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Prodigy | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All Genres: Comedy, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 209 Summary: Some people say that Prodigies are born. Other people believe that Prodigies evolve in the proper environment. What if Harry was a born Prodigy but living with the Dursleys dampened his education? This is the story of what would happen if Harry had the opportunity to develop his intelligence. Note from SIYE: The original author of the story “Prodigy,” jmcqk6, has told SIYE he has abandoned his story and has given permission to other authors “that anyone could do whatever they want with it.” There is no issue of plagiarism involving this story. ~Sir Ollivander ~SIYE Administration Hitcount: Story Total: 74804; Chapter Total: 8482 |
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Chapter 3 — New Things, New Friends Friend — n. s. friend. A person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. Harry woke up with a yawn the morning of the beginning of his fourth week at his new location. Not that he knew it; time had no meaning to him anymore. What purpose would it serve him? He had no place he needed to be, nowhere to go that really mattered to him. He didn't have any deadlines, school worries, or any number of other time related issues. He simply did what he wanted when he wanted to do them, and he didn’t have to explain it to anybody. He woke up whenever his body felt the need to, and went to sleep when he was feeling tired. He ate a meal when he was hungry. He showered when he felt the need, and he had fun whenever he was bored. The human artificial constructs known as months and days of the week had quickly lost their meaning for the young boy. That is not to say that his time was not well spent. He had completed his study of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 book, but it had taken longer than the grade 1 book. The concepts were a little more difficult to grasp, being a more advanced book, and Harry had to skip over some of them. That didn't stop him from taking a copious amount of notes, though. Harry did receive help every once in a while from the mysterious voice in his head. The old woman seemed to be able to say the exact thing he needed at just the right moment for him to understand the concept he was working on. All inquiries as to her identity were unanswered and met instead with a slight chuckling from the woman. “So you've not figured it out yet, young one?” the woman had asked him once when Harry had — once again — asked her name. Harry had shaken his head no in answer. The woman explained mysteriously, “My name is unimportant, though you shall discover it when you need it. It is the will of the fates that you do not know yet, and the fates are never wrong.” The answer had only served to confuse Harry even more, but he decided to try not to think about it. He tried to focus on learning magic, but the task was beginning to wear on him. Sure, it was still exciting, but it was so hard. Kids his age were not meant to learn the things he was doing, and the books reflected that. Luckily, though, the answer came from a completely unexpected source. Harry was sitting down eating breakfast one morning when his eye caught the door in the corner he hadn't seen before. His curiosity was immediately drawn. How was it that he had been at his new house for so long and yet never noticed the thing sitting in the corner? Perhaps it had been previously hidden by magic? Drawing his 'wand' for protection, Harry made his way down to the door and opened it. The door opened to reveal stairs leading down to what was apparently the basement, though the area was too dark to tell for certain. Harry willed his wand to begin to glow to illuminate the way, and descended the stairs. At the bottom, his eyes were met with the most interesting sight: several tables with vials of different substances, cauldrons of different sizes, something that looked to be Bunsen burners, and many other things that Harry wasn’t able to recognize. The one thing that was certain was what purpose the room served; it was a potions laboratory. Noticing the torches at different locations in the room, he lit them and began to look around. The prospect of having his own potions lab was terribly exciting. Harry had read about potions in some of his mother’s old books, but he hadn’t imagined that he would be able to actually make some of them, because he didn’t have the proper equipment. Now that he had this room available to him, he would be able to work to his hearts content, or until he ran out of supplies. He knew he would need to figure out how he would gain needed supplies at some point, but since he still had plenty of food, it wasn’t at the top of his priorities. Harry walked to the side of one of the tables and began to examine its contents. There were vials and containers with names like ‘Aconite,’ ‘Bubotuber puss,’ ‘Graphorn,’ ‘Moonstone,’ and many, many others which looked to be potion ingredients. Other