Harry Potter and the Web of Prophesies
Chapter 1: *An Unhappy Birthday*
In the midst of Privet Drive's carefully trimmed lawns and shiny new cars, a teenage boy with threadbare clothing and
unkept black hair lay sprawled upon the ground in the backyard of Number 4. He stared up at the tree above him, its leaves
drooping with the intense summer heat which had seemingly infiltrated every pore of his body. Sweat trickled down his
forehead; how he would love to go inside to the air conditioned living room! But Harry Potter knew that the looks of
horror from his Aunt, Uncle, and Dudley would be enough to drive him outside once again.
Harry stared up at the tree again, watching as a slight breeze moved the leaves. Just as curtain had moved on that fateful
day as Sirius had passed through it... He tried not to think of this, but it was too late. He clenched his eyes shut tight,
but tears managed to squeeze through and ran down his face. Sirius... what he would give to have him here now... He had never
thought it was possible for this many changes to occur, but they had. What he would give to talk to any of his friends,
rather than being trapped in the prison that Number 4 Privet Drive had become...
Of course, he had heard from many of them this summer. He wrote to Lupin nearly every day, keeping with his promise that he
would be in communication with the Order every three days. His uncle made sure of this. Just this morning, over breakfast,
he had demanded that Harry go to his room and write another.
"I don't want those ruddy magicfolk in this house EVER AGAIN!! Do you understand me? So get up to your room right now and
write a letter, but make sure your bird isn't seen by the neighbors!" Uncle Vernon thundered, while Petunia peered cautiously
through the front curtains, making sure that no one was outside to see Hedwig carry the letter. Harry went, all too glad to
have escaped the breakfast table, where Dudley was once again being forced to eat fruit, while eyeing the chocolate cake
that was sitting on the countertop.
After writing his letter, Harry had spent most of the day outside, trying to avoid any further contact with the Dursleys.
When he finally returned for a supper in which no one spoke to him, it was well past sunset. He retreated quietly to his
room.
He threw himself halfheartedly down onto his bed, memories of Sirius once again filling his mind. I can't believe
he's gone, he thought to himself, tears once again streaming down his face. If only I had thought that Voldemort
would try to use me,if only Dumbledore had TOLD me earlier! Anger coursed through his blood. Why hadn't Dumbledore told
him? It would have solved everything. But now, it was beyond fixing. Sirius was gone, forever. And he, Harry, was to take
the weight of the world onto his shoulders? What if he didn't want to save everyone? What if he just wanted to be left alone?
He punched his pillow, then collapsed upon it, sobbing. He could hear his Aunt and Uncle's whispered conversation, but he
no longer cared. His sobs had carried downstairs to the parlor where they sat reading.
"What's wrong with him Vernon, he hasn't eaten properly all summer!" Petunia whispered to her husband. He looked up from
his newspaper and glanced her way.
"Can't make the boy eat, " he grunted. "Just as long as those freaks don't come into my house again...I told you last year,
we should have thrown him out." Petunia looked at her husband severely.
"You know we can't do that." she snapped.
"Really, I don't know why. You never told me what is going on, what happened last summer with that ruddy talking letter,"
vernon replied, now dropping his newspaper.
"I don't want to talk about it," Petunia answered coldly, retreating to the kitchen.
************
Harry awoke to intense pain, filling his scar as though it would explode. After a few moments it subsided, and he glanced at
his alarm clock. 12:15 AM. Great, he thought to himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember why his scar was hurting.
Voldemort had been happy, he knew that. It had something to do with the prophesy... Harry sat suddenly upright in bed.
He knew. Voldemort knew what the prophesy was. But how could he have possibly found out? Had he broken into Harry's own mind
and discovered it?
He HAD to tell Dumbledore immediately. Jumping out of bed, he rummaged through his desk looking for a spare piece of
parchment. Finding one, he wrote a hurried letter to Dumbledore.
