Chapter 1
The dismal holiday
(unless you can come up with a better title)
If anything at all, life at number 4 privet drive was horribly boring. A small, skinny boy with tousled black hair, brilliant green eyes, and a peculiar lightning scar lay on his bed in the smallest room of the house. He was an odd boy, mostly because he was a wizard, a famous wizard, named Harry James Potter. Harry found himself willingly confining himself to his room, and for a change, not facing the objections of his aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley. His cousin, Dudley, had ignored him completely, allowing Harry to lie alone in his room to think. Not that this did very much good, of course. His thoughts seldom comforted him. If he wasn't thinking about Voldemort and his death eaters, and the state of the wizarding world he was so restricted from, his thoughts strayed to Sirius. He missed him, terribly so. The one man who, to Harry, was both guardian and brother, as well as slightly a partner in crime, his godfather. He was dead now, and still, the day before his birthday, weeks after he had returned to the muggle world, Harry had trouble accepting te fact that Sirius had gone. Shock, probably. Every night since that fateful day at the ministry, Harry had practiced Occlumency, the art of blocking one's mind to others, and yet still found himself feeling the emotions of Voldemort, the most evil and feared wizard in over a century.
This summer much followed the same routine as the last one. He would check the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, each morning, and listen to the muggle news each night, hoping for news of what might be happening in the wizarding world, but receiving little to none. Oh, every so often the Daily Prophet would post a story about how incredibly brave and noble he was, but apart from that, his isolation was almost maddening for the lack of information. It was around 8:34 in the morning by then. About twenty minutes ago, Aunt Petunia had served him some grapefruit through the tiny cat flap in his door, which he had eaten sparingly, for he hardly had an appetite. Hedwig, his snowy owl, hooted suddenly, flapping her graceful white wings as a small barn owl tapped the window. Harry scowled. The Daily Prophet wasn't supposed to deliver this late. A muggle could see. Hastily, he wrenched open the window, took the paper from one of it's claws, and dropped several bronze knuts into the leather bag tied to it's other. The bird hooted it's approval, seeing that Harry had accidentally slipped two more knuts than necessary into it's pouch, and flew off. Hedwig watched it enviously, as though wishing she were it. Harry smiled slightly, seeing her eagerness, and opened the door to her small metal bird cage.
"Go on." he said. " Might as well have a bit of fun.
Hedwig hooted gleefully, pecked Harry ever so slightly on his ear, and soared off into the early morning. Harry shut his window and opened the Daily Prophet.
Muggle-Born Witch killed by the Avada Kedavra Curse
Mrs. Tanya Sherrn, department for games and sports,
third to head Ludo Bagman, was found dead in her house
on the third of July this year. Such news has come late, as
her 34 year old cousin, muggle, insisted that burial plannings
and an investigation be conducted before anything so menial
as the press was to find out.
Harry stopped reading there, and flipped through the rest of the paper. There was an article on the Weird Sisters, an advertisement for Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a column on how to keep kneazles out of your yard, and a few more articles about common, everyday news. Nothing besides the headline seemed of any importance to Harry. He sighed, and fell back onto his sheets with a thump. Two more days until his birthday, and then he might have something interesting happen. There was a knock at the door, but Harry didn't answer. Another knock, then whoever it was went away. Harry sighed again. A clap of thunder resounded through the otherwise quiet streets, and a couple of seconds later, rain was pouring down, watering the parched yards.
After about ten minutes, Dudley burst into the room, looking horribly wet.
"Go away." Harry said dully. Just because Dudley couldn't go beating up poor Mark Evans now, didn't mean he was going to give Harry any crap!
"No!" Dudley replied.
"Wow!" Harry said sarcastically. "You really surprised me with that one!"
"Oh, shut-up Potter!"
"Amazing! You've advanced from mono-syllables, to multi-syllables!"
"Shut-it! I want to know what's been wrong with you lately!"
"What-"
"You've been spending all day in here, you never talk to anyone, and you've been talking in your sleep!"
"I have n-"
"You don't talk about that Cedric guy anymore. Now you keep saying 'he's going to come back! Please come back!' or you put on this weird laugh."
"Get lost!" Harry cried, taking out his wand. Dudley had jumped up and ran out of the room before Harry could mutter any nonsense words under his breath.
