarts; a mirror from Mrs Weasley that shouted at Harry if he didn't brush his teeth more than two minutes, though he made sure he didn't install it in the Dursley's bathroom; a rubber duck from Mr Weasley; a box of heart-shaped chocolates from Ginny Weasley, who had been very taken with Harry since his first year; a thick book about the United Kingdom's Quidditch teams throughout history, from Hermione; a large rock cake from Hagrid which Harry hadn't touched; a collection of volumes about Dark creatures from Lupin; and from Sirius was a set of mischief-making drinks, including an Temporary Ageing Potion, a Teeth-Blackening Brew and a Pimple-Producing tonic.
He was reading the Daily Prophet in his bedroom. There was one story about a newfound spell that duplicated oneself and lasted for a very long time, but Harry looked away from that. Another article with a moving picture of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, dropping his hat clumsily and putting it back on hastily caught his eye.
SIRIUS BLACK: "Threat diminished," Fudge says.
Notorious criminal Sirius Black escaped from high-security prison Azkaban last year and no Aurors have been able to track down this incognito murderer – but Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic says the threat of Sirius Black is reduced largely.
"Last year," Fudge said to the Daily Prophet interview team, a little flustered, "We were … mostly convinced that Sirius Black was after Harr– uh, a Hogwarts student, or something at the school. That's why we installed the Dementors at Hogwarts … hoping that they would be able to catch him. However, they didn't, uh, succeed, in the task. A professor from Hogwarts managed to capture him, and we withheld him in a highly-guarded office while we rounded up the Dementors for the kiss, but … he managed to escape … from us … again."
"Despite that," Fudge continued, laughing nervously and fiddling with his bowler hat, "Sirius Black has not been seen since that incident … has not killed anyone recently … no deaths … that's all jolly good. We at the Ministry believe that this is a good sign. Sirius Black may have no doubt fallen into the jaws of a Gringotts dragon, or eaten by a Chimaera. All level ten security procedures may lower into a level five."
The interview with the Minister, republished in today's Prophet from yesterday, was met with outrage and shock.
"How dare the Minister say that?" a Ministry worker who did not wish to be named says. "He cannot just assume that Sirius Black is gone! For all we know, he could be biding his time, waiting to massacre all of us when we let our guard down!"
"The Minister's words are a little desperate," giggled Griselda Grey, Vice-Chief of the Wizengamot and Head of the Magical Education Facilities in Europe. "I mean, we all want Sirius Black done and dead, but we can't just let our hopes get up, right? We ought to maintain the level ten security measures, instead of drastically reducing it to an ordinary five. Plus, as you know, the terror attacks – probably just the work of half-breed activists, but still, precaution is precaution! – happening should be evidence enough to Cornelius that we should stay as level ten security measures."
For readers who do not know, the Reasonable Security Levels recently created by the Department of Magic Law Enforcement are as follows:
Level 1 – Complete and Utter Safety and No Need for Security Measures At All
Level 2 – Minor Issues, Unrelated to Current Activities
Level 3 – Slight Problems, Nothing Unsolvable
Level 4 – Daily Life Matters
Level 5 – An Average Day, Entailing Several Personal Matters plus World Issues
Level 10 – Serious Difficulties, Don't Go Out at Night
Level 15 – Severe Difficulties, Don't Go Out, Ever
Level 20 – Dead by Tomorrow Morning
Griselda goes on to say, "I do hope, sooner rather than later, that Cornelius Fudge realises what a difficult situation magical Britain is facing at the moment. Otherwise, we may have to … elect a new Minister."
Severus Snape, Potions professor at Hogwarts School and the one who apprehended Sirius Black last year had this to say: "I, for one, personally knew Black at my time as a student at Hogwarts. He was a vindictive, deceitful hellion and thought school rules much below him. I see no evidence to support otherwise that Black is not lying in wait, ready to murder a few … particular people, and perhaps to return to the Dark Lord and continue his dark work."
Fudge has not replied to the outcry responding to the questionable interview published yesterday.
Perhaps the one good thing from Fudge's laxness is that the horrendous Dementors, Azkaban's guards, no longer occupy Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Express sets off on the 1st of September, and many are glad that they won't be greeting any more Dementors when they arrive.
Harry read the article, frowning more and more as he scanned down. The mention of his least favourite professor, potions master Severus Snape, who hated Harry because he was jealous of Harry's father, was disconcerting, but there were other issues that troubled Harry. The 'notorious criminal' Sirius Black mentioned was Harry's godfather. Like everybody else, he had, until a year ago, thought Sirius Black was the sinister murderer that had killed a dozen Muggles and one wizard thirteen years ago. Some other people who knew more about Sirius and the Potters, Harry's parents, believed that Sirius had betrayed Lily and James Potter to Lord Voldemort. One day, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, a feat nobody had achieved before. Everyone became paranoid and kept Harry under close watch, because they believed Sirius was after Harry, to kill him.
