Chapter One: Unexpected Guests at the Burrow
Harry Potter looked longingly out his window. He sighed and looked out into the night; only a week until he returned to his school, Hogwarts, but it seemed like an eternity.
He got up and walked around his rather small and unusual room (it was unusual because one would not find a trunk with spell books spilling out of it, a broomstick, and a rather large birdcage for his owl, Hedwig, who was out at the moment, in a regular boy's room). He glanced at his clock- 2:32 am. He looked in his mirror and frowned. He saw a skinny 15 year old boy with round glasses and an unruly mass of thick black hair. He tried to smooth it down with his hand, but as usual, his hair had a mind of its own. The only feature Harry liked about himself was a lightning bolt- shaped scar that the Dark Lord Voldemort had given him.
All of a sudden, he heard a fluttering at his window. He turned to find his snowy owl Hedwig, perched on the sill with two letters in her beak. Harry rushed over, gave Hedwig a treat, and got the letters.
He opened the first one, it was from his godfather, Sirius (who happened to be on the run from the Ministry of Magic).
Dear Harry,
How has your summer been? Those Muggles haven't been treating you too badly, have they? If they have, just remind them that you have a convict for a godfather. That'll shut them up.
Harry, now I don't wish to alarm you, but ever since You-Know-Who returned last year, rumors have been circulating that he's gotten new followers-- followers at Hogwarts.
Harry paused. He could not believe what he was reading. It couldn't be true. Hogwarts had always been the one place that Harry felt safe. He continued to read.
Now, it may not be true, but Harry, please keep an eye out and be careful who you trust. I'll be in touch.
Snuffles
Harry sat for a minute, soaking it all in. I'll bet anything that if ther is a Death Eater at Hogwarts, it's Malfoy, he said to himself. He nervously glanced around the room, as if expecting Draco Malfoy himself to pop out of the shadows. He opened the next letter-- it was from Ron.
Hi Harry!
Hope your summer's been good! Mine sure has! Fred and George are showing me how to make loads of joke stuff that we can try out at school! But anyway, want to come to stay with us on Thursday and come with us to Diagon Alley? Tell the Muggles we'll take you to the station. Send word soon!
Ron
P.S. You haven't heard from Hermione lately, have you? I've been sending her letters, but she hasn't answered to one of them!
Now that Harry thought of it, he hadn't heard from Hermione since the last day of school last year-- not even for his birthday. Harry thought it was odd, but didn't see any cause for alarm. Sometimes, when Hermione got caught up in her studies, she didn't talk to anyone for weeks.
Suddenly, Harry heard a thump on his windowsill.
Harry whipped his head around to find Ron's tiny, hyperactive owl, Pigwidgeon, struggling to grip the windowsill. Harry sighed-- it was only Pigwidgeon after all; he was getting jumpy with all the talk of Death Eaters. Harry walked over and hoisted the owl into the room. Pigwidgeon promptly started to hop about, twittering madly on the floor.
"Calm down, with you?" Harry said to the owl, but then he noticed something peculiar about Pigwidgeon; the little owl was still hopping about as energetically as ever, but it looked as if it was limping. On closer inspection, Harry realized that Pigwidgeon looked as if he had been through a rather violent scuffle; his wings were all displaced and he even had a bloody scratch on his face.
"Boy, Pigwidgeon," said Harry. "Have you been through a storm or what?" The bird hooted chipperly in response, and resumed its celebration of delivering Harry's letter.
Then, Harry noticed the note tied to the owl's leg-- it was all beaten up and torn. Harry furrowed his eyebrows and untied the message. What was inside frightened him; the words were scrawled as if in a great hurry, barely legible. He couldn't even make out most of the words-- the note was torn in a lot of places. The few words he could read were: "in danger", "the Burrow", "not much time", "they're coming", "don't know how" and "help ple-" that's where the letter was torn off.
Harry's heart began to race as he read the letter again-- the Burrow!
"Ron!" cried Harry. He grabbed his broom and without a second thought, he mounted it and flew as fast as he could out the window.
