Harry Potter and the Revival of the Wand Works

Chapter One

The Homecoming

Harry could not remember ever feeling so discouraged. He had almost forgotten, in the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament, that he would soon be heading back to Privet Drive for the summer holidays. But now, as he looked up the front steps and saw Uncle Vernon's company car in the driveway, he could no longer pretend that this summer would be all right. And surely Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be livid with rage at Harry's departure the year before, when the Weasleys had come bursting through the electric fireplace because they hadn't known that Floo Powder might not work with Muggle fireplaces. And the Ton-Tongue toffee - Harry was sure that they wouldn't have forgotten about that, either. All in all, it was looking like this summer might be even more dismal than the ones before it.

In the past, the Dursleys had picked Harry up at the train station out of obligation, but this year, they had not even bothered to show up at all, despite Harry's letter (that he sent by Muggle post, even though it had been very hard for him to find a Muggle post office) that he had sent several weeks before school was out. Stranded at Kings Cross, Harry had hailed a cab and tried to persuade the driver to accept a gold coin as payment, since Harry had never had any Muggle money in his life, much less to spend on a cab. The driver had at first been revolted that he had driven Harry all the way to Privet Drive from London when Harry didn't have any money, but the driver's eyes grew wide when Harry showed him the gold galleons that he had to pay with. He sincerely hoped that no one at the Ministry would hear about this; he wasn't positive, but it seemed very likely that it would be illegal to give Muggles wizard currency.

With a deep sigh, he lifted the knocker on the broad brown door and brought it down with three short raps. He was greeted, most unfortunately, by Dudley, whose diet of the previous year seemed to have inflated him rather than deflated him.

"Mum!" he exclaimed, "Harry's managed to get back here! Should I let 'im in?"

"Oh dear," Aunt Petunia sighed, as Harry sarcastically thought how glad he was that his feelings matched hers precisely. "I suppose we must. Call your father. He's at the office. He'll know exactly what to do with him..."

"Er - I'm sorry to intrude upon you like this, but I sent you a letter a few weeks ago, and I believe that it was clear that I was coming in on the train from Hog- I mean, my school, this morning, and since no one was there to pick me up, I just -"

"Oh, don't worry. We'll make you feel very welcome here," Aunt Petunia grinned, which was most unlike Aunt Petunia at all, and then, to make things even scarier, she said, "We have just ordered a new television set for you, and you may take all your schoolbooks and things upstairs to your room...We've been thinking, Harry, that since you are undoubtedly growing and you must have a lot of schoolwork this vacation, that we would refurnish your room so you'll be more comfortable."

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. Aunt Petunia, offering to help him? To make him comfortable? To actually let him do his homework? Astonishing. Some things were just too good to be true.

"Well, thank you, Aunt Petunia, but I think that I'll be just fine if my room is how it is. But, I will admit that it would be incredibly helpful if you allowed me to work on my schoolwork."

"Of course, Harry dear. How can you be an acceptable...wi...wi...wizard" (she seemed to be having trouble spitting the word out) "if you don't do your work? No, it will be quite alright if you just keep getting decent marks and learning a...a...a...charm or two." Harry was even more astonished. Was it, as foolish as it sounded, possible to think that the Dursleys may have experienced a change of heart? It seemed impossible, but he was faced with what looked like a very accepting Petunia Dursley. Maybe she would even let him send owls to his friends and practice flying in the empty old football stadium nearby... but surely that would be pushing his luck a little too far.

"If there's anything that we can do to make your stay here more comfortable, let me know. Like if you want a telephone or video games, or a new wand, or whatever it is that your type use for fun," she rambled, as Harry gaped in astonishment, "just tell me as soon as you can."

"Well..." Harry began, "I would like it if I could let my owl out to give my friends from sch- Hogwarts some letters..."

Aunt Petunia looked as if she would rather die than have Harry let his owl out, but she forced her face into what she must have thought was a winning expression and gave Harry a long smile that looked more like a grimace. It seemed like she had to force herself to open her mouth when she finally said, "Of course, if you would like. Is there anything else?"

