CHAPTER ONE
Aunt Petunia's Big Discovery
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close as a lazy silence fell upon the dozens of large square houses of Privet Drive. One teenage boy, Harry Potter, was outside still, lying on his back in a flower bed. However unusual this may have appeared for a boy at the age of fifteen at the end of a summer day, that was nothing compared to how unusual the boy was; Harry Potter was unusual in all senses. For one, he detested the summer holidays; for two, he kept a flying broom in the cupboard under the stairs, along with spell books and other such things; and for another, he was a wizard, a wizard who attended a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Yet another quarell had broken out inside the house between Dudley and his parents. He had returned home from Smeltings, the school he attended, even larger and rounder than he had been when he left. What once had been three chins now seemed like six, and what once had seemed like baby fat on his porky skin, now seemed more like blubber. The Dursleys had spent all last summer putting Dudley on a diet prescribe by the smeltings nurse, but now the hard work had plainly been for nothing. He had returned home with a pair of shoes ripped completely in half from his oversized feet.
The nurse had sent a letter advising the Dursleys to give him no more than one meal per day, with no meat at all, only very small rations of vegetables and fruits which included beets, celery, and Dudley's greatest fear, radishes.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, who had at one point insisted Dudley was just a growing boy, had now faced the truth. Dudley was a flat out glutton. However, that did not stop Uncle Vernon from commenting on the fact that radishes were for horses, and not fit for human consumption.
Meanwhile, Aunt Petunia had been facing another dilemna; Dudley was clearly not happy about his new eating schedule. He would sneak out of bed late at night to run to the kitchen with his porky self and theive from the food pantry. Aunt Petunia's first solution was to hide the food in the cupboard, but Dudley had seemingly smelled his way to it. In the end, his mother and father resorted to the only thing they knew to do; they bought locks for all the cabinets and pantries, hiding the keys in a secret drawer inside of Petunia's vanity. But Dudley again found the keys, so it was finally decided that Dudley's room be locked in at night, and they he be under surveillance at all times in the day.
The actual enforcement of these new rules had led to over a dozen fights during the holidays, infact, the Dursleys were so busy keeping an eye on Dudley that they had forgotten to be mean to Harry. Harry had seized this time to take quick glimpses of the tv, flipping around channels with his new found freedom, and even one time, sneaking onto Dudley's computer (Whose desktop backgrond had been of a piece of pork).
And now, on Harry's birthday, which had clearly been forgotten, another fight had broken out because Dudley had refused to eat any of his carrots, claiming that he was not a rabbit. Harry didn't think he was a rabbit either. Harry thought he was a pig to be truthful.
Harry seized this oppurtunity to escape outdoors, tired of hearing the quarreling indoors all the time.
As he lay on his back, watching the fluffy pink clouds float lazily across the darkening red sky, he turned to notice a neighbor walking outside of her house, wearing black robes, and carrying a rather raggedy brown leather suitcase (which had one dirty yellow sock hanging out of it) with her. Following her was one of her cats who Harry identified as snow ball. Her name was Arabella Figg, whom the Dursleys would leave Harry with when they were going out, that is, they did, until Harry discovered he was a wizard, and then, fearing he would tell her of his abnormalties, they from there out left Harry locked alone in his room, as to keep him from messing with important stuff.
Harry stared at her. He had seldom seen her outside of her house, but had quite often this summer. There was even one account where she had been outside clipping shrubs that he had been sure she had disappeared into thin air. Indeed, she had been acting strange this summer, even whackier than she usually did.
Harry surveyed her through his round black framed glasses. Surely normal muggles such as her didn't often go outside with robes on and a suitcase in hand? Not unless they were a wizard, which was an absolute absurd thought, as Harry had spent much time with Mrs. Figg during previous years, and not once had he noticed anything that would indicate she was a wizard.
She was a tall, plump, big built old lady with white milky white hair that she always kept up in a bun; she could often be seen wearing a straw hat with a small daisy at the top of it. Her shoes looked as that of a 17th century person's shoes; black with a gold buckle at the top of them.
As Harry lay, piercing into her, he saw her turn to him. Realizing he was there, she gave a slight look of shock and terror, then, smiled at him and nodded as she walked over.
"Hello, Harry." She said in her most polite tone.
"Hello Mrs. Figg," Harry replied to her.
