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Krysta · 05-02-2008, 04:53 PM

This is an alternative book 5, which was written after reading Goblet of Fire and before Order of The Phoenix was published. Here's chapter One, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Chapter One: The Village On The Ceiling

Harry Potter never knew the ceiling was so interesting. However lying on his back on his bunk, staring at it for 3 hours was taking its’ toll on his imagination. The cracks and water stains (face it, this room hadn’t been decorated since he and Dudley were crawling) had formed into streets and buildings, the minute bugs that every-so-often crawled across Harry’s vision were tiny little people making their way through his tiny little village. It was like having his very own Marauder’s map on his bedroom ceiling. Smiling faintly to himself (he hadn’t spoken to anyone for 3 days, and hadn’t smiled for almost a week, not since the last letter from Ron.) Harry began to give his imaginary people their own imaginary names and their very own imaginary tasks and purposes for being in the village.
A particularly intelligent-looking (he thought) ant called Hermine-oh-ninny (he sniggered to himself at the memory of Viktor Krum’s pronunciation of Hermione’s name) was in the library writing an essay, whilst a nasty-looking spider called Snape was eating a dead fly in the restaurant. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a small commotion as two bickering midges called Harry and Draco were head-butting each other in the mausoleum whilst two other midges called Crabbe and Goyle were flying around in mindless circles to the amusement of a small red stone-spider called Ron.

Harry was so busy sniggering at the midge versions of Crabbe and Goyle that he didn’t notice the movement on the other side of Potterville. When he first noticed it, he had a strange feeling that if he actually averted his eyes from the still spinning midges and focused on this new movement that it would disappear. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he turned his eyes to the left, squinting to get a better view. Sure enough a new black shape was making it's way quickly down the largest crack or road in the village. At a large intersection where cracks met like a crossroads or a town-centre the little black shape stopped and looked at him. Harry blinked. Yes the little black shape was looking at him. He squinted harder and lifted his head up off the pillow to get a closer look. What in Spirit’s name was it? At first he thought it was another spider, until he realised it was missing four legs.

“How many insects have four legs?” He thought to himself before hearing Hermione’s voice in his head instructing him that all insects have six legs, and anything else isn’t an insect. Ok, so what was it? He leaned closer still and almost fell off the bed when he realised what it was. Gathering his balance and lifting himself to a kneeling position he craned his neck up closer to the little creature on the ceiling, and sure enough, on closer inspection Harry could see a tiny garden spider-sized black dog wagging it’s tail and panting whilst looking downwards (or upwards, considering it was upside down on the ceiling) at Harry. Harry was just beginning to think he was losing his mind when another black image began making it’s way along another crack towards the crossroads. Not wanting to take his eye off the dog (which was beginning to look suspiciously familiar) Harry had to drag his eyes away to examine the newcomer. To his astonishment the second creature turned out to be a black cat.

“I’ve finally lost it.” Harry said to himself. But the way the animal was moving confirmed it. The jet-black cat slunk its way down the “street” until it met up with the dog. Harry half expected the dog - who by now, Harry was suspecting was none other that Sirius himself - to chase the cat away again, but as it drew closer to Sirius (he was sure it was him now) Harry could see that the cat was almost as big as the dog. It was also sleek and moved powerfully and when it sat beside the dog a looked down at Harry with brilliant piercing yellow eyes, he could see that it was a great Panther.
He stared back in complete silence hardly daring to breathe. The two creatures held his gaze for a minute or so before looking at each other. The cat licked its paw and used it to preen its ear then as smoothly and as sleek as it had arrived the great cat gave a little bow to Harry before leaving along the same “street” as it had arrived.

Harry watched it go for a little distance before returning his attention to Sirius’ Animagi form only to find that he had disappeared, and on inspection so had the cat. He looked over to the library where Hermine-oh-ninny was still writing her essay. Snape the spider had finished his lunch and was making his way back along his web via the roof of the Town Hall and sure enough, little Harry and Draco were still beating the hell out of each other whilst Crabbe and Goyle were still spinning dizzily in front of a bemused Ron. Harry guessed some things never changed.

The next day at Breakfast Harry sat chewing a piece of toast slowly and continuously whilst the events of his sleepless night played over in his head. It was beginning to feel like the whole thing had been a dream, and when Dudley came in with a smile on his face he pushed the thoughts aside and alerted his caution.

“Good morning, cousin.” Dudley greeted him cheerfully, sitting down on a stool at the table and poured orange juice. The look on Harry’s face was as though instead of saying “good morning”, Dudley had slapped him around the face.

“Er…morning…” Harry replied suspiciously. Dudley was humming to himself happily and Harry was becoming increasingly suspicious as Dudley, quite pleasantly, asked Harry to pass the milk jug. He did so without a word watching his cousin closely as though waiting for the smile to break and a nasty joke or prank to suddenly become apparent, for Harry could think of no other reason for his nasty, spoilt brat of a cousin to be nice to him.

Just then Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia came into the kitchen together, which was highly unusual, and Harry’s attention was diverted temporarily. Uncle Vernon sat down heavily on a stool, which creaked in protest. He clapped Dudley on the back and grinned heartily whilst Petunia sang happily in the kitchen as she poured coffee for Vernon. She came to the table handing Vernon his mug and took a stool for herself, ruffling Dudley’s hair and smiling at him. They both ignored Harry. This didn’t really bother him, for two reasons: one, he was used to it, and two, the only times they paid him any attention was when they were scalding him or blaming him for everything remotely strange that happened. This morning however they didn’t seem at all interested in anything he either had or had not done, and Uncle Vernon didn’t even make his usual comments about the unkempt appearance of Harry’s tousle of dark hair. Pushing his glasses back onto his nose he discreetly watched each of the three Dursleys in turn with mounting suspicion. He was so busy watching their faces and waiting for a nasty change of mood, he hadn’t noticed that Dudley was tucking into four sausages and six rashers of bacon.

“What’s going on?!” exclaimed Harry suddenly, without thinking. Dudley smirked at him and shovelled in another mouthful.

“That fool of a so-called nurse at Duddy’s school has left and the new nurse says that a boy Dudley’s age shouldn’t be on such a strict diet, and since he’s made so much progress…” Harry hadn’t seen much of that in the past two years, but then Aunt Petunia had always been blind when it came her Duddy. “…That she says he can come off the diet plan and leave him to make his own decisions. Sigh. Our Duddy wuddy is growing up Vernon.” She beamed at Dudley as Vernon clapped him on the back again.