vials contained substances labelled with names like “Murtlap Essence,” “Pepperup Potion,” and "Skele-Gro." There were also some books strewn about, some notebooks and other things related. Harry’s excitement was growing with every moment. There was so much he could do here, and so much for him to learn. He remembered seeing the chemistry lab at the school once, and wanting to pretend to be a scientist in such a lab. Now he didn’t have to pretend — he would be doing the real thing! Harry picked up one of the books and tried to find a simple potion that he could try out at once. The sleeping draught that he found seemed to be pretty easy, and he had all of the ingredients needed. Following the directions carefully, he began to slice the ingredients, and began boiling the pot of water that was required. Soon the water was at a rolling boil, and he began to combine the ingredients as the book said, stirring carefully. Unfortunately, he was not careful enough. As soon as the moonstone was added into the concoction, there was an explosion, and Harry was thrown off of his feet and across the room, temporarily knocked out and with the points of his unruly black hair singed. The cauldron was still throwing thick grey smoke when he came around ten minutes later. “Hmm,” he mused as he rubbed his head. “Perhaps making potions is going to be slightly trickier than I first thought.” With a sigh, he gathered up the books and notebooks and cleared an area for him to work and take notes. Looking through the written notes, which appeared to be his mothers, Harry didn’t find anything too helpful right away. The books, though, were a different story. There was one book titled The Complete Guide to Potions Ingredients by Classification and Category, by Nicholas Flamel. It seemed to list every possible ingredient with a long list of alternate names and properties. The book appeared to side reference another: The Complete Guide to Potions, by Nicholas Flamel. Harry couldn’t find that book immediately, but made a note to look for it in the upstairs library when he had a chance. Harry decided it might be a good idea to try to figure out exactly what had gone wrong with the sleeping draught he had tried to brew. He hadn’t cleaned up the mess yet, so maybe there would be some clues left behind that would help enlighten him. Harry remembered that the explosion occurred right as he attempted to add the moonstone, so he turned to that page in the book. There entry read like this: Moonstone: Gemstone known for its emotional power. Usually used in powder form for emotional balance. Classification: Magato Gem Feelisio Luna Category: Magical Gemstones Commonly used in: Sleeping Draughts, Peace Potions, and Counter Love Potions History: Discovered by Zosimus in 342 A.D. while attempting to energize a Heart Diamond. Hazards: When adding to potions containing salamander blood, add 1 gram at a time over a period of 30 seconds to avoid explosions. Harry double checked the recipe he was just trying to create. Sure enough, there was the salamander blood, but there was no mention of the special way to combine the Moonstone. So at least it wasn’t totally his fault. Harry started turning the pages of the book looking at the other information in a random fashion. It was amazing how simple the book was written; he almost understood everything about it. The only thing that was consistently beyond him was the classifications, but he didn’t think them to be too important at the time being. It was an idea that would make him kick himself later. Getting hungry after a few hours, Harry went back upstairs to grab some lunch. The fridge was still pretty full of food, which made Harry wonder if there was a charm that kept it that way. He had no way of knowing, though, and it didn’t really matter to him either way. As long as the food was there, he didn’t have to worry about it. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwh ghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwh ghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwh ghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg About a mile away from the big house Harry Potter was living in, at that very instant, a snowy white owl was feeling restless in her small cage. She had been caught only a few days before in the north, where she lived, while she was sleeping, and did not like her new surroundings at all. She kept rattling her cage, hoping to break the door open, but she was unable to because the bars were too strong for her. The steadfast door was probably due to the wizards that had caught her. She hadn’t really minded wizards in the past; she had even delivered a letter once for an old man that seemed rather kind. That wizard had never tried to put her in a cage, so she liked him. But these wizards were different. They kept on talking about how much money they were going to get for her, and they did not even bother to see if she or one of the other owls had any water. If they had checked, they would’ve seen that the water dish had spilled due to the rocking of the carriage they were riding in. Suddenly, her chance for escape arrived. The right wheel of the carriage hit a pothole in the ground and sent her cage flying through the air. When it hit the ground, the side split open, allowing the white bird to get away. She took off flying as fast as she could go, evading the red spells the wizards that had caught her were shooting at her. That was when she spotted a safe haven. There was a place on the ground not too far away that she could see perfectly, but that she knew the wizards would not be able to. The old wizard she had helped before had lived someplace similar, and she knew she would be safe there. She dived and disappeared from outside view. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwr whghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwr whghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwr whghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg Harry was startled out of his lunch when he saw the beautiful white owl land on his window sill. Curious, he walked over and opened it, letting the white ball of feathers into the house. The bird swooped in and headed fast towards the sink, extremely thirsty after such a long time without water. Harry stared at her for a moment while she tried to communicate with him. “Are you thirsty?” Harry asked, finally figuring out what the bird wanted. He was amazed when the white owl hooted in response! ‘What kind of owl would just fly into a house to get water?’ he asked himself. Shaking the question, he headed over and turned on the tap before filling a small dish with cool water. The owl eagerly began drinking for several minutes. When she was done, she flew over to Harry’s shoulder and hooted a thanks, which Harry seemed to understand. “You’re welcome,” Harry said to her. The owl nipped at his ear in an affectionate manner. “Would you like me to show you around?” Harry asked. The owl hooted affirmatively. So it came to pass that Harry had his first conversation with someone other than himself for the first time in a month. In the end, the snow white owl decided that it might be nice to stick around for a while. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg “Did you find anything, professor?” It had been a month and a half since the incident in the Department of Accidental Magical Reversal. Arthur was adapting well to his new job at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department. It didn’t pay as well as his old job, which meant that, even if he would be able to bring enough food for his extensive family, they wouldn’t be able to indulge themselves a whim but once every few years. Arthur had arrived at Hogwarts for his weekly meeting with the Headmaster. He had asked the same question five times already, and every time the question had been negative. However, this time the answer was different. “I'm afraid nothing specific right now, but I do have my suspicions, based on certain facts I’ve discovered,” Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry replied. “So you are making progress?” “Indeed, I’ve made some progress, though what I have learnt is a bit... troubling.” The headmaster had a grave look on his face as he pondered the problem once more. “Is it what we feared?” Arthur asked shakily, not wanting to speak the thought that it could be Voldemort himself that was causing the disturbances. “No, I don't think so.” Dumbledore answered thoughtfully and sli(this word sli is not a word and I am not sure what you are meaning maybe slyly). Seeing the look of curiosity on the red headed man's face, he decided to tell a little more. Perhaps it would be good to bounce his idea off someone else, anyway. “Arthur, what I'm about to tell you must stay between us and only us,” Dumbledore continued seriously. Arthur Weasley nodded his head in understanding. “When you first came to me, I immediately left to investigate the location myself. Since Godric's Hollow is still under the Fidelius charm, I was unable to investigate the house itself, but over the next several days, I spent a bit of time looking through the surrounding areas.” “What about Sirius Black? He was the Potter's secret keeper, wasn't he? Perhaps we could get him out of Azkaban, temporarily of course, and have him let you in,” Arthur interrupted. “I'm getting to that, Arthur. Having thought of this, and not having another alternative, I visited Mr. Black this morning in prison in an attempt to get him to tell me the secret to gaining access to the location. What I discovered was quite startling. It seems that Mr. Black was not the secret keeper to the Potters after all.” “WHAT?” The revelation was enough to startle anyone witch or wizard that had been alive at the time. If it had been anyone beside Dumbledore that had told Arthur, he would have declared them a liar immediately. “I'm afraid it's true. I took a bit of Veritaserum with me to help with the interrogation. As you know, Sirius Black was denied a trial by the Minister. Had they followed procedure with his case, I have no