CHAPTER TWO
AN OWL WITH O.W.L.S RESULTS
Harry spent most of the next day in his bedroom, he wrote letters to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. He was feeling an overwhelming desire to meet them, speak to them, he could not stand to spend another day with the Dursleys though he had only few days left till August, which meant going to the burrow to stay with the Weasleys, and although Ron hadn't mentioned a precise date in his letters, Harry was hoping that on the first of August, he'd find Mr. Weasley stepping out of the living room fireplace or knocking on the front door to take Harry with him away from this abominable place. Harry included a question about the precise date of his departure to the burrow in his letter to Ron.
Harry hadn't yet told the Dursleys that Mr. Weasley was going to pick him up, he dreaded the reaction he might get from them, and for all he knew, Mad-eye Moody was not the kind of man who would not keep his word, especially if it concerned something he had been longing to do for ages, like turning uncle Vernon into a warthog for instance, and Harry did not want such an aggravation right now.
As Harry watched his large snowy owl, Hedwig disappear from view with the three scrolls of parchment tied to her legs, he flung himself back onto his bed and lay there motionless.
The scar on Harry's forehead that was shaped like a lightning bolt twinged slightly and he wondered gloomily what Lord Voldemort might be plotting at this very moment.
A succession of memories seemed to roll in front of his eyes like a movie. He was eleven, fighting off a vicious professor Quirrell with Lord Voldemort's snake-like face protruding from the back of his head…he was twelve, the limp form of Ginny Weasley was lying motionless on the ground, and he was holding a gleaming silver sword, with rubies the size of eggs that embellished its handle, while a giant blind serpent was lunging wildly at him…he was thirteen, sending a silver stag out of the tip of his wand at a hundred dementors that were trying to suck out the souls of the unconscious Sirius, Hermione, and his own past form…he was fourteen, gripping tight his wand which was connected by a golden thread of light with the newly reborn Lord Voldemort's wand, and the ghostly forms of Cedric Diggory, his mother and father were standing next to him, bracing him up…he was fifteen, watching from behind a headless golden statue as Dumbledore dueled with the hooded figure of Lord Voldemort.
He remembered gloomily the revolving shape of professor Trelawney that had risen from Dumbledore's Pensieve, and had told him, for the first time, the Prophecy that sentenced him either to murder or be murdered by Lord Voldemort.
His wish to meet his best friend, Ron, intensified though he knew perfectly well that nothing Ron or anybody said would be able to soothe the agony he was feeling inside him. He hadn't even told Ron or anybody else about that Prophecy and he didn't know at the moment how he was going to do it, or whether he wanted to do it at all.
"Dinner!" shouted aunt Petunia's voice from somewhere downstairs, and Harry emerged from the sea of memories he seemed to be drowning in. He didn't want to eat with the Dursleys as, since yesterday's events, they seemed to have decided to behave in the very same way during every meal; uncle Vernon glared silently but menacingly at Harry, aunt Petunia shot him very nasty looks every now and then, and Dudley eyed him fearfully as though he was going to turn him into a rat at any moment.
Harry stayed in his room, lying on his back on the bed, and gazing through the open window into the star-strewn night sky.
Something was moving in the distance, a dot was becoming larger steadily. As it got closer, the thing seemed to be a bird, and as it became feet away from Harry's window, he realized that it was an owl. It couldn't possibly be Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, as this one seemed to be much larger. Could it possibly be from Hermione or Hagrid? Could any of them possibly have sent him a reply to his letter as quickly as this? Or is it just another letter from a fan?
The owl soared through the open window and landed gracefully on Hedwig's empty cage. There was a large brown formal-looking envelope in its beak.
Harry stretched a hand and clutched the envelope. The owl gave a tiny hoot, and took off again into the starry sky.
Harry examined the envelope; it had both The Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts crests on it. His heart gave a leap of excitement; he knew at once what that envelope contained. He ripped open the envelope with shaky hands, and took out the neat piece of parchment that was enclosed, and which bore the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts seals on its bottom, and, his heart racing, he began scanning it feverishly.
MINISTRY OF MAGIC - THE WIZARDING EXAMINATIONS AUTHORITY
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT MR. HARRY JAMES POTTER, STUDENT AT HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY, HAS ACHIEVED THE FOLLOWING DEGREES IN HIS ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL EXAMS:
ASTRONOMY: ACCEPTABLE
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: OUTSTANDING
CHARMS: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: OUTSTANDING
DIVINATION: ACCEPTABLE
HERBOLOGY: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
HISTORY OF MAGIC: ACCEPTABLE
POTIONS: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
TRANSFIGURATION: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
SIGNED:
CORNELIUS FUDGE
MINISTER OF MAGIC
GRISELDA MARCHBANKS
HEAD OF THE WIZARDING EXAMINATIONS AUTHORITY
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Harry could not believe what he had just read, he scanned the piece of parchment over and over again, and when he had finally finished, he put down the parchment on his bedside table and lay down again on his back on the bed. He had managed to scrape passes in all nine O.W.L.s, he had even passed in Divination which had been, perhaps, the most dreadful exam he had ever done, and what was more, he had actually managed to scrape an E in his Potions O.W.L when he had only dared to hope for an A in his wildest dreams. He remembered, however, that professor McGonagall had once told him that Snape took in his class only students who had managed an O in their Potions O.W.L, but that was hardly something to grieve about, as professor Snape, the Potions master at Hogwarts, happened to be Harry's least favorite teacher, and his hatred to Snape actually had intensified after the death of Harry's godfather, Sirius, as he, Harry, still considered Snape to be responsible for his godfather's death somehow.