“Fine, strapping young man now, ay Dudley?” Dudley smiled back through the bacon rind caught in his teeth, and Harry didn’t miss the nasty grin he aimed at him when Petunia and Vernon weren’t watching. Harry gulped. This was bad, very bad. Not because he cared about his cousin’s weight but because Harry’s blackmail system was now obsolete. Harry had known full well that for the two years Dudley had been on the diet plan, he had been sneaking cakes, chocolate and crisps in through his bedroom window by means of his closest minion Piers Polkiss throwing them up to him from the garden. In the same manner as Harry himself, Dudley had been hiding them under a lose floorboard in his room until one day Harry had caught them at it. After a lot of death-threats from Dudley and fake curses from Harry, they finally came to an agreement. If Dudley and his gang left him alone, Harry would keep schtum about Dudley’s secret stash. Things were about to change, most definitely for the worse. Harry was just beginning to feel that this day couldn’t get much worse when there was a knock at the door and in walked Piers Polkiss himself with an equally evil smile on his face.

“Piers! My darling boy, come in, come in!” shrilled Aunt Petunia with delight. Piers beamed at her in his best attempt at charm.

“Ah, Polkiss. Splendid to see you ole chap. How’s your old man, boy?” Uncle Vernon greeted Piers.

“Very well, sir.” Began Piers in his best “talking to adults” voice. “Thank you very much for inviting me to go with you Mr. Dursley.”

“Not at all, not at all. It’s only fair that Dudley should have a friend with him, ay Petunia.”

“Oh yes, darling. The poor dear’s been starved and suffered long enough.” Harry noticed snidey, knowing grins exchange between Piers and Dudley, but his curiosity was heightened.

“Invited where?” he piped up, again, without thinking.

“Not that it’s any of your business, boy, but the family are going out to reward our son’s continued effort in his diet.” Barked Uncle Vernon. Harry was speechless. He gaped in utter disbelief as Piers and Dudley fought to suppress sniggers.

“But…” he began then stopped dead. He longed to tell his Aunt and Uncle the truth, eager to spill the beans on Dudley’s little stash under the floorboards. But one glance from his cousin told him that to do so would be a serious mistake, and that the rest of the summer would be extremely unpleasant for him if he did. It was going to be unpleasant enough now that the deal was undoubtedly off, and he really didn’t want to add to it further. He longed for the letter from Ron inviting him to stay. He simple couldn’t handle another six weeks with the Dursleys.

“What, boy?” began Uncle Vernon. “If you think you’re coming, you’ve got another thing coming. This is a family outing.”

“And Piers is going because Dudley wants him to.” Butted in Aunt Petunia as if to stop Harry pointing out that Piers wasn’t a family member. Truth be told, Harry couldn’t really care less. His last outing with the Dudleys hadn’t exactly gone to plan when he had accidentally (kind of) unleashed a Boa Constrictor loose on Dudley. Harry changed the subject by offering Piers some orange juice, playing nice in front of his Aunt and Uncle.

“Why? Wot you put in it?” Harry blinked at him. “Eeer, ‘e’s cursed it, I now ‘e ‘as.” Chirruped Piers. Harry stared at him.

“Harry! What have you done to Piers’ drink?” demanded Aunt Petunia in her usual high-pitched shriek.

“Nothing!” Protested Harry angrily. “I poured it straight from the jug.”

“e’s cursed the glass then!” whimpered Piers in a fashion Harry could tell was faked. “I feel all funny Mrs, Dursley.” He continued holding his hand to his forehead and making his eyes roll into the back of his head. Aunt Petunia screamed in panic, probably wondering what she was going to tell Mr. And Mrs. Polkiss if their son returned to them in this state.

“Don’t be so silly.” Harry yelled, getting really angry now.

“What have you done to him you little brute?” shouted Uncle Vernon going red in the face. Piers was beginning to sway on his stool now. Harry noticed Dudley was trying to hard not to laugh he was nearly falling off his own stool. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon however, were so panicked about Piers they didn’t notice this.

“I haven’t done anything! He’s putting it on! I haven’t even got my wand with me, I can’t perform spells without my wand, can I?” Harry practically screamed at his Uncle.

“How dare you take that tone with me you horrible little wretch. Un-do what you did right this instant, or believe me you’ll be sorry!” Uncle Vernon bellowed.

“I haven’t done anything!!” Harry screamed back. He couldn’t take much more of this. He’d walked out before, and he could do it again. He could pack everything and leave tonight on the Knight-bus.

Piers were clutching his belly in pretence of excruciating pain and began to howl. Dudley could contain himself no longer and burst out into painfully loud laughter and didn’t stop, his face turning the colour of beetroot, clutching his own belly in real pain due to the fits of laughter. Petunia screamed again.

“Oh Vernon!! Oh the brute’s got Dudley too! Oh make him stop Vernon!” she screamed again as Dudley began howling just as Piers had done, picking up on his Mother’s hysteria and exploiting it to worsen the predicament Harry was already in.

“The orange juice, Mum.” Moaned Dudley – not very convincingly, thought Harry. “It’s the orange juice, Mummy. Oh, make him stop it Mum! He poured my orange juice too! Ooooowwwwww!” he wailed again, causing Aunt Petunia to start screaming again in panic. Uncle Vernon grabbed the jug of orange juice and poured the entire contents down the sink as though it were arsenic. Then to be sure, he threw the jug into the bin as an extra precaution. By now Piers was beginning to ease out of the charade.

“Oh, I think it’s passing, Mr. Dursley. Thank you sir. Must have been the jug itself, sir, coz it started getting better when you threw it away.” Harry stared in angry disbelief at Piers. Just then Uncle Vernon rounded on his nephew.

“You!” he shouted with such vehemence Harry had never heard in his voice. “We take you in. We clothe you. We put a roof over your head, and you return us by trying to poison us.”

“No.” protested Harry again, but it was no use.

“Well Harry Potter, I shall deal with you later. I am not going to let your evil, dark magic ruin the day.” Harry glowered at him so angry he couldn’t even muster the words to protest his innocence. “Right now my family and my son’s friend are going out. You will stay here. You will stay in your room. And when I get home I shall deal with you. The only consolation is that next year you turn sixteen.” Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Piers were standing by the front door, ready to leave. Uncle Vernon joined them staring after him with mild confusion. On his way through the door he turned to face Harry one more time. The look on his face terrified him. “And then, my boy…” he growled, with a look of sickly pleasure “…you’re on your own.”

