*For those of you who have read this story before, this is the same story,
but edited and changed. I've had too much time on my hands, and thought up
better stuff. Hope you like it.*
A/N- 'Ello, mates! This is my first fanfic, taking place in Harry & Co.'s sixth year, so be nice. For the purpose of this story, and because I absolutely refuse to accept his death, Sirius Black is alive and well. He, along with Remus Lupin (who, werewolf or not, society now accepts and doesn't care about him being a part-human) will come into the story later. I do not own anything seen in this story except for the plot and my own character (who will be introduced in the next chapter, should you choose to read it). Everything else is owned by J.K. Rowling; I am merely stea- *coughs -borrowing stuff for the time being. Enjoy!
~*~
Harry Potter sat down at the Gryffindor table with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. "Is there any oatmeal left?" he asked wearily. "Gee, nice greeting," Hermione replied sarcastically, looking up from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five. "Morning." he responded, while pointedly staring at the bowl of steaming hot oatmeal next to her plate. "All right, all right, I get it!" she rolled her eyes, passing him the bowl. "Wow, that's a first!" Ron exclaimed, then clutched his fork in defense as Hermione threateningly jabbed her knife in his direction. Harry grinned, glad to be back at Hogwarts and free from the Dursleys for yet another school year. Suddenly, Dean Thomas came up to them with their new schedules. "Harry, you're wanted in Dumbledore's office.don't ask me why, they just told me to tell you to come." Ron looked surprised. "Wow, we haven't done anything yet and he already wants you in his office.or did you do something stupid and not tell me about it?" Harry ignored him and packed his things into his bag, as breakfast was almost over. He wouldn't have time to come back for his things after seeing Dumbledore. "See you guys later." He called back as he walked out of the Great Hall. He, like Ron, wondered what he could have possibly done to be called down to Dumbledore's office so early in the school term.
~*~
He finally came to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance. His heart sank, remembering that the password changed frequently. The last one had been "cockroach cluster", but it had probably been changed since the last year. Knowing that many of Dumbledore's numerous passwords had been the names of his favorite candies, Harry began guessing popular wizarding brands. "Cauldron cakes?" No movement. "Chocolate frogs.er.Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?" Neither was successful. Fortunately, before long, Professor McGonagall showed up, saving him from hours of endless guessing. "I see you've received Professor Dumbledore's message. The password is "fizzing whizbees", by the way." As she spoke, the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the tunnel leading to the headmaster's office. Harry followed his Transfiguration professor through the winding passage, eventually coming to a door. Professor McGonagall lightly knocked on it, and, after hearing a weary voice call out, "Come in," opened it and stepped over the threshold. He followed her through the doorway, entering the circular office of Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore's eyes, after seeing Harry, lit up with what seemed to be a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Have a seat, Harry. There is an important matter that must be addressed immediately." Harry slowly sat down, his curious emerald eyes shifting their gaze between Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Dumbledore fixed his mystical gaze upon the teen in front of him. After a few moments, the old man sighed. "The time has come for me to tell you about your family." Harry was confused. Unfortunately, his parents were dead. They had been his only immediate family. Even more unfortunately, he lived with his last remaining relatives, the Dursleys. "But Professor," he began, but Dumbledore cut him off. "You misunderstand me, Harry. I am not talking about your parents, nor about the Dursleys. I am talking about."
Not much of a cliffie, I suppose, but it will do. Now be good little readers and review, or I shall be forced to hex you.
A/N- 'Ello, mates! This is my first fanfic, taking place in Harry & Co.'s sixth year, so be nice. For the purpose of this story, and because I absolutely refuse to accept his death, Sirius Black is alive and well. He, along with Remus Lupin (who, werewolf or not, society now accepts and doesn't care about him being a part-human) will come into the story later. I do not own anything seen in this story except for the plot and my own character (who will be introduced in the next chapter, should you choose to read it). Everything else is owned by J.K. Rowling; I am merely stea- *coughs -borrowing stuff for the time being. Enjoy!
~*~
Harry Potter sat down at the Gryffindor table with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. "Is there any oatmeal left?" he asked wearily. "Gee, nice greeting," Hermione replied sarcastically, looking up from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five. "Morning." he responded, while pointedly staring at the bowl of steaming hot oatmeal next to her plate. "All right, all right, I get it!" she rolled her eyes, passing him the bowl. "Wow, that's a first!" Ron exclaimed, then clutched his fork in defense as Hermione threateningly jabbed her knife in his direction. Harry grinned, glad to be back at Hogwarts and free from the Dursleys for yet another school year. Suddenly, Dean Thomas came up to them with their new schedules. "Harry, you're wanted in Dumbledore's office.don't ask me why, they just told me to tell you to come." Ron looked surprised. "Wow, we haven't done anything yet and he already wants you in his office.or did you do something stupid and not tell me about it?" Harry ignored him and packed his things into his bag, as breakfast was almost over. He wouldn't have time to come back for his things after seeing Dumbledore. "See you guys later." He called back as he walked out of the Great Hall. He, like Ron, wondered what he could have possibly done to be called down to Dumbledore's office so early in the school term.
~*~
He finally came to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance. His heart sank, remembering that the password changed frequently. The last one had been "cockroach cluster", but it had probably been changed since the last year. Knowing that many of Dumbledore's numerous passwords had been the names of his favorite candies, Harry began guessing popular wizarding brands. "Cauldron cakes?" No movement. "Chocolate frogs.er.Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?" Neither was successful. Fortunately, before long, Professor McGonagall showed up, saving him from hours of endless guessing. "I see you've received Professor Dumbledore's message. The password is "fizzing whizbees", by the way." As she spoke, the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the tunnel leading to the headmaster's office. Harry followed his Transfiguration professor through the winding passage, eventually coming to a door. Professor McGonagall lightly knocked on it, and, after hearing a weary voice call out, "Come in," opened it and stepped over the threshold. He followed her through the doorway, entering the circular office of Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore's eyes, after seeing Harry, lit up with what seemed to be a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Have a seat, Harry. There is an important matter that must be addressed immediately." Harry slowly sat down, his curious emerald eyes shifting their gaze between Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Dumbledore fixed his mystical gaze upon the teen in front of him. After a few moments, the old man sighed. "The time has come for me to tell you about your family." Harry was confused. Unfortunately, his parents were dead. They had been his only immediate family. Even more unfortunately, he lived with his last remaining relatives, the Dursleys. "But Professor," he began, but Dumbledore cut him off. "You misunderstand me, Harry. I am not talking about your parents, nor about the Dursleys. I am talking about."
Not much of a cliffie, I suppose, but it will do. Now be good little readers and review, or I shall be forced to hex you.