The next few days seemed to be quite eventless, apart from the daily owls from fans. Harry actually continued to stroll the streets of Little Whinging hoping to meet again his newly discovered cousin, Mark Evans, but he didn't.
On July the 31st, Harry received the replies to the letters he had sent to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid, along with his birthday presents.
Ron had actually sent him a box of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, and Harry remembered vividly how Umbridge and Filch had once tried vainly to extinguish the outstanding fireworks that the Weasley twins had set loose in the castle. He could not help but to smile widely at that thought.
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday.
As for your question about the precise date on which dad's going to pick you up, I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you, dad reckons it's still too risky to write such things in letters, in case they fell into the wrong hands. But I think it's going to be soon enough.
I reckon I'll be seeing you soon then, so until we meet, don't let the muggles get you down.
Take care mate,
Ron
P.S: Fred and George insisted on presenting you with something of their own merchandise, so actually this present is from the three of us.
Harry put down Ron's letter and imagined the twins sitting in their premises in Diagon Alley, grinning widely while they counted their proceeds of Galleons.
Hermione, however had sent him an extraordinary birthday cake, which came in handy as he was still avoiding eating with the Dursleys too often. She had also sent him a letter in which she asked him about his O.W.L.s results, and informed him proudly that she had gotten nine Outstandings.
Hagrid's gift was some homemade cake, which Harry thought he had made a very wise decision by presenting it to Ripper, the Dursleys' bulldog, who turned a shade of green immediately after taking the first bite at it, and barked madly in protest. Hagrid had also sent him a letter, which turned out to be a short article about Grawp, Hagrid's little giant brother.
On the first day of August, Harry hardly stayed put, he was pacing the house, peeking into the living room, hoping to catch any sign of movement inside the boarded living room fireplace, and he strained his ears every time he passed near the front door, wishing to hear any slight sign of a knock on the door, but nothing happened. The only outcome was that uncle Vernon's face went all puce, and he glared madly at Harry every time he came near him.
Harry sat on his desk in his room a few days later, writing grumpily the regular letter in which he informed the members of the Order of the Phoenix that he was alright and not being mistreated. It was late in the night and Hedwig was out hunting, so he put down his quill and waited gloomily for his snowy owl to emerge, perhaps carrying a dead mouse in her beak. He was almost as angry with Mr. Weasley as he had been with his friends, Ron and Hermione last summer.
He was gazing at the twinkling stars outside the open window, he felt a bit drowsy so he took off his glasses and leaned backward in his chair. A soft breeze drifted through the open window tickling his face slightly. He closed his eyes and, almost instantly, he was back in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. It was deserted, he was standing on top of the stone stairs gazing down at the ancient archway with that tattered black veil that had haunted his dreams since the day Sirius had went through it. He hurtled down the stone steps, his heart beating faster with every step he took. He climbed the dais at the bottom of the room and headed steadily toward the veil. He was now standing inches from the tattered veil, listening hard to the whispers that were coming from beyond, and then he heard it. A voice was calling his name from beyond the veil; it was unmistakably his godfather, Sirius's hoarse voice.
Harry's heart was hammering somewhere behind his Adam's apple, he felt something tap gently on his forehead. "Harry, Harry!" his godfather's voice called, and he extended his hand toward the veil, but the tapping on his forehead was becoming slightly painful. He opened his eyes and saw with a huge jolt of horror, something grey and hairy dangling half an inch from his nose. He gave an echoing yell and staggered backwards and, losing his balance, he toppled off his chair and fell to the floor, with a painful thud, on his back.
Harry massaged his aching back and squinted blearily at the thing that had just attacked him and discovered that it was a dead rat dangling from his own owl, Hedwig's beak.
Harry listened hard for a moment to detect if there was any sound coming from the Dursleys' bedroom, but he heard nothing except the loud snorts that uncle Vernon was issuing, which meant Harry was safe.
"You couldn't come back a minute later, could you?" Harry told his owl angrily, snatching the dead rat from her beak and tying up the scroll of parchment, that was his letter to the Order, to one of her legs.
Hedwig gave a tiny indignant hoot and took off again through the open window, evidently mad at Harry for depriving her of her meal.
Harry blinked and picked up his glasses that were lying on his desk and put them back on, he didn't feel like going back to sleep.