doubt that Sirius Black would be a free man right now.” “I don't understand. What happened with Pettigrew then?” “It seems that Peter Pettigrew is still alive somewhere and that he was the Potter's secret keeper. Unfortunately, I do not have the leverage at the moment to free Mr. Black until Pettigrew is found and tried. I did discover something that might help us in our search. It seems that Peter, Mr. Black, and Mr. Potter managed to train themselves as Animagi, without registering themselves, of course. Peter's form was a rat. Unfortunately, this also means that there are thousands of places that Peter could be hiding. Of course, the rat in question would be missing a finger, so that may be helpful.” Arthur nodded his understanding. “But alas, we have sidetracked a bit here. Back to Godric's Hollow. As it is still under the Fidelius, we can assume that whoever has taken up residence there was told the secret by Peter before that terrible night. As Remus Lupin, the last of the group of four, was the suspected spy, he was not told the secret. With Sirius Black in prison, it is not possible for him to be at Godric’s Hollow. Had it been Voldemort the one at the house, with the levels of magic that were detected, he would have surely started again with his attacks and Death Eaters would have been seen again, and I doubt that Peter Pettigrew would have been able to display such magical outbursts, because he was always a weak person in magical terms. So that leaves only one person…” The headmaster paused here, not wanting to speak about the only possibility that could fit the role. It was too crazy to even consider, wasn't it? “Who is that one person?” Arthur was sitting on the edge of his seat, racking his brain to come up with it. “Harry Potter, of course.” hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghp gwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghp gwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghp gwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg Harry Potter was indeed the one to have taken up residence in Godric's Hollow, the home of his late parents, and now his own. Lately, another being had taken shelter there as well, but this visitor was not human. The snowy white owl that had appeared at the kitchen window one day had swooped in and never left the house and its surroundings. Harry was enjoying the company of his new friend. He hadn't even practiced magic in several days. Instead, he spent his time playing with the owl. He had remembered a game that he had seen people playing with their dogs in the park once: fetch. It had taken a lot of coaxing out of the dignified bird, but she had eventually given in. The game was to see if she could catch the stick before it would hit the ground. Of course, there were other games to play as well. It had been Harry's first time to play hide and seek; it was funny that his foe had not been another child, but an avian. The game was really fun for both of them. Of course, the owl had the advantage, as she could fit into places Harry couldn't even see, like a hollow trunk, but Harry could also do things like close doors, and she wouldn't be able to open them. He remembered the first time he did that, and he still cracked up when he remembered it. The crazy bird had seemed to sense him somehow, and nearly pecked a hole in the door trying to get in. The main problem both of them had was the lack of a real communication between them. However, the owl was so intelligent that she could understand human speech perfectly, and she always knew what Harry was talking about. Whenever Harry asked her a question, she always replied with a hoot, which depending on the tones could mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’. The young boy sometimes failed to distinguish what the owl’s answers meant, but that happened less times as time passed. “Well, what do you want to do?” Harry asked the bird the evening of Dumbledore's conversation with Arthur and the revelations that the latter was told. He received a nonchalant hoot in reply. He hadn't really thought of naming the bird yet. Names weren't really needed, after all. There was only the two of them there, and although he would talk to himself sometimes, the clever owl always seemed to know when his thoughts were directed towards her. “How about a game?” There was a hoot to the affirmative. “Ok, how about this. I saw a couple people playing this once, and it seemed interesting. One of us thinks of something and the other has to figure it out by asking questions. You have twenty questions to do so.” There was a hoot that seemed to be a mix between 'yes' and 'how in the world are we going to play that?' Harry ignored it, though, already trying to think of something. Finally he settled on the colour blue. “Ok, I've got something. Ask your questions,” Harry said to the owl, who just gave him a strange look. Harry realized his mistake: it had been so long since he had been around other humans, and sometimes he just forgot what it was like. It was like a part of him was