Harry Potter and the Alchemist's Draught
CHAPTER ONE
MAGIC IN LITTLE WHINGING
It was summer again in Privet Drive. The sun was shining high in the sky and not the tiniest trace of cloud blocked the hot beams of light that showered the neat, square houses of Privet drive.
Though it was broad daylight, there seemed not to be any sign of movement in the streets except for a skinny teenage boy with untidy hair and glasses who was walking up and down the empty streets, evidently not caring that his battered baggy T-shirt was becoming wet with his own sweat.
Although the Dursleys had been avoiding annoying him directly since his return from school, Harry Potter did not like staying home with them at all.
Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia continued to use their old policy with Harry, which depended basically on ignoring his existence, but they seemed to be trying not to get on the wrong side of him all the same. Aunt Petunia actually said nothing about the many owls that arrived at her surgically clean house almost every day, but she merely shot the birds nasty looks and hurtled to clean up the spots where they left some feathers or -occasionally- some droppings. She didn't even say anything to Harry when a tawny owl came swooping through the open window and knocked over the teapot to deliver a package to Harry who was watching the news on TV while she and uncle Vernon were having tea, but she merely gave a tiny yelp with an extreme look of revolting on her face. Harry found out later when he ripped open the package that bore The Ministry of Magic crest on it in his room upstairs that it contained a booklet titled: A guide to elementary home and personal defense which contained some instructions about basic safety measures and some basic defensive spells and how to perform them correctly which Harry considered a joke, as he himself could do those spells in his sleep. He merely watched the illustrated wizards in the booklet perform Shield Charms and Impediment Curses remembering bitterly the occasions on which he had used those spells himself.
Dudley, however, was avoiding Harry these days. After meeting Mr. Weasley, Moody, Tonks, and Lupin at King's Cross several days ago, he seemed to be terrified of what Harry's freaky friends could do to him if he upset Harry, having experienced before walking with a tail protruding from his back, and having his tongue trail several feet long in front of him.
Harry turned a corner into Magnolia Crescent, the place he didn't know these days whether he liked being in or not. He had once met his godfather, Sirius, here. He had thought then that the shaggy dog he had seen had been an ominous sign. He looked around, however, as though he was hoping to glimpse the shaggy dog once more, but he saw no sign of life in the street at all. Although everyone in the wizarding world knew now that Sirius Black was dead, Harry still refused to believe that he wasn't going to speak to his godfather again, he sometimes considered seriously going back to the Department of Mysteries at The Ministry of Magic and entering that room with the ancient archway and pulling back that black veil to find his godfather still waiting for him there.
As the summer before, this summer was almost eventless so far. The Daily Prophet didn't contain any important news about killings or disappearances, just some silly articles about people who claimed they had spotted Lord Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange in their backyards or marching up the streets by their houses. Harry thought that Voldemort was somehow affected by the absence of his best Death Eaters whom Harry helped landing in Azkaban, and although the wizard prison was now guarded by a large set of ferocious dragons and a bunch of the most powerful anti-break-out spells, Harry doubted that would keep Voldemort from rescuing his Death Eaters again.
Harry was walking up Magnolia road now, his face screwed up against the dazzling sunlight, he decided to inter the play park, which seemed to be alive with the voices of the playing children. He walked through the play park gates thinking dully about all the letters he was getting almost every day, most of them were from fans who expressed their admiration and approval, evidently having read the articles The Daily Prophet was now publishing that all seemed to describe Harry as a public hero. Few of the letters that arrived, however, were from his best friends at Hogwarts, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, it made him feel a bit better to know that Mr. Weasley was going to pick him up in August and take him to stay at the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys for the rest of the summer, but he felt a bit frustrated that he had to stay at the dursleys' till that date though he knew perfectly well now the reason he should spend some time at the Dursleys' every summer. One of the letters he received, however, was from someone he least expected to receive any letters from, Luna Lovegood, Ginny weasley's weird friend, but for some reason he found himself eager to read her letter that was basically about the search she and her father had been doing to catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in its natural homeland, Sweden.
