On Your Mark

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else by J.K. Rowling, but I wish I did!

 

Chapter 1 Interesting Encounters

 

Harry Potter put down his quill and brushed his black hair out of his green eyes for the umpteenth time. He never recalled his hair getting so long so fast. It was a miracle his fussy Aunt Petunia had not sent him to get it cut yet, but then she had barely said a word to him at all since he had been home from school.

             It was not surprising that his aunt and uncle, with whom he had lived since he was just 15 months old, ignored him. They considered him abnormal and not worth considering, except to do their chores. This was especially true since he started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he was eleven.

            Harry was a wizard and one of the most famous ones at that. He also was one of the most endangered of the small secret society of magical people. However, that was a whole other story, one which he was hoping was just another bad dream   He was currently writing to his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, about just such a nightmare. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful and influential wizards of all time-he even looked like the epitome of a wizard- long white beard, long white hair, and elegant robes.

            Harry finished the letter about his most recent vision of the evil Lord Voldemort. He had awakened a few hours ago with his lightening bolt -shaped scar on his forehead burning (a remnant of the curse Voldemort had tried to kill him with as a baby). His scar often hurt, particularly when Voldemort was in a bad mood. According to his dream, he was in a very bad mood indeed.

            The Death Eaters ,Voldemort’s followerswho had been imprisoned a few weeks ago had been questioned under truth serum and told all. Not only had the Ministry of Magic put them under maximum security, but also they had increased the wards around the prison of Azkaban. Voldemort’s remaining Death Eaters had once again failed him-  this time in an attempt to free their compatriots.

            It was the Dark Lord’s wrath that had caused Harry his nighttime distress. He was writing to Dumbledore only to keep him informed. The letter was short and formal, as Harry was still upset and disappointed with the old man.

             Dumbledore had kept him in the dark about too many things and those things had hurt him greatly. Of course, it was all because he said he “cared” for Harry.  The worst hurt was the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. Harry didn’t really know him all that well, but he knew one thing- Sirius loved him. He was the only person who ever really did. Sure, he had his friends, Ron and Hermione, and Ron’s family who said they cared for him, but Sirius was different. Harry couldn’t quite explain what it was but Sirius’s love was—different, more like family.Just before rolling up the parchment and tying it to his owl, Hedwig’s, leg, Harry decided to add a P.S.

            “The Dursley’s are fine. I am fine. I made friends with a kid named Mark Evans over on Magnolia Road. Interesting name, huh?”

            Harry smiled. His mother’s maiden name had been Evans. The boy was much younger than Harry, but he had known of him for years. Mark seemed to have become Dudley Dursley’s new punching bag (an occupation previously held by Harry). Any kid who could get his cousin’s goat was okay with Harry.

            It was during just such an encounter that Harry met Mark last week. Harry was wandering around Little Whinging trying to clear his head, when he noticed Dudley and his gang trying to “procure” a bicycle from the eleven year old.

            Mark was holding his own pretty well so Harry just hid and waited. Just as Malcolm and Dennis were holding the boy down for Dudley to finish off, Harry came out of hiding.

            “You sure you wanna do that Big D?” he asked.

            “Stay out of it freak ,” his cousin replied in his most menacing voice.

            “Nah, don’t think I will, Duddy Diddykins. It’s not nice to beat up poor ickle kiddies.”

            “Okay Potter,”  growled Malcolm. “We’ll beat you up instead”.

            “Yeah, you know, for old times’sake,” added Dennis

.           “Go ahead, take your best shot,” Harry sneered. Under his breath he mumbled to Mark, “Take your bike and get out of here.”

            Mark looked at Harry who hissed again “Go!” He did, but only as far as the park entrance.

            “So you guys are going to take me on, huh?” Harry’s hand was under his shirt wrapped around his wand. “Think you can beat me AND my friends?”

            Malcolm laughed. ”What friends Potter? I don’t see anyone else.”

            “Yeah Potty, you look pretty alone to me!” Dennis agreed, looking to Dudley.

            “Er, guys, maybe we should just… blow.” Dudley eyed Harry’s hand. He knew what was there. “He, er, he does have some friends coming over, er, maybe they’re hiding or something.”

            Harry nodded. “Yep some of my mates that met me at the station, right Dud? You remember them, don’t you?”

