cHAPTER oNE - tHE dARK mARK
It was the dead of night, and not a sound could be heard from Privet Drive except a scratching of a quill in the bedroom of a sixteen year old boy. Harry Potter couldn't keep in all of his emotions and decided to confide in his best friend, Ron Weasley.
Dear Ron, My life is absolutely sucky. The Dursleys are acting like I'm some sort of leper. I don't know how I can deal without Sirius. I mean, I have you and Hermione, but it's not the same, you know? He was always there for me when I needed him, and he could help me out with all of my problems. Why do all the bad things have to happen to me? I already had to lose my mum and dad, who I found out is a complete jackass. Voldemort's back (and don't flinch at seeing his name, you've seen him in person, you have to call him by name now.) and all the Death Eaters are after me (at least the ones who haven't been put in Azkaban). Please tell me when I can come visit and give me updates on the Order. I'm sorry for being such a burden, but you're my best friend and I know you're always there for me. I hope everyone's okay and that your dad is all better. -Harry
Harry put the letter in an envelope and sealed it. He crept over to his owl Hedwig. "Send this to Ron, okay?" She hooted contently and glided out the window. Almost immediately after Hedwig left, a large spotted owl flew in with a pink envelope that smelled of perfume. Harry cautiously opened it. It contained a letter with very loopy, girlish writing.
Dear Harry, I do hope you're well. I again want to express my sorrow for what happened to your godfather. The Quibbler is going to write an article about him, telling that he was a great man. We would love to have your input. I don't have much to say, as we didn't get to know each other too well last year. I hope that this year we can spend more time together and become friends. Sincerely, Luna Lovegood
"Luna?" said Harry in a very confused matter, though he was happy all the same. It was always nice to get letters from people. He looked at his small pile of letters on his bedside table. He guessed that people didn't write to him much because they didn't know what to say, or they thought he would be grieving too much to write back. Harry peered out the window as a sort of habit. He was always cautious (not afraid) that another Dementor would come to Privet Drive. His scar burst with pain, which he thought nothing of because Lord Voldemort had returned to full power. But then a very strange thing happened. A shrill, bone-chilling scream was ringing in his ears, and he was sure he saw a blast of green light. He looked out the window, and saw something that was to be feared by all wizards- the dark mark. And it was hovering over Mrs. Figg's house. Harry gulped. Surely the Death Eaters weren't here on Privet Drive? Surely Dumbledore would have called for extra protection after recent events, wouldn't he?
The night got the best of him, and Harry then fell into an uneasy sleep.
"We have done it my lord," said a very high, squeaky voice. "She has b-b- been disposed of, sir." A voice chuckled. It was a hard, cold voice. "Very well, Wormtail. I am gracious for your support. Which of our lovely death eaters committed this wonderful act?" "Er-I-I did it, my lord. I did it." At this, the man stood up straighter. "Ahh, did you? I will have to reward you for this. Now, we are one step closer to killing Harry Potter. Next, we must kill the one at Hogwarts. He is the only one who can stop us from getting to Potter at the moment. It will be difficult, but I will manage to get him."
Harry awoke with a blasting pain in his scar and a poke in the stomach. Dudley was hovering over Harry, his eyes malicious. "So?" he taunted. "What do you want, Dudley?" said Harry through gritted teeth. "Who's Luna?" Dudley grinned. "Ahh, ickle Harry's got a girlfriend." "Shut up." "I hope that this year we can spend more time together and become friends," taunted Dudley. "Well, isn't that sweet." His eyes were brimming with tears of laughter now. Too bad your girlfriend doesn't realize what a pathetic dork you are." Harry had never wanted to hurt anyone more in his life. "She's not my girlfriend, but at least I could get one if I wanted to, you fat piece of---" "HARRY POTTER!" yelled Uncle Vernon. "COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT!" Harry gulped. His legs felt like lead as he traveled down the steps. Uncle Vernon looked very solemn and Aunt Petunia was unmistakably- no, she couldn't have been, crying? She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and sighed, her eyes swollen and red. "W-what's going on?" asked Harry. Aunt Petunia cried harder. Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "Mrs. Figg was killed last night. T-there (Was Uncle Vernon actually stuttering?) was some sort of green thing hovering above her house. Did this have anything to do with YOUR crowd?" Harry was in disbelief. Mrs. Figg, dead? Why would Voldemort want to kill Mrs. Figg? "I think so. Did it look like a skull with--" "A snake?" continued Uncle Vernon. "So it WAS something to do with your crowd." "Yeah," muttered Harry, still in disbelief. "It's called the Dark Mark. You know, Voldemort's sign." "He's that evil bloke that killed your parents, right?" "Yes," said Harry. He didn't know how Uncle Vernon could be so sensitive and insensitive at the same time. "She wasn't-one of you, was she?" "No. not exactly," said Harry. Aunt Petunia continued to cry. "I-I-I was just over there for tea yesterday! S-she invited us over for dinner tomorrow night, and--" An owl suddenly flew in through the window. Addressed to Harry, he opened it.
Harry- We just heard about your neighbor, and we're coming to get you immediately. Pack up quickly and make sure your fireplace is unblocked. -Molly Weasley
"Er- Uncle Vernon? Remember Mrs. Weasley? She's coming to get me, I don't know why, but we have to make sure the fireplace is unblocked." Harry hoped that if he said this very fast, Uncle Vernon wouldn't get as angry. "Fine- go off then," muttered Uncle Vernon. That was too easy, Harry thought. He turned around to find Uncle Vernon consoling Aunt Petunia. This had possibly been the weirdest day of his life.
