"I've been attacked by dementors and expelled from Hogwarts for a spell I didn't cast. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know it NOW".
Copying those words onto four pieces of parchment and rolling them up, Harry set them at the edge of his desk before turning to peer out the window to check… and Hedwig had been owl-napped by his 'friends'.
Scowling as he stomped across his room and snatched up the parchment again, Harry clenched his jaw angrily as he glared towards the door again. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to tell anyone what'd happened here when they owl-napped his owl?
Hand clenching into a fist around the letters, Harry growled for a moment before yelping in shock as – with a tingle of electricity – the scrunched up parchment burst into flames. Dropping what little remained of the letters to the floor, Harry rubbed at the palm of his burnt hand in wonder, watching as with every swipe he brushed off more of the ash clinging to his skin. It hadn't hurt… sure he'd panicked and screamed, but it hadn't actually hurt him beyond the sudden heat and light.
Staring at his palm for a moment, wiggling his fingers slowly as he thought, a small smirk flickered across his lips. Striding across the room, he pulled a random book from the broken shelf against the wall, only glancing at the title absently to confirm it was one that Dudley had never read. With a single move, Harry had thrown the book into the middle of the room and snapped his fingers in the same movement, the dusty copy of 'The Chronicles of Narnia' bursting into flames before it even hit the ground.
Was that it? Could he only create the fire or could he do more with it? Keeping his hand extended Harry tried imagining the fire going out, scowling when nothing happened before trying to 'feel around' for the spark. He assumed he needed to feel the spark in his chest ignite before he could do anything, he only conjured fire when he felt the spark after all. But how could he come up with a way to access his spark when he didn't even know what it was? For all he knew he was using wandless magic to cast an Incindio, if he put aside his belief in this not being magic at least, something he didn't feel right in doing.
They'd been shown how to 'feel' their magic when casting spells in DADA last year, Professor Lupin had explained that it would help prevent them from overpowering or under powering a spell. And Harry may have been horrible at it, being unable to 'clear his mind' the way Professor Lupin had explained, but even he could tell that he wasn't using magic in doing this.
"Okay," he murmured aloud as he watched the book burning without a Ministry Owl in sight, "So if you're not magic, then what are you?"
Eyes scouring his bedroom for the object he knew he had hidden somewhere, Harry let out a muffled sound of triumph as he darted across the room to pull it out from underneath his desk. Setting the metal trash can in the centre of his room, he lazily kicked aside the still burning book and chucked another one ('Prince Caspian') into it. Taking a moment to stomp out the flames on the first book in the series, Harry thanked anyone that was listening that Hermione wasn't around to see his treatment of the two books before raising his hand and taking aim.
Snap
Snap
Snap
Watching as the flames leapt and sputtered within the trash can, Harry tried to ignore the mesmerizing movements and focused on feeling the spark in his chest. Maybe it was something he'd need time to learn? He was having absolutely no process at the moment, every time he tried to trace the spark he ended up completely lost and turned around, wishing he'd paid more attention when Professor Lupin had tried to show them all how to feel for their magic. He probably needed to know how to meditate to be able to track his spark, and that was only if he even could do that.
Knowing as little as he did, it was more than possible that he could only start fires, not control them. It wasn't like he had an expert on weird things on speed-dial after all. If he did, then they'd basically be on the phone with each other twenty-four seven considering the things he'd seen in the Wizarding World.
Maybe he needed a therapist?
Not dismissing that idea entirely, Harry refocused on what he was doing, faltering as he realised that as he'd kept snapping his fingers the fire had gotten hotter and hotter until the metal bin was glowing a faint red. Not really having a better place to practice with, he quickly dropped his hand back to his side, grabbing the bottle of water on his nightstand and emptying it out into the bin. Dumping the burnt copy of the 'Chronicles of Narnia' into the steaming bin with the second book, he stumbled back to collapse onto his bed, staring at the smoking bin thoughtfully.
There was nothing else he could do. Not really, anyway.
Without a book or a teacher – or any sort of information, really – Harry couldn't do anything bar practice and experiment with what he already could do. And he couldn't really experiment without having somewhere to do it, he knew the dangers of going around setting fires he couldn't control in a non-fire proof location. Professor Flitwick had only let them practice the Incindio charm with himself and the seventh year Prefects in the room, since allowing a group of untrained magic-users to throw fire around a classroom without methods of controlling it was plain stupidity.
Head snapping up as he heard the front door opening, Harry padded over to the window and peered out, watching as his relatives herded Dudley into the car. Idiots. It wasn't even Harry's fault that Dudley was like that. If the obese boy hadn't woken up in the middle of the attack and ran straight at the non-burning dementor, then he wouldn't have been almost kissed, although it would have been nice of Dudley to mention the hulking black cloaked figure that had tried to molest him. Not even Dudley was dumb enough to mistake a dementor for Harry, even if he was dumb enough to believe that chocolate was a vegetable because it was made with cocoa beans.