"No, um, that should be all." He didn't want to push his luck too far. Petunia Dursley was a bitter woman, but it would be grand if Harry could stay on her good side all summer. To think of all the things that lay ahead of him... It was a promising thought, having some freedom this summer. Maybe he could even go to Hermione's for a couple of weeks, then visit Ron, and then come back for his school things. Maybe he could even go to the International Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch training camp, which besides being quite fun, would be a wonderful opportunity to talk to Cho Chang and to meet up with Angelina and Katie, fellow members of the Gryffindor quidditch team. The possibilities seemed endless.

"I will have Dudley help you with your trunk. You can move it upstairs and keep it in the closet in your room. We've added new carpet, we hope you like it," Aunt Petunia concluded.

Dudley did not look pleased at being called from his enticing game of Destruct-An-Alien, but his mother shot him a warning look and he poutily helped Harry pull the trunk up the stairs. He purposely dropped his end of the trunk at the landing, so that the other side fell and smashed Harry's big toe. He looked up at Harry with a sly smile.

"Thank you Dudley, but I think I can manage this trunk myself," Harry said, knowing that it would be much easier with help, but not the kind of help that Dudley was offering.

"Good, 'cause I've got much better things to do. I was in the middle of a very interesting game, and Nikki is on the phone, and you are ruining positively all of my summer plans," he huffed, leaving Harry wondering exactly what summer plans he had ruined.

Harry was left to ponder exactly what was going on in the Dursley's household that had caused such a drastic change in their attitudes towards Harry. Actually, it was only Aunt Petunia's attitude that had changed, as Dudley had just made quite clear. But the change was so sudden that Harry wondered what could possibly be going on. Because he knew the Dursleys well enough, and had lived with them for enough years, that he knew they were only being nice to him because they were either scared or they wanted something out of it. It couldn't be out of the goodness of their hearts. But in any case, Harry decided that he might as well enjoy it as it lasted.

He dragged the trunk up stair by stair. It proved to be a much more difficult task than he had imagined, and he almost wished that he hadn't excused Dudley so soon. It was almost twenty minutes before he had the trunk safely upstairs. When it was locked away in his closet until he needed anything, he checked up on Hedwig. The journey did not seem to have agreed with her. Or perhaps it was just the trip up the stairs, during which her cage had been hanging sideways over the banister. Harry unlocked the cage and took Hedwig out. He realized how lucky he was to have Hedwig. While Hermione did not have an owl at all, and Ron had only a tiny feather ball called Pigwidgeon, Harry had the most magnificent owl at Hogwarts, or maybe even in the world. But today she was not so agreeable. She nipped Harry as he let her out onto the windowsill, and let out a harsh cry when Harry let her go.

He sat back on the bed and looked around. Aunt Petunia certainly was right; they had changed a lot of the furnishings, the carpet, and had freshly painted the room since last summer. He even noticed that they had cleared away most of Dudley's old junk. The room certainly seemed more welcoming, and Harry found himself thinking about taking a nap. He was exhausted from the day's travels, and he found it hard to believe that at eight o'clock this morning he had still been at Hogwarts with Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. He drifted off into a contented sleep.

When he woke up, it was four thirty in the morning, and he found himself positively famished. He realized that it must have been around seven the night before when he had fallen asleep, and he didn't feel like going back to sleep at all. He was thinking about sneaking out with his broomstick and practicing quidditch at the empty stadium while it was still dark, but as he left his room, he tripped on a plate of mashed potatoes and roasted pork. It looked delicious, but he couldn't believe that the Dursleys would have left him a meal like this. He felt the pork, and it felt cold, so he assumed that it must have been from the night before. He could just go downstairs, heat it up in the microwave, and then come back upstairs, eat, and begin his homework for the holidays. It seemed like a good plan, so he tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone up. He got to the kitchen all right, but when the microwave buzzer beeped (he had forgotten how they did that) Uncle Vernon came storming in, a furious expression on his face.