He leaned back on his chair and stared blankly at the ceiling. What were all those dreams about? He had been having the same dream for a while now, the dream that featured him alone in the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries. Could that be another trick of Lord Voldemort's? Could Voldemort possibly be trying to lure Harry again into the Ministry of Magic, like he had done successfully only a few weeks ago and Harry had been stupid enough to do exactly as Voldemort had wanted him to do, resulting in the death of the dearest person to him, his godfather, Sirius?
Harry spent more eventless few days, waiting for Mr. Weasley to show up, and jumping every time the doorbell rang, expecting to find Mr. Weasley waiting for him behind the door with an apologetic grin on his face, but it didn't happen.
Time elapsed and Harry had almost lost any hope that anyone was going to pick him up at all. He lay on his bed on the eighth of August, thinking about the proper way to shout at Mr. Weasley in case he ever arrived at Number 4. Privet Drive. It was 10 minutes past midnight when Harry felt himself surrender to sleep in spite of his fury. He was soon fast asleep though he thought he was hearing noises in the distance.
Harry felt someone prod him gently in the ribs and, yawning widely, he slowly opened his sleepy eyes.
The thing that Harry saw in front of him made his heart give a horrible jolt.
Standing in front of him, silhouetted against the ray of moonlight that was coming through the open window, was a towering figure that looked so formidable in the golden moonlight. It was the silhouette of a huge man who was holding in one of his hands what looked unmistakably like a wand. Harry leapt backwards, he was fully awake now, his heart was racing, and cold sweat was oozing from every inch of his body, he fumbled frantically on his bedside table for his wand, but the wizard was faster than him. "Accio wand!" whispered the tall wizard and Harry's wand soared in the air and rested in the wizard's free hand.
"It's OK Harry, it's me!" said a deep familiar voice, in a low tone.
"Kingsley?" said Harry uncertainly, squinting hard in the darkness at the huge shape in front of him.
"Lumos!" said the deep voice of the tall wizard and his wand tip ignited illuminating Harry's room. He held it up as though he was holding a torch, and his face swam clearly into vision, illuminated by the magical light; it was the face of the familiar bald black wizard with a single hoop in his ear, Kingsley Shacklebolt, beaming at Harry.
"Sorry about this unexpected entrance, Harry, but Dumbledore's orders are clear; he does not wish to draw much attention to your departure," said Kingsly, chucking Harry's wand back to him. Harry caught his wand and stared at Kingsley, still struggling to take in what was going on.
"I…I thought you were voldemort!" said Harry tentatively. He had expected Kingsley to flinch, or at least to show a sign of disapproval of mentioning the name that most of the wizarding world referred to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but on the contrary, Kingsley gave a weak chuckle.
"He wouldn't be turning up here, now, would he?" said Kingsley grinning.
"Now, You'd better get packed Harry, we wouldn't want to be late," said Kingsley, shooting a brief look at the open window.
Harry realized suddenly that Kingsley could not possibly have been the only one who had been sent to accompany him. He got off his bed, rushed to the open window and gazed down at the dark lawn.
The street seemed to be oddly dark, even darker than it was usually at night, the only light seemed to be coming from the moon, but Harry, nevertheless, could make up the silhouette of a young woman waving at him from the lawn below, and even in the pitch-black darkness, Harry could recognize the familiar spiky hair. It was Nymphadora Tonks, the young Auror. He waved back at her and turned back to face Kingsley.
"Where's Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked.
"He's still on duty, but I expect He'd be back by the time we've arrived," said Kingsley.
Harry did not have much to do as he had already packed his trunk, having been expecting Mr. Weasley to arrive at any moment since the first day of August.
"Done!" he said to Kingsley, dragging his Trunk and Hedwig's cage toward the door.
"No, Harry, we're not using the stairs-" said Kingsley, "-we're going down there!" he indicated the open window.
Harry stared perplexed at the window for a moment; he was wondering what trick Kingsley was going to use to get them down on the lawn through it, surely they weren't going to jump!
Kingsley made for the window and stared out of it at the starry night sky for a moment, then made a kind of funny wave with his hand, as though he was beckoning something that was high in the sky above to come to him.
Harry squinted at the sky too, scanning it for the thing that Kingsley was trying to communicate with, and then he saw it.
It was definitely some kind of bird, Harry thought for a fleeting moment that it was an owl, but as it came closer to his window he realized exactly what it was.
Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, soared through the open window and rested gracefully on Harry's bedside table, it's beautiful head turned to face Harry. Hedwig gave a tiny hoot in her cage expressing her disapproval.
"Well, what are you waiting for Harry? Grab his tail," said Kingsley grinning.
Harry clutched Fawkes's tail with one hand and Hedwig's cage with the other, while the phoenix grabbed his trunk with its golden talons. They soared down the window onto the dark lawn.
"Wotcher Harry!" said Tonks cheerfully as the phoenix took off again to fetch Kingsley.
"Hello Tonks," Harry said, grinning. He looked around the oddly dark streets; he had a strange feeling that he was being watched.
