Harry Potter and the Ring of Destiny

Harry Potter & the Ring of Destiny

Chapter One - A Serious Note

The summer was Harry Potter's least favorite time of the year. For one thing, he had to spend it with his horrible relatives, the Dursleys, who considered Harry to be no more desirable than a leech, and for another, he was completely isolated from the wizarding world and his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Harry hadn't heard from either of his friends all summer, and since Hedwig, his snowy owl, had not yet returned from delivering a letter to Harry's godfather, Sirius, Harry could not even send a note himself. Ron and Hermione's letters were what made the summers away from Hogwarts manageable. Oh, and Hogwarts. He couldn't wait until the day he returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It had been four years since Harry's eleventh birthday, when he had learned that he was, in fact, a wizard. An even greater shock was to discover that everyone in the wizarding world knew his name. At only one year old, Harry had survived an encounter with Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark wizard for a century. Voldemort had murdered Harry's parents, but left Harry with nothing more than a lightning bolt shaped scar. Although Voldemort had been reduced to a state of almost nothingness, Harry had encountered him every year at Hogwarts. As he recalled last year's events, he felt quite lucky to have even reached his fifteenth birthday.

As Harry rifled through his spellbooks, he realized that he had not even received an owl from Hogwarts, detailing what supplies he needed for his fifth year. He remembered with a grimace the summer before his second year, when the house-elf Dobby had stopped his mail. Surely nothing of the sort had happened again, had it? Why did it seem that, despite all the times he had defeated Voldemort, people still thought he couldn't take care of himself? Harry shook his head angrily.

Pulling out his slightly worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which he had read and re-read all summer, Harry imagined he was back at Hogwarts, on his Firebolt, the best broomstick ever made. He wasn't sure if his fantasies had drifted into actual dreams, when all of a sudden, he heard a tapping on his window.

His first thoughts - hopes, actually - were that it was Ron, who had "rescued" Harry on more than one occasion. However, closer inspection revealed that it was in fact a dog, a scruffy-looking black dog whom Harry would easily have missed against the backdrop of the night sky. He quickly unlatched the window, allowing the dog to bound in.

"Sirius?" Harry asked uncertainly.

He remembered that his godfather did have the ability to change at will into a hulking black dog - he was an Animagus - but this dog looked considerably more worn than the one Harry knew from meeting Sirius last term. This dog looked pale, if that was even possible for a dog. Instead of transforming into Sirius, the dog sat and dropped a small, but obviously very full parcel at Harry's feet. Before Harry could say a word, the dog ran and leaped out the window with astonishing speed.

Harry picked up the parcel hurriedly, hoping that his aunt and uncle had not heard anything. Anxiously slitting it open, a letter fell out on a single piece of parchment, along with a clipping from The Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper.

Harry,

The last letter I sent to you fell into the hands of Ministry officials, so I must be extremely cautious in my communications with you of any kind. They do not know of my whereabouts, and I plan to keep it as such, but I expect you will be receiving a call from the Ministry very soon. This latest finding has quickly made the headline of The Daily Prophet (which I've enclosed a copy of), so wizards everywhere will be on the lookout for me. I don't know if they plan to station the dementors back at Hogwarts, but I can guarantee that there will be heightened security on the castle this year.

Destroy this letter and any other letters from me. You must not be found with any evidence of my contacting you. If it is discovered that you are writing to me, trouble will most definitely ensue ... and you can count on the Ministry to have a field day.

Please be careful at Hogwarts this year. If there is any way I can safely get in touch, I will, but for now I'll have to lay low and wait it out.

- Sirius

Harry hastily folded up the letter and stuffed it back into its envelope. Next, he picked up the Daily Prophet clipping. He didn't have to look any further than the front page to see the headline Sirius had mentioned.

Ministry Discovers Letter from Sirius Black

On Monday afternoon, Ministry of Magic officials intercepted a letter to Harry Potter, suspected to be from notorious Azkaban escapee, the cunning Sirius Black. Potter, who has been under surveillance ever since the letter was found, appears to be safe and sound for now, but the Ministry urges all witches and wizards to be careful, and report anything they may know about Black's location immediately.

"The letter was in no way threatening," stated an official, "and even seemed friendly. We cannot, however, disclose the letter's content as of yet. References lead us to believe that it is from Sirius Black."

There have been many speculations as to the purpose of this letter, some of them quite surprising. A few people have gone as far as to suggest that perhaps Harry Potter has secretly been in contact with Black, for reasons unknown. However, one thing is certain. Wizards, and most especially Potter himself, must be cautious. Black has proved himself capable of mass murder more than once, and can be accurately described as a ruthless, very dangerous criminal.

Harry sighed as he folded the newspaper to discard along with Sirius's letter. He could just picture Ministry officials swooping down from the sky and surrounding number four Privet Drive. Hopefully, they hadn't thought anything of the black dog's arrival ... the last thing Sirius needed was for anyone to discover he was an Animagus.