The next few days passed just as the first. Hedwig returned on the very morning of his birthday, with a small parcel tied to one leg, (probably from Hermione, as she didn't have an owl), a tiny hooting ball of feathers that could only be Ron's Pigwidgeon, and a rather important looking barn owl, carrying a package and several letters. Harry was pleased to see that his gift from Hermione had not been a book, as he had expected, but an amazingly beautiful cloth, about a foot in length and width, and rather than the typical embroidered scene, like a muggle tapestry would have been, it had a minute forest, surrounding a still lake. Deer, squirrels, and other wildlife, including mystical creatures, wandered in and out of it, and occasionally, it might rain. Harry suspected that it might also change with the seasons. Enclosed in a small envelope was a card and a letter. He read the letter first.
Dear Harry,
I hope your summer's been enjoyable. Of course, with the Dursleys, I doubt that's possible.
It's simply awful, being restricted from the wizarding world, isn't it? Now I know how you feel.
I've been vacationing with my parents. We went on a fantastic cruise, all the way to the
Caribbean islands. Would you believe that one of them actually had a hidden wizarding
community on them? That's where I bought this. I even managed to empty my wallet on a few
others. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them, but they were simply wonderful! I thought
might cheer you up and make a good birthday gift. Also, there's a card inside that you might
find interesting. I found it on the island as well. It's got a moving picture of a game they played
on the island. It's sort of like quidditch, if you look at it from a certain point of view. Well, I'd
better send this now, or I won't finish in time to make it to the post office.
Hermione
Harry examined the card, and saw two men racing on bewitched bamboo rods, trying to balance quaffle-like balls on a single hand, while two others obviously from the opposing team flew around them, trying to stop them from going through two huge hoops. The team with the balls succeeded in winning. Harry smiled and placed the card and the letter back in the envelope, and placed it and the tapestry on the side of his desk. The next parcel
was Ron's, and the second Harry had untied the box from Pig's leg, the tiny owl was off again, too energetic to remain. Harry unwrapped his gift, and was quite pleased to see a full box of gifts from the entire Weasley family. From Mrs. Weasley, a box of homemade treacle fudge. From Mr. Weasley, a small pamphlet describing the progress of the professional Quidditch teams. The Tornadoes were still doing quite well. From Ginny, a card that sang Happy Birthday, with an entire choir of voices, much more relaxing than the shrilly-singing one she'd given him as a get-well card in his third year. From the twins, a box of Skiving Snackboxes, two cases of Canary Creams, and a set of their famous fireworks. And last but not least, from Ron, a beautifully carved box, filled with some strange glass balls, like marbles, only they seemed to be filled with something. There was a red one, which seemed to hold a dancing fire inside it, a purple one, which seemed to hold a lightning storm within it, a blue one, which seemed to be filled with water, a green one, which seemed to hold plants, a yellow one, which held a sickly smoke, a pale pink one, which looked like it had thousands of tiny pink balls bouncing around inside of it, and an orange one, which seemed to have a solid mass of chalk within it. Inside the box was also a letter.
Dear Harry,
Sorry I wrote this kind of sloppily. I'm having trouble concentrating.
It's really weird not having Fred and George around with all their noise and stuff, but they're doing really well with their joke shop! They even lent me
some galleons, even though they know I'll probably never pay them back.
That's how I could get you these! They're mood balls! See, they can tell you
which mood you're feeling most strongly, in case you get confused. They were
really expensive, so I hope you appreciate it! As long as you own them, they
won't show anybody else's emotions but yours! Plus, they won't break, so we'll
never have to find out what's really in those yellow and orange ones! Ugh! See,
the purple one is anger, the red is excitement, the blue is sadness, the green is
jealousy, the orange is happiness, the pink is fear, and the yellow is nervousness.
They glow to tell you which one you're feeling the most. Cool, huh?
Oh! And dad told me to tell you the usual. Don't leave the house unless
you have to, don't do anything rash, and mum wants you to stay safe, and away
from dementors this summer. I think she was joking. Fred and George also wanted
to send you some ton-tongue toffees, but mum wouldn't let them, and we all decided
that the instant swamps were just a little dangerous. Well, see you at school.
Ron.
P.S. How did you do on your O.W.L.s?
