Harry Potter - Chapter 1 - Books and Locked Doors
Come on, you idiot! He ranted. You looked everywhere for the damn book, and here it is.
Harry Potter was currently studying a heavy, leather-bound book, titled 'The World of Animagi', by Albert P. Laurence. He had managed to sneak Hedwig past the Order guards, even after Dumbledore, (whom he was still mad at,) had forbidden owl post from his best friends. Harry was secretly glad that Dumbledore's order had been so easily bypassable, and was planning on ordering more books from Flourish and Blotts to keep himself entertained during the usually tortuous summer holidays. Maybe being in Slytherin wouldn't have been so bad after all…
When Harry found the introduction had been tedious and boring to read he wasn't too thrilled, but when it came to the even more complicated explanation of the shape shifting theory, Harry was left clueless and infuriated. He would have given just about anything for his best friend, Hermione, to have been there to translate what seemed to be a foreign language into something Ron (his other best friend) and himself could've understood within a relatively short period of time.
But, two hours later, Harry was just about ready to give up. A minute after sighing dejectedly, he slammed the book shut, admitting defeat, and muttered about not being able to purchase portable translators for "unknown languages."
I give up. Harry though, rather grumpy. It is too much reading anyways, and I need a break.
Sitting up, the black haired boy stretched himself, getting rid of all traces of stiffness and pins and needles. He then slid off his bed, stood up, and looked at the beautiful summery sky outside his window, wishing for his owl Hedwig, to come back soon from wherever she had gone off to hunt. Boredom seemed to be an almost permanent thing to suffer from, in the Dursley household, even when they themselves weren't there.
I have no idea how my dad and… S- Harry's chest contracted with sorrow. I have no idea how they all did it. It takes so much reading to actually get the theory let alone trying out the real thing. How on earth could they have managed to become Animagi in such a short time?
Images of Harry's defiant godfather flashed through his mind. Lestrange shooting a stunning curse at him… The veil…
His eyes prickled fiercely, but he wouldn't allow himself to cry. A bitter smile appeared on his lips. As much as he wanted to see him again, he would have to wait, until the "someday," when he died, came. Harry was torn between hoping for himself to die soon, rather than staying alive to face Voldemort and the rest of the world.
Harry turned away from the window, and tiredly took a few useless steps towards the barred door. The Dursleys had locked it, not wanting Harry to "Blow up the house." Or to "Wreak havoc in the kitchen."
Sighing miserably, he walked back to his small bed, and sat down heavily onto the faded bedcovers, making the used springs groan. Being locked up in a room with virtually nothing but a boring book was not his thing. Quidditch was.
Memories resurfaced… His first time on a broomstick… Joyful Quidditch matches… Winning the Quidditch cup… His Nimbus 2000… Beating Draco Malfoy… The look on his face! Harry smiled, remembering the incident.
It was way worth it.
Flying on his faithful Firebolt... The one… His smile disappearing faster than a speeding portkey, at his sudden remembrance.
The one Sirius gave me.
Harry's back sagged against the bare beige wall, as joy fled from him. By now, his smile and happy mood was completely gone, and he felt just as cold and empty as what the feared dementors of Azkaban left him after an encounter or two.
He's gone, Harry. The words echoed in Harry's head. Gone.
Then I have to become an animagus. Harry thought, gathering his withering determination. For Sirius and my dad… For Padfoot and Prongs. They would've wanted me to get through this. Besides, it does me no good to mooch around like a sullen three-year-old.
Sitting back up against the wall, Harry grabbed the book about Animagi that lay next to him, and read on, determined to succeed.
Hmm… I think I've got it. Harry thought, nearly a whole other hour after his silent vow. Now, all I need to do is pick an animal. He sighed. Nope, definitely not easy.
Sure, the dumb book had suggested picking something to "match your personality," but his feelings and emotions seemed to be so flighty that he couldn't catch onto them for too long. It was almost as if they fluttered around him like a rare type of butterfly, stubbornly refusing to be caught, and he chased after with a ripped net. It seemed pretty hopeless if he couldn't gather himself for long. Being depressed didn't help in the least.
All too lame. He sighed again.
The door slammed downstairs, a good indication that the Dursleys were back home. Harry's face took on a sour expression as he got up from the old, lumpy mattress, and kneeling, pried a loose floorboard up. He slipped the blue and gold hardback covered book in, and replaced the board again, when…
"BOY! Get down here now and help unload the car." His Uncle shouted, disturbing the quiet atmosphere that had reigned in the house.
Harry resisted the urge to shout back downstairs, sarcastically reminding beefy Uncle Vernon that his bedroom door had been locked since they left, and that he simply couldn't get out of his room.
And, while I'm at it, a little voice in Harry's head piped up, I may as well tell him that I need to go to the loo.
"Boy. Get downstairs now!"
It seemed that Harry's silent debate with himself had taken too long for Uncle Vernon's liking. Harry snorted, wondering if there really was a brain up in his Uncle's head.
Probably not, seeing as there's all that fat…
Trying not to laugh, Harry shouted back down, "My bedroom's locked, Uncle Vernon. It'd be handy if you could come let me out."
The stairs creaked, one by one, as Harry's uncle stomped up to the second floor, and over to his bedroom door. The three locks on the door clicked, the door handle turned, and the door swung open, revealing the rest of the all too clean house.
"Hurry up, boy."
Harry sighed, and headed downstairs, to "help" unload the car, which was pure slavery in his opinion. On the positive side, Uncle Vernon didn't dare go too far as to overloading Harry with work, because of Mad Eye's warning at King's Cross.
More like Mad Eye's threatening. Harry mused. I owe him one for that.