trying to turn his feathery friend into another child — a human child. He sighed deeply before speaking again. “Ok, you think of something, then.” There was a moment of silence and then a hoot that Harry interpreted as her being ready. “Ok, is it blue?” - negative hoot. “Is it alive?” - negative hoot. “Can you wear it?” - positive hoot. “Is it a shirt?” - negative hoot. “Is it socks?” - negative hoot. “Do you wear it on your head?” - positive hoot. “Is it a hat?” - negative hoot. “Is it glasses?” - negative hoot. Harry frowned trying to think of more questions. He realized he'd created a hole in his thoughts. “Can you wear it other places on your body?” - positive hoot. Harry paused to consider his thoughts once more. “Do you wear it on your legs?” - negative hoot. Harry was stumped. He had already used half of his questions, but still had the slightest idea what it was. “Can you wear it on your shirt?” - the answering hoot sounded sort of like a 'yes,' and an indignant 'why would anyone do such a thing?' “Is it made of fabric?” - negative hoot. Harry was really stumped now. “Is it made of metal?” - another negative hoot made Harry's frown deepen even further in concentration. He was really enjoying this. What in the world was the little owl thinking? “Is it made of wood?” - negative hoot. Harry was grasping at straws. He only had six more questions left. “Is it made of plastic?” - negative hoot. “Is it valuable?” - very negative hoot. “Is it made?” - positive hoot. “Is it hair?” - negative hoot. Harry wasn't sure hair was that valuable, but he thought he would give it a chance anyway. Only two questions left. “Is it green?” Harry remembered he had only asked one colour, so he thought he might get some sort of clue here. Surprisingly, the hoot was positive. Harry thought hard to consider his last question. It could be worn, but it wasn't a good idea. It was green. It wasn't valuable. It was made, but not of the normal substances. It was primarily on one's head, probably. In a flash of inspiration, Harry asked his last question. “Is it a bogey?” There was silence. Then the little owl erupted into a sound that had to be the equivalent of laughter. Harry couldn't help but join in. What a crazy little owl this was. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrw hghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrw hghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrw hghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg Arthur Weasley arrived home still thinking very hard about his meeting with the headmaster. The revelations had been a lot to take in: Sirius Black was innocent, Peter Pettigrew was the real culprit of both the murders and the treason, and Harry Potter was the likely candidate for being the one disrupting the Ministry’s sensors. Dumbledore had told him later in the meeting that he had been able to confirm that Harry had left his relatives’ house nearly a month before by unknown means. Percy Weasley was the first of the Weasley family to greet his father when he saw the man walking through the door. He had been sitting on the floor in the living room playing with his pet rat, Scabbers, which he had found six years ago in the garden and had called him that because it lacked of one of its fingers. Arthur looked down to greet his son, but his gaze focused instead on the small ball of fur in his son's hands. 'Surely it couldn't be,' Mr. Weasley thought to himself. ‘Could it be so easy? Have we been harbouring a murderer for the last several years without knowing it?’ Arthur forced his face into a smile, in order to not make the rat suspicious. “Hello Percy. How was your day?” He asked, trying to find a good excuse to carefully examine the rat's feet. “Pretty good, dad. How was yours?” “Oh, another great day in the department. Muggles are so fascinating,” Arthur replied with a smile. When he looked casually at the rat’s right paw and saw that it lacked from one of his fingers, he nearly gasped in surprise, but stopped himself before anything alerted the Animagus. While thinking about what to do with the rat, an idea struck him. “Hey Percy, have you been listening to the wireless today?” “Not really, dad. Why?” “Well it seems they have caught some rats not too far from here that were carrying a strange disease of some sort. It only affects rats, but it is not very harmful, just uncomfortable. I think we should get Scabbers checked out soon, so that we can make sure that he hasn’t caught it,” Arthur said, lying easily. He didn't like it, but if the rat was really Peter Pettigrew, it was a necessary precaution. Percy stood up immediately and practically threw the rat into his father hands. “We should do that at once! Oh, I hope there isn't anything wrong with Scabbers!” “No worries son. Why don't I take care of that right away?” “Sure dad. I'll just go upstairs and grab my coat.” “No need son. I'll be back in a jiffy.” With that, Arthur Weasley Apparated away to Hogwarts for the second time that day. This time he had a companion, though. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpg wrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpg wrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpg wrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg As Arthur Weasley appeared outside of Hogsmeade, he conjured a small metallic lock box to keep his rodent company in. After placing the rat in the box, he quickly cast several silencing and locking charms on the box in an attempt to keep the little bugger from knowing exactly what was happening to it. Inside the box, the rodent in question was slightly confused. Ok, extremely confused and worried. He knew he wasn’t infested with some rodent disease, but he couldn’t exactly pop back into himself and explain that. He just hoped that whatever place he was heading into would not discover his… special circumstances. It didn’t even occur to him that it was all a setup. Surely the Weasley’s weren’t smart enough to figure that out, were they? Arthur soon found himself waiting outside the Headmaster’s door with the conjured box in his hands. “Come in Arthur. Back so soon?” Albus Dumbledore greeted his old friend. “I’m afraid so. I have some good news and some bad news, Professor.” “Oh, and what is that?” The headmaster’s eyes glittered with curiosity. He couldn’t imagine the extension of the things that were about to be revealed to him. “I believe I may have located our missing rat.” “Is that so? I assume that said rat is right now inside your box?” “Yes, Professor.” Dumbledore accepted the box as Mr. Weasley offered it and sat it on his desk. After casting several charms he looked up gravely at the red headed man. “It appears you were correct, Arthur. Where ever did you locate him so quickly?” “He was living under my very roof,” Arthur explained briefly. It sickened him that a murderer had been sharing his home for the last few years without anyone even suspecting him. “Some time after You-Know-Who disappeared, my son Percival found a rat in the garden, and it had recently lost one of its fingers. He asked us if he could take him in and have him as his pet, and since we were so happy for the end of the war, we let him do so. As you know, he is going to start at Hogwarts next year, and I suppose that Pettigrew reached us so that he could hear any news about You-Know-Who regaining his strength back.” “I see. Well, from what I can tell, the animal contained in this box is indeed an Animagus. The fact that it’s a rat with a missing digit points that you are correct in your guess.” Silence settled on the office as both men considered this information. Dumbledore was trying to decide what to do. He had in his possession the secret keeper for the Potters, and someone who may be able to bring some light over the mystery that had been plaguing him for the last several weeks. Arthur, on the other hand, was facing a much more complicated situation. As an employee of the ministry, he had harboured in his ignorance a man thought to be dead. That same man had committed several murders, and was an accomplice to at least two others, and the attempted murder of a little boy. This said nothing of the fact that the boy in question was the Boy-Who-Lived himself. Throw in the imprisonment of an innocent man without a trial, and the ministry would be in a really big mess. Not to mention his family. There were so many angles to consider that trying to think about them all was making his head spin. “What I suggest is that we take our little friend to Godric’s Hollow and attempt to gain entry there to find if it is really Harry Potter the one living there. Once that is accomplished, we can turn Pettigrew over to the Ministry, and Mr. Potter will surely be sent to live with Sirius Black,” Dumbledore said, breaking the silence and naming the main concerns that would be solved with this appearance. “Ok, Professor. I’m a little worried about the mess this is going to cause the Ministry,” Arthur pointed out. “I realize that, but rest assured that no matter what happens, you have my full support, Arthur. I’ll make sure nobody tries to retaliate on you or your family over this.” Mr. Weasley immediately felt much more comfortable with the situation. “First let’s see what sort of condition our little ‘friend’ is in, shall we?” Dumbledore said with more than a little twinkle. He carefully lifted the charms that Arthur had placed on the box and opened it, dropping the animal on the floor. The fat rat inside the box was completely disoriented. He was in a most unexpected place, one that he remembered from his past as a man, when he still had real friends. The rat forced himself to remain calm so that he could hold his rodent form, but, unfortunately for him, in this case he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. It took one blue spell murmured under his breath for Dumbledore to reveal the rat for what and who he was: Peter Pettigrew. “Well hello, Peter. Fancy seeing you here,” Dumbledore said. Peter just look stunned and didn’t know how to react to the sudden situation. When he finally was able to gain control of himself, he tried to run, but found his feet frozen to the ground, either from fear or another spell from the wizened man standing in front of him; it was probably the former. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to move around freely,” Dumbledore said coldly, as ropes appeared out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around the short bald man. Dumbledore took a moment to inspect his work and casted a charm on the ropes. “Ah, very good. These ropes will prevent him from trying to change back into a rat. Now, we have one side trip before our final destination. Please grab hold of this, Arthur.” Dumbledore was holding out another piece of rope that Arthur assumed he had turned into a Portkey. Grabbing onto it, Dumbledore took hold of Peter and in the next moment, they had disappeared. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrw hghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrw hghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrw hghpgwrwhg Harry Potter was beginning to get a bit bored. He hadn’t studied his magic in several days now, and even playing with his friend was beginning to wear on him a little bit. He needed to find something to occupy himself with, and he didn’t think it would be found in his current location. He was laying on the sofa, listening to some music and dozing when for the first time in quite a while, the old woman that had spoken to him before made her presence known again. “Look outside the house,” said the feminine voice. Harry didn’t even question it and headed over to the window. He saw the old, long bearded man he had seen days before, but this time he wasn’t alone. There was a tall redheaded man and a short bald man bound in ropes there with him. “Who are they?” Harry asked aloud. “You can figure it out if you think about it,” said the answer in his head. “They want in.” “Why would they want that?” Harry was confused. One of the men was obviously a prisoner for the others, but why would anyone bring a prisoner to him? The bound man was faintly familiar, though, but Harry couldn’t place him. “They are looking for you,” The woman explained. “I don’t want to see them,” Harry said, worried that he might become a prisoner as well. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be where he was, and anyone found him here, they would take him away. No matter how bored he was, leaving his home was not yet something he was prepared to do. The woman, however, chuckled in response, giving the sense that she knew more about the situation but was holding back. “Don’t worry; they can’t come in.” “Why not?” Harry asked, confused. He could see them easily. Why couldn’t they see him? “You can figure that out on your own, but I will give you a hint. The fat man is the rat that left the foot prints in your fathers study. He thinks he should be able to get in again, but he can’t now. Do you know why?” Harry was silent as he considered the woman’s question: the man was a rat, which would have been difficult, unless he was an Animagus, a wizard who was able to transform into an animal whose form was determined by the personality traits of the wizard, and some of the animal traits would be trespassed to the wizard. Then, in a flash of insight, he realised which the answer was. “That ward I put up against rats?” “Exactly! Quite ingenious really, that such a simple ward prevents him from entering. That question is going to leave them all a bit perplexed in the outside world, but you don’t need to worry about that. The important thing right now is that you get back to you r studies. You have much to learn, and time is always ticking away, little one.” The woman spoke with humour before her voice took on a more serious tambour. “I’m having a bit of a problem with that,” Harry said, although he was sure that the woman already knew that. “And what problem is that?” the woman asked, though her voice was stern like that of a grandmother scolding him. “Most of the texts are too advanced for me — I just don’t understand them,” Harry sighed. “Well perhaps you just need to get a better book,” was the unexpected answer. “Which book is that?” hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg While the woman answered him, outside the manor Dumbledore was beginning to get frustrated with Pettigrew. He had been asking the man about Godric’s Hollow for the last ten minutes, but he had not said a thing about it, in spite of the older wizard’s insistence. “Tell us the secret!” he demanded, losing his normal composition and giving in to his frustrations, some of them that were six years old. “Look, I’m telling you the charm isn’t the same. It doesn’t work for me any more. I don’t know why you want in, but whoever is in there now has put their own charms up. There is nothing I can do,” Peter explained exasperatedly, cowering from the angry man. Dumbledore decided to give up trying to get the information voluntarily and entered the man’s mind. He knew the secret to the Fidelius would be beyond his reach, but he could at least confirm the rat’s