Note: My first fanfic here. reviews are always appreciated. I don't mind
flames-it's your wasted time. You can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I
don't own any of the characters except those not in the HP books (gee,
really?). Enjoy, hopefully.
Privet Drive was the same square neighborhood as it had always been; fastidiously kept lawns were splashes of bright green among the gray and black sidewalk and pavement, and a few of the more interesting neighbors had painted their homes colors other than the standard off-white, but altogether, boredom reigned in this particular patch of Little Whinging, Britain.
This boredom reigned especially in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, the living quarters of one Harry James Potter, who, on this gray-skied August morning, had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday. Only one of his presents had come by other than owl post-a hideously gaudy yellow and black striped tie, shoved through the dogflap inserted in his door quite a while ago by the patriarch of the household, Vernon Dursley. The Dursleys had been taking care (in the loosest sense of the expression) of Harry Potter since the boy had been one year old. In "exchange", they forced him, most days, to fix their meals, sweep up after them, and generally be the punching bag of Dudley, their son.
Dudley had received a warning of impending expulsion from Smeltings, the boarding school he had attended for the past several years, and, for once, the Dursleys could not blame their son's misbehavior on their other charge. This posed quite a conundrum to them, for their son was on probation at Smeltings, and one more instance of rulebreaking would have him booted-permanently. So, the three of them-Vernon, his long-necked wife, Petunia, and the porcine troublemaker in question, Dudley-piled into the car and pulled away with a screech of tires, leaving Harry in a familiar position-locked in his own miniscule bedroom. He could hardly complain, though. They had forgotten to give him chores to do, and even if they had remembered, he was locked inside, unable to do anything. Finally, Harry would have time to open the presents that had come to him by owl-he had been driven around the house the day before (his birthday) with vigor previously unknown to Vernon Dursley, and, at the end of the exhausting day, had collapsed in bed, having an unusually easy time of falling into a dreamless sleep. Harry was used to opening his presents alone, and so he picked up the first parcel, noting the handwriting on the letter Spell-o-taped to the outside, which he ripped off and opened. From the untidy scrawl, he could tell it was his friend, Ron, who had sent the package.
Dear Harry,
Won't ask about your summer with the Muggles. I'm at Padfoot's right
now-so's the rest of the family, along with Hermione. Can't put much
in my letter, except that Lupin has been acting oddly around me.
dropping hints about something, cornering me to talk about you and
Hermione. I expect it has something to do with keeping us safe.
That's all they ever talk about. We'll be coming to get you soon.
Enjoy the present, write back and tell me how they are.
Ron
Harry eagerly tore into the package-under the brown paper lay a box of chocolates, still in their cellophane. That's odd. Ron would have had chocolates before, why would he ask? Harry ran his short fingernails over the wrapping, tearing the lid off of the chocolate box. Another letter was concealed on top of the chocolates, scrawled in the same handwriting.
Read it twice.
Ron
Harry looked at the fragment of parchment, practically tearing the chocolate box up in his zeal to find some other communication from Ron, something to tell him what that meant. He reread both of the notes from Ron, not knowing what to expect. Eventually, Harry put the chocolates to the side, and searched through the pile of parcels until he found Hermione's package.
Harry-
Dumbledore seemed to like this present. It'll come in handy. Hope
you did well on your OWL's.
Hermione
The same short, blank notes he had been receiving all summer long. He had no news, nothing! His OWL results hadn't come yet, which was another odd thing. Weren't they supposed to come in July? Harry filed this mentally, and opened the rectangular, inch-thick package Hermione had sent him. A book, perhaps? Yes, indeed-Occlumency for the Beginner, by Artemis Cache. That would explain Hermione's note, anyway, as Dumbledore was the one for him to suggest the failed Occlumency lessons he had taken with Professor Snape over the past spring.
Next on the pile of packages was one from Fred and George Weasley. Knowing them well, Harry decided to open the box away from him, especially as there was no note. A wise decision, as a deafening roar sounded from the box and a small kitten leaped out. Harry glared at it as it opened its mouth, roaring again. At the bottom of the box was a note from the Weasleys-
Harry-
One of our favorite jokes, for our financial backer.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
The kitten purred quietly, climbing drowsily onto Harry's feet and curling up there. It soon fell asleep, and, as it did so, vanished entirely.
P.S. If you want to bring him back, tap this note with your wand and
call his name-"Ronniekins". -Fred
Harry put the note with his school things, loathe to touch and to accidentally set it off, awakening the neighbors. Next on the pile was a package that appeared to be another book. Harry's name was on the paper in oddly familiar handwriting. Tearing the package open, Harry glimpsed the title, Practical Potionmaking, before yet another letter flapped out onto the floor.
Harry-
Here's hoping this finds you well. I hope you enjoyed Ron's present.
Snape told me to send you this, and so I did. maybe you'll get some
use out of it. Your real birthday present is still here at Padfoot's.
R. Lupin
P.S. Remember to write Ron back about his present.
Now, this was too strange. Harry put the book to the side, certain it
had something to do with Ron's oddly worded second note. They were trying to get him to do something. Harry reached for the last package, a large one from Mrs. Weasley. It contained a box of homemade hard candy, as well as a silvery cloak-fastening pin that looked like a Snitch. The usual letter accompanied it-yet another one full of empty platitudes and that told him nothing he didn't already know.
Hedwig hooted softly from her cage, bringing Harry's attention to her water dish. "Sorry, girl, I don't have anything, and I'm locked in." Hedwig clicked her beak in reply and nestled her head under her feathers. Harry opened Practical Potionmaking and began to read.
