The Forgotten Secret
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters created by J.K. Rowling
Chapter 1 The Little Golden Box The wind was whispering quietly through the leaves on the trees, as Dudley Dursley sat on the front porch with his best friend, Piers Polkiss. Dudley and Piers went to the same secondary school, Smeltings, where Dudley was continuing to compete in Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing, and Piers was still his faithful sidekick, looking the same as ever, a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. Right now, however they were sitting on the Dursley's front porch watching the storm roll in. "Hey Big D," said Piers, "that was some upper cut you gave that Evans kid."
"Yeah it will teach him not to give me lip, huh?" stated Dudley proudly. Piers smiled and shook his head at his friend, "Yep it sure will, one day he will learn who rules this neighborhood." The two sat and watched the distant storm that was starting to roll in.
"Well Big D, I gotta go," Piers said with regret. "I need to get home so I can go with my parents to London. We're picking up my Aunt Mitildia from the train. Man I hate her."
"Ok see ya Piers," Dudley said with laughter, "Have a good time."
As Piers walked away, Dudley sat on the porch and shivered. "If it was dark out right now it would be just like that, that night." As he rose from the porch and reached the front door, he looked over his shoulder to see if anything was there. Of course, there was not, but one can never be too sure.
The boy who lived was seated in the tallest tree in the front of the house, as he watched the conversation between Dudley and Piers. He wasn't a bad looking boy if you knew him, just a bit neglected. Holes and tears in his jeans, his t-shirt dirty and baggy, his shoes coming apart at the seams, needing to be glued again, a typical teenager of sorts. He didn't chuckle as he watched Dudley turn around before going in the house. This boy who lived remembered all too well, what Dudley was feeling. It's one of those things that you just can't forget. The cold, the feeling of emptiness, the dark unhappy feeling like no other. The feeling of all happiness being sucked out of you. The feeling of a Dementor.
The dementors appeared last year about this time, sent by none other then a professor at Hogwarts. Well she wasn't a professor at the time. She wanted to get Harry to use his magic and to be expelled from Hogwarts. It didn't work though, it did come awful close, but in the end, she failed.
As Harry thought back on the past year, the storm clouds were getting darker and the lightning was off in the distance. The thunder was rumbling, as Harry climbed down from the upper branches of the tree. He stopped. "Man I hope Hedwig is going to make it home ok in this weather," Said Harry eyeing the storm. "Dudley was right, if it was dark.........."
"BOY..... BOY! Get in this house right now," bellowed Uncle Vernon. "Your Aunt wishes to have a word with you." "Here we go again," Harry thought. "I wonder what they want now?" Harry finished climbing to the lowest branch of the tree and jumped down. He stood up and brushed himself off. As he started up the front steps of the porch the lightening crashed in the dark clouds behind him. He got to the top of the steps to meet Uncle Vernon's glaze as the deep rumble of thunder sounded. "Looks like it might rain tonight Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "Looks like some storm coming in."
Uncle Vernon a big beefy man with hardly any neck at all and a very large mustache barely shook his head in agreement. "Your aunt is waiting for you in the living room." Uncle Vernon grumbled, "She shouldn't have to wait on the likes of you." As Harry entered the living room, he was shocked to see Hedwig sitting on the back of the sofa. Aunt Petunia was attaching a post to the snowy owl's leg. Aunt Petunia looked up at Harry as she finished. "Oh here you are," she stated. Aunt Petunia was a frail woman, very skinny and blond, she had a rather long neck though for getting her nose into other peoples business. "You know where to go," she said as she turned and looked at Hedwig. With that, Hedwig took flight out the open window. After she was gone, Uncle Vernon promptly shut and locked the window. "Harry," Aunt Petunia began. "I know. "Where did you send my owl?" Harry asked. With a deep sigh, Aunt Petunia started again. "Harry would you please sit down?" Harry looked to his aunt then to the locked window. The lightning flashed and brightened the room. "But, my." Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the shoulder. "You heard your aunt," barked Uncle Vernon. "Sit down as she asked. You are not to ignore her." Harry sat where he was told and looked from his aunt to his uncle. "Well what is it you needed to talk to me about?" asked Harry angrily. "What is it you wanted now?" "Harry," Aunt Petunia began. "This came for you earlier," Aunt Petunia was holding a piece of parchment. "I have taken the liberty of answering.."
