This is my story, all plot ideas and most of the storylines are mine. Some I think I might be continuing from the books. Yes, I have borrowed the charcters from JKR and Warner Bros but there is no harm intended in my work, it's just fan fiction, to amuse those who enjoy such things. I'm thinking that if anyone doesn't know by know that we're not the wonderful Miss Rowling, then they shouldn't be reading the story. :P
The Parting Gift
Chapter One - Leaving The Dursleys
It was one of the hottest days of the year so far, and in a small well-kept village, in Surrey, Little Whinging, to be precise, a skinny, untidy looking boy was pacing restlessly round his room in the stifling heat. He had messy looking black hair that was obscuring a thin, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He wore glasses, mended at the arms with Spellotape, because, for the life of him, he couldn't remember the spell his best friend, Hermione Granger, had used to fix them for the last few years. It was "Ocular Repara", or something that sounded similar, but he couldn't get the words right.
"Never mind", he muttered to himself, "I'll be back at The Burrow soon enough,they won't be broken for much longer."
You could always rely on Hermione to remember the charms that he and Ron Weasley, his other best friend, continually forgot. For you see, this boy was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, as The Daily Prophet were fond of calling him again, and he was awaiting what he thought was the most important piece of information, in his life, certainly a view shared by Hermione and Ron. He had received no less than three owls from the pair of them, in the last two days, each saying things like "..... Can't stand this interminable wait anymore, what if I don't pass, Harry. I'll be a laughing stock....." and a slightly calmer one from Ron that said, "I can't stand this wait anymore, Hermione's doing my head in!"
The three of them, and the rest of Hogwarts' soon-to-be-sixth year, were awaiting their OWL results. Harry was desperate to know what marks he'd got in the subjects he knew he had to do well in to become an Auror, he didn't want to let down Professor McGonagall's promise to Dolores Umbridge, in her careers talk with Harry last term. He'd applied for all his classes for the following two years over the Summer, and he knew that his being able to take those classes depended heavily on his results, for example, "Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than 'Outstanding' in their OWL's", was precisely what Professor McGonagall had said to me. This worried Harry, because whilst he was sure he'd scraped Transfiguration up to scratch and he knew he had passed Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts, he was quite sure he wouldn't have got an "Outstanding" in Potions. This upset him, because Harry wanted more than anything to be an Auror when he left school, like Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, although maybe not quite as mad as the latter. He tried to drive thoughts of his exams out of his head, and decided to concentrate on thinking about the past few weeks of the summer, and what was ahead for the rest of the school holidays.
Harry had had a much happier summer than he usually managed to have, it seemed that the Dursley's had taken the warnings of Moody, Remus Lupin and Tonks (not to mention the Weasley's) to heart, not only had he not been locked in his room for six weeks, he had been allowed out, and best of all Hedwig had been allowed out of her cage too, and as a result was longer making that ear splitting racket she had been for the last three summers. As well as the surprisingly decent behaviour of the Dursley's, Harry had received an exorbitant amount of post this year, letters from people who read his interview in either The Quibbler, or latterly, in The Daily Prophet, and wanted to congratulate him for speaking out, or else wanted to express their disgust at the way The Daily Prophet had treated him over the past year; letters from Angelina Johnson, who was Gryffindor House's Quidditch captain, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith and Terry Boot, who had all been members Of Dumbledore's Army, alongside himself, Ron, Hermione, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley and several others; a bank statement from Gringotts; countless letters from Lupin and Tonks, who had both stuck fast to last summers promise of hearing from Harry every three days and of course, masses of letters from Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins, Fred and George, Ron's older brothers, who were now running a joke shop in Diagon Alley. It didn't appear that Mrs. Weasley knew yet, where her sons had procured the gold from, and Harry had a distinct feeling she wouldn't be too impressed if she knew that the money had originally been his Triwizard Tournament winnings.
He smiled as he thought of Mrs. Weasley, she treated him like one of her own children and he was terribly glad that in two days he'd be in The Burrow, with her and Mr. Weasley, and their children. Ron had warned him though, it probably wouldn't be best to mention Percy to either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley, he still hadn't spoken to them, not even after Cornelius Fudge, Minister For Magic, admitted that Lord Voldemort was back.
