Normally at midnight on Privet drive, it would be as empty as the desert of Arizona. And it was tonight, too. Until, a slight pop noise came out of the air. Also coming out of the air were two people, barely adults at age seventeen. They were holding hands. One was a tall, red-headed, freckled man and the other was a woman with long, bushy brown hair. They silently walked up a few houses, and the woman pulled out something from her pocket. It looked like a silver cigarette lighter. She pointed it at the nearest street light, and gave it a flick. The light flew out of its container, like a little golden snitch. She pointed it at the others, and they all flew into the contraption.
“It was in Dumbledore’s will for Harry,” she muttered, “I thought it might be useful.”
She again stowed it in her pocket, and they continued walking. It wasn’t a very far walk, for they only passed two houses. When they came up to number four, the man ran up and knocked, somewhat loudly, on the door. Within the house, the two could see the low-amperage lights of several lamps flicker on like small fireflies. There was a slow groan and “
“Who in the blazes is here at this time of night?” They heard a loud, deep voice call, “POTTER!!! GET DOWN HERE NOW!!!”
When the person who the voice belonged to open the door, the woman started speaking rapidly, “Hello, my name is Hermione Granger and this is Ron Wesley. We are friends of Harry Potter’s and have come to see him. You must be Vernon Dursley. How do you do, sir?”
“You freaks!” Vernon Dursley screamed, “Never!”
Hermione took her wand from her robes and, with a small flick; blast Vernon out of the way.
“Thank you very much,” Ron said calmly.
The woman and the man bounded up the staircase and banged on Harry Potter’s bedroom door.
Slowly, the door opened to show a tall teenager, just a tad younger than the people who had come to fetch him. He had green eyes, Jet-black hair, and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.
“Come in,” he muttered, exhaustedly but somewhat happily, with a grin on his face.
The two stepped in and closed the door shut. Hermione pointed her wand at the door, gave it another flick, and chains appeared out of thin air, with a padlock, locking the door.
“How you doing, mate?” Ron asked somewhat gleefully.
The small room had an equally small bed, and scattered all over the floor were various trinkets, ranging from t-shirts to a magic wand to newspaper clippings.
On the front page of one read,
Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, has died, reports Daily Prophet headline writer Hannah Johnston. (London, July 14, 1997) Although many details are still unknown or in strict confidentiality, we are able to report that yesterday night, Rufus Scrimgeour was murdered in his Belfast manor, just after the one-year mark of his being minister. The Senate has not voted on a replacement yet, so the head post is currently controlled by the Senate, headed by Dolores Umbridge and Percy Wealsy. It is unknown how long it will be until the Senate does have a final vote, albeit we do know that it is to be a hectic special session and could take up to six months, worse-case-scenario. Candidates include Umbridge, who, however, is under constant rapid-fire criticism for the handling of the situation with You Know Who two years ago, and Professor Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts. It is apparent that he was murdered by He Who Must Not Be Named himself, while in discussion with McGonagall herself via Floo. You Know Who broke into the line, came out of Scrimgeour’s fire, and dueled with him, finally killing him via Avada Kedavra. Continued on page 2…
The Magical Senate is in chaos, reports Daily Prophet headline writer Hannah Johnston. (London, July 15, 1997) In the aftermath the murder of the Minister for Magic, the whole of the Magical Senate of Britain and Ireland has reported to London. After fifteen straight hours of deliberation, no one has slept, and not one vote has been taken. It seems that candidates have finally been selected, and the formal filing process has just begun. No official word yet on who they are, but Junior Senator Arthur Wealsy has claimed that they include McGonagall, Umbridge, and even former Minister, Cornelius Fudge. He said quote, “Yes, it has been a {this word has been censored for your safety by the Daily Prophet appropriate content office} nightmare around here and I cannot give you any more details than what I already have.” Continued on page 2…
Minerva McGonagall succeeds Rufus Scrimgeour, reports Daily Prophet headline news writer Hannah Johnston. (July 20, 1997) In a breakthrough and unprecedented move, the Magical Senate of Britain and Ireland has chosen Minerva McGonagall, former Transfiguration professor and, for a very short time, headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is reported that Filius Flitwick will replace her as headmaster. Remus Lupin, under constant Wolfsbane potion, has agreed to become head of Gryffindor house and DADA teacher. Meanwhile, Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody will become Charms teacher and Professor Vector head of Ravenclaw. In a short statement given to us earlier today, she has said that she will pursue vengeance for the death of Albus Dumbledore against Severus Snape and other Death Eaters. Also today, He Who Must Not Be Named popped his head into McGonagall’s fire today, demanding that she step down and appoint him as Minister, and she responded with a wonderfully done hex in the face. Continued on page 2…
Ron and Hermione sat down on Harry’s bed with him, not speaking for several minutes. Harry had many reasons to keep quiet and many things to think about, such as the deaths of Dumbledore and Sirius, and finding Snape and the Horcruxes. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.
“So, Harry, how have you been?”
“Not wonderful,” he responded with a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
“Listen, mate,” Ron said, “We know how you are feeling, and we are hear to help you. Don’t think that we don’t feel your pain, especially with being around Ginny…”
“SHUT UP, RON!” Hermione screamed, filled with rage, just a moment too soon.
