Chapter Two: The Letter(s)
"Dear Professor,
Sorry to bother you, but today I found out something very odd, there is a trophy in my room that can talk. That may not sound very important, I know, but it was speaking parseltongue, and you told me that Voldemort was the last remaining descendent (or was it ancestor?) of Salazar Slytherin"
At this point Harry stopped to ponder, does that mean this trophy was descended from Slytherin? No, Dumbledore wouldn't have lied to him about something this important-- as this was, in fact, the key to books 6 and 7. But you need not know that. Harry continued to write,
"I don't reckon this trophy could be related to Slytherin, as it's much too shiny."
He paused to suck the end of his quill, forgetting that it was not a sugar quill from Honeydukes. It tasted like an owl. He was suddenly reminded that, to send his letter, he needed to find Hedwig. He signed the letter and rolled it up. "Hedwig? Hedwig!" He called, quite forgetting that the Dursleys were asleep. "Accio Hedwig!" He exclaimed impatiently. (Once again failing to remember the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry) Hedwig immediately whooshed in through the window backwards. "Hey, it worked! What about... Accio a diet coke with lime!" One fwooshed up the stairs from the direction of the kitchen. "Brilliant! Hang on, I have a better idea: Accio the answer to my letter!" It flew in, as Hedwig had, moments later. "Hmm..." He was suddenly struck by an idea. "Accio book seven!" He waited eagerly, but the only thing to whoosh in was a small note on parchment: "Ha. Nice try. -JKR"
"Oh well." He hadn't thought it would work, but hey, you never know. He sat down to read Dumbledore's response to the letter he had written just moments before (and had still not sent, but I'm not about to remind him of that). It said,
"I agree that this is a very serious matter, I'll go ask my secret army of... eh, I mean, I shall discuss the matter with the rest of the Order immediately. brb."
There was a space, and the letter continued.
"I've just talked to them, and they agree-- be careful what you say around that trophy! Since it is obviously neither you nor Voldemort, and no one else can speak parseltongue, it is highly possible that the trophy in question may be being controlled by Voldemort."
Harry sat back, stunned by this news. He hadn't thought of that... but now that he did, he spun around in his spinny chair and walked over to his bed, where the trophy sat innocently humming to itself.
"Are you being controlled by Voldemort?" Harry demanded. "What? NO of course not where did you hear that, it's not true I tell you just a nasty rumor, probably originated in knockturn alley or some such unreliable place." The trophy continued to chatter on to itself, but Harry was no longer listening. "That settles it then." He walked back over to his desk, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment. This was turning out to be a very interesting birthday after all.