Well here it is everyone, the first chapter of my very first fanfiction, written right after OOTP was published. This is my take on how I thought book 6 would turn out. I had the title and went with what I felt was natural progression of the story. Some things might sound similar to HBP, but were written before the publication (I still don't own anything!) based on what I thought might happen.
Without further ado, here is Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (KE Version) PLEASE R&R! xx
Forgotten and Invited
Number four Privet Drive was unnaturally quiet, and peaceful as the sun shone down on Little Whinging, Surrey. Normally, there was a ruckus of some sort in that area, but this summer had been different. There was no yelling at number four, and no explosions, screaming people, cursing, or door slamming, typically caused by the residents of that house. It had been abnormally silent and that was how the neighbors liked it. The Dursley's of number four, however, found it rather disconcerting.
"…Something wrong with the boy," Uncle Vernon's voice wafted up from the kitchen, "...go find out…not…normal…" He muttered to himself as he lugged his bulge up the stairs, his beard shaking in confused focus and determination.
A tall bespectacled boy of sixteen lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling. A number of abnormal things were packed into the confines of his bedroom, including magic books, robes, a cauldron, his wand and quite a loud owl. Hedwig's cage was littered with old food, newspapers, and bird droppings. Harry Potter was a wizard, entering his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but this year, unlike any before, he didn't want to go back. He'd lost everyone, and everything. No, that was a lie; he still had Ron, Hermione, all the Weasleys…he had a lot of people, but he'd lost Sirius. That was enough to keep him away from the Wizarding world. The ache he had to write to Sirius, to see him, to talk to him, was unbearable. He had started a letter earlier that summer, but in the middle realized that he was dead. The realization hit him like a pound of bricks; he no longer had an adult figure he could trust like a parent, he was alone in the world.
Uncle Vernon's ham-like fist pounded on the door to Harry's room, but he lay silent on his bed.
"I'm coming in boy!" He yelled as he pushed the door open. "Well, what's wrong with you? You're up to something, aren't you? You've been lying there for the whole summer, and I bloody well know you've been sending messages to those freaky friends of yours. They're not coming are they?" Uncle Vernon's eyes bugged out and face was suddenly contorted in an expression that denoted great pain at the idea of wizards setting foot on Privet Drive again. "It's been too quiet this summer. If any strange people come over here this summer, I'll hold you responsible. And why don't you write to that jail escapee? Has he decided you're no good, boy?" He laughed like he'd just heard a good joke. "I suppose he got put back in jail? Or killed?" He laughed manically. Harry's eyes stung, and watered, but he clenched his jaw, determined to stay silent. He couldn't take it anymore though. He couldn't take Uncle Vernon's blows about Sirius; he didn't care if he was expelled from Hogwarts, or killed, or anything. He wanted to die anyway. Slowly he reached his hand into his back pocket, and curled his fingers around his wand. Suddenly an owl's hoot could be heard through the window as three or four came flying in. A barn owl landed lightly on his desk, from Hogwarts, since that was where the letter appeared to be from. A tiny fist sized owl buzzed around the room hooting madly. Uncle Vernon flapped his arms around the room like a madman, yelling for the first time that summer.
"Out! Out! Get these bloody birds out!" He roared as Pigwidgeon zoomed a hair's breadth away from his scalp. Harry put his wand back in his pocket with a sigh and untied the parcel from Pig's leg; it seemed to be dragging him down a little. As he did, though, he felt a great sadness wash over him; Pig had been given to Ron by Sirius in their third year.
"Thanks Pig." Harry said sadly as he fluttered off out the window. The third owl had a message with handwriting that resembled Hermione's, probably from another Post Office owl. Another Hogwarts barn owl sat behind the first, pecking at Harry's bedspread and it looked like it had a big parcel with a letter from Hagrid. Uncle Vernon's face was beet red as he watched Harry untie each parcel and letter.
"So…why are you so bloody popular today?" He asked Harry. Harry gave the owls a quizzical look. He didn't know; why should he? He shut the window behind the owls as they flew out into the sinking red sun and vanished over the horizon. Harry stared at the array of parcels and letters on his bed, one with the Hogwarts crest, and the others with familiar handwriting from Ron, Hagrid and Hermione.
"I-I don't know why." Harry muttered, half to himself.
"Well, I just won't have it! The neighbors will start to wonder why a mad pick-I mean a peck-a puck…"His face had started to go purple as he slammed his fist onto Harry's nightstand, "I WILL NOT HAVE A PACK OF OWLS FLYING IN AND OUT OF THIS HOUSE!" He roared. Harry sighed.
"I can't stop them." He said calmly. "I told you that last year before I went to…" He stopped. He'd gone to see Sirius before his trial. "I can't stop them." He murmured. Uncle Vernon muttered furiously, "…move out…back to school…no MORE owls…" The door slammed shut behind Uncle Vernon and Harry heard him trudge down the stairs, muttering, "…bloody birds…every year…send him off…Petunia won't…" Harry sat cross-legged on his bed and slowly opened his Hogwarts letter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. The list of books required for sixth year is listed below.
