Harry Potter and the Theft of the Princess

Chapter One- The Beginning

Harry Potter rubbed his eyes and groped around on his bedside table for his glasses. He lay there for a moment, confused, wondering where in the world he was, even after 2 weeks, then remembering he was home, although he had never quite thought of 4 Privet Drive as his home. He leaned over and picked up his copy of Flying with the Cannons, a book Ron had lent him to read about his favorite Quidditch players, the Chudley Cannons. The players zoomed around the field, playing so fast and efficiently that they looked like speeding cars, dubbed in their violent orange robes. He read for a while, then became bored (he was more of a fan of Bulgeria, which was the team Viktor Krum played on) and went over to the bookshelves that hadn't been touched since the books were placed there when Dudley received them as gifts. "Ow," Harry moaned, flopping back on the bed. He really didn't want to think of Dudley if he didn't need to, but he found his thoughts turning to him anyway. He pictured how thin Dudley must have gotten after the 120 pounds he had lost by those last days... his girlfriend, Julia, had requested to talk to Harry at the funeral, and asked how well he had known Dudley. He had admitted he didn't know him that well, being that they had only been friends during the last year. Julia had looked kinda disappointed, but she smiled anyway, and walked purposefully toward her parents, looking a little wistful. He had wallowed in self- pity for the rest of the day (and the week, for that matter), and began asking himself unanswerable questions- Could I have saved him? Could I have prevented this? He wanted to say no, but he always came up with answers that said yes, yes he could have saved him... For instance, the Golden Griffin...he had chased Wormtail into the Forbidden Forest, and failed to catch him. Then his brain argued with itself, saying that even if he had caught Wormtail, Voldemort would have recruited another of his faithful Death Eaters to complete the job. They had been planning this for a year, and Old Voldy wouldn't just blow it off because his recruit turned up missing. Well, he said to himself, "Self? What about the letter?" Then he would remember that damn letter... He tried to forget the letter, but his stubborn brain always remembered... "SELF!! Remember the letter? You know the letter. The one you forgot when you snuck off to snog with Hermione, remember now??? Are you listening to me, SELF?" Harry began wondering if he was going crazy. But it was just his damn consciousness making him remember. He couldn't forget, even if he wanted to. Then there was guilt about Cedric. Horrible, horrible guilt that ate at him ravenously like a maggot working its way into the middle of a dead squirrel... Stop, he said, before you get nightmares. He knew there was no way to stop the Killing Curse, but he kept having visions, like he could have pushed Cedric out of the way, and sacrificed himself. "Harry Potter is too good, too great to lose... We must protect Harry Potter," whined Dobby the House Elf in his head. OK, that wasn't an option. Could he have countered the curse? "There's no preventing it. And there's no anticipating it. It can't be stopped." Damn. The Crouch/Moody that taught him in 4th year rang in Harry's head this time. He could have killed himself for saying "Let's both take the cup. It'll still be a Hogwarts victory." Those fateful words were Cedric's undoing.

Suddenly, Hedwig flew into the window, bringing Harry back into reality. She banked a hard right, smacking her head on the opposite wall. Harry yelped and leapt from the bed, scooping his beloved bird in his arms and carrying her across the room to the cage, and trying to stand her upright on her perch, to no avail. She was out cold. He carried her to his bed, and laid her upon his pillow. Her right wing fluttered, and Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief. He hand fed her some water from her bowl, getting most of it on his bedspread, and her eyes fluttered open, like a coma patient just waking up. Harry brought her food dish and she nibbled his fingers affectionately. Harry smiled and almost screamed when he saw Pigwidgeon on his desk opposite. He hadn't heard Pig flying in. And the weird thing was, he was used to it. Used to having small animals just popping in and out again as they pleased. Harry removed 3 letters from Pig's leg, and looked curiously at a letter adorned with Mrs. Weasley's motherly scrawl, and one that said Fred Weasley; but the other name on it he barely made out as georae (He guessed it as George). There was one from Ron as well. He opened Ron's first. It read:

Dear Harry:

How are things going? You probably want to know why we're all using Errol. You will never guess what hapened. He died! (ok, you probably could have guessed that, if you tried...) But you won't guess what he was doing when he died... Delivering mail... OK, you could've guessed that too... but who's mail? AHA, you really won't guess this. Ginny's! She was sending mail to- are you ready?- Malfoy! And you won't believe some of the things she said there! A Quote:

"I can't wait until we meet again, Draco. I miss you so much! I can almost feel your hands in my hair, your silver eyes, your warm smile..." Yuck! I almost gagged... What does that remind you of, Harry? Anyway, she was so peeved at her punishment- she wasn't supposed to be using Errol without permission- she ran out and got her ears and her belly button pierced- Muggle Style!

Harry grimaced. Muggles were so crude in their fashion of life... Harry could not understand for the life of him why anyone, Muggle or otherwise, would punch holes in their ears. It was irrational.

Mum gave her punishment to her yesterday- she has to entertain the ghoul in the attic when he gets lonely. Isn't that a riot? I fell over laughing!

Ron

Harry almost fell over laughing as he reached for Mrs. Weasley's letter. It was cheerful enough, he guessed.

 

Dear Harry:

I do hope you are alright. I promised Albus Dumbledore I would check up on you, every now and again. You will write back, won't you? I'm waiting your return owl.

Mrs. Weasley

 

Harry groaned, even though he was sure it was for his own good. He turned to the letter from Fred and George, knowing it wasn't going to be boring, if he knew the Weasley twins. Sure enough, it looked like they had taken turns yanking the parchment from each other's hands.

 

Dear Harry:

Dear Harry:

George, I think I can handle this. Hello, Harry. How are yo

Harry! My main man! How's it hangin! Missed ya, ya old coo

Sorry, Harry, George was reading Muggle magazines, found them dead funny, anyway, how's your summer coming along? Me and George have another idea for the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, just you wait, Harry, you'll love 'em

Yeah, they're called Lucky Ducks, bur Fred

Fred insists on calling them Baby Beams

Which George thinks is stupid, but as soon as their perfected, we'll send you one,

Careful, though

Why should he be careful? He's all grown up

As soon as you eat one, you start to look younger and younger, until you're a baby, then you *pop* out of existence then *pop* back in again, really, Harry, its brilliant

Which is why I wanted to call them Lucky Ducks, you'd be lucky to re-live your past again

Not that many people think so, George

I do, so there you go

Whatever. Gee, Harry, we miss ya!

Ya, Harry, why don't you wright?

We gotta go, Mum wants the garden de-gnomed again

See ya!

Bye!

George and Fred

 

Harry smiled, it was like listening to them arguing in front of him. He started to open Hermione's letter, but decided to save it for later. Then he remembered Dudley and the letter he could have read and saved him, but put it to the back of his mind. He took a shower, then went downstairs to run, as he did every morning.