Disclaimer: All characters and locales belong to JK Rowling
Disclaimer: All characters and locales belong to JK Rowling. I only wish they were mine and created their present situation. I just wanted to make that perfectly
clear, so in the unlikely event that JKR reads this and wants to sue me.... well, I'm just covering my bases. Please don't sue me, Ms. Rowling. I don't have any
money or anything else you would want- unless you eat human flesh, that is. But I'm still using mine, so that won't work either.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfiction and I am highly sensitive about it. **shakes his fist at you menacingly** So if you don't have something nice to
say....... well... never mind.
And so, without further dilly dallying........
Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch
Harry, Ron and Hermione's fifth year at Hogwarts, as told by me.
Chapter 1: The Warning
Harry Potter didn't know where he was. More importantly, he didn't know how he got there- wherever 'there' was. The last thing he remembered doing was
choking down the miserable scraps that had been his dinner- before Dudley, his overlarge cousin, could steal it- climbing up the stairs of Uncle Vernon's house
on Privet drive, brushing his teeth and getting into bed.
Had he even fallen asleep? He didn't remember doing so. Maybe he had been transported somewhere. Yes, that must be it. Some dark wizard or Death Eater
must have broken into his bedroom and changed his pillow into a portkey, which had transported him to this strange place.
But then why had there not been that familiar pulling sensation in his stomach? He had only used portkeys a few times before, but that was enough to recognize
the feeling. And he hadn't felt it.
Could this be a dream? Possibly. Though it didn't feel like one. In fact, it felt very real. He'd had dreams like that before- dreams when powerful dark forces were
feeling particularly murderous.
He wasn't going to think about that. Not after what had happened just two months ago.
At any rate, this felt differently than those dreams he'd had before. Then, it had always felt like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. And this.... this felt more
like he was actually there.
Harry was really standing there. He could see himself. He could feel the material of the old, worn pajamas that had been Dudley's before he had grown too fat for
them, and he nervously poked a finger through one of the many holes in the sleeve.
Yes, he was definitely there. But, looking around, he found that he couldn't see much of anything. In fact, he couldn't see anything at all, it was so dark. There
was only him, alone in the dark, and nothing else.
Harry began to get nervous. If he didn't know where he was or how he got there, then how was he going to get out? Instinctively, he reached for his wand. But
he cursed under his breath when he remembered that it was where he had put it when he had returned to #4 Privet Drive two months ago- on his desk.
Now Harry was even more nervous. Without his wand he couldn't defend himself. And since it was so dark, he wouldn't even be able to see anything that was
about to attack him.
That was when he heard the voice. It was a voice he had heard only three times before. The same voice that had been creeping into his nightmares, slowly but
surely, for the past four years. The low, raspy, hissing voice that sounded so much like a snake.
"You failed me."
Harry felt his blood freeze. For a moment, all he could do was pray that he wasn't really hearing it. That it was all in his imagination. That he was actually safe in
his bed with his wand only an arm's length away.
It was a very brief moment.
He knew he couldn't pretend that it wasn't happening. Because, though he had no idea how he had come to be in this place, he was there.
And so was Voldemort.
Slowly, Harry turned around and his fears were realized. Standing only feet away from him was the dark wizard who, only eight weeks ago, had risen out of a
giant cauldron topped off with Harry's own blood and had come within a hair's breadth of doing the same thing to him that he had done to Harry's parents 14
years before: Voldemort.
Clenching his fists, Harry braced himself. He knew what was coming. He had managed to avoid it for four years now, but in the back of his mind he always knew
his luck would have to run out sooner or later. He was about to die.
But... something was strange.
Voldemort wasn't looking at him. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice Harry was there. Instead, he was looking at a hooded figure kneeling before him.
"You failed me, Lucius."
Harry couldn't see his face, but he knew of only one person named Lucius who was associated with Voldemort: Lucius Malfoy.
Harry thought he saw Malfoy shake, ever so slightly, as Voldemort continued. "I had hoped that when you returned with the rest of my Death Eaters that you
were sincere in your claim that you were ready to stand by me once again. Now I see I was mistaken."
"My lord," Malfoy stammered, "nothing could be further from--"
Malfoy shuddered and did not speak again. Voldemort began to circle him as Malfoy stared at the ground.