"And what might you be doing this late in the flower bed?" She asked, gazing down at the dirt that had gathered on his back.
"Oh, that..." Harry turned and nodded to the house, where shouts could easily be heard coming from the house. Mrs. Figg obviously didn't need explanation any further.
"Ah, so, a fight again I see."
Harry glanced up at her, and nodded with a slight smile on his face. For a moment he had forgotten the rather unusual clothing, for a muggle atleast, that she had been wearing, coupled along with the suitcase.
"Um, what's..." Harry began, but he could not finish, as Mrs. Figg had obviously caught on.
"Oh, this?" She said, holding out the suitcase. "Well, I am going to be gone until next summer, so I thought I'd better pack."
"What?" Harry said in a quizzial way. "Why? Where are you going?"
"Well, I was going to keep this quiet, but I'm--" She never finished, because no sooner had she tried to get the words out than Uncle Vernon's voice had come bellowing out of the front door.
"HARRY POTTER! IN HERE! NOW!"
"S-sorry, got to go." Harry said in a nervous tone, jumping up from the flower bed and dusting his over sized jeans over that had belonged to Dudley at the age of ten. "See you next year Mrs. Figg..."
She nodded. "Yes well, see you in a few weeks dear."
Harry did not even wonder what she meant by a few weeks, the woman was obviously off her rocker a bit, but he also was rushing to get into the house before his uncle blew a gasket.
Harry walked into the house, where he could see his uncle standing at the foot of the stairs, yelling up to Dudley's room, and his shrieking aunt, running downwards. Apparently, somehow, they had managed to lock Dudley back into his room, and now he was apparently trashing his room, punching the walls, and throw things out the window, (CRASH!)in a vain attempt to escape.
"Um," Harry stammered, "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
If Uncle Vernon was angry with Harry, there was no knowing how bad it would be now that he was mad with Dudley, also. And indeed his uncle must have been quite mad, because he turned around to Harry, his face turning purple and his vains popping out across his face. His eyes look like those of an angry bull's read to charge.
"THERE IS A RUDDY BIRD ZOOMING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN WITH A PACKAGE! HE LANDED ON DUDLEY'S HEAD! NEARLY FRIGHTENED THE POOR BOY TO DEATH AND HE RAN TO HIS ROOM WHERE PETUNIA LOCKED HIM UP! IF YOU DON'T--" But his uncle was stopped, because all of a sudden, the 'ruddy bird' that he had been speaking of came zooming through the open door from the kitchen and into the parlor. Harry recognized it at once.
"Pig!" He shouted, running over to it, letting the tawny owl fly down into his hands, squeaking ecstatically having delievered the parcel.
Pig was his best friend at Hogwarts, Ron's owl. He had gotten him at the end of their third year.
"I told you," Uncle Vernon snarled, "That there will be none of that nonesense coming in any of the rooms of this house besides yours!"
"Sorry Uncle Vernon," Harry said, not sounding at all apologetic.
"Sorry?! SORRY?" He snapped. "What do you think our neighbors would think if they saw that owl flying into our house, with a package?!"
"Well," Harry said, holding Pig closer to him and shoving the parcel into his pocket.
"Mrs. Figg clearly isn't there anyway, just talked to her outside, she's walking around in a cloak with a suitcase. And the Hendersons, well they left on vacation last-"
But Uncle Vernon clearly had not been, nor did he want, a reply from Harry. He grabbed at the bird and the parcel, but Harry quickly bounded to the second step of the staircase, making a creaking sound as he ran up the stairway, Pig in hand, heading to his room, his Uncle running after him.
Avoiding his uncle's reached out hands, Harry ran to his room door, his uncle yelling after him. And all of a sudden, as his uncle was advancing on him, about to pounce and grab him, Harry reached into his jean pockets, and produced his wand, pointing it staight at his uncle.
Uncle Vernon's face went into one of horror; His overgrown mustache began to twitch profondly; His eyes swelled to the size of that of a large marble; and his mouth fell gaping wide open, as his face sunk in, as if to run backwards.
"I thought I-I told you to keep that thing locked away!" Uncle Vernon said, but less bravely this time, in an almost frightened tone.
"I keep it with me anyway," Harry said, beaming at his uncle angrily, "Just incase." And with that, Harry lifted his wand back down into his pocket, gave his terrified uncle one last glance, and walk slowly to his room, going inside and locking it tightly.
