He was a bespectacled youth with unruly messy black hair who wore saffron-colored robes, and stood before a mountain. At his side, another tall wizard, clad in white robes, mumbled two words: 'Open Jadushala!' At those words, the mountain seemed to come alive-the solid stone in front of him folded inward to reveal an entrance.
The wizard walked in, followed closely by the boy. As the boy stepped over the threshold of the entrance, darkness suddenly descended all around. He felt a sensation similar to that of being pulled by a port key. He landed in a huge hall completely unknown to him.
Two men sat in the center of the hall, in what seemed to be thrones of solid gold. But for the flickering light cast by torches, which were held by men clad in dark black clothes standing around the throne in a semi-circle, the hall was dark. All of them had their hoods drawn so he couldn't see their faces. Each man in the semi-circle stood with head bowed in a symbol of submission.
Both the men on the throne commanded a large sense of dread, yet seemed to be equals. One stood up and a sharp pain immediately shot through his head. The torchlight flickered unto the scarred, snake-like ghastly face.
Voldemort. He looked more powerful than ever. A
dark mist seemed to surround him and everybody around him appeared to shrink
back with fear. The pain in his head became unbearable and the images shattered
as he sat upright in his bed.
It was a dream. He sweated profusely and his head throbbed with pain. He opened his eyes but his vision was blurred. He desperately felt around for his glasses, found them, and perched them on his nose.
He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. He, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Tri-Wizard Champion, the boy who defeated You-Know-Who, Godson of a convicted Mass-Murderer, the kid with the lightening scar, the subject of numerous news paper articles, the mini celebrity . . . felt fear. He had never seen Lord Voldemort so powerful. He could almost sense Voldemort's dark magic in his dream. The havoc You-know-Who had created at the Tri-Wizard tournament with only two faithful Death-Eaters and less then half his powers had still not sunk in yet.
The death of Cedric . . .
He shook off his thoughts. Harry didn't have the heart to think about him. In the past full week since he arrived at Privet Drive, that single last moment of Cedric's life consistently repeated in his dreams. Every time he dreamed of it, the cackle of Voldemort's laughter seemed to become louder and the Death of Cedric more cruel.
It was only today that he had had a different dream. Should I be relieved? he asked himself. No! I--I have to ask Professor Dumbledore . . . I don't want to repeat last year's mistake. Harry had not disclosed his dream to Dumbledore the year before, believing it would look like he was paranoid. And look at the trouble it got everyone into!
On the flipside, Harry now felt justified with being paranoid over the resurrection of Lord Voldemort. If it could help save somebody's life, he was not ashamed to admit the paranoia to anyone.
Sudden tapping from his window distracted him from his thoughts. He glanced over and saw it was Hedwig. He opened the window and let her in. She gave him a hoot and bit at his fingers affectionately. He gave her something to eat, then proceeded to untie the letter from her leg. It was from Sirius.
Dear Harry,
Hope you are alright. I wish I could let you stay with me. If those Muggles harass you, tell me and I will transfigure them into piglets. If you have any other problems (the scar hurting), write to Dumbledore. I have heard that he has thought up something for you.
As you know, we are working as the Headmaster. planned at the end of the Triwizard Cup, but that damned Minister Fudge is creating problems. However, don't you worry and start getting Ideas.
Harry did not think he liked how that last word was capitalized.
I am enclosing a gift for you. It is a family heirloom. Wear it at all times. It will keep you safe.
Gotta Hurry!
Keep Writing!
Love Snuffles
Harry peered inside the envelope and found a strange amulet. There was a single rune in it, surrounded by five stars. Below the rune there were two carved eyes, embedded with two green stones. It seemed to have been made of a strange dark black metal. There was a small chain of the same metal in the envelope, which he hung the amulet on and then looped around his arm.
He thought he saw the stones glow for second as the amulet throbbed with energy. What exactly had Sirius sent him? His scar stung again as the memory of the two men on the thrones flashed through his mind. After the pain receded, he dismissed the idea of seeing the stones glowing as aftereffects of the dream.
Maybe he was taking the paranoia too far. After all, his head still ached from the dream and Sirius would never send him something harmful.
I've got to tell somebody. Can't repeat last year's mistake, and Dumbledore must know about this dream. It might be important, he thought desperately.
He bent forward and dropped his head onto the palms of his hands. He stared numbly at his lap. It took a moment for him to rouse himself from the state of nothingness to realize he heard flapping wings. He looked up just in time to see a huge brown barn owl fly through his window. It circled over his head and dropped two things into his lap. With a loud hoot, it perched beside Hedwig. It stared at him expectedly.
Harry glanced quickly over the two things-a large packet and a letter addressed to him in Hermione's neat writing-before he stood up to give the barn owl an owl treat. As an afterthought, he pushed Hedwig's water dish to the barn owl and ignored the glare Hedwig gave him.
Harry walked back to his bed and sat down across it cross-legged. He proceeded to read Hermione's letter.
Hi Harry,
Dad agreed to get me an owl of my own. I named him Sage because of the specks on his underside. How is everything with the Dursleys? Professor Dumbledore certainly thinks you will be safer there. I do not know if the Dursleys feed you properly since you always look skinny, so I sent along some cakes.
