Harry Potter and the Golden Bell 2: Secrets of the Bell
Chapter 2
Moving Vans
A/N: I'm glad I FINALLY got 5 reviews. I wasn't going to post until I did and THANK YOU to: Kat, HeWasTheirFriend, Wolfgirl64, PhelpsFan04, but not as much to dobby.
and this is a little longer...just read it. It's good, you're going to want to. I hope. Actually in case you're wondering, I have like...3 more chapters written. I haven't done anything with this in a LOOONG time. I saw National Treasure and that was it. I'm working on both of those. Once I get some reviews and I eventually post all the one's i've written, THEN I'll write. By then it'll be July and I'll be in the mood again because of HBP. Anyway, READ.
July 29, 1997
Dear Harry,
How are you? Summer going fine so far? I'm sure it has been. I've been allright myself. Mum went to visit Fred and George at the "Wheezes" yesterday. She didn't look too happy when she came in, that being the result of shock that came from a 'Goblin-In-A-Box'. Fred put it in her hands when she came in, and the thing exploded out of the blue box, frightening mum to death. It was pretty funny, actually. But, she got on fine inside after that. I reckon she was a bit proud of them, though. Having starting their own joke shop. Next time she sees you, I hope she thanks you for giving them the money to start it.
Hermione's here. She stayed over the last two nights, and she's leaving tomorrow. She told me that she'll be writing you a birthday note. Happy Birthday, from me, anyway, if I don't write after this. I don't think there'll be a need to write tomorrow. I'm writing this now because I have nothing else to do. Hermione's in Ginny's room with her, Fred and George are at the "Wheezes", Mum and Dad are trying to figure out how to work the television that dad bought in the Muggle world, and I'm stuck here up in my room. I don't even know what Percy's doing, and I honestly really don't care. Mum still twitches when we mention him. Bill and Charlie are in Scotland together on a bit of a holiday. They wrote and said that they'd be coming to visit soon.
This is getting a bit long, and Hermione wants to go outside anyway. I'll see you next year, mate.
Hope you're well,
Ron
Harry Birthday from Molly, Arthur, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George.
P.S. Hope you like the presents we sent.
July 30, 1997
Dear Harry,
Hello! How are you? I'm fine. I slept at Ron's last night and the night before that, and now I'm back in the Muggle world. I'm just writing to wish you a Happy Birthday and send this present. I hope you like it...it's a good book. I've read it maybe three times, and it's still in mint condition. I don't need it anymore, so you can have it. I'm sorry if I'm writing this a bit rushed, but I have a haircut scheduled and I need to leave for that in a few minutes, then we're going to my grandmother's and sleeping over. I'll write again. Have a good holiday and don't anger the Dursleys too much. We might not see you next year. (Really shouldn't be joking about that...)
Wish you could have been here with me and Ron,
Hermione
P.S. Read chapter 7...you'll find something of interest in there.
July 30, 1997
Wotcher, Harry! Tonks here to wish you a Happy Birthday! Oh, and Remus too. He's a tad too lazy to write his own letter, so we're writing one together. We bought this gift for you together as well, each paid for half the price of the gift and to get it engraved. Hope you can use it soon! See you when I see you!
Tonks and Lupin
P.S. I wrote Dumbledore yesterday and applied for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don't think he'll mind me teaching. I might even be able to stick around. I don't think I'm a Death Eater, a fraud author, a werewolf, an imposter, or an evil fat woman, so it's probably a possibility. I didn't think of it last year, or I would have applied. I heard that Snape took over the classes that year. I send many condolences and antidotes to cure your damaged soul. Anyway, I hope to see you next year!
July 30, 1997
Dear Harry,
How have you been? I've missed you so much. I can't believe that I have to wait a month to see you again!
Happy Birthday! I sent you this book..I didn't know what else to get you, I'm very ashamed to say. It's a little fluffy, but some are actually cute. I skimmed it two nights ago and bookmarked the ones that I thought that you would like. Hope you're getting along allright.
Much love,
Anna-Nicole
July 29, 1997
Oy, Harry!
Happee Birthdae. I been into wud carving latly an i deciderd desidid desidded decided to carv sumthing for yoo. It's yoo! Do yeh lick it? I hop so. I reckon the owl had a hard time carrien it, thow. Aneeway. I'll be seein yoo necks year.