Harry sat on a bench, looking up at the bright sky, he felt a bit drowsy. In fact, he had never slept very well since his return from school, for shortly after he had fell asleep every night, he woke with a start having seen a nightmare featuring Sirius going through that veil. He closed his eyes, the noise of the playing children in the park sounded more distant by the moment…he was back in that room with the stone benches and the dais on which stood that ancient cracked archway, Neville Longbottom's legs were jerking uncontrollably while he tugged on his robes to pull him up the stone steps…all signs of movement had stopped in the cavernous room except for a battling couple: Sirius, his beloved godfather, and Bellatrix Lestrange…Sirius ducked the spell Bellatrix had sent his way and, laughing, he said: "Come on, you can do better than that!", but the second spell hit him square in the chest…he was falling backward through the ragged veil. Harry yelled with all his might "SIRIUS, SIRIUS!" but this time it wasn't the end. He was alone now in the cavernous room, he looked around nervously and saw nobody at all, he stepped down the stone steps, walked toward the dais at the bottom of the room, stepped onto it, and was walking straight toward the ancient archway. The whispers were becoming louder with every step he made. He was now standing in front of the ragged veil, listening hard to the whispers coming from beyond, trying to make out the voice of his godfather. The veil was rippling gently as though in soft breeze, he had made up his mind; he stretched out his hand to pull the veil back….something hit him hard on his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw that he was still on the bench in the play park, but it was now dark and deserted except for a bunch of boys who were speaking loudly a good distance from Harry, he squinted at them and saw that they seemed to be huddled around something. He looked around and saw a soccer ball on the grass near him; he realized now what was the thing that had hit him on the forehead. He grasped the ball and strode toward the group intent to give them back their ball.
As Harry got closer to the group, he heard a familiar voice say: "Ickle Mark wants his ball back, doesn't he?", Harry recognized the huge silhouette of his cousin Dudley who was standing there with his gang, evidently unaware that they were being watched by Harry. They seemed to be grouping around a small boy and, as their favorite pastime was bullying and beating up little children, Harry was concerned about the little boy so, his hand on his waistband where his wand rested, he quickened his pace toward the group that did not seem to have the slightest notice of his approaching. Harry did not actually have any intention of using his wand against them as he had already suffered the consequences of doing magic in front of muggles. In fact, the very last summer, he had had to attend a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic because of a Patronus Charm he had done in the presence of his cousin Dudley to fend off a couple of dementors that had tried to suck his and his cousin's souls. He knew, all the same, how much his big cousin was terrified at the sight of that wooden wand, so he hoped he could luckily rescue the poor guy from Dudley and his thuggish gang without having to resort to magic.
As he was about 10 feet from them he heard Piers Polkiss -A scrawny boy with a face like a rat who was Dudley's best friend- say loudly: "I'll hold him for you, Big D-" but before Harry could even open his mouth to speak, something strange happened- Dudley and his gang all screamed in horror, their screams echoed around the deserted park, and every one of them streaked in different direction. As Dudley streaked past Harry, evidently oblivious to his presence, he passed through a patch of light that was coming from a lamp nearby and was illuminated so that Harry could see clearly why he was screaming in terror. Dudley was holding one hand to his face trying vainly to conceal the large ugly pustules that covered all his face now, a scene that reminded Harry forcibly of Marietta Edgecombe, Cho Chang's friend who had once tried to report the members of D.A to Professor Umbridge and had ended up with a set of ugly pustules forming the word "SNEAK" across her face. Harry was pretty sure that he didn't use any spell, and looking around nervously to see if anyone who could have been the source of Magic was around, he saw nobody at all but the little boy who was now walking calmly and steadily toward him.
The boy was younger than Harry, and seemed to be even smaller than Harry had been at his age. When he stepped into the patch of light that had illuminated Dudley's ugly pustules, the light fell upon him revealing smooth dirty-blond hair that, unlike Harry's, seemed to be very tidy, and emerald-green eyes just like Harry's own.
"Harry Potter," said the little boy earnestly, stretching out a hand toward Harry, "Mark Evans, pleased to meet you,"
The name seemed to stir something inside Harry, he suddenly remembered hearing his cousin Dudley and his gang boasting about beating up that new boy, Mark Evans, who had started showing up at the park last summer. He stretched out his hand and shook hands awkwardly with Mark without saying a word. Harry didn't have many friends outside Hogwarts as his uncle and aunt had told everyone in the neighborhood that he attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys in order to explain his absence every year to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in fact, he didn't have any friends at all, and more than that, nobody seemed to wish to be friends with him. "Perhaps he doesn't know exactly who I am," Harry told himself, "but then how is it he knows my name?" Harry didn't want to go back home, as he knew the Dursleys would be now panicking and wailing about what had happened to their beloved son who, apparently, had a knack of getting himself bewitched, and Harry doubted that their ignoring policy with him would continue if he showed up now, as they considered him to be the only source of anything unusual in the world.
"Excuse me but, do I know you?" said Harry tentatively observing the little boy closely. He felt that his face was strangely familiar. Mark looked a bit frustrated and looked down at his feet.
"Well, I must say I was expecting something like this, after all, my dear aunt doesn't like to talk about us very much," Said mark sadly, now looking straight into Harry's eyes.
"I don't-" Harry began, but Mark continued to speak before harry could finish his sentence.
