Harry Potter and the Legend of the Phoenix
A/N: This place is called fanfiction.net for a reason! I own none of the characters
presented in this little ol' piece of mine, they're all the creation of J. K. Rowling. This is my unofficial sequel to GoF. BTW, if I get something wrong, it's because I don't have the HP books with me at present. Also, if I decide to do chapters, remember....I'm a high school student with a job. I've got other stuff to do. Don't send death threats if parts are slow in coming. 2/18/01
Chapter One
Of Pimples and Hail
The weather surrounding Privet Drive was not the average, mundane fog or rain. In fact, it was anything but. Hail bulleted down in massive waves, and small tornadoes tore at the simple homes and well-manicured lawns. In the black of night, the small projectiles gleamed in the moonlight. It seemed, to the untrained eye, that this disorder was centralized on only this particular part of the suburbs, but, to those who knew best, it seemed to hail and shriek the hardest at a certain window on 4 Privet Drive.
Harry Potter brought his hands up over his ears to muffle the sound of hail against the house. His one window was barred up again, as Uncle Vernon had finally realized that the much talked about infamous Sirius Black was a complete no show. He was, Harry suspected, beginning to test the validity of the letters he received from his godfather as well. Any day now, Harry would have to move back to the cupboard under the stairs. Harry winced in pain as an occasionalpiece of unusually large hail rattled the bars. The glass had long since shattered room where the first bit of ice had chanced to hit, but, for some reason, nothing, not even the glass, had fallen into his meager bedroom, nor had the wind.
He snuggled deeper into the covers of his bed and adjusted the angle of his flashlight. "Newt eyes are especially useful for.....er...." Hastily, is hand reached from under his covers and grabbed his potions book from under his pillow. He was flipping through the book when the flashlight gave one last, valiant beam, before faltering and dying. "Damn it!" he cursed. It had taken a fair amount of sneaking to find a muggle flashlight and muggle batteries. And now, he had no way of finishing his Potions homework, a five foot long report on the various uses of newt eyes and it's magical qualities. Professor Snape, the Potions Master, was going to have a field day when his least-liked student turned in five inches of unintelligible scrawl.
Harry closed his eyes in exasperation and brought his hands up in the darkness. "What I wouldn't do for a light..." he thought to himself. Feeling a warm rosy glow against his eyelids, he opened his eyes and gasped. The flashlight had miraculously revived. "Guess the batteries aren't as dead as I thought they were." he murmured to himself and he again immersed himself in newt eyes. It was hours later when Harry, exhausted, finished his report. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Inadvertently, he glanced at the clock by his bed.
12:01am.
He had been fifteen years old for a whole minute. Yawning, he flopped down, nuzzling his pillow. He was on the verge of sleep when he heard a tapping against bars. It sounded different from the usual pitter-pat of hail. "What could that be?" Harry thought quizzically. He focused on the window and saw something dart between the bars. It was Pig, Ron's tiny, hyper owl. The poor thing looked beat, and the small feathery creature shuddered and collapsed in Harry's hand. A battered letter was tied to it's leg. Removing the letter, he gently put a finger to Pig's chest, and was relieved to feel a heartbeat. He brought it quickly to the relative comfort of Hedgwig's cage, and was glad to see Hedgwig take Pig into her care without complaint.
He looked down at the letter in his hand. It lay heavily against his palm. It had to be at least twice Pig's weight. Harry looked at Pig with renewed respect and tore the envelope. It was clean and dry on the inside, leading Harry to believe that Mr. or Mrs. Weasely had put a charm it. He gasped when he unfolded it. It had to be at least twenty feet long, and written in tiny writing too.
