CHAPTER 1: LETTERS AND PARCELS
And no nonsense from you. Understood?" Uncle Vernon's red face puffed and raged as he spoke.
Harry had ignored all five minutes of ranting and raving; partly because he had better things to think about, and partly because he had heard it all before.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he replied patiently, expelling a soft sigh of relief as he bounded up the stairs. He longed to go to Ron's house, to be with people of his own kind, but Dumbledore had insisted he stay with the Dursleys. He was extremely lonely here, and his uncle and aunt did not know of the things he had experienced at school last year. Nor would they listen if he tried to explain it to them.
Hedwig glanced up sleepily as he entered the room. She clacked her beak and closed her eyes again.
Uncle Vernon had been explaining to him that he was having business company over on Friday evening. Harry didn't know how he managed it, but every time his uncle had someone over, he managed to make his presence known. He often felt like Cinderella; tossed into the background as little more than a slave. He even had a godfather that had (almost) granted his wish… He had wanted so badly to get away from his uncle and aunt-- and his fat cousin, Dudley. But Sirius Black was still a wanted man, and Harry hardly got the chance to trade letters with him anymore, never mind actually live with him… And after what had happened last year, living with him was out of the question.
He slumped back onto his bed and his head hit something so hard he almost saw stars. "What the…" he muttered softly.
Harry sat back up, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and adjusting his glasses with the other. He looked down at the black parcel on his pillow.
"What is this?" He mused, picking it up and turning it over once. "Hedwig, did you bring this?" He glanced at the snowy owl, but she was sound asleep, as it was mid-afternoon.
The package had no markings, no letter attached, no writing of any kind on it.
It was too early for his birthday; today was Monday, and his birthday was on Saturday. Usually his well-wishers sent gifts promptly to the date, not earlier. He wondered ruefully if he would even make it to his birthday this year…
Harry rose and checked the door to make sure it was locked; wouldn't do to have one of the Dursleys come in and see what might be a wizarding item. Returning to the bed, he quickly unwrapped the package. The wrapping was made of black silk but the underside was silver. The material was cold to his touch, but he bet that if it touched his skin long enough it would be a warm cloak or something of the like.
The item it revealed was a nondescript metal box of some sort, about three inches thick and twelve inches long.
He popped the cover and saw a neatly folded letter peeking out from underneath more of the fabric. Unfolding the letter, he quickly scanned it and realized that it was from Sirius.
Dear Harry,
How have you been? Keeping busy, I hope. Our wise mutual friend says that you can go to your friend's house for the last week or two, but don't let it out that you're staying there.
I'm sending you this present early because I am doing something this weekend. Don't worry about me, I'll be careful. However, don't send me any owls. I'll get one to you when I can.
Harry paused. So, Dumbledore had cleared him to go to Ron's house. What exactly was Sirius up to anyway? Harry was especially uneasy about not being able to send Sirius a letter, but he understood the need for secrecy.
He turned back to the letter.
If your scar really starts to bother you, send an owl to Dumbledore. Hedwig will be able to find him, and he may be able to figure out what warning it is sending us. Anyway, just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Give Hedwig a scratch for me. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't give her it in person.
~Snuffles
Harry paused a long moment, deep in thought. His godfather definitely knew how to peak Harry's interest. Was this Dumbledore's errand or his own?
He reached inside the box, hoping the gift might give him a clue as to what Sirius was doing. He pulled out a set of slightly rumpled Daily Prophets, the daily wizarding newspaper. There were seven of them, one dating all the way back to the week after school ended. Hoping to catch up on some of the events in the wizarding world, he hastily read the headlines and glanced at the moving pictures. "Banshee Troubles Muggles in East London," (showing a wild lady with her mouth wide open, as if screaming); "Ministry Misses Apparation Bungle," (Harry did not want to look at that picture); "Ministry Commends Frugle For Creating Better Werewolf Potion," (Lupin would be happy about that one)…
As he read, it slowly dawned on him that something was wrong with these articles. He searched through one paper thoroughly, looking for a word, a name, even a Commentary from a concerned reader… Nothing.
No mention of any Dark Force gathering, of any Death Eaters brewing up trouble, not even the words "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
His world had chosen to ignore Harry and Dumbledore's warnings that Voldemort had returned, pushing them both aside on the basis of "funny turns" and "unkosher teachings." Neither of them had much power in the media anymore.
He flipped through the papers again; disgusted that no one wanted to face the facts. After an examination of the Editor's page in a recent paper, he finally found the words he was looking for… but it was only someone commenting on how much the Ministry had succeeded since Voldemort's demise.
