Hey guys, this is my first story and I hope you like it! First I'd like to point out that English isn't my native language, but I try my best!
Well then I'm planning on reposting the whole story, first you have to thank knitchick, who did the proof-reading when I posted the chapter for the first time. But she sadly is no longer my beta.
Now this chapter was read and corrected by Kyae and finally Hawk Wood polished it.
So thank them!
By the way, I'm currently working on a prequel to this story. It's called 'Harry Potter and the Time of the Training'
Please, give it a go and tell me what you think. ^_^
A howling wind blew over the trees and bushes and the roofs creaked under the pressure of the soon to be coming storm. Nobody was outside, this would be suicide - finally the people shared one opinion - and the shutters of the windows were tightly closed so that no flying object could damage the nicely build houses. The always so extravagantly held gardens were now decorated with branches and debris of the dusty streets, parks and trees.
The street lights flickered and sometimes one of them would go out entirely and the unusual darkness of the early evening took over.
This was the state in which Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, currently could be found.
Inside the house of Number 4 of said street lived three persons – or so it seemed.
In the living room of the house the light was turned on and a radio played some old songs. Everywhere stood pictures. Some of a little pig… äh, boy and then in between some of a little family and strangely deformed people.
The first one was a man. A fat and angry looking man with sticky blond hair and had more resemblance with a walrus than a human being. He sat grumpily on the sofa of the spotless room, a glass of whiskey in one hand and the daily newspaper in the other. He was the total opposite of the neatly cleaned room. His grey shirt was dirty and his trousers where crumpled.
From time to time he grunted and murmured something in his moustache before his eyes flickered to his wife who sat on a comfortable armchair.
His wife was a tall and thin woman with a long neck on which a head with high cheekbones and dark brown hair sat. She looked surprisingly strong like a horse and had her mouth formed into a grimace that could with a lot of fantasy be imagined as a loving smile. She wore a horrid red summer dress and pinks plush slippers.
She was fussing over a boy that sat on the floor and looked somewhere between fourteen and fifteen years old. Well… if you could call him a boy…
He seemed to be wanting to surpass his father and grow more side wards than upwards. He had a sticky mop of blond hair on the top of his round head and was munching on a chocolate cake and a bag of crisps at the same time while he was staring at the turned off TV screen. Even with his clothes he looked exactly like his walrus of a father, except that he bore more resemblance to a pig. So this was obviously the boy in all those pictures.
"Petunia, don't you think it is a bit… odd, that this storm is going of at the same time… he comes back from god knows where?", said the fat man with disgust to his wife.
She wrinkled her nose and looked at the ceiling. "After this hot weather these last days… it could just be a coincidence Vernon dear."
The man who apparently was called Vernon snorted. "As if with those… those freaks something could ever be a coincidence!" He drank a bit of his whiskey. "You of all people should know best that those maggots always mean trouble for us normal and civilized people!"
"You are right of course, darling," answered Petunia monotonously and patted her fat son on the head.
"And then add to this that they are corrupting our little Duddikins with those freaky sticks of theirs! It's-"
"Wands.", interrupted him a deep and strong, but yet young voice.
"WHAT?", Vernon roared and dropped his newspaper on the floor before he turned to the door.
A boy, no, a young man was standing in the doorway and leaned casually at the frame. He had jet-black hair that reached a little past his jaw and stood up in every direction and with that gave him a wild and dangerous look. His eyes were partly hidden by some strands of hair but you could clearly see the piercing look he gave the people in the room and a bright emerald green shimmer that came from his eyes. He wore a black jeans with a silvery belt and a dark green sleeveless shirt that showed off a well toned body. He was not looking bulky like a bodybuilder, but ripped and you could imagine that he had a nice six-pack hidden under his well fitting clothes.
He looked at Vernon with a raised eyebrow. "These sticks you were just talking about… they are called wands, you know?"
"HOW DARE YOU TO USE SUCH A… A FOUL AND ABNORMAL WORD IN MY HOUSE?", screamed Vernon and spit some drops of salvia in his whiskey.
The boy shrugged. "It's not like any word that has to do with magic, Hogwarts and wizards is going to cause an explosion. So what got your knickers in a twist?"
"What did you just say boy?", asked Vernon in a low whisper.
"You heard me.", answered the boy and shrugged again and took some steps forward. "But what I would like to know is…", he narrowed his bright emerald eyes. "… where my things are. Aunt Petunia? Any idea?"
Petunias body stiffened and she looked pleadingly to her husband who took a large gulp of his whiskey and seemed oblivious to the words the boy had said.
"Wh-what do you mean?", she asked rudely. "We… we haven't seen your… your unnatural stuff boy! And you know that!"
"And anyways, where the heck were you this past four weeks?", demanded the pig looking boy on the floor to know. "You didn't turn up on the station and dad drove for nothing!"