I also continued last year's subscription to the Daily Prophet and sent you a few copies because I know you are completely cut off from the magical world too. Fudge still is not accepting that Voldemort has risen, and that stricter vigilance is required.
With love,
Hermione
PS- Don't forget to write back!
Harry looked at the parcel. A sense of relief filled him at the thought of Hermione's care. It did seem that the Dursleys did want to starve him to death, or at least hoped he would shrivel up into a bag of bones and die.
They knew nothing of his exploits in the magical world, and after his explosive departure from their home last year, they had decided to keep their distance from him rather make him keep his distance from them. It meant he was locked up in his room for a larger part of the day. Popping out of the window was a cardinal sin, which could invite very stringent punishments. All this had been made clear to Harry at the start of his stay at Privet Drive.
He was allowed to go out only after every two or three hours, but only if the Dursleys even remembered to let him out. Small amounts of food had been thrown in to his room thrice a day (if they remembered, because they conveniently forgot it at least once a day). He was deeply thankful for the complete solitude they granted him, but it also meant he was very lonely. Cedric's death had left a gaping hole of hurt inside, and the stares and snide comments at Hogwarts before he left for the summer had only deepened the wound. Since the Dursleys left him alone, he had only his thoughts for companions. In some ways, it only allowed Cedric's death to plague him because of the extra time, but in other ways, he had little to remind himself he was the Boy Wonder who was the reason for Cedric's death.
At the thought of Cedric, Harry curled up into a little ball on the bed and fought against the wave of pain that washed thought him. I don't know how long I can bear this. I can't do it for a full three months.
He tried to shake away the grief, and picked up Hermione's letter in the hopes that her friendly words would distract him. He scanned the words, and a new feeling--despairing puzzlement--filled him. Why does Dumbledore feel I'm safer here, in a Muggle colony in a Muggle house, with relatives who probably wouldn't mind if Voldemort killed me? The one bright spot of light in Harry's dismal thoughts was that Voldemort would probably kill the Dursleys for principle's sake rather than talk them into handing Harry over.
Harry shuddered at the thought. At least it seemed to Dumbledore and Sirius that Voldemort was unable to attack him at 4 Privet Drive. Perhaps they knew best. Of course they did, Harry decided. They were older than him, and had both fought against Voldemort in the last war.
But what made them so sure?
Harry turned his attention from Hermione's letter and the thoughts that accompanied it to the other roll of papers Sage had dropped. Harry picked up the roll. It was thick and heavy, being three issues of The Dailey Prophet. He unrolled and separated the issues, and read them one by one.
Muggles killed; dark mark returns!
PARIS
Staff reporter
Three Muggles were reportedly killed on Monday in Paris. More significantly, the dark mark was seen hovering above that house. It was glimpsed last summer during the World's Quidditch Cup, but had not been seen before that since the fall of You-Know- Who………………
Harry ignored the trembling in his arms and dryness of his throat as he dropped the paper and turned to the next issue.
Fudge Says Potter Fabricated Story
LONDON
Staff reporter
Minister Fudge spoke today that the story of You-Know-Who's return was fabricated. "It is the result of the fertile imagination of the minds of a few bored children," he told reporters. "Intelligence agencies have reported little to no increase in Death Eater activity. Young Mr Diggory may have been murdered by robbers who attempted to steal the TriWizard Tournament Cup. Ministry Aurors are investigating his unfortunate demise."
When questioned of why Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, would fabricate such a story, "As I said, he is a child. The fabrication may have been created for him to explain Diggory's death. But he is a celebrity of sorts, and this may be a plea for attention at Diggory's expense. Again, there is no worry of You-Know-Who. Regardless of Potter's story, Voldemort is dead and gone because of Potter in the first place."
Harry cringed at what he read, and switched to the last issue.
Harry Potter Has Attention-Seeking Disorders
"WHAT?" Harry choked with anger before he regained enough composition to resume what he was reading. "Of all the . . ."
By our special correspondent
Gilderoy Lockhart
Harry snorted. "Pot's calling the kettle black," he muttered darkly.
It is clear that Harry Potter is a boy plagued by an attention-seeking disorder. Bereaved of his parents at a very young age and destroying the most terrible Dark Lord the world as known. Potter lived a secluded life under the care of his Muggle relatives.
It is not easy to handle fame, as not everyone is an expert with it as yours truly. Potter was raised in a family that did not allow him to bask in his fame. When he began school in Hogwarts, he was encouraged to seek after more glory.
Harry suffered a severe disappointment from his childhood sweetheart, Hermione Granger, and a fight with his only friend Ron. This appears to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Perhaps in an attempt to get his friends back, Potter concocted a wild story of the return of You-Know-Who so the attention to be redirected back to himself. A super spy, such as myself, would surely know about You-Know-Who's return before the public.
It is obvious that my absence from Hogwarts in the past few years has created a gap in the boys upbringing, as he can only learn from a person as experienced as myself as to how one can handle fame……………………….
Harry bunched the paper up and threw it down in utter disgust. It was going to be a long year, and any change of it being different last year was destroyed before school even started.