Once he had walked into his room, he pulled Pig out of his pocket, who now began hooting happily again as he zoomed around the room. Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, began clicking her beak menacingly at it. It was no suprise Hedwig was jealous of other owls, especially Pig, who's pridefulness rose above his accomplishment.
Harry sat the parcel down on his desk and pulled up a chair to it. Looking down at it, he carefully pulled away the prickly string that it was tied with, tore apart the brown paper, and unraveled the package to find a box and a envelope inside of it. Harry carefully tore open the envelope, which also happened to conceal a news clipping from the Daily Prophet, the wizard newspaper. Harry looked at the letter:
Harry,
Happy birthday! Hope you like the candy I sent, mum made it, though I'm not sure of how it tastes, I haven't tried it for myself yet. I hope Pig was able to carry it without becoming too tired, I know his a bit small for all of this.
You haven't seen the Daily Prophet lately have you? I know the muggles probably won't let you get it. Strange article was in there, concerning Professor Lupin...it was written by Rita Skeeter. Wonder how she's writing? I thought Hermione had her locked away. I asked Percy if I could borrow his owl, but he wouldn't let me, and Errol, well, Errol isn't very reliable so I guess I'll just have to wait until we get back to Hogwarts.Well, see you soon Harry!
-RON
Harry turned to the box of chocolates and opened them. As he began to eat them, (they were quite delicious indeed) he looked down to the newspaper article Ron had been talking about. Slowly he began to read it to himself:
LUPIN'S MYSTERIOUS VISIT TO ST. MONGOS
by Rita Skeeter
Professor Remus J. Lupin, ex Defense againt the Dark
Arts teacher at Hogwarts, who was found to be a devious
werewolf in his final weeks at Hogwarts before resiging,
was checked into St. Mungo's late Tuesday afternoon.
One wonders if this human eater of a man has been
checked in for some work on his abnormalties. While
representatives at St. Mungos declare that that is not it,
we believe that whatever it is is being hidden because
Professor Lupin has a deep secret he does not want
revealed, even deeper that the fact the he is a were-
wolf. We can assure you that we will try to learn as
much as we can and keep you posted with the Daily
Prophet on this story as it unravels.
Rita Skeeter was a nosey, gossipy, truth stretcher whom Harry and his friends had had much trouble with his previous year due to her stretching of the truth in her stories. Hermione had discovered that she was an Animagi, one who could turn into an animal form, and that she had been turning into a bug to get her stories. Hermione eventually figured this out and caught Rita in a jar, and as far as Harry knew she still had her. However, with this most recent story it made Harry wonder.
Over the next several hours, Harry recieved three more owls with packages. One from Hermione, who sent him a book entitled Quidditch: From the Ancient World, one from Hagrid, who sent him a box of Chocolate Frogs, and one from his godfather Sirius Black, who sent him a new Firebolt cleaning kit along with a happy birthday letter.
After sending back thank-you letters to Ron, Hagrid, Sirius, and Hermione, he went to bed. He had been contemplating while writing Hermione's letter as whether or not to ask her about Rita. He decided he would wait until they met at school instead.
* * *
August came; the leaves began to turn a slight shade of orange in certain trees, however few.
Dudley was still giving his parents problems, though, not as much since Uncle Vernon had punished him by taking away his tv. Meanwhile, Aunt Petunia was becoming increasingly thinner; she was already a skinny woman and the whole family was eating the same meal as Dudely. Her blonde hair was now beginning to grow gray, mainly from stress.
Dudley, however, was a completely different story. He was not becoming thinner, rather, he was becoming even larger still. Infact, when Uncle Vernon forced him to stand on the kitchen scales, the pointer began to spin around aimlessly in circles, and the scale fell apart under the weight, leaving springs and mechanical wheels flying everywhere.
While everyone else was eating small rations of horrid tasting vegetables, Harry had been secretly hiding food that had been sent from his friends, of which he would eat when he got to his room.
One day, Harry was up early at daybreak and on his way down for 'breakfast' when he suddenly heard loud noises and bagning coming from the kitchen. What could possibly be happening this early? Surely Dudley wasn't up this early to have his daily temper tantrum? Eyes trailing over to the door, Harry slowly crept towards it. Brushing against it, it slowly creaked open and he could now hear fighting. He peered around the corner to said Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia arguing.