Harry got to his feet and went downstairs to get himself a drink, whilst he was in the kitchen, Aunt Petunia felt the need to remind him to wash the glass once he'd finished, with a look that suggested his wizardry maybe a contagious disease. He gazed at he while she was washing up, still disbelieving that he had to call this place home, still disbelieving that this was the one place he could be safe. He knew all about the protective charm Dumbledore had ensured for him by making Petunia take baby Harry in, but sometimes he still could not believe they were actually family. His aunt was pale and thin, with a long neck and wispy blonde hair and when he looked into her eyes, he could see nothing of his mother, although he desperately hoped he would. Uncle Vernon, by comparison, was a large stout man, with a ruddy complexion and normally an expression of belligerent angriness on his face. He wore his shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his massive forearms, and every time Harry looked at him, he was reminded of an overgrown school bully, like Crabbe or Goyle in thirty or forty years time. His aunt and uncle had spoken very little to him this summer, and had advised Dudley to do the same. Dudley however, hadn't needing telling twice to stay away from Harry after last summer's incident in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, where old Mrs. Figg, the Squib who had been a witness for Harry during his trial with the Wizengamot, last year, lived.
Some of Dudley's friends tried to entice him into provoking Harry, but Dudley had even gone as far as to tell them not to, saying that he was after all, his cousin, and when Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend had looked surprised at this, Dudley had told him that his mum had said they had to be nice. A couple of times, Harry thought that maybe Dudley was grateful for Harry saving him, last summer, and then other times Harry thought Dudley held him entirely responsible for the whole ordeal. At least it gave Harry some peace and quiet, and as with Snape last year, he'd decided he much preferred being ignored.
Harry went silently back upstairs to his room, and as he opened the door, his heart gave a lurch, because there was an owl drinking out of Hedwig's dish, that wasn't Hedwig, and it had an official looking letter tied to it's foot. Spotting Harry, it flew over to him, and dipped gracefully in front of him, so that he could take his letter. He checked the letter, it was addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The seal on the back was an emerald green colour and it looked as if this was the letter he had been waiting for. Excitedly unrolling it Harry eagerly read his exam results. Scanning the page urgently, he read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY
HEADMASTER ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS, GRAND SORC.,CHF. WARLOCK, SUPREME MUGWUMP, INTERNATIONAL CONFED OF WIZARDS
Dear Mr. Potter,
Here are the results for the OWL examinations you took six weeks ago. These results determine whether or not you will be able to partake in the lessons you signed up for last year. Students must send an owl back by the Third day of August, confirming that they have seen these results, and any changes of class they might need. You will find attached, two scrolls, the first is to be given to your parent or guardian who must sign it, to confirm they have seen your results and to approve any classes you may wish to change. The other scroll contains your exam results, it is this you must sign and send back, with any class alterations.
Your book lists will be sent to you as normal, once any changes in class have been taken into consideration.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry looked at the attached slip of parchment, bearing his OWL results, nearly unable to look. He twisted it over and over again in his hands, not daring to hope that this was the first step to his becoming an Auror. His heart raced as he sped through the table of results in front of him. The exams were listed in the order he had taken them and as his eyes swept over the page, he wasn't particularly surprised by his marks. An 'E' in Charms, oh wow, an 'E' in Transfiguration, that meant he would be in McGonagall's class after all, an 'A' in Herbology, not as good as it could have been, but still, it was a pass. Harry felt a sudden rush of happiness as he looked at the large, round 'O' for Outstanding next to the heading 'Defence Against The Dark Arts'. All he needed to do now was get that impossible 'O' in Potions and he'd have achieved all the grades he need to, to be accepted into all the classes he wanted to take. His heart, and mood sank as he saw an 'E' next to Potions. He'd missed it by one grade. There was no way Snape would accept him into his NEWT Potion class now. Harry felt miserable inside, like a big shining future had been taken away from him. He re-read, what seemed to him to be devastating news. He was never going to be an Auror. He continued to read the rest of his results, not really caring what he had received. 'A's for Herbology, Astronomy and History of Magic. Good old Hermione, he thought to himself, knowing full well he might not have passed Professor Binn's class without the help of her notes. The aforementioned 'E's for Charms Potions and Transfiguration, as well as one for Care Of Magical Creatures. Harry was deeply relieved to find no 'T's in his marks, he still wasn't sure whether or not George had made them up.
Harry heard a loud 'CRACK' outside, and smiled to himself. Mundungus Fletcher was extremely unsubtle at his continued guard duty. He always Apparated and Disapparated far too close to the Dursley's house, and sometimes Harry was even sure he caught a faint whiff of pipe tobacco, mingling with the smell of beer, and rancid old socks, it was a wonder Aunt Petunia hadn't called the police by now, Mundungus was lucky she hadn't taken him for a tramp. He was undoubtedly on his way to partake in some shady deal or another, as was the way with Mundungus, Harry just hoped it wasn't more stolen cauldrons, he remembered particularly well that the last batch hadn't gone done terribly well with Mrs. Weasley.