Once Harry was in the air and rocketing towards the Burrow, he realized that doing this without putting an invisibility charm on himself and his broom was very stupid. Muggles might be easily startled when they look into the sky to find a 15 year old boy riding a broomstick. Harry was sure that any minute, officials from the Ministry of Magic would track him down and force him to land... but that didn't matter now-- Ron was in danger.
The scenery below Harry rapidly changed from city to country. After a few minutes, Harry saw a rather large, shabby, but cozy house closing in fast. He speeded up and softly landed on the ground outside the front gate. He drew his wand and looked at the house; it was dark and silent. That right away made Harry unnerved-- the Burrow was always filled with lights and laughter. Harry slowly opened the gate and walked up to the door. He paused for a minute, trying to listen, but he heard nothing. He gripped the doorknob, then ripped it open.
"Expelliarmus! Expeliramus! Expeliramus!" he cried, whipping his wand around in all directions.
Harry saw a group of people with flaming red hair, the Weasleys, tied together in a cluster on the floor of the kitchen. Two figures with cloaks and their hoods drawn up stood over them. They both looked up, their faces remaining hidden behind the hoods.
"It's the boy!" hissed one of them, but before they could do anything about it, Harry cried, "Rictusempra!" Both the figures flew back into the air and landed with a thud against the wall. They both got up hastily and one of them pulled out his wand- "Avad-", but before he could finish, the other grabbed his arm.
"No!" he hissed. "His instructions--"
"He wants the boy dead doesn't he?" shrieked the one with the wand. "He will reward us!"
"Don't! He wants to face him alone!" The other sighed exasperatingly. "We must bring the boy to him." While they were arguing, Harry yelled the most powerful curse he knew which sent the two hooded men out through the windows. When Harry looked out the window to finish them off, they were gone.
"Disapparated..." Harry muttered to himself. He heard muffled cries behind him, and turned to loosen the gags on the Weasley family. Ginny was crying, and Fred and George looked frightened out of their wits. Ron was pale as snow as Harry ungagged him.
"Oh, Harry," he said, his voice small and strained. "I thought I was going to die!"
"Ron," said Harry, untying the rest of the family, "What happened? Who were they?"
Harry Potter looked longingly out his window. He sighed and looked out into the night; only a week until he returned to his school, Hogwarts, but it seemed like an eternity.
He got up and walked around his rather small and unusual room (it was unusual because one would not find a trunk with spell books spilling out of it, a broomstick, and a rather large birdcage for his owl, Hedwig, who was out at the moment, in a regular boy's room). He glanced at his clock- 2:32 am. He looked in his mirror and frowned. He saw a skinny 15 year old boy with round glasses and an unruly mass of thick black hair. He tried to smooth it down with his hand, but as usual, his hair had a mind of its own. The only feature Harry liked about himself was a lightning bolt- shaped scar that the Dark Lord Voldemort had given him.
All of a sudden, he heard a fluttering at his window. He turned to find his snowy owl Hedwig, perched on the sill with two letters in her beak. Harry rushed over, gave Hedwig a treat, and got the letters.
He opened the first one, it was from his godfather, Sirius (who happened to be on the run from the Ministry of Magic).
Dear Harry,
How has your summer been? Those Muggles haven't been treating you too badly, have they? If they have, just remind them that you have a convict for a godfather. That'll shut them up.
Harry, now I don't wish to alarm you, but ever since You-Know-Who returned last year, rumors have been circulating that he's gotten new followers-- followers at Hogwarts.
Harry paused. He could not believe what he was reading. It couldn't be true. Hogwarts had always been the one place that Harry felt safe. He continued to read.
Now, it may not be true, but Harry, please keep an eye out and be careful who you trust. I'll be in touch.
Snuffles
Harry sat for a minute, soaking it all in. I'll bet anything that if ther is a Death Eater at Hogwarts, it's Malfoy, he said to himself. He nervously glanced around the room, as if expecting Draco Malfoy himself to pop out of the shadows. He opened the next letter-- it was from Ron.
Hi Harry!
Hope your summer's been good! Mine sure has! Fred and George are showing me how to make loads of joke stuff that we can try out at school! But anyway, want to come to stay with us on Thursday and come with us to Diagon Alley? Tell the Muggles we'll take you to the station. Send word soon!
