Harry Potter
and
The Weapon of Destruction
Chapter one
O.W.L.s
Bright green eyes stared out of Harry Potter's mirror, exactly opposite of where Harry was standing. In front of those eyes, though, were new glasses; and above those eyes and new glasses was a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Harry stopped looking at his reflection and turned around. His room was a mess. He had only been here three days, and his books and clothes were spread out everywhere. He sighed. The last day of his life so far had been incredibly boring. Harry had done all his homework in the first thirty-five hours of living in the Dursley's house. His Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and his cousin Dudley Dursley, all hated Harry's guts, and Harry couldn't really say that he felt much different towards them.
His aunt, uncle, and cousin had reason to hate him, though; they hated anything out of the ordinary, and Harry was exactly the opposite of ordinary. The books and clothes scattered around his room weren't ordinary- why, one book was jumping up and down, bound shut tight by a leather belt. The scar on his forehead was no ordinary scar. Harry got that scar from the most powerful Dark Sorceror of all time- Lord Voldemort. Voldemort had lost all his powers when he tried to kill little Harry, because something he hadn't banked on faulted him that night. Harry's mother's love saved him. When Voldemort used the curse that had killed many of the best witches and wizards of the time on Harry, Voldemort was finally stopped. And so he fled, waiting, to return to power.
And, after thirteen years, a little more than a year ago, Lord Voldemort once again regained power. Unfortunately, the prospect of Voldemort rising to power again was too horrible for the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, to believe. So he made up lies about Harry and Dumbledore, the first person to hear and believe his story, and try to get the message out that Lord Voldemort had, indeed, risen once again.
Then, not even two weeks ago, the person Harry loved most, Sirius Black, his godfather, was killed. Since he had left Hogwarts, Harry had been trying to ignore his thoughts about Sirius, trying to keep from crying, by doing his homework, and then, when he was done, persuaded the Dursley's to get him some new glasses.
Harry thought that the glasses made him look a little bit less scrawny. Indeed, Harry Potter was a small, skinny teenager, almost sixteen years old, with messy coal-black hair. But Harry wasn't as thin as he used to be- since he had started at Hogwarts and been fed up by Mrs. Weasley, his best friend, Ron's mother, he had gotten bigger. Strangely enough, it wasn't fat. If you looked closely, you could see a few muscles in his stomach.
Harry realized that he was still looking down at his stomach ten minutes later, and dropped his shirt down. Bored, he went over to his bed and sat down. Quite suddenly, though, a loud THUNK! penetrated the room. Harry stood up lightning-fast and whipped out his wand. He saw movement in the corner of his eye- but, no, it was Errol, Ron's owl.
Harry walked over, opened the window, and watched Errol stagger in. Before he could hit the ground, though, Harry caught him and put him in Hedwig's cage, where he lay there, seemingly unconscious.
Harry ripped open the letter.
Dear Harry,
How's it going at you-know-where? We should be able to pick you up soon. Don't worry- it won't be long, mate. Hang in there. Things are looking much better around here. Tell you more when we see you.
Don't get down,
Ron
arry put the letter onto his wardrobe. At least he would be able to leave soon. He had been wondering how long he'd have to stay miserable.
Just then, another owl floated in. Harry recognized the Hogwarts crest on its chest almost immediately. He looked at the owl confusedly for a moment, and then realized what it must mean. Heart pounding, he reached out and took the letter that the owl was carrying. It took off, flying into the black night; but Harry paid no attention to this. His hand trembling, he unsealed the letter. He didn't realise how much the O.W.L.s meant to him. The O.W.L.s, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels, were tough exams to see how well you did in a class. The O.W.L.s pretty much decided what choices you had in getting a job in the future.
Sweating, he slid out the letter, and felt the familiar roll of parchment under his fingers. Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, he read:
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that this letter contains your O.W.L. (Ordinary Wizarding Level) grades. Please note that in any class, you must achieve at least an E (Exceeds Expectations) for the O.W.L. Alternately, some teachers require an O (Outstanding). You will see your grades listed, and if it has 'Yes' written by it, it means that you have gotten an O.W.L. for that class. Below are the possible grades to receive:
O (Outstanding)
E (Exceeds Expectations)
A (Acceptable)
P (Poor)
D (Dunce)
T (Troll)
Divination: T (Troll)
History of Magic: D (Dunce)
Transfiguration: E (Exceeds Expectations) Yes
Potions: O (Outstanding) Yes
Herbology: E (Exceeds Expectations) Yes
Charms: E (Exceeds Expectations) Yes
Care of Magical Creatures: O (Outstanding) Yes
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O (Outstanding [Extra credit]) Yes
Harry carefully read and reread his results. Most of his grades didn't surprise him, except for his Potions grade. He was thoroughly surprised to see that. Somehow he had got an O.W.L. for Potions… but how could this be? He had thought he had only gotten an A… well, he thought, at least I got it!
Then his results started to sink in. He read through the letter one last time. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had scraped enough grades to give him a chance to be an Auror! Harry sat down numbly on his bed, but almost immediately jumped up again as Pigwidgeon, Ron's other owl, soared into the room. He had a letter attached to his leg.
Harry took the letter, and opened it slowly. This time he recognized not Ron's writing, but his other best friend's, Hermione. As he thought about Hermione, his stomach did a sort of flip, but he ignored it and read the letter:
Dear Harry,
Did you get your O.W.L.s??? Ron and I did! I got O.W.L.s for all my classes, except for Potions, I only got an E. I'm so disappointed! Ron only got 3 O.W.L.s, in Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. How many did you get?
Love,
Hermione
Harry couldn't believe it. Hermione didn't get an O.W.L. in Potions, but he did? What were the odds of that? And there was a definite downside to Ron only getting three O.W.L.s- it meant that Harry only had half of his classed with Ron that he normally had.
Glumly, Harry wrote his reply. He attached the letter to Pigwidgeon, and watched him fly off into the night. He heard Errol rustle behind him. He went over and lay on the bed, preparing to go to bed. Look on the bright side, Harry told himself, at least you're still with Hermione in most of your classes. Once again, Harry's stomach did a little flip, but before he could ponder why, his eyes closed and he fell into a troubled sleep.