Kingsley landed gracefully next to Harry.
"Dumbledore surely has a fine taste when it comes to choosing his pets," said Tonks gleefully, observing the beautiful bird admiringly as it fluttered back upward.
Harry stood there silently with Kingsley and Tonks for several moments having no clue what they were waiting for. He looked from Tonks, who was examining the neat square houses of Privet Drive with a cheerful smile on her face, to Kingsley, who seemed to be scanning the area for any sign of unusual movement.
"So, are we..er..are we going there on brooms?" asked Harry tentatively, looking from Tonks to Kingsley.
"Oh no Harry, I expect it'll be arriving any moment now," said Kingsley, still watching carefully around.
Harry was just about to open his mouth to ask what exactly they were looking for when an earsplitting bang echoed through the sleepy silence and a pair of dazzling headlights illuminated the garden. The next moment Harry found himself being dragged forcibly by Kingsley out of the way as a triple-decker, violently purple bus screeched to a halt on the Dursleys' carefully mown lawn, causing the fence, the hedge, and the flower beds to leap aside as it came.
Harry's eyes darted quickly to the house, but the lights were still off, and there was no sign of movement or noise coming from it. He sighed in relief and looked back at the bus that was standing inches from him, he had traveled by The Knight Bus a couple of times before, and he was familiar with it now.
A familiar thin, pimply, young man in purple uniform jumped out and began to recite loudly:
"Welcome to the Knight Buss-"
"Shush!" said Tonks fiercely, "Enough with the codswallop, Stan! We don't want to wake the whole neighborhood, thank you!" she continued in a barely audible, but fierce voice.
Stan didn't utter a single word; he merely shot Tonks a nasty look, and turned away. His eyes fell upon Harry and darted promptly to his forehead, with a broad smile on his face. Harry turned away from Stan and gazed blankly at the bus; though he was used now to people staring at his scar, he still didn't like being stared at just because of that stupid scar which had given him nothing but sorrow.
Again he felt as though he was being watched and thought it might be Stan's none-blinking gaze that was causing this feeling.
"Alright, you can show up now, the bus's already here, Mad-Eye!" said Tonks impatiently.
A sound of whipping off a cloak came from in front of Harry and Mad-Eye Moody's form appeared exactly in front of him, blocking from view the spot of The Knight Bus that Harry had just been gazing at.
"You didn't feel my presence at all, boy!" growled Moody, his magical eye swiveling madly in all directions, and the many lines and scars on his face casting odd shadows in the light that was coming from The Knight Bus's headlights.
"You should be more careful, I'm not the only one with Invisibility Cloak, you know!" Moody added, his Magical eye resting upon Harry now.
"Er..I'll try!" said Harry awkwardly.
"Lets save the conversations till later, shall we?" said Tonks briskly, shoving Harry into the bus.
Just like the very first time Harry had traveled by the Knight Bus, there were half a dozen brass bedsteads beside the curtained windows, and candles were burning in brackets beside each bed. Harry looked around and saw that there was nobody there at all, except for a tall, stringy, black wizard, who seemed to be fast asleep on the very last bed from the driver's seat. Stan indicated one of the beds for Harry to sit on it and shoved his trunk under it. Tonks and Kingsley had already got onboard and were now sitting on the two beds beside Harry's own so that he was sitting in between them. Harry looked out of the window to see what was keeping Moody from joining them and saw that Moody was now holding a silver instrument that looked like a cigarette lighter, and releasing balls of light out of it that flew back to the extinguished street lamps causing them to glow back with light illuminating the neat houses of Privet Drive.
"Done!" growled Moody as he climbed the bus stairs and headed toward Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley.
The Knight Bus rumbled around the neat streets of Little Whinging for a minute then there was a loud BANG.
Harry was thrown backward onto his bed, and pulling himself up again, he stared out of the window and recognized with a leap of excitement the dark narrow streets they were now rolling through; they were in Hogsmeade, the wizard village.
The bus screeched to a halt just outside The Hog's Head pub. Harry saw the familiar severed hog's head on the sign that was creaking slightly in soft breeze.
Stan, the conductor, was walking toward the end of the bus, where the black wizard lay on his bed.
Harry felt suddenly cold and wished the black wizard, who was now walking sleepily behind Stan toward the bus door, would get off the bus soon so that the door would be closed again restoring the heat inside the bus.
But suddenly, the black wizard stopped dead in his tracks; he looked fully awake now, and he plunged his hand into his robes and Harry had a strong feeling the wizard was clutching his wand under his cloak.
The cold was intensifying rapidly, and the candles flickered and went out leaving the bus swimming in total darkness. Harry was suddenly feeling that horrible familiar feeling, as though he was being drained of happiness, he felt Tonks, Kingsley, and Moody move swiftly somewhere close to him and heard Kingsley's deep voice say:
"Stay put, Harry, don't follow us!"
But Harry had already made up his mind; he whipped out his wand and, shivering, stepped out of the bus into the biting cold.
