Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy

Harry Potter and The Lost Prophecy

Chapter One: Awakenings

In an ordinary town, in the middle of an ordinary street, sat a little antique shop, nestled snugly between a pharmacy and a Chinese restaurant. It was rather unremarkable looking. The place was tired and run down and the paint on the sign proclaiming 'The Old Curiosity Shop' was faded and peeling. People bustled up and down the busy pavement without pausing to glance at the tiny emporium, as if anyone who wasn't searching for it would see nothing but a nondescript, ramshackle old shop.

However, those with a purpose, with time to spend rambling amongst its contents, could perhaps find that this little store was not all that it seemed.

For amongst the chipped vases and old junk was one item that was very special. It was stowed away deeply behind the crumbling paintings and wooden tables; hidden deep within the recesses of the shop in a place so dusty it appeared even the storekeeper had forgotten it.

There, behind an old mirror was a small wooden box, untouched by dust and sitting as if brand new on the floor. It wasn't remarkable in a way that would catch the eye, but for some reason it drew a young customer who gazed down at the object as if it radiated living energy. Pushing unruly hair from her eyes she bent down and picked it up. A few moments struggle with the lid revealed it would not open. Anyone else would have dismissed the box then and there, but the girl couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that made her buy it, despite its lack of any apparent use. The old man at the counter smiled with a twinkle in his eye as she paid him and left the shop contented, box under her arm. As the door swung shut behind her the old man grinned and turned to the shadows, where a figure revealed itself, face hidden by a hooded cloak.

"It has begun," the old man said with satisfaction, "Now all we must do is wait."

The cloaked figure stood silent as the words echoed in the dim atmosphere.

"He will be pleased?" the old man enquired after a moment.

Still the figure remained silent. Then it began to melt back into the shadows, arm raised in half-mocking salute, causing its sleeve to fall back briefly to reveal a flash of silver. The figure gave a short laugh then spoke in a muted tone.

"When the boy is delivered you will receive your reward."

Then the spectre was gone, and the old man sat alone in his shop, smiling.

*

Harry Potter awoke with a start. He'd been dreaming, and from past experience he knew this was never a good thing. He shook his head violently, struggling to remember something, anything, but the images flickered through his mind in a jumble. It had been different than the usual nightmares that kept him awake at night. That, at least, he was certain of.

Unable to focus, he sighed and sat up, fumbling for his glasses. He glanced at the clock and saw with a start that it was almost nine. Although it was a Saturday morning, it was unusual to be left in peace to sleep this long. Normally his aunt would wake him early with a list of chores.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he surveyed his bedroom with disgust. The room was actually his spoilt cousin Dudley's second bedroom and despite Harry having lived in there for the past 4 years, Dudley was still not happy about this arrangement. Truthfully, Harry didn't mind. For the first 10 years of his life at No. 4 Privet Drive his room had been the cupboard under the stairs, so despite the still remaining clutter of Dudley's broken toys it was a vast improvement.

He shook himself awake wondering what had woken him from the strange dream. His questions were quickly answered by a loud banging, sounding as though someone was attempting to break down his door. With a yawn he got out of bed and opened the door, finding himself staring into the angry face of his Aunt Petunia.

She glared at him and looked at his crumpled pyjamas with open annoyance

"Layabout," she muttered.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but she hurriedly continued.

"There's a phone call for you," Aunt Petunia said sharply. "Heavens knows who would be calling you, especially this early in the morning. I don't want you tying up the line! And it better not be one of your kind..." she added as an after thought.

Harry stared at her for a second then hurried past her, down the stairs to the phone. Who on earth could be phoning me? He thought. He picked up the receiver gingerly.

"Hello?" Harry said, stifling a yawn.

"Harry?" a familiar voice asked.

"Hermione?" he asked in surprise. Hermione Granger was one of his two best friends. Along with their other best friend Ron Weasley, they attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

This was what his Aunt Petunia had meant by your kind. The Dursley's were terrified by anything out of the ordinary, and ordinary is what Harry certainly was not. He was a wizard, and a very famous one at that. He had defeated Lord Voldemort, the most sinister wizard alive, on four separate occasions and had lived to tell the tale. Although their first encounter had been when Harry was only a year old, he had somehow managed to strip Voldemort of his power, freeing wizards and witches from his reign of terror. Because of this he was known nation-wide as a hero, and was unfortunately rather easy to recognise. A lightening shaped scar was emblazoned across his forehead, a souvenir of this confrontation, marking him permanently. On that day both his parents had been killed by Voldemort, and not, as his aunt had once told him, in a motor accident.

