Harry Potter and the Power Behind the Door

Chapter 2 - Owls with O.W.L.s

The rest of the week went by in a blur as he spent most of his time taking tea with Mrs. Figg or doing his homework. Finally, the day on which he was planned to leave arrived, and Harry was anxious to get to number 12 Grimmauld Place. He packed up the little bit he had, and when that was done, began a great search of his room, looking for any items he might have missed. He saw the broken mirror Sirius had given him laying on his desk where he had left it. In an effort to keep a token of his godfather's life, he wrapped it carefully and put it in his trunk. He returned to his search, and as soon as it was done, he was left with nothing to do other than pace in angst, until he felt his stomach grumbling. Realizing he had not had breakfast yet, he headed downstairs, where Uncle Vernon and Dudley were sitting at the table as Aunt Petunia prepared their meal. No one paid any attention to him as he entered the room, but as soon as he sat down at the table, Aunt Petunia began heaping food unto his plate. Harry wondered how he had not gained any weight over the summer, considering his Aunt kept giving him very large portions of food, assuming he was as demanding as Dudley. Harry took a few bites but stopped quickly. His fretfulness was making him nauseous, and he certainly could not eat the entire share Petunia had given him. He put his fork down and noticed Uncle Vernon peeping at him from over his newspaper.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked, unsure why his uncle was wearing that particular look of concern on his face. It all became clear when Uncle Vernon decided to verbalize his thoughts.

"How exactly are you getting to this place?" he said with a very suspicious look in his eye. Harry knew exactly what he was talking about. Apparently, Uncle Vernon had not yet forgotten the time when the Weasleys had flooed into his living room, destroying it in the process. Or when they had flown a car to his bedroom window. Harry began to reassure them by explaining about the blue car that would come and get him when Aunt Petunia interrupted him.

"It doesn't fly does...?" She never got to finish her sentence, as a large brown owl swooped in through the window, dropping a letter on Vernon's balding skull. Aunt Petunia yelped as Dudley jumped off his chair and Uncle Vernon let all of his pent up anger out.

"What in this wide, cruel world," he paused here to take a breath, so he could bellow the rest all the louder, "IS THIS OWL DOING IN MY HOUSE!"

Aunt Petunia whacked him, making him stand up, look into her eyes, only to sit himself back down, breathing through his nose so forcefully that anyone going by would have thought he was having an asthma attack. Harry bent down and grabbed the letter from the floor, where it had fallen after Vernon's violent outburst. On the back was the Ministry seal, and when Harry turned it over, he saw that it was addressed:

To the guardians of

Harry James Potter

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging, Surrey

"Why would they send something to them?" Harry asked more to himself than anything. Then he remembered the howler Aunt Petunia had received the previous year. Harry was about to open the letter when Uncle Vernon wrenched it from his grip, almost ripping it in the process.

"It's addressed to us, we're the ones who will open it," he declared, breaking the seal and revealing what was inside. Pulling out the purple parchment, Vernon stared at it in disgust before beginning to read.

To the parents or guardians of Harry James Potter:

Enclosed in this envelope are the results of your son or charge's Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Trained and unbiased professionals administer this test during the fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. These will be critical to your child's future agenda. No matter what the results, be proud of their accomplishments and continue to encourage them to follow their own ambitions.

Athena Goshfunckle,

Ministry of Magic,

Department of learning and Magical Testing.

Uncle Vernon stopped reading, asking, "What does this mean?"

"It means I've finally gotten my test results back," Harry answered, waiting for his Uncle to read what he had gotten. To his disappointment, it was not to come so easily.

Examining the second piece of parchment on which Harry's results were printed, Vernon repeated more forcefully, "What does this mean, boy?"

"What your uncle means to say is, what do all these letters stand for?" explained Aunt Petunia, who had been watching over her husband's shoulder.

Harry was reluctant to explain the entire grading system, but under his uncle's stern gaze, he thought it would be preferable to go ahead and do it. He enlightened them about the Outstanding to Dreadful system, leaving out Troll, and then he watched as Aunt Petunia's eyebrows rose. The further down the paper she went, the higher her eyebrows got, and Harry wondered if it was because his grades were extraordinarily excellent, or absolutely atrocious. Uncle Vernon's eyes kept staring in the same place, and his lips were twitching, as if he was trying to keep himself from smiling too much. Harry's heart plummeted when he realized what that meant. He must have done horrible. Nothing else could make his uncle this gleeful. Unable to wait to see his results anymore, he ripped the paper out of Vernon's hands, certain he would find an array of D's, ruining all of his chances at any career after Hogwarts. Peering down at the parchment, Harry felt his mouth dropping open in astonishment. His heart began pounding painfully in his chest as he looked from one mark to the next.

Transfiguration - E McGonagall

Potions - O Snape

Charms - E Flitwick

History of Magic - D Binns

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O Umbridge

Astronomy - A Sinistra

Care of Magical Creatures - E Hagrid

Divination - P Trelawney / Firenze

Herbology - E Sprout

Harry grabbed the nearest chair and sat down slowly, still stunned. Of course he hadn't done well in History of Magic, Astronomy or Divination, he hadn't expected to. What surprised him the most was the great big O beside Potions. Harry broke out in a grin just thinking about it. Snape would hate him for making it into his advanced class, but he had certainly proved the slimy git wrong. Harry was lost in thought, imagining the look of distaste and horror on Snape's face when he realized that his least favorite student would be with him for yet another year, when his aunt got his attention by clearing her throat quietly.

