Staring only at the blankness of the off-white ceiling overhead, Harry
Potter was in a most comfortable position: lying upon his bed with his long
spindly legs sprawled out and his lean arms serving as a pillow behind his
head. This was the night of his eighteenth birthday, the birthday many had
wagered would never come by hell or high water, but he was here and he was
still very much alive while penetrating the ceiling with a fathomless half-
expression on his face. He breathed in solemnly and hesitated when he
turned his head towards his oak dresser as he gazed into the eyes of his
snowy white owl, Hedwig. Her once brilliant white feathers were slowly
graying from time and weather, but her eyes were still luminous and full as
she watched a mouse scatter by Harry's bedside night table. A quiet, but
meaningful screech filled Harry's ears and he looked directly at the ground
at the little brown field mouse that ate at crumb droppings under the night
table. Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion and then softened a bit, and soon
a slight smile played at his lips.
"Ah, who says all mice have to be blundering liars in disguise?" Harry asked himself aloud in a half-mock half-lecture tone of voice. "But on the other hand, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after me." Harry picked up the mouse by the tail and threw him out into the hallway, which separated him from the Dursley's.
"If you're lucky," he said to the mouse with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes "you'll find Dudley's stash of sweets hidden under his bed."
Hedwig continued to screech; perturbed at the fact that Harry had completely misunderstood the message she was trying to send across to him, obviously. Harry, however oblivious returned to staring at the ceiling and thought aloud, as he often did these days when sneaking a glance at the Muggle T.V. stations to listen out for more "disturbing disappearances" or "unexplainable deaths". Voldemort was on the rise and it was now actually even noticeable to the Muggles, though in a roundabout unexplainable way...for some, a bit more apparent than others in the case of the Dursley household.
"After tomorrow," Vernon Dursley grunted the night before during dinner "we won't have to worry a bit about those people and their ways."
Dudley Dursley shook his gargantuan head in an agreeable fashion as he helped himself to fifths.
Harry's Uncle Vernon had serious plans of getting Harry out of the house as soon as the clock struck midnight; he'd even bought a cake and party favors just for Harry's moving out. Harry was no more anxious to be leaving the Dursley's home this year: he'd be eighteen and could now further his Auror training and find a permanent residence in the Magical community once and for all. And everyday when Vernon Dursley banged Harry's door and screamed that day's number (yesterday was one) Harry crossed one day off his calendar and packed a belonging of his into some of Aunt Petunia's luggage bags he'd stolen during prior weeks.
Everyone was feeling some sort of emotion; Dudley gave Harry a salute whenever he passed him and Petunia Dursley put on a firm, but visibly upset smirk on her face as she glanced every now and then from the roast beef casserole she'd prepared. Obviously, there was one Dursley who still doubted that an attack upon their household could be prevented, Harry or no Harry. It was the recent dinners like this that had Harry both on edge, but anxious to leave. But with the rising threat of war on both fronts, he still considered himself an outsider to every degree. He really didn't have a true place he could call home. He sometimes doubted that he ever would.
At about that precise moment, an owl from Ronald Weasley flew through the window and dropped a parcel and a letter into Harry's hand. Harry sat up and offered the bird a bit of seeds to eat for the time being since he very well knew that Hedwig detested the bird about as much as she detested being cramped in her cage until her wings completely regained their strength for their next mission. Turning his direction back to the parcel, he unwrapped the orange Chuddley Cannon's paper and opened a cardboard box to find the most odd sort of contraption he'd seen yet from the Wizarding World: a sort of glowing ball with inscriptions that changed every now and then. Harry turned the ball over in his hands and put it down to open the letter Ron had sent him. He opened the letter and read:
Harry-
Wishing you a very Happy Birthday in light of spending it with your
relatives, but at least you'll be able to get out of it soon enough. I
don't have very much time to write this letter and as a matter of
fact, I shouldn't be sending this to you as we speak, but something
dreadful is happening, Harry, and I know it even though everyone puts
on cheery faces and false smiles. Bill and Percy are away on active
Order business and Mom and Dad are hardly ever home; the grand total
of killings has rose from five to thirty-three alone in the first
month that we've been off from break, and there's rumors that the
guards have completely left their stations in Azkaban. By the way,
haven't heard or seen Lupin, but maybe he's on Order business too.