AN OWL WITH O.W.L.S RESULTS
Harry spent most of the next day in his bedroom, he wrote letters to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. He was feeling an overwhelming desire to meet them, speak to them, he could not stand to spend another day with the Dursleys though he had only few days left till August, which meant going to the burrow to stay with the Weasleys, and although Ron hadn't mentioned a precise date in his letters, Harry was hoping that on the first of August, he'd find Mr. Weasley stepping out of the living room fireplace or knocking on the front door to take Harry with him away from this abominable place. Harry included a question about the precise date of his departure to the burrow in his letter to Ron.
Harry hadn't yet told the Dursleys that Mr. Weasley was going to pick him up, he dreaded the reaction he might get from them, and for all he knew, Mad-eye Moody was not the kind of man who would not keep his word, especially if it concerned something he had been longing to do for ages, like turning uncle Vernon into a warthog for instance, and Harry did not want such an aggravation right now.
As Harry watched his large snowy owl, Hedwig disappear from view with the three scrolls of parchment tied to her legs, he flung himself back onto his bed and lay there motionless.
The scar on Harry's forehead that was shaped like a lightning bolt twinged slightly and he wondered gloomily what Lord Voldemort might be plotting at this very moment.
A succession of memories seemed to roll in front of his eyes like a movie. He was eleven, fighting off a vicious professor Quirrell with Lord Voldemort's snake-like face protruding from the back of his head…he was twelve, the limp form of Ginny Weasley was lying motionless on the ground, and he was holding a gleaming silver sword, with rubies the size of eggs that embellished its handle, while a giant blind serpent was lunging wildly at him…he was thirteen, sending a silver stag out of the tip of his wand at a hundred dementors that were trying to suck out the souls of the unconscious Sirius, Hermione, and his own past form…he was fourteen, gripping tight his wand which was connected by a golden thread of light with the newly reborn Lord Voldemort's wand, and the ghostly forms of Cedric Diggory, his mother and father were standing next to him, bracing him up…he was fifteen, watching from behind a headless golden statue as Dumbledore dueled with the hooded figure of Lord Voldemort.
He remembered gloomily the revolving shape of professor Trelawney that had risen from Dumbledore's Pensieve, and had told him, for the first time, the Prophecy that sentenced him either to murder or be murdered by Lord Voldemort.
His wish to meet his best friend, Ron, intensified though he knew perfectly well that nothing Ron or anybody said would be able to soothe the agony he was feeling inside him. He hadn't even told Ron or anybody else about that Prophecy and he didn't know at the moment how he was going to do it, or whether he wanted to do it at all.
"Dinner!" shouted aunt Petunia's voice from somewhere downstairs, and Harry emerged from the sea of memories he seemed to be drowning in. He didn't want to eat with the Dursleys as, since yesterday's events, they seemed to have decided to behave in the very same way during every meal; uncle Vernon glared silently but menacingly at Harry, aunt Petunia shot him very nasty looks every now and then, and Dudley eyed him fearfully as though he was going to turn him into a rat at any moment.
Harry stayed in his room, lying on his back on the bed, and gazing through the open window into the star-strewn night sky.
Something was moving in the distance, a dot was becoming larger steadily. As it got closer, the thing seemed to be a bird, and as it became feet away from Harry's window, he realized that it was an owl. It couldn't possibly be Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, as this one seemed to be much larger. Could it possibly be from Hermione or Hagrid? Could any of them possibly have sent him a reply to his letter as quickly as this? Or is it just another letter from a fan?
The owl soared through the open window and landed gracefully on Hedwig's empty cage. There was a large brown formal-looking envelope in its beak.
Harry stretched a hand and clutched the envelope. The owl gave a tiny hoot, and took off again into the starry sky.
Harry examined the envelope; it had both The Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts crests on it. His heart gave a leap of excitement; he knew at once what that envelope contained. He ripped open the envelope with shaky hands, and took out the neat piece of parchment that was enclosed, and which bore the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts seals on its bottom, and, his heart racing, he began scanning it feverishly.
MINISTRY OF MAGIC - THE WIZARDING EXAMINATIONS AUTHORITY
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT MR. HARRY JAMES POTTER, STUDENT AT HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY, HAS ACHIEVED THE FOLLOWING DEGREES IN HIS ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL EXAMS:
ASTRONOMY: ACCEPTABLE
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: OUTSTANDING
CHARMS: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: OUTSTANDING
DIVINATION: ACCEPTABLE
HERBOLOGY: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
HISTORY OF MAGIC: ACCEPTABLE
POTIONS: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
TRANSFIGURATION: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS
SIGNED:
CORNELIUS FUDGE
MINISTER OF MAGIC
GRISELDA MARCHBANKS
HEAD OF THE WIZARDING EXAMINATIONS AUTHORITY
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Harry could not believe what he had just read, he scanned the piece of parchment over and over again, and when he had finally finished, he put down the parchment on his bedside table and lay down again on his back on the bed. He had managed to scrape passes in all nine O.W.L.s, he had even passed in Divination which had been, perhaps, the most dreadful exam he had ever done, and what was more, he had actually managed to scrape an E in his Potions O.W.L when he had only dared to hope for an A in his wildest dreams. He remembered, however, that professor McGonagall had once told him that Snape took in his class only students who had managed an O in their Potions O.W.L, but that was hardly something to grieve about, as professor Snape, the Potions master at Hogwarts, happened to be Harry's least favorite teacher, and his hatred to Snape actually had intensified after the death of Harry's godfather, Sirius, as he, Harry, still considered Snape to be responsible for his godfather's death somehow.