He grabbed a piece of Parchment and a quill, and scribbled down his OWL results. He wasn't any more impressed at himself, ten minutes after he had first read them. As he wrote, he wondered what on earth he was going to take instead of Potions. He thought he might send an owl to Professor McGonagall, asking for her advice, he was determined that he still wanted to be an Auror. For now, these results would just wing their way to Ron, through the midnight sky, to The Burrow, where the Weasley's, and Hermione, were expecting him to join them the day after next.
Harry heard a lot of - kerfuffle - going on downstairs. Uncle Vernon had started to bellow about owls again, and Harry felt sure that Errol, the Weasley's owl, who was not terribly competent, had delivered his mail from Ron downstairs again, instead of through Harry's bedroom window, as all the other owls somehow knew to do. Harry stood up, stretched, and thought that he'd better go downstairs, and find out what the fuss was about. He reached the bottom of the stairs, to find Uncle Vernon, purple in the face, simultaneously choking and shouting. "I - WILL - NOT - TOLERATE - THIS!", he was managing to croak out, every couple of seconds. "OWLS - COMING - HERE - FOR - ME??" He bellowed thunderously. Aunt Petunia was exchanging worried glances with her own reflection, she did not seem to be able to calm Uncle Vernon down.
"An owl for you," said Harry, amazed. "Who'd be sending you an owl?" he wondered. "Those freaks who were with you when you came back from school last year", Uncle Vernon hissed. "That's who. To tell me to I have to sign some dratted forms. Which of course, I whole heartedly refuse to do."
The purpley-maroon colour in his face was subsiding now, it was being taken over by a very angry red flush, that was creeping across his whole face and down onto his neck, leaving blotches that looked like birth marks. Harry wondered how Moody could have known so quickly that he, Harry would have needed Vernon's signature, then realised that Uncle Vernon was already holding the form it looked like he was being forced to sign. With a jolt of shock, Harry recognised a Hogsmeade Visit permission slip, exactly the same as the one Sirius had signed for him at the end of his third year at Hogwarts. He was confused for a moment, why would Uncle Vernon need to sign it, Harry already had Sirius' permission. Harry felt his heart fall, as he remembered what had happened to Sirius, six weeks ago, at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. He realised numbly, that Sirius Black was no longer his Guardian, and that his permission to go to Hogsmeade at weekends, would mean nothing. He held back the tears, and the wave of depression, he knew, from experience was close to washing over him, and said, "You'll need to sign this too," handing Uncle Vernon the scroll that had arrived with his exam results. Uncle Vernon looked at the parchment disdainfully, and said, " Really, and what's this, then. Must be important if it needs my signature," and with that he read the writing on the parchment. "OWLS!" he exclaimed, "What exactly are OWL examinations? Do you mean to tell me they have examinations for you people.....?"
Aunt Petunia sniffed, and said, quite surprisingly, "Well, of course they do, Vernon. It is a school. Why do you think they go there?"
Uncle Vernon looked outraged that his wife appeared to be taking Harry's side. He put the scrolls down, in between two photographs of Dudley on the sideboard, and stamped outside, muttering darkly. Harry was just about to sneak back upstairs very quietly, when the doorbell rang, very loud and shrill in his ear.
"I wonder who that is", said Aunt Petunia as she bustled toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron front.
Her face fell as opened the door to reveal Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody, all standing on her doorstep. "Good Evening, Mrs Dursley", said Lupin, looking more tired and grey than the last time Harry had seen him. "Wotcher", said Tonks brightly, as she squeezed past Aunt Petunia to give Harry a hug. She looked so out of place in the Dursley's hall, with her pink hair and loud clothes, that Harry laughed at the sight of her. "Evenin'", said Moody, tipping his hat to Aunt Petunia, who looked horrified by his magical eye, and the fact that there was a rather large chunk missing from his nose. Harry shook hands with Moody and Lupin in turn, receiving an awkward hug from Lupin as well. "You've come to take me to The Burrow at last, have you", he said, grinning. "All in good time", said Moody, cryptically. Harry felt the grin slide off his face, what on earth did Moody mean, all in good time. Moody caught his look, and said, "Nothing to be worried about son, nothing at all, just a bit of business."
