Harry Potter and the Guardian Keeper

Chapter One - Summer Surprise

Harry Potter awoke early on the morning of July 29th looking forward to the day's events. This was quite unusual, for life at number four, Privet Drive, was not a joyous one for Harry. His parents were killed when he was just a baby by Lord Voldemort, an evil wizard that craved death and power. Oh, by the way, Harry is wizard who will attend his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September. His summer had been very dreary, which had been preceded by disastrous and dark final days at Hogwarts, his haven over the past four years. It now loomed before him as something that should be dreaded; yet he was still excited when he discovered it was July 29th—two days before his birthday and the day the Weasleys would arrive to take him to the Burrow, their house, for the rest of the summer. Ron Weasley was the first friend Harry made at Hogwarts and is still the best friend he has. There is also Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch who was very smart and has helped Harry through many hazardous situations. He was eager to see her and everyone else at Hogwarts again.

As he was getting dressed he heard the TV in his aunt and uncle's room reporting several killings on the news. Only half listening, he heard the reporter say that there was no apparent cause of death, which piqued his attention.

Buttoning his oversized shirt, he slowly crept into the hallway and towards the doorway to his aunt and uncle's room. He could barely hear the man say that 'nothing had been seen like this for fourteen years' due to the conversation his uncle was carrying out with his aunt, who was pulling rollers out of her hair.

"I'm to fetch Dudley from Gordon's around half past ten," Uncle Vernon announced as he was fastening his tie.

"Yvonne Pickering invited us to dinner tonight, so don't spend too much time at work. You spend so much time there during the week, darling, why can't you stay home on Saturday morning?"

Uncle Vernon grumbled and turned away. Harry knew that he himself was the answer to that question. He often worked overtime to keep away from Harry, Aunt Petunia stopped spying on her neighbours and started taking an active part in their lives, and even Dudley stayed at his old primary school friends' houses to keep away from his own.

As he peered through the crack in the door to see the news programme, he noticed it was over and accidentally hit the door, causing it to creak.

Aunt Petunia swivelled in her seat.

"What are you doing here? Out!" she demanded, advancing on him with her styling wand. Harry turned and ran into his bedroom, closing the door.

It was the first he'd heard in a month, but he wasn't surprised. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, told him that what would come would come, and that he would have to face it when it does.

But these weren't the only killings. One week after the end of term the Daily Prophet (the wizard newsletter that he'd taken a subscription to the day he'd arrived back at Privet Drive) reported that three boys had been killed by the Killing Curse. All were fresh out of Hogwarts and had been celebrating in a Muggle pub when they unfortunately caught up with Lord Voldemort himself, or so the article says. Harry had awoken that very night with a burning pain in his scar, which Headmaster Dumbledore said happened whenever Voldemort was feeling particularly murderous.

After a good half hour he ran downstairs for breakfast, which was waiting for him cold and alone at the end of the breakfast table. He hadn't eaten with his aunt, uncle, and cousin ever since he came back home for they feared that he might put something in their food that would cause their tongues to swell, like the Weasley twins had done to Dudley the year before. Harry would gladly do it, for he hated his relatives and was in need of amusement, but there was a wizarding law that prevented any underage witch or wizard from practicing magic during the holidays.

As he ate his burnt toast, he heard a scream come from upstairs, and soon heard his Uncle Vernon yelling at the top of the lungs:

"BOY! GET UP HERE THIS INSTANT!"

Harry downed his glass of milk and took a final bite of his toast to see what had gone wrong this time. As he reached the landing of their bedroom, he saw that Aunt Petunia's hair had turned—yellow.

"What happened?" Harry asked, trying his best not to laugh.

"You tell me," Uncle Vernon scowled. "You're the only one in the house who can do this. What about that law that says you can't do magic during the holidays?"

"I didn't do anything," Harry replied flatly. He was tired of being blamed for everything that went wrong in the house.

"Do you honestly think that your aunt could've turned her own hair yellow?"

Aunt Petunia gasped softly behind Uncle Vernon, and he turned to his wife, who had half of her butter coloured hair still in curlers.

"No," She muttered in horror, "no."

"Y-y-y-y!" stuttered Uncle Vernon, pointing his finger at his wife.

"What?" Harry asked, confused by this exchange.

"Petunia," Vernon went back a step. "You—You can't be... one of them?"

"Absolutely not!" she shrieked, insulted that he would dare call her a witch. "And if you dare mention it again, I swear..."

"You can't be! You would've gotten one of those ruddy letters in the mail, you would've—"

Aunt Petunia had turned her head away. "You, you didn't get one, did you, love?"