The next few days seemed to be quite eventless, apart from the daily owls from fans. Harry actually continued to stroll the streets of Little Whinging hoping to meet again his newly discovered cousin, Mark Evans, but he didn't.
On July the 31st, Harry received the replies to the letters he had sent to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid, along with his birthday presents.
Ron had actually sent him a box of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, and Harry remembered vividly how Umbridge and Filch had once tried vainly to extinguish the outstanding fireworks that the Weasley twins had set loose in the castle. He could not help but to smile widely at that thought.
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday.
As for your question about the precise date on which dad's going to pick you up, I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you, dad reckons it's still too risky to write such things in letters, in case they fell into the wrong hands. But I think it's going to be soon enough.
I reckon I'll be seeing you soon then, so until we meet, don't let the muggles get you down.
Take care mate,
Ron
P.S: Fred and George insisted on presenting you with something of their own merchandise, so actually this present is from the three of us.
Harry put down Ron's letter and imagined the twins sitting in their premises in Diagon Alley, grinning widely while they counted their proceeds of Galleons.
Hermione, however had sent him an extraordinary birthday cake, which came in handy as he was still avoiding eating with the Dursleys too often. She had also sent him a letter in which she asked him about his O.W.L.s results, and informed him proudly that she had gotten nine Outstandings.
Hagrid's gift was some homemade cake, which Harry thought he had made a very wise decision by presenting it to Ripper, the Dursleys' bulldog, who turned a shade of green immediately after taking the first bite at it, and barked madly in protest. Hagrid had also sent him a letter, which turned out to be a short article about Grawp, Hagrid's little giant brother.
On the first day of August, Harry hardly stayed put, he was pacing the house, peeking into the living room, hoping to catch any sign of movement inside the boarded living room fireplace, and he strained his ears every time he passed near the front door, wishing to hear any slight sign of a knock on the door, but nothing happened. The only outcome was that uncle Vernon's face went all puce, and he glared madly at Harry every time he came near him.
Harry sat on his desk in his room a few days later, writing grumpily the regular letter in which he informed the members of the Order of the Phoenix that he was alright and not being mistreated. It was late in the night and Hedwig was out hunting, so he put down his quill and waited gloomily for his snowy owl to emerge, perhaps carrying a dead mouse in her beak. He was almost as angry with Mr. Weasley as he had been with his friends, Ron and Hermione last summer.
He was gazing at the twinkling stars outside the open window, he felt a bit drowsy so he took off his glasses and leaned backward in his chair. A soft breeze drifted through the open window tickling his face slightly. He closed his eyes and, almost instantly, he was back in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. It was deserted, he was standing on top of the stone stairs gazing down at the ancient archway with that tattered black veil that had haunted his dreams since the day Sirius had went through it. He hurtled down the stone steps, his heart beating faster with every step he took. He climbed the dais at the bottom of the room and headed steadily toward the veil. He was now standing inches from the tattered veil, listening hard to the whispers that were coming from beyond, and then he heard it. A voice was calling his name from beyond the veil; it was unmistakably his godfather, Sirius's hoarse voice.
Harry's heart was hammering somewhere behind his Adam's apple, he felt something tap gently on his forehead. "Harry, Harry!" his godfather's voice called, and he extended his hand toward the veil, but the tapping on his forehead was becoming slightly painful. He opened his eyes and saw with a huge jolt of horror, something grey and hairy dangling half an inch from his nose. He gave an echoing yell and staggered backwards and, losing his balance, he toppled off his chair and fell to the floor, with a painful thud, on his back.
Harry massaged his aching back and squinted blearily at the thing that had just attacked him and discovered that it was a dead rat dangling from his own owl, Hedwig's beak.
Harry listened hard for a moment to detect if there was any sound coming from the Dursleys' bedroom, but he heard nothing except the loud snorts that uncle Vernon was issuing, which meant Harry was safe.
"You couldn't come back a minute later, could you?" Harry told his owl angrily, snatching the dead rat from her beak and tying up the scroll of parchment, that was his letter to the Order, to one of her legs.
Hedwig gave a tiny indignant hoot and took off again through the open window, evidently mad at Harry for depriving her of her meal.
Harry blinked and picked up his glasses that were lying on his desk and put them back on, he didn't feel like going back to sleep.