Lupin turned to Harry and told him he thought it might be a good idea if he went upstairs and packed. Mrs. Dursley was still speechless, at the thought that there were witches and wizards in her house, and her husband was outside. She looked quite unsure of what to do, whether or not she should call Vernon in. Just as she looked like she was deciding against letting him know, the latch of the front door started to turn. In walked Dudley Dursley, tall, stocky, and with a look about him of constantly wanting to be starting a fight. He looked around the hallway of his house, and before his mother could do anything to quieten him, had shouted, "Dad, Dad, there's loads of weirdoes in the house. Dad, Dad, come quick."
Aunt Petunia, for all her dislike of magical folk, looked deeply embarrassed by what Dudley had said, and when Vernon came in from the garden ranting and raging about their visitors, she turned to him and said calmly, "Vernon, they're here to take the boy. They're not here to harm you, and they have every right to be here. It is Harry's home too. If you don't like it, leave until they're gone." Ignoring the look of open mouthed horror on her son and husband's faces, she took the scrolls from the sideboard, quietly, but determinedly, signed where it was appropriate. She turned, gave the scrolls to Harry, who by now, too was open mouthed, and said, "You have a safe year at school, Harry."
Tonks followed Harry upstairs to help him pack and said, "Wow, Harry, your aunt has certainly got a lot nicer over the summer. Shame about your uncle though." She laughed as she began to pack Harry's suitcase with her wand. Harry just felt, and looked confused by Aunt Petunia's behaviour. "Ah, sometimes the most stubborn of people will surprise you, Harry, said Tonks, "Maybe she just finally realised they were behaving horribly. Harry stopped really listening to Tonks, letting her chat merrily away about Quidditch, work, something about Umbridge she'd read in The Quibbler that week and began to gather together his few possessions. As Harry picked up Hedwig's cage, he realised that she wasn't back from delivering the mail to Ron yet, and told Tonks they'd have to wait for her to get back. Just then, Hedwig came into view, with a scroll of parchment tied to her foot, which, Harry guessed, would tell him how Ron and Hermione had done in their exams. Hedwig soared elegantly into the room, and landed on top of her cage. She stuck out her foot, so Harry could untie the letter, then as he did, ruffled her snow-white feathers and went to sit outside the window, almost as if she knew she'd have to go in her cage to travel soon. Harry tore open the letter, which read:
Dear Harry,
Shame about the Potions, mate. Never mind, best to have a word with McGonagall about it. Change Potions for Care Of Magical Creatures, that's what I'm doing. Hermione got all 'O's, isn't it sickening. I got nearly all 'A's, which at least means I passed, got an 'E' in Care Of Magical Creatures though, that's why I'm going to do it at NEWT. Anyway, we'll be seeing you tomorrow, I reckon, and as it's your birthday, I think Mum'll make a cake or something, there'll certainly be presents. Oh, she and Dad and Ginny all say Congratulations on your OWLS. The twins aren't here at the moment, they're out all the time nowadays. That bloody joke shop, it'll be the end of all of us.
See you tomorrow.
Happy Birthday Harry.
From Ron
There was a hastily scribbled note from Hermione on the bottom of the letter, it read, "Well done, Harry, Happy Birthday, See you soon. Love, Hermione."
Harry folded the letter away, confused, everyone seemed to know he wasn't going to The Burrow tonight except him. Where else would two Aurors and a werewolf be escorting him to? He gathered together his trunks, and Hedwig's cage, and made his way down the stairs, aided by Tonks, who knocked over nearly more than she carried. Moody and Lupin were sittin awkwardly in the living room, waiting for Harry, avoiding Aunt Petunia's slightly wary stare.
"You ready then, Harry?" said Moody gruffly, pulling an old toaster out of his pocket. Harry said, "We're travelling by Portkey?", as Aunt Petunia looked horrified at the rust and stale crumbs now showering her carpet. "Yeah", said Tonks, "It'll be easiest, certainly less trouble than flying. It's all above board, Cornelius Fudge authorised this Portkey himself. Funny, how much he wants to help Dumbledore now, isn't it" she smiled wryly.
"Are we all ready then? Tonks, you have Harry's trunk? And you Harry, you have your, um, forms, that your aunt signed? Ok, Moody, I think we're ready", said Lupin, breathlessly.
"Portus", said Moody, tapping the toaster with his wand. As he reached forward to grab the toaster, he realised that no one had actually told him where the Portkey would take them. He felt a flitter of mild concern, and then the next thing he knew, the ground had been wrenched away from him, his fingertips seemed attached to the toaster, and he was flying through the air in a rush of colours and a hiss of wind. It quite made him forget that he didn't know where he was headed.
