Summoning Bill.
It was rather fun, in a twisted way, watching the Dursleys flinch when Harry entered the room. He was rarely shouted at and he deserved it then. But four weeks came and went, and sixteen-year-old Harry had begun to tire of the way they acted toward him. One such incident happened on the morning of Harry's birthday. Harry Potter woke up early with a start after another haunting dream. He prodded the lightening-bolt scar on his forehead, but it did not prickle or burn as it usually did after such a dream. He rubbed his eyes and found them wet--with sweat or tears, he didn't know. He took off the bed clothes and swung his legs over the side of his bed, groping in the darkness for his glasses. He found them, put them on, switched on the lamp and stared, blinking around his rather unusual room. At the foot of his bed lay a large wooden trunk, over flowing with books, black robes, socks, t-shirts and jeans. His bedroom floor was in the same disarray, but here and there were pieces of parchment, quills and inkwells, along with plates of crispy, curled food. In one corner, unusually clear, propped up on the wall, was Harry's pride and joy- the Firebolt, the fastest broom ever made, a present from Harry's godfather, Sirius. Harry's eyes lingered on it longingly then looked to the top of his wardrobe. There sat a large cage, empty but for the water tray and perch. Usually, during the day, inside the cage would have sat a large, female, snowy owl by the name of Hedwig. Harry was not a normal teenager. He attended a school called Hogwarts, which taught its students magic beyond anything a child could imagine. Its current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was a great wizard with whom Harry was very close to. Stretching, Harry got up and got dressed, checking himself in the mirror with an enormous yawn. He was a very tall boy, with black unruly hair, that would never lie flat, no matter what. His eyes were bright green, like his mothers, and intelligent, framed by his round, black glasses. His clothes were new and actually fitted him, as, before his aunt and uncle had been threatened by Harry's friends, he had been wearing his cousins, Dudley, very large clothes, as Dudley was a very large boy. He had forced them to buy him clothes or threatened to tell his very threatening looking friends that he was being mistreated. His friends were quite nice to Harry, especially his two best friends Ron and Hermione, but to non-magic muggles like the Dursleys, the werewolf Remus Lupin and the heavily scarred wizard hunter Alastor Moody, were very ominous and crazy freaks. Harry also had the look of someone who had grown and fattened a lot in a short space of time, although he was still quite skinny for someone his age. Running a hand through his hair, Harry made his way downstairs in the semi-darkness of early dawn, yawning all the way. He entered the kitchen and was very surprised to find Dudley sitting at the table, his pig-like eyes fixed on the television. Dudley made no sign of recognition to Harry so he, Harry, helped himself to a slice of pie from the fridge. He sat himself opposite Dudley who glared at him then settled his eyes on the pie. "Who said you could have that?" he mumbled. Harry smiled. "Me, of course. D'you want some, Dud?" he asked, moving toward the fridge. Dudley twitched. "What?" "You-want-pie?" Harry repeated slowly, miming eating the pie. Dudley scowled, rose and slowly backed away from Harry. "Me, take something from you? Are you kidding?" "No. What are you talking about?" Harry said, scowling back. Dudley's thin narrow mouth formed a mirthless smile. Harry was very confused for a moment and then he laughed. "Dudley, come on! I haven't poisoned it, though no doubt you deserve it," he chuckled. His cousins' smile disappeared and he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a sharp rapping on the kitchen window. Harry shook his head and went over to it and pushed it open. It felt like a miniature whirlwind, blurring past Harrys ear and landing on the kitchen table. Dudley squeaked and fell backwards, shaking the floor beneath Harry's feet. Harry suppressed a laugh and went over to Pigwidgeon, the miniature owl whirlwind. The palm-sized owl Pigwidgeon, or Pig, belonged to Harry's best friend Ron and Harry rushed to detach the letter Pig had on his leg. It read, Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday, mate! My mum decided to give you your present when you get here, I haven't forgotten, Harry. Thanks a lot for the chocolate cake, it was huge. Did you use an enlargement charm on it? Hermione got me a sort of back pack for Pig so he can carry packages. You can come here the day Pig gets this letter to you. Got your wand? Just say Summoniaro and hold your wand in the air. Dad'll come get you. We would've used floo powder but dad didn't want to do what happened last time. Did your uncle get the fireplace fixed? Can't wait to see you! Bill and Charlie are here and Hermione will come when she comes back from Hawaii.
Ron.