He leaned back on his chair and stared blankly at the ceiling. What were all those dreams about? He had been having the same dream for a while now, the dream that featured him alone in the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries. Could that be another trick of Lord Voldemort's? Could Voldemort possibly be trying to lure Harry again into the Ministry of Magic, like he had done successfully only a few weeks ago and Harry had been stupid enough to do exactly as Voldemort had wanted him to do, resulting in the death of the dearest person to him, his godfather, Sirius?
Harry spent more eventless few days, waiting for Mr. Weasley to show up, and jumping every time the doorbell rang, expecting to find Mr. Weasley waiting for him behind the door with an apologetic grin on his face, but it didn't happen.
Time elapsed and Harry had almost lost any hope that anyone was going to pick him up at all. He lay on his bed on the eighth of August, thinking about the proper way to shout at Mr. Weasley in case he ever arrived at Number 4. Privet Drive. It was 10 minutes past midnight when Harry felt himself surrender to sleep in spite of his fury. He was soon fast asleep though he thought he was hearing noises in the distance.
Harry felt someone prod him gently in the ribs and, yawning widely, he slowly opened his sleepy eyes.
The thing that Harry saw in front of him made his heart give a horrible jolt.
Standing in front of him, silhouetted against the ray of moonlight that was coming through the open window, was a towering figure that looked so formidable in the golden moonlight. It was the silhouette of a huge man who was holding in one of his hands what looked unmistakably like a wand. Harry leapt backwards, he was fully awake now, his heart was racing, and cold sweat was oozing from every inch of his body, he fumbled frantically on his bedside table for his wand, but the wizard was faster than him. "Accio wand!" whispered the tall wizard and Harry's wand soared in the air and rested in the wizard's free hand.
"It's OK Harry, it's me!" said a deep familiar voice, in a low tone.
"Kingsley?" said Harry uncertainly, squinting hard in the darkness at the huge shape in front of him.
"Lumos!" said the deep voice of the tall wizard and his wand tip ignited illuminating Harry's room. He held it up as though he was holding a torch, and his face swam clearly into vision, illuminated by the magical light; it was the face of the familiar bald black wizard with a single hoop in his ear, Kingsley Shacklebolt, beaming at Harry.
"Sorry about this unexpected entrance, Harry, but Dumbledore's orders are clear; he does not wish to draw much attention to your departure," said Kingsly, chucking Harry's wand back to him. Harry caught his wand and stared at Kingsley, still struggling to take in what was going on.
"I…I thought you were voldemort!" said Harry tentatively. He had expected Kingsley to flinch, or at least to show a sign of disapproval of mentioning the name that most of the wizarding world referred to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but on the contrary, Kingsley gave a weak chuckle.
"He wouldn't be turning up here, now, would he?" said Kingsley grinning.
"Now, You'd better get packed Harry, we wouldn't want to be late," said Kingsley, shooting a brief look at the open window.
Harry realized suddenly that Kingsley could not possibly have been the only one who had been sent to accompany him. He got off his bed, rushed to the open window and gazed down at the dark lawn.
The street seemed to be oddly dark, even darker than it was usually at night, the only light seemed to be coming from the moon, but Harry, nevertheless, could make up the silhouette of a young woman waving at him from the lawn below, and even in the pitch-black darkness, Harry could recognize the familiar spiky hair. It was Nymphadora Tonks, the young Auror. He waved back at her and turned back to face Kingsley.
"Where's Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked.
"He's still on duty, but I expect He'd be back by the time we've arrived," said Kingsley.
Harry did not have much to do as he had already packed his trunk, having been expecting Mr. Weasley to arrive at any moment since the first day of August.
"Done!" he said to Kingsley, dragging his Trunk and Hedwig's cage toward the door.
"No, Harry, we're not using the stairs-" said Kingsley, "-we're going down there!" he indicated the open window.
Harry stared perplexed at the window for a moment; he was wondering what trick Kingsley was going to use to get them down on the lawn through it, surely they weren't going to jump!
Kingsley made for the window and stared out of it at the starry night sky for a moment, then made a kind of funny wave with his hand, as though he was beckoning something that was high in the sky above to come to him.
Harry squinted at the sky too, scanning it for the thing that Kingsley was trying to communicate with, and then he saw it.
It was definitely some kind of bird, Harry thought for a fleeting moment that it was an owl, but as it came closer to his window he realized exactly what it was.
Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, soared through the open window and rested gracefully on Harry's bedside table, it's beautiful head turned to face Harry. Hedwig gave a tiny hoot in her cage expressing her disapproval.
"Well, what are you waiting for Harry? Grab his tail," said Kingsley grinning.
Harry clutched Fawkes's tail with one hand and Hedwig's cage with the other, while the phoenix grabbed his trunk with its golden talons. They soared down the window onto the dark lawn.
"Wotcher Harry!" said Tonks cheerfully as the phoenix took off again to fetch Kingsley.
"Hello Tonks," Harry said, grinning. He looked around the oddly dark streets; he had a strange feeling that he was being watched.
