Harry Potter & the Lords of the Mark
Chapter 1
Harry jumped up from bed; his scar tingling with the very same sensations that had almost cost him his life the previous year. His mind inevitably wandered off to his late Godfather, Sirius, whom he considered was the victim of his own stupidity and stubbornness.
He had been practicing Occlumency every single night before he went to sleep, picturing the great big red wall that normally helped clear his mind. His dreams became much less frequent, and he was no longer feeling the overwhelming emotions of Voldemort searing in his scar.
He stomped his foot, very much frustrated at the fact that he still could not keep his dreams out. Looking over at Hedwig's cage, he noticed that she was still absent from it. She had disappeared after delivering a note to the Order, telling them about himself being fine. Harry thought she might have gone back to Hogwarts to retrieve his OWL results, something that had not crossed his mind till now. It was nearing three days since Hedwig had left, and if he did not manage send a note to the Order by tomorrow, they would surely come by to see what had happened to Harry.
"Just as well," he thought, "then I would be out of here sooner."
Harry ruffled up his already untidy black hair, realizing that what he was thinking was extremely selfish and ignorant. He did not want to appear this way, but on the other hand he was infuriated that Ron and Hermoine still had not picked up their lesson last year, when he stormed about the house giving them the cold shoulder for keeping news away from him. This year, the same thing was happening; notes like "Be Patient" and "We'll tell you everything when you get here" were flooding in. His temper was rising steadily, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to last long under these conditions.
"Pubertal nerves," he muttered under his breath. He found that whenever he did that he managed to keep his temper in check.
There was a soft rapping on the windowsill; Hedwig had finally come back. She was carrying a package wrapped neatly in red and gold, presumably from Professor McGonogall. He was so pleased at finally receiving something substantial from the wizarding world that he emptied a whole packet of owl treats into Hedwig's feeding bowl. She cooed, extremely pleased with herself, and then started pecking at her well-earned treats.
Harry ripped the package open, excitement pulsing through his veins as he realized it had more than his results in it. He soon uncovered a black box, what he suspected to be a new set of Quidditch balls. He dared not open it, afraid that the Bludgers would come flying out and wrecking his room. He saw a note, signed by Professor McGonagall, attached to the box.
Dear Mr Potter, Enclosed to your results is a present from me and Professor Dumbledore. It is a set of Quidditch balls that your father left in Mr Filch's office, bewitched to explode in the face of anyone who dared use a vanishing charm to get rid of the rogue Bludger. I strongly disapprove of your opening it in your Uncle's house. Wishing you an early birthday.
Signed, Professor McGonagall
P.S. Congratulations on your exceptional results. P.P.S. The Order will come pick you up soon. It is unlikely that you will be meeting me or Professor Dumbledore.
Harry looked up from the note, and spotted a light brown envelope sealed by the 'H' that stood for Hogwarts.
Dear Mr Potter, Here are the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels tests that you took this June.
Transfiguration E
Potions O
Divination D
Astronomy A
History of Magic D
Charms O
Defence Against the Dark Arts O Herbology E
Care of Magical Creatures O
Yours Sincerely, Griselda Marchbanks Wizarding Examinations Authority
Harry could not believe his eyes. He had to read through his result slip twice before the contents registered in his mind. An 'O' grade for potions qualified him for taking it again next year. As much as he dreaded spending another year with Snape, it kept his Auror dreams pretty much alive.
Auror... He continued thinking of what it would be like as an Auror, by then of course Voldemort would've vanished. Or would he? The ominous voice of Professor Dumbledore crept into his mind, "neither can live, while the other survives..."
Harry woke up the next morning groggy as usual. He now did not need to do the dishes like last time, after Uncle Vernon found the boils that the Weasly twins had hexed onto Dudley's backside. It had taken a whole week of hospitalisation before doctors managed remove the purplish, throbbing and absolutely revolting boils.
Uncle Vernon had taken the boils as a real warning, and Aunt Petunia had received a letter from Dumbledore telling her about happenings in the Wizarding world (Harry had known this because of her constantly asking him the meanings of terms like 'Muggles' and 'Animagus'). They now made it an option, or rather absolutely necessary for him to do his homework in a brighter, more cheery area that is the living room. Harry knew that they just wanted him to be there to save their own skins should anything magical occur.