Lov,
Hagrid
July 29, 1997
Dear Harry,
I'm sorry I couldn't get you a present. I spent all of my allowance on a new broomstick before I remembered your birthday. After all, I did graduate and everything and I do deserve a little treat. I hope I can make it up to you somehow. I'm really sorry.
I won't be seeing you much now that I'm out of Hogwarts. Maybe we can get together sometime this summer or next summer...maybe I can come to Hogsmeade during one of your Hogsmeade weekends. We could meet at Madame Puddifoot's again. I'd like that very much. Don't hesitate to bring Ron, Hermione, or Anna-Nicole with you, they're welcome. You have to write me though so I know when you'll be going.
Please send a response, I haven't gotten much mail lately...Cedric's have obviously stopped coming - he'd write me letters all the time. Anyway...Happy Birthday and I hope you have a good holiday!
Love,
Cho Chang
July 30, 1997
Dear Harry,
I miss you very much. I enclosed a poem. Happy Birthday.
Love,
Luna
July 30, 1997
Harry -
Happy Birthday, Harry. I hope you are doing okay at the Dursleys and everything. I sent you something to drive your aunt and uncle nuts...and also for you to eat. I hope you have a good birthday
-Neville
Harry,
You won't be needing this because you'll be getting a haircut from your aunt real soon.
Vern
Harry,
This may be of use to you when you get a house of your own. Hopefully this is in the near future.
Aunt Petunia
That thing that lives in my house -
I won't be needing this anymore, since mum and dad got me a Playstation 2. You can have this...and I'm giving you 'Captain Young's Great Adventure' since I haven't played it since I was five. Too bad you don't have a television to plug it into.
Dudley
-
August 1, 1997
The Dursleys sat at the dining room table in the morning at 9:00 eating breakfast. Harry had stayed up late the night before reading the beginning of Hermione's book and getting through the first 100 love poems out of the 1000 in the book that Anna-Nicole sent. She had been right, most of the poems were good, some pretty gushy though. Some were so gushy and stupid that Harry laughed out loud, or until his eyes watered. Interrupting Harry's laughing at a poem called: 'The First Time I Saw You' and the murmur of conversation downstairs in the living room at breakfast the morning after, a low rumbling sound came from the end of the street that got louder and louder as it got closer to Number Four. Uncle Vernon's mustache twitched as he looked in the direction of the living room window, scowling.
"What is that infernal racket" he growled, getting to his feet and going to the window. "Trucks! Huge Trucks! Two! Three!" Petunia joined her husband and moved the curtains so she could see as well.
"Moving vans," said Aunt Petunia. "The Smiths must be moving out."
"And the people didn't even have the decency to tell us" said Vernon with a huff. Dudley stood this time and went to the window. Petunia moved the curtain again so all three could see. The movers took everything out of the house and put it all into the three trucks parked outside the house. Harry ignored the sounds from across the street and went on reading. After a few hours, the trucks left. In that span of time, the Dursleys had been relaxing in the living room. After another hour, however, another rumbling came from down the street. Uncle Vernon lowered his paper and looked out the window. Two more moving vans pulled up to the house across from Number Four and Vernon frowned again. "I have had enough with these trucks."
Harry put his book down and went to his window. He thrust it open and stuck his head outside. It wasn't real exciting to him - new neighbors. On Privet Drive, if some snobby and stuck up family moved out, that would only make room for another snobby and stuck up family to move in. He pulled his head back into his room and went downstairs. His aunt, uncle, and cousin had resumed their spots at the window and were watching the trucks filled with the new neighbors' belongings empty, the movers carrying the things into the house.
"That carpet would look good in our bedroom, Vernon." said Petunia. She looked at her husband, who was squinting to get a better look at the carpet's design. "Wouldn't it?" She looked back out the window.
"If it was a lighter purple it would," Uncle Vernon finally returned.
"What's that statue of, mum?"
"Where, Diddley?" Dudley pointed out the window at a large pale statue. Petunia gasped and slapped her hand over her son's eyes.
"Is breakfast over?" Harry asked, jumping in. Petunia looked at him, hand still covering Dudley's face. He turned his head too, and Petunia put her hand back to her side.
"Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence." snarled Vernon angrily. Petunia peered back out the window, uninterested in Harry's entrance, and began poking her head every which way to get a proper view of a large sofa that was being lifted out of one of the trucks.
"You're welcome," said Harry cooly. "Now, are we having breakfast or not?"