"So that's why Hermione hasn't written!" said Harry, re-folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. Looking up, he saw that Dudley had gone. Harry shrugged, not really caring were his grossly over-weight cousin had gone. He was finally getting free of the Dursleys! Finally free of their loathing glares and always knowing that he was never welcome in their home.
Harry went to his room and began to pack. But when he was halfway through, he came across a small plain mirror and gasped; it was a mirror Sirius had given him. The mirror enabled the holder to talk to someone far away if they spoke their name to it. Only problem was Harry had shattered it the previous year in a fit of rage. Harry stared at it. He got an idea, took out his wand and muttered, "Reparo!" The glass mended itself. "Sirius?" he whispered, almost cautiously, "Sirius Black?" His hopes shot up as the mirrors face shifted strangely and he brought it to touch his nose, searching for any familiar feature of his godfather. But none came; the mirrors face remained clouded with black smoke then Harry flung it with force into his trunk, slammed the lid shut and sat onto his bed, head in his hands. After a while he raised his head and saw that the sun was fully up now, and Hedwig still wasn't back. He threw the rest of his things in the trunk carelessly, anger boiling up inside him. Sirius had said the mirror could reach him anywhere, so wasn't wherever dead people went anywhere? He picked up his Firebolt and tried to chuck it in the trunk too, knowing that it wouldn't fit but not really caring. He heard his Aunt Petunia making breakfast downstairs and realised he hadn't eaten the pie. No doubt Dudley had told his father, Vernon, about Pig, who sat pecking at Hedwig's owl treats in her cage. Harry stood on tip toe and slammed the cage door shut, making Pigwidgeon twitter angrily. Ignoring it, Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside table, shoved it into the waistband of his jeans and went downstairs, his stomach rumbling. Harrys mothers' only living relative, Petunia, was a pale, horse faced woman, completely different from Harrys mother Lily. Her husband Vernon was just around the same weight as Dudley and reminded Harry of a large beetroot with a moustache. Both he and Dudley sat at the kitchen table when Harry walked in. He sat down, apparently unnoticed, and let Aunt Petunia shove a plateful of food in front of him. He began to eat when Uncle Vernon coughed loudly. "Boy," he said. Harry looked up through his fringe. Uncle Vernon coloured slightly (if that was possible for a beetroot) and continued, " Is it true that another one of those accursed owls entered my house this morning?" He regarded Harry as he swallowed a bite of sausage. " Yeah," Harry replied, " Why?" " Because.you know how I feel about owls, boy!" Uncle Vernon hissed, his temper rising at Harrys casualness. Harry took another bite of sausage, chewed, swallowed and said, "He was only giving me a letter, Uncle Vernon." "A letter!? From that crazy school of yours!?" "No. From my friend, Ron Weasley. I'm going to his house today. Infact," Harry said, getting up and wiping crumbs from his jumper, "I think I'll leave now." Harry retrieved his wand, held it in the air and said, "Summoniaro!" His wand emitted a blast of red light which disappeared through the ceiling. Uncle Vernon fell of his chair, Dudley squealed and hid under the table and Aunt Petunia fainted over the counter. Harry hurried upstairs. When he opened the door, there was a loud crack and Pigwidgeon squawked and flung himself against the bars of the cage. Bill, Ron's older bother, had Apparated, appeared in another place using magic, right on Harrys bed. Bill was a good looking man with bright red hair, like all the Weasley children, tied back in a pony tail and he had a dragon-fang earring through one ear. Harry thought Bill to be very cool looking, even more so then, for he was wearing a rather battered Metallica t-shirt and jeans that were ripped at the knees. He grinned when he saw Harry. " Hullo Harry! You've moved your bed I see," he said, jumping onto the floor and looking around. Harry smiled. " Yeah. How're you doing Bill? I thought your Dad was supposed to come get me?" replied Harry, taking his Firebolt from the trunk and closing it tightly. Bill nodded. "Oh, he was. But he got called of for urgent business at the Ministry. Oh, great! You're all packed then. Hullo Pig!" Bill released Pig from Hedwig's cage and flapped his hands at him as the owl twittered about his head. " Oh, yeah.almost forgot Harry. Your owl's at our house. Is it Hedwig?" Harry nodded, relieved. "Why did she go there?" he asked, puzzled. Bill nodded at Pig. "Ron said she must have met him and went straight there to wait for you. She's smart. And bossy. Got Ron to make a bed for her in his room. Alright then, ready to go? Stand beside your trunk and I'll stand at the other side. Got your Firebolt? I want to have a go on it.alright then." And they disappeared, trunk and all, with another loud crack.
