Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Created by J.K. Rowling
Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy

Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks again to Becky!

Chapter Two: Old Magic and Family Love

"Are you up yet?" Aunt Petunia screeched, her voice only faintly muffled by the layer of wood blocking her from Harry's view. He could hear her knuckles rapping sharply against the door.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, sitting up and reaching automatically for his thick black glasses. They were taped together in several places until he could return to Hogwarts and repair them magically. Underage wizards were forbidden to use magic during the summer, especially around Muggles. Considering that the penalty for misuse of magic was expulsion from Hogwarts, or even imprisonment in Azkaban, Harry didn't feel particularly inclined to break the rules.

As he pushed his glasses up on his nose, Harry's fingers automatically moved past his eyes and onto the scar on his forehead, a souvenir of the curse that Voldemort had used to kill his parents. He half expected to feel a twinge of pain run through his head at the touch, but nothing happened. Harry would have been worried if his scar had caused him pain, but as events stood, he was almost more worried that it didn't. Things had been strangely quiet all summer, and Harry didn't dare to guess why.

At the end of the last year, Voldemort had formed a human body for himself, and called his old army of Death Eaters back to his side. Harry knew that Voldemort still wanted him dead, and wouldn't rest until he was. And yet, he hadn't been bothered once all summer. No nightmares, no headaches, and no sign of danger. It only made him worry all the more.

He climbed out of bed slowly, depression weighing him down. It had been nearly two months since he'd come to stay with the Dursleys - seven weeks of unbearable cruelty and boredom that had brought Harry near to screaming. The tedium that surrounded life at Number Four, Privet Drive, was stifling. Harry couldn't wait to escape to Hogwarts on the first of September. He hoped Dumbledore would allow him to visit the Weasleys sooner than that, but wasn't sure what to expect, especially where Dumbledore was concerned.

"Up! Up!" Aunt Petunia's voice broke Harry out of his reverie. "We don't feed you and clothe you so you can have a lie-in every morning! Get up, you ungrateful wretch!"

"I'm up!" Harry yelled back angrily, yanking open the door.

Petunia seemed almost frightened at his sudden appearance. "Well, then." She cleared her throat. "Go downstairs and help your uncle clear out the garage."

All summer, the Dursleys had seemed more frightened of Harry than usual. They'd compensated for this by being just as cruel as was humanly possible. Harry supposed it had something to do with the letter they'd received from Professor Dumbledore one week into the summer, detailing the danger that Harry faced in Voldemort, and the old magic that protected him while he was in their house. If Harry knew the Dursleys - and after living with them for fourteen years, he had reason to believe that he did - they were less upset over the prospect of Harry being murdered than they were that magic had been cast on their home. And of course, the magic was all Harry's fault.

After showering and dressing himself in Muggle clothes, Harry wandered down to the kitchen to try to find some breakfast. As usual, Aunt Petunia had neglected to leave anything out for him, so he fixed himself some toast and jam, and went out to the garage to find Uncle Vernon, who was home from work due to an untimely Bank holiday.

"What kept you, boy?" Uncle Vernon questioned as soon as Harry stepped into sight. "Lazy, good-for-nothing…"

Harry glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, he began to shift the contents of the garage around, moving the first box out into the drive. He returned and moved to pick up the second one. Then he carried the next box out, watching angrily as Vernon ceased to work, choosing instead to pause and watch Harry labor with the heavy brown boxes of discarded junk.

Dudley wandered out from the kitchen door, gnawing discontentedly on a carrot. Now that he was back to the size of a gorilla, Petunia had eased up on the rest of the family's diet, but she still refused to stock the cupboards with Dudley's favorite sugary snacks.

"That's right, Harry," Dudley said quietly, his eyes flashing with malice. "It's about time you pulled your weight around here."

Harry was sorely tempted to make a reply about who pulled whose significant weight around the house, but held his tongue. He knew Vernon was just waiting for a chance to pounce, and nothing would make Dudley happier.

Suddenly, an owl swooped out of the trees and began to circle Harry's head, cooing and clucking. Vernon jumped to his feet immediately and began to bluster.

"Get that thing out of here!" he hissed, glancing around nervously to make sure the neighbors were all out of sight.

Dudley just whimpered fearfully, backing toward the kitchen.

