Albus Dumbledore sat staring out his office window. It had been another long day, thank god Arthur Weasley had been stabilised in hospital and was due to make a full recovery.
A sudden blast shook the room and several silver instruments fell from his desk. Thinking that it was another one of the Weasley twin's jokes, the old headmaster made his way over to the spiral staircase to investigate. Perhaps he could save them from having to deal with Professor Umbridge.
Just as he was about to exit his office he noticed a stack of four books and a letter sitting on one of the visitors chairs. Strange, they had definitely not been there before, he thought.
After casting several spells to detect any dark magic, he picked up the letter and read;
Prof. Albus P.W.B Dumbledore
Head Master at Hogwarts school of witch craft and wizardry
These books are about the past, present and near future. They are about Mr Harry Potter and his adventures at Hogwarts. In a moment you shall be transported to 12 Grimmauld place. Others who need to be present during the reading shall arrive there also.
Please do not be alarmed, Cornelius Fudge and Delores Umbridge shall also be present (everyone else knows of the order and there work), as it is vital that they are made to realise the truth.
The First book is filled with snippets of Mr potters first four years at Hogwarts, while the next three contain are a year of his schooling each. They can only be read in order and contain the absolute truth. Please read them all as the fate of the wizarding world now rests on your shoulders.
Dumbledore stared at the letter in his hand before going to pick up the four books. All of a sudden there was a bright flash of white light and he found himself sitting in the recently cleaned library of 12 Grimmauld place. Another flash of light later and the room was filled with a large group of people.
"What the hell was that," someone grunted. Followed by a chorus of muttered curses, "I was right in the middle of finishing a charms essay."
"CONSTANT VIGULANCE" someone shouted gruffly, making a few people laugh.
Slowly one by one the group disentangled its self. Arthur Weasley seemed to have landed in a chair but the others were not so lucky. Mad-eye moody, Tonks, Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape were there, As well as Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins.
"What's going on? Where are we?" asked Arthur looking around trying to identify his surroundings. Once everyone had settled themselves into chairs, sofas and on the carpet Dumbledore answered.
"We have been sent to headquarters by persons unknown to read a set of books pertaining to our past, present and future. I have been warned that Fudge and one of his representatives will also be sent here but as long as they don't leave this room I see no problem in them being here."
At this out rage filled the room. Fudge could not be allowed to find out about the order of the phoenix, he would think they were trying to overthrow him not attack He-who-must-not-be-named. Suddenly there was a commotion at the door and it burst open to reveal a puffing Sirius Black.
"What the hell is this?" he asked breathlessly
"Language Sirius Really," snapped Molly
"We're about to read some books about us, do you wanna join us?" Harry said with a smirk. He knew how bored his godfather must be and how this would probably be the most exciting thing that had happened to him in over a year.
After Sirius had plonked himself down between Lupin and Harry there was nothing left to do but wait for their unwanted guests to arrive. They were not kept long however, after another flash of light Fudge and Umbridge appeared in the middle of the circle of seats.
"Not Umbitch," Groaned Ron, who received a sharp look from Hermione for his language.
Once the new comers had been filled in my Dumbledore, and Fudge and Umbridge had shared a gleeful look (it was clear that they thought they would finally be able to prove that Potter and Dumbledore were conspiring against the ministry) it was time to start reading.
"Who wants to start?" asked Dumbledore. When know one replied he lifted the first book and read;
Extracts from Harry Potter and the Philosophers stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
"Hold on, why are they all about me? Why is my name in the title of all of them?" said Harry
"Think about it mate, you've done some pretty crazy stuff in the last couple of years, you're probably the most interesting to write about," Replied Ron
The boy who Lived
"Hey Harry that's you," said Fred with a grin, or maybe it was George, who knew.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
"What are drills?" asked Mr Weasley
"They're a muggle tool used to dig holes in the ground," said Hermione
"Ingenious"
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
"There's nothing wrong with the Potters you stupid muggle," Sirius said angrily at the book.
