Disclaimer: They're not mine, never were, never will be. This story is the
direct result of my total frustration with JKR and my desire to explore
different aspects of the Wizarding/Muggle world. Also to answer questions I
never got answers to in the books (and probably never will). Much thanks to
the Harry Potter Lexicon, an invaluable resource.
Setting/Spoilers: This takes place 1 week after the end of Goblet of Fire. References from all 4 books plus rumors and facts of what will be in book five are used.
Note: This story is still being developed, feedback wanted!
Chapter 1: Owl Post
All was silent on Privet Drive...well, almost silent. The soft flutter of owl wings gently faded as the white-feathered bird landed on the sill of one of the many identical houses. Inside number four Privet Drive slept a boy, with a mess of dark hair, and round spectacles sitting on his beside table. His room seemed ordinary enough, except perhaps a large purple book placed under his glasses with shining gold letters: THE NOBLE SPORT OF WARLOCKS.
tap, tap, tap. The boy stirred. Slowly he opened his eyes, fumbling for his glasses. The snowy owl could now be seen clearly by the boy. The boy Harry Potter; the boy-who-lived.
"Hedwig," he murmured groggily, opening to window. A cool breeze rushed in, along with the owl who landed lightly on the table. As Harry untied the letter attached to Hedwig's leg, the bird nipped at his finger, visibly upset by being locked out.
"I'm sorry," protested Harry, reached for an owl treat. "Uncle Vernon was complaining about the breeze. Besides, I expected you'd be gone longer."
The owl seemed to be somewhat content with this response, moving into its cage where it promptly ruffled its feathers and hooted at Harry indignantly. But Harry simply grinned, unfolding the parchment. He immediately recognized his friend Ron Weasley's familiar handwriting.
Harry, Things are crazy around here. Everyone's apparating in and out. Dad says the Ministry is falling apart because Fudge refuses to believe anything that's happened. Mum has been visiting other families, trying to get them to believe You-Know-Who is back. I'll tell you more about the others later, though. Dumbledore talked to Hermione's parents and they agreed to take you for the rest of the summer. Dad says now isn't a good time for visitors at the Burrow. Maybe I can come too. Send a message back, and one to Hermione. Ron.
PS Do you know some bloke named Figg?
Harry sighed, putting the piece of parchment on his desk and looking out his window. That past months has been some of the worst in his life, and something told him even worse were yet to come. Coming face to face with Voldemort, having all of the Unforgivable Curses attempted to be used on him. He shuddered, the memory of that voice muttering "Crucio" and then the pain.the searing pain running all through his body.
A loud snore from his aunt and uncle's room stirred him from his reverie. They had no idea of the dangers he had faced that year, how he had seen pure evil, almost died. No, to them he had just annoyingly returned from a place and people they wanted nothing to do with. Harry had spent the better part of the past week in his room, and the Dursleys had left well enough alone.
Picking up the parchment, he reread it carefully and with some happiness. He didn't really know the Grangers, only that they were Muggle dentists. He had seen them in Diagon Alley though and with Hermione as a daughter that had to be pretty intelligent. The final line of the message puzzled him though.Figg? The only Figg he knew was that old lady who used to watch after him while the Dursleys had their fun. Maybe she had a husband, but why would Ron think Harry knew him?
Reaching for two pieces of parchment, he dipped his quill in the ink and scribbled a quick message to Ron. Ron, I'll write to Hermione tonight. Have you heard anything about Snuffles? And who is Figg? Harry
Content with this message, he looked over at Hedwig who was quietly watching him. "Ready for another trip?" he asked, dipping his quill in the ink. Hedwig showed her approval by flying over to the window. Harry smiled and began his letter to Hermione.
Hermione, How is your summer so far? Ron told me Dumbledore said I could spend the summer with you. The Muggles will be glad. Did you let Rita Skeeter go yet? Harry.
After folding both the pieces of parchment, he tied them to Hedwig's leg who nipped his finger one last time before flying off into the night. Harry stood and returned to the comfort, or lack thereof, of his bed. As he closed his eyes, he tried to think of the upcoming Quidittch season at Hogwarts, and leaving the Dursleys. But there was a violent intrusion into his thoughts; Voldemort pointing his wand at a gasping Harry. "Avada Kedavra!" Only this time Harry didn't have his wand, and a blinding green light hit him.