Harry was at the point of starting his History of Magic homework when he realised that he would not be taking the subject next year. He put the homework away happily, when a loud, echoing crack broke his concentration. He peered out of the window, and seeing that it was Aunt Petunia coming home with a huge bag of groceries, went back to his homework.
Just as Harry took his head back in, he caught a black, shadowy figure at the back of the taxi she'd just come out of. He stuck his head out of the window once more, and seeing that the figure already had his wand raised, shouted for Aunt Petunia to duck. She turned her head around, and a green beam of light shot past her as she lowered her head, blowing off a chunk of the house. She seemed to have collapsed in shock on the front porch, and Harry had almost run out of the house when a grouchy voice he recognised as Mundungus' told him to stay in.
Mundungus was trying to levitate Aunt Petunia back into the house when he was hit with a Cruciatus curse. He cringed on the floor of the lawn, helpless and in excruciating pain. 'Stupefy!' Harry shouted and slammed his back to the wall beside the window.
"Want to play eh, Harry?" the cold, drawling voice of the Death Eater seemed to reach deep down into Harry's chest.
"Want to end up like your dear Godfather, Sirius...." He continued to jeer as he came closer to the door.
Harry could take it no more. The very mention of his Godfather by this filthy, dirty wizard made his blood boil. He braced himself for another shot when the door blasted open and a rally of curses came from beside the fireplace.
Harry turned his head to the fireplace, seeing that members of the Order had jumped out of it in the nick of time. He turned his attention to the immobilised, stationary, slimy and disgusting creature lying on his Aunt's lawn.
"Hi Harry!" beamed Mr Weasly.
"Err... Hi..." Harry mumbled, thinking the statement was rather inappropriate for a moment like this.
"Merlin's Beard!" growled Mad-Eye Moody, seeing Mundungus knocked out cold on the lawn.
"I guess I'll be up there to pack..." Harry said weakly. "Oh no, no..." said a maroon haired old witch, whom Harry guessed was Tonks. "We're going to have to wait for them to come home first," she continued, throwing a glance at Aunt Petunia who had just been revived.
"WHAT?!" Harry boomed, the fact that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley coming with him had still not registered in his mind when the revving of Uncle Dursley's engines came up to the lawn.
"I guess me and Fred have to go pick up the last one then?" quirked George at the opportunity to apparate.
"Treat him nice George," Mr Weasly said, peering up from a calculator that Dudley had attempted to do his maths homework with. "And Harry, I've been rearing to ask you what is the function of one of these cacklelators? It doesn't really appear to cackle very well does it?" he continued, looking very perplexed at the presence of numbers on a device that was supposed to cackle.
"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME HAS HAPPENED HERE?" bellowed the voice of a man not too pleased at having a chunk of his house blown off. Dudley and the twins appeared at the fireplace, with Dudley throwing up what appeared to be the contents of his tea. Tonks cleared it up with a wave of her wand.
"Please Mr Dursley, sit down!" said Mad-Eye, apparently what he considered to be politely.
"I DON'T NEED AN INVITATION TO SIT DOWN IN MY OWN HOUSE!" he screamed.
"And I, sir, do not need an excuse to put some more boils on your backside," chuckled Fred. At this, Uncle Vernon sat down next to his trembling wife, turning a shade redder than before.
"You will find that we have kindly packed up all necessary belongings of yours in these suitcases over here," began Mad-Eye, waving at a line of suitcases that Tonks has levitated down. Harry spotted his own suitcase right on the other side. "You will no longer be staying here, as you will find that this place is very much susceptible to attacks," he continued, this time pointing to the blasted door. "Any queries will be answered when we get to where we are going... For now, please put your hands on this..." he searched frantically in his pockets and pulled out an umbrella, "umbrella!"
Harry watched as the Dursleys, without a whimper of resistance, disappeared along with the bags to Grimmauld place.
