Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Under Attack

Midnight, and the moon shone brightly over an empty field, catching the nightlife in its open gaze. Midnight, and the only sounds audible were those of the crickets, the corn swaying in the gentle breeze, and the occasional Night Jar. Midnight.

A lone figure came into this field and glanced at his watch. He was dressed all in black; the trousers, the boots, the shirt, the hat, the robe - all black. He glanced at his watch again, tapped it a few times, and then uttered a curse.

At that moment a snapping twig from behind him turned his attention away from its initial direction. A scurrying of leaves and a squelching of mud later and he was soon in the company of another character. This gentleman also all in black, bowed and made general obeisance to him before apologising in slightly naseled and snivelling voice.

"Forgive my tardiness my lord, but the vale of woods over there was the closest I was able to get without being splinched."

"Very well Wormtail, do you have it?"

"Yes my lord. I cast the invisibility charm on it like you said, and then summoned it to me."

"Very good indeed Wormtail. And where were you when you summoned it?"

"About five minutes out of Hogsmeade, my lord."

"My, my Wormtail, you ARE becoming powerful. That hand has suited you well I believe."

"Yes my lord," Wormtail cringed. "You are most benevolent!"

"Now then, "I solemnly swear I am Up To No Good!" " How apropos!" "My Lord" muttered to himself, for that was exactly what he was up to.

As he tapped his wand on the piece of old and tattered parchment, he smiled as an array of letters appeared before him, but the smile fell rapidly from his features as the letters arranged themselves into the words

"And how do you swear, most esteemed master of mischief?"

"What is THIS?" he spat, looming menacingly over the one called Wormtail.

"I, I..., I do not know my lord." He cowered at the flaming red eyes burning a hole right through him. He feared what would come next beyond all retribution. Pain is punishment in itself, but from the torturing hands of the master, your very soul was on fire.

There was a short pause, during which it seemed the very night itself had stood still. The only sounds that could be heard were the heavy breathing and tiny cries and whimpers from the one called Wormtail. Everything else, including "My Lord", was silent as death. It was as though the very world itself was pondering his fate.

"Stop you're snivelling, Wormtail!" My Lord said finally. "You have done well with what you knew. I admit that even I did not foresee this. No matter. We still have the element of surprise on our side. Let us move now!"

They seared swiftly through the woods behind them, where Wormtail had appeared, and made their way to the other side. As they entered the clearing on the other side of the woods, they paused for a moment to stare distastefully at the currently unoccupied wooden hut that stood there. In the distance they could see a magnificent castle and they hurried onwards with an air of finality and purpose.

Just as they approached the gates, the one called Wormtail, who was walking slightly ahead of his master stopped and stared up into the sky. Just as the master was about to open his mouth to speak, a gentle but firm voice roared from above them,

"In order to earn your passage past me,

First you must solve my own riddles three!"

"I do not have time to play foolish games!" the master roared. He took out his magic wand, raised it to whatever Wormtail was staring at, and roared once again.

There was a blinding flash of bright green light, an intoxicating pillar of smoke, and then silence.

The Birthday Boy

In a small cluttered bedroom in a village far away from that castle, Harry awoke with a start. He pulled on his glasses, and tiptoed across the room to examine himself in the mirror. He was sweating profusely. He turned to his bed and noticed the sheets underneath the duvet. He had been tossing and turning incredibly heavily. There was also a dark patch on the sheet. In a moment of horror, he looked down at his Pyjama Trousers. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was only sweat! Harry opened the window to let the night time air circulate through this veritable tomb of a bedroom he was living in.

He glanced at the broken clock radio on one of the many cluttered shelves. It was battery powered and one of Dudley's latest birthday rejects in a vain attempt to get little "Duddeykins" up to partake in those beastly exercises that Miss Juniper, the Smeltings nurse had assigned for him. July 30^th, 11.58pm. Only two more minutes, he smiled to himself.

He looked around his bedroom with a mixture of sorrow, disdain, amusement and pity.

Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. Just to look at him you wouldn't be able to tell of course. Harry was of perhaps slightly under-average height for his age, with bright (some would say startlingly so) green eyes, and a shock of jet-black hair that was by all accounts impossible to control. Perched precariously on the bridge of his nose were a pair of rather battered wire-rimmed glasses. All in all, he looked pretty normal indeed. The only thing that you might consider slightly odd about him, was a curious lightning-shaped scar that he had on his forehead. But there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary in that either. Everyone has scars. Everyone gets scars at some time or another. They are just part of life. The only thing you might comment on was the fact that the scar was in the shape of a bolt of lightning. But still, that isn't particularly uncommon either. Scars can be all sorts of shapes. Harry had once heard tell that his own headmaster had a scar on his knee, which was a perfect replica of the London underground, although how he got it was still a mystery.

You wouldn't consider Harry's scar anything out of the ordinary, unless you knew the history behind it.

Long ago, about thirteen and a half years ago now, Harry was orphaned. Someone came to his house on Halloween and killed his parents, and in the process tried to kill him too.

The reason? Harry was a wizard.

His parents, Lily and James Potter were as well. And they were killed by the most feared Wizard of their day (or - as he would argue - ANY day) Lord Voldemort. But when Voldemort turned his wand on Harry to use the same Unforgivable Curse that he had used on Harry's parents - Avada Kedavra - something went wrong, and he was unable to kill him, being all but killed himself by the backlash of the spell.

And for this Harry is amongst the most celebrated Wizards of his day.

All this Harry had no idea about. No idea whatsoever, until an influx of letters delivered by an outstanding array of owls bombarded his Muggle (non-magic) family. They refused to acknowledge this until they were tracked down by a half-giant going by the name of Rubeus Hagrid, and the truth came out. His Aunt and Uncle had told him, to his chagrin and annoyance, that his parents had been killed in a car crash; something almost unheard of in the Wizarding World - A few healing spells and a day or so of rest and they would have been as right as rain. Even the car would appear to come out unscathed. (Of course the car wouldn't be allowed to be enchanted, otherwise the owner could find himself or herself in serious trouble with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department of the Ministry of Magic, but apart from that, a little magical repair-work and it would be good as new.) A car crash? HMMMMPH!

Now however, due to a sequence of unforeseen circumstances arising from the previous two years, Voldemort was now restored to power.

Since then Harry had passed many sleepless nights thinking about the events that had occurred, looking back and forth between them and wondering if he could have done anything different. He was thinking about it now.

In fact, so lost in his thoughts was he, that he hadn't even noticed that his scar wasn't actually hurting. He knew exactly who the two gentlemen in the dream were (although, by who they were, you would hardly call them gentlemen of any description!). He had known for the past two years to gentlemen were. "Wormtail" was a deceitful and cowardly man by the name of Peter Pettigrew; an old friend of Harry's father who betrayed him to Voldemort (the other Gentleman in his dream) and framed James Potter's best friend Sirius Black (Harry's Godfather) for their murder. Something else that has to be said about Wormtail is the derivation of the name. What had started out as a fond epithet had now become an expression of disdain and disgust. Like Harry's father and Godfather, Wormtail was an unregistered Animagus. That is to say, they were wizards who were able to take the forms of animals at will. They did this when they were at Harry's school Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to help a friend. They were an incorrigible group of pranksters who called themselves the Marauders. Their friend, Remus Lupin was a Werewolf, and so was very lonely before they became friends. In order to remain friends with him, even when he transformed they became Animagi, because a Werewolf is only a danger to people. Their nicknames are still famous today amongst pranksters who have ever fully known the grounds of Hogwarts. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Mooney was a Werewolf, Wormtail was a Rat, Padfoot was a large dog, and Prongs, was a magnificent stag and Harry's father. It was Wormtail that betrayed. Never had the old gangster adage "You dirty rat!" meant more to Harry than when he learned of this.