"You read my mail?" Harry asked angrily. "Answering it for you," Aunt Petunia continued, as if never interrupted. "The Weasley's asked if you would like to spend the rest of the holidays with them. They will be coming for you tomorrow at noon." Harry looked at his aunt in amazement. "Let me get this straight," Harry said. "You have read my mail, and I'm going to spend the rest of the holidays with the Weasley's?" "Boy watch your tone with your aunt," demanded Uncle Vernon. His face was deep purple as he was doing everything he could to contain himself. "Harry," Aunt Petunia began, looking at him with the softest eyes he had ever seen her have. "This was left with us about eighteen years ago by your parents." Looking down next to his Aunt Petunia Harry noticed a little golden box. His aunt reached down and picked it up. "Your parents came to us and told us to give this to you when the time was right." Uncle Vernon coughed and with a sigh, he sat down next to Harry. "Boy. Harry," he began. "When your parents came to us and told us that Voldemort was gaining more power. They made us promise that their son would be given this little box when the time was right." Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "At this point you weren't even born yet," Aunt Petunia said. "Fact of the matter was your mother wasn't even pregnant with you." Petunia handed Harry the golden box, engraved across the top were the words "The Boy Who Lived." "Your father told us," Vernon said. "That this box had been handed down from father to son since the founding of Hogwarts." "No one knows what's in it," Aunt Petunia interjected. "We asked Dumbledore about it, however he had......" "He had no bloody clue what it was," Uncle Vernon interrupted. "No bloody clue!" Uncle Vernon got off the couch and walked to the window. The clouds in the distance were coming closer. They were darker and looked more threatening. The lightning was bouncing from cloud to cloud and the thunder was booming. "He sends you to us, puts you on the door step, for your aunt to find in the morning instead of the milk." "Vernon calm down please," Aunt Petunia said gently. "No I will not calm down," Uncle Vernon bellowed. "It's about time I said my peace." Uncle Vernon turned and faced Aunt Petunia. "We walked away from this Petunia, walked away for them," Uncle Vernon began. "And now, now...." "Vernon stop, not in front of Harry..." "NO! He needs to be told.." "But Vernon we were told.." "NO! THIS IS MY HOUSE, AND I WILL NOT BE TREATED LIKE A CHILD IN MY OWN HOME!" Uncle Vernon yelled at the top of his voice. Out of nowhere came a brown tawny owl with an orange rolled piece of parchment in its claw. The owl flew over Uncle Vernon's head and dropped the parchment in front of him. Before the parchment hit the ground, it came unrolled and a large bellowing voice filled the room.
"VERNON DURSLEY YOU GAVE YOUR WORD" With this being said the parchment exploded and a large bang filled the air. "What was that?" Harry asked. "OUT! OUT! OUT!" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hollered together. "Who was that from?" Harry asked. "Harry go and get your things packed," Aunt Petunia said. All the color had drained from her face. "Just go and get packed." "Go," Uncle Vernon interjected. "Just go and do as you aunt has told you." Harry looked from his aunt to his uncle. He had never seen all the color ever drain from his uncle's face before. This big beefy man looked some how much smaller. His aunt seemed somehow more frail. Harry knew when he was defeated, and now was not the time to argue. He arose from the couch with the golden box in his hands and started to walk toward the stairs. "Harry?" His aunt called. Harry turned around and looked at his aunt. "That box Harry," she began. "Will only open on its own and in its own time. Keep it safe," she said. He glanced down at the object in his hand. "I will," Harry said. He started up the stairs with one thought on his mind. "In my hands I hold something given to me by my parents. What is the world is going on?" As Harry reached the top of the stairs and walked into his room to pack. Dudley Dursley still sat in the shadows of the living room wondering what his parents had walked away from.