He had been brought to Little Whinging, Surrey to live with his aunt, her husband and their overweight brat, Dudley. All three despised Harry, and tried to make his life as difficult as possible. They were petrified of anything 'unnatural', and even more terrified that someone would find out that they were connected to such goings on.

People in the wizarding world didn't have technology like telephones and Harry remembered with a chuckle the time Ron had attempted to telephone him, succeeding only in shouting rather loudly at Uncle Vernon, who had been decidedly outraged. Fortunately Hermione was a Muggle-born witch, meaning she had grown up with non-magical parents and knew fully well how to use a telephone.

"Harry? Are you still there?" Hermione asked impatiently, the sound of her voice reminding Harry how much he was missing her, his other friends and Hogwarts. He sighed, remembering it was only the middle of July, which left a whole month and a half to go before he could return to school. Harry smiled.

"I'm here. I'm just a bit surprised. And tired." he added, stifling yet another yawn.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Hermione asked, worriedly.

"I haven't been sleeping that well..." Harry began, and then trailed off. He didn't want her to worry, as he knew she would.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. It's great to hear from you! Has everything been ok?"

"I really need to get an owl! I can't contact you unless Hedwig or Pig are here delivering mail." Hermione replied in exasperation.

Wizards used a rather nifty system of Owl Post to communicate. Harry had his very own owl, Hedwig, who was currently delivering a letter to his godfather, Sirius Black. Hedwig had been an eleventh birthday present from Harry's friend Hagrid. Hagrid was the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts and had been the first magical person Harry had met. Pig, short for Pigwidgeon was Ron's tiny owl.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked, starting to feel slightly worried at his best friends' tone.

"Oh, everything's fine. I just feel so distanced from our world. I wanted to see how you were handling living with your relatives again. How are they treating you?"

Harry laughed at this. It was so like Hermione to be worried about him.

"Same as always. Dudley's trying to be as obnoxious as possible, but I'm just counting down the days until I leave!"

"Are you going to The Burrow?" Hermione asked, chuckling softly. The Burrow was Ron's home, and it was possibly Harry's favourite place in the whole world.

"Of course!" he replied, as if there could be any other response. "Next week. Are you going too?"

"That's what I was ringing about. I thought we could go together. Mrs Weasley suggested that you and I meet at the Leaky Cauldron and we can either Floo in from there or call the Knight Bus."

"That sounds perfect!" They busily made the arrangements then Harry asked Hermione about her summer so far.

"Well, I've finished all of my homework, of course. And I've been studying quite a bit."

Harry smiled to himself. Hermione was by far the smartest girl in school.

"There's so much to do this year. O.W.Ls are only a few months away. And my father wants me to take my GCSE's as well." O.W.L's wereOrdinary Wizarding Levels, the fifth year exams. From what Harry had heard they sounded bad enough, but to be taking Muggle exams as well would be terrible.

"You're not going to use the time turner again are you?" Harry asked suspiciously. In third year Hermione had used a time turner to go back in time a few hours, enabling her to take far too many classes. She'd completely exhausted herself with the stupid thing, although Harry had to admit that it had proved itself useful.

"Don't be silly! I almost wore myself out with that. I'm just going to have a very intense study timetable, that's all."

She had just started to tell him the Muggle subjects she would be taking when Aunt Petunia walked into the hall and plugged in the vacuum cleaner.

"You. Breakfast. Now." she hissed at Harry, turning on the Hoover and vacuuming around his feet.

"Hermione?" Harry shouted over the noise, "I've got to go. Sorry!"

"That's okay" Harry could just make out her voice amongst the noise, "I'll see you soon!"