A sharp tapping at his window drew him forcefully away from his thoughts. A small flock of owls, replete with parcels and missives had congregated on the outer sill of his window and were hooting quietly. By now, Harry's windowsill was infamous in the owl-world, no doubt reported by Hedwig (Harry's own Snowy owl) during her flights from Hogwarts and the occasional sorties she was allowed to make whilst residing at Privet Drive. They knew all to well of the loud and bumbling oaf who, although he was unable to physically harm them - he was far too slow - still proved a minor annoyance and he had locked Hedwig up in her cage on many occasions. With the help of Dumbledore, however, owing to his special circumstances, he had managed to get the ministry to agree to allow him a limited number of spells to his arsenal. A limit of four spells. Simple but effective spells to allow Harry to do his homework and to allow Hedwig to fly around detectable to none but Harry and a limited selection of four wizards and wizards, whom were all present by necessity at the casting; Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and of course Dumbledore. The spell was designed so that outside of Number Four, Privet Drive, Hedwig would be completely invisible to all except the stated four. The other spells were "Alohamora" - an unlocking spell that Harry solely used for unlocking Hedwig's Cage and His own bedroom window, "Lumos" - a simple lighting spell so that Harry could do his Homework under the cover of his duvet without Uncle Vernon complaining. Uncle Vernon had, over the previous year, if possible, become even more hostile towards Harry and this hostility manifested itself in - amongst other fashions - cutting all electricity to Harry's bedroom. (The light, which Harry had used to look at himself in the mirror when he woke up, was the Lumos spell.) The fourth spell, of course was the simple counter to the light spell "Nox" which extinguished the light from the caster's wand. During the daytime of course, Uncle Vernon would have Harry working in the garden and cleaning every inch of the house that wasn't personal to Himself and Aunt Petunia or Dudley, so of course there was no time for homework then!

Harry smiled broadly as, by the light of his now illuminated wand, aided by the stark moonlight filtering in through the window, Harry recognised one of the owl's immediately. It was exceptionally small, grey, and somewhat resembling a fluffy snitch with tiny legs. It was Pigwidgeon - the somewhat exuberant owl belonging to his best friend Ron Weasley. He also recognised an exceedingly old and battered owl by the name of Errol who was the Weasley's family owl.

To prevent such visits, Uncle Vernon had changed Harry's window sometime over the previous year so that it was a large frame in the main body of the window with only a small flap at the top. He thought that the owls were too stupid to know how to get through. One thing he forgot, however, is that firstly owls can fly, and secondly, his nephew loved owls. He did after all own one himself.

Harry nodded gently and hooted softly to himself. Hedwig blinked in approval, as Harry climbed upon the inner windowsill, balancing carefully, and placed his arm out of the window.

All the owls stood back as Errol was the first aboard. He jumped tiredly into the air, swooped into what was - for Errol - a rather graceful ark, before coming to perch on Harry's arm. Harry brought his arm in carefully, although still almost knocking Errol out as the tired owl failed to notice the low bridge of the window. Harry smiled wryly to himself and with a whispered "Just a minute", climbed off the windowsill and placed Errol on the bed just long enough to remove the parcel and letter from his tired legs, before he whisked him into Hedwig's cage where he drank weakly from a tray of cool water. He looked up and hooted gratefully before passing out on the floor of the cage. Hedwig hooted softly and shook her head with what Harry had come to know as love and pity, but also respect. It was a joke amongst the owls that Errol would, one of these days literally fall apart with the effort of one of these journeys. Still he was loyal to his family and his task and for that he was well respected.

Stifling a tired chuckle he once again mounted the windowsill to allow passage into his bedroom of the other half-dozen or so owls. Most of these owls were perched sedately on Harry's bed. Only "Pig" was whizzing about as usual looking like a giant hyperactive bit of belly-button fluff. Only this time he had evidently been warned by the other owls in the group against making too much noise. He didn't even utter a single hoot.

He approached all the trivial looking packages first.

A rather young-looking barn owl gazed at Harry and proffered his leg to him. He glanced at the package and noticed the crest on the accompanying letter. He tore open the package and groaned. There in the palm of his hand were three rather large packets of Eyeloppe's Finest Owl Treats. He had forgotten to cancel his order. He glanced at the letter, broke the seal and read.

Dear Mr Potter

Please find enclosed your current Owl Treat's order for this fortnight.

I hope that Hedwig is well and you are taking good care of her.

Thank you very much for your custom and do not forget to use us in the future in the future for all your owling needs.

Yours Sincerely

Evita Eyeloppe

PS. Due to current dark activity (this appeared in a more shuddery handwriting, as if Ms Eyeloppe had actually shivered involuntarily whilst writing.) I regret to inform you that some changes have had to be made to our price lists, and unfortunately Owl Treats have been effected. Therefore the new charge on your order is six Sickles and twenty-one Knuts. Once again, our most sincere apologies.