Harry climbed back into bed and just lay there for hours, wondering how Sirius was getting on or whether he'd ever hear from his friends or how he'd manage to get his school supplies from Diagon Alley, until he drifted into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

The minute Harry entered the kitchen the following morning, Uncle Vernon stood up, his beefy face contorted with anger. Aunt Petunia was surprisingly silent, working in the kitchen, while Harry's whale-like cousin Dudley stuffed his face. He was supposed to be on a diet, but as neither Harry's aunt nor uncle ever denied their severely spoiled and overweight son of anything he desired, it was no wonder Dudley had gained instead of lost weight. Harry didn't know how his cousin had managed to grow so large, yet Aunt Petunia acted as though her "Dudums" was the trimmest boy in England.

"I ... got ... a letter from that ... that school of yours," sputtered Uncle Vernon, spraying bits of egg as he spoke.

"Oh?" said Harry calmly, preparing to help himself to a piece of toast. Aunt Petunia's bony hand had caught him halfway to it.

"Don't eat what's not yours," she said sharply, handing the toast to Dudley instead. "Eat up sweetums. Got to be fit for company tonight." She rounded on Harry to give him a menacing look, before proceeding haughtily back to the kitchen area.

"Seems that a certain professor," Uncle Vernon sneered as he said the word, "has offered to take you in for the rest of the summer."

Harry was surprised Uncle Vernon wasn't jumping with joy at the possibility of getting rid of the nephew he so despised. "And?" Harry asked. "Shall I pack my things?"

"Don't speak to me with that tone, boy!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "You won't be going anywhere just yet. This professor won't be coming to get you until day after tomorrow. 'Till then," and he looked positively irate at this fact, "we'll have to keep you here." He eyed Harry suspiciously. "A relative of your aunt's will be coming over tonight, and I expect not a single sound from you the entire evening. I want no ... funny business ... or you'll find that the cupboard under the stairs is ready for another tenant." Uncle Vernon smiled nastily, saying the last words so clearly and with such venom, Harry didn't dare cross him.

"I ... I won't do anything," Harry ventured.

"No," said Uncle Vernon, spitting again. "You won't. Now ... off with you! Go weed the flowerbeds. Can't just have you sitting around, being useless as always."

After Harry had finished the backbreaking work of caring for the yard - Uncle Vernon had conjured many additional jobs after Harry had finished weeding the flowerbeds - he hurried back to his room. Dudley, who had greatly enjoyed being lazy while Harry darted to and fro, prettying the Dursleys' house for visitors, had unfortunately waddled up to Harry's room to meet him.

"So," said Dudley. "You've finished cleaning up the yard."

"Brilliant deduction," Harry muttered coldly. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing," replied Dudley, surveying the room, and to Harry's great displeasure, fooling around with certain items in the room.

"I'll bet you keep your weird books and stuff up here, don't you?" said Dudley. "Mum and Dad told you not to. And where's that freak owl, anyways? Who's always screeching in the middle of the night?"

"Out," said Harry, coolly.

"Doing what?" asked Dudley, narrowing his tiny eyes.

"Delivering a letter, if you must know," answered Harry. "And I can keep my books up here if I want." He couldn't help adding, however untrue it was, "Besides, I could always magic them out anyway. Wouldn't do much good to lock them up then, would it?"

Dudley looked a little scared, but not enough to move. Pronouncing the words very deliberately, he said, "You know you aren't supposed to write your freak friends ... but you're probably just making that up anyway. Wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have any friends 't all."

Harry drew out his wand, and in an instant, Dudley had bolted out of the room, as fast as his fat legs could carry him. Harry braced himself for Aunt Petunia's tirade, but to his surprise, nothing happened. Had Dudley not told his mum? He always loved seeing Harry get into trouble, but could it be that - this time - he hadn't turned in his cousin?

Musing over this possibility, Harry shut the door to his bedroom and flopped down on his bed. There were still four weeks until September 1. Four weeks until he was safe on the Hogwarts Express and countless miles from Number 4, Privet Drive.

Although ... suddenly Harry remembered what Uncle Vernon had said at breakfast. A Hogwarts professor had offered to take him in for the rest of the summer! Who could it be? Couldn't be Dumbledore - he wasn't actually a professor. Not McGonagall - Harry had heard last year that she and a confederation of witches were vacationing in Athens this summer. And surely it wasn't Snape, the nasty potions teacher and head of Slytherin house, who seemed happy only when Harry was miserable. Was it Hagrid? He was the only other professor Harry really felt close to. There were also all his other teachers - plus two new teachers Harry hadn't met yet for his two additional subjects this year - and then ... Harry thought a minute. No ... surely not ... the new defense against the dark arts teacher?