It read:
Dear Harry,
Ron here. You won't believe what has happened! You're front page news in the Daily Prophet, and Professor Dumbledore and Fudge are here, in our house, talking about you. I was listening at the door when I heard Dumbledore say you were isolated in that house of yours (and with muggles!) Turns out, that freak storm over your street is You-Know-Who's work. He is trying to keep the ministry and Dumbledore away from you, and the hail isn't ordinary hail, it's enchanted to form a barrier. No good wizard can stand it. Dumbledore says it's very old, dark magic and impossible to break. Fortunately, a curse like that can't last longer than a few days. We'll get you out buddy! Wait....Dumbledore's coming! Oh. He wants to use Pig. Says Pig is small and agile enough to make it through the hail to you. He wants to send you something. I'll see you soon Harry! Dumbledore will get you out. Oh yeah, before I forget, Hermione says "hi". She's been trying to owl you for days I hear.
RON
"Wow," thought Harry, looking out into the darkness. "So, that stuff is dangerous, is it?" He walked to the window and put out his hand. Remembering Ron's warning, he put on the thickest gloves he could find. He caught a chunk of ice and brought it in, careful not to touch it. Ron was right. Now that he was seeing one close up, it did look out of the ordinary. It was a faint purple color, and seemed to glow, though that might have been from the flashlight Harry held. He prodded it once more with a gloved finger. It didn't do anything. Harry returned to the rest of his letter.
Harry,
I trust Ron filled you in on the hail? Good. I thought I heard someone sneeze at the door. Don't touch it, Harry. If it doesn't kill you, you'll probably be in considerable pain instead. Remember how I told you that you were safest with your relatives? This might not be true anymore. Voldemort is more powerful then ever. Your blood running in his body has somehow broken the charm I erected years ago. I and the other professors have been putting protective charms on your house so stay there, it's the safest place to be. And Harry, I want you to know that we're doing everything possible to help you. You'll still be coming to Hogwarts this year. Enclosed, you'll find your usual official letter and a list of supplies. Mrs. Weasely will be getting your supplies for you, owing to your unusual predicament. Oh yes, and I thought you'd like to know that Hermione Granger has been chosen as prefect for your house.
Professor Dumbledore
Headmaster
Indeed, Harry discovered his usual green letter from Hogwarts, and a list of supplies. Hermione? A prefect? No surprise there. Harry again looked at the piece of hail. It hadn't melted. "Harry!" screamed Aunt Petunia. Surprised, Harry saw that the sun had been up for a while. Jumping out of bed, he raced to the door before his Aunt could shout again.
"Lookie Mom! Harry has a pimple!" squealed Dudley, the Dursely's son. Dursely was so fat now that he had to walk sideways through the doors in the house. Apparently, the diet hadn't worked out. Maybe because Dudley was sneaking into town and using his vast amounts of allowance money to buy ice-creams, cakes, and the like. Harry passed a hand over his face and found nothing. He looked at Dudley. "No Harry," said Mrs. Dursely, smiling perhaps for the first time in weeks. "A big fat red one, on your nose." With this, the Durselys burst out laughing as Harry felt the tip of his nose and discovered they were right. His face burned. "Well," thought Harry, "at least they're not accusing me of this storm, which really is my fault, in a way."
Mr. Dursely walked in, a dark scowl on his face. "Look at this storm!" He bellowed, shooting accusing looks in Harry's general direction. "I'll never be able to drive in this hail.... wait a minute." Uncle Vernon's face had gone pasty white. "Oh my God! Petunia! Did I put the car in the garage yesterday?" "No," said Aunt Petunia serenely. "I remember you leaving the car in the driveway to shout at that pesky neighbor from next door... oh!" her eyes widened as well. They both rushed to the window to find the car, now a broken heap, still receiving damaging hits from the hail.
"We can still save it! Hurry Petunia, lets get out there and push it into the garage..." Aunt Petunia backed away. "I'm not going out in this weather!" She sat down resolutely on a chair. "Dudley...?" beseeched Uncle Vernon. Dudley's beady little eyes darted from side to side and rested on Harry's gangly form, hunched up in a corner. With a calculating smile, he said, "Take Harry, Dad! This is probably his fault. Him and his friends." "You're absolutely right, Dudley!" said Uncle Vernon proudly. "Just what I was about to say. Harry, go out," Uncle Vernon was hit by a rare spark of thought, "all by yourself! Yes, push that car in on your own. And don't use the M word." He shuddered as he said it. All references to magic was prohibited in the Dursley household.
