The Order of the Phoenix

The Unexpected Holiday

Harry Potter was a very unusual boy in many ways. Firstly, he hated the Summer Holidays, and couldn't wait to get back to school. Secondly, he had a strange scar on his forehead, the shape of a lightning bolt, and thirdly... He was a wizard.

For the past half an hour, he had been sitting on the floor of his tiny room on Privert Drive, a room that had once been his dreadful cousin Dudley's second room, and it still bore the scars. A large dint that Harry had been able to disguise with a small Quidditch poster his friend Ron Weasley had sent him earlier in the holidays; a dent formed when an enraged Dudley had thrown a small portable television at the wall during a tantrum a few years ago. Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world which involved two teams of seven players on broomsticks, and 4 flaying balls of various shapes and purposes, Harry enjoyed immensely, and happened to be quite good at.

At the moment he was very concerned that Voldemort, an evil wizard who had mudered his parents and countless others and whom he had only last year encountered again, only just managing to escape, was returning after being presumed dead when a curse he had intended to kill Harry had back-fired on him. This had left him barely alive and powerless 14 years ago; an event that had made Harry and his scar famous throughout the wizarding world.

Whilst they had faded slightly, the events of last year still troubled him and returned to him more vividly than he could recall, in dreams, along with other terrifying events he had not witnessed, but which dissolved as soon as he awoke, normally gasping for breath in a cold sweat, and with a searing pain in his scar.

Harry had been sitting eating some delicious toffee Ron's mother, Mrs Weasley had sent him to survive Dudley's diet, which his Aunt Petunia was still insisting they all follow, despite Harry being rather skinny and small for his age and Dudley being the size of a small rhinoceros. On more than one occasion, Dudley had given Harry particularly vicious stares across the dining table which seemed to indicate he might eat him given the chance. Nevertheless, Dudley's diet seemed to be finally working, and he had lost some weight at least, inspite of all his thwarted efforts to smuggle in food.

Harry folded up the napkin the toffee had been wrapped in and, feeling pleasantly full and imagining Dudley's face had he been able to see him now, he walked up to his room's small window and absorbed the inky black sky with it's lazily drifting morning clouds. Trying to ignore the Dursley's loud snores from beyond his bedroom door.

Almost as if on cue, Harry spied what looked like a small flock of birds on a direct course for the house. Owls. Four of them to be exact. He speedily opened the window to admit them and stood back as they swooped through the opening and onto his bed. Hedwig, his own snowy white owl was carrying two envelopes, one thick parchment one, and one smaller white one. Another owl, a tiny grey one that could have been mistaken for a ball of grey fluff, was hectically fluttering around the room squeaking, much to the disapproval of the others, and was carrying a small package with an attached letter from what Harry could make out amid the feathers. The third, an elegant creamy brown barn owl, was carrying a large parchment letter that bore a proud, embossed wax seal that Harry recognised as the emblem of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and Wizardry; the school his attendance at which the Dursleys would give anything to prevent anyone discovering. The fourth owl he now realised, wasn't an owl at all, rather a large, pointy-faced, black-feathered bird of a kind Harry had never come across before with a large, protruding, rounded black beak. Transfixed by this unusual bird, Harry picked up its letter first which it obediantly dropped for him. He hastily tore open the envelope and immediately recognised Hermione's neat writing;

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I'm sorry if this is late, I've been a bit pre-occupied this holiday. I'm in Bulgaria! My parents decided it would be an interesting place to visit, and Viktor invited us to stay so we've been at his house for the past fortnight. To be honest, I'm not enjoying it as much as I'd hoped. Viktor's family have been very welcoming but Viktor's house is on a steep hill, so it's very cold here, and the sun never seems to come out properly. Also, my room at the Krum's is at the top of one of the towers and it gets very draughty at night. Last week, there was frost on the floorboards, so I've been having to cast defrosting charms every morning. I can't really complain though, the Krums have been pleasant enough and they're used to the cold, although they weren't sure about my parents at first. They seem to be more lax about magical regulation here but they're even more concerned about secrecy from muggles, and Harry, they treat house elves awfully here. The Krums have one called Horga and they have absolutely no respect for her at all. I've asked them all to join S.P.E.W, but I don't think they're convinced. I've been trying to help Horga as much as I can but she's so discreet I can hardly ever find her. Luckily, we're coming back soon as I've just received this year's book list and I need to start reading up. They have some interesting magical history here in Bulgaria but a lot of it's rather primitive. Did you know Bulgaria has the highest death rate in duelling? I thought I'd read that somewhere but it's really fascinating being able to look at all the history first hand.

