Harry Potter awoke with a start, his bright green eyes watering and his lightning scar hurting. It happened again. He had a dream about Voldemort. About Voldemort, attempting to kill him again. Harry let out a sigh and reached to his bedside table for his glasses in the darkness. He slipped them on and glanced over at his digital clock, which glowered 6:30am at him.
Harry kicked off his thick blanket, switched his lamp on, and pulled on his socks, still thinking about the dream. Voldemort had brought him to his lair and he was standing over him with a knife...Harry had awoken from the dream right when Voldemort had raised the knife...
After fitting on his socks, he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing a bit louder than usual. The nightmare had been extremely scary and it was difficult to forget about it so quickly.
Suddenly, the image of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's pet phoenix, came into Harry's mind. Professor Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was also the greatest sorcerer in the world. Harry was suddenly confused. Why was Fawkes coming into his mind now? He shook his head violently to remove the image from view and tip-toed silently out his room down the stairs with a hungry look.
arry usually had a bad breakfast. But maybe today, he didn't have to eat such a pitiful breakfast...if he was quiet enough to make it downstairs.
Harry jumped the last step, which creaked every time you stepped on it. He landed softly onto the kitchen floor and walked ever-so-carefully to the refigerator and pulled it open. The sight seemed like a dream to him; he had seen these foods before, of course, but had never had the chance to eat them...now those chances were about to change, or so he thought --
"HARRY POTTER!!" yelled a low but shrill voice. Harry gulped and quickly slammed the refigerator shut as his usually-purple-faced and neckless Uncle Vernon came running downstairs angrily. He loomed over Harry, who had a look of fright.
"What -- on -- earth -- are -- you -- doing?!" spat Uncle Vernon, breathing both heavily and angrily. Harry cringed as the voice rang loudly in his ears.
"I...I was just c-coming down f-f-for some break --"
"BREAKFAST?" roared Uncle Vernon, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Breakfast, without even asking?!"
Harry felt a stab of annoyance. He lived here. Here, in number four, Privet Drive. It didn't matter if he didn't live freely here, but he should have at least been able to have just a little breakfast without asking. He drew in a breath and said, rubbing his painful scar, "I only wanted a little --"
"LITTLE BIT OR NOT!" said Uncle Vernon as if Harry had destroyed the house. "I will not tolerate your behaviour!" This statement did not make sense to Harry.
"My behaviour? But what did I do?"
Uncle Vernon snorted and sat down. He gave Harry a look as if he were saying, "You know exactly what you did." Harry sighed. He was expecting a punishment now. Uncle Vernon looked like he was thinking -- undoubtedly about what Harry's punishment should be. His eyes fixed on the dirty dishes in the sink. Harry darted to the sink before Uncle Vernon had said one word.
"I know I have to wash the dishes," said Harry, grabbing a dish and turning on the faucet. Uncle Vernon had a very, very forced smile plastered on his face, but did not say anything. He stood up from his seat and walked back upstairs.
Harry had finished with the pile of dishes around 7:00am. The stack of dishes had been very tall -- about 2 feet, unusually like other households that had piled up dishes. He would have been finished much earlier if he had used magic, but using magic in the non-magical (Muggle) world was strictly forbidden.
Harry sighed boredly and sat down at the kitchen table. His Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and his cousin, Dudley, were still asleep. Harry would have decided to go back to sleep also, but he was now wide awake. He realized he hadn't brushed his teeth yet, so he dashed up to the bathroom and rapidly brushed them well. As Harry was rinsing his mouth of toothpaste with water, he looked up in the mirror, and once again, he saw, or was imagining, the image of Fawkes the Phoenix.
Harry kicked off his thick blanket, switched his lamp on, and pulled on his socks, still thinking about the dream. Voldemort had brought him to his lair and he was standing over him with a knife...Harry had awoken from the dream right when Voldemort had raised the knife...
After fitting on his socks, he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing a bit louder than usual. The nightmare had been extremely scary and it was difficult to forget about it so quickly.
Suddenly, the image of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's pet phoenix, came into Harry's mind. Professor Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was also the greatest sorcerer in the world. Harry was suddenly confused. Why was Fawkes coming into his mind now? He shook his head violently to remove the image from view and tip-toed silently out his room down the stairs with a hungry look.
arry usually had a bad breakfast. But maybe today, he didn't have to eat such a pitiful breakfast...if he was quiet enough to make it downstairs.
Harry jumped the last step, which creaked every time you stepped on it. He landed softly onto the kitchen floor and walked ever-so-carefully to the refigerator and pulled it open. The sight seemed like a dream to him; he had seen these foods before, of course, but had never had the chance to eat them...now those chances were about to change, or so he thought --
"HARRY POTTER!!" yelled a low but shrill voice. Harry gulped and quickly slammed the refigerator shut as his usually-purple-faced and neckless Uncle Vernon came running downstairs angrily. He loomed over Harry, who had a look of fright.
"What -- on -- earth -- are -- you -- doing?!" spat Uncle Vernon, breathing both heavily and angrily. Harry cringed as the voice rang loudly in his ears.
"I...I was just c-coming down f-f-for some break --"
"BREAKFAST?" roared Uncle Vernon, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Breakfast, without even asking?!"
Harry felt a stab of annoyance. He lived here. Here, in number four, Privet Drive. It didn't matter if he didn't live freely here, but he should have at least been able to have just a little breakfast without asking. He drew in a breath and said, rubbing his painful scar, "I only wanted a little --"
"LITTLE BIT OR NOT!" said Uncle Vernon as if Harry had destroyed the house. "I will not tolerate your behaviour!" This statement did not make sense to Harry.
"My behaviour? But what did I do?"
Uncle Vernon snorted and sat down. He gave Harry a look as if he were saying, "You know exactly what you did." Harry sighed. He was expecting a punishment now. Uncle Vernon looked like he was thinking -- undoubtedly about what Harry's punishment should be. His eyes fixed on the dirty dishes in the sink. Harry darted to the sink before Uncle Vernon had said one word.
"I know I have to wash the dishes," said Harry, grabbing a dish and turning on the faucet. Uncle Vernon had a very, very forced smile plastered on his face, but did not say anything. He stood up from his seat and walked back upstairs.
Harry had finished with the pile of dishes around 7:00am. The stack of dishes had been very tall -- about 2 feet, unusually like other households that had piled up dishes. He would have been finished much earlier if he had used magic, but using magic in the non-magical (Muggle) world was strictly forbidden.
Harry sighed boredly and sat down at the kitchen table. His Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and his cousin, Dudley, were still asleep. Harry would have decided to go back to sleep also, but he was now wide awake. He realized he hadn't brushed his teeth yet, so he dashed up to the bathroom and rapidly brushed them well. As Harry was rinsing his mouth of toothpaste with water, he looked up in the mirror, and once again, he saw, or was imagining, the image of Fawkes the Phoenix.