I know this will sound a bit parental, but please watch yourself and
be on your guard at all times...Constant Vigilance as old Moody would
say (or would he really say that?).
On a happier note, Ginny says she can't wait to see you. Honestly, I
couldn't be any happier that my best friend is dating my little
sister, but you should hear the way she carries on about you, mate!
Fred and George have opened a new store in Diagon Alley next to
Gringotts, which I find mighty suspicious...with those two; a bank break-
in would be the least of my worries.
Hermione will be arriving by apparation this weekend (darn girl got
her license before I did) so please hurry or I'll be stuck again
listening to the whole Hogwarts: A History for the second time in two
years.
Stay safe,
Ron
P.S.- I've sent you a Fate Orb, a novelty item, really, but it's
supposed to tell you whether good times are coming your way or if
something wicked finds you chase. Again, a novelty item, but it's
pretty reliable as well, It was glowing a really red color for me this
morning and I found a black widow spider in my shoe...pretty close one
there.
Harry now looked at the Fate Orb and it remained the same pale red color it was when he first held it in his hands. Of course it'd be red, Voldemort is after you and his Death Eaters want revenge, Harry thought. He pursed his lips and began tossing the little red ball up and down from hand to hand and with incredible ease threw it over his left shoulder and let it roll down his right arm. This summer's quidditch training was a success.
Convincing Uncle Vernon to let him practice quidditch during the summer months was straining and almost impossible, but it was his Aunt Petunia who softened (oddly enough) and convinced Vernon to let Harry practice at the old warehouse off of Magnolia Crescent at midnight. Ever since, Harry's agility, stamina, and coordination had improved a great deal, not to mention the wonders it had done for his lanky and scrawny figure. And this year he'd be the captain of the quidditch team.
Two more owls entered the room: a wild black owl with the wingspan of almost a hawk and a much smaller dainty gray owl with a small beak. Harry took the parcels they'd dropped and opened the blue letter from the smaller bird.
Dear Harry,
A Happy Birthday to you, I can only hope that you indeed feel happy
today. Only today left of your relatives, so I'm sure your spirits are
high enough.
I'm writing you this letter as I leave for Ron's house today and I
can only hope to see you when I get there. I've spent the majority of
my holiday traveling with Viktor on the Bulgarian tour season, mostly
just to visit the many countries and not at all to spend time with
Viktor. Should I be ashamed of that? I do, and now I regret telling
you. But it was most splendid, viewing the sights of Rome, the
hillsides of Scotland, and even the Great Wall of China (which was
actually the idea of a Chinese general to keep out wizards and witches
of neighboring countries and not the invading Huns at all).
Crookshanks has run away in Albania somewhere, and was reluctant on
having us find him...I knew Ron was right when he said I should have
bought an owl.
Congratulations on your and Ginny's dating, you two really were made
for each other you know...not at all like Ron and I –not that I like Ron
in that manner- oh, never mind. Stay safe and a very Happy Birthday to
one of my dearest friends. Enjoy the sugar-free sweets and souvenirs
I've collected for you during my trips.
Love always,
Hermione
Harry opened the parcel and dumped out the sugar-free sweets and souvenirs (mini books about magic in nearly twenty-five different languages that translated into English whenever to picked them up to read, an assortment of quills, and miniature quidditch players that actually flew around the room and played a match). Harry smiled and opened the next letter.
Harry,
A Happy Birthday to you and congratulations on moving out of the
Dursley's house today after eighteen years of pure – well, you know.