"I expect better of my Death Eaters. And of you in particular, Lucius. Need I remind you that we are at a crucial stage? With the Ministry of Magic in disarray
we have a rare opportunity. Fudge is a fool, but he will not remain in power forever. The truth that I have returned will come out. Even now, word of my
resurrection is spreading through owls and whispers. We must act now!"
Harry shivered and hugged his sides tightly.
"You still have a great debt to repay, Lucius," Voldemort went on; his voice growing colder. "You were at my side when you allowed Harry Potter to escape. I
gave you an opportunity to redeem yourself." He paused and his red eyes blazed with fury. "But now you have allowed the banished giants to be swayed to that
Mudblood-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore... by a pair of half-breed giants, no less!"
Harry gasped. Voldemort could only be talking about Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Two months ago, Hagrid had told him that Professor Dumbledore had a job
for him over the summer and that Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbaton Academy, might be coming with him. Harry, Ron and Hermione had
suspected that this job had something to do with the giants but Hagrid had not told them anything certain.
Voldemort produced his wand from his cloak and pointed it at Malfoy, who trembled. "I should punish you, Lucius. I should."
Harry leaned closer. This was getting very interesting.
"But recent events have taken an interesting turn. And I still have need of your services."
"Yes, of course, my lord," said Malfoy, with a slight air of confidence returning to his voice. "Tell me what you wish of me."
Harry was on pins and needles. He could almost feel each individual goosebump that had broken out on his skin. He leaned closer still, listening with bated
breath. But then, something very strange happened. When Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, the noise that came from it was not a voice at all, but a hoot. It
was the hooting of an owl.
What was going on? Harry had no idea. The hooting grew louder and louder. There were two different hoots now- two owls. Harry wished desperately that
wherever they were they would shut up. He needed to hear what Voldemort was saying. But he couldn't.
Suddenly, from out of no where, a tiny owl, no bigger than Harry's fist, appeared out of the darkness and collided with his head.
And then, Harry was back in his bedroom.
At first, he didn't quite believe it. He shook his head and looked around. Yes, he was definitely in his room. He was sitting straight up in bed, soaked in cold
sweat and still shivering.
It must have been a dream.
Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead. It had felt so real. He had never known a dream to be like that. Even his own dreams, which had never been what
anyone would call normal, had never been like that before. It wasn't like the other dreams he'd had- like the one almost exactly a year ago, when he had dreamed
that Voldemort had been returned to a frail, weak, but nonetheless real body, by his servant, Wormtail. But this dream was similar enough. Why else would the
lightning scar on his forehead be burning?
Harry didn't have time to ponder this, as the owl that had woken him at exactly the wrong moment began flying around him in circles, hooting like his tail
feathers were alight. There was no mistaking this owl with any other.
"Pig, shut up!" Harry hissed. "You'll wake Uncle Vernon!"
He had experienced first hand what his aunt and uncle were like when they were disturbed in the middle of the night for any reason, let alone a reason pertaining
to the world of magic. And grief like that Harry did not need.
Harry reached out to grab his best friend Ron's owl before the racket it was making woke the entire block. But instead, his hand was knocked aside by a second
owl Harry had never seen before, which had just flown in through his open window. From her cage, Harry's own owl, Hedwig, stuck up her beak disapprovingly.
Sighing, Harry jumped out of bed and grabbed both owls. Each had a letter attached to its leg, which Harry undid. Pigwidgeon's letter was, of course, more
difficult to unfasten because his leg was so small. Still, Harry managed to procure the letters without a lot of fuss, and, stepping over to his desk and turning on
the lamp, he opened them.
Harry opened the letter from the strange owl first. Recognizing the large, chunky handwriting, he knew immediately who had written it.
Sorry I haven't been writing in so long, but I've been real busy up here. I don't have too long to write. I just wanted to let you know that I'm still on that
job for Professor Dumbledore. Things have been real crazy here and it's turning out to be a lot bigger than I thought. And no, I can't tell you no more than
that, so don't ask. We're getting things done, but it's taking more time than we thought and it looks like I won't be seeing you this year. Can't say much more
than that. Sorry. Strict orders from Dumbledore. Can't say a word to no one. Not even you. I hope I'll see you soon. Give my best to Ron and Hermione.
Olympe sends her best as well.
He read the line again, "...looks like I won't be seeing you this year." Harry's heart sank. He had so been looking forward to seeing Hagrid again when the new
school term started next week. Especially now that Voldemort had returned, his friends were more important to him than ever. Harry loved Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry, but it just wouldn't be the same without Hagrid there.
