Chapter One: The Unnatural Calm
By: Molly Burton
It was a night like any other. Harry Potter lay on his made bed, clothes still on, staring at his ceiling. Every night, he would lie, unmoving on his bed, not blinking, just lying there. He would sit in the dark, and think. He would count to seconds.the minutes.the hours until he could finally leave to Dursley's and return to Hogwarts: His boarding school; which he considered his rightful home. This strange, yet soothing schedule had come into effect upon leaving in his fifth year.
When, and if he mad it out of the Dursley's alive, Harry would be in his sixth year at Hogwarts. That meant only two more years until he graduated, and never had to return to the Dursley's again.
Harry longed to loosen the floorboard which concieled his wizarding impliments.
Hedwig, Harry's large snowy owl hooted softly in her sleep. He strained his ears to hear the faintest sound of any awake family members. It was merely two more days of this torture till he was reunited with his friends in Diagon Alley once more.
'This torture' Being that of Harry's new job. Vernon Dursley: A large beefy man with hardly any neck and a rather large moustache, had decided that it was high time his backyard had been landscaped. Naturally his favourite choice of workers was the extremely underpaid Harry.
All summer long Harry had been dragging sand back here, and lugging Pond brick there. Positioning fountains just so, and cementing the new pond properly. His task had done three things. It had, A.) Made Harry extremely resentful towards the Dursley's. And emotion that he really didn't need provoked. B.) Made Harry's entire summer be that of cheap labour work and sore muscles. And C.) Helped Harry's muscles develop considerable larger than they had in the previous years.
Harry was now six feet tall, on the dot. And sixteen. His hair was still unruly, and black, slightly longer than what was acceptable, but was no longer playfully boyishly messy, now it was, working, man rugged. His piercing emerald eyes hadn't changed a bit, though they held a little more maturity than they had a few months ago.
Over the summer Harry had learned to hold his tongue in the presence of the Dursley's. In fact, Harry had pretty much not spoken at all the entire summer. His voice had deepened at an incredibly accelerated rate, and had a tendency to squeak into a high pitched tone. It was quite embarrassing, and Harry tried to inflict it on his 'family' as little as possible.
Harry closed his eyes, the only sounds he could hear were those of Hedwig, shuffling her feet, and the wind whistling through his cracked window. The muscles in his body slowly un-contracted, one at a time as he fell into alight sleep, forgetting what physical trials tomorrow held.
By: Molly Burton
It was a night like any other. Harry Potter lay on his made bed, clothes still on, staring at his ceiling. Every night, he would lie, unmoving on his bed, not blinking, just lying there. He would sit in the dark, and think. He would count to seconds.the minutes.the hours until he could finally leave to Dursley's and return to Hogwarts: His boarding school; which he considered his rightful home. This strange, yet soothing schedule had come into effect upon leaving in his fifth year.
When, and if he mad it out of the Dursley's alive, Harry would be in his sixth year at Hogwarts. That meant only two more years until he graduated, and never had to return to the Dursley's again.
Harry longed to loosen the floorboard which concieled his wizarding impliments.
Hedwig, Harry's large snowy owl hooted softly in her sleep. He strained his ears to hear the faintest sound of any awake family members. It was merely two more days of this torture till he was reunited with his friends in Diagon Alley once more.
'This torture' Being that of Harry's new job. Vernon Dursley: A large beefy man with hardly any neck and a rather large moustache, had decided that it was high time his backyard had been landscaped. Naturally his favourite choice of workers was the extremely underpaid Harry.
All summer long Harry had been dragging sand back here, and lugging Pond brick there. Positioning fountains just so, and cementing the new pond properly. His task had done three things. It had, A.) Made Harry extremely resentful towards the Dursley's. And emotion that he really didn't need provoked. B.) Made Harry's entire summer be that of cheap labour work and sore muscles. And C.) Helped Harry's muscles develop considerable larger than they had in the previous years.
Harry was now six feet tall, on the dot. And sixteen. His hair was still unruly, and black, slightly longer than what was acceptable, but was no longer playfully boyishly messy, now it was, working, man rugged. His piercing emerald eyes hadn't changed a bit, though they held a little more maturity than they had a few months ago.
Over the summer Harry had learned to hold his tongue in the presence of the Dursley's. In fact, Harry had pretty much not spoken at all the entire summer. His voice had deepened at an incredibly accelerated rate, and had a tendency to squeak into a high pitched tone. It was quite embarrassing, and Harry tried to inflict it on his 'family' as little as possible.
Harry closed his eyes, the only sounds he could hear were those of Hedwig, shuffling her feet, and the wind whistling through his cracked window. The muscles in his body slowly un-contracted, one at a time as he fell into alight sleep, forgetting what physical trials tomorrow held.