Opening and closing the front door behind him, Harry headed towards the car, only to be shoved into the doorframe by a smirking Dudley. Nowadays, he seemed to be taking every chance to taunt, annoy, and harass Harry, despite whatever Uncle Vernon might've mentioned about Professor Lupin or Moody.
Aunt Petunia, however, wasn't so bad. She seemed to be content with generally ignoring the boy, and giving him his customary chores, although not going out of her way to make it extra hard for him. That, Harry didn't mind at all. Although fewer chores would've been pleasurable, he didn't think that she would suddenly listen to his every wish.
He picked up heavy grocery bags, and made his way towards the kitchen. He supposed he would have to put everything into the fridge as well.
Doesn't matter much. Hermione probably has to help her parents with the shopping too. And as for Ron, his mother probably uses magic. Come to think of it… Do wizards even go shopping?
Harry smiled at the thought. Wizards and witches probably used magic to whip up some food or something of the sort. It would've been a funny sight to see his best friend dragging shopping bags into his kitchen. Or to see floating Sainsbury bags zoom into the Burrow's smallish kitchen… The Weasley twins would've probably taken care of that, and might have even made the poor grocery bags race against each other!
Shaking himself out of his bizarre thoughts, he tidied the food into the right places in the refrigerator and the cupboards, making sure that it was neat. He didn't want to give his Aunt an excuse to make him start all over again, however nice she had become this summer.
Once he was done with the groceries, Harry trudged quietly up to his room, careful not to distract his Aunt, and Uncle, who were lounging in the living room, watching the evening news. Slowing his pace, Harry leaned against the wall, listening to the last few words of the newsman.
"… Employees are currently complaining about low wages…"
Nope, nothing of interest. No unexplained killings or murders, so no Voldemort. Harry turned, ingored the posh-sounding news reporter, and walked up the carpeted stairs, minding the really squeaky steps. He really would've hated to give the Dursleys an excuse to rag on him again, especially since Sirius was gone. He sighed unhappily, and closed his bedroom door click shut behind him. He really missed his scruffy godfather, and his black furred disguise, "Padfoot," and what little the two had done together. The family he had barely known
Reaching down, Harry pried the loose floorboards open, and rummaged around, pulling out a school textbook to read. As much as he hated potions, he wasn't about to let Snape ridicule him for another entire school year. Sitting back against the wall, Harry turned another page, and started reading, getting lost in the surprisingly interesting potions text.
Hours passed quickly, and before Harry knew it, his Aunt Petunia was screeching for him to 'come downstairs and make dinner.'
That night, a tired Harry Potter changed into his pyjamas, and sat on his bed, pulling out his book on Animagi. An hour or so of reading passed, before he turned to look out of the smallish, dirty bedroom window at the moon shining in the dark sky.
Nearly full... I hope that Moony will be okay.
Flipping over to the next page of the Animagi book, Harry noticed that it was the start of a new section. It read:
The animal within: How to find it.
Shifting slightly to ease a numb foot, Harry refocused his attention to the book, and read on about the many different meditation techniques. Some used potions, and others not. Focussing on the section about the meditation styles with the least magic and potions involved, Harry started memorizing what to do.
In this case, the reader had to find his mental "center," and, as far as Harry understood, it meant that he had to sift through his memories and thoughts, until he came across the middle of his being, with his magic, talents, and essentially, what made him... well, him.
Oh, gee. Won't that be easy peasy for me. With Voldemort and the Tri-Wizard Cup to sort through, I daresay that it will take a while.
Resting his head against the white bedroom wall, Harry relaxed as much as he could, not thinking of anything in general, gradually slowing his breathing down, muscles un-tensing. Minutes passed, as he forgot to worry about his itches and discomforts, a feeling of peacefulness welling up and flooding him. Inwardly, the black haired boy smiled, as he finally understood what Snape had meant by "clearing your mind."
Vague memories surfaced briefly, but he ignored them, pushing them away and travelling deeper into himself. An eternity seemed to pass, but also a second, until the boy came across a peaceful emptiness. It might have been his magic, but he wasn't sure, the thought dissipating as soon as his consciousness was swallowed up.
He was in what appeared to be a grassy spread of tall grass and wild plants, one that bordered a large, deep green forest. He couldn't smell or hear anything, but the slowly waving tall stalks of green grass, and the sapphire blue sky dotted with fluffy, white clouds looked like paradise. If he could have, he would've stayed there, watching the vivid but peaceful scene forever. It had an unrealistic feel to it, but he did not mind. His spirit felt as if it was soaring through that pure blue sky, elation filling him, mingling softly with the peacefulness that emanated from the grassy scene. He could see everything and anything, and felt so unrestricted...
Wings flapped, softly glowing gold where the warm sun shone, before folding up again, disappearing against the animal's voluminous body. Ruffled tawny coloured fur seemed to glitter, as the wind combed through it. A large maw opened wide, displaying alarmingly long predator's teeth, but with a soft looking, wrinkled pink nose. Large, heavy muscles stretched, claws spreading out, digging into the soft ground.
The breeze tugged at the golden mane, and the image changed.
There was a fertile, green hillside, so bright and pure, that it made the dark coloured creature loping up it seem odd and foreign, compared to the scenery. A black tail with soft blue undertones was raised high, a sure sign of leadership. Dull claws scraped at the looser rocks under the swaying grass, as muscles bunched and stretched, propelling the black shadow upwards, towards the top of the green hill. A long snout open, panting happily, filled with sparkling white teeth, contrasting against the dark pelt. Briefly, the long pink tongue darted out to lick the moist, black nose, and stunning, emerald eyes that shone, were opened wide, full of the happiness of freedom.
He was, flapping, soaring above the breeze, and next, he ran through tall stalks, paws pounding the ground.
It was pure bliss.
Sainsburys - A chain of supermarkets that run throughout England and Scotland. (I am unsure about Ireland.)