"This shall be none of your concern Duddikins.", answered the boy coldly. "I was away. Be happy with it and leave me the hell alone for the next week. Some of my friends are picking me up then and you won't see me until next summer."
"My name is Dudley!", snarled the boy venomously.
"Sure ikle Diddywums. Keep telling yourself that.", answered the boy smirking.
"DAD! The freak is insulting me! Punish him!", whined Dudley pathetically.
Vernon's mood instantly brightened and he ignored the snap at his son. "So you leave then? Those freaks are picking you up? And we won't see your freakish face until next summer?"
The boy nodded. "Are you just deaf or has your brain shut off because of overload uncle?", he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "That's what I said."
A vein on Vernon's forehead bulged and he answered with gritted teeth. "Fine boy. We will leave you alone. But we will have nothing of your freakishness in this house! Is that clear? Now go upstairs to your room!"
The boy made no move to follow his order and folded his arms.
"I said GO!", ordered Vernon loudly.
"Where are my things?", the boy calmly wanted to know again. "My trunk, my broom and Hedwig's cage?"
"HOW SHOULD WE KNOW WHERE YOU PUT YOUR FILTHY TRASH?", screamed Vernon.
"I was in the bathroom ten minutes ago.", the boy retorted relaxed. "And when I came back into my room my things were gone. Where are they?"
Vernon's face turned bright red and he looked ready to explode. Petunia stood up and laid a bony hand on her husband's shoulder.
She looked with disgust in her eyes at the boy. "They are in the cupboard under the stairs."
The boy turned around and walked to the door, but before he reached it he was interrupted.
Dudley snickered. "You should know where it is, don't you?"
He stopped in his tracks and whirled around. Wand ready. "Watch it Duddikins! I may not be allowed to do magic outside of school, but you forget that I've got a mass murdering godfather at my side who will not hesitate to finish your transformation of my eleventh birthday!"
Dudley eeped and clutched his fat ass with both hands.
Satisfied with the results of his words the boy turned around and left the living room before his uncle got that he threatened his son and his aunt started screeching like a banshee.
This surely would be a long week…
The boy opened the lock to the cupboard and took a large wooden trunk, a shining broom and a big cage out of it before he loudly shut it again.
He climbed up the stairs to the smallest bedroom of Number 4, Privet Drive, and opened the door. His eyes fell on several locks that were fastened there and sighed.
He put his trunk down in the middle of his small room and switched the light on. Up here the storm was ten times louder than downstairs in the living room.
Slowly he clicked the door shut and looked at the small mirror that hung on the wall beside it.
He wrinkled his nose as he stared at his reflection.
Of course, he had changed in the past… four weeks. No longer held his face traces of baby fat and his jaw was no longer round and childish. It was more defined and made him look older.
He had done a good bit of training those last weeks and you could really see it. Before the holidays he was a scrawny boy with knobbed knees and arms like a stick and now he had well formed muscles and a nice six-pack. And he had grown taller. Much taller. Before he was 5' 5" and with that the smallest boy of his age. Now he finally stood proud 6' 2" and was really happy about it. A part of it was surely that he had had real and regular meals after the school term. Normally after he came home he would live from the leftovers his so-called relatives left for him. If they left something. He also no longer wore his glasses. He had his vision fixed two weeks ago, because he had realized that his glasses just were in the way.
He idly wondered what his friends were going to say when they saw him next week and grinned mischievously. But his face darkened when his eyes fell on his forehead. Under some loose strands of hair over his right brow was a scar. A scar in shape of a lightning-bolt. This scar made him famous to the whole hidden world of the wizards and witches. Everybody knew his name and children were told about his life in a bedtime story. This scar marked him as 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. He chuckled dryly not at all amused. Last year he often had been the tragic hero of the Daily Prophet: 'The-Boy-Who-Seeks-Attention-And-Is-Nuts'. The crazy and unstable saviour of the wizarding world: Harry James Potter.
His scar was a symbol for the defeat of the most cruel Dark Lord after Grindelwald. A symbol for the defeat of Lord Voldemort.
But for him… for him it was always just a reminder of what he had lost.
Voldemort came at Halloween fourteen years ago to his parents' house and killed James Potter and Lily Evans-Potter. He knew exactly how it happened. At first his father was killed. He had wanted to stop Voldemort in the hopes of that his wife could rescue herself and him. He had fought till his last breath, but it hadn't done anything to the Dark Lord. Then came his mother… he had wanted her to stand aside so that Voldemort could kill him she had begged Voldemort to let him live and sacrificed herself instead. Then he had been alone. But Voldemort wasn't able to kill him. His curse, one of the so called Unforgiveables – the Avada Kedavra - backfired and he lost his own body in the process.
Oh, the irony…
And last term he had finally come back. In the finals of the famous Tri-Wizard-Tournament that was held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He of course was entered by a faithful Death Eater called Bartemius Crouch Jr. that had taken post as the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.