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years;
In fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her
sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish
"Not a real word," coughed Lupin
"Will you shush, we wont get through the first chapter at this rate," Sirius said
"Your one to talk," replied Lupin.
as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
"You're a perfect child harry dear," said Mrs Weasley who had been staring, pursed lipped at the books.
Perfect my ass, Thought Snape, know wonder the boy was so full of himself.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley
"Little git," muttered Harry quietly enough that only Ron sitting next to him heard and chuckled.
into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.
"What a disgusting child" said Professor McGonagall. Molly could only nod her head in agreement; someone needed to teach him some manners.
"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map.
"Minnie!" cried the twins excitedly. After a stern look from their head of house the cringed back into the fabric of the couch, not wanting to be subjected to her piercing gaze.
For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to
look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet
Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of?
It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help
noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people
about. People in cloaks.
"You think they'd be more careful," muttered Fudge, all the effort in keeping the stature of secrecy and people went out dressed like that.
"Exaclty minister, people just don't appreciate all the work you do for the ministry, where would we be without you," Said Umbridge, earning her a hate-filled glare from Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny.
Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by.
They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something...
"I thought he knew about wizards," said Ginny
"He does its just that he hates people like us and try's to never think about them," Harry said, "of course it became harder to ignore when I went to live with them, although they did think they could stomped it out of me." He said as an after thought.
Sirius gave his godson a reproachful look. Surely he was exaggerating; they wouldn't actually stomp on him. Would they?
Yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
"What a delightful man you have as your uncle harry," said Tonks cheerfully
He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag,
"He really should…."
"Watch his weight," said the twins
that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry"
"Here enters are tragic hero," said George with a sniff. Earning him a glare from harry, if they didn't be quiet soon he'd have to hex them both.
Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry.
"You're the last Potter of the wizarding world Harry, that names not at all common," said Remus.
Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.
"How does he not remember your name," said Mrs Weasley shocked, after all she knew the names of all her extended family.
There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that...
Snape clenched his hands, how dare the filthy muggle say things like that about lily
but all the same, those people in cloaks...
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It
was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in
a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir,
for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy,
happy day!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
"Do you think that was Flitwick," whispered Ron to Hermione.
"Maybe, although he doesn't strike me as the kind to blow the stature of secrecy. But who knows."
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
"Who doesn't approve of imagination," exclaimed Fred looking shocked
"It's an outrage," replied George
"Boys, please behave your selves," said Mr Weasley
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.
"You can do that in cat form Minnie?" asked Sirius with a grin; after all he'd given her that nickname all those years ago
Was this normal cat behaviour? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!").
"It was his favourite word until he leant to say 'make harry do it'," remarked Harry dryly.
This was followed by a few questioning looks his way which he chose to ignore by staring at a loose thread on his robes.
Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's
owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been
hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since
sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly
changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...
"How thick is he," said Sirius, "of course its wizards."
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
"What! Harry that's terrible didn't they ever talk about your parents with you?" asked Ginny
A quiet "No" was all she got in reply.
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.
"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -
he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"
"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."
"It is not!" said Ron and Hermione together
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there.
It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for
something.
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of
- well, he didn't think he could bear it.
"He can't even say the word wizard," growled Moody, "what's the fool afraid of?"
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on
"I told you they didn't want to take Harry, Albus," said McGonagall sharply, "but you wouldn't listen."
he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...
How very wrong he was.
"Well that's the end of the chapter who wants to read next?" asked Albus
"Ehem, Sorry Albus but I couldn't help but wonder, where are we?" asked Professor Umbridge Sweetly
"Yes, I've been thinking the same thing," said Fudge
Know one knew what to say to that. They couldn't reveal the whereabouts without giving away the order of the phoenix. Finally Sirius spoke.
"We would be at my dear parents old house."
"And you are?" Asked Umbridge wrinkling her nose in obvious distain at the haggard appearance of the man before her.
"Sirius Black"