Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix
Another story by Ix
Oy People! This time I have actually thought my way through the story before I just madly rushed into writing it. Enjoy!
______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 1: Brooms, Wands, Robes, and Fudge Will Die, Oh My!
Harry squinted into the evening sun, painting supplies in his hands and white paint all over Dudley's oversized, baggy, t-shirt and jeans that were currently only hanging onto Harry, via the belt he was wearing around his waist. He had just finished painting the bench in the Dursley's garden. Harry liked the garden, it was the one thing he liked about the Dursleys. He would, if he had no chores to do for his relatives, sit for hours on end in the garden, unknowingly beginning his love of something he would be taught in more depth later, meditating. He would sometimes sit with a book and read, or sometimes, he would just sit entranced by the intricacies of the plants(a/n: HINT HINT).
Unfortunately, this was not the case for today. Today, his Uncle had come early in the morning and given him a list of chores that had to be completed by the end of the day. These chores were among the worst he had been given yet, and they included: washing/waxing the car, pruning and shaping the rose bushes so that they were shaped like rabbits running after a car, washing Dudley's undergarments, and several more unpleasantries.
He had finally finished all of these and he, as it was getting too dark to see the plants, retired to his room. He had changed his room somewhat. It, instead of old broken toys, was adorned with potted plants and guide books on caring for them. Of late, he had taken to being solitary, enjoying his own company, and often pondered subjects hours on end, trying to find the true answer, not his own. Harry had realized that what a person saw and experienced influenced its decisions, so he tried to look at life in a whole new angle, without bias, and find the answer.
He started as something large, which he noted as Hedwig, flew into the room through the open window. She was bearing a letter that was tied to her by red, green, yellow, and blue string intertwined to form one unified strand, it was from Hogwarts.
"Hey girl," he said softly to his devoted and loyal owl, the messenger and only friend he had during the summer. She responded by nipping his ear affectionately.
He untied it and held it up to the dying muggle light bulb so that he could make out the letters. It looked as if it had been written in a hurry, and read:
Mr. Potter - Please fly on your broom to 3304, James Lane in muggle London now. Take with you your wand and wear robes. Use any magic necessary to accomplish this. Quickly please!
Albus Dumbledore
Upon reading this, Harry was shocked, but soon collected himself. He changed into his robes, grabbed his wand, and flew out of the open window on his firebolt with Hedwig in close pursuit. He passed over several small towns, farms, and roads until he found himself reaching the outer limits of London.
He landed, a little more than slightly lost in the large city, but soon found that asking people for directions was useful, so long as he could make up a story as to why he needed them. He chose to say he was visiting his aunt for her birthday. Many people gave him strange looks at that, but gave him directions nonetheless. He went down the street at a hurried pace, not looking unusual on the street; it was crowded even though it was well after dark. He stopped and, once again, asked for directions, this time from a baker closing his shop. The baker looked at him with pity, and gave him a bag of cookies.
He continued on, and found James Lane. In an instant, he found why he had been given weird stares: the place was a ruin. He had said his Aunt lived there, but it was all knocked down buildings, and there was rubble all about the street. He walked the length of the street twice, and then decided to revert to magic. He raised his wand and whispered revelarmus, a spell that reveled all secret and hidden magical passages to him. He looked about the street, and found what he was looking for. Beneath an upturned trash can was a trapdoor, outlined in red because of the spell.
As he was leaning down to open the trapdoor, a gust of wind blew a piece of newspaper over to Harry, he looked at the headline and almost fainted.
Minister Fudge Murdered By Death Eaters At His Home
"Shit," was all Harry had to say.
A rough hand grabbed Harry from behind, covering his mouth. Harry panicked and tried to kick and squirm his way free, but no such luck. He fought himself into exhaustion and was passing out as he heard a voice say:
"Good job Potter, you passed the first test."
Harry knew no more.
______________________________________________________________________________
A/N: How did you like it? Review and try to guess who the man is, I'll put your name in the next chapter if you get it.