Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix

Chapter One

A Very Special Gift (why would I call the chapter that? There's no special gift… or is there?)

The Worst Birthday (Um, isn't there a chapter in one of the other books called that?)

The Stupid Chapter That The Author Couldn't Think Of A Name For (I'll just go back and change it after.)

Severus Snape was a man by the name of… uh… Severus Snape. He worked as the Hogwarts Master of Potions School of Witchcraft and… no, wait… Witchcraft Master of Wizarding Hogwarts School… no, that's not it… uh… wait, I know this line…

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there was a Potions Master by the name of Severus Snape. This is where our story begins… in his… uh… damn it!

Our story begins at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where a man by the name of Severus Snape taught Potions.

That's it! I did it… uh, oh yeah, right, the story… no, this isn't even how the book is supposed to start anyway. Give me a break, we don't begin with Snape, it's always Potter, always! Well, yes, there was the Goblet of Breadcrumbs, I mean, Fire that started with Voldemort, but not Snape. Never Snape.

Our story begins at 4 Privet Drive, where a boy by the name of Harry Potter is celebrating his fifteenth birthday. Celebrating is, perhaps, an overstatement. There will be no party and few presents, but he's happy all the same.

Spammit, this still isn't right. Gosh, writing these books is a lot harder than I thought it'd be. Too bad JK Rowling isn't around anymore. Poor lass drove herself insane fantasizing over Snape, a fictional character; one she created, no less. Wow, glad I'm not that sad. 'Course, now I'm stuck with writing this… why am I typing my thoughts out anyway? I'll edit them out after. Let's get back to the story.

Night had fallen on Privet Drive. The lights of the street lamps reflected off the wet street, the stars twinkled against the blue velvet curtain of the sky and the moon was clear and bright - almost too bright.

Cripes, how lame is that? Honestly, I pay far too much attention in English class.

Harry Potter stared out of his window, waiting for Hedwig. She had been away for nearly a fortnight, yet, she still hadn't returned. Surely Sirius couldn't be that far away, it had only been a month since Harry last saw him. He couldn't have been captured, Harry would have heard about it. He had been getting the wizarding world newspaper, the Daily Prophet, delivered to him. If Sirius had been arrested, it would've been on the front page. Harry glanced over at thirty days worth of newspapers sitting on his floor. He couldn't throw them out, because the Dursley's would find out about them and if they did, they would have his neck.

Just his luck, eh? Poor Potter… oh, wait, I'm supposed to glorify him, aren't I? Spammit.

They despised anything to do with Harry's world. Living with them had become more of a nightmare than before. The incident with the Ton-Tongue Toffees had left a lasting effect on all three of them; Harry couldn't imagine why. The effect on Dudley Dursley seemed to be a good one however. Ever since, he had been petrified of anything sweet. When Harry left for school last year, he was the size and weight of a young killer whale. When Harry returned, he was the size and weight of, well, a normal fifteen-year old boy. Dudley now had a girlfriend, who seemed to be at the house every waking moment. Her name was Sophie, and she hated Harry too. She never talked to him, which was fine with Harry because he thought she looked like a Shar-pei.

So, Dudley's a ladies man, and Harry's got no one? On no! Spammit, glorifying, glo-o-orifying.

Harry glanced down at his desk with his homework was scattered all over it. He still had a month to finish it, but he thought it best to get it done before he left for the Burrow in three days. Defense Against The Dark Arts was the topic of the moment, with only five more questions to go, all of them reviewing the Unforgivable Curses they had learned about at the beginning of last year.

1. What are the three Unforgivable Curses?

The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse and Avada Kedavra.

2. What does each curse do to its victim?

The Imperius Curse allows the person who placed the curse to control the victim. The Cruciatus Curse tortures the victim. Avada Kedavra is the killing curse.

3. What is the punishment for using one of these curses?

A life term in Azkaban.