Harry found himself being pushed toward the door by eager hands. "No!" yelled Harry as he struggled to fight against the Dursleys. "You don't understand. You're about to commit murder!" Uncle Vernon cackled. "Sure, Harry," he said sarcastically. "We're about to kill you, huh? Like how you said your godfather was Sirius Black?" The room erupted in laughter. "Get out there, pimple boy, and push the car into the garage! While you're at it, maybe you can shovel the walk too...." There was another wave of laughter, and, against his will, Harry found himself holding desperately to the door frame.
The hail was mere inches from his skin.... It was impossible, but was the door frame actually getting smaller? It was! The harder the Dursleys tried to push him out the door and into the hail, the faster the door shrank. It didn't take long. The door was now the size of a mousehole and it sould've been sheer lunacy for the Durseys to try and shove anything out of it.
Defeated and angry, Uncle Vernon shouted, "You did that magic thing again, didn't you, boy? There is to be NO MAGIC IN THIS HOUSE AS LONG AS I LIVE!" Aunt Petunia shrank in fear each time Uncle Vernon said "magic." "I'll teach you right... just not now. I have to save my car." With a purple face, Uncle Vernon stomped out to the living room to call up a tow truck, or
anything, really, that could take his car away to safety. "Go to your room!" gasped Aunt Petunia as she too raced out of the room.
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He was still in shock at how close he'd come to death. And at the hands of the Dursleys, not even Voldemort. Harry sighed as he walked into his room, his thoughts still on Voldemort. This was probably why he never noticed Dudley, previously unaccounted for in the doorframe fiasco, grin as he picked up the charmed piece of ice Harry had brought in through the window, and hurl it at him.
Harry, out of reflex, caught the thing thrown at him without a thought, and, with horror, realized what it was. He closed his eyes, prepared to die ... and nothing happened. Blinking in surprise, Harry fingered the ice more, and found he was experiencing nothing, not even a tingle. The ice seemed to glow a more brilliant purple, before dying out
and turning black. Dudley, unaware of the magnitude of what he had just done, cried, "Ew! You're doing the magic thing again! Stop making the ice all weird....Mom! Dad!" and Dudley ran out of the room.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. Magical hail or not, he was getting out this house. He yanked at the secret floor board under his bed, and, with admirable speed, emptied out his pillowcase and stuffed his letters, books, homework, and extra food into it. With Hedgwig's cage in hand, and a suitcase in the other, he rushed down the stairs, even as he heard Dudley begin to tattle to his father. Reaching the cupboard where the Dursleys hid his magical things at the beginning of each and every summer, he emptied it of his belongings. The scene was reminiscent of when, two years ago, he had stormed out of the house and to the Knight Bus.
His anger and shock provided him with unprecedented power. Everything seemed to happen without a wand or conscious thought. Doors exploded before him. The suitcase and cage should've weighed him down, but he felt as if nothing could deter him from leaving this disgusting hell hole. "Oh my...." screamed Aunt Petunia as Harry blew past.
"Harry!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, "Don't you DARE ever come back to my home! You ungrateful little..." he, fortunately, never finished his sentence as, with a glare, Harry unknowingly sent his uncle flying toward the other side of the room. The door he had shrunk in desperation grew back and exploded before him. The hail was now about him.
Hazily, Harry realized he should now have been stoned by the hail, but nothing happened. He was completely unharmed. He had erected a shield around himself and his things with raw power. However, Harry was still unaware of what he had done. He walked briskly until he was past the hail storm. Fumbling, he reached deep into his bag for his unused wand to flag down the knight bus.
Chapter Two
The Knight Bus
Another Trip to the Underground
"What's with you?" said the new driver with a careless nod in Harry's direction. Harry saw, with relief, that the driver from his last trip was nowhere to be found. Here, again, he could hide his identity.
