Harry Potter

Chapter One - At the Weasley's

Harry Potter awoke in his friend, Ron's bedroom, he could hear the birds through the window, just like every other morning, but he could also hear the deep breathing emanating from the other occupant of the room. He cast his mind to who it could be, and his thoughts landed on Ron. Of course, he was at the Weasley's! For a second he had forgotten where he was, but then he remembered, with whole hearted joy, that he had come to stay with Mr and Mrs Weasley for the last week of the summer holidays. He sat up, causing the covers to fall from his chest and swim around his waist on the bed. He yawned, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He could remember a lot of vivid colours from the dream he had been having, but nothing more, the remnants of pain in his scar made it obvious what his dream had included. He wrinkled his nose at his blurred vision and reached for his glasses that lay on the bedside table, he pushed them onto his nose, and peered through the glass. They had been broken many times before, the latest one had occurred yesterday, during the testing of one of Fred and George's new products. He winced at the memory, and hastened to move his mind onto something else. He looked around the room for something to focus on, and he spotted the clock on the opposite wall. He read the time, purely for something to do; he didn't currently care to know the time. But he watched the second hand tick round to twelve, signalling that it was exactly one minute past nine. He looked over at Ron, who was still sleeping, as usual. His peaceful slumber was not interrupted by loud, rumbling snores, as was his usual custom. It was punctuated by low murmurs, as he spoke in his sleep. Harry listened intently to the words tumbling from Ron's lips, and tried to make sense of them. Eventually he came to the conclusion that Ron went on rather crazy expeditions in his sleep, as he was speaking, to no one in particular, about rotten fish. Harry chuckled quietly, yet somewhat darkly to himself, he wondered what Ron was dreaming about, but his curiosity was mingled with envy. What he wouldn't give to have harmless visions of nonsense invade his mind as he rested within the clutches of sleep. Harry forced himself to look away from his mumbling friend, and at the calendar at the wall. It was the thirty first of August. He would be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, along with Ron and Hermione, and all of his other classmates - and enemies. He groaned internally when he thought of Malfoy, ice prince of Slytherin house. He fought to restrain his mind from thinking the terrible stream of profanities that would have come spilling from his mouth if he hadn't stopped them. He thought about Hogwarts, about the old castle, which he called home. He couldn't wait to go back, and he knew, somewhere inside of him, that he would be welcomed back. It was the one spot of light on his horizon, which stubbornly remained black since the return of Voldemort. Every possible future he could imagine either ended with death, or didn't continue past the war section. Harry knew he had the wizarding world resting on his shoulders, and he hated it. He hated everything about it, from tiny trivial things, like his picture in the paper, to huge, dark things like death and destruction. He sighed slightly and thought about the 'home' he had left. His aunt, uncle and cousin were horrible to him, they tried to make every second of his summer miserable, he hated them, yet he didn't want them to perish, especially not under the hand of his biggest enemy. He shivered slightly, and was pulled out of his reverie by a quiet knock on the door. A couple of seconds after the knock, a soft voice floated through the door. "Harry? Ron? Are you awake?" Harry recognized the voice immediately; it belonged to Hermione Granger, his other best friend. He was about to answer her when he heard something crashing to the floor from the opposite side of the room. He jerked around and looked at Ron who was sitting up in bed, twisted sideways and looking at the floor, where a glass lay, broken, and spilling water everywhere. It soaked quickly into the carpet, spreading itself like butter upon bread. Ron just stared at it, watching the water move in fascination; he seemed to be in a trance. A louder knock on the door made him snap to attention. "Ron! Harry! Wake up! Your mum says breakfast's ready!" Ron hastened to reply, "'kay!" he called after her retreating footsteps. He looked at Harry, "You okay mate? You look like death." Harry grimaced at his choice of words but nodded anyway, concentrating on his scar for a second, the pain was slowly receding; it had lessened to a small throb. He heard a voice floating through his temporary barrier, and he turned his attention to it, Ron was still talking to him. "I had a really weird dream last night, I was being chased through Hogwarts by a monster, it was massive, and it had scales, and six legs, and it smelt disgusting." Ron's face was a picture of awe. Harry didn't have the heart to burst his bubble, so he kept quiet about the 'rotten fish' incident, no doubt it would just cause Ron to blush like a schoolgirl. A shout rung through the house, blocking Harry's thought process. "Breakfast's ready!" Harry and Ron scrambled out of bed, Ron stepping gingerly over the glass imbedded in the floor, he left the room with a quiet "I'll sort that out later." Harry was quick on his heels.