"But Petunia--"
"Vernon! No buts, something has to be done-"
"He's just a growing boy Petunia."
"Growing?!" She shrieked. "He's so big he can't even be weighed!"
"But!"
"Vernon!"
And then Harry saw something he thought must have been a hallucination, then, when he realized it wasn't, he pinched himself to make sure he wasn't having a dream. Definately not a dream.
Aunt Petunia gazed into Vernon, her eyes were actually glowing a slight shade of Red. Vernon's eyes gave a look of horror, and he flew into a corner, yelling.
"V-Vernon!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, suprised at herself.
Uncle Vernon was slowly standing up, huffing, shakily, as he looked to Petunia with eyes the size of saucers.
"You're eyes Petunia-they were-red!"
Aunt Petunia clamped her hands to her mouth. "So it's true Vernon, I'm...I'm one of them!"
"What?" Uncle Vernon, said horrified.
Harry knew what 'One of them' meant. She meant a wizard, or witch moreover. He knew what had happened; When a witch or wizard becomes angry, strange things they did not intend seem to happen. He had demonstrated this when he blew up his Aunt Marge one year.
But Aunt Petunia, a witch? That was the last thing he had ever expected. For Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hated anything and everyone out of the ordinary. They had detested Harry his whole life, and he had realized why when he discovered he was a wizard.
Shaking from shock, Harry slowly made his way up the stairway. So Aunt Petunia did have some magic in her, that didn't mean she was a full witch. Since his mother and her parents had been muggles, Aunt Petunia was most likely a squib, one who could not preform magic easily as most wizards, probably why she had never recieved her Hogwarts letter. And then, Harry decided, she was not a fully fledged wizard, but she did have some, however little powers in her. He shouldn't have been suprised at this finding, afterall, she would have some wizard blood in her. His mother, her sister, afte rall, had been a fully fledged witch.
This in mind, yawning, Harry headed back up to his room and fell back to sleep, the screamings below reverting back up, but becoming only echos in his mind as he drifted off. He had a nightmare then, one he had had all summer.
Aunt Petunia's Big Discovery
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close as a lazy silence fell upon the dozens of large square houses of Privet Drive. One teenage boy, Harry Potter, was outside still, lying on his back in a flower bed. However unusual this may have appeared for a boy at the age of fifteen at the end of a summer day, that was nothing compared to how unusual the boy was; Harry Potter was unusual in all senses. For one, he detested the summer holidays; for two, he kept a flying broom in the cupboard under the stairs, along with spell books and other such things; and for another, he was a wizard, a wizard who attended a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Yet another quarell had broken out inside the house between Dudley and his parents. He had returned home from Smeltings, the school he attended, even larger and rounder than he had been when he left. What once had been three chins now seemed like six, and what once had seemed like baby fat on his porky skin, now seemed more like blubber. The Dursleys had spent all last summer putting Dudley on a diet prescribe by the smeltings nurse, but now the hard work had plainly been for nothing. He had returned home with a pair of shoes ripped completely in half from his oversized feet.
The nurse had sent a letter advising the Dursleys to give him no more than one meal per day, with no meat at all, only very small rations of vegetables and fruits which included beets, celery, and Dudley's greatest fear, radishes.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, who had at one point insisted Dudley was just a growing boy, had now faced the truth. Dudley was a flat out glutton. However, that did not stop Uncle Vernon from commenting on the fact that radishes were for horses, and not fit for human consumption.
Meanwhile, Aunt Petunia had been facing another dilemna; Dudley was clearly not happy about his new eating schedule. He would sneak out of bed late at night to run to the kitchen with his porky self and theive from the food pantry. Aunt Petunia's first solution was to hide the food in the cupboard, but Dudley had seemingly smelled his way to it. In the end, his mother and father resorted to the only thing they knew to do; they bought locks for all the cabinets and pantries, hiding the keys in a secret drawer inside of Petunia's vanity. But Dudley again found the keys, so it was finally decided that Dudley's room be locked in at night, and they he be under surveillance at all times in the day.