As Vernon and Petunia zoomed off to what Harry assumed was the hospital, he backed away and fell back onto his bed once more.
What if he went to Diagon Alley? Surely there was a way into the Ministry of Magic from there? And if there wasn't then at least he could use the post office attached to the side of Eeylop's Owl Emporium to send the now-ash letters, and maybe send letters to his so-called friends cursing them to the ends of the Earth for owl-napping Hedwig.
Feeling himself perk up at the possibility of sending howlers to his friends, Harry darted across the room towards his desk, almost tripping over the metal bin in the process. He only had time to grab a quill however before a flash of feathers appeared in front of him, the owl that had swooped in through his open window giving him a dark look as he almost stabbed it with the feathered quill.
"WAIT!"
The owl landing on his windowsill and glaring again, Harry looked from the large 'M' on the envelope it had dropped to the owl hopefully, his inner Hermione whispering in his ear. "I need to get a letter to Madam Bone of the Ministry, could you please wait and take it to her?" he asked slowly, "There's food and water on the perch there," he added when the owl looked like it was going to take off into the night.
Hiding his sigh of relief when the owl changed his mind and hopped over to Hedwig's perch, Harry quickly re-wrote the letter from earlier and reworded it for Madam Bones – the Aunt of fellow fifth year, Susan Bones.
"I've just been attacked by dementors and expelled from Hogwarts for a spell I didn't cast.
Cast 'Priori Incantatem' on my wand if you want proof. I'll even give memories and take veritaserum, but I didn't cast any spells despite me and my muggle cousin almost being kissed by dementors.
Harry Potter".
Pausing to tear open the new letter and skim over it, Harry felt mixed surges of relief and anger at its contents. Dumbledore was involved now? Where the hell was he then? He certainly wasn't at Number Four checking on Harry. And what did they mean a 'disciplinary hearing'? He hadn't done anything wrong, not that he believed this was anything more than an excuse for the Ministry.
"According to this second letter I'm now only suspended pending a hearing, but I don't see why I should have to go to a hearing for something I didn't do" he added in the gap between the body of the letter and his name, "Here are both letters if you want proof".
Folding both letters from the Ministry up and wrapping them in his own to Madam Bones, Harry tied them together and handed it over to the impatient looking owl, watching as it dove out the window without a second look.
Was he making the right move here? His gut said he had, and his inner Hermione agreed with it even though his inner Ron thought it as too risky in case Madam Bones was in on it. His inner Ron was also hungry though, so with another look towards the open window Harry stood, trying to focus his thoughts on just grabbing something to eat before heading to bed. There was nothing more he could do tonight anyway, he could only wait and hope that Madam Bones was willing to give him a chance, although once again his inner Hermione thought he should sneak into Diagon Alley and grab some books on Wizarding Law.
What he wouldn't give to have the real Hermione there with him.
Wait never mind. If the real Hermione was there with him then he'd probably be screaming at her.
Everything was on fire.
Everywhere he looked he saw something burning, the hungry flames not slowing an inch as they rolled across gardens and leapt between houses.
Not even flinching as an explosion tore through the air beside him, Harry barely spared the cause of it – Uncle Vernon's car – a glance before he was walking up the footpath towards the open door. Stepping through the fiery portal, he instantly started heading upstairs, pausing for a moment to smirk at the sight of the 'loving' family photos curling and brown in the heat before continuing on his way.
There it was. The only thing in the house that wasn't on fire.
Reaching out slowly, Harry knocked on his bedroom door, not entirely sure about what he was doing but still following the script he'd never seen before. Knocking again when the door didn't open, he reached out to twist the door handle and push it open, stepping into his room and onto a floor of pure flames.
If Harry hadn't already been so certain that he was dreaming, then the volcano he had walked into through his bedroom door clearly screamed it to the high heavens. He didn't understand what this dream meant however, never before had he seen mention of volcanoes in his divination textbooks – which, despite Hermione and Ron's opinions, he had read. And there was no symbolism that he could see, no repeating shapes or patterns in the surging and spouting lava of the erupting volcano. Besides, most of Harry's more recent dreams were nightmares of Voldemort's return and of Cedric's death, making this dream actually rather pleasant in comparison.
Something black in the nearly-blinding brilliance of the lava caught his attention suddenly, and from where he was standing frozen in the centre of the rising volcano, Harry watched as a long neck stretched out of the lava to rear back above him. An ear-splitting roar made Harry flinch in the comforting heat of the lava, almost falling back into the molten substance as the dragon drew its head back and unleashed a jet of fire that engulfed him in seconds.
IGNITION
Ooooh! Spooky dragon! Now the story is getting interesting am I right? Of course I am, because dragons make everything better. And don't worry, our dragon friend will be returning in later chapters and an even WORSE dragon will be showing its ugly toad-like face in the next one!
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I don't own Harry Potter.
IGNITION