"I'm your cousin, Harry," he finished gloomily.
Harry's stomach gave a horrible jolt, his heart was racing, could this be true? Could he really have another cousin apart from his huge dim-witted cousin Dudley, and he had never known about him?
"I arrived with my grandparents here in England only last summer, they thought I should spend some time here before I get my Hogwarts letter," Mark continued, still observing Harry.
Something suddenly seemed to dawn on Harry.
"You're a…." he began.
"I'm a wizard, yes Harry, I got my Hogwarts letter this morning, pitty my dear cousin Big D does not know that," said Mark with a grin on his face.
"But then you was the one who did Magic! You shouldn't have done that, I mean, not that Dudley and his gang don't deserve what they've got but I expect the Ministry of Magic'll be sending you a warning soon-"
"Not if it was accidental," said Mark, his grin widening, "you see I usually try to control my anger, but sometimes accidents do happen,"
Harry remembered vividly how he had once made his horrible aunt Marge swell like a balloon and hover in the air above his horrified Uncle and aunt before the Ministry of Magic had dispatched a number of trained wizards to deflate her. He suppressed a smile, and looked back at Mark.
"So, are you going to tell me about your parents?" Harry asked.
"They're dead," said Mark simply.
Harry felt a horrible surge of exasperation flow in his veins, he had thought for a glorious minute that he had found himself other relatives than the horrible Dursleys, relatives that did not consider the word "magic" to be a swearword, but now his dreams seemed to have shattered.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"It's all right, they died on duty when I was a baby, I don't remember either of them, I only have photos of them," said Mark shrugging.
"What did they do, anyway?" said Harry, trying to keep the conversation going.
"They were both Aurors, it is said that my dad -that's your uncle- John Evans was one of the greatest Aurors ever, he and my mum had been sent to many countries to capture escaped Death Eaters around the world especially after you-know-who had met his downfall, but Death Eaters got them in the end, they killed them while we were in Egypt, I was one year old then."
"But then why didn't you come back home till now?" asked Harry.
"My grandfather used to work for Gringotts' branch in Egypt, but he's got a job here now.", said Mark.
A few moments passed, in which Harry and Mark stared at each other in silence, then Mark said abruptly:
"Can I have my ball back, please?"
Harry became suddenly aware that he was still clutching the soccer ball that was the reason he didn't pull back that veil and see his godfather, Sirius, beaming at him from behind it. He handed Mark the ball.
"Now you shouldn't be playing muggle games, Mark," said Harry grinning.
"Why shouldn't I? I was raised with muggles in Egypt, I think they're fascinating!" said Mark beaming back at Harry.
Harry remembered somebody else who thought muggles were fascinating. Mr. Weasley, his best friend Ron's father had always shown respect and liking to muggles. He remembered that he was to go to the burrow in August and wished time could elapse faster until that date. At least he had now a friend who knew about the wizarding world to chat with while he was at Privet Drive.
"Well, I'll have to go now Harry, I don't even live in Little Whinging-" Mark began.
"You don't live here?" said Harry goggling at him as though this was a sick joke.
"But you come to the neighborhood too often, I've always heard Dudley say-"
"Yes, I've actually come here several times last summer hoping to see you, Harry," said Mark.
"Me?" said Harry astonished.
"Yes you, Harry, I've been hearing a lot about your encounters with you-know-who since your first year at Hogwarts. Luckily today I managed to see you at last,"
Harry felt a sudden pang, he remembered the aftermath of those encounters; two people who had died because of his own stupidity: Cedric Diggory, and his godfather, Sirius Black.
"Well, I'll be seeing you then," Harry mumbled.
"Bye Harry," said Mark joyfully, and he turned around and strode away leaving Harry standing there alone in the gloominess.
Harry traipsed through the dark and deserted park and, devoid of magic, he vaulted over the locked gate and headed back to number 4, Privet Drive.
When he arrived, however, he found that the lights were all on in the house, and the monstrous silhouette of uncle Vernon loomed up in front of the front door.
"What happened, boy?" spat uncle Vernon the moment Harry was within earshot.
"Why don't you ask Dudley?" replied Harry, trying to sound casual.
Uncle Vernon swelled ominously, his face was becoming a deep shade of puce, and the familiar vein in his temple was throbbing dangerously.
"Don't play games with me boy, answer my question!" he blustered, spraying Harry with a shower of spit.
"I didn't do magic, you know I wouldn't, Otherwise I'd be expelled immediately!" Harry replied in a would-be casual voice.
Uncle Vernon looked around nervously, evidently to see if somebody was eavesdropping, then looked back at Harry with an expression of utmost disgust on his large purple face.