She didn't answer.

"DID YOU?" He bellowed.

"Yes," she finally hissed, after much hesitation. "But I wasn't going to go. Burned the letter I did, and told them that they'd made a mistake, that Petunia Evans was no witch. I haven't heard from them since, so they must've realised their mistake."

"You're JOKING!" Harry shouted, suddenly finding the power to speak. "You can't be a witch!"

"You're mother was one," she replied, sounding strangely defensive. "Don't think that I ever wanted to be one. I'm not a witch. I'm NOT."

Harry couldn't believe his ears—his horrid aunt was a witch.

"What are we going to do?" Vernon cried. "Thank goodness Dudley isn't here to see his mother like this."

"Don't talk as though I asked to be like this!" She shouted.

"D-Dudley!" Vernon shouted. "Petunia, you don't think he could be like—like him?" he said with horror, pointing his thumb at Harry.

"No! There's nothing extraordinary about the boy, he's perfectly normal!"

Harry snorted.

Aunt Petunia turned on him. "If you tell anyone at that bloody school of yours, I swear you'll be left on the street come summer holiday."

Harry took the threat lightly. The only reason he was still with the Dursleys is because Dumbledore had insisted on it. You couldn't say no to the Headmaster of Hogwarts and possibly greatest wizard of all time. He had been told, however, that it was for his safety.

"Swear that you won't tell anyone!" she demanded, her saffron hair bouncing in its rollers.

"I promise," he agreed, crossing his fingers behind his back.

He wasn't going to tell Dumbledore, but he couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't tell Ron and Hermione. This was too big. He could hardly move for he was in such a state of shock.

Aunt Petunia was a witch.

Uncle Vernon had forced Harry into his bedroom, which he was accustomed to by now—he practically lived there all summer. He sat on his bed in shock. His aunt a witch... this changed everything. Then again, what did it change? She didn't want to be a witch, and it wasn't like she'd be sitting under the sorting hat with the first years come September. Yet she somehow managed to do magic after all these years. There was a sudden tapping at his bedroom window that made him jump and the bedsprings squeaked beneath him. He turned to see a strange owl fluttering on the other side of the glass. Harry opened the window and allowed the bird in, which perched itself on his bedpost. It held a letter which he removed from its leg, pulled open and read:

Dear Mr. Potter:

A second violation of the Decree of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry was reported in your residence at 7:31 AM. We hope that this was another mistake; otherwise you may be faced with a fine of 50 Galleons and expulsion from Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

His stomach was doing flip-flops. They thought that he had done the magic? What was he going to do? He had to write back and tell them his aunt was the one who had done it. But how could they believe him? As far as the Ministry were concerned his aunt was a Muggle, and there was no proof whatsoever that he hadn't performed the magic. He didn't have much time to think about it when he heard loud honking coming from the street below.

"Boy, get the door!" Uncle Vernon bellowed through the wall. He ran downstairs, though somewhat reluctantly. The Dursleys never let him answer the door—they didn't want anyone to know that he existed.

Luckily, a familiar face greeted him, other than that of one of the Dursleys' affluent friends.

"Harry!"

It was Ron Weasley.

"We came in a car this time! Dad didn't want to upset your aunt and uncle."

He was so happy to see Ron that he didn't notice the couple on the street staring at the car that seemed hold more people than humanly possible.

"He says we should hurry—he doesn't want any Muggles to see an old car holding eight people."

Harry nodded and beckoned Ron up to his room where he helped him gather his things. He was handing Ron Hedwig's cage when he noticed the barn owl was still perched on his bedpost.

"Hey, is that one of the Ministry's owls?" Ron asked, looking at the red ribbon around it's neck..

Harry shook his head with frustration, "I'll tell you when we leave, It's a long story."

Ron nodded, and giving the bird a strange look, walked down the stairs carrying Hedwig.

He lifted the lid of his trunk and searched for his bag of wizard money. He quickly paid the owl and shut the window after it flew off. The only thing left to carry down was his trunk, and soon he heard footsteps approaching and was surprised to see Mr. Weasley and Fred.

"Hello there, Harry," Mr. Weasley greeted. "Ron had a little trouble with your owl, but it's just a few claw marks, nothing to worry about. We've come to fetch your trunk."

"Thanks, it's all I've got left."

He turned to Fred, who gave him a polite smile. Last year, after winning the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had received a thousand gold Galleons in prize money, but he gave it to Fred and George to help them with their Joke Shop… and various other things. The Weasleys were very poor, mostly because of the large size of their family. Mr. Weasley and Fred hefted the trunk out of his room and downstairs, and Harry watched as they descended. Sighing he turned to his aunt an uncle's bedroom door.

