THE IMMORTAL WORDS OF VENUSGREENIGHT:
Hello to you my courageous reader. You wander into a world so precious and immense that my own mortal words cannot even begin to explain. That world, of course, is Harry Potter. So, all this humble author/fanfiction writer can say is, "sit, back, and relax and ENJOY" and REVIEW!!!
oh, and...i might want to mention that I don't won Harry Potter. I would LIKE to, mind you. In fact, I don't think I know one person who WOULDN'T want to own Harry Potter...well...there was that one person...*shakes head*
However, I do own this plot. And any new characters I might have added to spice up the story. THEY are mine. Mwahahahaha!
But I bet you're tired to listening/reading to me. (lol). I might even threaten to ramble on if you don't review. We wouldn't want that, now would we...?
THE DARK MARK
Mine enemy is growing old�”
I have at last revenge.
The palate of the hate departs;
If any would avenge�”
-Emily Dickinson
Harry walked into the busy office, the latest edition of the Daily Prophet in hand and wand in pocket. Walking skillfully along the numerous rows of tall cubicles, he stopped at the end of a long aisle; poking his head in the cubicle and grinning broadly.
“ ‘Morning, Kingsley!” Harry said brightly. Kinsley Shacklebolt looked up and winced.
“Much too cheerful for the morning,” he grumbled. Harry waved the Daily Prophet in front of Kingsley.
“Guess who’s in the paper?”
“What did Moody do this time?” Kingsley said. Grinning slyly Harry positioned the paper in front of his eyes and read out loud:
“Arthur and Molly Weasley of London are happy to announce the engagement of their daughter, Virginia Weasley, to Neville Longbottom. The couple will be married July 19, 2001 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“The bride-to-be is currently in training to be an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. The future groom is employed as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.”
Kingsley sighed heavily.
“Not another one! I tell you, Hermione and Ron’s wedding took all the partying out of this old man.”
Harry chuckled.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You were the best dancer at the reception. You and Amelia Bones sure hit it off.”
Kingsley blushed as he frowned menacingly.
“Out of here you young ruffian! Out I say!”
Harry laughed as he left the cubicle and headed back down the aisles to his own office. He slumped down in the chair at the big oak desk, pulling his wand out of his pocket and pointing it at a coffee cup on one of the filing cabinets.
“Maté,” he muttered and the mug filled with steaming coffee. Taking the cup by the handle, Harry took a sip of the warm bitter liquid and leaned comfortably back in his chair, looking absently around at the many things posted along his cubicle walls.
There was his Auror certificate that declared that he had been licensed an Auror on “the Twenty Fifth of June, the year Two Thousand.” Harry had framed the certificate, hanging it in the center of his cubicle.
Then there was the bullion board that was cluttered with pictures. A couple were from the last year of Hogwarts, showing the smiling and waving forms of himself, Ron, Hermione, and all of their friends. There were photos of the Order of the Phoenix, with all the newly recruited members. However, most of the pictures were from Ron and Hermione’s wedding, from about a half-year ago. Hermione danced around in a lovely white gown, Ron gazed happily into her eyes, and the whole wedding party proposed toasts. The wedding reception had been in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The reception had seemed so magical. Maybe that was due to all the pranks Fred and George had played on the couple. Indeed, the twins owning a magical joke shop had made the lives of all their friends and relatives very interesting.
Yet Ron and Hermione’s wedding was only one of a series of recent nuptials. Two years previous, Harry had married the love of his life, the most wonderful, creative, and beautiful person he had ever known, Luna Lovegood. An addition to their small family had arrived but a year later. Lily’s picture was pinned in the middle of the bulletin board. Her big green eyes were so like her father’s and her downy blonde hair like her mother. She hadn’t quite lost her baby fat, as she was only a year old. Harry couldn’t believe how such a small human being could bring so much love and happiness into his life.
Fred and Angelina were to be the next ones to tie the knot. They’re wedding but days away, Harry was anxious to see if George would allow the festivities to run smoothly.
And in the upcoming July, Ginny and Neville. It was not hard to imagine the headache Molly Weasley had had for the last year or so, what with all of her children getting married. However, the family could now easily afford the wedding expenses. After all, the Minister of Magic does make quite a lot of money. Arthur had been promoted after Cornelius Fudge’s retirement in Harry’s seventh year, much to the joy of the majority of the ministry faculty.
A flashy blue poster hanging on the left wall of the cubicle showed the whizzing figures from the Appleby Arrows, the Northern English Quidditch team. The special thing about the poster, however, was the handsome image of Oliver Wood, star Keeper for the Appleby Arrows. Oliver had sent Harry the poster in the mail, and even signed it. Harry couldn’t help but think the fame was getting to Wood a bit like it did to Lockhart.
However, the far corner of the cubicle was more serious. It was there that Harry hung the newspaper clippings with headings such as “The Defeat of Voldemort; Boy Who Lives Conquers.”
Even though the Dark Lord had been destroyed, there was much on the Auror’s plates. Right and left old Death Eaters tried to reunite Voldemort’s followers, not quite believing that Voldemort was finally dead. And dead he was. There was no way possible he could have survived. His remains were kept in Ron’s department, the Department of Mysteries, constantly under surveillance and heavy death spells.
