Harry Potter and the War of Time

Harry Potter and the War of Time

Great philosophers have said that at the brink of every war comes the great calm. This is a time when all is silent and peaceful, when the oceans reflect the pale moon upon its surface, when the wind brushes upon the trees, but this is the time when living souls know something terrible is about to start. In Surrey, an area considered quite rural, down a street known as ‘Privet Drive’, sat a quite little house. If you looked upon this house you would see perfection, every window sparkling clean reflecting the shining sun, every bush trimmed to a perfect rectangle and every blade of grass cut with precision. Even though some might say that this house looked eerily perfect there was one thing that seemed out of place. Upon the bottle green grass lay a boy wearing a very worn out pair of jeans, obviously quite a few inches too short, and a navy blue T-shirt infused with many holes. He looked very out of place in a road like this. One might even say such a level of scruffiness was highly inappropriate in a prestigious place like this.

This boy was Harry Potter; a Muggle might say ‘Harry who?’ but there lives a world beyond which Muggles are aware. In the eyes of everyday Muggles, wizards would be perceived as very strange people indeed. If you asked these magic folk who Harry Potter was, many would crack a smile and say ‘the boy who lived’. Harry had bottle green eyes and scruffy jet-black hair. He lived with his uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Dursley, oh, and one should not forget his cousin Dudley. Dudley was a fairly tall boy and from one look at him one could tell he wasn’t the nicest of characters. When Harry was younger, Dudley would always poke fun at him and try to beat him up. Mr and Mrs Dursley were just as bad, forcing him to live in a cupboard under the stairs for most of his life. Not anymore however, for they knew one thing about Harry that they feared could be found out, and what would the neighbours think! Harry Potter attended a school in the far north of the UK. His school wasn’t like ordinary schools; it was a grand castle next to a shimmering lake. Known as ‘Hogwarts’, this is where Harry went to school, a school of magic! Harry Potter was a wizard. Luckily for Harry, Mrs. Dursley and Dudley had gone away to Paris for the weekend for Dudley’s birthday. Dudley kicked and screamed so he could go and even cried until Mr. Dursley decided to sacrifice his place in the car so more of his friends could come along. However this just left Harry and Mr. Dursley alone, a dangerous combination.

Harry slowly lifted himself up off the grass and slid his hand into his jean pocket and removing a broken mirror. As he looked into this broken mirror he could feel his emotions building up inside of him. He wanted to let all his sorrow and anger out but he didn’t want the Dursleys to get the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He took a deep breath and swallowed his emotions back down. Harry looked into the mirror begging to see Sirius in it, just to see his face again; he wanted to see him smiling, if only for a second, but all Harry could see was his own reflection. Harry did his best to fix the mirror with Spellotape but ‘who am I kidding’ thought Harry, ‘he’s dead and he’s not coming back…’

A voice coming from the open living room window shouted ‘Potter! Here, now!’ Harry drew his breath and pocketed the mirror once again. He walked into the house wondering what Uncle Vernon was going to complain about this time.

‘What did I tell you about that ruddy owl Potter! I said to keep that thing out of my sight!’ said Uncle Vernon.

Harry held in the anger that was ready to burst, he would have liked to have seen Uncle Vernon blow up like a balloon just as Aunt Marge did three years ago. The Ministry of Magic had let him off a fair few times for practising magic out of school, he wasn’t ready to push his luck; well not yet anyway.

Harry replied, ‘My owl’s name is Hedwig and I can’t keep her locked up in my room all day, she needs to stretch his wings from time to time!’

Uncle Vernon took a deep breath; he also seemed to be trying to hold in his rage. ‘Well your ruddy owl came in this room and dropped this on me making me spill my ruddy tea all over this new carpet!’

Harry guessed Uncle Vernon was referring to the letter currently clutched in his hand.

‘This letter is from someone called Mrs. Grogger asking if we would allow you to stay with them for the remainder of the summer. Who is this Mrs. Grogger anyway? Sounds like a tramps name to me; your kind, obviously’.

Harry was too concerned to take insult, he was thinking who this Mrs. Grogger was then suddenly it clicked. ‘Mrs. Granger, she’s one of my friend’s mums’

Uncle Vernon let out a snort which sounded a cross between a pig and a choking donkey. ‘Well you can reply to this Mrs. Grainder and tell her that I give you permission!’ said Mr. Dursley with a gleeful expression on his face, obviously glad he was able to get rid of Harry for the remainder of the summer.

Suddenly all the sad thoughts he had suddenly disappeared; he was happier than he had been for weeks. All Harry wanted to do was leave the house and see his two closest friends again, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Harry leapt up the stairs and round the corner into his room; lying on his bed was another wax sealed envelope tied to a proud looking owl’s leg. Harry rushed over to the owl untied the envelope from its leg and gave the owl a bowl of owl treats and a dish filled with water from Hedwig’s cage. The owl hooted appreciatively and drank some water, then spread its wings and flew gracefully out the window. Harry seized the envelope and ripped it open; it was from Hermione!

Harry folded the letter neatly and having read the letter his spirit was lifted, he felt a broad grin coming on his face. He couldn’t wait to see Ron and Hermione again. Harry couldn’t wait to see Ron again; he wanted to know about all the latest news and what was going on. Harry didn’t hear much news over the summer and all letters from Ron and Hermione lacked content. Even on the Muggle news there was still nothing that could possibly link to Voldemort. In fact, the news was surprisingly quiet. Every now and then, Harry would receive letters from Moody, checking up on him. As usual there was no content that could be reffered to as news. He had seen Mrs. Figgs about, but she never stopped to say hello, she only smiles at Harry as she passes by. Harry had also taken out a subscription of the ‘Daily Prophet’. The biggest news that Harry read about was the firing of Cornelius Fudge as the Minister of Magic. The Wizengamot ruled him incompetent due to his refusal to accept Voldemort’s return previously when Dumbledore informed him, that he had indeed returned. Only when he saw for himself Voldemort Disaparate in front of many witnesses did he come to his senses. The curious thing was a few days after his firing from his position, he suddenly disappeared; no mention had since been heard of him. Dumbledore was once again offered the position as Minister of Magic but politely declined, as previously, so Amelia Bones had been voted in as new minister of magic. Harry was pleased at this news as it was Madame Bones who allowed Harry to walk free after defending himself and Dudley from Dementors when they intruded into Privet drive. She was, in Harry’s opinion, a woman who is fair and good judgement.

However from all the news Harry had heard this summer Fudge’s disappearance was probably the most important, however according to the ‘Daily Prophet’ he was in hiding incase Voldemort’s supporters decided to kidnap him. Apart from that all was quiet on the news front; Harry was expecting to see death and destruction all over the news, but there was nothing. He put the letter in his trunk and started packing. He took his books from under the loose floorboard and dumped them in his trunk. Harry was happy knowing he was going to see his two best friends tomorrow. He put on his pyjamas and climbed into bed. He put his glasses on the bedside table and turned of the lamp. As he was looking out of the window at the pale moon he knew he couldn’t get to sleep; he was too excited, he couldn’t wait to see the Order, Hermione and Ron; he wanted to find out what’d been happening whilst he was stuck in Privet Drive. The thought that had previously been haunting him every night had popped back into his head: why was there no death and destruction? Why was it so quiet? Why hadn’t Voldemort started the war yet?

‘This is it’, thought Harry, ‘this is the quiet before the storm’.