"I just thought that I'd tell you that I'm leaving, and with any luck you probably won't see me again," he said through the door. Receiving no response, he shrugged and ran down the stairs, quickly shutting the door behind him.

Once the boot (which was magically made to have more room by Mr. Weasley) was filled with Harry's school things, they hopped in and set off.

Ron, Harry, Fred, and George sat in the back while Ginny sat up front with Percy and her parents. They talked about their plans for the rest of the summer and the new events happening at Hogwarts.

"This year they're having a Valentine's Ball, because everyone's parents sent owls complaining about not having their kids home for Christmas," Fred informed.

"And the Quidditch Tournament is back up..."

George trailed off a bit and everyone shifted nervously in their seats, thinking about the final days of the Triwizard Tournament, which had replaced Quidditch last year.

"Since you're going to be with us on your birthday this year, Harry," Mrs. Weasley smiled, changing the subject, "we thought we might take you to Haywick Park."

"Haywick Park?" Harry repeated. "Is that a kind of amusement park?"

"Yes, Harry, but it's a wizarding amusement park," Fred corrected excitedly.

"I've always been fascinated by Muggle amusement parks," said Mr. Weasley fondly from the wheel. "How they managed to make you fly around without magic… it's beyond me!"

Mr. Weasley is obsessed with Muggles, and is said to have a collection of electric plugs.

"Haywick Park is located just outside of Plymouth," Percy informed randomly, laying his head on the window.

"All you OK, dear?" asked his mother beside him.

"Just a little headache," he replied.

Harry turned to Ron. "What's Haywick Park like?"

"I haven't been there since I was little, but I remember there were loads of sweets, and that there was this one ride I wasn't old enough to go on, and there's even a haunted house."

"A haunted house? Like, a real one?"

"Yeah, but the ghosts are all under contract," said George, rolling his eyes. "And half of them just wave their arms and go 'Boo!'"

"The Fat Friar is scarier than those ninnies," said Fred disappointedly. The Fat Friar was the House Ghost of Hufflepuff, and he couldn't scare a pair of pink bunny slippers.

"Well, the Monstrous Maze is supposed to be fun, but you have to prove that you know the Stunning Spell to get in," Ron said with enthusiasm.

"I'd hate to have that job," said George.

"Yeah, I'm surprised the poor bloke is still alive," Fred added.

"We could have Percy's job, now that would be a blast!" George joked, slapping Percy's shoulder.

"Did Ron tell you, Harry? Percy's getting married!" Fred announced cynically.

"Yeah, congratulations, Percy," Harry said, and Percy smiled back.

"We always knew that someday someone would like you, Perce," Fred confessed.

"Yeah, but we never thought a girl would!" George joked.

"Boys, leave your brother alone!" Mrs. Weasley ordered as everyone but Percy and herself laughed. "By the way," she said to Harry, "we invited your friend Hermione to meet us at Haywick Park."

Harry couldn't wait to see Hermione again, and grinned at the thought or her enjoying something other than homework.

"Well, here we are," Mr. Weasley announced as he turned onto a long driveway that led to the Burrow. It ended halfway to their house, which loomed above them with its many stories and small garden in front that contained a variety of strange plants and a couple of unruly garden gnomes.

The Weasleys helped Harry carry his trunk and other things into the house up to Ron's room, which was at the very top beneath the attic. Once they were all settled Mr Weasley headed for the door.

"I have to take the car back to the Ministry; someone's bound to notice that it's missing." Off his wife's venomous look he quickly replied, "Just joking, just joking!"

Mrs. Weasley made them all a bit of lunch which Harry found very good, and then he and Ron set off for Ron's bedroom, where they were finally alone and Harry could tell Ron of what had happened at Privet Drive.

"You're joking!" Ron cried, after Harry had finished his story. "Your aunt… a witch?"

"She even got a letter to Hogwarts when she was eleven, but said she burned it and told them to leave her alone."

"That's mental! But Harry, what are you going to do about that letter from the Ministry? I know, maybe dad can help."

"No, that'll get Aunt Petunia in trouble."

Ron gave him an odd look.

"Not that I care about her or anything, but think about it—my aunt suddenly uses magic accidentally after all these years, and neither Hogwarts nor the Ministry did anything about it? It'll sound like I'm making it up."

"Yes, but Harry, not everybody wants to come to Hogwarts. People who think it's some kind of cult or want to live like Muggles have their names put down on a list so they won't go telling all the Muggles out there about the magical world."