With that he slammed the door, Harry staring after him, the bewilderment remaining on his face long after the car had pulled out of the drive.

Krysta · 05-02-2008, 07:06 PM

Chapter Two: Half A Bus Ride

Everything was packed. His trunk was at the bottom of his bed with Hedwig’s cage perched on the top. Hedwig herself was sitting on Harry’s desk bobbing up and down impatiently as Harry hastily scribbled away on a piece of parchment. He stopped briefly to pour Hedwig some more water into her saucer.

“Drink up, girl. Gonna be a long night.” She bobbed again, tweaked his finger gently and bowed her head to nip at the water. He went back to his hasty scrawl. One letter lay already sealed and ready to go. The addressee was simply “The Weasley Family” and read along the lines of:

Dear Ron, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley and family,

I’m really sorry to do this to you on such short notice. It has become impossible to stay here a day longer. Dudley and his friend accused me of putting curses on them and I really don’t know where else to turn. My Aunt and Uncle are livid, and Uncle Vernon is talking of kicking me out the moment I turn sixteen. I have nowhere else to turn. You are my closest friends, and I pray you will not turn me away. I must leave now before they return. I know these are dangerous times, but I’m left with no choice. I’m leaving on the Knight bus as soon as it turns dark, and hope to be with you by the morning.

Your desperate friend,

Harry

Harry’s second letter was, of course, to his Godfather Sirius. He explained the circumstances and the events over breakfast and told him his plan to leave that night for The Burrow. He thought about adding a section about how he was aware of the dangers of wandering around at night unprotected in such dark times, and that he had no choice, but decided to leave it as it was. Finally finished, he tied the two letters to Hedwig’s leg and bid her farewell.

As the sun was beginning to set an hour later, Harry slipped his wand into his back pocket, hidden by the bottom of his sweater and put his money bag into his jeans pocket. Checking around the room one last time he dragged his trunk down the stairs and out the front door hiding it beneath one of Aunt Petunia’s vicious Rhododendron bushes, scratching himself in the process. He tucked Hedwig’s cage beside the trunk and slipped back inside. He didn’t know when the Dursleys were going to be returning home. He hadn’t even found out where it was they were going. But he waited patiently, until at 9 o’clock they still hadn’t returned and the sun had completely set. Sunset came so late mid-summer and Harry had been impatiently watching the shadows grow longer until finally the only light came from the street lamps outside. Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He tip-toed down the stairs before realising there was no one around and ran down the remaining steps and stood at the front door, breathing slowly. Finally he worked up the courage, and opened the door as quietly as he could, stepping outside into the cool summer night. He already felt better. He carefully pulled his trunk out from the bush, picked up Hedwig’s cage and made his way to the end of the drive. He searched the far-end of the cul-de-sac as if expecting the Dursleys’ car to suddenly turn the corner into the road. Nothing. All curtains were drawn in the neighbours’ houses and not one of them was twitching. He quickly but quietly made his way along the pavement and put of Privet Drive for what he hoped would be the last time he’d ever have to see it. If Uncle Vernon had meant what he said, he wouldn’t be coming back here next summer. Harry hoped so.
In that moment walking down the street, Harry began to fantasise about the future. How he would clear Sirius’s name and they could live together as his parents had intended. How he, Ron and Hermione could visit each other whenever they wanted and everything would work out perfectly. He would never have to see the Dursleys ever again.

It was just as he was thinking this that Uncle Vernon’s car suddenly turned onto the street he was walking down. At the screech of tires, Harry panicked and froze in the headlights like a frightened rabbit. It wasn’t until Uncle Vernon got heavily out of the car and shouted out his name that the panic broke. With Uncle Vernon hard (and heavy) on his heels, Harry tore down the street in the other direction, past the end of Privet Drive and kept going. He didn’t look behind him but he could tell Vernon was still there. Harry, weighed down by his trunk kept going, a sudden spurt of adrenalin and panic adding to his speed. He rounded a corner and stuck out his right thumb, just as he had done two years before. Only this time he knew what he was doing. He continued down the street, the laboured breathing and thumping footsteps of Uncle Vernon getting more and more behind. He was going to make it. He knew. But where was the bloody bus?

“Get back here…gasp…boy!” shouted Uncle Vernon from some distance behind him, sounding out of breath.

“No!” Shouted Harry over his shoulder. “I’m never going back! Ever!” at that moment the Knight Bus suddenly screeched to a halt at the curbside beside Harry. The doors swung open and a familiar voice called down to him.

“By Jove it’s Harry Potter again! Or should we call you Neville Longbottom, eh? Ooomf!” Harry knocked Ern the conductor aside as he scrambled onto the bus lugging his trunk behind him. Uncle Vernon was nearly upon them. Harry had met Ern and Stan, the driver two years ago when he had run away the first time.

“Where to, lad?” said Ern, eyeing the approaching Muggle with discomfort.

“Go! Quickly, just go! Now!” shouted Harry. Stan was all too happy to oblige, and the doors swung shut just as Uncle Vernon reached the bus. He banged on the glass with powerful fists just as the bus sped off into the night.

“Ooh dear, that’s not good. Can’ have Muggles tryin’ ter catch the knight bus, can we?”

“He’s…my Uncle” said Harry, also a little out of breath. Ern and Stan raised eyebrows and looked at Harry questioningly.

“Your Uncle? Always chase you down the street like he wants ter kill yer does he?”

“Pretty much, yes.” Said Harry, bitterly. Well, ‘Arry, where’ll it be this year?” Ern grinned at him, obviously wanting to change the subject. “Diagon Alley again?”

“No, not this time, Ern.” Harry managed a smile. “I’m on my way to The Burrow. Home of Arthur Weasley.”

“The bloke ‘oo works for the Ministry of Magic? No problem, ay Stan?”

“No, not t’all.” Replied Stan. “Got a long journey tonigh’, though, lad. Will be nearly morn’ ‘fore we gets there.”

“No problem.” Replied Harry counting out coins into Ern’s hand.

Stan and Ern began chatting among themselves and Harry made his way down the bus. He found himself a nice-looking four-poster bed next to the mid-way emergency exit and put his trunk beside it. The bed across from him was empty, giving him a little privacy. Within minutes of lying on the bed, he was deep in a safe, dreamless and free sleep.