Baked you a cake and even did the icing on my own...course Fang got into
it a bit, but if you ignore the nose print, it's still mighty tasty.
Happy Birthday
Hagrid
Harry decidedly put the cake on his night table and sat in wait for his Hogwarts letter from the usual medium sized light brown owl from Professor McGonagall with his supplies list and whatnot.
Screech. Another owl entered the room.
This was a great barn owl with brown spotted feathers and a slightly torn beak. It dropped a huge parcel and a small note into Harry's lap and flew out of the window again with speed. Harry first opened the letter, which nearly bled through the parchment with blood red ink:
Harry,
There is something urgent that I need to tell you before you leave the
Dursley's today. Keep Ron's orb with you inside your pockets. Remain
inside your home under all circumstances and whatever you do: DO NOT
OPEN THIS PARCEL.
Moony
Harry's eyes opened in shock at the very bold, bleeding words towards the end of Remus' note. He'd said not to leave the house and not open the parcel he'd sent to him...but why? He'd also signed his surname instead of his actual name, which raised Harry's suspicions even higher. But what truly bothered him was that he knew that Ron had sent him an orb. Ron specifically said he'd not even heard from Remus from his parents or anyone. How did he know Ron had sent him the orb?
Then it dawned upon him: Remus had given Ron the orb to give to Harry.
But why not give it directly? What in the world was going on? Harry ushered the birds out of his room and unlocked Hedwig's cage that got him a look of confusion from his owl.
"Just go, Hedwig. Stay at Ron's and don't come back here for me." The owl snapped playfully at his untidy mass of black hair and flew away with the other five owls through the window. Harry's smile immediately vanished off of his face and a look of terror and realization overcame him as the birds flew out the window.
Why were there five birds? There'd only been four letters...
Harry glanced towards the bedroom door and heard absolutely nothing but silence. Surely Uncle Vernon would be up by now to get me out of the house...and Aunt Petunia cooking breakfast...where were the sounds of Dudley's footsteps? Harry picked up the orb and placed it in his pocket and pulled out his wand from out of his pillowcase and opened the room door and stepped into the hallway.
Silence.
"Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon? Dudley?" Harry called and his voice echoed through the hall.
No response.
Harry put his wand at the ready and straightened his glasses. He slowly walked down the stairs and peered through the downstairs kitchen that sounded of television and the three Dursley's appeared to be deeply engrossed in the 9:00 Morning News.
"– And in other news, another disappearance on the London Underground is leaving many in confusion and disbelief as thirty-five year old Damien Virchow vanished in a flash of blue light–"
Harry took in a deep breath and lowered his wand. He looked at the T.V. at the latest victim of Voldemort's: a tall man with long black hair dressed entirely in black. From what Harry could tell, he had gray eyes and a very pale face from lack of sunlight and proper nutrition. A long scar trailed from the top of his skull to the bottom of his left jaw, but this was perhaps one of the only flaws on Virchow's simple, and perhaps once handsome face. Harry winced at the thought of the scar upon his own forehead and picked the orb out of his pocket and threw it up in the air again, but this time, he missed and the orb went whizzing through the air and landed atop of Uncle Vernon's head. Harry froze and his eyes squinted in anticipation for the bellows and possible attack that might be coming in the next few seconds.
"– Virchow is not married and was last seen at the Lennox Café above the underground–"
Vernon Dursley didn't move.
The blood froze in Harry's skin and he turned a tint of icy blue as he inched closer to Uncle Vernon's head. Still, no movement was made and so Harry stuck with fear and silence turned Uncle Vernon's face towards his own and let out an ear-splitting shriek.
Uncle Vernon was out cold and his skin was hard as stone, only the expression of pure shock and terror remained on his face.
