CHAPTER 1 - ON THE CONTRARY
Harry Potter flopped himself on his bed in disbelief, eyes surveying a tremendous pile of packages that lie just feet from his bed. On particularly large one seemed to have had trouble fitting through the door, as its bow was rather mangled and bright green and blue packaging slightly gnarled.
Warily, he picked up the tag of one of the smaller ones. 'To Harry, From Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon'
He sighed, pushing back the bow to reveal a rather expensive portable CD player. He should have known. Counting, there were ten presents in all, discluding two rather angered owls standing outside his bedroom window, hooting madly.
He opened the window and two packages, one letter plopped on his bed. The owls took a nibble at Hedwig's treats and once again took flight. Harry turned his attention to the three packages (which were considerably smaller than those at the bottom of his bed) and opened the first, not bothering to read the card. He could tell by the messy wrap job that Ron Weasley, one of two of his best friends, had sent him it. Opening it revealed a cake, which flopped onto the bed, and a book, The Encyclopedia of Broom Models, by Vitale Etoile. A note drifted to the floor between Harry's feet, and he grabbed it rather suddenly.
Harry,
Happy Birthday! It's Ron, by the way (I knew you wouldn't read the tag...blimey, I'm good, eh?) Thought you might enjoy seeing what your Firebolt could easily leave in the...err...dust.
Hermione's here, but Dad says you're best off staying where you are for a couple of days. Mum's nearly had kittens insisting that you're safer off with us, but Dad says to wait. I think Hermione said something about meeting up in her letter, so I'm not going to bore you.
-Ron
At this, Harry promptly ripped open Hermione's package-the neat and tidy one-to find a new potions set consisting of a few more interesting ingredients than were in his general set. As well, there was a note.
Harry!
Hope you enjoy this set...might make Snape a bit more easy to bear. You have to go to Diagon Alley, don't you? Ron and I both need to...Fred and George got a hold of our Prefect Badges and now they have an arrow and the words 'I'm with stupid'. It's somehow bewitched to change when a prefect stands nearby and the arrow will point at them. Nothing works to get it off, either.
What's say we meet at the Gringotts entrance hall at 2:30 on August 1st? Your aunt and uncle can't be too mad, since the Order of the Pheonix gave them a nice talking to. Good luck on your OWL results, by the way!
-Hermione
Harry's head snapped to the letter that still lay on his bed. The fuschia ink shone. He ripped it open and two papers toppled out, not to mention numerous medallions and a very small badge that named him Quidditch Captain. He read the first letter, which consisted mainly of things he'd need for the semester and a reminder that although he was not a Prefect he would still be eligible to be Head Boy and not to let his marks fall because of this. The second paper was exactly what he was looking for.
'5TH YEAR ORDINARY WIZARDING TEST POTTER, HARRY
TRANSFIGURATION: exceeds expectations
CHARMS: outstanding
POTIONS: below average'
Harry snorted, no surprise there.
'HERBOLOGY: exceeds expectations
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: average-satisfactory
HISTORY OF MAGIC: exceeds expectations
ASTRONOMY: average
DIVINATION: below average
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: beyond outstanding'
Gawping at the letter, Harry reread. Beyond outstanding. Hermione probably couldn't beat that. He grinned and then laughed at his Divination mark-to be frank, he wasn't at all concerned. He opened his closet to his Quidditch robes, on which he pinned the bright new Quidditch Captain badge. He closed the cupboard and then surveyed his numerous medallions, which turned out to be the certifications of his OWL marks, to keep with him much like a degree. He put them in a small box in the closet and walked out the door.
The cat flap was still on his door from the second year, but Aunt Petunia had been using it to shove Mars Bars and Smarties at any time of the day. She insisted on serving Harry more to the sheer awe of Uncle Vernon ('You missed Dudley's plate, Petunia.') and Dudley ('What in bloody hell do you think you're doing, mum?') Since Moody's chat with her, she had been treating Harry as if he was some sort of precious object to her, much like the bottle of window cleaner that she carried everywhere.
The morning passed quite lazily, and Harry opened the rest of his presents, which consisted of Muggle items that he enjoyed nonetheless. Aunt Petunia insisted on being overjoyed with Harry's marks on OWLs and probably would have placed them on the refridgerator next to Dudley's numerous Es if Uncle Vernon hadn't started yelling loudly about how nosey the neighbors were.
Also that day was Dudley's enjoyment of being able to drive a car. Harry would much prefer to sit on a broom and fly about, but Dudley insisted on placing Harry (forcing, more the word) into the passenger seat and stopping wildly at odd parts of the road, 'baby fat' making the horn of the car beep at every brake.
To Harry's amazement, Dudley somehow managed to fit himself in the Austin Mini he had been given for his birthday (and was able to shut the doors) but he had, on the bright side, shrunk considerably and was now roughly the size of Crabbe or Goyle, adding about twenty five pounds.
However, Harry needed to concentrate more on the task at hand, not Dudley's joyriding. Aunt Petunia, he knew, would be willing to drive him nearly anywheres at the blink of an eye.