When he awoke it took him a few moments to remember where he was. The whole evening had the mark of a dream, but as his vision and his consciousness cleared he could see that sure enough, he was lying on a four-poster bed on the Knight Bus. It was still pitch black outside and he had no idea of the time. His watch hadn’t worked for ages now, and he had given up wearing it altogether last year, relying on Ron for timekeeping. He raised himself to a sitting position and noticed that the bed opposite his was now occupied.
The newcomer was a witch dressed in jet-black robes and hair to match that cascaded just below her shoulders. She was watching him curiously. She smiled when he caught her eye and he smiled back. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed and Harry noticed that she didn’t seem to have any luggage at all. Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked around him. There were four other passengers. At the far end of the bus on a shabby sofa was an old wizard in drab green robes, fast asleep and snoring. Two beds closer a middle-aged couple lay side-by-side, also fast asleep, their trunks tucked under the bed. The other was a young-looking wizard who kept looking back from the bed closest to the front to glance at Harry as if trying, not very discreetly, to decide whether he was who he thought he was. Harry suddenly felt very conscious of his scar and turned away so he could make sure it was covered by his untidy fringe.
Just as he was doing so he felt a red-hot twinge go through it and he gasped. Although it was gone in seconds the woman opposite suddenly sat bolt upright looking at him intently. He stared back and was about to ask her what she was staring at, when the bus suddenly lurched in mid air, sending him right off the bed and onto the floor. The middle-aged couple woke up with a start and looked towards the front of the bus with bleary eyes. By now, the witch in black had pulled out her ebony wand and had leapt to her feet. There was a commotion at the front of the bus as Stan and Ern started cursing and shouting like Uncle Vernon did when another driver cut him up. The young wizard near the front was also standing and also had taken out his wand. The witch was now down on one knee helping Harry to his feet.

“On your feet, Harry.” She suddenly spoke in a smooth, dulcet tone. Harry gawped at her. He wasn’t that surprised, no his scar, of course. That’s why she knew his name. She must have seen his scar.
The bus lurched again and something banged into it. The other passengers looked around them horrified. The young wizard remained calm, watching Harry and the witch with interest. Suddenly with no warning the middle aged woman screamed in terror. Both Harry and the witch in black, who had a hand clamped firmly on Harry’s shoulder, turned to look at her. A moment later the source of her terror became apparent. Four black figures flew past the window and Harry felt the bus stop in mid-air, hovering on the spot. Two seconds later the front and rear doors exploded open in blinding flashes of light. Through each other the two portals walked two tall dark Death Eaters.

Harry shuddered at the sight of them, and wondered how far behind Voldemort might be. Could they have known he was there? But how? The tall hooded figures moved closer to where Harry stood. The witch now had both hands on his shoulders holding him still. She stood sideways, as did he, so he could watch both pairs of Death Eaters as they approached. One had singled himself out from the others and approached them. Even before the witch spoke, Harry knew who it was.

“Lucius! You took your time getting here, old chap. I expected you over an hour ago!” Harry was horrified. She was with them! He tried to pull away, but she held him tight. Lucius Malfoy took another step closer and even with his face behind a mask, Harry could tell he was glowering.

“Hand him over.” He growled. The witch laughed, which Malfoy obviously wasn’t expecting because he took a step back.

“Just like that? What’s the fun in that?” Malfoy seemed to be emanating fury in a cloud around him.

“The Lord does not have the time for games.” He growled again. Two of the other Death Eater’s took a step closer. The witch seemed un-phased.

“Really? You could have fooled me.” Her mocking sent a seething ripple of anger through all four Death Eaters.

“Watch your words.” One of them hissed at her. She laughed again.

“Tell you what, you want him, you come and get him. How’s that sound?” Harry was confused. Was she with them or against them? Was there even a place in between, where she was on neither side? Lucius was becoming angrier by the second.
“You know what I find strange? Is that the Dark Lord has risen…” there were gasps among the other passengers. “…and all he can think about is killing this little boy. It’s so pathetic. He could be off killing Muggles and destroying the lives of thousands of innocents and he sends you lot out to get one, single little boy.” There were grunts from the Death Eaters closest to the back of the bus and Harry could see they were inching closer. He tried to warn her, but she began talking again. “But then I think, hey, maybe there’s something special about the little guy.” She patted him on the head. “Maybe Voldemort…” the middle-aged couple gasped in horror at the sound of his name. “…sees something in him that not everyone can see.” Harry suddenly realised that she was talking stuff and nonsense. She was stalling, but why? “I mean, does it take four of you to take one underage boy who’s out on his own in the middle of the night?”

“Just give us the, boy. Your part here is over. Sk’Natherra is over, witch.” Harry felt her flinch at Malfoy’s words, and he could see the Death Eaters were closing in from the rear of the bus.

“Yeah, it is. And whose fault is that, Malfoy?” her words were cold and with one sudden quick gesture she released Harry from her grip. He cried out and he stumbled a step closer to Malfoy. She was handing him over after all, and Harry felt the same fear he felt last June when he knew he would face Voldemort again. Malfoy snarled and made a grab for him, but Harry felt a powerful force surround him and fill him, pulling him out of Malfoy’s reach. He heard a woman scream as the Death Eaters all rushed towards them at once. He heard a man scream “Expelliarmus!” which was followed by an almighty howling screech that could only have become from a Death Eater. He heard the woman scream again, this time with terror and pain. He felt arms around him, grasping for him, but the force, which had taken over Harry’s movements completely now moved him around like a puppet. A voice he recognised as Lucius Malfoy’s screamed “Imperio!” and he felt the light-headed fogginess fill his consciousness.

“Come here, Potter!” he screamed at him and Harry felt compelled to oblige him.

“Fight it!” he heard someone screaming, though he couldn’t tell who, and the same voice screamed “Stupefy!”. He heard a Death Eater screaming “Cruc…” and ended in a scream as someone cut him off before was able to complete the unforgivable curse. Everything felt like a terrible dream in slow motion. Malfoy screamed again for him to obey him, but Harry was ready. Building up all his strength, he fought back.