Sixth year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6) by Miranda GoshawkA History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
Hairy Snout, Human Heart by anonymous author
Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles by Wilhelm Wigworthy
Protego! A Wizarding Guide to Self Defense and Awareness of the Dark Arts by Gladius Dephindro
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry glanced back up at the list, baffled. He knew that the new defense teacher had set Protego! On the list, and he knew that all sixth year students had to take Open Muggle Studies to prepare them for the outside world, but why would a teacher set a book for werewolves? It couldn't be Lupin…could it? Harry thought, confused. I'll write him, I have to find out what this is all about…His thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the window. Another owl was pecking at the glass, and nearly falling off the ledge. Harry stood up and pushed the window open so the bird could fly in. It was Errol, the Weasley's family bird and he looked half dead as he collapsed onto Harry's desk.
"Errol…" Harry shook his head and walked to Hedwig's cage.
"Sorry Hedwig, you've got to share this." He pulled out a dish of water and plunked it in front of Errol, who immediately began to lap it up. Harry untied the parcel and put it on his bed with the others. He could hear the clinking of china downstairs and he knew the Dursley's were eating supper, but he didn't care. He stayed upstairs and ate what they brought him. Their leftovers; and that wasn't much…not after Dudley got through with it. He turned back to his parcels and slowly opened up Ron's letter.
Harry-HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATE!
Harry stopped reading. Of course! His birthday! He'd completely forgotten about his sixteenth birthday amid all the silence and thought about Sirius. Last year he'd hoped it would've been a great happy party with all his friends at Ron's house and…Sirius would be there, cheering, singing, with that caring smile and dark eyes Harry had grown to recognize so well. He wiped a tear from his eye and continued to read.
Hope your day gets better...I know its been quite a dull summer…you know with…well, Mum's been in a terrible mood, fretting, crying and worrying about you all summer, and she wants you to head over here to visit. She knows you might not be in the mood to, you know, go out places, but she says she'd rather have you in plain sight for her to take care of. I'll stay out of your hair mate, but it would be cool to see you.
Ron
Harry tossed the letter aside, considering the idea. He did need to get his mind off Sirius. It was just so hard to stop thinking about him. Harry picked up the package that had come with Ron's letter. He tore the brown paper off and out fell a box that read 'Home Quidditch Set'. On the front it showed a family flying on broomsticks with smaller versions of the balls Harry played with at school. He flipped it over and read the back.
This kit contains:
1 quaffle
2 bludgers
2 bats
1 snitch
6 self-folding hover-hoops
"Cool!" Harry managed to say aloud, now thoroughly thinking about going to Ron's to play Quidditch. He reached for Hermione letter and package next, now in a bit of a better mood then before. As he opened it, two packages fell out. He read the letter carefully first.
Harry,
Ron says he's written you asking if you'd like to visit him. I hope you do, I'm headed over tomorrow. We can all go down to Diagon Alley and shop for our school things! I'm really excited about sixth year, with advanced muggle studies preparing us for the open world!
Harry paused, still curious as to WHY Hermione liked muggle studies so much! She was a muggle already! He shook his head and let out a weak chuckle, which sounded forced. He hadn't smiled or laughed all summer. He found that sulking was particularly easy when you were on Privet Drive.
Well, I do hope you're up to the trip to Ron's. Ginny says Ron's been a bit stroppy lately, especially when Pig comes in the room. She says he gets all upset and leaves. Well, I haven't really been the same either, but we should try to get our minds off it. Dumbledore says if you dwell on something that you can never have for to long, it'll drive you mad. Well, I've enclosed some sugar free treats for you, since Dudley's diet is still is progress! I hope that you like them, but I also wanted to ask you about our book list. Who set the Werewolf book, Hairy Snout, Human Heart? You don't think Lupin's back, do you? I don't think so, but I've written him an owl already. I am curious about it…you don't think—not Snape? He wouldn't have gotten the job, Dumbledore wouldn't…well, we can talk at Ron's if you come!
Lots of love,
Hermione
Harry picked up the treats and took them to his trunk. Carelessly he tossed them into his cauldron for later. Hermione's gift lay in a small black bag on his bed, tied with a silver ribbon. He pulled the ribbon off and opened the bag. Inside was a…a…he didn't know what it was. A bowl of some sort; he'd seen one before. He flipped it over and read the inscription on the bottom.
To Harry,
I hope that this helps you clear your thoughts a bit.
Love, Hermione
He recognized it suddenly. It was a Pensieve, like Dumbledore and Snape had. To put his thoughts into…Unexpectedly, his breaths became shorter, his eyes stung, and he felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, or explode. A Pensieve was perfect, and Hermione knew. She always knew, which was a bit irritating, but he did need to clear his thoughts. He put the bowl tenderly on his desk and looked at it in the light that shone in from the streetlamps across the road. Hedwig hooted in her cage and Harry looked over at her.