Oh and Harry, you won't believe it but I've been made a prefect! They've sent me my badge and the handbook, I'm really excited! It doesn't sound as demanding as I'd thought, but I still want to make sure I have all the regulations memorised, I wouldn't want to make a mess of it. I can't wait to show you!

But Harry, are you all right? Have you had any more dreams? Has your scar hurt again? If it has, send an owl to Dumbledore straight away. It's really important you do that Harry, especially after what happened last year, you should be extra cautious, promise me.

I've been trying to read up about curse scars but I haven't found anything useful yet. I'll send you a Greech if I do. By the way, that's what they use here in Bulgaria, Greeches. They still have owls but Greeches seem to be more popular. It's something to do with a warning to a Bulgarian King that was sent by an owl centuries ago. Apparently the owl grew hungry and had to land to hunt but was attacked by a Greech who realised the message was urgent and took it to the King. As soon as the King had read the warning that his cousin, who was next in line to his throne had tampered with his wand so it would back-fire and kill him, the cousin was executed and Greeches have been considered more trustworthy than owls by the Bulgarians ever since. It seems a bit obscure to me and it's probably just a myth, but it's what they believe in.

I've got some bad news as well. Crookshanks has gone missing. I've searched for him everywhere but I can't find him. He disappeared just before we set off for Bulgaria. We've put up notices all over the neighbourhood but we haven't had any reply. I'm really upset, but hopefully we'll be able to find him when we get back. And Harry, I'm sorry but I've got some more bad news.

I've been getting the Daily Prophet here, and it seems that the thing with You-Know-Who's being kept quiet. However, in case you hadn't heard, Sirius has had a run in with the Ministry, it was front page news. He was cornered somewhere in Scotland but from what I can gather he managed to get out of it. I do hope he's O.K, have you heard from him?

I hope everything is O.K. I'll see you in Diagon Alley on the Friday before term begins if you can make it, if not I'll see you on the train on September 1st!

P.S I sent a letter to Ron a few weeks ago telling him about my holiday, but I haven't got anything back from him. Have you? Do you know if he's Okay?

Love,

Hermione.

Harry felt something else in the envelope and looked inside. A clipping from the Daily Prophet and a photograph fell out. The photograph was of Hermione, her parents, and six other hook-nosed people Harry realised must be the Krum family, all outside an un-naturally tall multi-towered and somewhat rickety and gloomy house, set against a dark and cloudy landscape. One of them he had seen before, Viktor Krum, a tall yet duck-footed and roun-shouldered 18 year old who he had seen play Quidditch for Bulgaria last year, and had competed against in the Disastrous Tri-Wizard Tournament which had resulted in the death of a pleasant Hogwarts seventh year boy, Cedric Diggory, who had controversially been competing against Harry but both for Hogwarts. There were also two smaller children one of whom looked about 10, and the other his younger brother Harry gathered. There was another, very tall man with Viktor's nose who towered above the rest and had an even thicker brow than the other Krums, giving him an almost vulture-like appearance. Beneath his deep-set eyes though, he was smiling as much as is possible with his features like the rest of the Krums whom included a smaller, slender woman who must have been Viktor's mother and another, even shorter and much much older man with a black walking stick who muct have been Grandpa Krum. Indeed, when Harry turned over the photograph, there was a neatly written annotation of everyone in the photo. Harry watched for a moment as Hermione waved enthusiastically at him in the image, as was common in the wizarding world, and elderly Granpa Krum raised his hand in friendly acknowledgement. He laid down the photo as the two younger Krums started chasing each other around the picture and picked up the newspaper cutting Hermione had included.

It was indeed an article from the Daily Prophect, and on the front was a black and white photo of a very frustrated Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic who was insistently gesticulating at a horde of journalists and loosening his shirt collar.

Harry read;

"BLACK OUT-WITS MINISTRY: ELUDES CAPTURE... AGAIN"

-Report by Melvin Twist;

Ministry officials today attempted to cover-up yet another major mis hap in the case of Sirius Black ho has once again evaded capture. Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge had the following to say:

"No! We haven't attempted to cover anything up! Yes it's true, I'll admit it, see, Black managed to escape us again but only by the skin of his teeth! We're getting much closer to capturing him and finding out his habbits, how he's managing to avoid us, and he hasn't caused any upset recently so we're clearly keeping him at bay, I don't know what you're all bothering about. Yes, this is serious, but there's no serious worry whilst we're on his tail don't you fear. Black may be a dangerous mad man but we're more than a match for him, take this example, we cornered him in The Grampians, he's getting sloppy, tired of running...

