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Chapter 1: A Mysterious Letter

The rain beat against the dormitory window. Harry lay in his bed as he listened to the hard, pounding rhythm. It was relaxing, but he still could not fall asleep. He closed his eyes, hoping that he might be able to drift into peace, if only for a minute. The rain continued to patter. Pit pat, pit pat. THUD.

Harry leaped up. What was that?? He looked around, but his roommates continued sleeping soundly. He peered outside, and noticed a strange, struggling object, attempting to get inside. The rain was obviously keeping it down. Harry immediately recognized what it was, and opened the window momentarily to let it in.

The brief explosion of wind and water didn't even cause a stir among his companions. Harry was thankful for this, because he would have a hard time explaining what he was doing in the middle of the night with his pajamas half soaked.

The object was a small, mahogany owl, with a letter tied to its leg. He ripped open the envelope, and read the small note scribbled inside:

Meet me by the willow at the next new moon.

It had no signature of whom it could be from and Harry didn't recognize the handwriting. The paper was perfectly dry, although it was pouring outside. Harry assumed whoever he/she was used the same charm Hermione used on his glasses once to keep the rain out at a Quidditch match.

The owl gave a weak hoot and fluttered its wings to rid itself of the rain that was dampening its feathers. Who could be sending him an owl at this time of night? As far as he knew, all the owls were at the Owlery, dry and sleeping, like he should be.

He stared at the paper again. Meet me by the willow at the next new moon. He peeped outside again, the moon was a slim silver crescent, dangling in the sky. He assumed what the author meant by willow to mean the Whomping Willow, but what could this person want, from him?

This was actually a very stupid thing to ask, because, after all, he was the famous Harry Potter. He still got strange looks and stares, (even though he was in his sixth year now), from his fellow peers. And there was that whole thing with Lord Voldemort wanting to kill him.

So what should he do?

His first impulse was to wake up Ron and Hermione and ask them for their opinions, but he knew they would tell him not to. He was still in danger, and he couldn't afford to do anything rash, but his curiosity nagged him to go the other way. He knew, from his many past experiences that he always ended up hurting someone when he tried to do what he wasn't supposed to. Was it worth the risk?

Yet he couldn't just pretend it never happened. Because it did, and he wanted to know what this person could want from him, and why they had to be so secretive. It had to be something important, urgent, even. Why else would they send an owl at night, when it was pouring?

He looked out the window again. The rain had slowed to a soft sprinkle. The owl gave a stronger hoot, gave Harry a gentle peck on his wrist, and flew out as Harry opened the window.

Harry watched the owl fly away, until he realized he had been staring into space for at least ten minutes. He folded the note and stuck it under his pillow. He had time; he would think more about it tomorrow. Right now, he needed some sleep.

Harry woke to Ron's shaking. "Harry! Get up!"

Harry rolled over. And buried his face into his pillow. Ron sighed, grabbed Harry's ankles and dragged him off the bed. "Come on mate! YOU HAVE TO GET UP!"

Harry grabbed his pillow as his frustrated friend yanked him onto the ground. His sheets flew off the bed, and tumbled on top of him. The note fluttered by Ron's feet.

"Hey...what's this?"

Ron kneeled down to pick it up, and opened it, but before he could read a word, Harry jumped up and snatched it away. "It's nothing!" He folded it up again, and stuck it in the drawer of his dresser.

Ron stared at Harry suspiciously. "If it's something private, all right, but don't have a cow. You know you can still talk about it with me and Hermione, you know."

"I'll be in the common room with Hermione if you, you know, want to talk or something. We brought you some breakfast. It's almost eleven, you know, we figured you're probably starving." He left Harry, both of them feeling flustered.

If Harry knew Ron, which he did, he would have heard the hurt in his voice. Well, it serves him right, meddling in other people's private businesses like that. Yet Harry knew very well that he should have told his friends. But...he sighed. I'll tell them right now.

He opened the drawer, and stuck the note in his pocket.


So... What can I improve on? (How is it for my first fanfic?) I'd love to hear from you... any comments, insults, etc., are all appreciated!

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