4. Are there any counter curses for any of them?

The Imperius and Cruciatus Curses can be fought with strength of mind. Avada Kedavra has no counter curse.

5. Has anyone ever survived the killing curse?

Yes, I did.

Maybe I should've made the homework harder… don't want to stress poor Potter's brain though, do I? Wait a minute, he's fictional, fictional.

Harry put his papers into a stack on the corner of his desk, having completely finished his homework for the summer. But, he still had one more question. Who was going to be their new teacher? No Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher had lasted more than a year. Professor Quirrell was a servant to Lord Voldemort. Professor Lockhart was a brainless git who forged his entire career. Professor Lupin had been the best by far, but resigned when everyone found out he was a werewolf. Finally, there was Mad Eye Moody. But, in reality, Moody never taught Harry. The whole year, another man had impersonated Moody and fooled the entire school; Harry didn't like remembering this.

I hate this recapping stuff. When does the story start? If people don't know this stuff already, they should go back and read the first four books instead of going straight to the fifth. Honestly, some people.

Then there was Severus Snape, the Potions Master who desperately wanted the DADA job. Of course, this would be terrible for Harry - Snape hated him, despised him, loathed him. If Snape taught DADA, it would turn the school year into a living hell for Harry. The very thought of this caused Harry's blood to boil.

But he's so sexy, he can't be that bad. I have the power to control this now… MWAA HA HA! Brilliant! Ooh, I'm going to have so much fun.

There was still no sign of Hedwig. Harry glanced at his watch, which still didn't work, so it was a pretty pointless thing to do. However, his bedside clock told him it was eleven thirty-five. He knew he couldn't stay up all night waiting for his owl, he just wanted for her to be here for his birthday; she was the only one in the house who ever celebrated it with him. He always received letters and gifts from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and, as of a year ago, Sirius too. The Dursley's paid no attention to Harry's birthday whatsoever. Midnight was getting closer and closer. The moon still shone with an eerie brightness, the stars still twinkled on its velvet backdrop and the wind rustled the tree leaves, whistling at Harry's ears. It brushed through Harry's hair, causing it to be messier than it usually was.

I wonder what Harry would look like with purple hair, or pink, or blue, or… uh, yeah, the story.

Harry felt something graze against his ear, then he heard a thud behind him. He spun around to see a small, gray owl ricocheting of the wall. Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, had a package tied around his leg. Harry picked Pig up, placed him gently inside Hedwig's cage, poured him some water and gave him a few Owl Pellets. The package on his leg was very lumpy and badly wrapped. It also looked, well, moldy; little green tufts had sprouted all over the brown paper wrappings and the string that bound it together was frayed and tattered. Harry threw the package onto his bed; he couldn't open it yet, not for another ten minutes.

No! Open it! I want to know what it is! Oh, I control that too, don't I? Better think up something sharpish then.

Two more owls flew into Harry's room, neither of them were Hedwig. A large tawny owl that paled in comparison to the gigantic eagle owl that sat beside it; Harry had never seen an owl of this size. He walked over to the windowsill where they were perched. The tawny owl was from Hermione and it had a small package bound to its leg that was wrapped in emerald green paper. The eagle owl was from Hogwarts; it had a letter from the school and a gift from Hagrid secured to it. The gift was quite heavy, probably why they had to use such a large owl.

Harry now had three gifts for his birthday. He had to wait another five minutes until his birthday, until he could open his gifts. A strong breeze blew through his room. Harry got up to close the window, took another glance at the ghostly moon and sat down on his bed to open the manila envelope from Hogwarts.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Ain't that special?

Dear Mr. Potter

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will be departing from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock. A list of supplies is enclosed. We also ask that you read the notice.

Yours sincerely

Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Harry pulled out a second piece of parchment.