Harry sighed again, took out his quill and scribbled a brief note on the back of this short missive.

Dear Ms Eyeloppe

Please find enclosed the required moneys for the Owl Treats.
Hedwig is very well thank you very much and is flying a lot more regularly than she used to in the summer period.

Please cancel my order for the Owl Treats for the remaining period as I have more than enough to see Hedwig and any visitor's we may have until well into the first few weeks of next term. I will Owl you, probably with Hedwig herself, when I next need them.

Thank you very much.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter.

Harry took his bag of money from his secret hiding place in the floor under his bed and placed seven Silver Sickles in the pouch around the owl's ankle. He scrunched up the old packet of finished box of Owl Treats and opened the new one. As it was time for Hedwig's flight anyway, he took her out of her cage, gave Hedwig the first treat of the new box and then set her outside. She perched happily on the sill waiting for the Barn Owl. Harry was unable to stop a grin from spreading all over his face, as he realised that he always turned up at this time of night when he had a delivery to make, and inevitably they would go off hunting together in the night.

"He only wants you for your Owl Treats, Hedwig old girl!" he had said to her. She hooted indignantly but still nipped him on the finger to let him know she was only playing too.

He gave the second treat to the Barn Owl, added a Postscript, which said "Keep the change", and then proffered his arm so that he could climb out of the window.

"Bye Hedwig, Bye Bracken! See you both later!" he said quietly as, with a single motion, the two owls made their way silently into the beautiful and clear night.

Having done that, he turned his attention to the other unfamiliar owls. Despite, or maybe because of the events of the previous term, Harry had decided, like Hermione - Harry's other best friend at Hogwarts - to have the Daily Prophet delivered so he could find out what was going on in the Wizarding world. The front page today was mercifully devoid of any trace of dark activity. The only thing of note was the reported attack on a camp of Wizards in the Amazon Rainforests. A disturbed sleeping camper had awoken only to find that three of his tent-mates had been apparently consumed and a fourth had been killed and was in the process of being digested by the Lethifold. This camper had woken up immediately at the horror unfolding before him and had had the presence of mind to perform the Patronus charm before the Lethifold had the chance to turn on Himself and the other four surviving tent-mates. He kept his Patronus charm active until the monster was clear of both their, and their female companions' tents. For his brave actions he had been awarded the Order of Merlin, fourth class.

"It is tragic," he thought, a little wanly. "But at least it was relatively unavoidable." He shook his head sadly and turned his attention to the other three unfamiliar owls. Although the owls were not familiar, the handwriting was, gloriously so.

Firstly he opened the slightly larger than normal letter bearing emerald-green writing and the Hogwarts Seal. He gasped. The letter felt heavier and more solid than usual. He ripped the envelope practically to shreds before nearly fainting. He had been made Prefect! He couldn't help smiling. He glanced at the accompanying letters. Firstly was his letter reminding him of the start date of term (First of September as per usual.) and the accompanying list of books required for the year. Harry was startled at the sheer volume of books required - about three times the number they needed for the previous year! He then looked at the second letter. It was short and to the point.

Dear Mr Potter

Please find enclosed your badge for your appointment as 5^th year prefect. Your responsibilities include listening to the suggestions of the students for improving the efficiency and standards of the school, ensuring the safety of all the students, including yourself and you fellow prefects in times of crisis (may mercy forbid) and helping in the preparation for social events that take place throughout the year. And of course helping First Years around the school during the first few weeks of term.

Our heartiest congratulations to you and your fellow prefects.

Yours sincerely

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

He smiled broadly and opened the next letter, which came with a small Parcel. He tore open the parcel and stared at it. It was a beautiful gold watch, the face a pristine white with dark green digits. At the centre of the watch was a minute stag, the Antlers indicating the Minutes and the Legs indicating the Hours. He opened the letter slowly. There was very little writing. No handwriting writing in fact. The letters and pictures were cut out of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. There were three words;

"The Marauders' Watch"

followed by a picture of a wand crossed out and a picture of a hand circled. At the bottom of the sheet was a large muddy Paw-Print. This time Harry felt sure he was going to faint. He looked around him wildly to make sure he was not disturbing the Durseleys. He looked at the picture trying to decipher the meaning. He shrugged his shoulders and decided to try his theory out.