The actual enforcement of these new rules had led to over a dozen fights during the holidays, infact, the Dursleys were so busy keeping an eye on Dudley that they had forgotten to be mean to Harry. Harry had seized this time to take quick glimpses of the tv, flipping around channels with his new found freedom, and even one time, sneaking onto Dudley's computer (Whose desktop backgrond had been of a piece of pork).
And now, on Harry's birthday, which had clearly been forgotten, another fight had broken out because Dudley had refused to eat any of his carrots, claiming that he was not a rabbit. Harry didn't think he was a rabbit either. Harry thought he was a pig to be truthful.
Harry seized this oppurtunity to escape outdoors, tired of hearing the quarreling indoors all the time.
As he lay on his back, watching the fluffy pink clouds float lazily across the darkening red sky, he turned to notice a neighbor walking outside of her house, wearing black robes, and carrying a rather raggedy brown leather suitcase (which had one dirty yellow sock hanging out of it) with her. Following her was one of her cats who Harry identified as snow ball. Her name was Arabella Figg, whom the Dursleys would leave Harry with when they were going out, that is, they did, until Harry discovered he was a wizard, and then, fearing he would tell her of his abnormalties, they from there out left Harry locked alone in his room, as to keep him from messing with important stuff.
Harry stared at her. He had seldom seen her outside of her house, but had quite often this summer. There was even one account where she had been outside clipping shrubs that he had been sure she had disappeared into thin air. Indeed, she had been acting strange this summer, even whackier than she usually did.
Harry surveyed her through his round black framed glasses. Surely normal muggles such as her didn't often go outside with robes on and a suitcase in hand? Not unless they were a wizard, which was an absolute absurd thought, as Harry had spent much time with Mrs. Figg during previous years, and not once had he noticed anything that would indicate she was a wizard.
She was a tall, plump, big built old lady with white milky white hair that she always kept up in a bun; she could often be seen wearing a straw hat with a small daisy at the top of it. Her shoes looked as that of a 17th century person's shoes; black with a gold buckle at the top of them.
As Harry lay, piercing into her, he saw her turn to him. Realizing he was there, she gave a slight look of shock and terror, then, smiled at him and nodded as she walked over.
"Hello, Harry." She said in her most polite tone.
"Hello Mrs. Figg," Harry replied to her.
"And what might you be doing this late in the flower bed?" She asked, gazing down at the dirt that had gathered on his back.
"Oh, that..." Harry turned and nodded to the house, where shouts could easily be heard coming from the house. Mrs. Figg obviously didn't need explanation any further.
"Ah, so, a fight again I see."
Harry glanced up at her, and nodded with a slight smile on his face. For a moment he had forgotten the rather unusual clothing, for a muggle atleast, that she had been wearing, coupled along with the suitcase.
"Um, what's..." Harry began, but he could not finish, as Mrs. Figg had obviously caught on.
"Oh, this?" She said, holding out the suitcase. "Well, I am going to be gone until next summer, so I thought I'd better pack."
"What?" Harry said in a quizzial way. "Why? Where are you going?"
"Well, I was going to keep this quiet, but I'm--" She never finished, because no sooner had she tried to get the words out than Uncle Vernon's voice had come bellowing out of the front door.
"HARRY POTTER! IN HERE! NOW!"
"S-sorry, got to go." Harry said in a nervous tone, jumping up from the flower bed and dusting his over sized jeans over that had belonged to Dudley at the age of ten. "See you next year Mrs. Figg..."
She nodded. "Yes well, see you in a few weeks dear."
Harry did not even wonder what she meant by a few weeks, the woman was obviously off her rocker a bit, but he also was rushing to get into the house before his uncle blew a gasket.
Harry walked into the house, where he could see his uncle standing at the foot of the stairs, yelling up to Dudley's room, and his shrieking aunt, running downwards. Apparently, somehow, they had managed to lock Dudley back into his room, and now he was apparently trashing his room, punching the walls, and throw things out the window, (CRASH!)in a vain attempt to escape.
"Um," Harry stammered, "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
If Uncle Vernon was angry with Harry, there was no knowing how bad it would be now that he was mad with Dudley, also. And indeed his uncle must have been quite mad, because he turned around to Harry, his face turning purple and his vains popping out across his face. His eyes look like those of an angry bull's read to charge.