"The prophet then asked how Black was able to escape the Ministry's best officials yet again and how many more times they intended to slip up."

"I take offense to that!" A clearly desperate Fudge replied "We are doing everything within our power to stop Black! He's mad yes, but he's smart as well, like many , but rest assured, we will find him, he can't run forever."

"Kennelburth Snide from the Hogsmeade Herald then asked; Are the allegations true that the Dementors have been ordered to perform the kiss on finding Black as you informed the press before? Does that precaution still stand?"

"A pale Fudge then responded;"

"Erm well, you see, look, you're asking silly questions.. I can't say th..."

"Brummus Greggley from the Dunkelley Bugle then interrupted,"

"Is thay any truth I ask ye, in taay rumour tat ye has suspended thay Dementors from thay case altogether."

"Fudge, now mopping his brow retorted,"

"Look, honestly, I mean, I've, I've told you, we're, d-d-doing our v-v-very b-best to, er, erm, you know, you, you just have to have some faith, I, I assure we're d-doing the absolute best w-we can to sort this mess out and I can confirm on behalf of all involved that it's q-quite enough to keep our public safe."

"Seeing he wasn't going to answer properly, the Daily Prophet wisely changed the subject."

"What about the rumours that Black was sighted two years ago at Hogwarts, the Ministry has never confirmed the incident, what do you have to sya about that?"

"L-l-l-look M-m-mister Twist, I, I, you know, I really don't have any comment on, on, th-that, I, I think it's time to p-p-p-postpone th-this con-c-c-conference."

With that, Fudge left the podium amid crowds of Ministry officials, clearly agitated and visibly shaking, leaving the press to the most part non-the-wiser.

Harry stared at the cutting for a few moments, concerned, but at least Sirius had managed to escape. He was about to right to Sirius straight away when he noticed the other owls, apart from Pigwidgeon, Ron's hyper active owl, waiting patiently to be relieved of their loads. He put Hermione's enclosed Christmas card (showing a somewhat grim scene of an old castle in Bulgaria) and walked over to them.

Sirius didn't seem to be in any immediate danger so Harry put writing to him at the back of his mind, and grabbed hold of a scattily twittering Pigwidgeon who had taken to circling his head and removed the small package and letter from his tiny fluffy leg. He took the owl over to his bed and put him down next to the Greech, who's company seemd to inspire a temporary militant obediance in the little owl.

He unrolled the letter and read Ron's scrawly handwriting;

Hello Harry!

Happy Birthday! How are you? Your scar hasn't hurt again has it? We've all been a bit worried about you, especially Ginny and Mum, and Dad although that's not like him. Loads of stuff's been happenning here, but no one's telling me much. Dad's been sacked but and Percy's in a right state. He's still at The Ministry and he's been temporarily put in charge of his department. He's being worked off his rocker, sometimes doesn't come home at all. I think Mum sent Fudge a Howler last week. Poor bloke. Same goes for Dad. He's been out doing things even though he hasn't got a job. Charlie's on leave from the dragon preserve in Romania and he's trying to get a new job closer to home until all this stuff's been sprted out. He's still Have you heard from Sirius? It said in the Daily Prophet that the Ministry'd caught up with him somewhere in Scotland but they didn't catch him, I think that's probably why Dad's been working so much. Don't get too worried about it though, from what he's said they're miles off finding out where he is no matter what Fudge says.

Have you heard from Hermione yet? She kept sending me loads of stuff about Bulgaria and how wonderful Krum and his family are. I think she's gone on holiday there or something. Boring or what. She said something about Crookshanks going missing, don't know if she told you. Now Harry, I'm really sorry mate, but I've got some bad news.

Harry looked up from the letter in dread for a moment, at the small flock of owls on his bed, and wondered what worse could have happened.

I asked Dad if you could come to stay for the rest of the holiday but he said no!

He wasn't lying; that was bad news. The Dursleys were becoming unbearably oppressive and Harry didn't think he could stand it much more, in fact he was going to write to Ron later to ask if he could come and stay at his house for the remainder of the holidays. So much for that.

I couldn't believe it. Mum said he has his reasons but she wouldn't say why. I'll try and see if I can persuade him but I don't think he's going to change his mind. He got all funny with Fred and George when they said they'd go and get you somehow whether he liked it or not. I'm really sorry. We're going to see the Canons play The Appleby Arrows and it would have been great if you could have come but Dad's having none of it. Miserable sod.

Hope you have a good time anyway. Probably see you at Diagon Alley, if not, on the train.

Bye!

-Ron.