He gingerly placed his finger on the glass watch face, closed his eyes, and muttered. Nothing happened.

Harry, not being put off, decided to try again. He closed his eyes again, muttered, took in a deep breath, and opened them again.

Still nothing.

A little perturbed, he started pacing his room wondering what he was doing wrong. He then settled down and tried to think about it rationally. He had touched the face with his finger, he had said the incantation, so why wasn't this working?

"Maybe I should ask someone," he thought. "Not Ron. He knows plenty of magic, but not why it works. Dumbledore? I don't think he'd be too happy knowing that there where TWO Marauder's Maps running about Hogwarts! Hermione? No, there must be someone else. Hermione is a lovely girl and an excellent witch who probably knows exactly why this isn't working, but still she certainly would have doubts about this, and getting her to see sense is sometimes like... like... like trying to keep hold of a bucking broom and she certainly..."

Harry stopped. He closed his eyes gave a deep groan and bashed his head against the bricked wall of his bedroom so as not to disturb his sleeping relatives. His mind drifted back to his first year at Hogwarts. He felt the wind rushing through his hair as he was up on his broom in his first ever Quidditch match. The joy he felt at figuring out what he was doing wrong was rather like the exhilaration of flying and the anticipation with which he was searching for the Snitch. Then he felt his stomach lurch as once again, his old faithful Nimbus 2000 (he still kept the splinters, even a year and a half later! His broom was smashed to splinters in his third year after a Dementor had caused him to fall off his broom (Before he had learned his Patronus) and a gust of wind had sent it flying into the Whomping Willow - A vicious tree who's bite and bark were just as lethal!)) had begun bucking uncontrollably. He heard Hermione shout to Ron that Snape (The begrudging sallow-faced potions master and head of Slytherin house) was Jinxing the broom. His mind then raced forward to a conversation he, Ron, and Hermione had had with Hagrid shortly afterwards.

"Don't be ridiculous 'Ermione!" Hagrid, the loveable half giant, had said. "Snape would never..."

"But he did!" Harry could hear his great friend's shrill voice squeaking even now. "I recognise a spell when I see one. You have to maintain eye contact and Snape WASN'T blinking!"

"Hermione, I could KISS you!" Harry thought with a relieved smile as, with a more confidant air this time, and with both his eyes open and imprinted firmly on his beautiful new watch, he placed the index finger of his right hand on the face of the watch and uttered quietly but clearly

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

The clock face completely melted away, and before him, in minute copperplate handwriting, appeared the words

Messrs Mooney and Padfoot, in loving memory of the noble and mischievous Prongs, are proud and honoured to present to you "The Marauder's Watch"

There in front of him, was a tiny perfectly crafted blueprint of...

Of...

Number four Privet Drive.

In the far corner was a single dot marked "Harold James Potter (Awake)", in the room two over from his was another tiny dot marked "Dudley Augustus Dursley (Asleep), and the room opposite Dudley's were two dots marked "Petunia Daphnia Dursley (asleep)" and "Vernon Lucifer Dursley (Asleep)". He noticed a tiny arrow in the top right hand corner of the screen marked with the Hogwarts Crest. He touched it with his finger and the map of the Dursley's melted away and dissolved into the original Marauder's Map. Harry smiled broadly, the tiny map offering immense relief and comfort, knowing that he now could know what was going on at Hogwarts even when he wasn't there. He perused the map gladly, floor by floor. Madame Pince was in the Library, Dumbledore was in his Office, Madame Pomfrey was in the Hospital Wing. He chuckled. It is sometimes wonderful to know that some things never change! Dobby, Winky, and the other house elves were scattered around the castle, as were the Hogwarts Ghosts.

Harry was horrified to see that Moaning Myrtle was in the Prefect's Bathroom again.

He shuddered involuntarily, before shaking himself off and turning to the next letter. It was in a large, gruff, scruffy scrawl, appallingly spelled and with the odd tiny smear of blood. He shook his head, chuckling. "HAGRID!" The parcel was the customary parcel of inedible rock cakes and toffee that Hagrid had cooked himself. The letter was his customary simple scrawl but was unusually vague,

Dear Harry,

Just a short note to wish you Happee Burthdae. I am afrade I can't say too much, just in caise. You no wai. I hope to see you sune.