Harry hung up and glared at his aunt, who looked over at him. Seeing he'd finished, she reached over and switched the Hoover off. Harry bit back a harsh remark and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He placed the frying pan on the stove and reached into the fridge for the bacon and eggs. Dudley had miraculously lost some weight in the past year, which meant the grapefruit and lettuce diet was now off and fried breakfasts were back on. Over breakfast his aunt moaned about how long he'd been on the telephone, complaining that she was waiting for an important call. Uncle Vernon snidely remarked that the state of Harry's hair made him look not merely as if he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, but as if the hedge had been simultaneously dragged through a combine harvester. Dudley whacked him with his Smeltings stick under the stable.

However, despite the behaviour of his relatives, Harry smiled to himself. Today was the 24^th. He would meet Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron pub in London on the 30^th, the day before his 15^th birthday. It was only 6 days away. Everything was neatly arranged. The only possible obstacle was actually getting there. Harry turned to his uncle and smiled fetchingly. After a few moments Uncle Vernon lowered his newspaper and looked at him.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm leaving on the 30^th." Harry announced. "I'll be gone the rest of the summer."

"Good." Uncle Vernon stated, turning back to his newspaper. Harry kept the smile plastered on his face. Uncle Vernon glanced over at him and frowned.

"What?!" He growled dangerously.

"Well, I need a lift. To London." This was followed by silence, then-

"Fine." Harry's smile disappeared in shock.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"I said fine. It'll be worth it to get you out of the house. I have to go up on business anyway." Harry stared in amazement. He'd expected a fight. This had almost been too easy.

"Thank you," he said warily, getting up to put the dishes in the sink. The Dursley's ignored him. He left the washing up and headed upstairs to get dressed. Hedwig was waiting for him with a reply from Sirius.

Pulling on a pair of jeans that were far too big and an old T-shirt, he took the note from Hedwig's leg and she hooted happily. He stroked her soft down as he read the reply.

Harry

I'm glad to hear you're all right. I've been very busy and I'll be going away for a while so you won't be able to reach me for some time. Don't try and contact me, I'll write to you as soon as possible. If anything happens contact Dumbledore immediately. Have a nice summer and I'll be in touch,

Snuffles

Harry smiled. Two years ago he'd had a few happy moments when he'd thought he would be going to live with his newly acquired godfather, but the dream had been short-lived. Sirius was an escaped prisoner and the evidence to set him free had escaped, leaving him on the run. He'd been sent to Azkaban, the wizard prison, 14 years ago for a crime he didn't commit and Harry hoped that one day soon he would be able to prove Sirius' innocence.

Hedwig hooted loudly. Harry looked up and saw that there was still a tiny package tied to her leg. He took it from her and she ruffled her wings, flying quickly to her cage for a drink. He unwrapped the tiny parcel carefully, wondering what could be inside. Sirius seemed to have used a lot of parchment to wrap it up with. Eventually he came to the last layer, which turned out to be another note. As he unravelled it a tiny flash of silver fell out and dropped to the floor. Bending down Harry picked it up, staring at it curiously. It was a tiny silver charm, like a lopsided teardrop, hanging from a delicate chain. In the bowl of the drop a large green stone was set, glinting dully in the morning light. Puzzled, Harry began to read the second note.

Harry

This charm belonged to your mother. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but I took it from her neck on that day. I didn't want anyone to take it. I'm sorry for doing this, and I hope you're not upset.

I hid it in a secret place that I will one day show you. I've been waiting for the right time to give it to you, and I think that you are now old enough to understand it. Your mother hardly ever took this off, almost for as long as I knew her. Treasure it.

Snuffles.

Harry sat down slowly onto his bed. He stared at the delicate silver charm, then closed it tightly in his fist and held on to it fiercely. Something of his mother's! He was holding a part of her. He'd never felt this close to her before- not even when he'd seen her in the mirror of Erised, or when he'd heard her death each time the Dementors had appeared. He imagined he could almost smell her hair, almost feel her touch, almost...but that was all it was. Almost.

Suddenly Harry found himself hugging his pillow, weeping brokenheartedly for the parents he would never know. He sat rocking, thinking, wishing for his heart's desire: for his parents to be alive, to be with him. To not have been stolen from him.

His sadness turned to anger. Why should he have been robbed of his parents? It wasn't fair. So many families had been torn apart by Voldemort. So many lives ruined.

