Chapter 1: The Unexpected Party
Harry Potter woke up at 8am on the 31st of July. He had been 17 for 8 hours without realising it. He stretched, got out of bed and shuffled over to the mirror, just to check that his reflection hadn't changed since the last time he had looked for the purposes of the narrator having an easy way to introduce a description of his appearance.
Funnily enough, it had. Harry stared at his reflection and saw a skinny boy with jet black hair and blue eyes staring black. But blue is the least witchy colour for eyes to possibly be, Harry objected to himself before realising that, as a main character, it was expected that he have blue eyes. Besides, his mother, the eyes of whom he had often been told he was in possession of, must have finally wanted her eyes back, so he had been forced to actually use his own eyes.
This may seem strange to you or me, and, actually, it did to Harry as well, but Harry Potter was not an ordinary boy. Firstly, there was a series of successful movies based on an even more successful series of books that chronicled his life. Secondly, he was destined to either kill, or be killed by Lord Voldemort, a very powerful and evil man. Oh yeah, and he was a wizard – bet you didn't know that (this bet is only valid if you have been hiding in a cave for the past few years, and even then, it has to be a very remote cave).
This is normally the point where there is a synopsis of the previous years of Harry's life. However, as you have been driven to reading fanfictions about Harry Potter, we can safely assume you can recite all five books from memory, which kind of does away with the need to explain Harry's past. At least you can still be superior to those lost souls who actually write fanfics.
Harry sighed as he thought of the fun and action-packed day that he was probably going to have – he might even get a toothpick! Having this exciting event to look forward to, Harry made his way downstairs. As he approached the kitchen –
"Happy birthday!" many voices cried out and he noticed that there were balloons decorating the hallway. Surely the Dursleys hadn't gone to all this trouble? No, as it turned out, they hadn't, although, in Mrs. Dursley's opinion, a paper clip attached to a postcard was more than generous to a boy who they fed and housed out of the goodness of their hearts. Oh...alright. The fear of screaming, red envelopes might have had something to do with the fact that he wasn't starving on the streets.
Harry soon realised that the Dursleys, unless it was some kind of new fashion they had got into without him noticing, did not have bright red hair.
"Listen, mate," Ron said, before Harry had a chance, "Some of You- Know-Who's followers have managed to escape. Dumbledore thinks he's gonna attack you again. You should be at Hogwarts."
"Dumbledore thinks I'll be safer at Hogwarts?" he exclaimed, shocked. What happened to that blood protection thing? Were the people in front of him Death Eaters who had taken Polyjuice Potion?
That was another unusual thing about Harry – paranoid by the age of 17. Tragic. Most people would have to take hard core drugs to achieve this.
"Are you a Death Eater who has taken Polyjuice Potion?" asked Harry, just to make sure this wasn't the case. Obviously, if it was a Death Eater who had taken Polyjuice Potion, then he/she could take three courses of action. They might be caught off guard by this question and answering in the affirmative before remembering that they were in disguise. The might be so impressed by Harry's accurate suspicions, that they would confirm them out of sheer respect. Finally, they may reason that Harry was already onto them, so they might as well give up before their futile attempts to gain his trust became embarrassing.
"No," answered Hermione, appearing from behind Ron. It was strange that Hermione had stayed with Ron over the summer for the previous three years (she did in the summer leading up to their sixth year as well, for reasons we won't tell you, just to add a slight hint of mystery). You would think that her parents would question her motives for wanting to sleep over at a boy's house. You would also think her parents, who don't see her for the rest of the year, because whenever there is an exciting mystery/adventure, which there always is, she stays at Hogwarts for Christmas, might want to actually spend time with their daughter. As well as that, you may think that Ginny would get sick of sharing her room with Hermione – she's Ron's friend after all, not Ginny's.
"Ok," said Harry – "no" was good enough for him – it didn't feature in any of the three possible reactions of a Death Eater. Hermione expanded anyway –
"The thing is, last time we left you on your own for most of the summer, you had major stresses at regular intervals when you were finally back among us. Dumbledore investigated the possible causes for these fits of anger, and concluded that the most likely reason is PMT. Now, you can't just go round turning into a girl, mail because Harrietta is a ridiculous name, but also because you live at a boarding school, which only has boy and girl dormitories and no transsexual dormitories. There is a definite link between the PMT and the being left alone, so by reducing the time you are left with the Dursleys, we can hopefully slow, or even stop your conversion into a girl.
After this long and, in Harry's view, rather disturbing explanation, all the other Weasleys piled out of the kitchen to wish him a happy birthday.
"But how did you get in?" Harry asked after greeting them all.