Harry set his current box down and reached up to remove the letter tied to the owl's leg. "It's from Hogwarts," he announced, scanning the envelope as the owl continued to circle his head.

Vernon looked ready to explode. "How many times do we have to tell you not to mention that place in this house?!"

"We're not in the house, are we?" Harry chuckled under his breath, sure that Uncle Vernon couldn't possibly look more outraged than he already did. He opened the letter eagerly, hoping for news of Hagrid and Dumbledore.

There were three sheets inside of the envelope, the first printed on school stationary.

Dear Mr. Potter,

You will find enclosed a list of additional materials required for fifth years.

As usual, the Hogwarts Express will depart at eleven o'clock on the first of September from Platform Nine and Three Quarters, London Kings Cross. Your ticket is enclosed.

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Below the letter was a list of books.

The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord, by Hinkypunk Gristle
Dark Magic in Our Times, by Hederich Dinkelsbule
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five, by Miranda Goshawk
Advanced Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch

Harry set aside the letter and his ticket, ignoring Uncle Vernon and Dudley. He drew the third sheet from the envelope and unfolded it quickly. He recognized Professor Dumbledore's handwriting.

Dear Harry,

Certain events have come to my attention recently which may require a change in plans. When you get his letter, there should be only two weeks left before term begins. If you would still like to go stay with the Weasleys, please let me know by return owl so that I can arrange to have someone watch over you.

Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry grinned. Would he like to stay with the Weasleys! He looked over to Uncle Vernon. "Can I go stay with my friends for the rest of the summer?" Vernon looked surprised, and seemed to be doing some quick calculations in his head. On the one hand, if Harry left, he would be out of the way; on the other hand, he would be happy.

It didn't take Uncle Vernon long to realize that he'd much rather get rid of the boy. "Fine," he said gruffly, "but I don't want them showing up in my chimney like last year. If you want to visit them, you can take a cab or something."

Harry didn't bother answering. He ran straight up to his room to compose a reply.

At the top of the stairs he ran into Petunia. "Mercy!" she shrieked, dropping the basket of laundry she'd been carrying and clutching at her heart. "What's wrong with you?! Can't you walk like a normal person?"

"Sorry," Harry replied, barely managing to keep a straight face. He hastily threw Uncle Vernon's knobby old socks and underwear back into the basket, shoved it at Petunia, and ran down the hall to his room. He could hear Aunt Petunia muttering rude things after him.

All in one motion, Harry tapped on Hedwig's cage to wake her up, grabbed a quill and parchment from his trunk, flopped across his bed, and scribbled quickly on the back of Dumbledore's letter.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I definitely want to stay with the Weasleys. The Dursleys have their chimney blocked up and don't want the Weasleys turning up again, so I'll take the Knight Bus to Ottery St. Catchpole tonight.

Harry Potter.

He got up off the bed and jumped to the window, where Hedwig was waiting impatiently. "Not this time, Hedwig," he told her, "I'll have one for you in a minute," he added hastily before she could turn her back. Harry stuck his head out of the window, and looked around. "Oi!" he shouted. The Hogwarts owl immediately flew up to the window. "Take this back to Dumbledore, would you?" he said, tying his reply to the owl's leg. The owl took off, and Harry grabbed another bit of parchment from his trunk.

Dear Ron,

I can come! Dumbledore said I can come! If it's okay with your parents, I'll take the Knight Bus to your house tonight. Maybe we can even meet up with Hermione and all go to Diagon Alley together next week!

Harry.

Harry glanced over at Hedwig, who was watching him from the window, waiting to be given the letter. He rolled the paper up, got up off the bed, and tied it to Hedwig's leg. "Take this to Ron's, all right? And just stay there. I'll be at the Burrow later tonight." Hedwig nipped his fingers affectionately, and took off out the window.

Harry watched her fly for a moment, then shut the window and looked around his room. He reached for his calendar and removed it from the wall. "Guess I won't be needing this anymore." He had only two weeks left, anyway. He packed it into the bottom of his trunk, then added his books, his cards, his parchment and quills, and then folded his robes and clothing on top of them. Hagrid's candy and Hedwig's food went into his cauldron, and then he waited for something else to come to him. It was only noon, and he had the rest of the day to wait before he could leave.