"What are you doing, boy?" he growled.

"Just heating up my supper from last night," he replied, showing Uncle Vernon the plate of steaming food.

"Oh, Petunia left food out for you? That was good of her. And how was your trip yesterday?"

"It was fine, I suppose, except no one picked me up at the station," Harry hinted.

"Oh, that, my boy. We couldn't. We were really exceptionally busy preparing for your homecoming. And I was working extra hours at the office because, well, frankly, things aren't going very well. Grunnings is on the verge of bankruptcy, and our drills are becoming obsolete compared to these newfangled, high-powered monstrosities," said Uncle Vernon, in the tone of one who was being severely wronged.

Harry tried to nod sympathetically, but found it difficult when he was trying not to laugh. Apparently, though, Uncle Vernon didn't notice.

"Just remembered. I've got a gift for you." Will wonders never cease, Harry thought. They really must be up to something. Uncle Vernon trotted off to fetch something from the cupboard under the stairs, and returned with a fancy envelope covered with spidery script and a big wrapped box. He handed them both to Harry, who opened the envelope first.

Dear Harry,

You have been chosen to take part in the International Confederation of Wizards' Annual Quidditch training camp. If you are able to come, the camp will be held in Amburgdale, Scotland on July 15-28. There are many other young wizards on the waiting list so reserve your spot soon.

The International Confederation of Wizards, Illiun Chromical, Director

"Wicked!" Harry whispered.

"Excuse me, my boy, but may I ask exactly what is so enthralling?"

"Well, I've been asked to go to a qui - I mean, football, camp in Scotland. All expenses paid," Harry lied, as he crossed his fingers.

"Excellent! Since we are all one big happy family, I think that it would be grand if we all went together! Dudders has never been to Scotland before. He so likes traveling," Uncle Vernon exclaimed.

"Um, sir, it says here that I am to come alone with only my broo - I mean ball, and be prepared to have intensive training while I am there. I am sure that it will be no time for family at all."

Uncle Vernon looked very put-off. He nudged at the big present for Harry. Harry took the cue, and unwrapped the box to find a very silly-looking make-believe wand and cape made for children's Halloween costumes.

"Found that for you. Thought you'd like it," Uncle Vernon told him proudly.

"Well, er...thanks. It's really great," said Harry, trying to force his face into what he hoped looked like a very pleased and happy expression.

"Now that I've had this meeting with my very favorite nephew, I think that I'll just run along and return to bed for a few hours, Harry," he grinned. Harry managed a feeble smile in return. What on earth could have changed Vernon and Petunia this much, short of a very serious spell? Could it have been a spell that did it? Harry doubted seriously that anyone would take enough interest in the Dursleys to cast such a difficult and mood-altering spell on them. But Harry was convinced that there must be a reason, and that it was not just out of the goodness of their hearts. Harry had been around them long enough to know that, as far as he was concerned, there was no goodness in the very cold hearts of the Dursleys.

As Uncle Vernon romped loudly back to bed, Harry wondered what to do. He could go do homework, but as the holidays had just begun, and Harry usually favored procrastination over working quickly, he found that he was not in the mood at all. He decided that he would send an owl to Ron. He bolted up the stairs and to his room, where he rummaged through his trunk and pull out a quill and a piece of parchment. When he was finished telling Ron about the strange change in the attitudes of the Dursley family, he released Hedwig and sent her off to the Burrow.

Because it was still only 4:54 am and he didn't think that the Dursleys would be up before seven that weekend morning, he found himself longing to go play quidditch. It was still dark, and no one would see him at the old stadium anyway. As long as he flew below the top of the stands, he should be fine. Besides, if he wanted to be able to look decent at the quidditch camp, he would need some practice, especially since there had been no quidditch at Hogwarts the year before. But, just to be safe, Harry figured he would take the Invisibility Cloak, and he left a note on his pillow explaining that he was out on a morning jog and would be back by eight.