"Magic," Mr Weasley replied, which was a completely inadequate response as the Weasleys barely ever travelled without magic. However, to actually tell Harry how they did get there would be a waste of time, because, as everyone knows, every year, a new method of transport is introduced which Harry has never heard of, but somehow, Hermione has. This particular mode of transport will not be used again and therefore does not require explanation (but does require a paragraph to explain why it does not require explanation). It is sufficient to know that they are travelling to Hogwarts using a portkey.
After an extremely nutritious breakfast of birthday cake, Mr Weasley set up the portkey for Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione. They gathered around the portkey – a banana skin – picked it up and WHOOSH! They found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. After picking themselves up off the floor (and Hermione throwing the banana skin in the bin because she's the only one with any consideration for house elves), they decided to go find Dumbledore. This didn't take very long because he was, conveniently, at that moment, talking to the Fat Lady.
"You arrived here safely then," Dumbledore said, in what Harry thought was a very distracted tone. This worried Harry – Dumbledore would only be distracted if Voldemort was doing something bad (and yes, that last adjective is entirely necessary, as Voldemort might well be doing something relaxing, like stroking a fluffy, white cat).
"I can organise trips to Hogsmeade or to Diagon Alley if you get bored. I just wanted you here so I could keep an eye on you – make sure that Voldemort doesn't get you..." he explained. Then, he added, completely unnecessarily, to Harry's mind, "and, of course, your little oestrogen problem, Harry." Then he walked away again, muttering to himself.
"Did he seem a bit, well, odd to you?" Hermione asked, and then, just to clarify, "More odd than normal, I mean."
"Yeah," replied Harry. He turned to the picture and said, "Fat Lady, can I ask you a question?"
"It's my glands," the Fat Lady answered heavily, "the stupid artist painted them wrong and I just bloat f I eat the tiniest thing." She paused, "It would make me feel so much better if you called me Horizontally Over-Endowed Lady..."
"Right," said Harry, eyeing the large slice of chocolate cake in her hand, "actually, that wasn't what I was going to ask. I was just wondering what you were talking to the headmaster about."
"Sherbet Lemons," the Horizontally Over-Endowed Lady said in a slightly huffy tone.
"Come on, you can tell us," Ron urged – although he knew that Dumbledore had a fondness for sherbet lemons, he didn't believe that he would actually discuss said fondness with paintings. Then, miraculously, for the first and last time in his life, he realised why someone was reacting badly, and said, "He didn't mean he doesn't care about your glands..."
But she wouldn't say any more.
Harry Potter woke up at 8am on the 31st of July. He had been 17 for 8 hours without realising it. He stretched, got out of bed and shuffled over to the mirror, just to check that his reflection hadn't changed since the last time he had looked for the purposes of the narrator having an easy way to introduce a description of his appearance.
Funnily enough, it had. Harry stared at his reflection and saw a skinny boy with jet black hair and blue eyes staring black. But blue is the least witchy colour for eyes to possibly be, Harry objected to himself before realising that, as a main character, it was expected that he have blue eyes. Besides, his mother, the eyes of whom he had often been told he was in possession of, must have finally wanted her eyes back, so he had been forced to actually use his own eyes.
This may seem strange to you or me, and, actually, it did to Harry as well, but Harry Potter was not an ordinary boy. Firstly, there was a series of successful movies based on an even more successful series of books that chronicled his life. Secondly, he was destined to either kill, or be killed by Lord Voldemort, a very powerful and evil man. Oh yeah, and he was a wizard – bet you didn't know that (this bet is only valid if you have been hiding in a cave for the past few years, and even then, it has to be a very remote cave).
This is normally the point where there is a synopsis of the previous years of Harry's life. However, as you have been driven to reading fanfictions about Harry Potter, we can safely assume you can recite all five books from memory, which kind of does away with the need to explain Harry's past. At least you can still be superior to those lost souls who actually write fanfics.
Harry sighed as he thought of the fun and action-packed day that he was probably going to have – he might even get a toothpick! Having this exciting event to look forward to, Harry made his way downstairs. As he approached the kitchen –
"Happy birthday!" many voices cried out and he noticed that there were balloons decorating the hallway. Surely the Dursleys hadn't gone to all this trouble? No, as it turned out, they hadn't, although, in Mrs. Dursley's opinion, a paper clip attached to a postcard was more than generous to a boy who they fed and housed out of the goodness of their hearts. Oh...alright. The fear of screaming, red envelopes might have had something to do with the fact that he wasn't starving on the streets.
Harry soon realised that the Dursleys, unless it was some kind of new fashion they had got into without him noticing, did not have bright red hair.
"Listen, mate," Ron said, before Harry had a chance, "Some of You- Know-Who's followers have managed to escape. Dumbledore thinks he's gonna attack you again. You should be at Hogwarts."