"I've warned you before boy-" he said in a very low whisper that Harry actually had to lean forward to hear what he was saying, "-not to mention your abnormality in my house!"
"Get in," he said grabbing Harry tight with one of his enormous hands and dragging him inside the house.
When Harry entered the living room, he found that Dudley, still looking appalled, was sitting on the couch. Aunt Petunia was sitting next to him with one of her bony hands on his shoulder. Dudley shuddered slightly at the sight of Harry and leaned closer to his mother. Harry noticed that Dudley's face was now pustule-free.
"I see nothing wrong with him," Harry gestured toward Dudley.
"Your lot have been here," snapped Uncle Vernon, glaring at Harry.
"Why do you care what happened if everything's alright now?" said Harry, still trying as hard as he could to sound casual.
"It was you boy, I know it was you!" spat uncle Vernon. "Nobody could possibly have done…you-know-what in the neighborhood except you!"
"Oh yeah? I suppose ickle Diddykins didn't tell you who he and his gang have been trying to beat up tonight, did he?" said Harry angrily abandoning the casual voice.
"What are you talking about, boy? Dudley's been out to have tea with his friend, Malcolm!" snarled uncle Vernon.
"They've been trying to beat up Mark Evans," Harry finished as though he didn't hear what uncle Vernon had just said.
The name seemed to have struck aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon dumb; aunt Petunia was gazing horror-struck at Harry as though he had just uttered a most revolting swearword, uncle Vernon looked as though something very heavy had just hit him on the head. Dudley, however, was now shaking uncontrollably, as though his parents' reactions made him feel much worse about what he had done. When he spoke again, the words came in a feeble squeak.
"Liar," he squeaked. "He's a liar,"
Aunt petunia was on her feet now, she was looking transfixed at Harry.
"You're lying, boy," she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
"He's…he's not in town!"
"He came back last summer with his grandparents," said Harry calmly.
More silent moments passed, in which uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia seemed to be deep in thought. Harry felt something odd going on inside him, he struggled with himself for a moment then said in a voice that rang in the gloomy silence:
"Why do you dread us that much?"
He almost immediately regretted it, for aunt Petunia was looking so livid now, and uncle Vernon's large face seemed to swell even more, it was becoming an ugly shade of puce again, and his mustache bristled, which was always a dangerous sign.
"Your lot are nutters! I shouldn't have let you go to that freaky school in first place!" snarled uncle Vernon, an insane look in his eyes.
"You couldn't have stopped me from going to that freaky school," Harry retorted.
But things were going from bad to worse, uncle Vernon's nostrils flared, his temples were throbbing wildly. He stretched out an enormous hand and grabbed the neck of Harry's baggy threadbare T-shirt.
"But I can stop you from causing more trouble in this house!" spat uncle Vernon, the insane look was now more pronounced than ever in his beady eyes.
"I don't care what your lot have told me, boy! You shall not stay another moment in my house! Out, OUT! -"
But at this precise moment, something odd happened. Uncle Vernon let go of Harry with a yelp as though he had just received an electric shock, and then, almost instantly, a barn owl came swooping through the open window with a scarlet envelope in its beak that Harry immediately recognized as a Howler. The owl dropped the Howler precisely over uncle Vernon's head, who ducked immediately as though dodging a grenade.
Harry was about to open his mouth to advise uncle Vernon to open the envelope, now lying on the floor, when aunt Petunia spoke.
"Open it, Vernon," she said in a trembling voice, eyeing the envelope fearfully.
Perhaps it was the fact that the Dursleys had suffered last summer the consequences of not opening a Howler soon enough that made uncle Vernon pick up the scarlet envelope and open it very gingerly.
The moment that he did so, Mad-eye Moody's oddly magnified voice echoed in the living room.
"DURSLEY, YOU SCUM! I THOUGHT I'VE WARNED YOU NOT TO MISTREAT HARRY! I'LL CONSIDER THIS HOWLER AS A LAST WARNING, BUT I SWEAR IF YOU EVER THINK ABOUT MAKING ANOTHER FOOLISH BEHAVIOR, YOU'LL SPEND THE REST OF YOUR DAYS REGRETTING IT!"
The envelope, having dropped from uncle Vernon's shaking large purple hands, burst into flames, and curled into ash on aunt Petunia's surgically clean floor.
There was a ringing silence in which uncle Vernon seemed to be very furious but didn't utter a single word, and aunt petunia looked paler than ever with an expression of extreme horror on her face. Dudley, however, looked as though he was going to cry. Then Harry spoke.
"Well, I'll be in my room." He said quietly, and without further ado, he turned around, strode toward the stairs and, feeling that all eyes were upon him, he started climbing upstairs toward his room; each step he took echoing in the shocked silence.