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters created by J.K. Rowling
Chapter 1 The Little Golden Box The wind was whispering quietly through the leaves on the trees, as Dudley Dursley sat on the front porch with his best friend, Piers Polkiss. Dudley and Piers went to the same secondary school, Smeltings, where Dudley was continuing to compete in Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing, and Piers was still his faithful sidekick, looking the same as ever, a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. Right now, however they were sitting on the Dursley's front porch watching the storm roll in. "Hey Big D," said Piers, "that was some upper cut you gave that Evans kid."
"Yeah it will teach him not to give me lip, huh?" stated Dudley proudly. Piers smiled and shook his head at his friend, "Yep it sure will, one day he will learn who rules this neighborhood." The two sat and watched the distant storm that was starting to roll in.
"Well Big D, I gotta go," Piers said with regret. "I need to get home so I can go with my parents to London. We're picking up my Aunt Mitildia from the train. Man I hate her."
"Ok see ya Piers," Dudley said with laughter, "Have a good time."
As Piers walked away, Dudley sat on the porch and shivered. "If it was dark out right now it would be just like that, that night." As he rose from the porch and reached the front door, he looked over his shoulder to see if anything was there. Of course, there was not, but one can never be too sure.
The boy who lived was seated in the tallest tree in the front of the house, as he watched the conversation between Dudley and Piers. He wasn't a bad looking boy if you knew him, just a bit neglected. Holes and tears in his jeans, his t-shirt dirty and baggy, his shoes coming apart at the seams, needing to be glued again, a typical teenager of sorts. He didn't chuckle as he watched Dudley turn around before going in the house. This boy who lived remembered all too well, what Dudley was feeling. It's one of those things that you just can't forget. The cold, the feeling of emptiness, the dark unhappy feeling like no other. The feeling of all happiness being sucked out of you. The feeling of a Dementor.
The dementors appeared last year about this time, sent by none other then a professor at Hogwarts. Well she wasn't a professor at the time. She wanted to get Harry to use his magic and to be expelled from Hogwarts. It didn't work though, it did come awful close, but in the end, she failed.
As Harry thought back on the past year, the storm clouds were getting darker and the lightning was off in the distance. The thunder was rumbling, as Harry climbed down from the upper branches of the tree. He stopped. "Man I hope Hedwig is going to make it home ok in this weather," Said Harry eyeing the storm. "Dudley was right, if it was dark.........."
"BOY..... BOY! Get in this house right now," bellowed Uncle Vernon. "Your Aunt wishes to have a word with you." "Here we go again," Harry thought. "I wonder what they want now?" Harry finished climbing to the lowest branch of the tree and jumped down. He stood up and brushed himself off. As he started up the front steps of the porch the lightening crashed in the dark clouds behind him. He got to the top of the steps to meet Uncle Vernon's glaze as the deep rumble of thunder sounded. "Looks like it might rain tonight Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "Looks like some storm coming in."
Uncle Vernon a big beefy man with hardly any neck at all and a very large mustache barely shook his head in agreement. "Your aunt is waiting for you in the living room." Uncle Vernon grumbled, "She shouldn't have to wait on the likes of you." As Harry entered the living room, he was shocked to see Hedwig sitting on the back of the sofa. Aunt Petunia was attaching a post to the snowy owl's leg. Aunt Petunia looked up at Harry as she finished. "Oh here you are," she stated. Aunt Petunia was a frail woman, very skinny and blond, she had a rather long neck though for getting her nose into other peoples business. "You know where to go," she said as she turned and looked at Hedwig. With that, Hedwig took flight out the open window. After she was gone, Uncle Vernon promptly shut and locked the window. "Harry," Aunt Petunia began. "I know. "Where did you send my owl?" Harry asked. With a deep sigh, Aunt Petunia started again. "Harry would you please sit down?" Harry looked to his aunt then to the locked window. The lightning flashed and brightened the room. "But, my." Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the shoulder. "You heard your aunt," barked Uncle Vernon. "Sit down as she asked. You are not to ignore her." Harry sat where he was told and looked from his aunt to his uncle. "Well what is it you needed to talk to me about?" asked Harry angrily. "What is it you wanted now?" "Harry," Aunt Petunia began. "This came for you earlier," Aunt Petunia was holding a piece of parchment. "I have taken the liberty of answering.."