"THERE IS A RUDDY BIRD ZOOMING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN WITH A PACKAGE! HE LANDED ON DUDLEY'S HEAD! NEARLY FRIGHTENED THE POOR BOY TO DEATH AND HE RAN TO HIS ROOM WHERE PETUNIA LOCKED HIM UP! IF YOU DON'T--" But his uncle was stopped, because all of a sudden, the 'ruddy bird' that he had been speaking of came zooming through the open door from the kitchen and into the parlor. Harry recognized it at once.
"Pig!" He shouted, running over to it, letting the tawny owl fly down into his hands, squeaking ecstatically having delievered the parcel.
Pig was his best friend at Hogwarts, Ron's owl. He had gotten him at the end of their third year.
"I told you," Uncle Vernon snarled, "That there will be none of that nonesense coming in any of the rooms of this house besides yours!"
"Sorry Uncle Vernon," Harry said, not sounding at all apologetic.
"Sorry?! SORRY?" He snapped. "What do you think our neighbors would think if they saw that owl flying into our house, with a package?!"
"Well," Harry said, holding Pig closer to him and shoving the parcel into his pocket.
"Mrs. Figg clearly isn't there anyway, just talked to her outside, she's walking around in a cloak with a suitcase. And the Hendersons, well they left on vacation last-"
But Uncle Vernon clearly had not been, nor did he want, a reply from Harry. He grabbed at the bird and the parcel, but Harry quickly bounded to the second step of the staircase, making a creaking sound as he ran up the stairway, Pig in hand, heading to his room, his Uncle running after him.
Avoiding his uncle's reached out hands, Harry ran to his room door, his uncle yelling after him. And all of a sudden, as his uncle was advancing on him, about to pounce and grab him, Harry reached into his jean pockets, and produced his wand, pointing it staight at his uncle.
Uncle Vernon's face went into one of horror; His overgrown mustache began to twitch profondly; His eyes swelled to the size of that of a large marble; and his mouth fell gaping wide open, as his face sunk in, as if to run backwards.
"I thought I-I told you to keep that thing locked away!" Uncle Vernon said, but less bravely this time, in an almost frightened tone.
"I keep it with me anyway," Harry said, beaming at his uncle angrily, "Just incase." And with that, Harry lifted his wand back down into his pocket, gave his terrified uncle one last glance, and walk slowly to his room, going inside and locking it tightly.
Once he had walked into his room, he pulled Pig out of his pocket, who now began hooting happily again as he zoomed around the room. Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, began clicking her beak menacingly at it. It was no suprise Hedwig was jealous of other owls, especially Pig, who's pridefulness rose above his accomplishment.
Harry sat the parcel down on his desk and pulled up a chair to it. Looking down at it, he carefully pulled away the prickly string that it was tied with, tore apart the brown paper, and unraveled the package to find a box and a envelope inside of it. Harry carefully tore open the envelope, which also happened to conceal a news clipping from the Daily Prophet, the wizard newspaper. Harry looked at the letter:
Harry,
Happy birthday! Hope you like the candy I sent, mum made it, though I'm not sure of how it tastes, I haven't tried it for myself yet. I hope Pig was able to carry it without becoming too tired, I know his a bit small for all of this.
You haven't seen the Daily Prophet lately have you? I know the muggles probably won't let you get it. Strange article was in there, concerning Professor Lupin...it was written by Rita Skeeter. Wonder how she's writing? I thought Hermione had her locked away. I asked Percy if I could borrow his owl, but he wouldn't let me, and Errol, well, Errol isn't very reliable so I guess I'll just have to wait until we get back to Hogwarts.Well, see you soon Harry!
-RON
Harry turned to the box of chocolates and opened them. As he began to eat them, (they were quite delicious indeed) he looked down to the newspaper article Ron had been talking about. Slowly he began to read it to himself:
LUPIN'S MYSTERIOUS VISIT TO ST. MONGOS
by Rita Skeeter
Professor Remus J. Lupin, ex Defense againt the Dark
Arts teacher at Hogwarts, who was found to be a devious
werewolf in his final weeks at Hogwarts before resiging,
was checked into St. Mungo's late Tuesday afternoon.
One wonders if this human eater of a man has been
checked in for some work on his abnormalties. While
representatives at St. Mungos declare that that is not it,
we believe that whatever it is is being hidden because
Professor Lupin has a deep secret he does not want
revealed, even deeper that the fact the he is a were-
wolf. We can assure you that we will try to learn as
much as we can and keep you posted with the Daily
Prophet on this story as it unravels.