Take care of yourself and everyone else too this year!

Hagrid

But considering the events of the previous year and Hagrid's current task (Envoy to the giants, along with Madame Olympe Maxime - The half-giantess headmistress of Beauxbatons Wizarding School in France.) it was hardly surprising that he was vague because, like Sirius (Snuffles), it would be unfortunate for himself and his task if the letter was intercepted and had his whereabouts in it. He shrugged and muttered his usual thanks.

He then turned to a letter in Pig's beak written in an equally untidy scrawl, although the spelling was admittedly much better, and the parcel attached to his legs. This was of course, Ron's letter.

Hey Harry!

Happy Birthday! How are you? How's life with the Muggles? Not too dreary I hope! They'd better be treating you well or it won't just be Dudley this time, I guarantee it! We will be over to pick you up in the ministry car at 5 o'clock tomorrow evening (your birthday) so make sure that those relatives of yours are good and scared! Hope you like the present. I saw this and I thought of you type thing! None of us can wait to see you again including you know who! Ouch! Ginny was reading this over my shoulder and just hit me!!!!! Oh well, see you tomorrow.

Ron

Harry shook his head, grinning broadly. He tore open the parcel that was tied to Pig's leg and gulped. "RON!" he groaned, blushing so deeply as to rival even the famous Weasley blush. In his hand's was a thick, rather battered copy of "Quidditch Captaincy" which was monogrammed Charlie Weasley, with a bit of parchment inside which read

Wasn't sure what to get you, so I figured I couldn't go wrong with something Quidditchy! This used to be Charlie's and believe it or not it was Fred and George's idea. Reckon they know something that we don't?

Ron

Harry couldn't breath. They HAD to be joking! This had to be one of the Wizardest Weasley Wheezes Fred and George had EVER come up with! Still the book looked fascinating and even if he wasn't captain it was something he could enjoy, although he had better make sure he didn't read it too much whilst Hermione was around, because he would almost certainly have to bare the brunt of her infamous "Boys!" glare.

The next parcel he decided to tackle was the one he had removed from Errol's leg before he had collapsed in Hedwig's cage. He glanced over at the cage and once again shook his head, chuckling. Errol was still out cold! He felt the parcel. It was fairly heavy and exceedingly knobbly. He opened it to reveal hundreds of WWW products. There were the old classics: Canary Creams, Mumble Mints, Tonne Tongue Toffees, even a few trick wands had crept in there, as well as several others which he had never even heard of. He looked, intrigued, at the letter which came with it.

To the Senior Investor in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Dear Sir

It is with deepest sorrow and regret that we are forced to inform you of your impending birthday. We have tried to put it off for as long as possible, yet even we two lone, humble, modest, hardworking, sincere, and caring souls cannot stem the tide of the advance of Old Father Time.

It is in the hope that you will be able to retain a small amount of your fleeting youth that we have decided to present to you, not a Golden Clock, but a wide selection of our best quality merchandise. There is enclosed, a full list of working instructions and I hope that you will have more than occasion to test them before we come to collect you for your Putting Out To Pasture Party.

Once again our deepest condolences

Yours solemnly

Messrs Frederic and George Weasley (Founders and Senior Partners of WWWINC)

Whilst he had been reading this to himself he had noticed playing softly, almost imperceptibly in the back-ground, a slow death march, not too dissimilar to the tune to which they sung the School Hymn on Harry's first evening at Hogwarts.

It was all Harry could do not to burst into a fit of riotous laughter; not just at what they had done and said, but at what Molly, their plump and kindly, but stern and often much-tried mother, would have said.

He sighed, shook his head again, and then turned to his final owl. He noted the tiny, immaculate copperplate writing and smiled. He turned from the letter to the parcel, and finally back to the letter, deciding to open that first.

Dear Harry

Happy Birthday!

Having a wonderful time in Bulgaria thank you very much. Wishing you and Ron were here. Viktor's family is lovely but I won't tell you about it yet. I will tell you all about in when we meet on the train. I went to Diagon Alley the day before I left for Bulgaria because I wont actually get back until about 7 o'clock on the evening of August 31^st so I will see you and Ron on the train.