"Nothing much," lied Harry easily and he prepared to lug his things into the bus. With a start, he realized that his bags and Hedgwig's cage were floating by his side. They fell with a thump at Harry's shocked gaze. Hedgwig and Pig let out painful hoots. Luckily, the driver noticed none of this. He was intensely interested in the weather, not Harry. "Lookie boy! A hail storm. So unexpected!" He goggled at the dark clouds. "I think I read something about a hail storm in the Daily Prophet! I wish I could remember..." The bus driver scratched his head. Harry flattened his bangs and nodded. "Oh! How impolite of me! My name is Neil! I'll help you with those things." Neil jumped lightly off the bus and helped Harry carry his things inside. Taking one last look at the storm, he whistled and shut the door.
Once inside, Harry looked around. He was the sole passenger. "You're quite lucky you didn't have to go through the storm," said Neil as if he had suddenly remembered something. Harry broke out in a cold sweat. Ron had mentioned something about a newspaper.... Neil looked at him suspiciously. Harry gulped. "Come on, buddy, let's have it." Neil tapped his foot impatiently. So he knew! Harry was about to blab it all, the freak weather, Dumbledore's message, everything, when Neil held out his hand. Oh! A light suddenly flickered in Harry's brain. Reaching deep into his suitcase, he produced the required number of silver sickles and said, "Diagon Alley, please." "There now! Thought you could try and get a free ride outta me..." Neil grumbled to himself.
"As I was saying," Neil said, all smiles once more. "Lucky you didn't have to go through that hail. You do look like a weak thing." Harry took a good look at himself. Neil probably thought he had been walking by, and, wanting to avoid the storm, and had hitched a ride. His dry clothes and unrumpled appearance seemed to attest to that. He also noticed a few other things about himself. Besides the nasty pimple Dudley had pointed out, he had grown up. No longer small and undersized for his age, he was, instead, gangly and tall. He was still a lightweight, but he could feel muscles building up in his arms and legs. He glanced at his hands and saw they were white. He must be really pale then. That would explain why Neil thought him weak.
Harry suddenly laughed to himself as it all clicked. Of course! The pimples, the sudden growth spurt... he was going through puberty! And it was his birthday. "So..." said Neil as he maneuvered the bus with all the skill and grace of a blind elephant. "What's your name? Whatcha doin' in these muggle parts?" Harry racked his brain. He couldn't very well be Neville Longbottom again. The similarity between the bus driver's name and Nevil's would lead him to believe it had been hastily made-up. "Umm....my name is....Draco Malfoy!" "Arggh!" thought Harry. Where did that come from?
The bus driver recoiled. "Malfoy?! Let's just say I've heard a thing or two about you guys." he chuckled nervously. "Of course, it's all good Mr. Malfoy..." he ranted and then smartly fell quiet.
The ride was progressing in this silent fashion when a siren sounded throughout the bus. "Sorry Mr. Malfoy," babbled Neil. "It seems the Ministry Task Force is pulling us aside. I'm sure it's nothing! Nothing to do with you! No..." he continued along this vein, even as a sleek black car pulled up beside them.
"Harry? Harry! You there?" cried a familiar voice. "Mr. Weasely?" questioned Harry. This was unbelievable! But then, a lot had happened today that was like that. He didn't want to think about it. "Harry?" the bus driver repeated, confused. 'There's no Harry here Mr. Ministry-guy Sir. There's only," his voice dropped into a theatrical whisper, "a Malfoy!"
"No," said Ron's father positively. "The young man you have sitting in your bus is Harry Potter!" Harry raced up to Mr. Weasely. "How did you find me?!" he shouted excitedly. Neil slumped in his chair.
"Harry...Potter?" he said in a daze. "I remember now! There was an article in the Daily Prophet about you, warning us about that hail storm .... It really is you then! And...you didn't flag me down because you wanted to avoid the hail...you...you walked right through it! Oh my, oh my....." Harry was surprised. Neil wasn't as dense as he had formerly appeared.
"Come on Harry," said Mr. Weasely. "Let's get you someplace safe!"
