The Calypso Charm.

I do not own, nor profit from anything relating to Harry Potter. J.K.Rowling.. that magical genius is owed all credit.

1. Where Harry Does His Homework.

The lazy air enveloping Number Four Privet drive in the afternoon was turned to a fine mist as the night approached. In the smallest bedroom, in the furthermost corner of the room laid a reading figure.

Holding a small flashlight between his teeth, nearly sixteen years of age with black, unruly hair and tired green eyes was Harry Potter. And he was attempting to do his homework for the summer.

“Dimmerhall had, in the latter part of the fifteenth century, developed many simple charms for various purposes. Many are still in use today and have led wizarding to what it is today. Though the afore mentioned charms were a great contribution, it has been said that his theories on wand-less magic are Dimmerhall’s greatest feat.”

There were only a few weeks left before September the first arrived, and Harry went back to school. In terms of homework, Harry had saved the two scrolls assigned by the ghostly Professor Binns for the last of his work. History of Magic was what one might call dull in most other wizarding schools. But with a sleep inducing voice, and novel-like notes, it was hard not to be bored.

He had almost finished when he began to nod off. It was slow, but his eyelids were almost reluctant to open, becoming heavier and more and more difficult blink. His eyes had started to lose focus from the page, circles of bluish-black that had ringed his eyes since his return became more prominent on his pale face. Sleepless nights of study, and hard labor in the day had started to take it’s toll.

The moonlight fell over the landscape softly, those silver rays cascading down and over the green hills and making shadows of the valleys. They gently grazed over the ancient trees of the forbidden forest, and the smooth waters of the lake. It produced the effect of two moons, one above the earth and one below. Her hair shone from it, a deep fiery red that mingled with the silvery light of the moon giving off an eerie effect. The multitude of curls flowed down her back. Her head was thrown back, the curve of her neck graceful. She was laughing, a tinkling fairy laugh that he wanted never to end. Her face turned to meet his and-

Loud knocking had woken Harry from his dream. It had been of his mother he thought, trying to recall. His Aunt Petunia’s pounding was growing louder. “I’m up!” Harry called, weary and impatient. Wrenching his eyes open, Harry could see bright daylight starting to creep into his room. He glared at it as if to challenge it to approach him further.

He blinked for a few moments, then pulled himself up. Rubbing his face with his hands, Harry sat on the edge of his bed- recalling the dream he had been awoken from. It was like trying to cup water in his fingers, much as he tried to hold on, it slipped slowly away. Grasping for memories that would not return, Harry began to brood. The events of the earlier months before summer came crashing back to him, a small boy still; amidst a sea of memories. He was no match. They consumed him, feeding on every scrap of him they could find, pulling at his mind. Harry had, on his return become almost immune to emotion, almost.

Trudging his way downstairs ten minutes later, Harry found a note on the kitchen table.

“Went out on errands. Miss Figg has been informed you’ll be staying there today.”

Harry sighed. He had been doing yard work for the batty old lady and the work was intensely difficult and hot. He could almost feel his muscles begin to ache. He crumpled the note, and put it in the wastepaper basket on his way out.

After four hours of working, Harry was given a midday meal. Sitting at the old woman’s table for tea was almost as bad as hearing about the numerous cats she’d had, past and present. Pictures of the cats were spread all over the table, and from nowhere Harry had the urge to jump onto his chair, and throw his tea over the pictures, laughing hysterically as the papers were stained.

Keeping this picture in mind, he chuckled to himself. As he was devouring the sandwiches she placed in front of him that smelled suspiciously of cabbage, but tasted fine, nonetheless, Miss Figg kept up a steady stream of talking.

Half way through his third sandwich, Harry almost gagged, glad he hadn’t thrown his tea on the stacks of photos. A Daily Prophet peaked out from under one of the photos.

“Another murder by You-Know-Who?” The title read.

Hoping to attract as little attention as possible, Harry slid the picture out from underneath it’s hiding place. Folding it quietly, he slid it in his back pocket. Luckily for him, Dudley’s hand-me-downs allowed him to hide the paper.

“Listen Miss Figgs, I really must go..” He quickly added “I’m already late.”
Hoping this would convince her he really had to leave. She stopped her chattering, interrupted. Her hands fluttered about the gray bun atop her head.

“But my dear boy! Your aunt informed me that you would be here until well past dinner!” She exclaimed, surprised.

Harry shook his head, already standing up. “There must have been a mistake then, I’m terribly sorry!” He left quickly, closing the door quietly behind him, considering how fast he was running.

He ran almost all the way to Privet drive. As he neared Number Four, he failed to notice that behind him was trailing a familiar tabby cat.