“Ginny?” Harry muttered, a bit more interested, “What about her?”
Hermione glared at Ron, still looking very frustrated, and said, a bit less loudly, “We might as well tell him.”
Ron shrugged, and finally said, “She has not been doing very well. She’s been in a very right state, and frankly, I’m worried about her.
“She has talked very little,” he continued, “And the only times in which she has talked always about you. ‘Harry said this,’ or ‘Harry did this,’ or ‘Harry and I,’ it is getting frustrating. The rest of the time it is just grunts and mumbles. Mum’s tried to talk her through it, but she won’t listen to a thing she says.”
Hermione now started, “It’s even come to the point where she’s refusing meals. I know she’s not sleeping well, I hear her all the time at night muttering loudly, ‘Harry, Harry.’ She’s in real distress, and I think you are the only comfort for her. You’ll need to talk to her.”
“Please do,” Ron added.
Harry considered all this for a moment. No matter how much he had tried to push it out of his mind, he had never been able to put his true feeling out of his mind, even after breaking up with Ginny.
“On a lighter note,” Hermione started again, “Bill and Fleur have set a wedding date. July 31, in honor of your birthday, Harry. I think that might be the… proper time to talk with her.”
“Why on my birthday?” Harry asked.
“To honor the one person on this planet who can possibly get rid of You Know Who,” Ron blurted out.
“Did you hear about Scrimgeour?” Hermione asked, desperately avoiding the topic.
“Yeah. Serves him right that moronic”,” at this Harry went into an emotional rampage about him ending by saying, “Selfish arrogant prig.”
“I know he was a prig and a git, Harry,” Hermione said, “But he was a well respected man and he deserves our respect, too.”
“Whatever.”
With a small swoosh, a large eagle owl blasted through the window and landed, much like a large jet, onto Harry’s too-small bed, implementing several braking systems.
Harry immediately ripped the letter open. The front of it was blank except for a few microscopic letters that read, "Ministry of Magic." It was in red ink. The letter itself was in jet black ink, on a pale sheet of parchment. It was neatly written. Harry could tell a once who it was from, for there was a red Ministry seal on the top right-hand corner. It included a copy of the press release, as well as her condolences on the death of Dumbledore and a promise that she would have Snape dead or in Azkaban within six months, a tall order that Harry did not believe. At the very bottom, Minister for Magic Minerva McGonagall signed.
The next day was a wonderful day for Harry. For one, he now had Ron and Hermione for company. They would help pass the time by talking to him about the day’s headlines or new spells that they learned themselves. The Dursleys were not very bad probably because they were keeping a fully grown wizard and witch on their property.
After grudgingly serving them their kipper and eggs breakfast, Hermione and Harry decided to show Ron the television set. They sat on the living room sofa, and Ron was fascinated by the wires running in and out of the huge, flat-screen, widescreen T.V. After turning it on, Ron was simply astounded.
“It’s like a photograph,” he said, “But you can change the picture by just pressing a button! Amazing!”
The muggles on television were clearly aware of something wrong happening; there were thirteen disappearances in the world that day, ten from Britain alone!
After their daily Television viewing, the trio again bounded to the top of the stairs and into Harry’s bedroom. Two sleeping bags had been added to the landscape; it was messier than ever. Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered, “Scourgify,” which cleared out a space on Harry’s bed to sit. For several seconds, they just sat and contemplated again.
“So, are you going to talk to Ginny?” Hermione broke the silence.
“Yeah, Yeah I guess.”
Ron said, “Thanks mate. It will be nice to have her back to normal.”
Hermione just said, “I guess it is time to go.”
“Why so early,” Harry asked in a very wondrous tone.
“I assume you want to get out of this dump A.S.A.P?”
“Sure.”
Hermione, with one simple spell, packed up the entire room and left, followed by the two boys. They followed her all the way out the door, and stopped on thee front porch.
“Now, how exactly are you planning to get us there?” Harry asked to Hermione, remembering that he and Ron couldn't legally Apparate yet.
“Before Ron and I left the Burrow, I took the liberty of getting a Portkey license.”
She removed a pen from her pocket, pointed her wand at it, and muttered, “Portus.”
It glowed blue for a few seconds, and fell to rest.
“On my mark. One, two, three, touch!”
They all three touched. Harry felt like a car had hit him in the stomache.
It was an astounding sight. The normally somewhat messy gardens were in perfect condition. There was also a small white pavilion set up near the walkway, and chairs set up in both directions around the walkway. A massively large table holding nothing at the moment was in front of the pavilion.
Mrs. Weasley greeted each one of them with a small hug, and showed them into the house. The sitting room looked completely different, with all-white chairs. A hung poster read:
Bill et Fleur pour jamais
It was surrounded by pink roses filled with live pixies. A huge crowd of people had gathered in this room, and most of which Harry didn’t recognize. He knew that these were the French Delacours, and very few of them knew, “Eenglish.”
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A/N: This chapter and other interm chapters are not nearly as good as the ones to come, but please keep reading and reviewing!