Privet Drive was the same square neighborhood as it had always been; fastidiously kept lawns were splashes of bright green among the gray and black sidewalk and pavement, and a few of the more interesting neighbors had painted their homes colors other than the standard off-white, but altogether, boredom reigned in this particular patch of Little Whinging, Britain.
This boredom reigned especially in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, the living quarters of one Harry James Potter, who, on this gray-skied August morning, had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday. Only one of his presents had come by other than owl post-a hideously gaudy yellow and black striped tie, shoved through the dogflap inserted in his door quite a while ago by the patriarch of the household, Vernon Dursley. The Dursleys had been taking care (in the loosest sense of the expression) of Harry Potter since the boy had been one year old. In "exchange", they forced him, most days, to fix their meals, sweep up after them, and generally be the punching bag of Dudley, their son.
Dudley had received a warning of impending expulsion from Smeltings, the boarding school he had attended for the past several years, and, for once, the Dursleys could not blame their son's misbehavior on their other charge. This posed quite a conundrum to them, for their son was on probation at Smeltings, and one more instance of rulebreaking would have him booted-permanently. So, the three of them-Vernon, his long-necked wife, Petunia, and the porcine troublemaker in question, Dudley-piled into the car and pulled away with a screech of tires, leaving Harry in a familiar position-locked in his own miniscule bedroom. He could hardly complain, though. They had forgotten to give him chores to do, and even if they had remembered, he was locked inside, unable to do anything. Finally, Harry would have time to open the presents that had come to him by owl-he had been driven around the house the day before (his birthday) with vigor previously unknown to Vernon Dursley, and, at the end of the exhausting day, had collapsed in bed, having an unusually easy time of falling into a dreamless sleep. Harry was used to opening his presents alone, and so he picked up the first parcel, noting the handwriting on the letter Spell-o-taped to the outside, which he ripped off and opened. From the untidy scrawl, he could tell it was his friend, Ron, who had sent the package.
Dear Harry,
Won't ask about your summer with the Muggles. I'm at Padfoot's right
now-so's the rest of the family, along with Hermione. Can't put much
in my letter, except that Lupin has been acting oddly around me.
dropping hints about something, cornering me to talk about you and
Hermione. I expect it has something to do with keeping us safe.
That's all they ever talk about. We'll be coming to get you soon.
Enjoy the present, write back and tell me how they are.
Ron
Harry eagerly tore into the package-under the brown paper lay a box of chocolates, still in their cellophane. That's odd. Ron would have had chocolates before, why would he ask? Harry ran his short fingernails over the wrapping, tearing the lid off of the chocolate box. Another letter was concealed on top of the chocolates, scrawled in the same handwriting.
Read it twice.
Ron
Harry looked at the fragment of parchment, practically tearing the chocolate box up in his zeal to find some other communication from Ron, something to tell him what that meant. He reread both of the notes from Ron, not knowing what to expect. Eventually, Harry put the chocolates to the side, and searched through the pile of parcels until he found Hermione's package.
Harry-
Dumbledore seemed to like this present. It'll come in handy. Hope
you did well on your OWL's.
Hermione
The same short, blank notes he had been receiving all summer long. He had no news, nothing! His OWL results hadn't come yet, which was another odd thing. Weren't they supposed to come in July? Harry filed this mentally, and opened the rectangular, inch-thick package Hermione had sent him. A book, perhaps? Yes, indeed-Occlumency for the Beginner, by Artemis Cache. That would explain Hermione's note, anyway, as Dumbledore was the one for him to suggest the failed Occlumency lessons he had taken with Professor Snape over the past spring.
Next on the pile of packages was one from Fred and George Weasley. Knowing them well, Harry decided to open the box away from him, especially as there was no note. A wise decision, as a deafening roar sounded from the box and a small kitten leaped out. Harry glared at it as it opened its mouth, roaring again. At the bottom of the box was a note from the Weasleys-
Harry-
One of our favorite jokes, for our financial backer.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
The kitten purred quietly, climbing drowsily onto Harry's feet and curling up there. It soon fell asleep, and, as it did so, vanished entirely.
P.S. If you want to bring him back, tap this note with your wand and
call his name-"Ronniekins". -Fred
Harry put the note with his school things, loathe to touch and to accidentally set it off, awakening the neighbors. Next on the pile was a package that appeared to be another book. Harry's name was on the paper in oddly familiar handwriting. Tearing the package open, Harry glimpsed the title, Practical Potionmaking, before yet another letter flapped out onto the floor.
Harry-
Here's hoping this finds you well. I hope you enjoyed Ron's present.
Snape told me to send you this, and so I did. maybe you'll get some
use out of it. Your real birthday present is still here at Padfoot's.
R. Lupin
P.S. Remember to write Ron back about his present.
Now, this was too strange. Harry put the book to the side, certain it
had something to do with Ron's oddly worded second note. They were trying to get him to do something. Harry reached for the last package, a large one from Mrs. Weasley. It contained a box of homemade hard candy, as well as a silvery cloak-fastening pin that looked like a Snitch. The usual letter accompanied it-yet another one full of empty platitudes and that told him nothing he didn't already know.
Hedwig hooted softly from her cage, bringing Harry's attention to her water dish. "Sorry, girl, I don't have anything, and I'm locked in." Hedwig clicked her beak in reply and nestled her head under her feathers. Harry opened Practical Potionmaking and began to read.