Professor Dumbledore,
I just woke up and my scar was hurting really bad. This time, the vision that I had was that Voldemort knows about the
prophesy. I don't remember much else. Please tell me what is going on!
-Harry
He sent off Hedwig, and sat down onto his bed, panting. He couldn't believe it. With that knowledge, Voldemort could be at
Number 4 Privet Drive any moment! He knew he was protected inside the house, but what if he went outside? He couldn't stay
in the broom cupboard under the stairs forever. His fist tightened around his wand. I have to stand up to him, no matter
what, he thought to himself. I can't lose this time. Dumbledore isn't here to save me. Maybe the Order of the
Phoenix would be here soon, he reasoned. Of course, they must know about this development also, especially since he had
just told Dumbledore!
Harry glanced back at the clock. 1:00 AM. Why was it taking them so long? Didn't they realize that Voldemort could be
standing outside at this very moment, waiting for the opportunity to attack Harry?
Just then, Harry heard Hedwig knock at his window. He flew off of the bed and wrenched the glass open, allowing his owl
inside. Tied to her leg was a letter; at first glance, Harry was relieved to see that he had gotten a reply. There was no
possible way they could leave him here now, he thought triumphantly.
As he removed the letter from Hedwig's leg, his mouth fell open in horror. Beneath the spindly handwriting on the envelope
that said, "Harry Potter, Number 4 Privet Drive", was a green and black seal. The Dark Mark. With trembling hands, he
hurriedly ripped open the letter and read:
Dearest Harry,
So sorry to inform you that Albus Dumbledore will not be responding to your letter.
Sadly, he was killed in a Death Eater attack this morning at Hogwarts. I have the
Pensieve, Potter. Of COURSE I know what the prophesy is. And rest assured, it will
come true sooner than you may believe. Happy birthday Harry.
Your truly,
The Dark Lord
Harry stared at the letter, then collapsed to the floor, his emotions, fears, and grief all converging upon him at once.
He lay crumpled upon the floor moaning; tears would no longer come.
Chapter 1: *An Unhappy Birthday*
In the midst of Privet Drive's carefully trimmed lawns and shiny new cars, a teenage boy with threadbare clothing and
unkept black hair lay sprawled upon the ground in the backyard of Number 4. He stared up at the tree above him, its leaves
drooping with the intense summer heat which had seemingly infiltrated every pore of his body. Sweat trickled down his
forehead; how he would love to go inside to the air conditioned living room! But Harry Potter knew that the looks of
horror from his Aunt, Uncle, and Dudley would be enough to drive him outside once again.
Harry stared up at the tree again, watching as a slight breeze moved the leaves. Just as curtain had moved on that fateful
day as Sirius had passed through it... He tried not to think of this, but it was too late. He clenched his eyes shut tight,
but tears managed to squeeze through and ran down his face. Sirius... what he would give to have him here now... He had never
thought it was possible for this many changes to occur, but they had. What he would give to talk to any of his friends,
rather than being trapped in the prison that Number 4 Privet Drive had become...
Of course, he had heard from many of them this summer. He wrote to Lupin nearly every day, keeping with his promise that he
would be in communication with the Order every three days. His uncle made sure of this. Just this morning, over breakfast,
he had demanded that Harry go to his room and write another.
"I don't want those ruddy magicfolk in this house EVER AGAIN!! Do you understand me? So get up to your room right now and
write a letter, but make sure your bird isn't seen by the neighbors!" Uncle Vernon thundered, while Petunia peered cautiously
through the front curtains, making sure that no one was outside to see Hedwig carry the letter. Harry went, all too glad to
have escaped the breakfast table, where Dudley was once again being forced to eat fruit, while eyeing the chocolate cake
that was sitting on the countertop.
After writing his letter, Harry had spent most of the day outside, trying to avoid any further contact with the Dursleys.
When he finally returned for a supper in which no one spoke to him, it was well past sunset. He retreated quietly to his
room.