Harry had never felt quite so deserted. He knew Ron must have tried his best, but he didn't think he could stand much more of the Dursleys' enslavement of him, but there was nothing he could do. He wondered what could have made Mr. Weasley, who was a very pleasant and jolly man, so inexplicably strict about him not staying at the Burrow for a few weeks. Had he done something wrong last time he went? Had he offended somebody? Maybe they just couldn't cope with him this year, which was ok really, but the rest of the holidays with the Dursleys was becoming a more and more horrible prospect every day. At the end of last year it had looked like Mr. Weasley might be leaving the Ministry preferring to side with Dumbledore's effort against the newly born Voldemort rather than Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge's, who seemed too unprepared, unwilling to accept the fact that Voldemort could have returned, and wound up in his own affairs to do anything worthwhile. It occurred to Harry that the Weasleys, who were quite poor (a fact that Harry would be only too willing to remedy, having a small fortune inherited from his parents, stowed away in a Gringotts wizard's vault beneath London. A fortune he'd be happy to share with the Weasleys, who had become the closest thing Harry had for a family, if only they'd be willing to accept it, and judging by Ron's adverse response to Harry buying him anything worth more than an ice cream, they wouldn't), would have even less money now Mr Weasley didn't have a job.

Harry folded up Ron's letter in much lower spirits than when he'd opened it, and looking up at the owls, realised that in his haste he had neglected to pay much attention to Hedwig and the other barn owl. Harry poured some owl treats into Hedwig's bowl and took it over to his desk. There was a flurry of feathers as each owl attempted to get their preferred treat and then fluttered over to Hedwig's nearby cage for some water. He turned his attention to the cream barn owl and untied the letter from its leg, hastily informing Hedwig he'd get to her in a minute in response to several indignant hoots. Turning over the letter, the barn owl had been carrying, he opened the envelope as the Greech and the cream owl took flight through the bedroom window. Pigwidgeon seemed to have decided to stay to annoy Hedwig. Harry read:

Dear Mr Potter,

Please note that the new School year will being on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from Kings Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock precisely. Due to new Ministry of Magic guidelines, all students will be searched before boarding and will be taken to Hogwarts under escort. Fifth years should note that O.W.L examinations will take place at the end of this school year.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress.

Harry had completely forgotten that he and his friends were due to take their O.W.Ls (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) exams this year. He paused for a moment to think what kind of escort the Hogwarts Express might be given and returned the letter to its envelope, turning to Hedwig who was becoming impatient for Harry to open her letters.

He untied them from Hedwig's left leg which she held up steadily for him to remove and then settled herself on his desk, doing her best to ignore Pigwidgeon. He opened the first which was barely more than a note on a rag of parchment and read:

Dear Harry,

Sirius here. You may have heard I was sighted by the Ministry earlier this month. Well I'm just writing this to let you know I'm back in hiding and safe, nobody should be able to find me where I am now.

I doubt if anybody who knows it will tell you this Harry, but I feel it's important for you to know that there have been some very unsettling things going on since Voldemort has been returned to a body, but I don't want to go into details yet, and I wouldn't want to worry you unnecessarily; you've been through enough these past months without having anything else on your mind. I've heard all about what happened to you before the holidays and I swear to you Harry that I won't be as compassionate, whether you ask it of me or not, if I ever have the misfortune of coming across that rat of a man Wormtail again. I don't know if McGonagall's taught you this yet, but what animal you transform in to when you become an animagi can say a lot about the person you are. Wormtail's filthy snivelling little rodent is no exception to the rule. If I ever encounter him again he's a dead man, and I'll spend the rest of my days in Azkaban without a care knowing what I rid the world of to get there, I promise you that Harry, and unlike some people, I keep my promises.

Keep an eye out for anything suspicious and write to me or Dumbledore straight away if you see anything, or something, no matter how small happens, you never know if it could be important.

Keep going, and try and have fun. Contact me if you have any troubles with your Aunt and Uncle,

Sirius.

Harry didn't know whether to be concerned that unsettling things had been going on (although he expected there would be after the events of the last school year), or relieved Sirius was safe, but he was grateful of Sirius' supportive honesty.

Sirius had been a very good friend of Harry's parents, who had made him Harry's Godfather. 13 years ago, everyone believed Sirius had betrayed the Potters to Voldemort and had been imprisoned. 2 years ago, Sirius had escaped the wizard prison Azkaban, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had found he was innocent, but their story was not believed and Sirius had been forced to go into hiding. The only thing that kept the Dursleys from locking up Harry's school things and who knows what else was the ir fear that Harry would contact Sirius for help. Harry himself was an under-aged wizard, and couldn't legally perform magic out of school, but Sirius could, and that combined with the fact he was an escaped convict who most still thought to be a murderer (although Harry had failed to mention to the Dursleys he was innocent), kept them from being quite as horrible to Harry as they might be. The Hogwarts owl flew out the window and Harry was just about to sit down and compose some replies when there was a shout from downstairs demanding he hurry up and help with the breakfast; Aunt Petunia was awake.