Members of the Order of The Phoenix (wizards who were fighting against Lord Voldemort) had warned the Dursleys to treat Harry better than they usually did. They also implied that they would be watching. Harry was well aware that he was constantly under guard. He knew that an invisible order member was near by and a loud rustle in the bushes to his left, confirmed his suspicions.

Dudley started at the sound. His mates just looked amused but Dudley knew better than to antagonize Harry any further.

“C’mon!”

“But Big D….”

“Come ON!”

Harry smiled. “See you round guys, it’s been fun!” “Thanks,” he added toward the rustle.

“Pleasure Harry,” came the gruff voice of Mundungus Fletcher. “Nice blokes, eh?”

“Yeah, real nice,” Harry snorted.

He made his way out of the park and caught up to Mark.

“Thanks, Harry,” the younger boy said quietly. “I coulda’ taken them though.” “Yeah , I know. You were doing really well but it’s always nice to have a hand. Believe me, I know.”

“Yeah, suppose you do. How do you put up with that git?”

“Oh, I have my ways ,” Harry replied mysteriously.

“He really seemed afraid of you ,” Mark exclaimed. “His expression was priceless!”

As they stopped in front of the Evans home Harry went to say goodbye. “Wait ,” Mark said. “How about a drink or something?”

“Er, okay , just water though.” Harry waited outside while Mark went into the house.  He heard the distinctive ‘crack!’ of Mundungdus disapparating and a ‘pop!’ of someone taking his place. The changing of the guard.

“Who’s there?” Harry inquired, his hand on his wand.

“Whoa! Easy , kid!” came the singsong voice of Hestia Jones. “Moody would be proud!”

“Great, just great .” groaned Harry. “Constant vigilance…something every fifteen year old needs.”

“’Bout time you realized you’re not an average kid , Mr. Potter,” replied Hestia. “Sorry ,” she added , seeing the expression on his face. “But it’s true.”

“I know, I just need some time.

“Well, don’t take too long luv…” She was going to say more to appease his frustration, but Mark and his mother appeared in the doorway.

“Hello, Harry it’s nice to meet you ,” Mrs. Evans said. Mark tells me you helped him out today. I have to thank you .” She handed him a glass of water. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with some biscuits?”

“Er…” Harry looked toward the spot where Hestia had disappeared and heard a muffled “It’s okay.”

“Um, yes,ma’am that would be nice, thanks, Mrs. Evans.”

“Ma’am?” She laughed. “Please call me Gloria.  I am far too young to be a ma’am!” She went inside and brought back a plate of freshly baked chocolate biscuits.

“Thank you ma’am … er, Gloria”

“You’re welcome. So, you live with the Dursleys on Privet?"

“Er…yes ,” Harry replied looking away . “They are my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh, I see – and your parents?”

“They died when I was a baby.  Aunt Petunia is my mum’s sister.  Her name was Evans too,” Harry said , looking up.

“Really?” Gloria responded , looking straight into Harry’s eyes.  “My goodness, your eyes are just as green as Mark’s.  Very unusual color, too, it is.”

Harry looked over at Mark; he hadn’t noticed he had the same color eyes as him.  ‘Interesting,’ he thought.  In the background, he heard Hestia Jones quietly gasp.

“I don’t know much about my family,” said Harry.  “Do you think that we could be related somehow?”

“Mmm, definitely a possibility, Harry.  I have to ask my husband.  Jake knows more about the Evanses than I do, of course, but I seem to remember an old aunt of his mentioning a distant cousin with green eyes like Mark’s.”

“My mum had green eyes,” stated Harry “and dark red hair.”

Gloria eyed her son, his auburn hair shining in the sunlight. “Possible, definitely possible.  Why don’t you two play some football or something?

Jake should be home in a little while.”

“Er ,” said Harry, “I have to be home to help with dinner soon.  I’ll come by tomorrow, OK?”.

“OK, Harry see you then,” Mark called .

After thanking Gloria for the snack, Harry set back to the Dursley's in a much better mood.  He always wanted to know more of his family.  Could it be possible?

After helping Aunt Petunia, cleaning up and getting the usual ‘don’t ask questions’ when he asked about their family. Harry went to his tiny room.  He slept uninterrupted, dreaming of a big happy family.