Harry sighed. He knew, of course, that it must be necessary. He didn't need to know what the job Dumbledore gave Hagrid was to know that it was important.
And if it took Hagrid the entire school year to get it done, then that was just the way it had to be. Unfortunately.
Feeling very sullen, Harry opened the second letter, hoping that Ron had sent good news.
Good news! Dad got word from Dumbledore. Says it's okay for you to come to the Burrow now. Don't know why it took so long. I asked dad about it.
But, as usual, nobody tells me anything. Anyway, me and dad will pick you up on Saturday at 9:00- by car this time, don't worry. Dad's borrowing one from the
Ministry. Wouldn't want to upset the ruddy muggles again after our little visit last year.
Harry jumped inside. Nine o'clock on Saturday. That was tomorrow morning! The letter went on.
You wouldn't believe all the stuff that's been going on. It's BIG, Harry. I would have told you sooner, but I figured I'd better wait until you got here to fill you
You hear the news? Hermione made prefect (big surprise). She's probably polishing that big, shiny, new badge of hers right now, strutting around like Percy
did when he was here. Bet she was so thrilled when she got the news that she would've owled us all the way from Bulgaria, just to let us know.
Do you think she went to Bulgaria? I owled her and asked her, but she wouldn't say. See? No one tells me anything. She didn't say anything to you about it, did
she? I thought she might tell you if she went, at least. Bet she thinks she's being real funny, not telling me. But I'll get it out of her when she gets here.
Life here has been lousy, but at least I've been plenty busy. Been doing chores all summer and trying to practice Quidditch whenever I get a chance. Gotta be
ready for tryouts, you know.
Anyway, I need to send this out now so it gets to you in time. See you on Saturday.
Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled. Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning he would be going back to the Burrow, his favorite place in the world
besides Hogwarts. He missed the Weasleys very much. Not just Ron, but all of them. And it would be such a comfort to see them again after... well... everything
that had happened last year. He checked his watch. Nine o'clock couldn't come soon enough.
He wanted to go back to sleep right away so the morning would come sooner. But there was something he had to do first. He pulled out two pieces of
parchment, loaded his quill with ink and began to write.
Got your letter. See you tomorrow. Can't wait. I'll send this back with Pig right now.
Harry attached the parchment to Pigwidgeon's leg, with a bit of difficulty since the tiny owl was still very hyper from his trip. Then Harry let him have him a
drink from Hedwig's water dish and sent him on his way.
He then went back to his desk and pulled the other piece of parchment toward him.
How are you? I bet Professor Lupin's house is better than that cave. But I wanted to make sure you were all right because I just got a letter from Ron
and he said that there was a lot of big stuff happening. I hope you're both doing okay.
Anyway, the reason I'm writing is because I had another one of those dreams just now. Voldemort was talking to Lucius Malfoy and said that he had failed at
some job he'd given him. Something to do with the giants, I think. And he started saying he had another job for Malfoy, but I woke up before I could find out
what it was.
There was something strange about this dream, but I knew it had to be real because my scar hurt when I woke up. And I knew you would want to know if
anything like this happened, so I figured I'd better write you straight away.
That's pretty much it. If you want to write me again, I'll be staying at Ron's house for the rest of the holiday. I'm leaving tomorrow morning, so I'll be there
until school starts up next week. Hope to hear from you soon.
Harry hoped his godfather would write back soon. Their last meeting, after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, had been far too brief. Especially after all
that had happened. But Sirius had left to do something for Professor Dumbledore, just as Hagrid had- round up the 'old crowd', whatever that was. Harry
wondered about that as he tied the letter to Hedwig and carried her to the window.
"I'll be at the Burrow by the time you get back," he said to the snowy owl. She nipped his finger affectionately and took flight, leaving Harry alone in his room
with nothing but a strange ripping noise to keep him company. Turning to see what it was, he saw Hagrid's owl clawing at the comforter on his bed.
"Are you still here?"
Taking Harry's meaning, the owl stuck its beak up at him and followed Hedwig out the window. Harry watched the owls until they were out of sight. Then,
rubbing his scar, which was still carrying a slight burning sensation, he turned off the lamp and climbed back into bed.
He checked his watch again and sighed. Nine o'clock couldn't come soon enough.
NEXT: Durselys = funny.