A/N: This place is called fanfiction.net for a reason! I own none of the characters
presented in this little ol' piece of mine, they're all the creation of J. K. Rowling. This is my unofficial sequel to GoF. BTW, if I get something wrong, it's because I don't have the HP books with me at present. Also, if I decide to do chapters, remember....I'm a high school student with a job. I've got other stuff to do. Don't send death threats if parts are slow in coming. 2/18/01
Chapter One
Of Pimples and Hail
The weather surrounding Privet Drive was not the average, mundane fog or rain. In fact, it was anything but. Hail bulleted down in massive waves, and small tornadoes tore at the simple homes and well-manicured lawns. In the black of night, the small projectiles gleamed in the moonlight. It seemed, to the untrained eye, that this disorder was centralized on only this particular part of the suburbs, but, to those who knew best, it seemed to hail and shriek the hardest at a certain window on 4 Privet Drive.
Harry Potter brought his hands up over his ears to muffle the sound of hail against the house. His one window was barred up again, as Uncle Vernon had finally realized that the much talked about infamous Sirius Black was a complete no show. He was, Harry suspected, beginning to test the validity of the letters he received from his godfather as well. Any day now, Harry would have to move back to the cupboard under the stairs. Harry winced in pain as an occasionalpiece of unusually large hail rattled the bars. The glass had long since shattered room where the first bit of ice had chanced to hit, but, for some reason, nothing, not even the glass, had fallen into his meager bedroom, nor had the wind.
He snuggled deeper into the covers of his bed and adjusted the angle of his flashlight. "Newt eyes are especially useful for.....er...." Hastily, is hand reached from under his covers and grabbed his potions book from under his pillow. He was flipping through the book when the flashlight gave one last, valiant beam, before faltering and dying. "Damn it!" he cursed. It had taken a fair amount of sneaking to find a muggle flashlight and muggle batteries. And now, he had no way of finishing his Potions homework, a five foot long report on the various uses of newt eyes and it's magical qualities. Professor Snape, the Potions Master, was going to have a field day when his least-liked student turned in five inches of unintelligible scrawl.
Harry closed his eyes in exasperation and brought his hands up in the darkness. "What I wouldn't do for a light..." he thought to himself. Feeling a warm rosy glow against his eyelids, he opened his eyes and gasped. The flashlight had miraculously revived. "Guess the batteries aren't as dead as I thought they were." he murmured to himself and he again immersed himself in newt eyes. It was hours later when Harry, exhausted, finished his report. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Inadvertently, he glanced at the clock by his bed.
12:01am.
He had been fifteen years old for a whole minute. Yawning, he flopped down, nuzzling his pillow. He was on the verge of sleep when he heard a tapping against bars. It sounded different from the usual pitter-pat of hail. "What could that be?" Harry thought quizzically. He focused on the window and saw something dart between the bars. It was Pig, Ron's tiny, hyper owl. The poor thing looked beat, and the small feathery creature shuddered and collapsed in Harry's hand. A battered letter was tied to it's leg. Removing the letter, he gently put a finger to Pig's chest, and was relieved to feel a heartbeat. He brought it quickly to the relative comfort of Hedgwig's cage, and was glad to see Hedgwig take Pig into her care without complaint.
He looked down at the letter in his hand. It lay heavily against his palm. It had to be at least twice Pig's weight. Harry looked at Pig with renewed respect and tore the envelope. It was clean and dry on the inside, leading Harry to believe that Mr. or Mrs. Weasely had put a charm it. He gasped when he unfolded it. It had to be at least twenty feet long, and written in tiny writing too.