"It's great isn't it?" He said quietly. Reaching for Hagrid's letter he read the messy scrawl.
Harry-Been missin' you lots and takin' some matters into me own hands. You know Buckbeak's got no owner now and the Ministry wants him…well, gone. I decided to take him out to where I keep Grawp. Grawpy's doin' great, learnin' lots o' English an' such. He an' Buckbeak get along great, 'cept for las' week when Grawp tried to eat him, but they're ok now. Grawpy says hi an' Buckbeak too. I know ye miss Sirius, but hang in there, alrigh'? We're all here for you and I can't wait 'til you get back here. Well, Happy Birthday Harry! I can't believe yer sixteen now, an' all grown up. Seems like on'y yesterday I wuz holdin' you as a baby an' drivin' you to the Dursley's! An' Yer first year went by so fast! An' yer second an' third... an' fourth, an' fifth! Yer ready for a' most anything Harry, you can take it. Hope ye like yer present!
Love Hagrid
Harry reached cautiously for the gift hopping it wasn't anything lethal. It was an oddly shaped package wrapped in newspaper. Harry yanked the string off and braced himself for something rabid to jump out at him—
But nothing came. Instead he saw a book lying amid the wrapping. Harry gingerly lifted it up and flipped the cover open. Written on the inside was Hagrid's cluttered writing.
Harry—I know this is probably not the best of ideas, but I got this put together for you. I hope ye like it, and if not, then…I kin take it back and get you somethin' else. Happy sixteen! Hagrid.
Harry flipped the page and instantly flashed an image of those dark brown eyes staring up at him. Sirius! Harry stared at a photo of a younger Sirius, waving like mad as he stood next to a younger looking James. Harry's dad. James was messing up his hair and grinning. Harry stared at the photo for a minute without blinking, and his eyes stung. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he couldn't hold them back any longer. He flipped the page and another photo of Sirius appeared the one of his parents at their wedding with him. Harry flipped page after page madly, half smiling, half laughing, choking on his tears. Everything was perfect and horrible at the same time. He was torn between the two emotions, torn between love and hate, joy and sadness. He let out a racked sob as he shut the book and lay it next to his Pensieve. Getting up off his bed he opened his desk drawer and pulled out the album of his parents. He tenderly placed it next to Sirius's album and wiped his cheek. He could hardly breathe and he still had one more to go. Harry looked at Errol and then the parcel next to him. The writing looked like Mrs. Weasley's. Harry opened the letter and read the neat scrawl of words.
Harry, dear, I hope you're well. Have you been eating properly? I was hoping you'd come to see us this summer, soon, perhaps. I don't want to see you looking peaky when you arrive, so I've sent you some homemade fudge, biscuits and hot buns.
Harry glanced at the box on the desk and lifted the lid. Sure enough inside were biscuits, hot buns and fudge. Enough to feed Dudley for a month! He felt enormous warmth towards Mrs. Weasley. She must've slaved for hours cooking for him. He snatched up a hot bun and immediately ate it. As soon as it touched his lips he missed her cooking and wanted to leave more then ever, but at the same time, still yearned to be alone. He grabbed another hot bun and sat cross-legged on his bed again, as he returned to the letter.
Are you feeling all right? Have the Dursley's been good to you? We haven't heard from you in a while, but Remus says you've been writing, so we know you're okay. Still, he says all you write some days is, "I'm doing all right." I don't suppose you'd be interested in going to Diagon Alley for your birthday? We were thinking of heading to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour to celebrate, since there's precious little to celebrate these days. If you don't want to I understand, but it would be wonderful if you came to visit!
Lots of Love, Mrs. Weasley
P.S. Take good care of yourself and write back as soon as you can!
Harry knew Mrs. Weasley would love to have him over and he had already made up his mind to go. Pushing all his gifts to the side he pulled out a roll of parchment and ink and began to write.
To the Weasleys and Hermione—I'll come! I hope we can play Quidditch with my set Ron! Thanks a bunch Mrs. Weasley, for the cooking, and Ron, thanks for the kit. If Hermione's there, tell her I say hello, and thanks for her gift as well. It's perfect. Yeah, I wouldn't mind going to Florean Fortescue's for my birthday. I need to get my mind off everything. Will you be picking me up then? I suppose so. Miss you,
Harry
"You up for the trip Errol?" Harry asked as the owl flapped its wings proudly. "Or do I have to send Hedwig?" Errol immediately held out his claw and allowed Harry to tie his letter to it.
"Thanks Errol. Bye then." Harry watched him fly out until he was only a spot in the night.
"Good night Hedwig." Harry yawned, "We might not be here tomorrow!" He murmured, trying to look on the bright side. Crawling into bed he stared out the window at the stars.
"Goodnight Sirius." He whispered as his head touched his pillow, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first night in a long, long time.