"Well, it seems you had... adequate grades on these exams of yours." Aunt Petunia looked uncomfortable and cleared her throat again before adding, "Um... good work." She seemed surprised that those words had come out of her mouth, and before anything else could be said, she hurried out of the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon watched her go out, shaking his head with a slight frown on his face, before turning back to Harry, his scowl slowly becoming an ugly, mean-looking grin. "So. This useless school you insist on going to can't even teach the few subjects it has that are almost sensible. Dreadful in History and barely an Acceptable in Astronomy. I can't say I'm surprised your parents turned out to be worthless." Uncle Vernon had apparently forgotten about the previous year's threats from the members of the Order of the Phoenix, or else his bitterness had built up so much over the summer that not even a warning as obvious as Mad-eye's could keep it from bubbling over. "I always knew you'd never amount to anything. Look at Dudley here, he's about to start an internship at Grunnings next year, and he's the best boxer in his age group."

"Of course!" Harry replied angrily, wiping the self-satisfied smirk off Dudley's face. "He's twice the size of any normal sixteen-year-old."

At this blatant insult, Vernon took a menacing step toward Harry, his face turning a deep shade of red. "How dare you insult MY SON!"

"You insulted my parents!" Harry snapped back, whose anger was now at least as elevated as his uncle's. "At least they amounted to something in life. All your son can do is go around beating up skinny ten-year-olds with his gang of idiots. If I were you, I would have disowned him by the time he was ten."

Uncle Vernon stalked the rest of the way to Harry and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. As he was lifted from the ground, Harry noticed a cat sprinting away from the house, probably frightened off by Harry and Vernon's screams. "You dare insult us after all we've done for you," he said, his voice now dangerously low. "You completely disrupted our family life when you arrived here, and for ten years you were a nuisance to us day and night. Then you invaded Dudley's extra room, did that horrible trick on my sister, and almost killed my son just last year." His voice got louder and louder as he numbered the ways in which Harry had inconvenienced his family until finally he was screaming his head off, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. "AND NOW YOU'RE INSULTING MY SON! That's it! Petunia was able to convince me to keep you for all these years, but this is it. You have crossed the line." Vernon was about to announce that Harry was officially evicted from the house, never to return, when there was a loud and urgent knock at the door.

"Go get the door Dudley," Uncle Vernon ordered, looking venomously at Harry as he put him down. Dudley waddled out of the room as fast as his legs could take him, scared by his father's display of anger. Harry massaged his throat where his shirt had been cutting off his air, and Vernon snapped at him to straighten himself up before whoever was at the door saw him. Harry looked up at his uncle, anger still flowing through his veins, but he did as he was told nevertheless. In an effort to get as far away from his uncle as possible, he stomped into the hall, where he saw Mrs. Figg trying to get into the house past Dudley, a worried look on her face.

"There you are Harry," she said, obviously relieved at seeing him alive. "Mr. Tippers told me you were in trouble."

"I'm fine," Harry replied, shooting a weary glance at his uncle.

"Of course you are, dear, now pack up all your stuff," she countered, shooting daggers at Harry's aggressor.

Not wanting to argue, Harry bolted up to his room and gathered his trunk and Hedwig's cage. He was about to hurry back down the stairs, when he heard Mrs. Figg screaming at Uncle Vernon and thought better of interrupting.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, YOU OLD MUGGLE FOOL? YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH AND WHAT HE'S DONE TO HELP KEEP YOU SAFE AND HELP YOUR FAMILY. YOU ARE A SORRY EXCUSE FOR A MAN..."

Harry decided to enter the room at this point, and the scene before him was shocking. Uncle Vernon was cowering in a corner while little Mrs. Figg towered over him. Noticing Harry's entrance, she stopped yelling at once and took Hedwig's cage from him, indicating that he should lead the way out. Once on the road, Mrs. Figg apologized to Harry for having arrived so late. "For someone as old as me, it's hard to run two blocks at a sprint."

"How did your cat warn you that Uncle Vernon was attacking me?" Harry asked, wondering if Mr. Tippers was the cat he had seen running off after his uncle had grabbed his collar.

"Oh, you know, I just know my cats so well, I tend to understand what they want. I have been asking them to keep a watch on you at all times, just in case something like this happened."

Harry could tell she wasn't telling him all of it, but he let it be, simply glad to have gotten away from the Dursleys. They did not speak at all for the rest of the walk, Harry trying to guess at what Mrs. Figg was keeping quiet about, and Mrs. Figg watching her ward's every move, taking her guard duties very seriously. When they reached her house, a thought struck Harry, causing him to look back at number 4 Privet Drive in panic.

"Mrs. Figg! I'm supposed to get picked up by Lupin and Tonks today. How will they know I'm not at the Dursleys?"