It read:
Dear Harry,
Ron here. You won't believe what has happened! You're front page news in the Daily Prophet, and Professor Dumbledore and Fudge are here, in our house, talking about you. I was listening at the door when I heard Dumbledore say you were isolated in that house of yours (and with muggles!) Turns out, that freak storm over your street is You-Know-Who's work. He is trying to keep the ministry and Dumbledore away from you, and the hail isn't ordinary hail, it's enchanted to form a barrier. No good wizard can stand it. Dumbledore says it's very old, dark magic and impossible to break. Fortunately, a curse like that can't last longer than a few days. We'll get you out buddy! Wait....Dumbledore's coming! Oh. He wants to use Pig. Says Pig is small and agile enough to make it through the hail to you. He wants to send you something. I'll see you soon Harry! Dumbledore will get you out. Oh yeah, before I forget, Hermione says "hi". She's been trying to owl you for days I hear.
RON
"Wow," thought Harry, looking out into the darkness. "So, that stuff is dangerous, is it?" He walked to the window and put out his hand. Remembering Ron's warning, he put on the thickest gloves he could find. He caught a chunk of ice and brought it in, careful not to touch it. Ron was right. Now that he was seeing one close up, it did look out of the ordinary. It was a faint purple color, and seemed to glow, though that might have been from the flashlight Harry held. He prodded it once more with a gloved finger. It didn't do anything. Harry returned to the rest of his letter.
Harry,
I trust Ron filled you in on the hail? Good. I thought I heard someone sneeze at the door. Don't touch it, Harry. If it doesn't kill you, you'll probably be in considerable pain instead. Remember how I told you that you were safest with your relatives? This might not be true anymore. Voldemort is more powerful then ever. Your blood running in his body has somehow broken the charm I erected years ago. I and the other professors have been putting protective charms on your house so stay there, it's the safest place to be. And Harry, I want you to know that we're doing everything possible to help you. You'll still be coming to Hogwarts this year. Enclosed, you'll find your usual official letter and a list of supplies. Mrs. Weasely will be getting your supplies for you, owing to your unusual predicament. Oh yes, and I thought you'd like to know that Hermione Granger has been chosen as prefect for your house.
Professor Dumbledore
Headmaster
Indeed, Harry discovered his usual green letter from Hogwarts, and a list of supplies. Hermione? A prefect? No surprise there. Harry again looked at the piece of hail. It hadn't melted. "Harry!" screamed Aunt Petunia. Surprised, Harry saw that the sun had been up for a while. Jumping out of bed, he raced to the door before his Aunt could shout again.
"Lookie Mom! Harry has a pimple!" squealed Dudley, the Dursely's son. Dursely was so fat now that he had to walk sideways through the doors in the house. Apparently, the diet hadn't worked out. Maybe because Dudley was sneaking into town and using his vast amounts of allowance money to buy ice-creams, cakes, and the like. Harry passed a hand over his face and found nothing. He looked at Dudley. "No Harry," said Mrs. Dursely, smiling perhaps for the first time in weeks. "A big fat red one, on your nose." With this, the Durselys burst out laughing as Harry felt the tip of his nose and discovered they were right. His face burned. "Well," thought Harry, "at least they're not accusing me of this storm, which really is my fault, in a way."
Mr. Dursely walked in, a dark scowl on his face. "Look at this storm!" He bellowed, shooting accusing looks in Harry's general direction. "I'll never be able to drive in this hail.... wait a minute." Uncle Vernon's face had gone pasty white. "Oh my God! Petunia! Did I put the car in the garage yesterday?" "No," said Aunt Petunia serenely. "I remember you leaving the car in the driveway to shout at that pesky neighbor from next door... oh!" her eyes widened as well. They both rushed to the window to find the car, now a broken heap, still receiving damaging hits from the hail.
"We can still save it! Hurry Petunia, lets get out there and push it into the garage..." Aunt Petunia backed away. "I'm not going out in this weather!" She sat down resolutely on a chair. "Dudley...?" beseeched Uncle Vernon. Dudley's beady little eyes darted from side to side and rested on Harry's gangly form, hunched up in a corner. With a calculating smile, he said, "Take Harry, Dad! This is probably his fault. Him and his friends." "You're absolutely right, Dudley!" said Uncle Vernon proudly. "Just what I was about to say. Harry, go out," Uncle Vernon was hit by a rare spark of thought, "all by yourself! Yes, push that car in on your own. And don't use the M word." He shuddered as he said it. All references to magic was prohibited in the Dursley household.