By the time he was ready to go, it was 5:15. When he was leaving his room, he accidentally knocked over a new cassette player that the Dursleys had bought. He was nervous for a second when he heard a loud groan from Dudley next door, but relieved when he heard a snore soon after. He silently unlatched the back door and set out pulled his broomstick through the frame. When he was done, he went out the side gate and found himself alone on a very dark and deserted Privet Drive. Good, he thought, so far, so good. He made it all the way to Highland Street when he almost tripped over a businessman rushing off to some appointment or another, but managed to spin out of the way just in time. He figured it would cause quite a ruckus if some invisible phantom was treading on people's toes in the dark morning; the Muggle would probably call the police and if they found him, he would be in a spot of trouble explaining why he had a broomstick and cape in the middle of the night.

Luckily, Harry had no such troubles. He reached the entrance of the stadium at ten of six, and the only person there was a very dozy night watchman. He made a conscious effort to stay as far from the night watchman as he could while going through the gate, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely inside.

The feeling of flying again overwhelmed him. It was the first time that he had really realized exactly how much he had missed it. But now that he was back on a broomstick, he couldn't see how he had ever done without it. His Firebolt showed no signs of being rusty from the long time it hadn't been used, and he was flying as well as ever. Now, he was more determined to go to the International Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch Training Camp to work on his skills. Besides, seeing Cho...

He pulled some Sickles out of his pocket, threw them in the air, and dove down to catch them. He was delighted when he caught them all. He continued this for about an hour, and then decided that it must be about time to head back to Privet Drive, judging by the light that was spreading through the sky.

By the time he got to the gates, he saw that the night watchman had been replaced with another watchman. This watchman was not so tired. As he opened the gates, there was a large creak as the metal bars were pushed up. The watchman snapped around, glanced around, and frantically looked in Harry's direction. Harry tried to be quiet as he slipped through the gate and down the walk, but apparently he was not so good at sneaking around as he thought, despite his considerable practice in it, because the watchman followed the sound of his footsteps all the way to the street.

"Ghost!" he shouted. The growing crowd of people passing by looked at him with a mixture of amusement and a slight trickle of uncertainty. One little girl clung to her mother as the watchman shouted to anyone who would listen. Even when he was three blocks away, he could hear the cries of the watchman stifled by the laughs of the crowd. He realized what a close cut he had wriggled through, and felt a tiny bit sorry for the poor watchman.

Soon he found himself back at the doorstep of Privet Drive. He put his head to the door, and when he heard nothing, he opened it inaudibly and crept up the stairs. He got to the doorway of his room to find Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon glancing at the note on his pillow in disgust.

"Run away to go spend the summer with one of his kind, I expect," Uncle Vernon muttered distastefully.

"Humph. We'll never get to use that little brat now," Petunia replied. Use him? thought Harry. He wondered what exactly their plan was. He went back into the hallway and dropped his cloak and his broomstick into a small cabinet by the stairs. He would get them after he made his appearance.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," Harry interrupted.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked furious at having been intruded upon, but they tried their best to give Harry nice, kind little smiles.

"We were looking for you, my boy!" Uncle Vernon thundered. "We were going to take you out for hotcakes this morning, then perhaps to the football match this afternoon. Do you like football? We've got two tickets and Dudley's no interest in going, and you must be quite the football player, to be invited to that camp and all. It would be just you and me, my boy!" This positively terrified Harry, but he pretended that going to a football game with just Uncle Vernon would be the time of his life, even though he would much rather go see the Wimbourne Wasps lose to the Chudley cannons in quidditch. "Well then, we're all set. You ready to go eat, Harry?"

Harry nodded feebly in response. He could only imagine how fun a football game would be with Uncle Vernon. Besides, he didn't even like hotcakes. But Uncle Vernon seemed so set on going that he decided he should go if he wanted to talk him into going to the International Confederation of Wizards' camp.