"You read my mail?" Harry asked angrily. "Answering it for you," Aunt Petunia continued, as if never interrupted. "The Weasley's asked if you would like to spend the rest of the holidays with them. They will be coming for you tomorrow at noon." Harry looked at his aunt in amazement. "Let me get this straight," Harry said. "You have read my mail, and I'm going to spend the rest of the holidays with the Weasley's?" "Boy watch your tone with your aunt," demanded Uncle Vernon. His face was deep purple as he was doing everything he could to contain himself. "Harry," Aunt Petunia began, looking at him with the softest eyes he had ever seen her have. "This was left with us about eighteen years ago by your parents." Looking down next to his Aunt Petunia Harry noticed a little golden box. His aunt reached down and picked it up. "Your parents came to us and told us to give this to you when the time was right." Uncle Vernon coughed and with a sigh, he sat down next to Harry. "Boy. Harry," he began. "When your parents came to us and told us that Voldemort was gaining more power. They made us promise that their son would be given this little box when the time was right." Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "At this point you weren't even born yet," Aunt Petunia said. "Fact of the matter was your mother wasn't even pregnant with you." Petunia handed Harry the golden box, engraved across the top were the words "The Boy Who Lived." "Your father told us," Vernon said. "That this box had been handed down from father to son since the founding of Hogwarts." "No one knows what's in it," Aunt Petunia interjected. "We asked Dumbledore about it, however he had......" "He had no bloody clue what it was," Uncle Vernon interrupted. "No bloody clue!" Uncle Vernon got off the couch and walked to the window. The clouds in the distance were coming closer. They were darker and looked more threatening. The lightning was bouncing from cloud to cloud and the thunder was booming. "He sends you to us, puts you on the door step, for your aunt to find in the morning instead of the milk." "Vernon calm down please," Aunt Petunia said gently. "No I will not calm down," Uncle Vernon bellowed. "It's about time I said my peace." Uncle Vernon turned and faced Aunt Petunia. "We walked away from this Petunia, walked away for them," Uncle Vernon began. "And now, now...." "Vernon stop, not in front of Harry..." "NO! He needs to be told.." "But Vernon we were told.." "NO! THIS IS MY HOUSE, AND I WILL NOT BE TREATED LIKE A CHILD IN MY OWN HOME!" Uncle Vernon yelled at the top of his voice. Out of nowhere came a brown tawny owl with an orange rolled piece of parchment in its claw. The owl flew over Uncle Vernon's head and dropped the parchment in front of him. Before the parchment hit the ground, it came unrolled and a large bellowing voice filled the room.
"VERNON DURSLEY YOU GAVE YOUR WORD" With this being said the parchment exploded and a large bang filled the air. "What was that?" Harry asked. "OUT! OUT! OUT!" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hollered together. "Who was that from?" Harry asked. "Harry go and get your things packed," Aunt Petunia said. All the color had drained from her face. "Just go and get packed." "Go," Uncle Vernon interjected. "Just go and do as you aunt has told you." Harry looked from his aunt to his uncle. He had never seen all the color ever drain from his uncle's face before. This big beefy man looked some how much smaller. His aunt seemed somehow more frail. Harry knew when he was defeated, and now was not the time to argue. He arose from the couch with the golden box in his hands and started to walk toward the stairs. "Harry?" His aunt called. Harry turned around and looked at his aunt. "That box Harry," she began. "Will only open on its own and in its own time. Keep it safe," she said. He glanced down at the object in his hand. "I will," Harry said. He started up the stairs with one thought on his mind. "In my hands I hold something given to me by my parents. What is the world is going on?" As Harry reached the top of the stairs and walked into his room to pack. Dudley Dursley still sat in the shadows of the living room wondering what his parents had walked away from.