Harry Potter and the Pit of Snakes

By: Gold Sword, Silver Bow and Ruby Flame

Goldie: We're going to be editing some parts of this story to make it have more 'flow'!

All of the Dursleys were as still as statues, with the exception of Aunt Petunia, who was apprehensively chewing on her nails, or what ever was left of them. Harry looked around his neurotic aunt to notice that the kitchen was supernaturally clean. They were waiting for dinner guests, the Sourpusses, from America for Uncle Vernon's business.

It had been at least thirty seconds before someone started to pound on the door as if it were a drum.

"Well, isn't someone going to answer the door?" Harry asked, trying to agitate his relatives.

Uncle Vernon presented him an evil glare as an answer to his question and went towards the pounding from behind the door. As he opened it, a tall and skinny man with straw-colored hair and a monocle over his left, hazel eye punched Vernon in the nose, causing it to bleed, then scowled. He was with his wife, a middle-aged lady with graying blonde hair, and two boys, both with blond hair, and looking similar to each other except that one was taller and covered with pimples. A flash of lightning, giving them an eerie entrance, suddenly illuminated them.

"Lovely weather," the snooty woman said sarcastically in a nasal American accent.

"I presume London is always dark and gray," the shorter man said in his snobby aristocratic voice. He sniffed then glared at the host. "Are you going to allow us in, or require us stay outside in this abominable climate?" Vernon turned a garish shade of puce.

"Hey!" the tall, pimply boy exclaimed. He was older—or so it seemed—than the other one by a few minutes. He rushed into the kitchen, tracking dirt and mud. Aunt Petunia's eyes widened, her face turned ashy white and she looked as if she was about to faint. She made a choking noise, which caused Harry to smirked, as he was walking off to the kitchen.

"Good day Mr. Sourpuss!" Uncle Vernon managed to choke out, outstretching his hand. "Welcome to my home."

"Address me as Reginald and here is my wife Gertrude and my two sons, Edison, the taller one, and Edgar," Reginald said with a pompous American air to his voice, seeming not to notice Uncle Vernon's hand and disregarded it.

"Good day, but I hope I don't seem impolite to ask, but weren't there three children coming?" Aunt Petunia spoke up, still pale, and rushing to her husband's side.

"Oh, our foster daughter has been reunited with her aunt now." Gertrude shuddered. "It was the miracle that we've been praying for these past fourteen years though. Her attitude was quite ghastly."

Both families merrily chuckled, all except Harry, who looked at them with disgust. He felt sorry for the girl, for she never knew her parents either, but at least he had Sirius… until recently.

Harry Potter may seem like your ordinary boy who was forced into an awful situation, except his extraordinary scar on his forehead that he got when he got when he first faced the Dark Lord, as a baby. He is the only person in history that survived, Avada Kadavra, the killing curse. The man who pulled this dreadful curse on this boy was Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard of this time. He annihilated Lily and James Potter, Harry's parents, as he was in search of the infant, forcing him to live with the Dursleys, who absolutely detested magic in every shape and form, ruining his childhood.

"Mom! I'm 'ungry!" one of the whiney children complained. "I want ice cream!"

"It'll be okay, Edgar," Mrs. Sourpuss cooed to her son. "We'll be eating soon."

"I want ice cream, too!" another whiney voice cried.

"Alright, after we eat some of the cuisine that Mrs. Dursley has 'generously' prepared for us."

As everyone was sitting around the dining room table, including Harry, chaos erupted again.

"MOM! We want ice cream now!" both of the Sourpuss boys shrieked.

With that, Harry took that as a sign to sneak back upstairs and into his room. He followed his instincts and fell onto his stone-hard bed.

He grabbed his photo album he got from Hagrid in his first year and flipped through the pages.

He saw a picture of his female best friend, Hermione, laying under the big oak tree that Snape's worst memory took place. She was reading a book, as she was brushing back her brown hair from her face. On the next page, Ron, his other best friend, was flying around on Harry's Firebolt, which he got back last year after Professor Umbridge captivated it. When he landed on his deceased parents' wedding picture, his throat started to hurt.

His godfather, Sirius, was smiling and waving at him with his eyes filled with cheer. Harry slammed the book shut and threw it across the room, making it crash into the dresser, knocking off the homework planner he got from Hermione last Christmas. It shrieked, "Don't delay or later you'll pay!"

He smiled to himself, his first smile for a long time.

Aunt Petunia opened the door abruptly and looked around the room to see if anything was wrong. When her eyes landed on Harry, he saw something he hadn't seen in a long time: Worry.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to mask the concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied, trying to slide back under his blankets. "I just got frustrated."

"Okay, well," she said, obviously feeling awkward, "we're having dessert."

"I'm not hungry."

Petunia walked over to his bed and sat next to him. "Listen, about your whole godfather dying…"—Harry winced—"Um, here. Read this."

He sat straight up and looked at his Aunt in the eye. She stared back into his emerald eyes and then dropped an opened envelope on his lap (Aunt Petunia is very nosy) and left without another word.

He opened it and started to read.

Harry,

I know you have been hurt very deeply with Sirius' death, but you aren't alone. I have also lost a very dear friend as well. Remember that he's always there to watch over you. His legacy is written in the stars. And just remember you have friends that love you and a family who care a great deal about you.

He read the anonymous over again to try to decipher the handwriting. He couldn't think who would write this but forgot all about it, as pandemonium struck downstairs again. This time louder.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU FREAKS!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from downstairs.

"We're only here to pick up Harry, mate," a familiar voice said, one belonging to Fred Weasley.

After he folded the note and stuffed it in his pocket, Harry flew downstairs to see what caused all the noise, and to his surprise, he saw George and Fred Weasley in their ridiculous dragon hide jackets they bought last year. Dudley was running place to place with his hands covering his mouth as everyone else was screaming.

"STAY AWAY FROM US!" Mr. Sourpuss ordered, rushing his family out the front door.

"Wait!" George said, but the Sourpusses didn't even hesitate for a second. "You forgot your wallet!" and with that he put it in his pocket.

"Harry! Good to be seein' you again!" Fred said, taking out a sock. "Touch the toe and you'll be sent to Twelve Grimmauld."

Harry looked hesitant for a while. He didn't want to go back to the house where Sirius was imprisoned in…

"Here, let me get your stuff," George advised. "Accio Harry's Junk!"

When all of the stuff that Harry wanted was in front of them, Fred muttered a charm and they disappeared.

"All aboard!" and with a touch of the magic sock, he found himself in Twelve Grimmauld, in the presence of his friends.

So how was it? Was it okay? We really need a self-esteem boost so why don't you send us a review? Well, it's just an idea.

Three Spoil'd Anjelz