The Dursley’s of number 4 Privet Drive stood outside their house among the curious onlookers, eagerly anticipating the verdict of the judges that were closely inspecting their lawn that had been meticulously trimmed and weeded. They were the only living relatives Harry Potter had. He stood in his room quietly observing the scene below him. His skinny, horse-faced Aunt Petunia was biting her lower lip nervously as one of the judges approached her prized begonias. It was clear to Harry that she was agonized by the thought of someone touching her precious flowers. Portly Uncle Vernon was petting his moustache while pompously boasting to another judge about the new manure he had employed to great effect.
Dudley Dursley, Harry’s cousin and childhood tormenter, stood eyeing a surly looking girl named Mafalda. She had moved onto Privet Drive only days after Harry returned home from school. A grin appeared on Harry’s face as he remembered how Dudley had attempted to impress her. He had thrown a giant bag of Uncle Vernon’s manure over his shoulder unaware it had already been torn open. This had sent manure all over causing Mafalda to burst into hysterical laughter. Embarrassed, Dudley had attempted to scuttle into the house when the sprinklers, as though by magic, had turned on.
The manure mixed with water had become what its name promised to be, a big pile of dung. It was in that pile Dudley slipped; he had gone flying into the air landing hard on his oversized bottom. Of course Harry had been blamed for the manure that Dudley had tracked into the house when he managed to escape Mafalda and Harry’s laughter. Aunt Petunia had forced him to clean the floors of the entire house with a rag and soapy water; still, it had been well worth it. That, undoubtedly, was the highlight of the two weeks that he had spent at home with the Dursley’s.
Harry let the curtain fall as he walked to his bed and threw himself onto it folding his hands behind his head. By all means, the Dursley’s appeared to be a normal family. He was the one that they labeled a freak because he was a wizard. They were what the wizarding world referred to as muggles, or non-magic people. At the age of eleven he had learned the hideous truth that his parents were murdered by a powerful dark-wizard, Lord Voldemort. After killing his parents Voldemort had turned on the one year old Harry with the killing curse, strangely the curse had rebounded leaving Voldemort barely alive and Harry with a scar. It was what made him famous, the feature that distinguished him as the-boy-who-lived. Harry Potter, the only human ever to have survived the killing curse, had lifted the terror that the wizarding world lived in. Not that he could remember any of that.
Harry did remember thwarting Voldemort’s ongoing attempts to kill him and regain power. Lord Voldemort’s first rise to power had been marked by missing people and strange deaths. Nothing had changed. Now he was rising to power again, murdering again. In his third year at Hogwart’s Harry learned he had a godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius was Harry’s silver lining. The parent he never had. The threat held over the Dursley’s head if they mistreated him as they so often did. He was the best man at his parents wedding. He was his father’s greatest friend. He was dead…Sirius was dead…murdered by one of Voldemort’s followers. Harry took the now misty glasses he wore off his face angry that he had once again allowed himself down that trail of thought.
Harry slid off his bed, sitting with his back against his mattress. Sitting upright seemed to be the only way Harry could manage to regain control when the knot in his chest threatened to overwhelm him, he fought hard to get his breathing even again. Suddenly, he heard a loud cheer go up among the crowd in front of the house. Harry had no difficulty surmising that the Dursley’s lawn had been named best lawn in the neighborhood. He took solace in knowing that they would undoubtedly be showing off their perfect lawn to all the neighbors, thereby leaving him with the next couple of hours to himself.
Harry quickly regained composure after that and, reaching under his bed to a useful loose floor-board that the Dursley’s did not know about, he extracted a curious letter his best friends Ron and Hermione had sent. More than anything, their attempt at collaboration put a smile on his face. He could almost hear Hermione in her bossy tone telling Ron that she would write the letter because her handwriting was legible as opposed to his troll scroll. Although he felt sad at the thought of them being in the burrow without him, their letter gave him heart:
Harry,
Sorry we haven’t been able to write you the past few days. Fred and George have been testing their inventions on the owls. They gave Errol a ditzy blitz (looks like muggle gummy worms that spin on their own) ever since than he fly’s around the house spinning himself dizzy. Honestly! Those two, with their silly inventions!
Could you imagine if they had managed to give that stuff to Pigwidgeon before we stole him away? That git is already insane!
That was from Ron. I told him his writing is not exactly legible, but there you are. The good news is Professor Dumbledore gave the okay for you to come and join us! Hang in there for now, you’ll be here soon. Very soon! Take care till then.
Love from,
Hermione AND RON!!!