Kingsley landed gracefully next to Harry.
"Dumbledore surely has a fine taste when it comes to choosing his pets," said Tonks gleefully, observing the beautiful bird admiringly as it fluttered back upward.
Harry stood there silently with Kingsley and Tonks for several moments having no clue what they were waiting for. He looked from Tonks, who was examining the neat square houses of Privet Drive with a cheerful smile on her face, to Kingsley, who seemed to be scanning the area for any sign of unusual movement.
"So, are we..er..are we going there on brooms?" asked Harry tentatively, looking from Tonks to Kingsley.
"Oh no Harry, I expect it'll be arriving any moment now," said Kingsley, still watching carefully around.
Harry was just about to open his mouth to ask what exactly they were looking for when an earsplitting bang echoed through the sleepy silence and a pair of dazzling headlights illuminated the garden. The next moment Harry found himself being dragged forcibly by Kingsley out of the way as a triple-decker, violently purple bus screeched to a halt on the Dursleys' carefully mown lawn, causing the fence, the hedge, and the flower beds to leap aside as it came.
Harry's eyes darted quickly to the house, but the lights were still off, and there was no sign of movement or noise coming from it. He sighed in relief and looked back at the bus that was standing inches from him, he had traveled by The Knight Bus a couple of times before, and he was familiar with it now.
A familiar thin, pimply, young man in purple uniform jumped out and began to recite loudly:
"Welcome to the Knight Buss-"
"Shush!" said Tonks fiercely, "Enough with the codswallop, Stan! We don't want to wake the whole neighborhood, thank you!" she continued in a barely audible, but fierce voice.
Stan didn't utter a single word; he merely shot Tonks a nasty look, and turned away. His eyes fell upon Harry and darted promptly to his forehead, with a broad smile on his face. Harry turned away from Stan and gazed blankly at the bus; though he was used now to people staring at his scar, he still didn't like being stared at just because of that stupid scar which had given him nothing but sorrow.
Again he felt as though he was being watched and thought it might be Stan's none-blinking gaze that was causing this feeling.
"Alright, you can show up now, the bus's already here, Mad-Eye!" said Tonks impatiently.
A sound of whipping off a cloak came from in front of Harry and Mad-Eye Moody's form appeared exactly in front of him, blocking from view the spot of The Knight Bus that Harry had just been gazing at.
"You didn't feel my presence at all, boy!" growled Moody, his magical eye swiveling madly in all directions, and the many lines and scars on his face casting odd shadows in the light that was coming from The Knight Bus's headlights.
"You should be more careful, I'm not the only one with Invisibility Cloak, you know!" Moody added, his Magical eye resting upon Harry now.
"Er..I'll try!" said Harry awkwardly.
"Lets save the conversations till later, shall we?" said Tonks briskly, shoving Harry into the bus.
Just like the very first time Harry had traveled by the Knight Bus, there were half a dozen brass bedsteads beside the curtained windows, and candles were burning in brackets beside each bed. Harry looked around and saw that there was nobody there at all, except for a tall, stringy, black wizard, who seemed to be fast asleep on the very last bed from the driver's seat. Stan indicated one of the beds for Harry to sit on it and shoved his trunk under it. Tonks and Kingsley had already got onboard and were now sitting on the two beds beside Harry's own so that he was sitting in between them. Harry looked out of the window to see what was keeping Moody from joining them and saw that Moody was now holding a silver instrument that looked like a cigarette lighter, and releasing balls of light out of it that flew back to the extinguished street lamps causing them to glow back with light illuminating the neat houses of Privet Drive.
"Done!" growled Moody as he climbed the bus stairs and headed toward Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley.
The Knight Bus rumbled around the neat streets of Little Whinging for a minute then there was a loud BANG.
Harry was thrown backward onto his bed, and pulling himself up again, he stared out of the window and recognized with a leap of excitement the dark narrow streets they were now rolling through; they were in Hogsmeade, the wizard village.
The bus screeched to a halt just outside The Hog's Head pub. Harry saw the familiar severed hog's head on the sign that was creaking slightly in soft breeze.
Stan, the conductor, was walking toward the end of the bus, where the black wizard lay on his bed.
Harry felt suddenly cold and wished the black wizard, who was now walking sleepily behind Stan toward the bus door, would get off the bus soon so that the door would be closed again restoring the heat inside the bus.
But suddenly, the black wizard stopped dead in his tracks; he looked fully awake now, and he plunged his hand into his robes and Harry had a strong feeling the wizard was clutching his wand under his cloak.
The cold was intensifying rapidly, and the candles flickered and went out leaving the bus swimming in total darkness. Harry was suddenly feeling that horrible familiar feeling, as though he was being drained of happiness, he felt Tonks, Kingsley, and Moody move swiftly somewhere close to him and heard Kingsley's deep voice say:
"Stay put, Harry, don't follow us!"
But Harry had already made up his mind; he whipped out his wand and, shivering, stepped out of the bus into the biting cold.