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Harry Potter and the Pewter Owl | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Pre-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure, General Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 20 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** After the events of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, a mysterious object comes into Harry's possession. Where did it come from, and what is its purpose? Are there more like it? Why is Harry seeing fireflies? And what does it all have to do with Ginny? Hitcount: Story Total: 27821; Chapter Total: 5420 |
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and the PEWTER OWL an alternate fifth year by the mystery tramp Chapter Three A Midsummer Nightmare Slowly, slowly, the stormy gray sky fell behind an inky blue-blackness outside Harry's window, out over the houses of Privet Drive – slowly, slowly, Harry felt the lump in his stomach grow, tighten, move up into his throat – slowly, slowly, he began to realize that there was something wrong. Harry lay on his bed, waiting, waiting, listening to the rain as it fell, steady on the roof above, harsh against the windowpane – a thousand tiny tick-tocks as the day drifted further and further away without word from the Weasleys. Ron had said they would be coming to get him on the Thirtieth. A glance at the clock on his bedside table told Harry it was almost midnight, now – almost the Thirty-First, almost his birthday. It wasn't like the Weasleys to just not show up –What could be going on? What could be keeping them? A most unwelcome thought floated, unbidden, into Harry's mind. Surely – surely it wasn't – But Harry could not help it now – could not help but think the worst, could not help but see it in his mind's eye: the Dark Mark hanging high over the Burrow, shimmering against the night sky, terrifically terrible screams tearing out from inside the house – Mrs. Weasley – the twins – Ginny – Ron... The more he thought it, the clearer he could see it – the very outline of the Mark, so vivid, so real – the light of its emerald stars glistening through the raindrops, reflecting and refracting in a thousand different directions. It would have been beautiful, if it weren't so terrifying. And Harry was running, now, running towards the Burrow through the slanting rain, running towards the Mark, running towards the screams – he ran, and ran, and – A bolt of lightning – almost lazy, almost slow – almost doodled its way from the sky, sketching down the blackness and striking the Burrow with a grim sort of finality. A second later, the thunder burst into Harry's ears – almost an afterthought – and Harry felt a sizzling pain in his forehead, as though the sound had just been too much, just too much, and his head was going to split. He fell to the ground. He gasped, gasped, and caught his breath – and looked up. The Burrow was on fire. The flames curled upward, strong and defiant against the downpour. The greenish world was suddenly golden, as the light of the blaze overtook that of the Mark. Harry couldn't move – motionless on the wet grass, stuck in the almost-mud – and then he was shaking, shaking, like an arm on his shoulder was jostling him awake, violent, urgent – "Harry, Harry, wake up!" Harry's eyes snapped open – it was cold, he was freezing, he was covered in sweat. When had he fallen asleep? More important, perhaps – who was standing above his bed? In a panic, Harry scrambled for his glasses and his wand on the bedside table – raised the latter threateningly, and shoved the former roughly upon his nose. A harsh whisper: "Well – that's certainly one way to wake up..." Another brief moment of disorientation, and then Harry recognized the man standing just above him, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was his godfather, Sirius Black. "Sirius!" Harry whisper-yelled. "What on earth are you –" "No time to explain now, Harry," said Sirius, rummaging in the pocket of his robe for a moment – he pulled something out and shoved it towards Harry. "Go on," he said. "Take it." "What is it?" Harry asked, eyes still not quite adjusted to being awake – to him, the object in Sirius' hand could have been anything. "It's a Portkey –" "– to the Burrow?" Perhaps there had been nothing to worry about after all–? But Sirius quickly shook his head – his shaggy hair, sopping wet, tossing water all all over the place as it flopped back and forth – and he said: "To Hogwarts." Harry blinked, and his breath sort of stuck in his throat – Hogwarts, in the middle of summer? What was going on? (The Burrow was on fire, said a terrible voice in the back of Harry's mind.) "But –" "Shh!" And the room fell perfectly silent as Sirius put a finger to his lips, and turned his head, his ear towards the door. They were both still for a moment, and then: "Did you hear that?" he whispered. "Hear what?" "A creak," said Sirius, almost to himself, barely loud enough to be heard. He swallowed, almost louder than he spoke. "Someone on the stairs..." Then: "What are you still doing here? " "But – but what's going on?" Sirius merely shook his head once again, vigorous, decisive, and shoved the Portkey – the whatever-it-was – into Harry's hand. An eternity seemed to pass before anything happened – Harry heard a slow squeak from the door, the knob being carefully turned, and Sirius raised his wand – and finally, that unpleasant sort of something pulled behind Harry's belly button, and the familiar words flashed through