Suddenly he thought of Neville Longbottom, another 5^th year Gryffindor. His parents had been tortured with the Cruciatus curse, one of the three illegal curses. The pain had driven them insane and they now lived in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. There were some people who were much worse of than he was. With a determined smile Harry vowed to be a better friend to Neville this year.

Suddenly there was another loud banging on the door and Aunt Petunia strode in. Harry quickly wiped his eyes, trying not to look as if he'd been crying. His aunt stared at his tear stained face, and Harry imagined he saw a brief flicker of concern cross her horsy features. Then her face returned to its usual haughtiness.

"What's wrong with you?" she barked. Harry just shook his head. Her saw her eyes go to his hand, where the little charm still sat, and her eyes widened.

"Where did you get that?" she asked in a frightened whisper, reaching out a shaking hand to take it.

"It's mine!" Harry said defensively, closing his fist. "It belonged to my mother!" Aunt Petunia snatched her hand back, as if she'd been burnt.

"I know," she said quietly, her eyes softening slightly. "She wore it all the time--" She caught herself and her eyes were once again hard and cold.

"I came to bring you this." she said with a smirk, handing him a long sheet of paper. "This is a list of chores that need doing before you leave. And the dishes won't wash themselves." she added heading for the door. Petunia paused for a second and turned around. Harry was staring at the long list, groaning, and did not see the sad expression on his aunt's face. Then she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Hearing the door as it clicked shut, Harry looked up and made a face. He'd known he'd gotten off too lightly. It was going to be a long week. With a sigh he stood up, intending to get some of the chores done, then changed his mind and sank into the chair by his desk instead.

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled a hasty note to Ron and Hermione.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

How have your summers been? The Dursley's are being strangely nice to me, which is a bit suspicious but at least I only have another 6 days here!

Nothing interesting has happened. I've been so bored that I've actually finished all my homework, including that nasty essay for Snape! You should be proud Hermione; I think you're rubbing off on me.

Anyway, I'll see you both soon!

10 o'clock at the Leaky Cauldron Hermione- don't forget!

Harry.

P.S. Ron, can you please send this note on to Hermione once you've read it? Thanks!

He tied the note onto Hedwig's leg, stroking her feathers gently.

"I want you to take this to Ron, then take it to Hermione and stay there in case she wants to send a reply," he told her, giving her a small owl treat. With an affectionate nip Hedwig spread her snowy white wings and headed out the window.

Suddenly Harry felt strangely alone. He walked to the window, watching her fly away. He could see old Mrs Figg, who lived a few streets away, standing on the pavement staring up at him. He waved at her and she quickly turned and hurried back towards her house. Harry rather liked Mrs Figg. He'd stayed there a number of times when he was growing up, while the Dursley's had gone on holiday or out for dinner. Her house was quite nice apart from all the cats. She was a terrible cook and had a rather scratchy personality, but she was always quite nice to him, which was a nice change from the Dursleys.

He sat back down on his bed, still gazing out the window. Only 6 more days and he would be free.

*

"Harry!" a shrill voice cut through the air. Harry looked up from the flowerbed he was busy weeding to see his aunt standing at the back door, with a scowl on her face. He stood, brushing dirt from his hands and looked at her expectantly, wondering what his next chore would be. Aunt Petunia waved a piece of paper in his face.

"Aren't you finished yet? You'd better hurry. I need you to go to the supermarket for me. We've run out of almost all of Dudley's favourite foods."

Harry scowled at her.

"And while you're there, you can pick up my dry cleaning," she added with a smirk. Harry groaned, but knew if he said anything or complained he could lose his ride to London tomorrow. As he wiped his dirty hands on his too-big jeans he thought about how good it would be to see Hermione and Ron again. And to be back at the Burrow after spending the past month with the Dursleys was like a dream come true.

As he made his way into the house he thought that it would be nice to get the Weasleys a thank you gift for being so kind to him. He pondered on the ideal present as he changed out of his muddy clothes.

Almost two hours later he was still trying to decide, as he left Sainsbury's, arms full of grocery bags, and quickly made his way down the crowded pavement towards the dry cleaners. He was passing by a small alley when a sharp pain shot through his scar, causing him to drop his shopping to the ground. He was doubled over in pain, when a terrifyingly familiar voice cut through the air.

"Harry Potter."