The Parting Gift
Chapter One - Leaving The Dursleys
It was one of the hottest days of the year so far, and in a small well-kept village, in Surrey, Little Whinging, to be precise, a skinny, untidy looking boy was pacing restlessly round his room in the stifling heat. He had messy looking black hair that was obscuring a thin, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He wore glasses, mended at the arms with Spellotape, because, for the life of him, he couldn't remember the spell his best friend, Hermione Granger, had used to fix them for the last few years. It was "Ocular Repara", or something that sounded similar, but he couldn't get the words right.
"Never mind", he muttered to himself, "I'll be back at The Burrow soon enough,they won't be broken for much longer."
You could always rely on Hermione to remember the charms that he and Ron Weasley, his other best friend, continually forgot. For you see, this boy was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, as The Daily Prophet were fond of calling him again, and he was awaiting what he thought was the most important piece of information, in his life, certainly a view shared by Hermione and Ron. He had received no less than three owls from the pair of them, in the last two days, each saying things like "..... Can't stand this interminable wait anymore, what if I don't pass, Harry. I'll be a laughing stock....." and a slightly calmer one from Ron that said, "I can't stand this wait anymore, Hermione's doing my head in!"
The three of them, and the rest of Hogwarts' soon-to-be-sixth year, were awaiting their OWL results. Harry was desperate to know what marks he'd got in the subjects he knew he had to do well in to become an Auror, he didn't want to let down Professor McGonagall's promise to Dolores Umbridge, in her careers talk with Harry last term. He'd applied for all his classes for the following two years over the Summer, and he knew that his being able to take those classes depended heavily on his results, for example, "Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than 'Outstanding' in their OWL's", was precisely what Professor McGonagall had said to me. This worried Harry, because whilst he was sure he'd scraped Transfiguration up to scratch and he knew he had passed Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts, he was quite sure he wouldn't have got an "Outstanding" in Potions. This upset him, because Harry wanted more than anything to be an Auror when he left school, like Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, although maybe not quite as mad as the latter. He tried to drive thoughts of his exams out of his head, and decided to concentrate on thinking about the past few weeks of the summer, and what was ahead for the rest of the school holidays.
Harry had had a much happier summer than he usually managed to have, it seemed that the Dursley's had taken the warnings of Moody, Remus Lupin and Tonks (not to mention the Weasley's) to heart, not only had he not been locked in his room for six weeks, he had been allowed out, and best of all Hedwig had been allowed out of her cage too, and as a result was longer making that ear splitting racket she had been for the last three summers. As well as the surprisingly decent behaviour of the Dursley's, Harry had received an exorbitant amount of post this year, letters from people who read his interview in either The Quibbler, or latterly, in The Daily Prophet, and wanted to congratulate him for speaking out, or else wanted to express their disgust at the way The Daily Prophet had treated him over the past year; letters from Angelina Johnson, who was Gryffindor House's Quidditch captain, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith and Terry Boot, who had all been members Of Dumbledore's Army, alongside himself, Ron, Hermione, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley and several others; a bank statement from Gringotts; countless letters from Lupin and Tonks, who had both stuck fast to last summers promise of hearing from Harry every three days and of course, masses of letters from Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins, Fred and George, Ron's older brothers, who were now running a joke shop in Diagon Alley. It didn't appear that Mrs. Weasley knew yet, where her sons had procured the gold from, and Harry had a distinct feeling she wouldn't be too impressed if she knew that the money had originally been his Triwizard Tournament winnings.
He smiled as he thought of Mrs. Weasley, she treated him like one of her own children and he was terribly glad that in two days he'd be in The Burrow, with her and Mr. Weasley, and their children. Ron had warned him though, it probably wouldn't be best to mention Percy to either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley, he still hadn't spoken to them, not even after Cornelius Fudge, Minister For Magic, admitted that Lord Voldemort was back.