his head – let's just take it together... And Harry's bedroom was gone in a swirl. Harry found himself in Gryffindor Tower, spread face-up on the floor of the common room. It took him a moment to place himself, because despite having spent a great deal of his four years at Hogwarts in this room, he had never really looked at the ceiling before. He lay motionless for a minute, trying to fully grasp that he was indeed back at Hogwarts, a month early – that this, at least was not a dream. Finally, he stood – and wondered if he was alone. There was a fire in the fireplace, but the House Elves could have lit that – there was clearly no one else in the common room now, at least. But surely they wouldn't have sent him here to wait all by himself, would they? ...to wait for what, exactly, he didn't want to think about... But of course, he had to think about it. There had to be some explanation for everything that was going on – some reason he was sent to Hogwarts rather the Burrow – some reason the Weasleys never came... Maybe they were here as well, somewhere? Harry practically ran up to his dormitory, leaping up two steps at a time, hoping against hope that he would find Ron inside, snoring away in his four-poster – but the dormitory was just as empty as the common room. Harry went back down, slower, deflated – he had been almost certain that Ron would be there... He decided that the only thing to do was to find Dumbledore – surely he would be able to explain what was going on. He headed for the portrait hole, realizing just before he climbed through that he had neither his Invisibility Cloak nor the Marauder's Map with him – in fact, he didn't have anything at all. All of his belongings were still in his bedroom at Privet Drive – his trunk, his clothes, even his Firebolt, which he had bizarrely flown through Number Four just that afternoon... they were all still in his room, with Sirius. Or rather – with Sirius, and whoever was about to come through the door... Figuring that he couldn't exactly get in trouble before the school year even started, Harry climbed out of the portrait hole – startling the Fat Lady out of her sleep, and alarming her quite a bit, understandably. "Why did you wake – what the bloody – what – what on earth are you doing here, boy?" Harry ignored her and set off towards Dumbledore's office. The halls felt, strangely, even more deserted than they usually did in the middle of the night – or maybe that was the feeling of the empty castle as a whole. Anyway, it was supremely strange to be without his cloak – he wondered if this was what it felt like for other students who snuck out, people who'd never seen an Invisibility Cloak in their lives – the Weasley twins surely hadn't let that stop them in their sneaking about... The Weasleys. (The Burrow was on fire...) Harry quickened his pace and soon arrived at the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Just as he began to worry that, of course, he would need to know the password, he gargoyle jumped to the side, the wall opened, and – And there, emerging just at that very moment from the spiral staircase, was – "Ron!" exclaimed Harry, and Ron – who had been looking rather dejectedly at his shoes – snapped his head up and gaped at Harry. He stopped in his tracks. "Harry! When the bloody hell did you –?" "Just now," said Harry. "Don't mean to intrude on this lovely reunion," said a voice from behind Ron, which belonged to one of the twins, "but could you please move your fat arse out of the doorway? You try standing in place on a moving stair..." Ron moved out of the way with a murmured apology, but he just sort of stared at Harry. Fred, George, and Ginny emerged from behind Ron. "What is going on?" said Harry. "All I know is that Siri–is that Snuffles, he–" "Best not talk about anything just yet," said George, glancing up and down the corridor. "Let's get back to the common room, shall we?" said Fred. "Yeah," said Ron, and they started walking back the way Harry had come – this time, it was perhaps even stranger, because not only was Harry not invisible, he was now in a group of five, and how often does one casually stroll down a corridor in a large group, in the middle of the night? They walked in an unbearable sort of silence – Harry had a thousand questions he longed to just shout out at them all, but instead he just walked. Finally, after what felt like ages – surely it had not taken him quite so long the first time? – they reached the Fat Lady's portrait. "A whole lot of you, eh? And what exactly do you all think you are doing here, and it's not even August yet? I –" But before she could continue, Fred said the password, which Dumbledore must have given them, and she reluctantly swung her portrait open. The twins climbed in first – then Ron – and then Ginny went to climb, but stopped a minute, which is when Harry noticed that her hands were full: she was holding a small wooden chest, with an intricate sort of pattern adorning its lid. Harry wondered on earth what it was, and why she had it – and how he had managed not to notice it at all, the whole way from Dumbledore's office. Ginny placed the box in the portrait hole ahead of her, then pulled herself up after it. Finally, Harry climbed in as well, and when he had, the Fat Lady swung the portrait closed behind him – a lazy, graceful arc – and got herself comfortable within her portrait. Soon, she was snoring once again – perfectly peaceful, as though nothing had happened at all. |
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