Ron
P.S. You haven't heard from Hermione lately, have you? I've been sending her letters, but she hasn't answered to one of them!
Now that Harry thought of it, he hadn't heard from Hermione since the last day of school last year-- not even for his birthday. Harry thought it was odd, but didn't see any cause for alarm. Sometimes, when Hermione got caught up in her studies, she didn't talk to anyone for weeks.
Suddenly, Harry heard a thump on his windowsill.
Harry whipped his head around to find Ron's tiny, hyperactive owl, Pigwidgeon, struggling to grip the windowsill. Harry sighed-- it was only Pigwidgeon after all; he was getting jumpy with all the talk of Death Eaters. Harry walked over and hoisted the owl into the room. Pigwidgeon promptly started to hop about, twittering madly on the floor.
"Calm down, with you?" Harry said to the owl, but then he noticed something peculiar about Pigwidgeon; the little owl was still hopping about as energetically as ever, but it looked as if it was limping. On closer inspection, Harry realized that Pigwidgeon looked as if he had been through a rather violent scuffle; his wings were all displaced and he even had a bloody scratch on his face.
"Boy, Pigwidgeon," said Harry. "Have you been through a storm or what?" The bird hooted chipperly in response, and resumed its celebration of delivering Harry's letter.
Then, Harry noticed the note tied to the owl's leg-- it was all beaten up and torn. Harry furrowed his eyebrows and untied the message. What was inside frightened him; the words were scrawled as if in a great hurry, barely legible. He couldn't even make out most of the words-- the note was torn in a lot of places. The few words he could read were: "in danger", "the Burrow", "not much time", "they're coming", "don't know how" and "help ple-" that's where the letter was torn off.
Harry's heart began to race as he read the letter again-- the Burrow!
"Ron!" cried Harry. He grabbed his broom and without a second thought, he mounted it and flew as fast as he could out the window.
Once Harry was in the air and rocketing towards the Burrow, he realized that doing this without putting an invisibility charm on himself and his broom was very stupid. Muggles might be easily startled when they look into the sky to find a 15 year old boy riding a broomstick. Harry was sure that any minute, officials from the Ministry of Magic would track him down and force him to land... but that didn't matter now-- Ron was in danger.
The scenery below Harry rapidly changed from city to country. After a few minutes, Harry saw a rather large, shabby, but cozy house closing in fast. He speeded up and softly landed on the ground outside the front gate. He drew his wand and looked at the house; it was dark and silent. That right away made Harry unnerved-- the Burrow was always filled with lights and laughter. Harry slowly opened the gate and walked up to the door. He paused for a minute, trying to listen, but he heard nothing. He gripped the doorknob, then ripped it open.
"Expelliarmus! Expeliramus! Expeliramus!" he cried, whipping his wand around in all directions.
Harry saw a group of people with flaming red hair, the Weasleys, tied together in a cluster on the floor of the kitchen. Two figures with cloaks and their hoods drawn up stood over them. They both looked up, their faces remaining hidden behind the hoods.
"It's the boy!" hissed one of them, but before they could do anything about it, Harry cried, "Rictusempra!" Both the figures flew back into the air and landed with a thud against the wall. They both got up hastily and one of them pulled out his wand- "Avad-", but before he could finish, the other grabbed his arm.
"No!" he hissed. "His instructions--"
"He wants the boy dead doesn't he?" shrieked the one with the wand. "He will reward us!"
"Don't! He wants to face him alone!" The other sighed exasperatingly. "We must bring the boy to him." While they were arguing, Harry yelled the most powerful curse he knew which sent the two hooded men out through the windows. When Harry looked out the window to finish them off, they were gone.
"Disapparated..." Harry muttered to himself. He heard muffled cries behind him, and turned to loosen the gags on the Weasley family. Ginny was crying, and Fred and George looked frightened out of their wits. Ron was pale as snow as Harry ungagged him.
"Oh, Harry," he said, his voice small and strained. "I thought I was going to die!"
"Ron," said Harry, untying the rest of the family, "What happened? Who were they?"