"– Anyone with additional information is asked to come forward to London Police–"
Harry leapt back and began to shake, his body trembled and his eyes stayed transfixed on his once alive Uncle Vernon. He didn't even want to look at Dudley and Aunt Petunia...he knew already that whatever had happened to Uncle Vernon had most assuredly happened to them as well...Harry tried to speak, but couldn't. He could only look from his former family to the blood-red orb on the ground. Writing in Latin had assimilated upon its inner edges in a gold cursive writing. From what Harry knew of Latin, the ball read this:
A shadow comes from in its corner Nothing ever will be the same.
Harry stared quizzically at the ball's vagueness and took a step back into the arms of the tall man in black he'd just seen upon the television.
"Ah, who says all mice have to be blundering liars in disguise?" Harry asked himself aloud in a half-mock half-lecture tone of voice. "But on the other hand, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after me." Harry picked up the mouse by the tail and threw him out into the hallway, which separated him from the Dursley's.
"If you're lucky," he said to the mouse with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes "you'll find Dudley's stash of sweets hidden under his bed."
Hedwig continued to screech; perturbed at the fact that Harry had completely misunderstood the message she was trying to send across to him, obviously. Harry, however oblivious returned to staring at the ceiling and thought aloud, as he often did these days when sneaking a glance at the Muggle T.V. stations to listen out for more "disturbing disappearances" or "unexplainable deaths". Voldemort was on the rise and it was now actually even noticeable to the Muggles, though in a roundabout unexplainable way...for some, a bit more apparent than others in the case of the Dursley household.
"After tomorrow," Vernon Dursley grunted the night before during dinner "we won't have to worry a bit about those people and their ways."
Dudley Dursley shook his gargantuan head in an agreeable fashion as he helped himself to fifths.
Harry's Uncle Vernon had serious plans of getting Harry out of the house as soon as the clock struck midnight; he'd even bought a cake and party favors just for Harry's moving out. Harry was no more anxious to be leaving the Dursley's home this year: he'd be eighteen and could now further his Auror training and find a permanent residence in the Magical community once and for all. And everyday when Vernon Dursley banged Harry's door and screamed that day's number (yesterday was one) Harry crossed one day off his calendar and packed a belonging of his into some of Aunt Petunia's luggage bags he'd stolen during prior weeks.
Everyone was feeling some sort of emotion; Dudley gave Harry a salute whenever he passed him and Petunia Dursley put on a firm, but visibly upset smirk on her face as she glanced every now and then from the roast beef casserole she'd prepared. Obviously, there was one Dursley who still doubted that an attack upon their household could be prevented, Harry or no Harry. It was the recent dinners like this that had Harry both on edge, but anxious to leave. But with the rising threat of war on both fronts, he still considered himself an outsider to every degree. He really didn't have a true place he could call home. He sometimes doubted that he ever would.
At about that precise moment, an owl from Ronald Weasley flew through the window and dropped a parcel and a letter into Harry's hand. Harry sat up and offered the bird a bit of seeds to eat for the time being since he very well knew that Hedwig detested the bird about as much as she detested being cramped in her cage until her wings completely regained their strength for their next mission. Turning his direction back to the parcel, he unwrapped the orange Chuddley Cannon's paper and opened a cardboard box to find the most odd sort of contraption he'd seen yet from the Wizarding World: a sort of glowing ball with inscriptions that changed every now and then. Harry turned the ball over in his hands and put it down to open the letter Ron had sent him. He opened the letter and read:
Harry-
Wishing you a very Happy Birthday in light of spending it with your
relatives, but at least you'll be able to get out of it soon enough. I
don't have very much time to write this letter and as a matter of
fact, I shouldn't be sending this to you as we speak, but something
dreadful is happening, Harry, and I know it even though everyone puts
on cheery faces and false smiles. Bill and Percy are away on active
Order business and Mom and Dad are hardly ever home; the grand total
of killings has rose from five to thirty-three alone in the first
month that we've been off from break, and there's rumors that the
guards have completely left their stations in Azkaban. By the way,
haven't heard or seen Lupin, but maybe he's on Order business too.