At the end of the year, Harry found out that Sirius Black was not a traitor after all, and Sirius had been searching for Peter Pettigrew, his former best friend who was the one who actually betrayed Lily and James. Pettigrew, nicknamed Wormtail, was an Animagus – a person who could turn into an animal – and had been disguising himself as Harry's best friend's rat for fourteen years, with the whole wizarding world under the illusion that Pettigrew was dead. Though Harry and his best friends Ron and Hermione had found out Sirius was innocent, Wormtail escaped before they could clear Sirius's name.
Though Harry knew the true story of what happened and knew that nobody would believe him, he was kind of shell-shocked at Fudge's decision to lower security. What was he playing at? Maybe Fudge was a little ignorant sometimes, a little pompous, but he definitely wasn't stupid.
Harry, flicking his eyes from a story about a graveyard in Little Hangleton being completely cleared of all the bodies and graves, spotted a smallish article, stuffed into the back of the newspaper as if it wasn't important.
INCOGNITO ATTACKS FREQUENT IN LONDON
Since the first one in June, there have been countless, sometimes major, mostly minor attacks in magical places such as wizarding homes, monuments, the Magizoologist Museum and even an attempt on the Ministry itself. At first, many speculated the earliest offence – the beheading of the statue of Glynde Gooch, a famous Muggleborn Healer – was a freak weather accident, or a childish prank, but the attacks have escalated.
Since then, we've experienced burnings of Muggleborn wizard's and witch's homes, the abduction of their pets and possessions and even everlasting rainclouds with no counter-jinx that follow them wherever they go. Well-known Muggle sympathisers like the Weasley family have had their home – affectionately called the Burrow – set ablaze –
Harry widened his eyes – the Weasleys were a kind, generous family, they treated him like their own–
Thankfully, nobody has died or been critically injured as of yet. While some serious injuries, like broken bones and concussions, have occurred, it's nothing experienced Healers can't fix with Skelegro or healing spells. Heddwyn Montgomery, worker in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement said, "This is not the work of childish pranksters. This is the experienced, seasoned hexes and curses of adults. These are horrible, terrible antics against Muggleborns, and if you are one of these brutes performing these cruel practical jokes, be ashamed of yourself and STOP. Everyone, be on alert. Anyone with information, we plead you to come forward. Aurors are searching currently for any guiding light in this darkness."
Harry thought he might have an idea who the attacker was – Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizarding ever this century. Wormtail, once Harry's father's best friend, had betrayed Harry's mother and father to Voldemort. Lord Voldemort had crept into Harry's house on that fateful night, and murdered Lily and James Potter. Voldemort had then turned his wand onto Harry and performed a curse that had killed countless others. For reasons unclear to Harry and most of the wizarding world, that night, the curse had rebounded from Harry and hit Voldemort, leaving Harry with nothing but a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Voldemort, his life force rapidly running out and reduced to almost nothing, had fled and hidden for the last thirteen years, slowly regrowing. That night, Voldemort's supporters and followers had disbanded, and the terror on the wizarding community had been lifted, leaving Harry an orphan, but a celebrity. This was the reason Harry had been left with his dreadful aunt and uncle, his only living relatives.
Feeling perturbed, Harry rummaged through the paper again and found a very small article crammed into the corner of other, huger stories.
Unfortunate Death Happens at Ministry
Alarmed, Harry read on.
"Unspeakable" Jerome Jonatus has deceased in an accident in the Ministry of Magic. An Unspeakable is a person who works in the Department of Mysteries, a shrouded and secret department in the Ministry. This accident was not anybody's fault. Condolences go to his family.
Harry reread the article many times. What? There were no details! There were no specifications! The article, which would've taken less than two lines in the normal script of the Prophet, was wedged into a tiny text box in the corner of the page, so Harry had to squint to read it. An equally tiny picture of a smiling man supposably Jerome Jonatus was squashed underneath the text.
This story, this death, was important! More important than talking animals, which took up the entirety of two pages, plus a moving picture of a dog speaking fluent English. Utterly confused and frowning, Harry used some scissors to cut out the incredibly miniature piece and placed it in Wizarding Diseases and Their Cures, a tiny volume with tiny text, so at least he wouldn't lose it.
Harry foraged through the Prophet for any more stories, while drinking some tea he sneaked up from the kitchen (his uncle, aunt and cousin did not believe he had the right to drink their tea). He found another one that made him drop his jaw and spill his tea onto the carpet.