Rita Skeeter was a nosey, gossipy, truth stretcher whom Harry and his friends had had much trouble with his previous year due to her stretching of the truth in her stories. Hermione had discovered that she was an Animagi, one who could turn into an animal form, and that she had been turning into a bug to get her stories. Hermione eventually figured this out and caught Rita in a jar, and as far as Harry knew she still had her. However, with this most recent story it made Harry wonder.
Over the next several hours, Harry recieved three more owls with packages. One from Hermione, who sent him a book entitled Quidditch: From the Ancient World, one from Hagrid, who sent him a box of Chocolate Frogs, and one from his godfather Sirius Black, who sent him a new Firebolt cleaning kit along with a happy birthday letter.
After sending back thank-you letters to Ron, Hagrid, Sirius, and Hermione, he went to bed. He had been contemplating while writing Hermione's letter as whether or not to ask her about Rita. He decided he would wait until they met at school instead.
* * *
August came; the leaves began to turn a slight shade of orange in certain trees, however few.
Dudley was still giving his parents problems, though, not as much since Uncle Vernon had punished him by taking away his tv. Meanwhile, Aunt Petunia was becoming increasingly thinner; she was already a skinny woman and the whole family was eating the same meal as Dudely. Her blonde hair was now beginning to grow gray, mainly from stress.
Dudley, however, was a completely different story. He was not becoming thinner, rather, he was becoming even larger still. Infact, when Uncle Vernon forced him to stand on the kitchen scales, the pointer began to spin around aimlessly in circles, and the scale fell apart under the weight, leaving springs and mechanical wheels flying everywhere.
While everyone else was eating small rations of horrid tasting vegetables, Harry had been secretly hiding food that had been sent from his friends, of which he would eat when he got to his room.
One day, Harry was up early at daybreak and on his way down for 'breakfast' when he suddenly heard loud noises and bagning coming from the kitchen. What could possibly be happening this early? Surely Dudley wasn't up this early to have his daily temper tantrum? Eyes trailing over to the door, Harry slowly crept towards it. Brushing against it, it slowly creaked open and he could now hear fighting. He peered around the corner to said Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia arguing.
"But Petunia--"
"Vernon! No buts, something has to be done-"
"He's just a growing boy Petunia."
"Growing?!" She shrieked. "He's so big he can't even be weighed!"
"But!"
"Vernon!"
And then Harry saw something he thought must have been a hallucination, then, when he realized it wasn't, he pinched himself to make sure he wasn't having a dream. Definately not a dream.
Aunt Petunia gazed into Vernon, her eyes were actually glowing a slight shade of Red. Vernon's eyes gave a look of horror, and he flew into a corner, yelling.
"V-Vernon!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, suprised at herself.
Uncle Vernon was slowly standing up, huffing, shakily, as he looked to Petunia with eyes the size of saucers.
"You're eyes Petunia-they were-red!"
Aunt Petunia clamped her hands to her mouth. "So it's true Vernon, I'm...I'm one of them!"
"What?" Uncle Vernon, said horrified.
Harry knew what 'One of them' meant. She meant a wizard, or witch moreover. He knew what had happened; When a witch or wizard becomes angry, strange things they did not intend seem to happen. He had demonstrated this when he blew up his Aunt Marge one year.
But Aunt Petunia, a witch? That was the last thing he had ever expected. For Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hated anything and everyone out of the ordinary. They had detested Harry his whole life, and he had realized why when he discovered he was a wizard.
Shaking from shock, Harry slowly made his way up the stairway. So Aunt Petunia did have some magic in her, that didn't mean she was a full witch. Since his mother and her parents had been muggles, Aunt Petunia was most likely a squib, one who could not preform magic easily as most wizards, probably why she had never recieved her Hogwarts letter. And then, Harry decided, she was not a fully fledged wizard, but she did have some, however little powers in her. He shouldn't have been suprised at this finding, afterall, she would have some wizard blood in her. His mother, her sister, afte rall, had been a fully fledged witch.
This in mind, yawning, Harry headed back up to his room and fell back to sleep, the screamings below reverting back up, but becoming only echos in his mind as he drifted off. He had a nightmare then, one he had had all summer.