Harry felt as though a part of him had died after that final duel with Voldemort in his seventh year. There was no one to want revenge on for killing his parents anymore. He had done his vengeance. There wasn’t the constant lurking fear of Voldemort hurting any family or friends. Voldemort was dead. Still, there was one person to pay back. Wormtail hadn’t been caught. Harry knew he was out there, prowling and waiting for the right moment to lash out and begin Voldemort’s reign again. Wormtail had become stronger. He was much more power hungry and Voldemort like. And he was still free.
With Voldemort dead, Harry had dedicated his time to hunting down Wormtail and destroying him also. He had charts in the corner with marks on where Wormtail had last been seen, or where clues had appeared. Where murders had occurred. The world was not yet safe from the terror of Voldemort.
A small article tucked away under some of the large charts read, “Malfoy dies in Azkaban Resistance.” No, Draco hadn’t been killed, but his father had. Lucius Malfoy was found guilty in affiliation with Voldemort. However, Lucius had fought against the Aurors and been killed in the process. The culpability of Lucius had brought the family name down considerably in the books of dignified wizards. Draco Malfoy worked in the Department for Rights of Fubberworms, being the only job the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, would allow him to hold in the Ministry.
Harry was jerked out of his relaxation when a blur of white landed in the coffee mug he was about to take a sip from. Grumbling on the imprecision of paper, Harry plucked a quivering memo plane from his mug. After shaking the excess coffee off it, Harry unfolded the note and read:
Potter. I regret to inform you that a sighting of the Dark Mark has been reported. Head immediately to the post in Edinburgh. -A. Weasley
Harry jumped out of the chair, grabbed his cloak from a hook by the door, and ran out of the cubicle, almost bowling over Tonks, who stood just outside of the door.
“Whoa, Potter! Where’s the fire?” Tonks exclaimed.
“No time to talk,” Harry called over his shoulder, still sprinting down the aisle. “Dark Mark sighting!”
“Anything I can do?” Tonks hollered back.
“Call Luna! Tell her I’ll be late!” Harry called before turning a corner at the end of the row.
He dashed onto the elevator and was driven mad with impatience before it finally can to a stop on the main floor. Sprinting out of the elevator and into the lobby, Harry pushed ahead of several people in line for the fireplaces.
“Move people! Auror coming through! Important business!” he shouted. The people parted like water. It was routine to let hurried Aurors through.
Harry quickly grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the pot, threw it into the fire, stepped in, and called, “Princes Street!”
The warm fire, blazing with green flames, roared as Harry hurled through fireplaces. He instinctively clutched his glasses to his face so they wouldn’t fall off. Finally he tumbled out of the fireplace, rolling over into a summersault and jumping neatly to his feet. He was in a living room, the headquarters of the Edinburgh Aurors. Arthur Weasley sat on a threadbare couch, looking at his watch intently.
“That was a record, Harry,” Arthur grinned. “Only about five minutes.”
Harry growled in frustration.
“If only it weren’t for that dang elevator I could have been here in three.”
“Yes, well, then there’s no time to loose,” Arthur said, jumping to his feet. “The Dark Mark was spotted a few miles away, a house on Melville Drive. A white Tudor, about three stories high, big pine tree in the front. Can you get there?”
Harry nodded.
“We were clued in by a reliable source. Careful Harry. I hope this is not what it seems.”
Harry frowned.
“Go now!”
With a swish of his cloak, Harry apparated from the Prince Street Headquarters. In less than a second he appeared outside on a wide street, rows of houses and shops on each side. The sun shone brightly up in the clear blue sky, but Harry’s mind felt clouded. He looked quickly around for the house Arthur had described. It wasn’t too hard to find. The only white Tudor house with a pine tree in the front also happened to have the eerily spine tingling form of the Dark Mark hovering over the chimney.
He dashed over to the house. The sidewalk in front of it was barren; there was no sign of pedestrians anywhere.
Harry strode quickly along the front walk and leaped up the front steps, trying the front door. It was unlocked. Trying unsuccessfully to calm his breathing, Harry looked inside. He blinked and waited for his eyes to grow used to the dim light.
The living room was extravagantly decorated. Large, grand pictures framed in gold hung on the walls. Beautiful but uncomfortable looking sofas surrounded a cold marble fireplace. However, the most startling feature of the room was the limp figure of a body spread on the floor in front of a coffee table. Harry dashed over to the body, turning it face up. His heart skipped a beat as Harry realized who the person was. It was Cornelius Fudge, former Minister of Magic.
Fudge’s elderly face was stretched out into a surprised and disbelieving look. His eyes stared blindly ahead like a china doll’s.
Harry hurriedly felt for a pulse. Fudge’s wrist felt as still and cold as stone.
Here's an on going Review Reminder tradition of mine. I use a quote from Harry Potter (either the book or movie) and YOU (the reader) review. Make sense?
*announcer voice* LETS GET READY TO RUMBLE!!
*end announcer voice*
Albus Dumbledore:
"I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a REVIEW. No doubt they thought it would amuse you."
oh geez. please excuse me.