'Err...Aunt Petunia?' Harry said, dully, so as not to sound as if he was whining.
'Yes, Harry?' she smiled a bit, showing those teeth he so horribly resented.
'Ron and Hermione...my...err...m-a-g-i-c'
'Don't spell it either, boy.' Uncle Vernon growled from behind a cantelope.
'Friends', Harry continued, 'Have invited me to go to a...erm...youknowwhat place tommorrow, it's right in London. You can drop me off at Piccadilly Circuit and I can walk from there.'
'Of course. Will you be back?' she said, plopping wheat germ into Dudley's bowl.
'No. I'll probably be at, um, Uncle Vernon?' Harry stopped at a thought.
'What?'
'Am I allowed to say their names?' Harry asked, twiddling his thumbs.
'Of course you are, just don't say they're anything abnormal, dammit.'
'Alright, Ron's house in Ottery St. Catchpole. They always have room for one more...which is funny because...'
'Your pushing it, boy.'
'Yes, Uncle Vernon.'
'Say it like you mean it.'
'Yes, Mister Uncle Vernon, sir. I didn't mean to push it.'
Dudley laughed so hard into his marshmallow-sugar cereal that he inhaled atleast half the bowl and it took several minutes to dislodge it from his throught. That night, Harry packed everything carefully into his trunk, which was newly painted a royal blue with crimson outlining. He cleaned Hedwig's cage out and serviced his Firebolt, making sure the numbers 2302 and the word Firebolt shone more than usual. He clipped a few stray twigs and got rid of the rust stains from the chains that once held the broom in Professor Umbridge's office last year. At last he packed it into it's velvet lined case, shoved his quill and parchment hastily into their proper bags and shut the trunk, wandering over to his bed and falling asleep before he could even remove his glasses.
But in his dream he wasn't tired. In fact, he was quite awake. He was sitting like a plank straight up in his high seat. A dimming fire crackled in the corner. A serpent lay on the floor beneath his feet.
A man stumbled forward, hat toppling from his head, and bent low to the ground. His right arm a shining hand of metal, Harry kicked him uselessly.
'I cannot believe you. I trust in you, what may be the simplest of tasks, and you fail. Horribly. You cannot be trusted' Harry said.
'I am sorry...she...she...she is not a squib. She is dangerous, that woman. Wizarding connections, she has.'
'See to it that these, connections, are disposed of.'
'I will, my lord. I will.'
Harry nodded slightly. 'Do so. Do so or suffer. And this time, Wormtail, I mean more than pain.'
Harry Potter flopped himself on his bed in disbelief, eyes surveying a tremendous pile of packages that lie just feet from his bed. On particularly large one seemed to have had trouble fitting through the door, as its bow was rather mangled and bright green and blue packaging slightly gnarled.
Warily, he picked up the tag of one of the smaller ones. 'To Harry, From Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon'
He sighed, pushing back the bow to reveal a rather expensive portable CD player. He should have known. Counting, there were ten presents in all, discluding two rather angered owls standing outside his bedroom window, hooting madly.
He opened the window and two packages, one letter plopped on his bed. The owls took a nibble at Hedwig's treats and once again took flight. Harry turned his attention to the three packages (which were considerably smaller than those at the bottom of his bed) and opened the first, not bothering to read the card. He could tell by the messy wrap job that Ron Weasley, one of two of his best friends, had sent him it. Opening it revealed a cake, which flopped onto the bed, and a book, The Encyclopedia of Broom Models, by Vitale Etoile. A note drifted to the floor between Harry's feet, and he grabbed it rather suddenly.
Harry,
Happy Birthday! It's Ron, by the way (I knew you wouldn't read the tag...blimey, I'm good, eh?) Thought you might enjoy seeing what your Firebolt could easily leave in the...err...dust.
Hermione's here, but Dad says you're best off staying where you are for a couple of days. Mum's nearly had kittens insisting that you're safer off with us, but Dad says to wait. I think Hermione said something about meeting up in her letter, so I'm not going to bore you.
-Ron
At this, Harry promptly ripped open Hermione's package-the neat and tidy one-to find a new potions set consisting of a few more interesting ingredients than were in his general set. As well, there was a note.
Harry!
Hope you enjoy this set...might make Snape a bit more easy to bear. You have to go to Diagon Alley, don't you? Ron and I both need to...Fred and George got a hold of our Prefect Badges and now they have an arrow and the words 'I'm with stupid'. It's somehow bewitched to change when a prefect stands nearby and the arrow will point at them. Nothing works to get it off, either.
What's say we meet at the Gringotts entrance hall at 2:30 on August 1st? Your aunt and uncle can't be too mad, since the Order of the Pheonix gave them a nice talking to. Good luck on your OWL results, by the way!
-Hermione
Harry's head snapped to the letter that still lay on his bed. The fuschia ink shone. He ripped it open and two papers toppled out, not to mention numerous medallions and a very small badge that named him Quidditch Captain. He read the first letter, which consisted mainly of things he'd need for the semester and a reminder that although he was not a Prefect he would still be eligible to be Head Boy and not to let his marks fall because of this. The second paper was exactly what he was looking for.