Um... about what we talked about earlier... if there is, do you reckon he will? And what if he does? Should I? And also... YOU wouldn't mind would you?

Anyway, see you on the 1^st of September, and don't worry about the muggles Dursleys, you'll be going to stay over at Ron's tomorrow night and you're there for the rest of the Holidays!

Take care of yourself and BEHAVE! *Laugh*

Lots of Love

Hermione

Harry chuckled and shook his head. That is just what he'd have expected Hermione to say. "Behave!"? She was one to talk! First she lies to Professor McGonagall, then she forces himself to go to the restricted section in the Library, then she curses Neville Longbottom in the common room, then she steals ingredients from Professor Snape's Private store cupboard, then she walks out on Professor Trelawney's lesson, then she hits Malfoy, and THEN she talks Ron into almost missing half of their end of year exams! And all in the space of four years! That girl was out of control! He turned to the parcel and started. The parcel was absolutely enormous! He turned questioningly to the owl before attempting to lift the parcel. Surprisingly it weighed absolutely nothing. Hermione must have cast a weightless charm on it. Good thinking, Harry thought. He opened it gingerly.

There inside the wrapping paper, Harry found the largest book he had ever laid eyes on in his life. This book wasn't a Tome, it was a Tome-STONE! He simply gawped at it. It wasn't until the owl gave a muffled hoot, that he realised there was something else. This parcel was much smaller, tiny in fact, by comparison. He opened the box cautiously, because whatever it was, it looked extremely delicate. If his jaw had dropped at the sight at the book, it completely detached itself when he saw what was in the tiny parcel. There, in his hand, lay an absolutely stunning thread-thin gold chain with a tiny golden snitch pendant. She must have got it from a Quidditch supply store in Bulgaria, because he'd never seen anything like that in the Quality Quidditch Supply Store in Diagon Alley. He breathed harder.

"Oh wow! Hermione!" he said in a choked voice. Hurriedly he put it on. It fit beautifully, not too long as to get in the way, but not too short as to choke him. Harry looked at himself in the glass. He thought he looked quite fetching. "Cho will love this!" he thought involuntarily. He shook himself and turned back to the book. "A thousand different spells for each and every occasion" he read to himself. "How big is it?" he wondered. He turned the book on its side and opened it. The last numbered page was numbered one hundred and sixty-one thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven. "Blimey!" thought Harry. "They must mean the title literally!"

He glanced at the contents page. It was two hundred and thirty-two pages long. In fact it had an index all to itself. He glanced at the book. There was no way on earth he would be able to do all this at the Dursley's After all he was limited to those four spells. But he could still read them! And at Hogwarts? Why, that was another matter entirely. If Malfoy wanted trouble this year, he was going to get it and no mistake! He looked up the weightless spell Hermione had used. He was going to need it a lot, he decided.

He picked up a piece of parchment and his quill, and wrote a thank you note to Hermione.

Dear Hermione.

Oh WOW! What can I say?! THANK YOU ever so much for my presents. The chain and pendant are absolutely beautiful! Where on EARTH did you find them!? The book is wonderful as well. What weightless charm did you use? You must have used quite a few because I think even Hagrid would have had trouble lifting it!

The Dursleys have been okay, although they have gone back to their old ways of ignoring me. I wish they'd yell at me occasionally so I could just yell back!

And as for... the other thing. Don't worry about it. If there is, he will do, or if he doesn't I'll curse him! JOKING! But seriously, of course I don't mind. You go for it!

Have a wonderful last month with Viktor and I look forward to seeing you on Platform 9 ¾.

Lots of Love

Harry

PS. Guess who will be joining you in the Prefects bathroom this year!?!?!? Sorry, couldn't wait to tell you!

He sealed the parchment with new easy-off spellotape, a new invention from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, attached it to Hermione's owl's leg, and let him out of the window.

He glanced at his new watch. It was still showing the map of Hogwarts. Dobby was still in the Gryffindor Tower! He wanted to know the time so he touched his finger to the glass and muttered "Mischief managed", and the tiny stag returned to the watch face, reading Two o'clock.

"Hmmmph!" he muttered. "Still fifteen hours to go! Oh, well. Better get some sleep anyway!"