Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch

Harry glanced across the kitchen in boredom. It was only seven o'clock in the morning, and he had already finished making breakfast for his aunt, uncle and cousin. He had set the table in the manner his Aunt Petunia had always demanded; blue and white flowers in a clear crystal vase, napkins folded in a certain way under the sterling silver cutlery. The blinds always had to be slightly pulled up, just letting enough light in, and the wash rag had to be put on the faucet a certain way. This was morning routine for Harry. He would wake up, make breakfast for the Dursleys, and wait for them to get there and devour the breakfast without any gratitude or notice of him being there. Harry was always made to be sat facing away from the television, eating his dry bread and cheese in silence. Today was no different.

He could already hear Uncle Vernon carrying his overweight self to the breakfast table, grunting unhappily as he saw Harry.

"This breakfast better not be cold, boy. Certainly you don't want more chores?" he said in a warning tone.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied quietly. He took the pan of heated omelette and very carefully placed it on his uncle's plate. If he even got one crumb on the placemats. . . .

"Go do your chores. I'll serve Petunia and Dudley."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, but he quickly disguised it with mock respect.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon. Thank you," he replied, swiftly exiting through the kitchen door.

He couldn't believe it. His uncle, who always made sure Harry had as much work as possible, was letting him skive off serving duty for the first time since he had been able to hold something and walk at the same time.

Ever since Harry's parents were murdered by the most foul and powerful wizard of the age, Lord Voldemort, Harry had lived with his begrudged aunt and uncle. They made him do all the housework, and his aunt never did a spot of cleaning or cooking in the house unless there were guests over. It had been work every day for ten straight years until he had been accepted to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was one of the best schools for young witches and wizards from as young to ten to as old as eighteen. There were seven years of school to work through, not going home until Christmas and Summer holidays.

But unlike most Muggle (non-magic) children, Harry looked forward to going to school. He rarely saw his friends over break, and his Muggle aunt and uncle were awful to him, his cousin Dudley being even worse. He had no friends outside of school, and everyone on the street was convinced he was a criminal from St. Brutus's School for Incurably Criminal Boys.

So, for the fifth summer since he started school, he was doing the amount of work that ten men would usually accomplish. He fixed things about in the house, he painted the shed every week, did the housework, and helped Dudley with his homework. Harry wanted none of this. All he wanted to do was be with his friends.

His two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, were most likely to be at his deceased godfather's old house, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, finishing up the cleaning that needed to be done so it was suitable for Headmaster Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. While they were most likely having fun there, having a friend to talk to and learning about what was going on, he was working himself to death in the rain outside. He thought it wasn't fair, and he wasn't about to let them think for one minute that he was happy where he was.

Finishing taking the garbage to the corner pick-up, he went back inside the house. There wasn't much to do today. He had been doing his chores so much that often didn't need doing more than three or four times a week. Of course, his Aunt Petunia always insisted there was something wrong with his work and that it needed to be done again.

He slowly tiptoed up the stairs to his messy bedroom. Toys of Dudley's from years ago still lay on the numerous shelves lined up on the walls. His clothes from previous nights lay sprawled about, and his homework was spread all over the floor as well. Ever since Mad-Eye Moody (an ex-Auror) had told the Dursleys to treat him right, they had been letting him so his homework without it being taken away as soon as his so-called family caught sight of it. He had only to study a few books in the one subject he was sure he had passed: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry took his quill from the floor (he had been using it to circle important or interesting things) and summoned his vivid red bottle of ink from under his bed. Over the summer, he had been practicing wandless magic - doing magic without the control of a wand. He had become pretty good at it so far. He had cast Dust Repellant all over the house so he wouldn't be constantly taking Aunt Petunia's horrid orange feather duster and making a fool of himself. He used heating charms to cook meals, and he used a heat-preserving charm to keep it warm. Now, he could even levitate or summon small things such as his ink bottle. Feeling rather proud of himself, he started on his letter to Ron and Hermione.

Ron and Hermione,

How are you doing at Grimmauld Place? I know you're there, Moody told me before he left two weeks ago. He's been coming to check every so often, seeing if I'm all right. I suppose I am, even if I am skeletally thin and still being forced to do chores every day that would normally never need be done if I wasn't here.

I am quite mad right now, what with you being together and myself here alone with no friends to talk to. I am sure you guys are probably having a grand snogfest in one of your rooms, while I am contemplating whether to magic myself over there. Why hasn't anyone owled me? I haven't even got my O.W.L. results yet, and McGonagall said I'd be getting them two weeks from the end of the year.

What are you guys doing there, anyway? Cleaning up the house for the precious Order that you can't join? Listening in on meetings and not telling me? I 'd suspect as much. You always neglect to tell me things because you dare not break your word to almighty Headmaster Dumbledore.

Sorry if I sounded rude. I'm pissed off that no one's come to get me yet. Dumbledore knows I hate it here, and nobody can get me at Grimmauld Place. Not to mention I'm bored as hell. We have no homework over the holidays and I have no O.W.L. results.

Your friend that's always in the dark,

Harry

P.S. - When is Sirius' funeral going to be? I thought Dumbledore would have organized one already, but maybe I put too much trust in him again.