Harry found himself being pushed toward the door by eager hands. "No!" yelled Harry as he struggled to fight against the Dursleys. "You don't understand. You're about to commit murder!" Uncle Vernon cackled. "Sure, Harry," he said sarcastically. "We're about to kill you, huh? Like how you said your godfather was Sirius Black?" The room erupted in laughter. "Get out there, pimple boy, and push the car into the garage! While you're at it, maybe you can shovel the walk too...." There was another wave of laughter, and, against his will, Harry found himself holding desperately to the door frame.
The hail was mere inches from his skin.... It was impossible, but was the door frame actually getting smaller? It was! The harder the Dursleys tried to push him out the door and into the hail, the faster the door shrank. It didn't take long. The door was now the size of a mousehole and it sould've been sheer lunacy for the Durseys to try and shove anything out of it.
Defeated and angry, Uncle Vernon shouted, "You did that magic thing again, didn't you, boy? There is to be NO MAGIC IN THIS HOUSE AS LONG AS I LIVE!" Aunt Petunia shrank in fear each time Uncle Vernon said "magic." "I'll teach you right... just not now. I have to save my car." With a purple face, Uncle Vernon stomped out to the living room to call up a tow truck, or
anything, really, that could take his car away to safety. "Go to your room!" gasped Aunt Petunia as she too raced out of the room.
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He was still in shock at how close he'd come to death. And at the hands of the Dursleys, not even Voldemort. Harry sighed as he walked into his room, his thoughts still on Voldemort. This was probably why he never noticed Dudley, previously unaccounted for in the doorframe fiasco, grin as he picked up the charmed piece of ice Harry had brought in through the window, and hurl it at him.
Harry, out of reflex, caught the thing thrown at him without a thought, and, with horror, realized what it was. He closed his eyes, prepared to die ... and nothing happened. Blinking in surprise, Harry fingered the ice more, and found he was experiencing nothing, not even a tingle. The ice seemed to glow a more brilliant purple, before dying out
and turning black. Dudley, unaware of the magnitude of what he had just done, cried, "Ew! You're doing the magic thing again! Stop making the ice all weird....Mom! Dad!" and Dudley ran out of the room.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. Magical hail or not, he was getting out this house. He yanked at the secret floor board under his bed, and, with admirable speed, emptied out his pillowcase and stuffed his letters, books, homework, and extra food into it. With Hedgwig's cage in hand, and a suitcase in the other, he rushed down the stairs, even as he heard Dudley begin to tattle to his father. Reaching the cupboard where the Dursleys hid his magical things at the beginning of each and every summer, he emptied it of his belongings. The scene was reminiscent of when, two years ago, he had stormed out of the house and to the Knight Bus.
His anger and shock provided him with unprecedented power. Everything seemed to happen without a wand or conscious thought. Doors exploded before him. The suitcase and cage should've weighed him down, but he felt as if nothing could deter him from leaving this disgusting hell hole. "Oh my...." screamed Aunt Petunia as Harry blew past.
"Harry!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, "Don't you DARE ever come back to my home! You ungrateful little..." he, fortunately, never finished his sentence as, with a glare, Harry unknowingly sent his uncle flying toward the other side of the room. The door he had shrunk in desperation grew back and exploded before him. The hail was now about him.
Hazily, Harry realized he should now have been stoned by the hail, but nothing happened. He was completely unharmed. He had erected a shield around himself and his things with raw power. However, Harry was still unaware of what he had done. He walked briskly until he was past the hail storm. Fumbling, he reached deep into his bag for his unused wand to flag down the knight bus.
Chapter Two
The Knight Bus
Another Trip to the Underground
"What's with you?" said the new driver with a careless nod in Harry's direction. Harry saw, with relief, that the driver from his last trip was nowhere to be found. Here, again, he could hide his identity.