He took a handful of Floo powder, and said in a puposely articulated voice, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"
Chapter 1
Harry jumped up from bed; his scar tingling with the very same sensations that had almost cost him his life the previous year. His mind inevitably wandered off to his late Godfather, Sirius, whom he considered was the victim of his own stupidity and stubbornness.
He had been practicing Occlumency every single night before he went to sleep, picturing the great big red wall that normally helped clear his mind. His dreams became much less frequent, and he was no longer feeling the overwhelming emotions of Voldemort searing in his scar.
He stomped his foot, very much frustrated at the fact that he still could not keep his dreams out. Looking over at Hedwig's cage, he noticed that she was still absent from it. She had disappeared after delivering a note to the Order, telling them about himself being fine. Harry thought she might have gone back to Hogwarts to retrieve his OWL results, something that had not crossed his mind till now. It was nearing three days since Hedwig had left, and if he did not manage send a note to the Order by tomorrow, they would surely come by to see what had happened to Harry.
"Just as well," he thought, "then I would be out of here sooner."
Harry ruffled up his already untidy black hair, realizing that what he was thinking was extremely selfish and ignorant. He did not want to appear this way, but on the other hand he was infuriated that Ron and Hermoine still had not picked up their lesson last year, when he stormed about the house giving them the cold shoulder for keeping news away from him. This year, the same thing was happening; notes like "Be Patient" and "We'll tell you everything when you get here" were flooding in. His temper was rising steadily, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to last long under these conditions.
"Pubertal nerves," he muttered under his breath. He found that whenever he did that he managed to keep his temper in check.
There was a soft rapping on the windowsill; Hedwig had finally come back. She was carrying a package wrapped neatly in red and gold, presumably from Professor McGonogall. He was so pleased at finally receiving something substantial from the wizarding world that he emptied a whole packet of owl treats into Hedwig's feeding bowl. She cooed, extremely pleased with herself, and then started pecking at her well-earned treats.
Harry ripped the package open, excitement pulsing through his veins as he realized it had more than his results in it. He soon uncovered a black box, what he suspected to be a new set of Quidditch balls. He dared not open it, afraid that the Bludgers would come flying out and wrecking his room. He saw a note, signed by Professor McGonagall, attached to the box.
Dear Mr Potter, Enclosed to your results is a present from me and Professor Dumbledore. It is a set of Quidditch balls that your father left in Mr Filch's office, bewitched to explode in the face of anyone who dared use a vanishing charm to get rid of the rogue Bludger. I strongly disapprove of your opening it in your Uncle's house. Wishing you an early birthday.
Signed, Professor McGonagall
P.S. Congratulations on your exceptional results. P.P.S. The Order will come pick you up soon. It is unlikely that you will be meeting me or Professor Dumbledore.
Harry looked up from the note, and spotted a light brown envelope sealed by the 'H' that stood for Hogwarts.
Dear Mr Potter, Here are the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels tests that you took this June.
Transfiguration E
Potions O
Divination D
Astronomy A
History of Magic D
Charms O
Defence Against the Dark Arts O Herbology E
Care of Magical Creatures O
Yours Sincerely, Griselda Marchbanks Wizarding Examinations Authority
Harry could not believe his eyes. He had to read through his result slip twice before the contents registered in his mind. An 'O' grade for potions qualified him for taking it again next year. As much as he dreaded spending another year with Snape, it kept his Auror dreams pretty much alive.
Auror... He continued thinking of what it would be like as an Auror, by then of course Voldemort would've vanished. Or would he? The ominous voice of Professor Dumbledore crept into his mind, "neither can live, while the other survives..."
Harry woke up the next morning groggy as usual. He now did not need to do the dishes like last time, after Uncle Vernon found the boils that the Weasly twins had hexed onto Dudley's backside. It had taken a whole week of hospitalisation before doctors managed remove the purplish, throbbing and absolutely revolting boils.
Uncle Vernon had taken the boils as a real warning, and Aunt Petunia had received a letter from Dumbledore telling her about happenings in the Wizarding world (Harry had known this because of her constantly asking him the meanings of terms like 'Muggles' and 'Animagus'). They now made it an option, or rather absolutely necessary for him to do his homework in a brighter, more cheery area that is the living room. Harry knew that they just wanted him to be there to save their own skins should anything magical occur.