His thoughts wandered to the events of last year. The Tri-Wizard Tournament, his stupid mistakes regarding a certain egg, Rita Skeeter's articles, the Trophy, Voldemort's rebirth, Cedric's death…
He shook his head angrily, blinking to hold back tears. Cedric's death had been his fault. As much as his friends and teachers had told him that he wasn't to blame, deep down inside he knew that he was. He had long since tried to reason with the feeling, deciding to let it lie and perhaps time would soften the blow. But it still stung every time he thought of the tragic events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
He pulled out the other contents of the box, rubbing his nose with his sleeve and pushing his glasses back up his nose. The inside fabric turned out to be a black cloak with silver lining. It glittered and sparkled as he admired it in the light, then the other object in the box caught his eye.
He brought out a globe about two inches in diameter. The first thing he thought of was Professor Trelawney, the Divinations Teacher, and her looking ball, predicting his doom. But when Harry looked it over again, no foggy shadows appeared beneath the surface. It remained a constant steel color, and the only thing that appeared on its smooth surface was his own distorted reflection.
Harry reread the letter and found no explanation of the strange magical sphere. Was it something obvious? Something that he should know about, but didn't because he had been widely ignorant of the magical realm until about four years ago.
He decided to write to Hermione. Perhaps she would know a bit more about the situation in the wizarding world or the sphere.
Dear Hermione,
I miss you and Ron a lot. Dudley's still on his diet, although I must say it's helping him a lot. He's already lost three pant sizes. How are you doing? I'm okay, I guess, just lonely.
I got a package from Snuffles today. He sent me my birthday present early because he's "doing something this weekend." I'm not sure whether to be glad that he's actually doing something or to be anxious for him.
Anyway, he sent me an odd globe as a present, but I can't figure out what it is. It's about two inches in diameter, and quite heavy. My first thought was a looking ball, but fortunately it wasn't. I think I would have thrown it out the window if it were… Do you know what it is?
Snuffles says that I can go visit Ron for the last week of vacation. Can you come? I'll see you there.
~Harry
He sealed it but didn't send Hedwig off with it because she was still asleep. Harry really wanted to know what the globe was, but he didn't have any books or such that would explain it.
"Come down if you want dinner, boy!" Aunt Petunia called up the stairs. Harry sighed, but quickly put the box and its contents into the topmost drawer, left the cloak hanging on the chair, and went down to eat.
And no nonsense from you. Understood?" Uncle Vernon's red face puffed and raged as he spoke.
Harry had ignored all five minutes of ranting and raving; partly because he had better things to think about, and partly because he had heard it all before.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he replied patiently, expelling a soft sigh of relief as he bounded up the stairs. He longed to go to Ron's house, to be with people of his own kind, but Dumbledore had insisted he stay with the Dursleys. He was extremely lonely here, and his uncle and aunt did not know of the things he had experienced at school last year. Nor would they listen if he tried to explain it to them.
Hedwig glanced up sleepily as he entered the room. She clacked her beak and closed her eyes again.
Uncle Vernon had been explaining to him that he was having business company over on Friday evening. Harry didn't know how he managed it, but every time his uncle had someone over, he managed to make his presence known. He often felt like Cinderella; tossed into the background as little more than a slave. He even had a godfather that had (almost) granted his wish… He had wanted so badly to get away from his uncle and aunt-- and his fat cousin, Dudley. But Sirius Black was still a wanted man, and Harry hardly got the chance to trade letters with him anymore, never mind actually live with him… And after what had happened last year, living with him was out of the question.
He slumped back onto his bed and his head hit something so hard he almost saw stars. "What the…" he muttered softly.
Harry sat back up, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and adjusting his glasses with the other. He looked down at the black parcel on his pillow.
"What is this?" He mused, picking it up and turning it over once. "Hedwig, did you bring this?" He glanced at the snowy owl, but she was sound asleep, as it was mid-afternoon.
The package had no markings, no letter attached, no writing of any kind on it.
It was too early for his birthday; today was Monday, and his birthday was on Saturday. Usually his well-wishers sent gifts promptly to the date, not earlier. He wondered ruefully if he would even make it to his birthday this year…
Harry rose and checked the door to make sure it was locked; wouldn't do to have one of the Dursleys come in and see what might be a wizarding item. Returning to the bed, he quickly unwrapped the package. The wrapping was made of black silk but the underside was silver. The material was cold to his touch, but he bet that if it touched his skin long enough it would be a warm cloak or something of the like.
The item it revealed was a nondescript metal box of some sort, about three inches thick and twelve inches long.
He popped the cover and saw a neatly folded letter peeking out from underneath more of the fabric. Unfolding the letter, he quickly scanned it and realized that it was from Sirius.