"So, what will happen if I tell the Ministry that it was my aunt who performed the magic and not me?" The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth.

"I don't know. When Dad gets back, I think we should tell him."

"I guess so. I don't want someone else to get me in trouble for doing magic again."

He was referring to the time when Dobby—a house elf—had caused Aunt Petunia's pudding bowl to crash to the floor, which had earned him his first warning from the Ministry and house arrest from his aunt and uncle.

Harry was tempted to tell Ron about the killings reported on the Muggle news, but decided that they had enough on their hands without having to worry about that.

Around one in the afternoon Ron's father returned and they decided it was best to approach him with the letter sooner rather than later.

Ron approached his father, who was sitting at the table, chatting with Mrs. Weasley.

"Er, dad?" he said quietly.

"What is it, Ron?"

"Could Harry and I talk to you in private?"

Mrs. Weasley cast a curious look in his direction as she organised her cookbooks.

"What about?" he asked, turning in his seat.

"It has to do with the Ministry," said Harry.

"Follow me," said Mr. Weasley.

He took them into a room that must be his library, which Harry had never seen before.

"Alright boys, tell me what the problem is."

"Well, Harry got this letter."

Ron handed his father the letter from the Ministry, which he quickly read over.

"Harry, you do know you're not supposed to do magic over the holidays," said Mr. Weasley sternly.

"Yes sir, I do. But the problem is, I didn't do the magic. My aunt did."

Mr. Weasley gave him a puzzled look. "But, your aunt's a Muggle," he said in an 'I-hate-to-break-it-to-you' tone.

"That's what I thought. But she told my uncle that she had received a letter from Hogwarts too, and that she'd destroyed it and ignored."

"Well, I'll be hexed! Your aunt—a witch! Though, not really—she's taken the oath not to do magic and has done it in her own home... she'll be fined of course—"

"Fined?" Harry stepped forward, "No, no; she'll be very angry!"

"Well, you won't have to worry about that, now will you? It'll be a whole year until you have to see her again if Dumbledore insists you even stay with her at all after the next term ends."

That was true. Being fined isn't such a bad thing, and he probably wasn't ever going to see her again, a thought which made Harry very happy.

"I'll send an owl to the Ministry to straighten this all out."

Harry and Ron let out sighs of relief and then went upstairs to Ron's room.

Before dinner everyone was talking about their trip to Haywick Park. Mr. Weasley said that they were going to be staying with an old wizarding family they used to be friends with called the Whitbys.

"Remember Beverly, Ron? You two used to get along so well together!" Mrs. Weasley recalled fondly. From the sour look on Ron's face Harry could tell that he and Beverly hadn't gotten along well at all.

"Yeah, Ronniekins—wasn't she your little girlfriend?" said George.

For some reason this lit a fire in Ron and he jumped at George. They both tumbled to the floor, fists flying.

"Ronald! George! Off the floor! Honestly, we should've had all girls."

The words had no sooner left Mrs. Weasley's mouth when Ginny entered the room. Harry was rather shocked to see her.

Ginny had grown up. She was almost as tall as Fred and George, and her hair was longer and braided. Harry smiled when he saw her.

"Hello, Ginny."

At that she instantly turned beet red and Harry realised that she hadn't changed much. She didn't, however, drop anything or step on anyone's foot in response and smiled back at him with less fear.

Fred had managed to separate Ron and George, the latter of whom was grinning mischievously, while the former was shooting a virulent stare in his brother's direction.

"Really boys, when will you ever stop teasing each other?" said Mrs. Weasley.

"I was just joking, Mum. I honestly didn't think it'd still bother him."

An earnest look was something you'd rarely see on George's face, even with the ever-present grin.

"Well, it doesn't," said Ron stubbornly, rubbing his shoulder.

"Oh, so you just felt like taking a punch at me for laughs?" said George.

Ron lunged at him again but Harry held him back.

"C'mon Ron, let's eat dinner."

Afterwards Harry and Ron went upstairs to pack for the trip to Haywick Park.

"We'll be up bright and early, so everyone get some sleep!" Mr. Weasley advised, giving strict glances to Fred and George.

"It'll be really weird to see the Whitby's again. After her dad got promoted, they moved to Plymouth and we haven't seen them since," Ron said as he was packing socks into his trunk.

Harry suddenly realised something.

"Ron, I don't have enough money to pay for Haywick Park."

"Don't worry," said Ron, "It's Mum and Dad's birthday present for you."

He smiled in response, but felt as if a large stone had been implanted in his stomach. He hated when Ron's parents bought him anything when they were so poor and he had a vault full of gold at Gringotts, the wizard bank.