I know this will sound a bit parental, but please watch yourself and
be on your guard at all times...Constant Vigilance as old Moody would
say (or would he really say that?).
On a happier note, Ginny says she can't wait to see you. Honestly, I
couldn't be any happier that my best friend is dating my little
sister, but you should hear the way she carries on about you, mate!
Fred and George have opened a new store in Diagon Alley next to
Gringotts, which I find mighty suspicious...with those two; a bank break-
in would be the least of my worries.
Hermione will be arriving by apparation this weekend (darn girl got
her license before I did) so please hurry or I'll be stuck again
listening to the whole Hogwarts: A History for the second time in two
years.
Stay safe,
Ron
P.S.- I've sent you a Fate Orb, a novelty item, really, but it's
supposed to tell you whether good times are coming your way or if
something wicked finds you chase. Again, a novelty item, but it's
pretty reliable as well, It was glowing a really red color for me this
morning and I found a black widow spider in my shoe...pretty close one
there.
Harry now looked at the Fate Orb and it remained the same pale red color it was when he first held it in his hands. Of course it'd be red, Voldemort is after you and his Death Eaters want revenge, Harry thought. He pursed his lips and began tossing the little red ball up and down from hand to hand and with incredible ease threw it over his left shoulder and let it roll down his right arm. This summer's quidditch training was a success.
Convincing Uncle Vernon to let him practice quidditch during the summer months was straining and almost impossible, but it was his Aunt Petunia who softened (oddly enough) and convinced Vernon to let Harry practice at the old warehouse off of Magnolia Crescent at midnight. Ever since, Harry's agility, stamina, and coordination had improved a great deal, not to mention the wonders it had done for his lanky and scrawny figure. And this year he'd be the captain of the quidditch team.
Two more owls entered the room: a wild black owl with the wingspan of almost a hawk and a much smaller dainty gray owl with a small beak. Harry took the parcels they'd dropped and opened the blue letter from the smaller bird.
Dear Harry,
A Happy Birthday to you, I can only hope that you indeed feel happy
today. Only today left of your relatives, so I'm sure your spirits are
high enough.
I'm writing you this letter as I leave for Ron's house today and I
can only hope to see you when I get there. I've spent the majority of
my holiday traveling with Viktor on the Bulgarian tour season, mostly
just to visit the many countries and not at all to spend time with
Viktor. Should I be ashamed of that? I do, and now I regret telling
you. But it was most splendid, viewing the sights of Rome, the
hillsides of Scotland, and even the Great Wall of China (which was
actually the idea of a Chinese general to keep out wizards and witches
of neighboring countries and not the invading Huns at all).
Crookshanks has run away in Albania somewhere, and was reluctant on
having us find him...I knew Ron was right when he said I should have
bought an owl.
Congratulations on your and Ginny's dating, you two really were made
for each other you know...not at all like Ron and I –not that I like Ron
in that manner- oh, never mind. Stay safe and a very Happy Birthday to
one of my dearest friends. Enjoy the sugar-free sweets and souvenirs
I've collected for you during my trips.
Love always,
Hermione
Harry opened the parcel and dumped out the sugar-free sweets and souvenirs (mini books about magic in nearly twenty-five different languages that translated into English whenever to picked them up to read, an assortment of quills, and miniature quidditch players that actually flew around the room and played a match). Harry smiled and opened the next letter.
Harry,
A Happy Birthday to you and congratulations on moving out of the
Dursley's house today after eighteen years of pure – well, you know.
Baked you a cake and even did the icing on my own...course Fang got into
it a bit, but if you ignore the nose print, it's still mighty tasty.
Happy Birthday
Hagrid
Harry decidedly put the cake on his night table and sat in wait for his Hogwarts letter from the usual medium sized light brown owl from Professor McGonagall with his supplies list and whatnot.
Screech. Another owl entered the room.