"Breakfast has been over, boy. You can't have any anyway because your rudeness has earned you confination to your bedroom until further notice," said Vernon.
"Why, so you can nose around the neighbors' things?" snapped Harry. "And it's confinement. Confination is not a word." he added. Uncle Vernon turned his usual shade of purple.
"One more crack like that and you'll be sure that you don't want to be alive."
"Oh, I'm already very sure of that." said Harry. He turned on his heel and ascended the stairs to his small bedroom, then sat at his desk and leafed through his birthday letters. He took out Tonks's and Lupin's, smiled a bit, picked up a quill and opened his inkwell, then took out some parchment and flattened it on his desk.
August 1, 1997
Dear Professor Lupin,
From you and Tonks? What, are you living together or something?
Thanks so much for your present...I can't wait to use it, thank you!
I hope that you do get the DADA job at Hogwarts, Tonks. (I'm sending this to the same place assuming that you and Tonks are in the same place) I'd love to see you again and to see you teach. That'd be quite interesting.
We got new nei
Harry stopped writing when he heard a crash and a yelp. Then, someone, a woman, began yelling at the top of her voice. He got up from his chair and walked to the window - he had left it open the last time he had opened it - just a few minutes ago.
" - YOU PEOPLE ARE DIRTY ROTTEN SCUM THAT DON'T DESERVE TO BE CALLED 'MOVERS!' WHY, IF I COULD, I'D MOVE MY OWN THINGS, BUT CONSIDERING MY AGE AND STATE, I CANNOT! THAT WAS MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER IN THAT URN AND IF I WERE YOU, I'D SWEEP IT UP! NO! DON'T EVEN! YOU'LL SOMEHOW SHATTER THE ASHES TOO, NO DOUBT! HEY! WATCH IT WITH THAT ROCKER!" Harry climbed out of the window and latched onto the wooden trellis lining that side of the house.
"Frankly, I think you're off your rocker, ma'am," replied the mover in monotone.
"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I think you're full of rubbish!" snapped the woman right back.
"The only rubbish I'm full of is yours," said the mover, now impatiently. "If you'd like to move it, be my guest. If not, keep shushed."
"Oh, don't you tell me to shush!" Harry climbed down the trellis and made his way towards the woman and the mover, who had the name 'Joe' embroidered into his light blue shirt. "I'll fire you if I have to!" The mover, frowning, gave up and walked back to one of the large trucks and fastened his hands on a small end table.
"Hi," called Harry, now crossing the street. He waved, and the woman looked at him.
"Why, hello there. You live across the street, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry for all of the racket...it's just..." the woman rolled her eyes and let out a breath quickly. She looked down at the ashes of her grandmother's mother on the sidewalk and her lips flattened into a line, much in the fashion of Professor McGonagall. "These movers, I don't know," she finally said. She looked back up at Harry, coming out of her daze.
"Anyway, you have a name, don't you?"
"Harry."
"Hello, Harry. I'm Helga Greenfield."
"Hello, Mrs. Greenfield." She looked at the top of Harry's head. She was undoubtedly looking at his hair, that hadn't been brushed in nearly a week now. She unexpectedly smiled and looked back down at his face.
"I like your hair," she said"It's...free. Most people keep every hair in line...every solitary strand pulled back into a bun or ponytail...or curled perfectly. Except of course...my hair (she fluffed it a bit) is naturally curly. I can't help but to keep it perfect. Anyway, would you like to come inside." Harry looked behind him at Number Four. The window was dark, no one behind it. The family had obviously lost interest in the new neighbors and decided to do something else. When he did this, he also made sure his scar was covered, not feeling up to making up a story about how he got it if the subject came up.
"You live with the Dursleys?" Harry nodded. "Are they your parents?"
"No, I'm actually their nephew."
"Really." He nodded again.
"Are you visiting for the summer?"
"Er...sort of."
"Sort of?"
"Well I live with them during the summer and go to school from the first of September to June."
"And your parents? Surely they see you some time inbetween."
"I don't er...have parents. They died in a car crash a year after I was born."