Harry got to his feet and went downstairs to get himself a drink, whilst he was in the kitchen, Aunt Petunia felt the need to remind him to wash the glass once he'd finished, with a look that suggested his wizardry maybe a contagious disease. He gazed at he while she was washing up, still disbelieving that he had to call this place home, still disbelieving that this was the one place he could be safe. He knew all about the protective charm Dumbledore had ensured for him by making Petunia take baby Harry in, but sometimes he still could not believe they were actually family. His aunt was pale and thin, with a long neck and wispy blonde hair and when he looked into her eyes, he could see nothing of his mother, although he desperately hoped he would. Uncle Vernon, by comparison, was a large stout man, with a ruddy complexion and normally an expression of belligerent angriness on his face. He wore his shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his massive forearms, and every time Harry looked at him, he was reminded of an overgrown school bully, like Crabbe or Goyle in thirty or forty years time. His aunt and uncle had spoken very little to him this summer, and had advised Dudley to do the same. Dudley however, hadn't needing telling twice to stay away from Harry after last summer's incident in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, where old Mrs. Figg, the Squib who had been a witness for Harry during his trial with the Wizengamot, last year, lived.
Some of Dudley's friends tried to entice him into provoking Harry, but Dudley had even gone as far as to tell them not to, saying that he was after all, his cousin, and when Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend had looked surprised at this, Dudley had told him that his mum had said they had to be nice. A couple of times, Harry thought that maybe Dudley was grateful for Harry saving him, last summer, and then other times Harry thought Dudley held him entirely responsible for the whole ordeal. At least it gave Harry some peace and quiet, and as with Snape last year, he'd decided he much preferred being ignored.
Harry went silently back upstairs to his room, and as he opened the door, his heart gave a lurch, because there was an owl drinking out of Hedwig's dish, that wasn't Hedwig, and it had an official looking letter tied to it's foot. Spotting Harry, it flew over to him, and dipped gracefully in front of him, so that he could take his letter. He checked the letter, it was addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The seal on the back was an emerald green colour and it looked as if this was the letter he had been waiting for. Excitedly unrolling it Harry eagerly read his exam results. Scanning the page urgently, he read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY
HEADMASTER ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS, GRAND SORC.,CHF. WARLOCK, SUPREME MUGWUMP, INTERNATIONAL CONFED OF WIZARDS
Dear Mr. Potter,
Here are the results for the OWL examinations you took six weeks ago. These results determine whether or not you will be able to partake in the lessons you signed up for last year. Students must send an owl back by the Third day of August, confirming that they have seen these results, and any changes of class they might need. You will find attached, two scrolls, the first is to be given to your parent or guardian who must sign it, to confirm they have seen your results and to approve any classes you may wish to change. The other scroll contains your exam results, it is this you must sign and send back, with any class alterations.
Your book lists will be sent to you as normal, once any changes in class have been taken into consideration.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry looked at the attached slip of parchment, bearing his OWL results, nearly unable to look. He twisted it over and over again in his hands, not daring to hope that this was the first step to his becoming an Auror. His heart raced as he sped through the table of results in front of him. The exams were listed in the order he had taken them and as his eyes swept over the page, he wasn't particularly surprised by his marks. An 'E' in Charms, oh wow, an 'E' in Transfiguration, that meant he would be in McGonagall's class after all, an 'A' in Herbology, not as good as it could have been, but still, it was a pass. Harry felt a sudden rush of happiness as he looked at the large, round 'O' for Outstanding next to the heading 'Defence Against The Dark Arts'. All he needed to do now was get that impossible 'O' in Potions and he'd have achieved all the grades he need to, to be accepted into all the classes he wanted to take. His heart, and mood sank as he saw an 'E' next to Potions. He'd missed it by one grade. There was no way Snape would accept him into his NEWT Potion class now. Harry felt miserable inside, like a big shining future had been taken away from him. He re-read, what seemed to him to be devastating news. He was never going to be an Auror. He continued to read the rest of his results, not really caring what he had received. 'A's for Herbology, Astronomy and History of Magic. Good old Hermione, he thought to himself, knowing full well he might not have passed Professor Binn's class without the help of her notes. The aforementioned 'E's for Charms Potions and Transfiguration, as well as one for Care Of Magical Creatures. Harry was deeply relieved to find no 'T's in his marks, he still wasn't sure whether or not George had made them up.
Harry heard a loud 'CRACK' outside, and smiled to himself. Mundungus Fletcher was extremely unsubtle at his continued guard duty. He always Apparated and Disapparated far too close to the Dursley's house, and sometimes Harry was even sure he caught a faint whiff of pipe tobacco, mingling with the smell of beer, and rancid old socks, it was a wonder Aunt Petunia hadn't called the police by now, Mundungus was lucky she hadn't taken him for a tramp. He was undoubtedly on his way to partake in some shady deal or another, as was the way with Mundungus, Harry just hoped it wasn't more stolen cauldrons, he remembered particularly well that the last batch hadn't gone done terribly well with Mrs. Weasley.