His eyes opened quickly, his breathing heavy. It was times like these that he missed Madam Pomfrey's dreamless sleeping potion. Maybe Hermione could help him with his newly acquired insomnia. He slid THE NOBLE SPORT OF WARLOCKS off his desk and opened it. Another sleepless night.
Setting/Spoilers: This takes place 1 week after the end of Goblet of Fire. References from all 4 books plus rumors and facts of what will be in book five are used.
Note: This story is still being developed, feedback wanted!
Chapter 1: Owl Post
All was silent on Privet Drive...well, almost silent. The soft flutter of owl wings gently faded as the white-feathered bird landed on the sill of one of the many identical houses. Inside number four Privet Drive slept a boy, with a mess of dark hair, and round spectacles sitting on his beside table. His room seemed ordinary enough, except perhaps a large purple book placed under his glasses with shining gold letters: THE NOBLE SPORT OF WARLOCKS.
tap, tap, tap. The boy stirred. Slowly he opened his eyes, fumbling for his glasses. The snowy owl could now be seen clearly by the boy. The boy Harry Potter; the boy-who-lived.
"Hedwig," he murmured groggily, opening to window. A cool breeze rushed in, along with the owl who landed lightly on the table. As Harry untied the letter attached to Hedwig's leg, the bird nipped at his finger, visibly upset by being locked out.
"I'm sorry," protested Harry, reached for an owl treat. "Uncle Vernon was complaining about the breeze. Besides, I expected you'd be gone longer."
The owl seemed to be somewhat content with this response, moving into its cage where it promptly ruffled its feathers and hooted at Harry indignantly. But Harry simply grinned, unfolding the parchment. He immediately recognized his friend Ron Weasley's familiar handwriting.
Harry, Things are crazy around here. Everyone's apparating in and out. Dad says the Ministry is falling apart because Fudge refuses to believe anything that's happened. Mum has been visiting other families, trying to get them to believe You-Know-Who is back. I'll tell you more about the others later, though. Dumbledore talked to Hermione's parents and they agreed to take you for the rest of the summer. Dad says now isn't a good time for visitors at the Burrow. Maybe I can come too. Send a message back, and one to Hermione. Ron.
PS Do you know some bloke named Figg?
Harry sighed, putting the piece of parchment on his desk and looking out his window. That past months has been some of the worst in his life, and something told him even worse were yet to come. Coming face to face with Voldemort, having all of the Unforgivable Curses attempted to be used on him. He shuddered, the memory of that voice muttering "Crucio" and then the pain.the searing pain running all through his body.
A loud snore from his aunt and uncle's room stirred him from his reverie. They had no idea of the dangers he had faced that year, how he had seen pure evil, almost died. No, to them he had just annoyingly returned from a place and people they wanted nothing to do with. Harry had spent the better part of the past week in his room, and the Dursleys had left well enough alone.
Picking up the parchment, he reread it carefully and with some happiness. He didn't really know the Grangers, only that they were Muggle dentists. He had seen them in Diagon Alley though and with Hermione as a daughter that had to be pretty intelligent. The final line of the message puzzled him though.Figg? The only Figg he knew was that old lady who used to watch after him while the Dursleys had their fun. Maybe she had a husband, but why would Ron think Harry knew him?
Reaching for two pieces of parchment, he dipped his quill in the ink and scribbled a quick message to Ron. Ron, I'll write to Hermione tonight. Have you heard anything about Snuffles? And who is Figg? Harry
Content with this message, he looked over at Hedwig who was quietly watching him. "Ready for another trip?" he asked, dipping his quill in the ink. Hedwig showed her approval by flying over to the window. Harry smiled and began his letter to Hermione.
Hermione, How is your summer so far? Ron told me Dumbledore said I could spend the summer with you. The Muggles will be glad. Did you let Rita Skeeter go yet? Harry.
After folding both the pieces of parchment, he tied them to Hedwig's leg who nipped his finger one last time before flying off into the night. Harry stood and returned to the comfort, or lack thereof, of his bed. As he closed his eyes, he tried to think of the upcoming Quidittch season at Hogwarts, and leaving the Dursleys. But there was a violent intrusion into his thoughts; Voldemort pointing his wand at a gasping Harry. "Avada Kedavra!" Only this time Harry didn't have his wand, and a blinding green light hit him.
His eyes opened quickly, his breathing heavy. It was times like these that he missed Madam Pomfrey's dreamless sleeping potion. Maybe Hermione could help him with his newly acquired insomnia. He slid THE NOBLE SPORT OF WARLOCKS off his desk and opened it. Another sleepless night.