"Don't have any pa - " Mrs. Greenfield screwed up her face and put her hand on Harry's back. "Hang on...come on, Harry, let's go inside." She began up the walk, Harry at her heels, hurrying along trying to keep in Mrs. Greenfield's pace. The foyer was very empty, save for a few things, including a mirror and half of a table standing on three legs underneath a hanging clock with long bells coming down from it. There was also a tilted picture, carelessly hung on the wall. The rugs were green, like the Dursleys' rugs in their foyer, except for with a different design. There were flowers and leaves scattered on this design giving it a more natural feel. The foyer in this house was also a lot bigger than the tiny one in the Dursleys' house. Evidently, even though the houses on Privet Drive looked exactly the same on the outside, they weren't entirely the same on the inside. When they passed the steps, Mrs. Greenfield halted, then took a few steps back. She looked up the flight of stairs, where loud music and shouting was coming from.
"Could you wait down here a minute? Unless you want to come...I just want to make sure my children aren't mutilating each other." This phrase certainly put a bad taste in Harry's mouth...he wasn't sure if that was quite the description of fighting children he expected. The short woman made her way upstairs, Harry again following. She went to the room with the door that the music and shouting was behind. (A/N: Do you have any idea how long it took me to make that sentence right? (glances at clock...it says: 12:30 AM) Hm...) She opened the door, revealing clearly a girl's room, the resident of the room's possessions scattered all over the floor. There were posters plastered on the walls, suitcases and bags littering the floor and on the bed of which a small boy was happily jumping on. By the side of the bed, with her hands on her hips, was a sixteen year old girl; she looked none too pleased with her little brother's current actions. The music, that had gotten louder when Mrs. Greenfield opened the door, changed to a different song with a loud, deep, continuous rock beat. A synthesized melody followed, then some drums, and so on.
"Mum, will you tell him to leave me alone?" the girl shouted over the music.
"Jeffrey! Get out of your sister's room! Go on, you have your own to put in order" Mrs. Greenfield lifted her son off of the discombobulated bed and set him on the floor. At this, he ran out of the room, yelling. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Ten year olds..."
"Stupid brother. He's such a git, mum - why haven't you dumped him on the street yet?"
"Alice, what a rotten thing to say!"
"It's true. Ugh, I hate my life." Alice threw a disgruntled look at her bed and did a double-take at Harry.
"Who's this?"
"This is Harry, Alice."
"Wait...Mum, is that ? "
"Yes." Alice ripped a poster off of her wall and Harry unmistakably saw a half of his glasses, one of his green eyes glinting behind it, vanish behind her back with the poster. She blushed and risked a careful smile.
"Sorry..." Harry started slowly, "But are you...er...wizards?"
"Yes, Harry, we are," said Mrs. Greenfield smiling a bit.
"But you look so like Muggles - I mean, I don't intend that to be an insult - but...the people in your posters aren't moving..."
"Mum's a Muggle-born," said Alice before her mother could speak. "She knows what everything's supposed to look like. Dad's a wizard so he didn't when he met mum, but she taught him alright."
"Where is Mr. Greenfield?" Inquired Harry, looking at Mrs. Greenfield.
"He's probably out back installing the birdbath." she responded nonchalantly.
"Er...installing?" No one gave Harry an answer to his half-question, because a mover, grunting, carried a naked statue of a woman's body (which was headless), up the stairs. He stood it properly on the floor and caught his breath, leaning on it.
"Where do you want this?" he finally gasped.
"Oh, bring it back down to the living room, that'll be fine." The mover named Greg gave a moan of agony and heaved the statue back down the long flight of stairs.
"So, if you're wizards," said Harry, somewhat ignoring the mover's interference with the conversation, "Why did you move here?"
"Well, you see," said Mrs. Greenfield, "My husband, Allen, just got a job at the Ministry in the 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.'"
"Oh, then he knows Arthur Weasley?" said Harry.
"Is he the other one that works in the office?"
"Yeah...he and some Perkins bloke. Do you know the Weasley family?"
"Not personally...but I hear they're not exactly an asset to the wizarding community." Harry sighed. He had told people numerous times that the Weasleys were a good family. So what if Arthur liked muggles and he was a pure blood? That's no reason for someone not to like the lot.
"One of their sons is my best friend. They're great to me and whoever you heard that from ought to actually meet them before they judge them. Anyone who gets friendly with them stays friendly. They're really nice people."
"Well I'm glad my husband's not working with a nutter," said Mrs. Greenfield. Jeffrey ran into the room and faced Harry.
"Can I see your scar?" he asked. Harry moved his bangs to reveal his old lightning bolt shaped scar, more easy to with the fact that the new family wasn't a bunch of Muggles with funny ideas about magic folk in their heads.