“No!” he screamed back. Suddenly everything came to a head as the slow motion ceased and the scene before Harry’s eyes was that of terror, chaos and pain. To his relief, Harry noticed two unmoving Death Eaters on the floor, and the witch was without her wand, for which Harry was grateful. Malfoy however was still very much in control. He turned and advanced on Harry. The witch turned to join them, and Harry backed away from her.

“No, Harry, it’s ok.” she said as Malfoy suddenly charged at him. In a split second, the witch suddenly pointed her finger at the locked emergency doors and cried out.

“Alohomora!” To Harry’s horror they flung open and the force that was controlling Harry’s body sent him flying through the open doors and into the dark night. He screamed as the force that had been engulfing his body suddenly disappeared. He dropped like a stone down through the night air, wind rushing in his ears. The bus was a mere blur of light above him, the ground a dull glow below. Harry plunged ever downward through the darkness.

TriwizardChamp12 · 05-03-2008, 06:55 PM

Sk’Natherra
im really confused on wat its about
please explain in your next post

Krysta · 05-03-2008, 09:53 PM

The fan fic is an alternative book five. It was written before Order of The Phoenix was published.

Sk'Natherra is to do with a Mythical coven that the story is based around. It all gets explained later on.

Just try to pretend the last three books haven't been written yet.

In case you were wondering, it is pronounced "Shack-na-terra"

Krysta · 05-03-2008, 10:09 PM

Chapter Three: The Bumps

His head hurt. No, Harry’s head didn’t hurt, it pounded, continuous explosions of pain throbbing through his brain at regular intervals. He couldn’t really see. Moving shapes, dull lights and shadows were all he could make out in his semi-conscious state. Voices around him were painful muffled echoes rolling around inside his head. Once or twice he thought one of the muffled voices was one he knew, but it hurt too much to even think hard enough to put a name and face to the voice. What had happened to him? He couldn’t remember, couldn’t think, too much pain. He forced a moan through his lungs causing himself more pain in the process. Another moving shape appeared before him. A gentle, muffled voice spoke and he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He was going again. The voices of the two new shapes that had appeared beside him slowly faded away to nothing and Harry slipped back into the blackness.

“Good afternoon young, man!”

Harry opened his eyes and the room spun. He waited for the pain to sink into his brain, but none came. He opened his eyes wider, and to his amazement and relief the world around him began to come into focus. He blinked hard but it was still there. Where was he? Who had spoken to him? He moved his arms, half expecting to find them bound to the bed. To his joy, he found he could move them freely, though he was a little stiff. He attempted to raise his upper body but several pairs of hands pushed him back down. Another voice spoke.

“No, Harry, just rest.” He gaped in amazement at the face before him.

“Mrs. Weasley?!” He looked beyond her to see Percy standing tall and straight with his arms crossed, a sober expression on his face. All at once everything came flooding back to him.

“The Bus!” he yelled.

“Yes, dear. It’s ok.” Began Mrs. Weasley , tucking the sides of the blanket under the mattress and began mopping his forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

“The Death Eaters! And the witch!” he cried again, trying to sit up. Mrs. Weasley gently pushed his back down again.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now. No one was hurt, and all three Death Eaters were caught. They’re on their way to Azkaban as we speak I hope.” She said bitterly.

“Three!” Harry shot up upwards again in horror.

“Harry, please calm down, you’ll make yourself ill again. It’s taken us 3 days to get you conscious.”

“But there were four! There were four Death Eaters, and a witch. She tried to kill me. She pushed me out of the bus.” Percy and his Mother were exchanging a look of pure terror.

“H-Harry, you’ve been ill. Your head has suffered some trauma. Your memory is just a little…” Percy began, a little patronizingly.

“No!” Harry shouted, this time moving with such determination he made it to a full sitting position. “No, there were three of them, and Lucius Malfoy was one of them, he was the leader. He and the witch were arguing. She wouldn’t hand me over straight away and they started duelling. At the end she pushed me out of the emergency doors…I think.”

Both Mrs. Weasley were watching him, uneasily.

“You think?” Percy picked up.

“Well she opened the doors with an Alohomora spell and then this great force lifted me off my feet and I was thrown out of the doors.” Replied Harry, clutching his head, which was beginning to ache a little after all. Percy didn’t look convinced.

“Harry, no one remembers Lucius Malfoy being there, and one of the Passengers worked for the Ministry. He surely would have recognised him.” Percy reported, officially.

“The wizard. The young one. He sat near the front. He saw Malfoy, I know he did!”

“Now, Harry, this is silly…” Percy began again.

“Listen to me!” he shouted, frustrated. “He helped me. I heard him. He disarmed one of the Death Eaters. And he heard the conversation between Malfoy and the…the witch, I know he did!” Percy looked shocked and confused, then the expression changed to the same old, pompous authoritive expression Percy was known for.

“Harry, I think you need some rest. There were four other passengers on that bus besides you, plus the Driver and Conductor, and none of them remember any of this. They remember that three Death Eaters, not four, but three attacked the bus. And not one of them mentioned the presence of Lucius Malfoy. And certainly no one has mentioned this witch of yours. She certainly wasn’t on the bus when the emergency team arrived. Now I have to report to father. He’ll want to know you’re ok.” With that, Percy turned on his heel and walked stiffly out of the room. Harry slumped back on his bed, and Mrs. Weasley returned to bathing his forehead. Her expression was sad and thoughtful.

“I’m not crazy, Mrs. Weasley. My head’s fine. There was a witch.”

“I’m, sure there was, dear. Percy is a little too like Cornelius Fudge unfortunately. If the truth is too hard to cope with, he likes to keep the easier scenario.” She paused. “I believe what you said about Lucius Malfoy, dear if that’s a consolation. Arthur and I believed you the first time when you said You-Know-Who was back, and that Lucius was with him. Arthur’s never really trusted him, despite Fudge’s insistence in his innocence. They cleared him you see, dear. And it’s easier for Fudge to sweep the matter under the carpet than to contemplate the possibility that they made a mistake.” Harry listened, relaxing now that he knew she believed him. She sighed. “But Harry, dear, what in Spirit’s name were you doing on the Knight Bus all by yourself in times like these? Where are your Aunt and Uncle?” Harry stared at her in confusion.

“But my letter…”

“What letter, dear?” she said, also sounding confused.

“I wrote you a letter! I explained everything. How I was coming here.” She looked completely confused now and shook her head.

“We didn’t get any letter, Harry.” Harry frowned.

“Then, where’s Hedwig?”