His O.W.L.s. Harry hadn't even thought about them! He glanced again at the marble balls. The pink and orange ones were glowing slightly. He then turned his attention to the important-looking owl. The second he removed it's burden, it glanced haughtily at Hedwig, took a gulp of water, and took off. Harry opened the package, and found a plate of Hagrid's infamous rock cakes, and a letter inside wishing him a happy birthday. One of the letters had his school supply lis, and the last one had his O.W.L scores. With a shaking palm, he opened it and pulled out the letter, and felt his jaw drop.
Defense Against the Dark Arts Outstanding
Potions Outstanding
Transfiguration Excellent
Charms Excellent
Divination Average
Care of Magical Creatures Excellent
Astronomy Average
Herbology Average
For a few more seconds he just stared. He had completely aced his O.W.L.s, and made an Outstanding on potions! He'd made an Outstanding on his worst class! Gently, he set the piece of parchment down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. At first, relief spread through him, that he hadn't gotten Dismal or Troll on it. Then dread. He was going through a whole other year of potions! Well, at least Hermione would be with him.
He sighed and gathered all his gifts into a small pile, then jumped as yet another bird came soaring through his window. It was a silky screech owl holding a thin, tube like parcel. Harry took it from the bird's leg, and it hopped off to join Hedwig. Opening the tube, he pulled out an edition og The Quibbler, from Luna Lovegood. Harry supposed she had sent it as a birthday present. Odd, though. Nobody but Hermione, Hagrid, Sirius, and the Weasleys had ever given him a gift before! Very odd, but then, Luna Lovegood was a very odd person. Harry grinned and opened it up to read the absolute nonsense it provided. He was only going to be spending one more week here at the Dursleys, then they would drop him off at the Leaky Cauldron so he could venture into Diagon Alley for the rest of the summer, then pick him up the day he was to be at King's Cross station and leave him at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. At least this week might not be so bad. At least, with all these gifts, his O.W.L scores, and the promise of returning to the wizarding world, he hoped it wouldn't.
ok, whaddaya think? r&r please! oh! and, if you have any suggestions, ideas, requests, etc. . . . . We need some sort of mischief to freak out the Dursleys at Kings Cross.-Talon
The dismal holiday
(unless you can come up with a better title)
If anything at all, life at number 4 privet drive was horribly boring. A small, skinny boy with tousled black hair, brilliant green eyes, and a peculiar lightning scar lay on his bed in the smallest room of the house. He was an odd boy, mostly because he was a wizard, a famous wizard, named Harry James Potter. Harry found himself willingly confining himself to his room, and for a change, not facing the objections of his aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley. His cousin, Dudley, had ignored him completely, allowing Harry to lie alone in his room to think. Not that this did very much good, of course. His thoughts seldom comforted him. If he wasn't thinking about Voldemort and his death eaters, and the state of the wizarding world he was so restricted from, his thoughts strayed to Sirius. He missed him, terribly so. The one man who, to Harry, was both guardian and brother, as well as slightly a partner in crime, his godfather. He was dead now, and still, the day before his birthday, weeks after he had returned to the muggle world, Harry had trouble accepting te fact that Sirius had gone. Shock, probably. Every night since that fateful day at the ministry, Harry had practiced Occlumency, the art of blocking one's mind to others, and yet still found himself feeling the emotions of Voldemort, the most evil and feared wizard in over a century.
This summer much followed the same routine as the last one. He would check the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, each morning, and listen to the muggle news each night, hoping for news of what might be happening in the wizarding world, but receiving little to none. Oh, every so often the Daily Prophet would post a story about how incredibly brave and noble he was, but apart from that, his isolation was almost maddening for the lack of information. It was around 8:34 in the morning by then. About twenty minutes ago, Aunt Petunia had served him some grapefruit through the tiny cat flap in his door, which he had eaten sparingly, for he hardly had an appetite. Hedwig, his snowy owl, hooted suddenly, flapping her graceful white wings as a small barn owl tapped the window. Harry scowled. The Daily Prophet wasn't supposed to deliver this late. A muggle could see. Hastily, he wrenched open the window, took the paper from one of it's claws, and dropped several bronze knuts into the leather bag tied to it's other. The bird hooted it's approval, seeing that Harry had accidentally slipped two more knuts than necessary into it's pouch, and flew off. Hedwig watched it enviously, as though wishing she were it. Harry smiled slightly, seeing her eagerness, and opened the door to her small metal bird cage.