"Cool!" Jeffrey exclaimed as Harry covered it back up.
"Come on downstairs, Harry. Jeffrey - room - now. If I come upstairs and you're not unpacked, there'll be some serious consequences." Jeffrey nodded and sent a farewell to Harry, then left the room.
"Alice, turn down your music a bit dear and finish unpacking as well."
"Yes, mum. Bye, Harry," she added, smiling.
"Goodbye," said Harry. Mrs. Greenfield guided him out of the bedroom and down the stairs into the living room where they sat on an overstuffed couch covered in plastic.
"You know, Alice has a real liking for you," said Mrs. Greenfield"Are you at all dating?"
"Er...well, I'm not dating, per se...but I have a girlfriend...I...I think..."
"Oh...alright, that's quite alright..." Harry sensed that she was a bit excited to change the subject, so he took the liberty of doing that himself.
"Does she attend Hogwarts?" he asked.
"Yes, she's in Hufflepuff house."
"Does Jeffrey?"
"No, I'm afraid he's non-magic," responded Mrs. Greenfield, disappointment in her voice.
"Oh...i see."
"So. Harry. Are the Dursleys treating you well?"
"It...um...depends on your definition of the word," said Harry, smirking a bit. "Considering I snuck out my window and climbed down the trellis on the side of the house to escape the bedroom that I've been confined to, I don't think that's too wonderful. They probably think I'm still in my bedroom, the big dolts."
"What did you do?"
"I mouthed off to my uncle and he put me upstairs. It's not unusual. But, they're really nice, don't get me wrong - they just don't like me." Harry didn't know why he had said that after he did so. He wanted everyone to hate his aunt, uncle, and cousin. They were awful, rotten people.
"Why not?"
"Well...my Aunt Petunia was a bit frightened of my mother because of the fact that she was a witch. I guess the family's just frightened of the entire scene, actually. Whenever I do anything of the sort, they scream and ground me."
"I see...well, I just thought that they'd be at least a bit sympathetic towards you since...you know."
"I'm toying with the fact of my aunt being a squib...but the more I really think about it, it doesn't sound possible. It might be: she knows a lot about the wizarding world. Er...do you read the Daily Prophet?"
"I did. But then they started printing those dreadful things about you and Dumbledore. That was the last straw for me," said Mrs. Greenfield rolling her eyes a bit. "I cancelled my subscription after that."
"So, you believe me, then?" asked Harry brightly.
"Of course I believe you. If I didn't believe you, you could have knocked me over the head with an ox and I wouldn't mind. At least I wouldn't remember not believing you and you could convince me to." Harry thought about that for a moment, not quite processing it right.
"POTTER!" Uncle Vernon's voice was as clear as a bell even if it was coming from across the street. Harry was somewhat glad that the conversation had been interrupted: he had been receiving images in his mind of lifting an ox by its leg and swinging it into Mrs. Greenfield's face.
"Er...I have to go. Thank you so much for everything. I'll see you later, I guess." Harry stood and made for the door. Mrs. Greenfield followed.
"You're very, very welcome, Harry. Thanks for stopping by - and don't get in too much trouble," she said, shaking her pointer finger in front of his face.
"Oh, I'm sure I will," said Harry. he opened the door and stepped onto the porch. He saw his uncle in the window of his room. He had obviously come in to check on Harry, and realized where he had gone.
"YOU GET OVER HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"
"Bye, thank you." Harry jumped off the stoop, jogged across the street, and stepped into the house. Uncle Vernon met him in the foyer and pulled him by the collar, in plain view of Helga Greenfield, into the kitchen.
"Here he is, Petunia. He climbed out of the window and went to those people's house." Harry grabbed onto his uncle's enormous wrist and thrust him off of him.
"They're nice people! If you don't like them because they got their stuff to their new house using moving trucks, you're completely insane!" retorted Harry. Another grumble came from outside before Vernon could respond.
"THOSE THINGS BREAKING THE SILENCE EVERY 10 SECONDS!"
"It's been longer than that," said Harry. "What's wrong with your wristwatch?"