He threw himself halfheartedly down onto his bed, memories of Sirius once again filling his mind. I can't believe
he's gone, he thought to himself, tears once again streaming down his face. If only I had thought that Voldemort
would try to use me,if only Dumbledore had TOLD me earlier! Anger coursed through his blood. Why hadn't Dumbledore told
him? It would have solved everything. But now, it was beyond fixing. Sirius was gone, forever. And he, Harry, was to take
the weight of the world onto his shoulders? What if he didn't want to save everyone? What if he just wanted to be left alone?
He punched his pillow, then collapsed upon it, sobbing. He could hear his Aunt and Uncle's whispered conversation, but he
no longer cared. His sobs had carried downstairs to the parlor where they sat reading.
"What's wrong with him Vernon, he hasn't eaten properly all summer!" Petunia whispered to her husband. He looked up from
his newspaper and glanced her way.
"Can't make the boy eat, " he grunted. "Just as long as those freaks don't come into my house again...I told you last year,
we should have thrown him out." Petunia looked at her husband severely.
"You know we can't do that." she snapped.
"Really, I don't know why. You never told me what is going on, what happened last summer with that ruddy talking letter,"
vernon replied, now dropping his newspaper.
"I don't want to talk about it," Petunia answered coldly, retreating to the kitchen.
************
Harry awoke to intense pain, filling his scar as though it would explode. After a few moments it subsided, and he glanced at
his alarm clock. 12:15 AM. Great, he thought to himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember why his scar was hurting.
Voldemort had been happy, he knew that. It had something to do with the prophesy... Harry sat suddenly upright in bed.
He knew. Voldemort knew what the prophesy was. But how could he have possibly found out? Had he broken into Harry's own mind
and discovered it?
He HAD to tell Dumbledore immediately. Jumping out of bed, he rummaged through his desk looking for a spare piece of
parchment. Finding one, he wrote a hurried letter to Dumbledore.
Professor Dumbledore,
I just woke up and my scar was hurting really bad. This time, the vision that I had was that Voldemort knows about the
prophesy. I don't remember much else. Please tell me what is going on!
-Harry
He sent off Hedwig, and sat down onto his bed, panting. He couldn't believe it. With that knowledge, Voldemort could be at
Number 4 Privet Drive any moment! He knew he was protected inside the house, but what if he went outside? He couldn't stay
in the broom cupboard under the stairs forever. His fist tightened around his wand. I have to stand up to him, no matter
what, he thought to himself. I can't lose this time. Dumbledore isn't here to save me. Maybe the Order of the
Phoenix would be here soon, he reasoned. Of course, they must know about this development also, especially since he had
just told Dumbledore!
Harry glanced back at the clock. 1:00 AM. Why was it taking them so long? Didn't they realize that Voldemort could be
standing outside at this very moment, waiting for the opportunity to attack Harry?
Just then, Harry heard Hedwig knock at his window. He flew off of the bed and wrenched the glass open, allowing his owl
inside. Tied to her leg was a letter; at first glance, Harry was relieved to see that he had gotten a reply. There was no
possible way they could leave him here now, he thought triumphantly.
As he removed the letter from Hedwig's leg, his mouth fell open in horror. Beneath the spindly handwriting on the envelope
that said, "Harry Potter, Number 4 Privet Drive", was a green and black seal. The Dark Mark. With trembling hands, he
hurriedly ripped open the letter and read:
Dearest Harry,
So sorry to inform you that Albus Dumbledore will not be responding to your letter.
Sadly, he was killed in a Death Eater attack this morning at Hogwarts. I have the
Pensieve, Potter. Of COURSE I know what the prophesy is. And rest assured, it will
come true sooner than you may believe. Happy birthday Harry.
Your truly,
The Dark Lord
Harry stared at the letter, then collapsed to the floor, his emotions, fears, and grief all converging upon him at once.
He lay crumpled upon the floor moaning; tears would no longer come.