He grabbed a piece of Parchment and a quill, and scribbled down his OWL results. He wasn't any more impressed at himself, ten minutes after he had first read them. As he wrote, he wondered what on earth he was going to take instead of Potions. He thought he might send an owl to Professor McGonagall, asking for her advice, he was determined that he still wanted to be an Auror. For now, these results would just wing their way to Ron, through the midnight sky, to The Burrow, where the Weasley's, and Hermione, were expecting him to join them the day after next.
Harry heard a lot of - kerfuffle - going on downstairs. Uncle Vernon had started to bellow about owls again, and Harry felt sure that Errol, the Weasley's owl, who was not terribly competent, had delivered his mail from Ron downstairs again, instead of through Harry's bedroom window, as all the other owls somehow knew to do. Harry stood up, stretched, and thought that he'd better go downstairs, and find out what the fuss was about. He reached the bottom of the stairs, to find Uncle Vernon, purple in the face, simultaneously choking and shouting. "I - WILL - NOT - TOLERATE - THIS!", he was managing to croak out, every couple of seconds. "OWLS - COMING - HERE - FOR - ME??" He bellowed thunderously. Aunt Petunia was exchanging worried glances with her own reflection, she did not seem to be able to calm Uncle Vernon down.
"An owl for you," said Harry, amazed. "Who'd be sending you an owl?" he wondered. "Those freaks who were with you when you came back from school last year", Uncle Vernon hissed. "That's who. To tell me to I have to sign some dratted forms. Which of course, I whole heartedly refuse to do."
The purpley-maroon colour in his face was subsiding now, it was being taken over by a very angry red flush, that was creeping across his whole face and down onto his neck, leaving blotches that looked like birth marks. Harry wondered how Moody could have known so quickly that he, Harry would have needed Vernon's signature, then realised that Uncle Vernon was already holding the form it looked like he was being forced to sign. With a jolt of shock, Harry recognised a Hogsmeade Visit permission slip, exactly the same as the one Sirius had signed for him at the end of his third year at Hogwarts. He was confused for a moment, why would Uncle Vernon need to sign it, Harry already had Sirius' permission. Harry felt his heart fall, as he remembered what had happened to Sirius, six weeks ago, at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. He realised numbly, that Sirius Black was no longer his Guardian, and that his permission to go to Hogsmeade at weekends, would mean nothing. He held back the tears, and the wave of depression, he knew, from experience was close to washing over him, and said, "You'll need to sign this too," handing Uncle Vernon the scroll that had arrived with his exam results. Uncle Vernon looked at the parchment disdainfully, and said, " Really, and what's this, then. Must be important if it needs my signature," and with that he read the writing on the parchment. "OWLS!" he exclaimed, "What exactly are OWL examinations? Do you mean to tell me they have examinations for you people.....?"
Aunt Petunia sniffed, and said, quite surprisingly, "Well, of course they do, Vernon. It is a school. Why do you think they go there?"
Uncle Vernon looked outraged that his wife appeared to be taking Harry's side. He put the scrolls down, in between two photographs of Dudley on the sideboard, and stamped outside, muttering darkly. Harry was just about to sneak back upstairs very quietly, when the doorbell rang, very loud and shrill in his ear.
"I wonder who that is", said Aunt Petunia as she bustled toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron front.
Her face fell as opened the door to reveal Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody, all standing on her doorstep. "Good Evening, Mrs Dursley", said Lupin, looking more tired and grey than the last time Harry had seen him. "Wotcher", said Tonks brightly, as she squeezed past Aunt Petunia to give Harry a hug. She looked so out of place in the Dursley's hall, with her pink hair and loud clothes, that Harry laughed at the sight of her. "Evenin'", said Moody, tipping his hat to Aunt Petunia, who looked horrified by his magical eye, and the fact that there was a rather large chunk missing from his nose. Harry shook hands with Moody and Lupin in turn, receiving an awkward hug from Lupin as well. "You've come to take me to The Burrow at last, have you", he said, grinning. "All in good time", said Moody, cryptically. Harry felt the grin slide off his face, what on earth did Moody mean, all in good time. Moody caught his look, and said, "Nothing to be worried about son, nothing at all, just a bit of business."