Harry smiled as he set the letter down. He could definitely imagine Fred and George, Ron’s older twin brothers, wreaking havoc. He had secretly helped fund their joke shop, to their mother’s dismay, and last he heard business was thriving. Harry found it curious that they did not give him a date and time to be ready. He had therefore decided to not share with the Dursley’s that wizards may be descending upon their home at any moment. He would relish the looks on their faces when it actually happened. The hysterical laughter followed by the slamming of the front door quickly pushed all thoughts from Harry’s mind. His curiosity piqued, Harry went to see what all the commotion was about.
A harassed looking Dudley entered the kitchen with yellow feathers trailing him. By the looks of it, Harry could swear that Dudley had just been the victim of a canary cream, but how could that be? A swift glance out the window confirmed no Weasley was outside. Perplexed, Harry came down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dudley was pulling the last of the feathers from his bottom. He decided that the best course of action was to simply ask.
“Who gave you the canary cream?” his remark sounded off the cuff as he settled into a chair. Dudley was eyeing him nervously, as though he was unsure of whether or not to answer.
“Falda,” Dudley finally muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Harry questioned him bolting upright and leaning towards Dudley suspiciously.
“Mafalda,” whimpered Dudley.
Harry reeled at the information Dudley had inadvertently given him. If Mafalda had indeed given Dudley the canary crème that could only mean one thing, she was a witch.
“How old is she?” Harry continued to question Dudley. If Dudley had found this question odd he didn’t show it.
“Fourteen, I think,” Dudley answered hesitantly, eyeing Harry. The same conclusion seemed to form in both of their minds at once.
“Doshegotourcool?” Dudley struggled to get his question out.
Harry knew that Dudley had meant to say ‘does she go to your school.’ Scratching his head, he attempted to picture her in Hogwarts robes. A picture of Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, talking to a young witch came to mind. Harry knew all at once that Mafalda was indeed a witch. Nodding to himself he tried to remember if he knew which house Mafalda belonged to, he didn’t. A crestfallen Dudley slumped into the chair opposite him. Clearly, he was taking the news that Mafalda was a witch hard. Harry got up to leave when the sound of Dudley clearing his throat stopped him.
“Would you…” Dudley’s voice trailed off, he seemed to refocus and swallowing hard tried again, “Would you not tell, mum and dad that is?”
He looked up at Harry waiting for a reply. Truth be told, Harry had no intention of informing his Aunt and Uncle that a witch had taken residence across the street from them. He gave Dudley a curt nod before proceeding up the stairs to think about what he had learned. Sitting on his bed he wondered whether it was sheer coincidence that a young witch had moved in across the street from him. He decided on the only course of action that he could take without arousing any suspicion. Taking a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink from the trunk that lay open at the end of his bed he began to scribble a letter to Ginny. When he had finished he reread his letter to make sure he had not made an errors in his haste:
Ginny,
A young witch named Mafalda has moved in across the street from the Dursley’s and I remember seeing you talking to her. Today she gave my cousin Dudley a canary crème. It was pretty funny. Is she your friend? Could you let me know which house she’s in? Hope your having a nice break. Please write back soon.
Harry
He thought about adding more but he didn’t want Ginny to know how nonplussed having a witch across the street made him feel. He would have to wait until the crowd outside dispersed before sending Hedwig to Ginny. Normally, he would have felt odd writing to Ginny as she had once had a crush on him, but he knew that she no longer fancied him. In fact she hadn’t for a while. During the previous year, she had been dating a wizard named Michael at the same time he, Harry, had dated Cho Chang. Thankfully that was all over now. On the Hogwarts Express Ginny had shared the news that Michael and Cho were now dating. The two were rather well suited as Cho was annoyingly whiney and Michael, as Ron had termed him, was ‘a stupid git’.
Harry had glanced at Ginny and shared her amusement over the new couple. She however, delivered yet another bombshell that she now had her eye on Dean Thomas. Ginny’s announcement about Dean surprised him. Of course it had floored Ron, who complained about her poor taste the rest of their trip home. Dean wasn’t a terrible fellow, but Harry knew how protective all the Weasley boys were about their only sister. He smiled in spite of himself; Ginny had proven this past year to be quite mischievous with pranks worthy of Fred and George. She had also taken over his quidditch position and beat Cho to the snitch winning the quidditch cup.
When he had led the students in forming a secret organization, called Dumbledore’s Army, Ginny was one of the youngest students allowed to join. She had difficulty with many of the spells, yet with her persistence and Hermione’s help she was quickly mastering the tough spells he taught them. This year she planned to try out for one of the chaser positions on the Gryffindor quidditch team. Harry knew she had a great chance of being picked because she could really fly.
He replaced the ink bottle and quill in his trunk and placed Ginny’s note under the floor-board. Lying back onto his mattress he let thoughts of next years Gryffindor quidditch team run though his mind.