Harry was at the point of starting his History of Magic homework when he realised that he would not be taking the subject next year. He put the homework away happily, when a loud, echoing crack broke his concentration. He peered out of the window, and seeing that it was Aunt Petunia coming home with a huge bag of groceries, went back to his homework.
Just as Harry took his head back in, he caught a black, shadowy figure at the back of the taxi she'd just come out of. He stuck his head out of the window once more, and seeing that the figure already had his wand raised, shouted for Aunt Petunia to duck. She turned her head around, and a green beam of light shot past her as she lowered her head, blowing off a chunk of the house. She seemed to have collapsed in shock on the front porch, and Harry had almost run out of the house when a grouchy voice he recognised as Mundungus' told him to stay in.
Mundungus was trying to levitate Aunt Petunia back into the house when he was hit with a Cruciatus curse. He cringed on the floor of the lawn, helpless and in excruciating pain. 'Stupefy!' Harry shouted and slammed his back to the wall beside the window.
"Want to play eh, Harry?" the cold, drawling voice of the Death Eater seemed to reach deep down into Harry's chest.
"Want to end up like your dear Godfather, Sirius...." He continued to jeer as he came closer to the door.
Harry could take it no more. The very mention of his Godfather by this filthy, dirty wizard made his blood boil. He braced himself for another shot when the door blasted open and a rally of curses came from beside the fireplace.
Harry turned his head to the fireplace, seeing that members of the Order had jumped out of it in the nick of time. He turned his attention to the immobilised, stationary, slimy and disgusting creature lying on his Aunt's lawn.
"Hi Harry!" beamed Mr Weasly.
"Err... Hi..." Harry mumbled, thinking the statement was rather inappropriate for a moment like this.
"Merlin's Beard!" growled Mad-Eye Moody, seeing Mundungus knocked out cold on the lawn.
"I guess I'll be up there to pack..." Harry said weakly. "Oh no, no..." said a maroon haired old witch, whom Harry guessed was Tonks. "We're going to have to wait for them to come home first," she continued, throwing a glance at Aunt Petunia who had just been revived.
"WHAT?!" Harry boomed, the fact that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley coming with him had still not registered in his mind when the revving of Uncle Dursley's engines came up to the lawn.
"I guess me and Fred have to go pick up the last one then?" quirked George at the opportunity to apparate.
"Treat him nice George," Mr Weasly said, peering up from a calculator that Dudley had attempted to do his maths homework with. "And Harry, I've been rearing to ask you what is the function of one of these cacklelators? It doesn't really appear to cackle very well does it?" he continued, looking very perplexed at the presence of numbers on a device that was supposed to cackle.
"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME HAS HAPPENED HERE?" bellowed the voice of a man not too pleased at having a chunk of his house blown off. Dudley and the twins appeared at the fireplace, with Dudley throwing up what appeared to be the contents of his tea. Tonks cleared it up with a wave of her wand.
"Please Mr Dursley, sit down!" said Mad-Eye, apparently what he considered to be politely.
"I DON'T NEED AN INVITATION TO SIT DOWN IN MY OWN HOUSE!" he screamed.
"And I, sir, do not need an excuse to put some more boils on your backside," chuckled Fred. At this, Uncle Vernon sat down next to his trembling wife, turning a shade redder than before.
"You will find that we have kindly packed up all necessary belongings of yours in these suitcases over here," began Mad-Eye, waving at a line of suitcases that Tonks has levitated down. Harry spotted his own suitcase right on the other side. "You will no longer be staying here, as you will find that this place is very much susceptible to attacks," he continued, this time pointing to the blasted door. "Any queries will be answered when we get to where we are going... For now, please put your hands on this..." he searched frantically in his pockets and pulled out an umbrella, "umbrella!"
Harry watched as the Dursleys, without a whimper of resistance, disappeared along with the bags to Grimmauld place.
He took a handful of Floo powder, and said in a puposely articulated voice, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"