Harry plodded miserably down the stairs and Aunt Petunia's bony face emerged from the kitchen.

"Come on, hurry up, don't you give me that smarmy face! I need you to keep an eye on the toast!"

Harry spent the next half an hour being assigned menial tasks until Uncle Vernon, and eventually Dudley came downstairs. Ten minutes later he was seated at the table with the rest of the Dursleys eating bran flakes in low fat milk. Uncle Vernon was examining the post Harry had brought in from the hall, Aunt Petunia was analysing the morning paper, and Dudley was stuffing his face with every last morcel of his cereal.

"The deal with Nesbit & Son came through, so we can upgrade. They arrived this morning!" Uncle vernon held up a small but thick envelope with a twinkle in his eye.

"Wonderful dear!" Aunt Petunia exclaimed, rising from her seat. "I'll get on to Mrs Figg, see if she's got over the flu yet."

"If she hasn't he isn't coming!" Dudley shouted vehemently, staring in Harry's direction. "Of course he isn't! He can go and stay with that red-head lot like he did last year."

"What's happenning?" Asked Harry unsurely, completely oblivious to what was being discussed before him. "We're going to Mallorca. You've managed to ruin any chance of us going on holiday the past four summers but not this time! You'll be staying with Mrs Figg across the road unless you can clear off with that podgy woman and her husband."

"You mean Mr and Mrs Weasley?" said Harry through gritted teeth, Uncle Vernon, being comparable in body fat to his son, calling anyone "podgy" was a push. "Yes them. Mind you, they'll have to pick you up somewhere else, I'm not having them in our house again."

Uncle Vernon's plump cheeks purpled slightly, probably recalling, as Harry was, the disaster that had been the Weasleys' appearance in Privet Drive last year which had involved the Dursleys' ornamental electric fireplace being blasted half-way across the living room.

"I can't go there this year." said Harry quietly. "Well well well! Don't want they do you?! Can't say I blame them! Mrs Figg it is then, but don't you bother her. Any funny behaviour and we'll hear about it, you can count on that boy. I don't want any mention of your abnormality to anyone, understood?"

"How will I get to school?" Harry enquired. "Get a bus." Uncle Vernon said curtly. "But I haven't got any money!" Harry pointed out. "Then you'll have to earn some won't you! Frankly I don't care, this conversation ends here. You'll go to Mrs Figg's tomorrow when we set off, but you can't take that ruddy owl with you, the poor woman'd have a fit. I've put all your twisted little things in the garden shed. I've given Mrs Figg the key and she'll let you have it on September the first so you can get your things. You're to post it back through the letter box when you've got them, is that clear?"

"Yes," said Harry reluctantly. "Good. And it better be, because if I find you've caused any disturbance when we get back, any at all, you'll be in trouble."

***

Mrs Figg had got over the flu and at ten past-seven Harry was taken over the road to her house by a very smug Uncle Vernon. Although elderly Mrs Figg had never been oppressive like the Dursleys, she insisted on boring him with every tiny detail about her many cats, usually accompanied with an endless stream of photos of various friends and relatives but mostly cats, cats, and more cats. As Uncle Vernon rang the doorbell, Harry decided to shut down mentally and confine his responses to simple words of agreement, his usual tactic he had used on his previous stays with Mrs Figg. A slightly hunched woman with a frizzy mass of red hair emerged from behind the door.

"Ah, Mrs Figg! Hope this isn't too much of a bother, I take it Petunia explained on the phone."

"That's right dear, how are you and Petunia?"

"Oh fine, fine, quite fine!"

"And little Dudley, bless him?"

"Oh yes, all in good shape."

Harry couldn't hold in a snort which got him several very hard pats on the back disguised as fatherly gestures. Uncle Vernon glanced at his watch.

"Well must be off, I do hope this isn't any trouble, he can be a handful."

"Oh no dear, quite fine, you be off on your holidays."

"Thank you! And do try and have a nice summer yourself, despite, erm, him."

"That I will my dear, see you in two weeks' time."

And with that, Uncle Vernon was off back to Privet Drive. Harry heard some vague shouts from Dudley who seemed to have left his swimming trunks in the hall, and then he was promptly smuggled into Mrs Figg's very catty house.