"Get upstairs, Harry," said Petunia very firmly, "and stay there until dinner." Harry looked at his aunt, the thought that she was possibly a squib fresh in his mind, nodded, and left for his bedroom. When he got there, remembering his unfinished letter, he shut the door and sat at his desk. He picked up his quill, read it through once, and continued where he left off.
ghbors. I snuck out of my window today to go check them out and they're real nice. I haven't met the father yet: he was outside "installing" the birdbath when I was over there, but next time I talk to them, I'll probably get a chance to meet him. He's supposedly working at the Ministry in Mr. Weasley's office. I hope they get along; Mrs. Greenfield mentioned something about the Weasleys being unliked by the wizarding community.
I'm off to write more thank you responses, so I'll write you later, after you write me back.
Best wishes,
Harry
Harry set the letter on a blank part of his desk and picked up another piece of parchment.
August 1, 1997
Dear Hermione
Thank you...
He wrote responses until he ran out of people to write to and found a few things to do up until dinner. First, he found a proper place for Hagrid's statue, behind the framed picture of his parents and next to the lamp on his bedside table. Then, he read some more poems, bounced a ball off of his wardrobe until his uncle yelled at him from downstairs, and laid on his bed staring at the ceiling and thinking for the rest of the time after that until he was called downstairs for supper. The meal was slow and boring. Aunt Petunia had made a macaroni salad, a sad bowl of lettuce, and some ham. Harry didn't speak a word, but kept his head down and ate silently. Dudley was going on about something that he did with his friends the other night. No doubt it was a lie - Harry had specifically overheard Dudley on the phone the night before the said day, in his bedroom chatting with a friend in a low voice about graffitti-ing and dismembering the playground, but none the less, he said not a word.
-
After dinner, Harry resumed doing nothing in his bedroom - this nothing involved practicing Summoning Charms (he had not been practicing them much since the Triwizard Tournament and he was, indeed getting a bit rusty, as he had given himself a nosebleed and a black eye.) and finishing Anna-Nicole's book. He once glanced at Aunt Petunia's book, but didn't look through it, as it was pointless to. When he got bored, he pulled on his pajamas, got settled in bed, and closed his eyes. He was sitting on his bed now...looking out a window. This window was in a room he had never seen before...a girl's room...but it wasn't a witch...this was a muggle girl. When he looked down, he saw that the bed he was sitting on wasn't his bed at all. He looked back out the window into the darkness and heard a low swooshing sound...it sounded like a growl...and angry animal growling...then out of nowhere -
"Harry...Harry..." The room vanished and he was looking at the insides of his eyelids.
"Harry..." It was his cousin's voice...but what would he want with Harry at - Harry opened his eyes at looked at his watch - 1:00 AM? He rolled over to look at his big pudgy cousin Dudley.
"What do you want?" he asked, trying to sound threatening, but was too tired to manage it.
"Do you want to er...sneak snacks?" Dudley asked unexpectedly.
"Sorry?" Harry thought he had heard Dudley wrong...his cousin hated him.
"Do you want to go downstairs and get snacks?"
"Why do you want me to?"
"I'm hungry and I don't want to go downstairs by myself."
"Afraid of the dark, are we?"
"No," Dudley said indignantly.
"Allright, Ickle Duddykins." Harry got out of bed and stood up. The two passed through the door and started quietly walking down the hall.
"Myeh...grumble...toads are my " Uncle Vernon let out a large snore after that from the next room. Harry and Dudley both concealed laughter and then, noticing what they were doing, stopped. Dudley cleared his throat and they proceeded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and began looking through a selection of chips and crackers and other junk food. Harry went over to him, and Dudley handed him a bag of Cheese Doodles.
"Hold that." he said, looking for more chips. Harry looked around the kitchen...it was horribly dark, only the moonlight coming through the window over the sink was lighting the kitchen. That's not the window, he thought automatically, the one in my dream...that window was in a muggle girl's room...maybe it was in Alice Greenfield's?
"Come on, grab it!" said Dudley, and Harry turned his head to look at him. He was holding out a bag of tortilla chips, and when Harry took it, it was followed by a jar of unopened salsa. There was a breeze coming through the window and Harry looked at it. It was dark outside as well...almost as dark as the window in his dream. He winced...his scar had just prickled. He shifted the snacks to one arm and lifted his other arm to rub his forehead with that hand.
"Ow!" Harry grabbed a bag of pretzels and his scar again seared with pain. It stopped, then began again, but not ceasing. He dropped the bags of food and the salsa and covered his forehead with both hands. Dudley looked at his cousin because of hearing the splatter of the salsa and the breaking of its glass jar. Harry dropped to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Something had happened. Voldemort had just done something...something horrible. He might have killed someone. Images began flashing through Harry's mind and when Dudley spoke, it seemed like it was from miles away. "Harry? Harry what are you doing?"
