It was turning out to be an unusually hot summer at number four privet
drive. Harry was still exhausted from a thoroughly exciting, if not
perilous school year, which ended less than two weeks ago. The heat only
made matters worse; Harry lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, trying not
to move in an effort to keep cool. Then sun was still beating down as the
Dursleys sat down to dinner, without Harry.
Harry was no longer the scrawny kid-wizard he was at age 11, when he was first relieved of the Dursleys and sent to Hogwarts School, he was nearly 16, and in most regards, a man. Although he was still slim, like his father, Harry had grown into an impressive figure of a young wizard, wide shoulders and a handsome jawline seemed to contrast nicely to his brilliant green eyes, inherited from his mother. Harry's hair, however, remain as random and untidy as ever he could recall, it was his trademark, perhaps moreso than his lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Aside from growing up, Harry had cast of all signs of awkwardness about being a wizard. His bedroom, albeit small, was a virtual museum of wizarding memorabilia and mementoes from his past years. A collection of books to voluminous to fit in a truck now occupied a recently- added bookshelf beside his bed. His photo collection had grown to include a group photo of the original Order of the Phoenix, as well as the clipping from the Daily Prophet from the day Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, which was tacked up beside a rather solemn portrait of Sirius taken at the Potters' wedding, all those years ago.
Harry sighed as he thought of Sirius who had so gallantly died rescuing Harry and his friends from an otherwise-certain death at the hands of the Death Eaters. Just then Harry heard something rustling outside, he propped himself up to look out the open window. Headwig glided elegantly into the open window and perched herself on the wordrobe across the room from Harry's bed, a sealed envelope in her beak.
"What have you got there, girl?" Harry asked eagerly, half expecting a verbal reply. Headwig dropped the envolope into Harry's open hand. The outside was addressed to Vernon Dursley, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. He flipped it over to view the seal of the Ministry of Magic. Harry disregarded the seal and opened the letter, clearly not intended for him, from a high-quality sheet of parchment he read:
Dear Mr. Dursley, It is with great honor that I write to inform you that Harry Potter has passed all of his exams to earn the qualification of Ordinary Wizarding Level. Aside from a difficult feat of both academic and performance fortitude, the OWL qualifies Harry to perform magic by his own will, year round, without supervision by school professors or ministry officials. You should be very proud. Sincerely, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic
A grin shot across Harry's face as he searched the room for someone to see it.
"Headwig, do you see this?" he asked redundantly, after all, she delivered it. Headwig nodded her head, somehow sarcastically.
Harry folder the bit of parchment and stuff it back in the envelope. He flipped it over and reached for his wand, which sat on his desk. Harry, now in a fit of happy nerves, swirled his wand in the air for a minute before pointing it at the back of the letter. He inhaled to calm himself.
"reparo" he muttered in a sigh of relief. The ministry seal magically melted itself back to the envelope as if it had never been opened. Harry wiped the sweat off his foreheard and rushed downstairs to where the Dursleys were finishing their dinner, and Dudley was working on an after- dinner sandwich.
"Uncle Vernon" Harry interrupted as Vernon and Petunia spat a shocked look in his direction. Dudley was strictly focused on his sandwich with occasional glances at the television on the counter, playing an old re-run of "Chef".
"What is it?" snapped Uncle Vernon in an insulted tone of voice.
"An owl, I mean, a letter just came for you. I think you should open it right away, looks important" Harry smirked as he handed the letter to Uncle Vernon, who made no effort to stand up, having just ate a full Dursley- sized meal.
Harry was no longer the scrawny kid-wizard he was at age 11, when he was first relieved of the Dursleys and sent to Hogwarts School, he was nearly 16, and in most regards, a man. Although he was still slim, like his father, Harry had grown into an impressive figure of a young wizard, wide shoulders and a handsome jawline seemed to contrast nicely to his brilliant green eyes, inherited from his mother. Harry's hair, however, remain as random and untidy as ever he could recall, it was his trademark, perhaps moreso than his lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Aside from growing up, Harry had cast of all signs of awkwardness about being a wizard. His bedroom, albeit small, was a virtual museum of wizarding memorabilia and mementoes from his past years. A collection of books to voluminous to fit in a truck now occupied a recently- added bookshelf beside his bed. His photo collection had grown to include a group photo of the original Order of the Phoenix, as well as the clipping from the Daily Prophet from the day Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, which was tacked up beside a rather solemn portrait of Sirius taken at the Potters' wedding, all those years ago.
Harry sighed as he thought of Sirius who had so gallantly died rescuing Harry and his friends from an otherwise-certain death at the hands of the Death Eaters. Just then Harry heard something rustling outside, he propped himself up to look out the open window. Headwig glided elegantly into the open window and perched herself on the wordrobe across the room from Harry's bed, a sealed envelope in her beak.
"What have you got there, girl?" Harry asked eagerly, half expecting a verbal reply. Headwig dropped the envolope into Harry's open hand. The outside was addressed to Vernon Dursley, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. He flipped it over to view the seal of the Ministry of Magic. Harry disregarded the seal and opened the letter, clearly not intended for him, from a high-quality sheet of parchment he read:
Dear Mr. Dursley, It is with great honor that I write to inform you that Harry Potter has passed all of his exams to earn the qualification of Ordinary Wizarding Level. Aside from a difficult feat of both academic and performance fortitude, the OWL qualifies Harry to perform magic by his own will, year round, without supervision by school professors or ministry officials. You should be very proud. Sincerely, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic
A grin shot across Harry's face as he searched the room for someone to see it.
"Headwig, do you see this?" he asked redundantly, after all, she delivered it. Headwig nodded her head, somehow sarcastically.
Harry folder the bit of parchment and stuff it back in the envelope. He flipped it over and reached for his wand, which sat on his desk. Harry, now in a fit of happy nerves, swirled his wand in the air for a minute before pointing it at the back of the letter. He inhaled to calm himself.
"reparo" he muttered in a sigh of relief. The ministry seal magically melted itself back to the envelope as if it had never been opened. Harry wiped the sweat off his foreheard and rushed downstairs to where the Dursleys were finishing their dinner, and Dudley was working on an after- dinner sandwich.
"Uncle Vernon" Harry interrupted as Vernon and Petunia spat a shocked look in his direction. Dudley was strictly focused on his sandwich with occasional glances at the television on the counter, playing an old re-run of "Chef".
"What is it?" snapped Uncle Vernon in an insulted tone of voice.
"An owl, I mean, a letter just came for you. I think you should open it right away, looks important" Harry smirked as he handed the letter to Uncle Vernon, who made no effort to stand up, having just ate a full Dursley- sized meal.