HOGWARTS TO BE INSPECTED NEXT YEAR
The Inspection and Investigation of Magical Education Institutions in Europe is a decadal examination and scrutiny of all evaluation and examination of schools in Europe, namely Hogwarts. No school has ever failed the assessment (with the exception of Frogwarts School, which we do not speak of), but this year the standards have been set even higher, with the Wizengamot's very own Vice-Chief and Ministry's Head of Magical Education, Griselda Grey, running the show this year.
When interviewed by the Daily Prophet, she had this to say:
"I mean, I'm not going to brag or anything, but I believe I can further extend the qualities and standards of education this decade. I'll be examining schools on not only educative and academic aspects like class work, student participation, teacher work standards, but also social relations, such as teacher-student friendships, houses, rewards and how their given, friendship, study and play groups. I'll scrutinise the school's workings, find out the teachers' backgrounds and how they were hired, and I'll exemplify how a good, working citizen should act."
When asked which schools she would be testing, Griselda laughed.
"Oh, all of them, of course! I'll go to the usual; Hogwarts, Salemsong, Beauxbatons, Aquafors, and many more. I intend to stay at the schools for maybe a month or so to inspect and grade them as best as I can and make Europe even more advanced in magical education."
"We – the Magical Education Office, that is – are excited to know that Hogwarts has managed to find another Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the famous ex-Auror, renowned for his jinx-happy attitude," Griselda said, smiling, "who I hope will stay at the job long enough for me to grade him. There are some doubts on whether Mad-Eye Moody will be able to teach, always known for his paranoia and little doubt of murderers and assassins almost everywhere, but I'm sure we can bring him up to a proper standard. If not, Hogwarts maybe have to hire a new professor."
Rumours are, the job's jinxed.
Harry, despite himself, couldn't fight a grin. He was going to his fourth year at Hogwarts in September, and his previous three years had been chaotic and catastrophic. In those three years, he had had three Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers; one of them dead, one of them with his memory removed, one of them resigned. Each had left at the end of the year.
Then, he frowned. Hogwarts was having an inspection? He'd never heard of anyone saying something like this was going to happen. Hogwarts, the most prestigious school in the world, was probably going to pass. Harry certainly hoped it did.
The next article made him a little disappointed.
QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP FINAL CANCELLED
"The Quidditch World Cup Final between the Irish Team and the Bulgaria team has been indefinitely called off, ever since the mysterious, unknown terror attacks happening in London," says Ludo Bagman, Head of Sports Department and former Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. Worries are that the Quidditch World Cup, a huge, international event will be the catalyst for attacks and riots from what some speculate to be the House-Elf Liberation Promoters (commonly, HELP), the Half-Breed Rights Campaign and Merpeople Justice Activists, all half-breed committees set on giving half-breeds rights and infamous for their riots – though an anonymous person suspects that the riots might be from somebody else…
Uninterested, Harry skipped the article and read more.
Suddenly, he heard heavy, hefty footsteps pounding up the stairs. The only person in the world – maybe except for Hagrid, the kind, gigantic game keeper and Care for Magical Creatures professor – who could make such a ruckus was Vernon Dursley, who had the bulk of a whale.
"Oi – boy – it's dinner – yeh better get down here –" Uncle Vernon said jerkily, and Harry knew this was because they had learned Sirius Black, who was also on the Muggle news, was Harry's godfather and could come to Privet Drive anytime and turn everybody to frogs or something. Vernon came into the room, stared at the floor and turned beet red. "Look at the floor!"
Harry looked at the floor. "I'm looking at the floor."
"What – what – the tea stain –" Uncle Vernon said, pointing at the spilt tea like it was a disease or something.
"What? Oh, the tea. Don't worry, I'll clean that up," Harry said, still looking through the Daily Prophet.
"N-NO!" Uncle Vernon yelled suddenly, and Harry jumped. "You can't just take tea from the kitchen and make a mess and expect it to clean itself!"
Harry's temper was rising, but he refused to look away from the newspaper. "I just said that I would clean it up when I'm finished reading the paper–"
Vernon violently snatched the Daily Prophet from Harry's hands and scowled as he scanned the news. "Rubbish … codswallop … nonsense … Quidditch? … bloody hell …"
"Give it back." Harry felt his blood turn hot.
"You shall not read this – this – this balderdash, this gibberish in my home!" Vernon said, wildly waving the roll of newspaper in the air.
Harry, involuntarily, felt a snakelike urge. He felt terror and rage tremble through him, fury at the man who had allowed him to be bullied, and then bullied him himself. He wanted to reach for his wand, whip it out, and curse Uncle Vernon into oblivion. He wanted to leave this household, to never step foot in it again and to live a Dursley-free life, maybe with Sirius. But then, he remembered Dumbledore, the man who had always been right and clever and truthful and who had told him that staying with the Dursleys was Harry's best options.