Voldemort had gained a new body with the help of a traitor. The help of this slimy rat Wormtail aka Peter Pettigrew.
Because of this rat his godfather Sirius Black was on the run. He could have lived a happy childhood with him if it weren't for this traitor. And now he had to endure the torture that his only living relatives – the Dursleys – put him through every day.
He turned away from the mirror and suddenly something knocked loud and steady on the window. His eyes widened as he saw that his beautiful snowy owl Hedwig stood with ruffled feathers on the windowsill.
As fast as he could he opened the window and a strong gust of wind blew into his face. Hedwig flew into his room and he immediately shut the window. He didn't want to take a flying lesson indoors after all.
"Hey girl.", he greeted her softly when she sat perched on her cage. "Any letters?"
Hedwig hooted and nodded her head before she let four letters drop on the floor.
Harry smiled and stroked her feathers. "I'm sorry, but I haven't got any owl treats at the moment…"
Hedwig seemed to shrug and hid her head under her left wing. A sign that she needed her well earned rest.
Without wasting much time Harry sat down on his bed and opened the first letter. He frowned, but then a smile formed on his face.
I hope you arrived at your relatives safely. I've got no clue how you can stand those muggles. With everything you told me they must be really horrible!
It was good that we had enough 'time' in those four weeks, don't you think? I think mothers' pocket watch paid off quite nicely.
Father doesn't suspect anything, he isn't at home much, anyways. He still believes mother and I are on holiday here in France at the manor. Since the finals he is always out fulfilling orders of our favourite Nutter. I couldn't find out much about him though. He just seemed to have disappeared from the face of earth. All I know is that he is looking for more Morons and father keeps talking about something in the Ministry.
Anyway… I really hope you are well and don't do anything stupid to get yourself into trouble. That damn Gryffindor bravery will someday get you killed! I don't know what will happen with me when my mother finds out. She seems to have taken a liking to you and took you under her wing. So it's good that you are part Slytherin too. (Even if I'm not entirely sure how much)
Don't overdo it.
Oh, and mother and Beautiful send their regards.
Harry folded the letter after he read it a second time. There was no name under it but he knew who it was from. Why wouldn't he? He had been training and living with him for the last weeks. He shook his head and took another letter and immediately was slightly annoyed with this one. It was from Hermione Jean Granger. His best female friend.
I hope you aren't in trouble and please don't blame yourself for what happened at the tournament. It wasn't your fault. You didn't respond to my last letter so I take it that you are busy with homework.
Harry snorted. He had finished his homework on the first three days of the holidays and blaming himself had never been an option for him. Of course he had felt slightly guilty after Cedric's death but drowning in self-pity? No thanks. He had just been angry, because in her last letter he could see that she and Ron where together somewhere. Probably at the Burrow and he was technically all the time sitting here in Surrey in hopes of some information regarding Voldemort. But no… he continued reading.
And please don't ask about You-Know-Who. Dumbledore forbade me to say something. He says it's not safe and he is right, I think.
I wanted to tell you at least something… but how should I with him watching my back all the time? Seriously he can be really paranoid at times. Much worse than Moody. You remember? 'Constant ViGILance!' Even if he was just a fake professor. I miss you and look forward to next week when they pick you up.
Even if he had been angry before he still smiled and took the next letter. This one was from Ronald Bilious Weasley. His best friend since his first train ride to Hogwarts.
How are you? Don't think too much about Cedric's death. It's not good for you.
Dude, Hermione is really getting on my nerves! When they told us three days ago that you would come next week she totally lost it! I mean… I'm happy that you come as well, but I don't start jumping around in the house and start singing! I swear she has gone nuts!
Well… I've not got much to say. But we will see each other next week anyway.
Take care mate and don't let your relatives get to you!
Harry chuckled at the picture with Hermione jumping around and singing and folded the letter before he took the last one.
I hope you are well! Have you caused some mischief to your relatives? If not, I hereby swear I'm royally gonna kick you into next week! And don't worry, I'm safe and well hidden. Our friend Wolfie with his 'furry little problem' is here too and sends his greetings.
I really feel ashamed that I wasn't able to write more often, but I'm very busy at the moment with a so called 'Chicken-Club' and some Death Munchers.
What have you been up to since I last saw you? I really look forward to next week!
See ya pup!
Harrys face had split into a wide grin as he read the letter and had broken out into full blown laughter at how Sirius called the Death Eaters. Even if he hadn't a clue what they had to do with chickens. This was just typical for his godfather. After all, he hadn't been a prankster in school for nothing.
He chuckled a while and then leaned back on his bed. The storm rang loudly in his ears and the creaking of the woods were clearly audible to him.
Now he had endure just this one week and then he would be out of here again. He smirked, a habit he had picked up over the last time, and closed his eyes. A piece of cake!
I hope you liked it! Give me a review and tell me what you think, okay?
Dark Phoenix of Slytherin