Harry watched as a scene played through in his head...Voldemort was staring at someone over his wand. The person was wearing a nightcap and striped pajamas. He had a short gray beard and seemed to be whimpering and protesting to Voldemort not to kill him. But he did...and a flash of green light filled the room and the man in the nightcap flopped over, his body landing on the floor of his bedroom with a soft thud. Harry felt as though his head was about to split in half. He began screaming, as loud as his vocal cords would allow, as if it would help the pain. The green light vanished, and Harry was in another person's house...but Voldemort was not there...instead four Death Eaters. Seconds later, Voldemort arrived and took his place at the head of the small congregation. They were in front of a man, also in a nightcap, with red hair.
"You've done enough, Arthur," Voldemort snarled at the man.
"What? What have I done?" the man said, trying not to sound scared.
"Oh, you know. And for you to be killed personally should be an honor. Don't be afraid."
"No...no, please don't - MOLLY" Two teenagers, both with red hair, dashed down the stairs and flew into their father. The green beam of light hit the wall, making a rather large dent there.
"STOP HIM!" The Death Eaters sprang into action...one was running to the pile of the red-heads, his white-blonde hair protruding a bit from the sides of his hood where his face was. The man named Arthur got himself up and scrambled up the stairs. The three others went after the look-alike boys, who Apparated, vanishing into thin air. Voldemort ordered the four upstairs and they all went up.
"Molly...Molly, wake up..." a woman with red hair opened her eyes and looked at her husband, who turned his head to look at the Death Eaters and Voldemort coming through the door of the room.
"Apparate somewhere...anywhere...Fred and George already left, I'll send an owl to them later to meet us somewhere...go on, I'll get the kids" Arthur said in a hushed voice. With a loud crack, Molly vanished. Arthur turned to Voldemort and without thinking, took out his wand and stunned the four Death Eaters with him.
"Ah...Arthur Weasley. Going to get the children, are you? Think you can wipe out all of my little friends? I think not." Voldemort rolled up a sleeve and touched his finger to a black skull tattooed into his arm. Arthur decided to do the unthinkable and ran past Voldemort out the door.
"What is it, Dudley?"
"Harry's dying, mum!"
"Where?" asked Uncle Vernon, trying not to sound excited. Harry became dizzy as the Weasleys' house and Voldemort evaporated, but his scar still burnt terribly. He opened his eyes and looked at his uncle, aunt, and cousin standing there in the kitchen near him amongst a small heap of junk food and spilled salsa.
"They're going to die - he's going to kill them! I have to get to them, I have to help!"
"What are you talking about, boy?" asked Vernon menacingly.
"He's going to kill them too! Just like my parents! I have to save them, I have to! He's not going to be able to get Ron and Ginny out of the house - they're too young to apparate! I need to get there!"
"Who's going to kill who" asked Aunt Petunia. Harry swallowed and tried to catch his breath, realizing all he had spluttered, and who he had spluttered it to.
"You wouldn't care," he said, his voice quivering, "It's only a few of my freak friends." he got up, and sprinted up to his bedroom. He didn't know what to do. What if something did happen? Harry was on Privet Drive in the Muggle world with no way to contact anyone in the Wizarding World so quickly. He remembered the last time something had happened to Mr. Weasley and he could get the news to people quickly because he was in Hogwarts with Dumbledore. But this time, he couldn't do anything to help, and he was the only one who knew.
-
Harry didn't sleep a lot that night - save for a few minutes he got in. He didn't know what to do...by the time five in the morning came, he knew something had already happened and figured it was either something good or something extremely horrible. With that knowledge, he closed his eyes to try to sleep, but only images of the scene he had just witnessed appeared. Finally, he fell asleep for the rest of the night. He didn't dream, he didn't think. He might have dreamt, but it obviously wasn't worth remembering because he was too tired to care. The next morning, he was awakened by the doorbell.
A/N: I changed "that" to "who" HAPPY, LAURIE? Anyway, anyone who knows me well enough to know what my house looks like inside and out will know that there's a little snapshot of my humble abode in this chapter. REVIEWS ROCK, SO WHY DON'T YOU REVIEW ALREADY? I haven't had like ANY.