“She never came here. Maybe she got delayed.” Harry relaxed, though only a tad.

“I did give her two letters. I wrote to Sirius as well. If she took his letter first and he’s quite a long way from here…” he trailed off.

“Well there you go then, dear. Nothing to worry about.” She smiled and offered him a glass of water. He took it gratefully. Just then something occurred to him that should have occurred the moment he woke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, how did I get here?” she smiled back at him.

“I’ll leave that to Arthur to explain, dear. He’s dying to tell you the story.” She beamed at him, and he managed a half smile through the confusement. He was just thinking how quiet The Burrow was for a change when suddenly an almighty explosion caused mighty vibrations to ricochet around the house. Harry nearly dropped the glass in surprise. Shouts and yells met his ears, and he heard what must have been Ginny screaming and Ron yelling at the top of his voice. Simultaneously, Harry could hear yelps and wails coming from the twins, Fred and George.

“What in Spirit’s name…” began Mrs. Weasley. They exchanged looks of bewilderment and confusion before Mrs. Weasley took to her feet and tore out of the bedroom door in a panic.

Harry couldn’t bare the suspense a second longer. All he’d heard for the last ten minutes was more squeals and shouts from the younger Weasleys and several short outburst from Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh George! Oh Fred! What you done now…oh my god look at you all oh what in Spirit’s name? What am I going to do?! Less than six weeks of the holidays left. And at a time like this! As if your Father hasn’t got enough on his plate!”

Harry simply couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to know what was going on. He slowly and carefully climbed out of the bed, wincing at the pain, noticing for the first time the bruises all over his arms and legs. He grabbed his dressing gown from the end of the bed…his dressing gown! He stared at it. Where had it come from? He looked around the room and realised that all his belongings were there. His trunk and Hedwig’s cage were sitting at the bottom of the bed, and on closer inspection, he could see that everything was intact. Another shout from the Weasleys followed by a crash drew his attention and he pulled on his gown and made his way to the door. As he opened it, another crashing sound and a scream, this time from at least two of them came to his ears, only louder now he was out on the landing. Making his way carefully down the stairs the shouting and crashing was getting more frequent.

“Oh for goodness sake, George, hold onto something. Ron get away from the cabinet, last thing we need is you knocking all the plates everywhere. There was another scream and a thump, which Harry was sure came from Fred, and as Harry entered the kitchen he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Ginny was closest to him and she was covering her face with her hands and weeping. George was on the floor, trying to get up, Fred helping him. Ron was holding onto the kitchen table as if for dear life. All of a sudden Fred hiccupped violently and was propelled off the ground two feet into the air, landing on his bottom with a loud bump. He wailed and Harry could see three or four red smudges on his face and arms. Fred was just settling down again when Ginny hiccupped too, and despite clinging onto the hall door-handle was also propelled into the air, landing with a thump when she hit the floor again. She whimpered and turned to see Harry. She too had red blotches all over her skin and she screamed with horror, covering her face when she saw him.

“Harr-hic-arry!!!” hiccupped Ron is surprise as he was thrown off the chair he was sitting on and onto the floor.

“Oh dear! Harry, dear, you shouldn’t be down here.” Cried Mrs. Weasley, helping Ginny to her feet, who was desperately trying to hide her blotchy face from Harry.

“What’s happening, what’s wrong with them?” asked an astounded Harry, whilst George and Fred hiccupped simultaneously colliding in mid-air and falling in a large heap on the floor.

“The poor dears have the Bumps! I don’t know what I’m going to do? And now you’re going to get it too. You’re barely walking as it is! Oh dear, what is Arthur going to say?” Just then a disgruntled Percy came in and. The newconce on his face was replaced with shock, closely followed by terror.

“Argh! They’ve got the Bumps! They’ve got the Bumps. I have reports to do! We’re behind. I can’t get the Bumps!” with that he tore out the room as though chased by a herd of Chimaera.

“Percy! It’s ok! You’ve already had them!” Mrs. Weasley yelled after him, but after thundering steps up the stairs, his door slammed shut. “Poor Percy. Since Crouch died he’s had a hell of a time.” Harry looked down at his toes. All the events of last term came back to him. Discovering that the Professor Moody who had been teaching them DADA was infact Mr. Crouch’s supposedly dead son. He and three death Eaters had been arrested soon after the disappearance of Voldemort and imprisoned for the torture of Neville Longbottom’s parents. So embarrassed by his association with the Dark Lord, Crouch had sent his son to Azkaban for his crimes, despite the boy’s protests. Later however, the boy’s dying had pleaded with his Father to help him escape. His Mother, disguised as her son (polyjuice etc.) had taken her son’s place in his cell and died there months later. Crouch kept his son prisoner with the Imperius curse and a house elf, Winky. Unfortunately his son had overcome the spell and returned to his master. Disguising himself as Alastor (Mad-eye) Moody, an ex Auror for the Ministry of Magic, he had gone to Hogwarts so that he could bring Harry to Voldemort and the ritual to return him to his body could be performed. Crouch had died trying to warn everyone of the prominent rise of Voldemort, and Percy had not been the same since.

“Don’t feel so bad, Harry. It wasn’t your fault.” Ron had managed to drag himself to his feet and was approaching them.

“I know, Ron, but sometimes I feel that if I hadn’t left Krum alone with him…” Ron flinched at the mention of Viktor Krum, his ex-Quidditch hero who had shown a huge amount of interest in their friend Hermione Granger. “…maybe we could have overpowered Wormtail together, and Crouch would still be alive.” Ron hiccupped again and was thrown to the floor with a bump.

“No guesses as to why it’s called ‘The Bumps’ then.” Harry half-grinned. He helped Ron up again with a shaky hand.

“My **** is one big bruise.” muttered Ron and Harry couldn’t help but laugh, then shivered suddenly. “Hey! You should be in bed!” exclaimed Ron, and Harry nodded turning towards the stairs.

Once in Ron’s bedroom, Harry clambered back into the spare bed and Ron perched himself on the end of his own bed. He hiccupped once more, bouncing up and down on the mattress. Harry swallowed some more water trying not to laugh.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asked, calming down a little.

“Only when you land on your ****.” Ron muttered again. Harry smiled. “The blotches can itch a little but there’s a potion you can take for that. Mum’s gone to brew some now.”

“How long does it last?”