"Nothing much," lied Harry easily and he prepared to lug his things into the bus. With a start, he realized that his bags and Hedgwig's cage were floating by his side. They fell with a thump at Harry's shocked gaze. Hedgwig and Pig let out painful hoots. Luckily, the driver noticed none of this. He was intensely interested in the weather, not Harry. "Lookie boy! A hail storm. So unexpected!" He goggled at the dark clouds. "I think I read something about a hail storm in the Daily Prophet! I wish I could remember..." The bus driver scratched his head. Harry flattened his bangs and nodded. "Oh! How impolite of me! My name is Neil! I'll help you with those things." Neil jumped lightly off the bus and helped Harry carry his things inside. Taking one last look at the storm, he whistled and shut the door.
Once inside, Harry looked around. He was the sole passenger. "You're quite lucky you didn't have to go through the storm," said Neil as if he had suddenly remembered something. Harry broke out in a cold sweat. Ron had mentioned something about a newspaper.... Neil looked at him suspiciously. Harry gulped. "Come on, buddy, let's have it." Neil tapped his foot impatiently. So he knew! Harry was about to blab it all, the freak weather, Dumbledore's message, everything, when Neil held out his hand. Oh! A light suddenly flickered in Harry's brain. Reaching deep into his suitcase, he produced the required number of silver sickles and said, "Diagon Alley, please." "There now! Thought you could try and get a free ride outta me..." Neil grumbled to himself.
"As I was saying," Neil said, all smiles once more. "Lucky you didn't have to go through that hail. You do look like a weak thing." Harry took a good look at himself. Neil probably thought he had been walking by, and, wanting to avoid the storm, and had hitched a ride. His dry clothes and unrumpled appearance seemed to attest to that. He also noticed a few other things about himself. Besides the nasty pimple Dudley had pointed out, he had grown up. No longer small and undersized for his age, he was, instead, gangly and tall. He was still a lightweight, but he could feel muscles building up in his arms and legs. He glanced at his hands and saw they were white. He must be really pale then. That would explain why Neil thought him weak.
Harry suddenly laughed to himself as it all clicked. Of course! The pimples, the sudden growth spurt... he was going through puberty! And it was his birthday. "So..." said Neil as he maneuvered the bus with all the skill and grace of a blind elephant. "What's your name? Whatcha doin' in these muggle parts?" Harry racked his brain. He couldn't very well be Neville Longbottom again. The similarity between the bus driver's name and Nevil's would lead him to believe it had been hastily made-up. "Umm....my name is....Draco Malfoy!" "Arggh!" thought Harry. Where did that come from?
The bus driver recoiled. "Malfoy?! Let's just say I've heard a thing or two about you guys." he chuckled nervously. "Of course, it's all good Mr. Malfoy..." he ranted and then smartly fell quiet.
The ride was progressing in this silent fashion when a siren sounded throughout the bus. "Sorry Mr. Malfoy," babbled Neil. "It seems the Ministry Task Force is pulling us aside. I'm sure it's nothing! Nothing to do with you! No..." he continued along this vein, even as a sleek black car pulled up beside them.
"Harry? Harry! You there?" cried a familiar voice. "Mr. Weasely?" questioned Harry. This was unbelievable! But then, a lot had happened today that was like that. He didn't want to think about it. "Harry?" the bus driver repeated, confused. 'There's no Harry here Mr. Ministry-guy Sir. There's only," his voice dropped into a theatrical whisper, "a Malfoy!"
"No," said Ron's father positively. "The young man you have sitting in your bus is Harry Potter!" Harry raced up to Mr. Weasely. "How did you find me?!" he shouted excitedly. Neil slumped in his chair.
"Harry...Potter?" he said in a daze. "I remember now! There was an article in the Daily Prophet about you, warning us about that hail storm .... It really is you then! And...you didn't flag me down because you wanted to avoid the hail...you...you walked right through it! Oh my, oh my....." Harry was surprised. Neil wasn't as dense as he had formerly appeared.
"Come on Harry," said Mr. Weasely. "Let's get you someplace safe!"