Dear Harry,
How have you been? Keeping busy, I hope. Our wise mutual friend says that you can go to your friend's house for the last week or two, but don't let it out that you're staying there.
I'm sending you this present early because I am doing something this weekend. Don't worry about me, I'll be careful. However, don't send me any owls. I'll get one to you when I can.
Harry paused. So, Dumbledore had cleared him to go to Ron's house. What exactly was Sirius up to anyway? Harry was especially uneasy about not being able to send Sirius a letter, but he understood the need for secrecy.
He turned back to the letter.
If your scar really starts to bother you, send an owl to Dumbledore. Hedwig will be able to find him, and he may be able to figure out what warning it is sending us. Anyway, just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Give Hedwig a scratch for me. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't give her it in person.
~Snuffles
Harry paused a long moment, deep in thought. His godfather definitely knew how to peak Harry's interest. Was this Dumbledore's errand or his own?
He reached inside the box, hoping the gift might give him a clue as to what Sirius was doing. He pulled out a set of slightly rumpled Daily Prophets, the daily wizarding newspaper. There were seven of them, one dating all the way back to the week after school ended. Hoping to catch up on some of the events in the wizarding world, he hastily read the headlines and glanced at the moving pictures. "Banshee Troubles Muggles in East London," (showing a wild lady with her mouth wide open, as if screaming); "Ministry Misses Apparation Bungle," (Harry did not want to look at that picture); "Ministry Commends Frugle For Creating Better Werewolf Potion," (Lupin would be happy about that one)…
As he read, it slowly dawned on him that something was wrong with these articles. He searched through one paper thoroughly, looking for a word, a name, even a Commentary from a concerned reader… Nothing.
No mention of any Dark Force gathering, of any Death Eaters brewing up trouble, not even the words "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
His world had chosen to ignore Harry and Dumbledore's warnings that Voldemort had returned, pushing them both aside on the basis of "funny turns" and "unkosher teachings." Neither of them had much power in the media anymore.
He flipped through the papers again; disgusted that no one wanted to face the facts. After an examination of the Editor's page in a recent paper, he finally found the words he was looking for… but it was only someone commenting on how much the Ministry had succeeded since Voldemort's demise.
His thoughts wandered to the events of last year. The Tri-Wizard Tournament, his stupid mistakes regarding a certain egg, Rita Skeeter's articles, the Trophy, Voldemort's rebirth, Cedric's death…
He shook his head angrily, blinking to hold back tears. Cedric's death had been his fault. As much as his friends and teachers had told him that he wasn't to blame, deep down inside he knew that he was. He had long since tried to reason with the feeling, deciding to let it lie and perhaps time would soften the blow. But it still stung every time he thought of the tragic events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
He pulled out the other contents of the box, rubbing his nose with his sleeve and pushing his glasses back up his nose. The inside fabric turned out to be a black cloak with silver lining. It glittered and sparkled as he admired it in the light, then the other object in the box caught his eye.
He brought out a globe about two inches in diameter. The first thing he thought of was Professor Trelawney, the Divinations Teacher, and her looking ball, predicting his doom. But when Harry looked it over again, no foggy shadows appeared beneath the surface. It remained a constant steel color, and the only thing that appeared on its smooth surface was his own distorted reflection.
Harry reread the letter and found no explanation of the strange magical sphere. Was it something obvious? Something that he should know about, but didn't because he had been widely ignorant of the magical realm until about four years ago.
He decided to write to Hermione. Perhaps she would know a bit more about the situation in the wizarding world or the sphere.
Dear Hermione,
I miss you and Ron a lot. Dudley's still on his diet, although I must say it's helping him a lot. He's already lost three pant sizes. How are you doing? I'm okay, I guess, just lonely.
I got a package from Snuffles today. He sent me my birthday present early because he's "doing something this weekend." I'm not sure whether to be glad that he's actually doing something or to be anxious for him.
Anyway, he sent me an odd globe as a present, but I can't figure out what it is. It's about two inches in diameter, and quite heavy. My first thought was a looking ball, but fortunately it wasn't. I think I would have thrown it out the window if it were… Do you know what it is?
Snuffles says that I can go visit Ron for the last week of vacation. Can you come? I'll see you there.
~Harry
He sealed it but didn't send Hedwig off with it because she was still asleep. Harry really wanted to know what the globe was, but he didn't have any books or such that would explain it.
"Come down if you want dinner, boy!" Aunt Petunia called up the stairs. Harry sighed, but quickly put the box and its contents into the topmost drawer, left the cloak hanging on the chair, and went down to eat.