This was a great barn owl with brown spotted feathers and a slightly torn beak. It dropped a huge parcel and a small note into Harry's lap and flew out of the window again with speed. Harry first opened the letter, which nearly bled through the parchment with blood red ink:
Harry,
There is something urgent that I need to tell you before you leave the
Dursley's today. Keep Ron's orb with you inside your pockets. Remain
inside your home under all circumstances and whatever you do: DO NOT
OPEN THIS PARCEL.
Moony
Harry's eyes opened in shock at the very bold, bleeding words towards the end of Remus' note. He'd said not to leave the house and not open the parcel he'd sent to him...but why? He'd also signed his surname instead of his actual name, which raised Harry's suspicions even higher. But what truly bothered him was that he knew that Ron had sent him an orb. Ron specifically said he'd not even heard from Remus from his parents or anyone. How did he know Ron had sent him the orb?
Then it dawned upon him: Remus had given Ron the orb to give to Harry.
But why not give it directly? What in the world was going on? Harry ushered the birds out of his room and unlocked Hedwig's cage that got him a look of confusion from his owl.
"Just go, Hedwig. Stay at Ron's and don't come back here for me." The owl snapped playfully at his untidy mass of black hair and flew away with the other five owls through the window. Harry's smile immediately vanished off of his face and a look of terror and realization overcame him as the birds flew out the window.
Why were there five birds? There'd only been four letters...
Harry glanced towards the bedroom door and heard absolutely nothing but silence. Surely Uncle Vernon would be up by now to get me out of the house...and Aunt Petunia cooking breakfast...where were the sounds of Dudley's footsteps? Harry picked up the orb and placed it in his pocket and pulled out his wand from out of his pillowcase and opened the room door and stepped into the hallway.
Silence.
"Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon? Dudley?" Harry called and his voice echoed through the hall.
No response.
Harry put his wand at the ready and straightened his glasses. He slowly walked down the stairs and peered through the downstairs kitchen that sounded of television and the three Dursley's appeared to be deeply engrossed in the 9:00 Morning News.
"– And in other news, another disappearance on the London Underground is leaving many in confusion and disbelief as thirty-five year old Damien Virchow vanished in a flash of blue light–"
Harry took in a deep breath and lowered his wand. He looked at the T.V. at the latest victim of Voldemort's: a tall man with long black hair dressed entirely in black. From what Harry could tell, he had gray eyes and a very pale face from lack of sunlight and proper nutrition. A long scar trailed from the top of his skull to the bottom of his left jaw, but this was perhaps one of the only flaws on Virchow's simple, and perhaps once handsome face. Harry winced at the thought of the scar upon his own forehead and picked the orb out of his pocket and threw it up in the air again, but this time, he missed and the orb went whizzing through the air and landed atop of Uncle Vernon's head. Harry froze and his eyes squinted in anticipation for the bellows and possible attack that might be coming in the next few seconds.
"– Virchow is not married and was last seen at the Lennox Café above the underground–"
Vernon Dursley didn't move.
The blood froze in Harry's skin and he turned a tint of icy blue as he inched closer to Uncle Vernon's head. Still, no movement was made and so Harry stuck with fear and silence turned Uncle Vernon's face towards his own and let out an ear-splitting shriek.
Uncle Vernon was out cold and his skin was hard as stone, only the expression of pure shock and terror remained on his face.
"– Anyone with additional information is asked to come forward to London Police–"
Harry leapt back and began to shake, his body trembled and his eyes stayed transfixed on his once alive Uncle Vernon. He didn't even want to look at Dudley and Aunt Petunia...he knew already that whatever had happened to Uncle Vernon had most assuredly happened to them as well...Harry tried to speak, but couldn't. He could only look from his former family to the blood-red orb on the ground. Writing in Latin had assimilated upon its inner edges in a gold cursive writing. From what Harry knew of Latin, the ball read this:
A shadow comes from in its corner Nothing ever will be the same.
Harry stared quizzically at the ball's vagueness and took a step back into the arms of the tall man in black he'd just seen upon the television.