“Oh, who knows? Bill, Charley and Percy all had it when they were little, so they’re ok. You don’t get it if you’ve had it before.”

“Oh, it sounds like Chicken Pox.” Said Harry.

“What in spirit’s name is Chicken Pox?” laughed Ron, hiccupping at the same time and falling on the floor.

“It’s a Muggle illness. You get nasty itchy spots all over you and the more you scratch, the worse it gets.”

“How stupid!” laughed Ron. Harry was just thinking that The Bumps was way stupider than Chicken Pox when Mrs. Weasley came bursting into the room in a panic.

“Ron Weasley, what are you doing in here?”

“I was just talking to Harry!”

“Out!” she screeched. “Out, last thing he needs is The Bumps on-top of everything.

“But, Mu…”

“I said out!” she cried again, ushering him out of the door. “He’s probably going to get it anyway now, he’s been exposed to all of you and he helped you up, Ron. Oh dear, it’s probably too late.”

“Well if he’s going to get it anyway, I may as well stay here!” protested Ron, Harry trying not laugh. Ron, however, was ushered out of the door by his Mother, who came back in again a few minutes later.

“How are you feeling, dear? Your lungs all right? That’s where it starts.”

“Yes, they’re fine. I just feel a little headachy that’s all. Ron just wanted to see how I was. We’ve got so much to talk about.” They did. Harry was desperate to talk to his friend about what had happened. Ron would listen; he would understand that he had no choice but to leave. He was also dying for Mr. Weasley to come home so he could at last find out what had happened to him two days ago.

“Yes, of course you do. But you still need a lot of rest, and you won’t get any at all if you have the Bumps.” Harry supposed she was right. The Bumps were funny to watch, but he didn’t fancy having them himself. He nodded and lay back. “If you need anything just shout. One of us will hear you. You’ll mend quickly enough. Your bruises have already gone down a lot, and you seemed to be walking fine just now.” Harry nodded again and felt a yawn approaching. “Now are you sure you aren’t getting the urge to sneeze or hiccup?” He shook his head, and she smiled. “Good. Sleep well Harry. I better go and see if I can’t do something about that lot.” He grinned then yawned. He turned over and fell asleep almost as soon as she had left the room.

TriwizardChamp12 · 05-05-2008, 12:17 AM

man
it would suck
to have the "bumps"
that is like
x-treme hiccups

Krysta · 05-07-2008, 09:21 AM

Chapter Four: Conspiracies of Silence

Harry never did get the Bumps, and after another night and morning of rest he was up and out of bed, a little bruised but none the worst for wear. Ron, Ginny and the twins were still bumping around the house for three days to come but Harry didn’t seem to be affected, for which he was extremely grateful.
Hedwig, however still hadn’t turned up and Harry anxiously watched the window and the sky for any sign of her. Percy remained locked in his room anytime he wasn’t in the office and Mr. Weasley didn’t come home for another two days. When he did come home, one dark and stormy night he was tired and weary. He took the time to say hello to Harry, but when Harry began to ask him about the night of the attack, Mr. Weasley shook his head.

“In the morning, Harry. I really can’t think right now.” And with that he traipsed up the stairs to bed.

The next morning saw a change in Mr Weasley's appearance and persona. Everyone was already at the breakfast table when he came into the room, beaming. All save for one or two faint blotches on their faces the Bumps had cleared up completely and they all sat around talking happily, except Percy who had already left for the Ministry.

“Well, Harry, it’ good to see you looking so well. You had us worried for a time.” He smiled at him and Harry smiled back.

“Thanks Mr. Weasley.” Harry paused. “I know it’s early, but I’ve been going crazy. What happened to me? How did I get here?” Mr. Weasley looked stern for a moment, regarding Harry over his mug of coffee.

“Well Harry, it’s a very strange story. Firstly, if you tell me what you remember and I’ll see if I can fill in the gaps. Oh wait a minute. I better make a copy of what you say. There are some people who are extremely interested in your story.” Mr. Weasley pulled some parchment and a quill from his case and placed them on the table. With his wand he tapped the quill and uttered a word Harry couldn’t hear. The quill sprung into life and hovered over the parchment. Harry watched it suspiciously, remembering the lie-writing quill that Rita Skeeter used last year to publish scandalous stories about him and his friends. Ron saw his expression.

“It’s ok, Harry. It’s just a quill. It will just write what you say, and nothing else.” Harry relaxed a little.

Harry began to explain the entirety of the events leading up the attack of the Knight bus. He began way back with Dudley coming off his diet and the nasty joke he and Piers played on him with the orange juice. He told them the story from beginning to end; the letters he wrote that never arrived, his escape from Uncle Vernon, falling asleep on the bus to find the witch watching him. He told them of the attack and how Lucius Malfoy and the witch had argued before she finally handed him over, and the wizard duels that followed. Finally he told them how the witch had thrown him from the bus; the last thing he could remember being the fall through the night sky.

Finally he finished. It had taken him a full ten minutes to tell the story and the quill had used three pages of parchment. Everyone was silent, watching him. He felt uncomfortable. Did they too think he was crazy or concussed as Percy had? Finally Mr. Weasley spoke.

“That’s quite a story, Harry.”

“It’s true, Mr. Weasley. I’m not crazy, it all happened.”

“I’m sure it did, my boy, I’m sure it did. But that’s what’s worrying me. Voldemort must want you desperately to send Death Eater’s to capture you in public like that, and risky too. He couldn’t have known how many passengers were on that bus. He must have known they might have been overthrown.”

“But Lucius escaped, Dad. And this witch was nowhere to be seen.” Commented George. Mr Weasley nodded.

“Exactly. So what I want to know, is why didn’t the other passengers, including our own man, remember their presence?”

“They must have had their memories modified.” Suggested Ron. Harry nodded in agreement, but Mr. Weasley didn’t look so confident, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to take the same attitude.

“It’s not that simple, dears. Modifying a muggle memory is complicated enough. To modify the memories of four fully-grown and experienced wizards so that they remember the entire evening all besides the presence of two key figures: That’s another story.” She tried to explain. Harry, Ron and Ginny still looked a little vacant.

“You see the spell that modifies a memory wipes out an entire section of memory. It doesn’t nit-pick and it isn’t selective. Therefore, it can’t erase the memory of two people from a scene that they otherwise remember perfectly clearly.” Explained Mr. Weasley. Harry nodded with a frown.

“Then what’s going on?” he asked.