It was rather fun, in a twisted way, watching the Dursleys flinch when Harry entered the room. He was rarely shouted at and he deserved it then. But four weeks came and went, and sixteen-year-old Harry had begun to tire of the way they acted toward him. One such incident happened on the morning of Harry's birthday. Harry Potter woke up early with a start after another haunting dream. He prodded the lightening-bolt scar on his forehead, but it did not prickle or burn as it usually did after such a dream. He rubbed his eyes and found them wet--with sweat or tears, he didn't know. He took off the bed clothes and swung his legs over the side of his bed, groping in the darkness for his glasses. He found them, put them on, switched on the lamp and stared, blinking around his rather unusual room. At the foot of his bed lay a large wooden trunk, over flowing with books, black robes, socks, t-shirts and jeans. His bedroom floor was in the same disarray, but here and there were pieces of parchment, quills and inkwells, along with plates of crispy, curled food. In one corner, unusually clear, propped up on the wall, was Harry's pride and joy- the Firebolt, the fastest broom ever made, a present from Harry's godfather, Sirius. Harry's eyes lingered on it longingly then looked to the top of his wardrobe. There sat a large cage, empty but for the water tray and perch. Usually, during the day, inside the cage would have sat a large, female, snowy owl by the name of Hedwig. Harry was not a normal teenager. He attended a school called Hogwarts, which taught its students magic beyond anything a child could imagine. Its current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was a great wizard with whom Harry was very close to. Stretching, Harry got up and got dressed, checking himself in the mirror with an enormous yawn. He was a very tall boy, with black unruly hair, that would never lie flat, no matter what. His eyes were bright green, like his mothers, and intelligent, framed by his round, black glasses. His clothes were new and actually fitted him, as, before his aunt and uncle had been threatened by Harry's friends, he had been wearing his cousins, Dudley, very large clothes, as Dudley was a very large boy. He had forced them to buy him clothes or threatened to tell his very threatening looking friends that he was being mistreated. His friends were quite nice to Harry, especially his two best friends Ron and Hermione, but to non-magic muggles like the Dursleys, the werewolf Remus Lupin and the heavily scarred wizard hunter Alastor Moody, were very ominous and crazy freaks. Harry also had the look of someone who had grown and fattened a lot in a short space of time, although he was still quite skinny for someone his age. Running a hand through his hair, Harry made his way downstairs in the semi-darkness of early dawn, yawning all the way. He entered the kitchen and was very surprised to find Dudley sitting at the table, his pig-like eyes fixed on the television. Dudley made no sign of recognition to Harry so he, Harry, helped himself to a slice of pie from the fridge. He sat himself opposite Dudley who glared at him then settled his eyes on the pie. "Who said you could have that?" he mumbled. Harry smiled. "Me, of course. D'you want some, Dud?" he asked, moving toward the fridge. Dudley twitched. "What?" "You-want-pie?" Harry repeated slowly, miming eating the pie. Dudley scowled, rose and slowly backed away from Harry. "Me, take something from you? Are you kidding?" "No. What are you talking about?" Harry said, scowling back. Dudley's thin narrow mouth formed a mirthless smile. Harry was very confused for a moment and then he laughed. "Dudley, come on! I haven't poisoned it, though no doubt you deserve it," he chuckled. His cousins' smile disappeared and he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a sharp rapping on the kitchen window. Harry shook his head and went over to it and pushed it open. It felt like a miniature whirlwind, blurring past Harrys ear and landing on the kitchen table. Dudley squeaked and fell backwards, shaking the floor beneath Harry's feet. Harry suppressed a laugh and went over to Pigwidgeon, the miniature owl whirlwind. The palm-sized owl Pigwidgeon, or Pig, belonged to Harry's best friend Ron and Harry rushed to detach the letter Pig had on his leg. It read, Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday, mate! My mum decided to give you your present when you get here, I haven't forgotten, Harry. Thanks a lot for the chocolate cake, it was huge. Did you use an enlargement charm on it? Hermione got me a sort of back pack for Pig so he can carry packages. You can come here the day Pig gets this letter to you. Got your wand? Just say Summoniaro and hold your wand in the air. Dad'll come get you. We would've used floo powder but dad didn't want to do what happened last time. Did your uncle get the fireplace fixed? Can't wait to see you! Bill and Charlie are here and Hermione will come when she comes back from Hawaii.
Ron.