As they descended through the house, the glorious smell of Mrs Weasley's cooking overtook them. They rushed the last staircase and practically sprinted into the kitchen. They skidded to a halt when they saw the table. It was laden with everything you could ever imagine, bacon, sausages, kippers, eggs - scrambled, fried, boiled and poached, toast, bread and butter, baked beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, hash browns, black pudding, onions, jam, marmalade, muggle Marmite, extra butter, peanut butter and a large block of cheese, there were drinks clustered in the centre, coffee, tea, orange juice, pumpkin juice, water, milk, apple juice, pineapple juice, tomato juice, lemon tea and some kind of herbal tea. It was a feast, and Harry was surprised that the table didn't break under the weight of the food. Harry and Ron bounced over to the only remaining seats at the table and started filling their plates. When Harry was helping himself to some bacon, Mrs Weasley began to speak, "I'm glad to see you have your appetite back, dear," she started, "You'll have to keep that up this year, and make sure you study hard, you have you OWLs." She finished the sentence with her fork halfway to her mouth, dripping tomato sauce back onto her plate, she looked a little cross. Harry and Ron gave hurried nods at her request and Hermione added an exasperated "Of course we will." Mrs Weasley nodded in satisfaction and carried on talking, putting her cutlery down as she did. "Ron, Hermione, you need to try extra hard at school, as you are prefects." Mrs Weasley continued. She looked over at Harry after she said this, and Harry just smiled politely back. He knew that Mrs Weasley thought he was upset about not becoming a prefect, but he wasn't upset at all. He was happy for his friends. Wasn't he? "And, you two, you have your NEWTs, which you must pass, or you won't get anywhere." Mrs Weasley said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. She was giving the twins a stern look, but they weren't fazed, they just replied smoothly, and in unison, "No problem mum, this is our last year, and it will be the best ever." They smiled identical evil grins, causing everyone around the table who was of age to begin checking their food with diagnostic spells. Mrs Weasley tutted and ruffled the twins' hair before turning back to her food. After that, there wasn't much speech; everybody was trying to eat as much food as possible. Harry was used to that kind of breakfast, due to the fact that he had been eating similarly all week, although none were as grand and extensive.

Soon, they had all finished eating, their stomachs were fuller than they had been in a while and Harry had certainly never eaten so much in his life. It was after they had cleared up that Mrs Weasley spoke again to the group that were loitering in the kitchen, "Now, you lot, have you all got the books you need?" There was a chorus of badly timed yes' as well as a large quantity of half hearted nods. "Good," she answered, "Then you can go and pack your trunks, and don't miss anything!" She finished shrilly, and everyone darted out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. They separated at different points in the tall house, all going into their separate bedrooms, apart from Hermione, who went in with Ginny, Fred and George, who shared a room, and Harry and Ron, who travelled to the very top of the house together and passed through the same doorway into Ron's bright orange Chudley Cannon's room. Harry pulled his trunk out from against the far wall and set it on its bottom, opening it to reveal the mess within. His books were jumbled, strewn randomly between his unfolded robes. A tip of the Marauder's map poked out at one edge, and the end of his firebolt at another. He began to organize his case, righting the books so that they were straight, folding his robes and putting all of his other possessions in a leather box that he had received for his birthday. He locked the little box and put it in a corner of his trunk, covering it with a pile of clothing. He and Ron then set out to locate and retrieve the remainder of their possessions that had been scattered around the house.

