Harry Potter and the Second Prophecy

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Everything belongs to the magnificent genius J. K. Rowling

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Chapter Two:

Harry woke up to a loud rapping sound at the door.

“Huh?  Woosair?” he asked stupidly.

“Get up!  You have to make the breakfast!  It is nearly 7:00!”

“Alright…alright!”

Harry groaned.  He was having a very good dream, which was a pleasant change.  He dreamt that it was the first quidditch match of the season:  Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.  Harry and Draco Malfoy were just racing to the earth in a nosedive for the snitch when Aunt Petunia awoke him.

He stumbled half asleep towards his dresser, pulled on a shirt and trousers, and ambled down the stairs.

“Make the pancakes boy!  And be careful not to burn them this time, or anything else in the kitchen for that matter.

Harry reluctantly grunted a ‘Yes sir”.  What had actually happened the said last time was Dudley turned the stove eye on high when Harry wasn’t watching.  Skipping all the gruesome details:  they ended up having cereal for breakfast that morning and Aunt Petunia was able to replace her oven mitts.

Harry looked up from the stove to see Aunt Marge starring cruelly at him.  After the first batch, he looked up again to see her expression hadn’t changed.  Paranoid, he looked up after awhile to see her still looking at him, and then suddenly her face went oddly blank. 

Standing up she said, “Vernon, I think I left something in the trunk.  I’ll just go and get it…” 

Uncle Vernon glanced at Aunt Petunia, who shrugged and then snapped, “Are you almost done?  You better be when your aunt gets back in here.”

Needless to say, he was.  When Aunt Marge came back into the kitchen, she winked at Harry.  He almost dropped the plate of pancakes he was so stunned.  He gapped at her, and then realized his mouth was wide open and he quickly shut it.

“Hurry up boy!  And bring me my coffee.”

Uncle Vernon bored them all of talk about his company, Gunnings.  Aunt Petunia would agree every so often, and Dudley was stuffing his face to full that he could only nod occasionally.  Harry was still staring at Aunt Marge, who wasn’t giving him the slightest notice.

…..

After the meal, Harry moved to go to his bedroom.  He wanted to start packing, even thought he wasn’t leaving until tomorrow.  He had reached his door when…

“Wotcher, Harry!

He whipped around just in time to see Aunt Marge’s fat face shrink to a pale heart-shape.  Her neat hair that was up in a bun shrunk until it was short and spiky; it also turned a violent shade of purple.   Nymphadora Tonks, a Metamorphmagus, was staring back at him.

Harry was even more stunned than when Aunt Marge winked at him…then it hit him.

“It was you that winked at me!”

“Yea, good job… you alright?  Molly sent the boys over here to see if you were all right.  They said that you didn’t look so good and you didn’t really want to talk…is there something going on…anything that the order can do…have those muggles done anything to you…how come…”

“I’m fine!”  Harry cut here off.  He was so sick of everyone always thinking he was weak and helpless.  “I was tired; I didn’t get much sleep.”

“OK, whatever.  Anyways, the Weasleys wanted me to tell you that they will pick you up tomorrow afternoon, so just let the muggles know.  We don’t want a repeat of your 2^nd year.”

Harry smiled; his 2^nd year, Ron, Fred, and George picked him up in a flying Ford Anglia at his window without the Dursley’s knowledge. 

“Yea, smile all you want.  I wasn’t in the order yet, but Dumbledore had to send a couple of people over here.  I’m sure Molly wasn’t too happy that morning when she found out from the Order that her boys flew over to get you and not from them.  Well, the real Marge will probably be waking up any second now.  See ya around!”

Tonks backed up, knocking over a chair, and with a loud ‘POP’, she disappeared. 

…..

He spent most of the morning searching his room of all his books and supplies.  Around midday, he was called downstairs by Uncle Vernon to carry out the real Aunt Marge’s luggage. 

When Harry got back inside from heaving the unnecessarily heavy bag, he went locate Aunt Petunia.  He found her in the kitchen preparing dinner.

“Erm…Aunt Petunia?”

She straightened; from years of experience, Harry knew that meant ‘Yes?  What do you want?”

Harry hesitated.  “The Weasleys…you remember them?”

She gave an almost unnoticeable nod.

“Yea, well they have asked me to stay with them for the rest of the summer.”

“So…”

“So, can I go?”

“I suppose you can…how will they be picking you up…these Weasleys.  They better be coming in a normal way.”

Harry almost kicked himself.  How could he forget, after flying cars and Floo Powder (traveling by fire places), to ask how they were coming.  Harry couldn’t apparate, and he was pretty sure that the Weasleys wouldn’t try anything that they have in the past, the Dursley’s reactions were not very appreciative.

“Erm…yea, I’m sure they will be picking me up in a…erm…normal way.”

Harry ran out of the kitchen before she could ask what normal way they would be traveling.