'5TH YEAR ORDINARY WIZARDING TEST POTTER, HARRY
TRANSFIGURATION: exceeds expectations
CHARMS: outstanding
POTIONS: below average'
Harry snorted, no surprise there.
'HERBOLOGY: exceeds expectations
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: average-satisfactory
HISTORY OF MAGIC: exceeds expectations
ASTRONOMY: average
DIVINATION: below average
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: beyond outstanding'
Gawping at the letter, Harry reread. Beyond outstanding. Hermione probably couldn't beat that. He grinned and then laughed at his Divination mark-to be frank, he wasn't at all concerned. He opened his closet to his Quidditch robes, on which he pinned the bright new Quidditch Captain badge. He closed the cupboard and then surveyed his numerous medallions, which turned out to be the certifications of his OWL marks, to keep with him much like a degree. He put them in a small box in the closet and walked out the door.
The cat flap was still on his door from the second year, but Aunt Petunia had been using it to shove Mars Bars and Smarties at any time of the day. She insisted on serving Harry more to the sheer awe of Uncle Vernon ('You missed Dudley's plate, Petunia.') and Dudley ('What in bloody hell do you think you're doing, mum?') Since Moody's chat with her, she had been treating Harry as if he was some sort of precious object to her, much like the bottle of window cleaner that she carried everywhere.
The morning passed quite lazily, and Harry opened the rest of his presents, which consisted of Muggle items that he enjoyed nonetheless. Aunt Petunia insisted on being overjoyed with Harry's marks on OWLs and probably would have placed them on the refridgerator next to Dudley's numerous Es if Uncle Vernon hadn't started yelling loudly about how nosey the neighbors were.
Also that day was Dudley's enjoyment of being able to drive a car. Harry would much prefer to sit on a broom and fly about, but Dudley insisted on placing Harry (forcing, more the word) into the passenger seat and stopping wildly at odd parts of the road, 'baby fat' making the horn of the car beep at every brake.
To Harry's amazement, Dudley somehow managed to fit himself in the Austin Mini he had been given for his birthday (and was able to shut the doors) but he had, on the bright side, shrunk considerably and was now roughly the size of Crabbe or Goyle, adding about twenty five pounds.
However, Harry needed to concentrate more on the task at hand, not Dudley's joyriding. Aunt Petunia, he knew, would be willing to drive him nearly anywheres at the blink of an eye.
'Err...Aunt Petunia?' Harry said, dully, so as not to sound as if he was whining.
'Yes, Harry?' she smiled a bit, showing those teeth he so horribly resented.
'Ron and Hermione...my...err...m-a-g-i-c'
'Don't spell it either, boy.' Uncle Vernon growled from behind a cantelope.
'Friends', Harry continued, 'Have invited me to go to a...erm...youknowwhat place tommorrow, it's right in London. You can drop me off at Piccadilly Circuit and I can walk from there.'
'Of course. Will you be back?' she said, plopping wheat germ into Dudley's bowl.
'No. I'll probably be at, um, Uncle Vernon?' Harry stopped at a thought.
'What?'
'Am I allowed to say their names?' Harry asked, twiddling his thumbs.
'Of course you are, just don't say they're anything abnormal, dammit.'
'Alright, Ron's house in Ottery St. Catchpole. They always have room for one more...which is funny because...'
'Your pushing it, boy.'
'Yes, Uncle Vernon.'
'Say it like you mean it.'
'Yes, Mister Uncle Vernon, sir. I didn't mean to push it.'
Dudley laughed so hard into his marshmallow-sugar cereal that he inhaled atleast half the bowl and it took several minutes to dislodge it from his throught. That night, Harry packed everything carefully into his trunk, which was newly painted a royal blue with crimson outlining. He cleaned Hedwig's cage out and serviced his Firebolt, making sure the numbers 2302 and the word Firebolt shone more than usual. He clipped a few stray twigs and got rid of the rust stains from the chains that once held the broom in Professor Umbridge's office last year. At last he packed it into it's velvet lined case, shoved his quill and parchment hastily into their proper bags and shut the trunk, wandering over to his bed and falling asleep before he could even remove his glasses.
But in his dream he wasn't tired. In fact, he was quite awake. He was sitting like a plank straight up in his high seat. A dimming fire crackled in the corner. A serpent lay on the floor beneath his feet.
A man stumbled forward, hat toppling from his head, and bent low to the ground. His right arm a shining hand of metal, Harry kicked him uselessly.
'I cannot believe you. I trust in you, what may be the simplest of tasks, and you fail. Horribly. You cannot be trusted' Harry said.
'I am sorry...she...she...she is not a squib. She is dangerous, that woman. Wizarding connections, she has.'
'See to it that these, connections, are disposed of.'
'I will, my lord. I will.'
Harry nodded slightly. 'Do so. Do so or suffer. And this time, Wormtail, I mean more than pain.'