Uniform

Fifth year students require

1. Three sets of black robes

2. One black pointed hat with silver trimming

3. One winter cloak with gold fastenings

4. One set of dress robes

5. Protective socks

Books

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) by Miranda Goshawk

Foreign Plants and Their Uses by Phyllida Spore

The Worlds Most Deadly Potions by Arsenius Jigger

An Intermediate Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Dangerous Beasts and Gentle Creatures by Elie Fant

Supplies

Fifth year students will require

1. A silver-plated cauldron (size 7)

2. A magnascope

3. One set of peridot phials

One last piece of parchment fell out of the envelope

ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS

Everyone third year and older will be pleased to know the Professor R. Lupin will be rejoining the Hogwarts faculty this year.

Yours truly,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

Yay! He's really sexy too!

Harry's clock beeped to signal it was midnight and sense of great joy flooded Harry's body. His favorite teacher was returning to Hogwarts; he wouldn't have to put up with a new DADD teacher, the best one was coming back. This also meant he wouldn't have to put up with the Slytherins as much - Lupin liked them about as much as Harry did.

Harry took Hermione's gift and opened the letter that was taped onto it.

Dear Harry

Happy birthday once again! I hope this got to you on time, I'm on holiday in Bulgaria and couldn't find any owls. It's too bad you couldn't spend the summer at the Burrow, but Professor Dumbledore knows best. Ron told me you're staying with them in August. I'll be staying there for the last week of holidays, so I guess I'll see you then!

As I mentioned before, I'm on holiday in Bulgaria, visiting Viktor. There is some incredible wizarding history, I took loads of pictures, you can see them at the Burrow. You'll never guess who I saw here! Gilderoy Lockhart! I didn't talk to him, of course, he was busy talking to a statue of Whita the Wacky. It seems the memory charms effects haven't worn off yet.

I have so much to tell you, but I can't fit it all on this parchment. I'll see you in a few weeks.

Love

Hermione

Harry ripped the shimmering green paper off his gift. It was a tiny golden model of a Firebolt. Its tail twigs were moving slightly, as if it was flying through the air. As Harry admired the minute details of the broomstick, he heard a rustling of paper beside him. Looking over, he saw a tiny person emerging from the green wrapping paper. It was a figurine of Daemon Sunderland, the Seeker for England. The little, blue clad man hopped up onto Harry's knee, clambered onto the Firebolt and started zooming around the room. It was a strange sight to see, a two-inch tall man flying a golden broomstick. Harry saw a small note attached to the paper.

I wonder if he'd get hurt if you poked him…

Harry,

This is a Firebolt model and the little man is England's Seeker, Daemon Sunderland. He will fly around all day, then return to wherever the stand is at night or when you call it. It's like those little models they were selling at the Quidditch World Cup last year. Viktor suggested that this might be something you would like.

Hermione

Harry managed to tear his eyes away from Sunderland to open his gift from Hagrid. It was wrapped in gray paper with pictures of stars on it, and inside he found a blue velvet bag with a piece of silver cord tied around the top.

Dear Harry

Happy Birthday! Hope the Muggles aren't treating you too badly.

These are Twilight stones; Firenze gave them to me. Centaurs use them for some kind of star magic, I'm not sure what, but I thought they were very pretty. Hope you can find some use for them.

Best wishes

See you September 1st

Hagrid

Harry untied the silver cord and tipped the contents of the bag onto his bed; five magnificent blue-violet stones fell out. They gleamed in the light as though they had real stars in them. Harry picked one up and examined it - it was slightly transparent and when he held it up to the lamp on his bedside table, he could see silver and gold flecks glittering from within, like a miniature galaxy. It was so mesmerizing Harry didn't want to break his gaze. Each stone seemed to have a different pattern of gold, like constellations. One looked like a unicorn, another like a hippogriff and if it weren't for an odd smell spreading around the room, Harry would never have broken his gaze.

A smell, a god-awful stench entered Harry's nose. It was disgusting, so vile that it made Harry's eye's water. Where was it coming from? He opened his window again and started to wave his arms like a windmill, trying to get the malodor out. As he was doing this, he noticed the final gift lying on his bed. Ron's gift was now greener than ever and the air around it seemed to be quivering. That was where the stink was coming from.