"Dumbledore thinks I'll be safer at Hogwarts?" he exclaimed, shocked. What happened to that blood protection thing? Were the people in front of him Death Eaters who had taken Polyjuice Potion?
That was another unusual thing about Harry – paranoid by the age of 17. Tragic. Most people would have to take hard core drugs to achieve this.
"Are you a Death Eater who has taken Polyjuice Potion?" asked Harry, just to make sure this wasn't the case. Obviously, if it was a Death Eater who had taken Polyjuice Potion, then he/she could take three courses of action. They might be caught off guard by this question and answering in the affirmative before remembering that they were in disguise. The might be so impressed by Harry's accurate suspicions, that they would confirm them out of sheer respect. Finally, they may reason that Harry was already onto them, so they might as well give up before their futile attempts to gain his trust became embarrassing.
"No," answered Hermione, appearing from behind Ron. It was strange that Hermione had stayed with Ron over the summer for the previous three years (she did in the summer leading up to their sixth year as well, for reasons we won't tell you, just to add a slight hint of mystery). You would think that her parents would question her motives for wanting to sleep over at a boy's house. You would also think her parents, who don't see her for the rest of the year, because whenever there is an exciting mystery/adventure, which there always is, she stays at Hogwarts for Christmas, might want to actually spend time with their daughter. As well as that, you may think that Ginny would get sick of sharing her room with Hermione – she's Ron's friend after all, not Ginny's.
"Ok," said Harry – "no" was good enough for him – it didn't feature in any of the three possible reactions of a Death Eater. Hermione expanded anyway –
"The thing is, last time we left you on your own for most of the summer, you had major stresses at regular intervals when you were finally back among us. Dumbledore investigated the possible causes for these fits of anger, and concluded that the most likely reason is PMT. Now, you can't just go round turning into a girl, mail because Harrietta is a ridiculous name, but also because you live at a boarding school, which only has boy and girl dormitories and no transsexual dormitories. There is a definite link between the PMT and the being left alone, so by reducing the time you are left with the Dursleys, we can hopefully slow, or even stop your conversion into a girl.
After this long and, in Harry's view, rather disturbing explanation, all the other Weasleys piled out of the kitchen to wish him a happy birthday.
"But how did you get in?" Harry asked after greeting them all.
"Magic," Mr Weasley replied, which was a completely inadequate response as the Weasleys barely ever travelled without magic. However, to actually tell Harry how they did get there would be a waste of time, because, as everyone knows, every year, a new method of transport is introduced which Harry has never heard of, but somehow, Hermione has. This particular mode of transport will not be used again and therefore does not require explanation (but does require a paragraph to explain why it does not require explanation). It is sufficient to know that they are travelling to Hogwarts using a portkey.
After an extremely nutritious breakfast of birthday cake, Mr Weasley set up the portkey for Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione. They gathered around the portkey – a banana skin – picked it up and WHOOSH! They found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. After picking themselves up off the floor (and Hermione throwing the banana skin in the bin because she's the only one with any consideration for house elves), they decided to go find Dumbledore. This didn't take very long because he was, conveniently, at that moment, talking to the Fat Lady.
"You arrived here safely then," Dumbledore said, in what Harry thought was a very distracted tone. This worried Harry – Dumbledore would only be distracted if Voldemort was doing something bad (and yes, that last adjective is entirely necessary, as Voldemort might well be doing something relaxing, like stroking a fluffy, white cat).
"I can organise trips to Hogsmeade or to Diagon Alley if you get bored. I just wanted you here so I could keep an eye on you – make sure that Voldemort doesn't get you..." he explained. Then, he added, completely unnecessarily, to Harry's mind, "and, of course, your little oestrogen problem, Harry." Then he walked away again, muttering to himself.
"Did he seem a bit, well, odd to you?" Hermione asked, and then, just to clarify, "More odd than normal, I mean."
"Yeah," replied Harry. He turned to the picture and said, "Fat Lady, can I ask you a question?"
"It's my glands," the Fat Lady answered heavily, "the stupid artist painted them wrong and I just bloat f I eat the tiniest thing." She paused, "It would make me feel so much better if you called me Horizontally Over-Endowed Lady..."
"Right," said Harry, eyeing the large slice of chocolate cake in her hand, "actually, that wasn't what I was going to ask. I was just wondering what you were talking to the headmaster about."
"Sherbet Lemons," the Horizontally Over-Endowed Lady said in a slightly huffy tone.
"Come on, you can tell us," Ron urged – although he knew that Dumbledore had a fondness for sherbet lemons, he didn't believe that he would actually discuss said fondness with paintings. Then, miraculously, for the first and last time in his life, he realised why someone was reacting badly, and said, "He didn't mean he doesn't care about your glands..."
But she wouldn't say any more.