After several hours, their cases were packed, and stacked near the front door, ready for their exit. Harry and Ron drifted back upstairs, to get their owls. Hedwig was asleep when Harry got there, her head tucked under her snowy wing. He poked a few owl treats through the bars of her cage and lifted it from the sideboard gently, being careful not to wake her. Although his efforts were worthless, because a shout echoed up the house from the kitchen, and Hedwig gave a loud screech and ruffled her feathers indignantly. He poked his fingers through the bars of her cage and stroked her softly, soothing her back to sleep. She began to drift off, giving him a soft nip of thanks on the finger before tucking her head back under her wing. He smiled at her, it was a smile full of warmth and contentment, it was carefree, and he paired it with a sigh. He walked towards the door, almost floating down the stairs, dreamlike, not paying attention to where he was going, he left Hedwig's cage with the trunks and went to the kitchen, a grin still plastered upon his face.

He sat at the table, between the twins and Ginny, and started to pile food onto his plate as he had with breakfast. There was every possible food imaginable set upon the table in front of him. There were sandwiches with a million different fillings, toasted sandwiches, filled with everything from cheese to bacon. There were crisps, and fruit, and salad too. Harry helped himself to a cheese and tomato sandwich, an apple and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. Hermione and Ron descended into the kitchen and sat opposite Harry, gathering food from the almost empty platters. When everyone was busy eating and making small talk, Mrs Weasley spoke over them all. "I have something to tell you all," she stated, bringing the attention of those around the table to herself. Everyone had looks of worry on their faces and they turned in alarm to Mrs Weasley as soon as she began to speak. "Don't look so worried! It's not bad news." She said with a shrill edge to her voice. "What is it mum?" Ginny asked, her face calmer, but still etched with shallow lines of worry. "Well, you know you have a new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher this year…" she began, excitement creeping onto her face. Everyone around her nodded, somewhat apprehensively, they all remembered last year, when Mad Eye Moody had been their professor. Memories washed over them all as they remembered his style of teaching and who exactly he had turned out to be. A shiver of anticipation ran through the teenagers, and Molly Weasley hastened to continue. "Well, I discovered yesterday, that an old friend of mine, Professor Margaret Love, is taking over from Professor Moody," she told them, "We are all going to visit her today, to congratulate her. I want you all to come so that you can meet her." She finished eagerly. Fred and George's faces were identical pictures of horror, they were far from happy. "Mu-um!" they whined, "Why do we have to meet the teacher today, before we start school? This is the last day of the summer, we want to make the most of it!" said Fred, "Yeah," agreed George, "Why can't we just meet her tomorrow, like everybody else?" Mrs Weasley seemed to grow in height as her anger overtook her, "Because I want you to meet her today! That's enough arguments, finish eating and go get ready!" she said angrily, her voice raised an octave or two higher than usual.

An hour later, the large family, as well as Harry and Hermione were crowded around a small, rickety table, upon this sat an old, muddy shoe with holes and rips adorning its every surface. "Portkey, yeah, mum?" said Ron, a touch of hesitance in his voice. Mrs Weasley nodded at him quickly, and turned to Harry. She brushed down his shoulders and attempted to flatten his hair. She straightened his glasses and patted him on the head, before facing the portkey once again. Harry thought this was very odd; he repositioned his spectacles the way he liked them and messed his hair up again. Ron smirked at him, but the smile vanished when Mrs Weasley started combing his hair too. Harry stifled a laugh and thought back to the last time he had used a portkey. It had been during the Triwizard Tournament, and it wasn't a very pleasant experience. Harry tried not to let his mind dwell on the happenings of the third task but it remained impossible during his many hours of solitude at the Dursley's. The image of Cedric Diggory, lying on the ground, his eyes wide open and lacking light, flashed through Harry's mind. He shook his head quickly to rid the thought from his brain, but not before Mrs Weasley had noticed him. She abandoned Ron's hair and walked to Harry quickly. She laid her hands on his shoulders, and she spoke to him, her voice quiet. "Don't worry, Harry dear, it'll be okay." Harry nodded and replied, his voice lower even than hers. "I'm fine." He said, although, it was quite clear that he wasn't.

The Weasley's, Harry and Hermione put a single finger on the portkey, and waited for it to activate. Fred and George were shooting furtive glances towards each other, they were worried, it seemed, but a grin escaped every so often. It wasn't long before the congregation felt the hook just below their navel, and they were whisked off to Margaret Love's house, where the unknown awaited.