Reluctantly, Harry calmed down and looked away from Uncle Vernon. "Right. Sorry, Uncle Vernon. I won't read anymore. I'll clean the mess and go down for dinner."
"Right," Uncle Vernon said, twisting his face in triumph. "You do that – and be quick."
Secretly, Harry wanted to cast Tergeo, the incantation of a spell that siphoned off any liquid, but he had some mixed feelings about the Ministry and their Reasonable Restriction for Underage Magic. Once, a house-elf had used a Hovering Charm on a cake in 4 Privet Drive, and Harry had received a warning from the Ministry not to use magic at home. The next time, Harry had this time actually used magic on somebody else and had not been warned or charged at all. He wasn't going to take any chances.
After cleaning the carpet, he went downstairs for dinner, where the Dursleys mainly ignored him, which Harry didn't mind at all. Harry looked across the table and saw a terribly distraught Aunt Petunia comforting a stubbornly angry Dudley. Harry hid a grin. Dudley was – and this wasn't to be rude or anything, but factual – incredibly, enormously, immensely fat. He was the size of an average baby whale, and this matter was raised in his yearly report, along with the fact Dudley was a bully and cheated in tests. The school was concerned about Dudley's weight and size, and especially because the school didn't sell any uniforms the size and weight of a young killer while. Finally, after tantrums and arguments, screams and sobs, the regime began, a diet which involved throwing away sodas, lollies, crisps, chocolate and burgers, and replacing that with apples and bran biscuits and wholegrain bread and celery sticks. To make Dudley feel better, Aunt Petunia made the rest of the family join in on the diet, which made Harry, already skinny and stick-like from years of malnourishment, even more skeletal. Today's special was lettuce, which Uncle Vernon prodded with his fork.
"Petunia, dear, can't we–?" Uncle Vernon began pleadingly.
"No. And that is final." Petunia sent a warning glare at her husband and he sighed loudly.
"I'm not eating this – this rabbit food!" Uncle Vernon muttered.
"You will."
Uncle Vernon grumbled under his breath and finished his lettuce leaves and left back to his study. After Petunia's constant begging, Dudley finally finished his lettuce and then left to play video games. Aunt Petunia shooed Harry away and told him she was going to clean the dishes. (Though Harry tried to point there wasn't any point, really, in washing them, she sent him a terrible glower that reminded him on Professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House at Hogwarts.)
Harry went back to his bedroom and fell asleep, and had his worst nightmare yet.
In the dream, Harry felt himself crane his neck … he was weak … frail … he needed rejuvenation …
His servant, Wormtail approached him … oh, how feeble and fragile Wormtail was … spurred by the thought of self-preservation … was only helping him because he valued his own safety … how sick Wormtail made him …
Harry asked, "Have you sent the Night-Knocker to bother our nemesis? ... It should keep him awake for a few years," ... and then he laughed in joy at the pain he would cause to that Potter boy ... the horrible, furious rage that appeared every time he thought of him ... his nemesis ... the one with power to vanquish him ...
Wormtail's voice was wavering, worried … he was terribly anxious about something … "My Lord," Wormtail said … "The graveyard in Little Hangleton, all the graves, the bodies and the bones have mysteriously disappeared" …
Harry suddenly felt rage flare inside of him … "Dumbledore," he hissed … "The meddling old fool … he has always been a step ahead of us … we cannot use the potion you suggested anymore then …"
Bothered and troubled, Wormtail said, "Please my lord – we cannot use the last resort –"
"That is all we have!" Harry yelled … the only other option was to bring the Horcruxes together and try for remorse … never … there was only one alternative …
Wormtail shuddered and bowed down … "I'm sorry, my Lord … I just believed that … it would be better … less painful … if we did not go down that route …"
"Alas, my little scoundrel friend … that is the only route we can go down … round up the old gang … see who remains faithful … punish those who do not … let us begin the plans to steal from the Department of Mysteries …"
Harry woke up, cold and clammy, sweaty and highly disconcerted, his scar burning like his forehead was on fire. Then, horrifyingly, there was a loud, sinister knock on window.
A/N: Hi! This fic is based of the GoF year, but there isn't the Triwizard Tournament. Basically, it's an AU where everything is the same except Harry does not have the same experiences in his fourth year (don't worry, by the end, it'll tie up loose ends and fit together with the real Harry Potter series and it'll seem like it was canon all along).
Disclaimer: Obviously, I'm not JK Rowling, and all characters, settings and objects belong to her, except for a few minor ones I made up.