"Go on." he said. " Might as well have a bit of fun.
Hedwig hooted gleefully, pecked Harry ever so slightly on his ear, and soared off into the early morning. Harry shut his window and opened the Daily Prophet.
Muggle-Born Witch killed by the Avada Kedavra Curse
Mrs. Tanya Sherrn, department for games and sports,
third to head Ludo Bagman, was found dead in her house
on the third of July this year. Such news has come late, as
her 34 year old cousin, muggle, insisted that burial plannings
and an investigation be conducted before anything so menial
as the press was to find out.
Harry stopped reading there, and flipped through the rest of the paper. There was an article on the Weird Sisters, an advertisement for Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a column on how to keep kneazles out of your yard, and a few more articles about common, everyday news. Nothing besides the headline seemed of any importance to Harry. He sighed, and fell back onto his sheets with a thump. Two more days until his birthday, and then he might have something interesting happen. There was a knock at the door, but Harry didn't answer. Another knock, then whoever it was went away. Harry sighed again. A clap of thunder resounded through the otherwise quiet streets, and a couple of seconds later, rain was pouring down, watering the parched yards.
After about ten minutes, Dudley burst into the room, looking horribly wet.
"Go away." Harry said dully. Just because Dudley couldn't go beating up poor Mark Evans now, didn't mean he was going to give Harry any crap!
"No!" Dudley replied.
"Wow!" Harry said sarcastically. "You really surprised me with that one!"
"Oh, shut-up Potter!"
"Amazing! You've advanced from mono-syllables, to multi-syllables!"
"Shut-it! I want to know what's been wrong with you lately!"
"What-"
"You've been spending all day in here, you never talk to anyone, and you've been talking in your sleep!"
"I have n-"
"You don't talk about that Cedric guy anymore. Now you keep saying 'he's going to come back! Please come back!' or you put on this weird laugh."
"Get lost!" Harry cried, taking out his wand. Dudley had jumped up and ran out of the room before Harry could mutter any nonsense words under his breath.
The next few days passed just as the first. Hedwig returned on the very morning of his birthday, with a small parcel tied to one leg, (probably from Hermione, as she didn't have an owl), a tiny hooting ball of feathers that could only be Ron's Pigwidgeon, and a rather important looking barn owl, carrying a package and several letters. Harry was pleased to see that his gift from Hermione had not been a book, as he had expected, but an amazingly beautiful cloth, about a foot in length and width, and rather than the typical embroidered scene, like a muggle tapestry would have been, it had a minute forest, surrounding a still lake. Deer, squirrels, and other wildlife, including mystical creatures, wandered in and out of it, and occasionally, it might rain. Harry suspected that it might also change with the seasons. Enclosed in a small envelope was a card and a letter. He read the letter first.
Dear Harry,
I hope your summer's been enjoyable. Of course, with the Dursleys, I doubt that's possible.
It's simply awful, being restricted from the wizarding world, isn't it? Now I know how you feel.
I've been vacationing with my parents. We went on a fantastic cruise, all the way to the
Caribbean islands. Would you believe that one of them actually had a hidden wizarding
community on them? That's where I bought this. I even managed to empty my wallet on a few
others. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them, but they were simply wonderful! I thought
might cheer you up and make a good birthday gift. Also, there's a card inside that you might
find interesting. I found it on the island as well. It's got a moving picture of a game they played
on the island. It's sort of like quidditch, if you look at it from a certain point of view. Well, I'd
better send this now, or I won't finish in time to make it to the post office.