Lupin turned to Harry and told him he thought it might be a good idea if he went upstairs and packed. Mrs. Dursley was still speechless, at the thought that there were witches and wizards in her house, and her husband was outside. She looked quite unsure of what to do, whether or not she should call Vernon in. Just as she looked like she was deciding against letting him know, the latch of the front door started to turn. In walked Dudley Dursley, tall, stocky, and with a look about him of constantly wanting to be starting a fight. He looked around the hallway of his house, and before his mother could do anything to quieten him, had shouted, "Dad, Dad, there's loads of weirdoes in the house. Dad, Dad, come quick."
Aunt Petunia, for all her dislike of magical folk, looked deeply embarrassed by what Dudley had said, and when Vernon came in from the garden ranting and raging about their visitors, she turned to him and said calmly, "Vernon, they're here to take the boy. They're not here to harm you, and they have every right to be here. It is Harry's home too. If you don't like it, leave until they're gone." Ignoring the look of open mouthed horror on her son and husband's faces, she took the scrolls from the sideboard, quietly, but determinedly, signed where it was appropriate. She turned, gave the scrolls to Harry, who by now, too was open mouthed, and said, "You have a safe year at school, Harry."
Tonks followed Harry upstairs to help him pack and said, "Wow, Harry, your aunt has certainly got a lot nicer over the summer. Shame about your uncle though." She laughed as she began to pack Harry's suitcase with her wand. Harry just felt, and looked confused by Aunt Petunia's behaviour. "Ah, sometimes the most stubborn of people will surprise you, Harry, said Tonks, "Maybe she just finally realised they were behaving horribly. Harry stopped really listening to Tonks, letting her chat merrily away about Quidditch, work, something about Umbridge she'd read in The Quibbler that week and began to gather together his few possessions. As Harry picked up Hedwig's cage, he realised that she wasn't back from delivering the mail to Ron yet, and told Tonks they'd have to wait for her to get back. Just then, Hedwig came into view, with a scroll of parchment tied to her foot, which, Harry guessed, would tell him how Ron and Hermione had done in their exams. Hedwig soared elegantly into the room, and landed on top of her cage. She stuck out her foot, so Harry could untie the letter, then as he did, ruffled her snow-white feathers and went to sit outside the window, almost as if she knew she'd have to go in her cage to travel soon. Harry tore open the letter, which read:
Dear Harry,
Shame about the Potions, mate. Never mind, best to have a word with McGonagall about it. Change Potions for Care Of Magical Creatures, that's what I'm doing. Hermione got all 'O's, isn't it sickening. I got nearly all 'A's, which at least means I passed, got an 'E' in Care Of Magical Creatures though, that's why I'm going to do it at NEWT. Anyway, we'll be seeing you tomorrow, I reckon, and as it's your birthday, I think Mum'll make a cake or something, there'll certainly be presents. Oh, she and Dad and Ginny all say Congratulations on your OWLS. The twins aren't here at the moment, they're out all the time nowadays. That bloody joke shop, it'll be the end of all of us.
See you tomorrow.
Happy Birthday Harry.
From Ron
There was a hastily scribbled note from Hermione on the bottom of the letter, it read, "Well done, Harry, Happy Birthday, See you soon. Love, Hermione."
Harry folded the letter away, confused, everyone seemed to know he wasn't going to The Burrow tonight except him. Where else would two Aurors and a werewolf be escorting him to? He gathered together his trunks, and Hedwig's cage, and made his way down the stairs, aided by Tonks, who knocked over nearly more than she carried. Moody and Lupin were sittin awkwardly in the living room, waiting for Harry, avoiding Aunt Petunia's slightly wary stare.
"You ready then, Harry?" said Moody gruffly, pulling an old toaster out of his pocket. Harry said, "We're travelling by Portkey?", as Aunt Petunia looked horrified at the rust and stale crumbs now showering her carpet. "Yeah", said Tonks, "It'll be easiest, certainly less trouble than flying. It's all above board, Cornelius Fudge authorised this Portkey himself. Funny, how much he wants to help Dumbledore now, isn't it" she smiled wryly.
"Are we all ready then? Tonks, you have Harry's trunk? And you Harry, you have your, um, forms, that your aunt signed? Ok, Moody, I think we're ready", said Lupin, breathlessly.
"Portus", said Moody, tapping the toaster with his wand. As he reached forward to grab the toaster, he realised that no one had actually told him where the Portkey would take them. He felt a flitter of mild concern, and then the next thing he knew, the ground had been wrenched away from him, his fingertips seemed attached to the toaster, and he was flying through the air in a rush of colours and a hiss of wind. It quite made him forget that he didn't know where he was headed.