Oo-er, what could it be? I've got to think something up! Now, what smells…?

Harry wished he could use magic outside of school so he wouldn't have to smell this dreadful smell. Then Harry remembered something, something that made him glad his room was full of Dudley's old junk. A few years ago, Aunt Petunia put Dudley in swimming lessons. He failed, of course, he wasn't able to stop himself from sinking. There was a pair of nose plugs in here somewhere, if only Harry could remember where. With one hand pinching his nose, he began to search the room.

Wow, brilliant Potter and his brilliant idea. Glorifying… he is the hero of the story.

Eventually, Harry found the plugs behind his chest of school equipment. He pinched them on his nose and seated himself on his bed. The fraying strings snapped as Harry picked up the package; the furry brown-green wrappings peeled off revealing a letter attached to another package, which was completely covered in mold. Harry unfolded the letter and read his friends untidy scrawl.

To Harry

Happy birthday! How's life with the Muggles? Not too bad, I hope. Did they still remember the toffee accident? Hope they didn't take it out on you, it was Fred and George's fault. Mum still gets at them a bit for that.

I can't say too much to you right now, we won't have anything to talk about when you get here. Hope you like the gift. It's from Romania. Charlie brought it with him when he came to visit.

See you soon

Ron

With much reluctance, Harry began to pull the paper off his gift. What he saw... well, it looked like a perfectly ordinary wristwatch. He examined it closely, admiring the golden hands and leather strap - it seemed to be quite normal, except for the smell. He picked up the small note crumpled in the wrappings.

Harry,

All right, I'll try my best to explain this to you. This is a special Romanian Divination watch. It works like normal, tells the time and stuff. But, it can tell when something bad is going to happen and gives off a real bad smelling gas. It's probably a piece of junk like that Sneakoscope I gave you. So, if it start smelling, don't take it too seriously. I'll bet it's as fake as Trelawney's predictions. Eventually, It'll run out of that stinky stuff and will just be a normal watch. I knew you needed one since yours broke during the Tournament.

Ron.

The smell was becoming quite overpowering, even through the nose plugs. Harry grabbed a large, puke-green sock (one of Uncle Vernon's), crammed the watch in it and shoved it away is his dresser. He really didn't need to know the time that badly. Hopefully, the smell would dissipate within a day or so.

Probably smells as nice as you do. You've only had one bath in the last four years. They'll start to call you Dirty Harry at school if you don't wash more often.

Great happiness rested in Harry's heart. Lupin was returning; he had only two days left with the Dursleys; he received some great gifts from his friends; and he could just feel that the day would be great. Great, even though Sophie would be coming around to see Dudley that afternoon. He flopped back on his bed and gazed through the window at the orange street lamps. He might've fallen asleep, but it was doubtful. The next thing he remembered was a great white something swooping down onto the foot of the bed and feeling a sharp peck on his foot.

'Mwerf... Hedwig, is that you?' Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes at the bright sunlight that was now flooding his room. His owl hooted harshly. 'Be quiet, Hedwig, you'll wake the Dursleys. What do you have?' He noticed the Daily Prophet next to the owl. 'Where did you get that? Where's the delivery owl?' He unfolded it and his eyes fell upon the large, black front-page headline.

Sirius Black, Captured At Last.

Perhaps I should end the chapter here. A nice cliffhanger, those always go over well. Honestly, I don't know how I made it this far. How the hell did JK do it? I've still got another twenty chapters to go, and still no plot line! I only know the title. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Yea, I really get a lot of inspiration from that. Why, oh why did I have to get stuck with this job? And Scholastic just called to say I can't take all the liberties I want, like making Snape get naked and stuff. Got to stick to how it was before, Potter's the hero, Snape is a bad, bad man who is mean to poor Potter. Honestly