It was the dead of night, and not a sound could be heard from Privet Drive except a scratching of a quill in the bedroom of a sixteen year old boy. Harry Potter couldn't keep in all of his emotions and decided to confide in his best friend, Ron Weasley.
Dear Ron, My life is absolutely sucky. The Dursleys are acting like I'm some sort of leper. I don't know how I can deal without Sirius. I mean, I have you and Hermione, but it's not the same, you know? He was always there for me when I needed him, and he could help me out with all of my problems. Why do all the bad things have to happen to me? I already had to lose my mum and dad, who I found out is a complete jackass. Voldemort's back (and don't flinch at seeing his name, you've seen him in person, you have to call him by name now.) and all the Death Eaters are after me (at least the ones who haven't been put in Azkaban). Please tell me when I can come visit and give me updates on the Order. I'm sorry for being such a burden, but you're my best friend and I know you're always there for me. I hope everyone's okay and that your dad is all better. -Harry
Harry put the letter in an envelope and sealed it. He crept over to his owl Hedwig. "Send this to Ron, okay?" She hooted contently and glided out the window. Almost immediately after Hedwig left, a large spotted owl flew in with a pink envelope that smelled of perfume. Harry cautiously opened it. It contained a letter with very loopy, girlish writing.
Dear Harry, I do hope you're well. I again want to express my sorrow for what happened to your godfather. The Quibbler is going to write an article about him, telling that he was a great man. We would love to have your input. I don't have much to say, as we didn't get to know each other too well last year. I hope that this year we can spend more time together and become friends. Sincerely, Luna Lovegood
"Luna?" said Harry in a very confused matter, though he was happy all the same. It was always nice to get letters from people. He looked at his small pile of letters on his bedside table. He guessed that people didn't write to him much because they didn't know what to say, or they thought he would be grieving too much to write back. Harry peered out the window as a sort of habit. He was always cautious (not afraid) that another Dementor would come to Privet Drive. His scar burst with pain, which he thought nothing of because Lord Voldemort had returned to full power. But then a very strange thing happened. A shrill, bone-chilling scream was ringing in his ears, and he was sure he saw a blast of green light. He looked out the window, and saw something that was to be feared by all wizards- the dark mark. And it was hovering over Mrs. Figg's house. Harry gulped. Surely the Death Eaters weren't here on Privet Drive? Surely Dumbledore would have called for extra protection after recent events, wouldn't he?
The night got the best of him, and Harry then fell into an uneasy sleep.
"We have done it my lord," said a very high, squeaky voice. "She has b-b- been disposed of, sir." A voice chuckled. It was a hard, cold voice. "Very well, Wormtail. I am gracious for your support. Which of our lovely death eaters committed this wonderful act?" "Er-I-I did it, my lord. I did it." At this, the man stood up straighter. "Ahh, did you? I will have to reward you for this. Now, we are one step closer to killing Harry Potter. Next, we must kill the one at Hogwarts. He is the only one who can stop us from getting to Potter at the moment. It will be difficult, but I will manage to get him."
Harry awoke with a blasting pain in his scar and a poke in the stomach. Dudley was hovering over Harry, his eyes malicious. "So?" he taunted. "What do you want, Dudley?" said Harry through gritted teeth. "Who's Luna?" Dudley grinned. "Ahh, ickle Harry's got a girlfriend." "Shut up." "I hope that this year we can spend more time together and become friends," taunted Dudley. "Well, isn't that sweet." His eyes were brimming with tears of laughter now. Too bad your girlfriend doesn't realize what a pathetic dork you are." Harry had never wanted to hurt anyone more in his life. "She's not my girlfriend, but at least I could get one if I wanted to, you fat piece of---" "HARRY POTTER!" yelled Uncle Vernon. "COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT!" Harry gulped. His legs felt like lead as he traveled down the steps. Uncle Vernon looked very solemn and Aunt Petunia was unmistakably- no, she couldn't have been, crying? She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and sighed, her eyes swollen and red. "W-what's going on?" asked Harry. Aunt Petunia cried harder. Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "Mrs. Figg was killed last night. T-there (Was Uncle Vernon actually stuttering?) was some sort of green thing hovering above her house. Did this have anything to do with YOUR crowd?" Harry was in disbelief. Mrs. Figg, dead? Why would Voldemort want to kill Mrs. Figg? "I think so. Did it look like a skull with--" "A snake?" continued Uncle Vernon. "So it WAS something to do with your crowd." "Yeah," muttered Harry, still in disbelief. "It's called the Dark Mark. You know, Voldemort's sign." "He's that evil bloke that killed your parents, right?" "Yes," said Harry. He didn't know how Uncle Vernon could be so sensitive and insensitive at the same time. "She wasn't-one of you, was she?" "No. not exactly," said Harry. Aunt Petunia continued to cry. "I-I-I was just over there for tea yesterday! S-she invited us over for dinner tomorrow night, and--" An owl suddenly flew in through the window. Addressed to Harry, he opened it.
Harry- We just heard about your neighbor, and we're coming to get you immediately. Pack up quickly and make sure your fireplace is unblocked. -Molly Weasley
"Er- Uncle Vernon? Remember Mrs. Weasley? She's coming to get me, I don't know why, but we have to make sure the fireplace is unblocked." Harry hoped that if he said this very fast, Uncle Vernon wouldn't get as angry. "Fine- go off then," muttered Uncle Vernon. That was too easy, Harry thought. He turned around to find Uncle Vernon consoling Aunt Petunia. This had possibly been the weirdest day of his life.