"So that's why Hermione hasn't written!" said Harry, re-folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. Looking up, he saw that Dudley had gone. Harry shrugged, not really caring were his grossly over-weight cousin had gone. He was finally getting free of the Dursleys! Finally free of their loathing glares and always knowing that he was never welcome in their home.
Harry went to his room and began to pack. But when he was halfway through, he came across a small plain mirror and gasped; it was a mirror Sirius had given him. The mirror enabled the holder to talk to someone far away if they spoke their name to it. Only problem was Harry had shattered it the previous year in a fit of rage. Harry stared at it. He got an idea, took out his wand and muttered, "Reparo!" The glass mended itself. "Sirius?" he whispered, almost cautiously, "Sirius Black?" His hopes shot up as the mirrors face shifted strangely and he brought it to touch his nose, searching for any familiar feature of his godfather. But none came; the mirrors face remained clouded with black smoke then Harry flung it with force into his trunk, slammed the lid shut and sat onto his bed, head in his hands. After a while he raised his head and saw that the sun was fully up now, and Hedwig still wasn't back. He threw the rest of his things in the trunk carelessly, anger boiling up inside him. Sirius had said the mirror could reach him anywhere, so wasn't wherever dead people went anywhere? He picked up his Firebolt and tried to chuck it in the trunk too, knowing that it wouldn't fit but not really caring. He heard his Aunt Petunia making breakfast downstairs and realised he hadn't eaten the pie. No doubt Dudley had told his father, Vernon, about Pig, who sat pecking at Hedwig's owl treats in her cage. Harry stood on tip toe and slammed the cage door shut, making Pigwidgeon twitter angrily. Ignoring it, Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside table, shoved it into the waistband of his jeans and went downstairs, his stomach rumbling. Harrys mothers' only living relative, Petunia, was a pale, horse faced woman, completely different from Harrys mother Lily. Her husband Vernon was just around the same weight as Dudley and reminded Harry of a large beetroot with a moustache. Both he and Dudley sat at the kitchen table when Harry walked in. He sat down, apparently unnoticed, and let Aunt Petunia shove a plateful of food in front of him. He began to eat when Uncle Vernon coughed loudly. "Boy," he said. Harry looked up through his fringe. Uncle Vernon coloured slightly (if that was possible for a beetroot) and continued, " Is it true that another one of those accursed owls entered my house this morning?" He regarded Harry as he swallowed a bite of sausage. " Yeah," Harry replied, " Why?" " Because.you know how I feel about owls, boy!" Uncle Vernon hissed, his temper rising at Harrys casualness. Harry took another bite of sausage, chewed, swallowed and said, "He was only giving me a letter, Uncle Vernon." "A letter!? From that crazy school of yours!?" "No. From my friend, Ron Weasley. I'm going to his house today. Infact," Harry said, getting up and wiping crumbs from his jumper, "I think I'll leave now." Harry retrieved his wand, held it in the air and said, "Summoniaro!" His wand emitted a blast of red light which disappeared through the ceiling. Uncle Vernon fell of his chair, Dudley squealed and hid under the table and Aunt Petunia fainted over the counter. Harry hurried upstairs. When he opened the door, there was a loud crack and Pigwidgeon squawked and flung himself against the bars of the cage. Bill, Ron's older bother, had Apparated, appeared in another place using magic, right on Harrys bed. Bill was a good looking man with bright red hair, like all the Weasley children, tied back in a pony tail and he had a dragon-fang earring through one ear. Harry thought Bill to be very cool looking, even more so then, for he was wearing a rather battered Metallica t-shirt and jeans that were ripped at the knees. He grinned when he saw Harry. " Hullo Harry! You've moved your bed I see," he said, jumping onto the floor and looking around. Harry smiled. " Yeah. How're you doing Bill? I thought your Dad was supposed to come get me?" replied Harry, taking his Firebolt from the trunk and closing it tightly. Bill nodded. "Oh, he was. But he got called of for urgent business at the Ministry. Oh, great! You're all packed then. Hullo Pig!" Bill released Pig from Hedwig's cage and flapped his hands at him as the owl twittered about his head. " Oh, yeah.almost forgot Harry. Your owl's at our house. Is it Hedwig?" Harry nodded, relieved. "Why did she go there?" he asked, puzzled. Bill nodded at Pig. "Ron said she must have met him and went straight there to wait for you. She's smart. And bossy. Got Ron to make a bed for her in his room. Alright then, ready to go? Stand beside your trunk and I'll stand at the other side. Got your Firebolt? I want to have a go on it.alright then." And they disappeared, trunk and all, with another loud crack.