Hermione
Harry examined the card, and saw two men racing on bewitched bamboo rods, trying to balance quaffle-like balls on a single hand, while two others obviously from the opposing team flew around them, trying to stop them from going through two huge hoops. The team with the balls succeeded in winning. Harry smiled and placed the card and the letter back in the envelope, and placed it and the tapestry on the side of his desk. The next parcel
was Ron's, and the second Harry had untied the box from Pig's leg, the tiny owl was off again, too energetic to remain. Harry unwrapped his gift, and was quite pleased to see a full box of gifts from the entire Weasley family. From Mrs. Weasley, a box of homemade treacle fudge. From Mr. Weasley, a small pamphlet describing the progress of the professional Quidditch teams. The Tornadoes were still doing quite well. From Ginny, a card that sang Happy Birthday, with an entire choir of voices, much more relaxing than the shrilly-singing one she'd given him as a get-well card in his third year. From the twins, a box of Skiving Snackboxes, two cases of Canary Creams, and a set of their famous fireworks. And last but not least, from Ron, a beautifully carved box, filled with some strange glass balls, like marbles, only they seemed to be filled with something. There was a red one, which seemed to hold a dancing fire inside it, a purple one, which seemed to hold a lightning storm within it, a blue one, which seemed to be filled with water, a green one, which seemed to hold plants, a yellow one, which held a sickly smoke, a pale pink one, which looked like it had thousands of tiny pink balls bouncing around inside of it, and an orange one, which seemed to have a solid mass of chalk within it. Inside the box was also a letter.
Dear Harry,
Sorry I wrote this kind of sloppily. I'm having trouble concentrating.
It's really weird not having Fred and George around with all their noise and stuff, but they're doing really well with their joke shop! They even lent me
some galleons, even though they know I'll probably never pay them back.
That's how I could get you these! They're mood balls! See, they can tell you
which mood you're feeling most strongly, in case you get confused. They were
really expensive, so I hope you appreciate it! As long as you own them, they
won't show anybody else's emotions but yours! Plus, they won't break, so we'll
never have to find out what's really in those yellow and orange ones! Ugh! See,
the purple one is anger, the red is excitement, the blue is sadness, the green is
jealousy, the orange is happiness, the pink is fear, and the yellow is nervousness.
They glow to tell you which one you're feeling the most. Cool, huh?
Oh! And dad told me to tell you the usual. Don't leave the house unless
you have to, don't do anything rash, and mum wants you to stay safe, and away
from dementors this summer. I think she was joking. Fred and George also wanted
to send you some ton-tongue toffees, but mum wouldn't let them, and we all decided
that the instant swamps were just a little dangerous. Well, see you at school.
Ron.
P.S. How did you do on your O.W.L.s?
His O.W.L.s. Harry hadn't even thought about them! He glanced again at the marble balls. The pink and orange ones were glowing slightly. He then turned his attention to the important-looking owl. The second he removed it's burden, it glanced haughtily at Hedwig, took a gulp of water, and took off. Harry opened the package, and found a plate of Hagrid's infamous rock cakes, and a letter inside wishing him a happy birthday. One of the letters had his school supply lis, and the last one had his O.W.L scores. With a shaking palm, he opened it and pulled out the letter, and felt his jaw drop.
Defense Against the Dark Arts Outstanding
Potions Outstanding
Transfiguration Excellent
Charms Excellent
Divination Average
Care of Magical Creatures Excellent
Astronomy Average
Herbology Average
For a few more seconds he just stared. He had completely aced his O.W.L.s, and made an Outstanding on potions! He'd made an Outstanding on his worst class! Gently, he set the piece of parchment down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. At first, relief spread through him, that he hadn't gotten Dismal or Troll on it. Then dread. He was going through a whole other year of potions! Well, at least Hermione would be with him.
He sighed and gathered all his gifts into a small pile, then jumped as yet another bird came soaring through his window. It was a silky screech owl holding a thin, tube like parcel. Harry took it from the bird's leg, and it hopped off to join Hedwig. Opening the tube, he pulled out an edition og The Quibbler, from Luna Lovegood. Harry supposed she had sent it as a birthday present. Odd, though. Nobody but Hermione, Hagrid, Sirius, and the Weasleys had ever given him a gift before! Very odd, but then, Luna Lovegood was a very odd person. Harry grinned and opened it up to read the absolute nonsense it provided. He was only going to be spending one more week here at the Dursleys, then they would drop him off at the Leaky Cauldron so he could venture into Diagon Alley for the rest of the summer, then pick him up the day he was to be at King's Cross station and leave him at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. At least this week might not be so bad. At least, with all these gifts, his O.W.L scores, and the promise of returning to the wizarding world, he hoped it wouldn't.
ok, whaddaya think? r&r please! oh! and, if you have any suggestions, ideas, requests, etc. . . . . We need some sort of mischief to freak out the Dursleys at Kings Cross.-Talon