explanation about the new wards. Dumbledore quickly discovered that the man had been telling the truth and he broke the connection. “Well, I guess it’s time to head to the Ministry, then,” Dumbledore said, causing the man to stiffen and once again gave a futile attempt to escape. In another moment, however, it didn’t matter as all three had disappeared and reappeared at the main entrance to the ministry of magic. hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg Back at the house, Harry was relieved to see that the bothersome men had gone and he turned his attention back to what the woman had been telling him. “So let me get this straight, woman. The book I need was written by Prometheus himself and only has a rumoured existence. If it does exist, it is hidden in a castle in the middle of West Germany under wards that no one has ever been able to even locate, let alone break through. How in the world am I supposed to find such a thing?” Harry asked, wide eyed. In actuality, the woman had used much bigger and more difficult words to describe what it was he needed, but Harry hadn’t understood much of them. He had been able to gather that much, though. “That is correct, and I have no doubt that you will succeed. I know for a fact that the book exists and that you can easily get to it. You’ll just have to figure out how to do so by yourself, however. Have fun!” With that, the woman’s presence disappeared from his mind and Harry sat down, thinking hard. The woman had given him one clue to both of his mysteries: start at the beginning. By looking at all the facts surrounding how he got to his current location and also what he did after he got there, he would discover about the men outside and be able to retrieve the book he needed. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. For the first time since he had arrived, he thought back to the circumstances that had brought him there. He had been running from his cousin during the meal time. He had taken a wrong turn and was trapped in an ally. What happened next? A few minutes passed as Harry struggled to remember. Then he was successful. He had simply wished to be somewhere safe, although he had done so rather forcefully if his memory was correct. Perhaps all he needed to do to find the book was wish to be at the book’s location? Harry kept his eyes closed and began to chant: “I wish I was with Prometheus’s book.” Over and over again he repeated it. On his seventh round, he disappeared with a ‘pop.’ hpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhghpgw rwhghpgwrwhghpgwrwhg Hermione Jane Granger was having the time of her life. She was with her parents on their annual summer vacation and was currently spending time in West Germany. They had spent the afternoon traipsing around one of the countries’ many castles and soaking in the rich history of the place. The day, however, was to contain something that would bother Hermione for the next several years, something that she would never guess would be explained in a few years when something she had never thought about happened. The Granger family was with a group of other tourists about to leave a room. This was not strange at all, and everything was perfectly fine. Suddenly, however, Hermione heard a crack and a door appeared one of the walls where there hadn’t been one a moment ago. Hermione shook her head to clear it. That couldn’t have just happened. She obviously just hadn’t noticed it the first time she had looked around the room. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she made her way over to the door an opened it. The room on the other side was pretty large, but what caught her attention was the table in the middle with a large book sitting on it. When a boy who was standing up beside the table grabbed the book, she gasped out loud, drawing his attention to her. “Hermione, what are you doing?” Her father walked up behind her, startling her and making her turn around. “Hi daddy, I was just looking at this room. There is a boy in here, and I don’t think he is supposed to be here,” Hermione said. Her dad arrived at the door, and peered into the room. “What are you talking about, Hermione?” he asked confused. There wasn’t anyone in the room that he could see. “What?” Hermione asked, whipping around. Sure enough, the boy that she had seen was gone. How had he done that? “I know there was someone there, Dad.” “Perhaps you’re just getting tired, Hermione. Let me get your mom, and we’ll head back to the hotel to rest, ok dear?” her father asked with a concerned look. Hermione sighed, knowing that it was better to agree than to attempt to argue with him. Soon the Grangers were headed back to their hotel and away from the strange room and the strange boy. Hermione thought both things were in her past; She had no way of knowing that the boy would be entering her life once again in a few years, and that a few years after that, she would be back in the summer, spending much time in the very room she had just left. |
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