After Harry decided that was exactly how he felt, he rolled up the yellowish parchment and magicked a green wax seal onto it - a stylish H with a lightning bolt behind it. He put it aside for now, realizing he should probably write to Dumbledore himself for answers.

'Why have I never done that before?' Harry thought, berating himself for being stupid. In all the years he'd wanted to know things, he had never owled Dumbledore. Ever. Settling into his chair properly (he had only been standing before), he summoned his dark green ink, thinking red might scare Dumbledore or something ridiculous like that. He was starting to become as paranoid as Alastor Moody. Thinking for a moment, he began to write.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I am sorry to bother you with an owl, but I have a few questions to ask. I ask only a moment or two of your time.

I haven't received my O.W.L. results yet. Professor McGonagall said I would have them by July 15^th, and it is July 17^th. I still haven't got any. Is there something wrong with the results? Have you lost them? Please tell me.

No one has owled me at all. I am starting to get worried. I've had no news, from anyone. Is Voldemort attacking? I think I deserve to know, since I am the one that needs to kill him, not to mention the only one who can.

Please owl back if you can.

Sincerely,

Harry

Once again, he put a wax seal onto his letter. He took the letter to Ron and Hermione and called Hedwig from outside.

"Hedwig!" he yelled outside.

In a flash of white feathers, his snowy owl flew over to him and stood dutifully at the windowsill.

"Here, girl...you take this one to Ron and Hermione, and this one to Professor Dumbledore, okay? I want you to stay at both places until they give you a letter back. Don't come back until you have both letters. Is that okay, Hedwig?" Harry asked of the owl, petting her head fondly with his finger. She nibbled on his finger affectionately, meaning yes. "Thank you, Hedwig." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an owl treat. Hedwig took it from his hand eagerly and swallowed it.

He tied the letters to her leg with one green ribbon and one red ribbon. As soon as he let go, she flew away into the north.

"Harrrrrry!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. Harry winced visibly. It wasn't every morning that his aunt yelled with that annoyingly high-pitched shriek of hers.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" he replied, trying to be polite.

"Come down here, right now! This is important!" she shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

What could be so important, Harry had no idea, but Harry still replied "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He quickly jogged out of his room and down the stairs. He heard her still shrieking madly and Uncle Vernon looked appalled and very frightened at the same time.

"Look at it! Look at the television! It's HIM! Lord Voldything! It's HIM!!!!" Uncle Vernon shouted, pointing madly at the T.V. Uncle Vernon was right. On the television, a newswoman was announcing something, and Lord Voldemort was pictured in the corner.

"Today, the Prime Minister has announced that the whole of Europe be on the alert. A terrorist who calls himself Lord Voldemort has sent England a message, and that message was an attack on the office of the Prime Minister. Fortunately, he was getting a coffee, and only arrived to see him vanish out of thin air with a crack. Our leader previously knew of this man, but did not know of him to be a threat until now. He said, 'I have had reason to believe for some time this madman was wandering about, but I did not know he would attack. I have reason now to tell England, Europe, and the entire world that nobody is safe unless precautions are taken. You will find more information on this later.'

All citizens that are watching this alert, please take necessary precautions. Do not open mail that is not self-addressed in the corner. Do not let strangers into your home. If you see this man, please call. . . ." and the newswoman continued, giving not-so-helpful information to the public.

"It's HIM! He's on OUR NEWS!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "Is...is he going...to attack here?"

A voice from the living space across from the kitchen spoke.

"Yes, he will most likely attack here. I am afraid that we will have to have you evacuated, Mrs. Dursley," the voice said gravely.

All three people in the kitchen turned to face the direction of which the voice came from. Sitting on their very own living room sofa was Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, happy and surprised at the same time, while still feeling a little angry from before.

"Hello, Harry. As I was saying, we need you evacuated immediately. Chances are Lord Voldemort will attack here and it is necessary that you are not here. You are the strongest form of protection I can give Harry, but that does not mean he can't attack the house from the outside. I must ask you to hold onto this," he said, pulling a cork stopper out of his pocket, "and wait for about a minute. It will take us to a place where we will be safe."

Petunia and Vernon looked at Dumbledore like he was insane, but still reached their hands out and held onto the cork stopper like it was gold.

"Harry, please go get your cousin and your things. I know you'll be able to get them down here quickly," he requested, eyes twinkling a bit. Harry had no idea how Dumbledore could possibly know about his wandless magic, but he went to get his cousin anyway.

"Dudley!! Get your useless ass out of bed! We have to go!" Harry shouted from his room. The lazy Dudley from the room opposite could be heard moaning and groaning about how eight thirty was much too early to be waking up. Harry levitated his things out of his room.

"Dudley! You only have thirty seconds! Hurry up!" he yelled from the middle of the stairs. He finally reached the living room where Dumbledore, his aunt, and uncle were holding the Portkey. Harry set his things down and made sure his trunk and owl cage were touching him.

"I assume you told my owl to stay at wherever you were and to wait for me?" Harry asked knowingly.

"Yes, I did."

Then, Dudley Dursley finally made it to the living room.

"Hold on to this, Dudley!" Aunt Petunia shrieked again. He put his fat hand on the cork stopper.

"Three, two, one. . . ." Dumbledore counted, and then Harry felt like he was being turned inside out from his navel.