"I can send a message to them, Harry," Mrs. Figg reassured him.

"But an owl will never get there in time!" Harry shot back, unhappy about having to return to the Dursleys, if only for ten minutes.

"Hasn't Dumbledore told you? We have other ways of communicating that do not involve floo, or anything the ministry can track, for that matter." She looked at him thoughtfully before adding, "Now go sit down while I go into the kitchen to get some tea."

Following her instructions, he went into the living room, where he put his trunk on the ground and slumped into the moth eaten chair next to the sofa. As Harry thought back on the fight with Uncle Vernon, an intense wave of sadness and fury came over him. He wished he had known his parents, and he wished Sirius could still be here with him. All he wanted to do was go out and rip Voldemort apart one piece at a time and shove him down Bellatrix Lestrange's throat piece by piece, as painfully as he could.

When Mrs. Figg entered the room, she immediately noticed that Harry had a sad introspective look on his face. "What's wrong, Harry dear?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "Does it have anything to do with Uncle Vernon?" she continued, trying to pry it out of him. Still after no response, she said, "Does it have to do with Sirius?" After another pause, she added, "You can talk to me, you know."

Harry, coming out of his trance, realized that he really did need someone to talk to. Making his mind up, he began explaining what he was thinking. "It's just that, for the first time I saw a chance for change in my life, and it looked good. I'd have a father-like figure to have fun and live with as soon as they got every thing in order. Then, just because I messed up, it's never going to happen. It's like all my hopes have fallen through that stupid archway with Sirius." At this last remark, Harry looked down at his hands, resting on his lap, a small tear running down his face.

Mrs. Figg kneeled down in front of him and waited for him to look up, then she said, "I know what you're going through, Harry. As I told you the first time you came over this summer, we all lose people in our lives, people we love, people we cherish, and maybe even some people that we only know as acquaintances. It hurts, it truly does, but we have to live on, especially in this time of terror, and know that they did not die for nothing. They gave their lives for something bigger than us, and they gave their lives so that others could live. Just promise me, Harry, that when you face Voldemort, as we both know you will someday soon, remember those people who died so that we may live. Remember your parents, Sirius, and even my husband Charles." Mrs. Figg, a tear slipping down her cheek, stood up and exited the room.

Harry looked around in mild shock, thinking about Mrs. Figg's stirring speech. It was true, too. Many people had died, just for the sake of one man. With that thought, Harry promised himself that he would not allow Voldemort to hurt anyone else he loved, and would take revenge on the one man that had caused such terror that his name would not be spoken for decades.

Harry's train of thought was broken by a letter falling through the chimney and landing into the fire. Harry rushed to it, unsure what it was, but certain it wasn't meant to be burned upon arrival. When he got to the fireplace, he was surprised to see that the letter did not even have one burn mark. "Mrs. Figg!" Harry shouted. "How can we extinguish this fire without magic?"

"Why would you want to do that?" Mrs. Figg asked from the other room.

"There's a letter in here!"

"Well, it's probably too late for it now, dear."

"No, it isn't burning."

Upon hearing this, Mrs. Figg hurried to the living room, curious about this strange occurrence. "Why don't you use the tongs?" she suggested helpfully. Harry grabbed them and reached into the fire, digging the letter out from under a log that had fallen on it. He was very careful with the paper at first, in case it was still hot from the fire, but it seemed to have kept room temperature throughout its ordeal. Seeing no harm, Harry opened it.

"Well, what does it say?" Mrs. Figg asked, curious as ever.

"Here, you can read it aloud," Harry volunteered her, knowing she would be pleased with the offer.

Dear Harry,

I'm writing to give you congratulations on how well you did on your O.W.L.s and to tell you that you will be able to take the necessary classes for Auror training. I knew you could do it all along. I have to tell you, Potter, that you are certainly one of my class favorites, and most of the other teachers agree. You've exceeded all of our expectations by constantly bouncing back despite what happened to you. Now, I'm warning you Potter, you will not be aware of our favoritism in the grades you get, so you better continue to study hard. Anytime you need my help, ask me, and I will be happy to lend a hand. I want to see you succeed, Harry, I want you to succeed despite what everyone says, and I want you to have a longer life than anyone will give you credit for.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry was glad that McGonagall was on his side, especially since he was going to have to be in Snape's class for another year. As certain as death and taxes was the fact that Snape hated him.

The rest of the day passed by quickly and before Harry knew it, it was almost time for Lupin and Tonks to be arriving. He couldn't wait to see all of his friends again, but he would miss Mrs. Figg over the next few months. With three minutes till six twenty-three, Mrs. Figg came up to him and hugged him affectionately.

"Harry, I just want you to know that I'll be thinking of you while you're away, and I want you to bear in mind what I told you this afternoon."

Right as she said this, there was a loud honk outside, and Harry hurried out the door to see his friends, Mrs. Figg at his heels. He got to the car where Tonks hopped out with a smile on her face and said, "Wotcha Harry." She helped him stow his things in the back of the car and both headed back to the car doors. Tonks got into the passenger seat, and Harry waved one last time to Mrs. Figg before jumping into the back where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.