“Well, either you, my friend, are losing your marbles…” Harry looked about to protest. “…Which I don’t believe you are.” Mr. Weasley added quickly and reassuringly. “Or, there is some very powerful magic at work here that I, for one, cannot possibly comprehend.”

Ron looked at Harry with a grimace, whilst Harry noticed Ginny shiver next to him.

The rest of breakfast was devoted to Mr Weasley, with prompts and comments from Ron along the way, explaining how Harry had come to end up in the spare bed in Ron’s room.

Apparently Mr Weasley found a strange letter on his desk late in the afternoon of the eve of the attack. He had just been about to leave for home when a Kestrel flew through the window, dropped the letter and flew out again. The letter had been short, anonymous and its message had been a warning. It had simply said to keep a close eye on the Knight Bus this evening, and that was it. When he had taken it to Cornelius Fudge, he had waved his hand and dismissed it as a joke or prank, but Mr Weasley’s senses had been alerted. Sending an owl home to let them know he’d be late, he sent scouts out to follow the bus. The next morning they returned with three unconscious Death Eaters and a teenage boy: Harry. The Scouts who had been on brooms said Harry just fell out of the sky, barely conscious. Despite their attempts to catch the boy, they managed only to slow him down before he landed in a Muggle vegetable garden. Harry figured that’s how he got his bruises. When the explosions and flashes from the bus above them had ceased they went up to investigate. Besides the driver and conductor, they found three Death Eaters unconscious on the floor, a barely conscious Ministry Employee and three very scared passengers. When interviewed, they all gave the same story:
They all had recognised Harry for who he was of course, and told the Ministry officials that five minutes after Harry had woken the bus was attacked by three Death Eaters and that The Ministry Employee and Harry had somehow managed to fight them off. None of them however could come up with an explanation as to why Harry had “fallen” out of the bus. Harry had been unconscious when they found him and showed signs of the very rare ‘hibernation fever’, which Mr Weasley explained, can sometimes occur when a particularly potent protection spell puts a person to sleep. Not knowing what to do with the boy, Mr Weasley offered to take him home with him, as Harry had stayed with them many times and that his youngest son was Harry’s best friend. Fudge had eventually agreed only on the condition that Mr Weasley got a statement out of Harry and that he was kept up to date on any developments.

Harry sneered at the last part of the story.

“Even if I did tell him the truth about Lucius Malfoy and the witch, he wouldn’t believe me anyway. ‘Lucius Malfoy has been cleared, boy. Now stop all this silliness, you’re nothing but a trouble maker, always telling stories.’ That’s what he’d say.” Harry growled whilst Ron sniggered at Harry’s impression of the Minister Of Magic.

Just then a flurry of feathers whizzed past their head and slammed into the wall above the cooker. Half-hoping to see Hedwig Harry was amused but disappointed to see Pig emerge from behind a saucepan. Ron shook his head and Pig hopped over to the kitchen table, dropped a letter and began jumping up and down in glee.

“He’s totally loopy…ouch!” cried Ron as Pig tweaked his finger a little too hard. Ron opened the letter. “It’s from Hermione!” he announced and Harry shuffled closer so he could read over Ron’s shoulder.

Dear Ron (and Harry),

You poor things!!!! Oh Harry you could have been killed! What did you think you were doing? Ron says you’re alright, but are you? He said you were covered in bruises and were unconscious for days! You have to tell me everything when I see you.

Ron, the Bumps sound simply dreadful! Are you all alright now? Life is so boring here. I wish I was there with you, but I don’t want to get the Bumps because it will make my handwriting all wiggly when I’m writing my essays.

I hope Hedwig turns up soon, Harry. I’m sure she’s alright, she’s a very clever bird!

Well I have to go now, but write back and tell me how you all are.

Take Care,

Hermione

PS- Is everything ok with you-know-what?

“Well she sounds the same as ever.” Announced Ron, smiling.

“You-know-what?” Harry asked. “What does she mean?” Ron shrugged.

“Who knows half of what Hermione goes on about.” He changed the subject very quickly. “You up to a game of Quidditch, Harry?” Harry nodded, the idea of flying on his Firebolt for the first time for months was very, very tempting.

“Shall I see if Fred and George want to play?” Ron nodded and went off to get the brooms.

Harry went off towards the stairs.” Halfway up he met Ginny coming out of her room with a pile of papers. The moment she saw him she looked panicked and quickly turned and went back in. A little hurt Harry carried on up the stairs. He knew she had had a crush on him when she was younger, but he didn’t think she still did. Finally he came to Fred and George’s room. He could hear voices and thumps from inside.

“No, no. That’s pitiful!”

“Needs to be bigger, doesn’t it?” Harry heard a thump.

“How’s that?”

“Better, but not quite right.” Harry knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” the twins called in unison.

“It’s Harry. Want a game of Quidditch?” there was silence followed by frantic shuffling and moving of objects inside the room. Finally they called.

“Come in.” Harry opened the door and cautiously entered the room. The curtains were closed and Fred was doing his best to conceal a large box under his bed with his body.

“Let’s go then, shall we?” said George ushering Harry out of the room.

Harry thought maybe they were working on more practical jokes for their future shop, though again, he was a little hurt that they didn’t trust him enough to see what they were doing.

Once outside he forgot all about the strange behaviour displayed by Ginny, the twins and even Ron and Hermione. Maybe they did all think he was crazy. It wouldn’t be the first time. In The second year everyone thought he was a cold-blooded murderer, and in the fourth year everyone was avoiding him when Rita Skeeter published a story saying he was temperamental and had violent tendencies. However flying around the meadow chasing an old tattered quaffed that didn’t really fly anymore, the wind rushing through his air and past his ear, Harry felt completely free from any worries.

Two hours and forty minutes later and talking haughtily the four of them traipsed back into the house. Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen getting lunch. Ron and the others all stayed in the kitchen whilst Harry went up to Ron’s room to put his Firebolt away. As he entered the room and flutter of feather’s caught his eye and as he turned to see what trouble Pig had got himself into this time, Harry screamed with delight.

“Hedwig!” there she was, as white as snow and looking more beautiful than Harry had remembered. He rushed over to her and kissed her head gently, which surprised her and she ruffled her feathers with embarrassment. He stroked her head and she nipped his finger affectionately. She climbed onto his hand and he sat with her stroking her glistening feathers.

“W

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