The Blue Man
The streets were quiet, far too quiet. It was London eight o'clock in the evening. And the streets were empty. Only one man walked through the city. The air was tight and the atmosphere was creepy. The man was dying to go home but he had to get to the pharmacy for his son's medicine. He was very afraid of the atmosphere but he couldn't leave his son in need.
The air rippled around the man and he shook.
The man was Arthur White and he was slowly walking through London he was terrified. The air around him was growing tight and the wind was whipping past his face. He felt his cheek, it was bleeding. He took out a damp handkerchief and mopped his face up of sweat and blood. He rubbed his hands and they too were bleeding. The wind was so sharp it was piercing his skin!
He began to move faster and kept rubbing his hands. The wind grew sharper and tighter and before long he was gasping for breath. He felt his throat gingerly and fell to his knees. Just then the air just a few yards in front of Arthur began to twist and shape. It spun around and turned a bright blue colour. Arthur would have gasped if there were any air! The air continued to twist and wind until it formed a bright blue vortex. Out of the vortex strolled a tall man dressed in purple robes and a purple turban.
The man smiled and took out a long black stick from inside his robes. He then pointed the stick at Arthur and muttered a few words. Nothing happened. The man scowled and marched towards Arthur. The man reached down to grab Arthur but the man's hand just passed right through Arthur's head. Then the man screamed and a second flash of blue light pulled the man back through the portal.
Arthur groaned and collapsed. His face bright blue from lack of oxygen. He was very much dead.
Harry Potter awoke with a start. His face sweating and his scar hurting. He slowly sat up in his bed and reached over and fumbled for his glasses. He shoved them roughly onto his face and rubbed his scar, it continued to sting. He grimaced and slid off his bed. He slowly got to his feet and then went over to his desk to write to Sirius. As he sat there scribbling down his dream he wondered if he was doing the right thing writing to Sirius and all. Sure Sirius had asked to write to him but what kind of letter revolved around him having a dream about a man in a blue light? A man with green?………No he'd had purple robes and a large purple turban……………Harry almost fell off his chair in shock. The man had been his ex-defence against the dark arts teacher Professor Quirrell! This proved to Harry that it had been a dream and nothing more. It was impossible for Quirrell to be able to come back! He was dead. Even Dumbledore himself had said himself that no spell could reawaken the dead. Harry scrunched up the letter and threw it onto the floor then he got up and left his room.
It was still quite dark outside when Harry got downstairs. Harry Potter was a strange boy in many aspects. His had a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead, He hated the summer holidays and the strangest of all was that Harry Potter was a wizard! For most of the year Harry went to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry but every summer he was forced to stay with his loathsome aunt, uncle and cousin the Dursley's. As Harry sat down at the breakfast table he noticed his uncle sprawled out on a chair fast asleep. Harry grinned as he remember the fight Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had had last night. Not surprisingly Harry was the cause of the argument. Uncle Vernon had been very angry over Aunt Petunia accepting Harry back into the house after he had blown up his sister to three times her size last summer. And Aunt petunia was very angry that he thought of it as his house. Then it all kicked off. Aunt petunia blaming Uncle Vernon for Dudley's extreme weight gain, and Uncle Vernon blaming Aunt Petunia for being related to Harry. Although this had been very loud and Dudley had joined in at one point. Harry guessed that it would probably improve life for him at the Dursley's from now on. Since Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon couldn't decide who they hated more each other or Harry.
Harry pulled out a packet of cornflakes from underneath the counter and poured it into the bowl. He added the milk and a spoon and began to munch away. Muggle cereals always tasted strange to Harry. After having "Pixie And Sugar O's"
For a year at Hogwarts. As Harry ate he began to think about his dream and the two-month wait until he went back to Hogwarts. Harry groaned and dropped his spoon in the remaining drops of milk.
Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend, had promised to invite him to the Quidditch World Cup with his family in the summer. But as of yet Harry had had no news. Still it was only the second day of the summer. Harry got up and walked back upstairs into his tiny bedroom. He was tempted to slam the door but resisted the temptation and closed it quietly. He plonked down onto his bed and pulled out his wand from under his pillow. Harry squeezed it and a cloudy mist flew out of the tip. Harry was bored stiff. He got up looked out the window and wondered how long would he have to wait?
Far away in Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall sat uncomfortably at her desk scribbling down reports for Dumbledore. They were due tomorrow but after all the Sirius Black buisness the school had had that year she'd been unable to finish them. She had been there since term ended and was finally nearing the end of them. As she sat there writing away she failed to notice a blue spiral open behind her. It glimmered and shook before Ex-Hogwarts teacher Qurinus Qurriell wandered out. He saw McGonagall and glared at her. He slowly crept forward and held his hand out to her head. His hand went into her head and she instantly stopped writing. He hands fell limply by her sides and her eyes glowed blue. Qurriell laughed and slowly faded into Mcgonagall's body.