The house was quiet, and empty. He skipped steps in his haste to reach the privacy of his room. Throwing himself onto the bed, Harry read the front page.

At an undisclosed location last night, a brutal attack took place. The wizarding world was shaken this morning to hear the news. Officials at the Ministry confirmed they had no idea that any attack was coming so soon.

Harry, at this point snorted, and muttered under his breath.

Two unidentified muggles and three wizards were killed. ‘A very faint dark mark hung in the air above the bodies.’ Reports one of the first Aurors on the scene. Could this, and the other three attacks the wizarding world has seen in the past few months be the work of You-Know-Who?”

The article continued, and some of it was highlighted, but Harry read no further. His mind toyed with the thought of the ‘three attacks’ mentioned. But with no further information, he quickly scanned the rest of the paper. He found know signs of Rita Skeeter being mentioned, for which he was glad.

But things had been happening. Why didn’t he know about it? Why hadn’t he felt anything from his scar. For an absurd second, he thought it might have some how ‘broken’. But numerous theories raced through his brain, questions sprang forth from other questions, and he was left with a web of those tangled and confused thoughts until the Dursleys returned home many hours later.

2. In which Harry has a birthday, and is bewildered.

A few days after finding the news about the attack, Harry received a letter. It was in the early morning, and he rushed to Hedwig who was hooting quite loudly.
“Here girl, there you go.” He gave her an owl treat, and some water.
Untying the note as she drank was difficult, but finally he untied it. The parchment ws blank

The letters appeared on the page before Harry threw it out, thinking it to be just a blank piece of paper. The ink formed into Ron’s chicken scrawl.

“H-
I’m not even supposed to be sending this. I only have a few hundred unsent letters for you. Dumbledore doesn’t want anything other than completely necessary sent. So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (‘Be careful!’ was written in Hermione’s neat handwriting)See you soon!”

There were many blocks of text that had been blacked out by another hand. Obviously Ron’s idea of ‘completely necessary’ didn’t meet the headmaster’s. Harry didn’t even care if it had already been read by anyone else. He was happy just to have gotten a letter. Hermione’s insert made him grin foolishly.

In the back of his mind, Harry dimly remembered it was his birthday, and yet he was not surprised to find that the Dursleys conveniently forgot.

As night was approaching, Harry began to feel a growing headache spreading from his scar. And faintly remembering a lesson from divination, Harry broke a law.

“Professor?” He called out timidly with his mind. It was a type of communication, he remembered, that used bits of magic to call out with the mind. Without proper training though, it was not a guaranteed secure connection.

“Harry? This is quite an unexpected surprise. But unless you happen to know how to protect yourself, this will be a short conversation.”
Dumbledore’s call was stronger, and Harry noted that he sent an impression of surprise.

“No, sir I’m sorry. It’s just that.. it’s my scar-” Suddenly, the connection was broken.

Harry was confused. He’d done everything properly, hadn’t he? But at that moment a tired, haggard looking elder Weasley appeared in his room.

“What the -?!” Harry almost shouted. It was hard to tell in the semidarkness before the streetlights came on just who exactly had entered his room. Breathing a sigh of relief, he smiled. “Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, slightly stunned; yet happy.

“Hullo Harry. I won’t ask how you are right now, but I’ve come to get you.” His voice was raspy and yet still kind. The stoop of his shoulders was more pronounced, as well as gray in his hair that had never been there before.

“Er.. Okay.” Harry said, still more than a little confused.

“Get all of your things quickly, we have very little time at our command.” Said Mr. Weasley, quickly, quietly.

So while Harry packed what little items he had into his trunk, Arthur Weasley shifted the curtains, muttering, and looking out the window as if he expected to find giant hairy spiders running down the street in yellow raincoats(Mr. Weasley had about as much fondness for arachnids as his son did.)

It took only a few moments for Harry to gather his things, but as he went for Hedwigs cage, Mr. Weasley stopped him.

“No, there’s no room. Let her fly.”

Most owls, as we now know aren’t the brightest bulb in the socket. But Hedwig, who was a wizard’s owl, was not so. Any owl bought in the wizarding world holds a connection to their owner, and so can find them when even tracking spells can not. Harry, not knowing this; began to argue that she knew where he was going just about as much as HE did himself, when a ball of yarn was handed to him.

Harry stopped speaking and stared at the rainbow colored yarn. He was beginning to think that his best friend’s father was going maybe a tad bit mad when he explained “It’s a portkey Harry. And it’s almost time.”

Harry looked up at Arthur, tilted his head in question. With a familiar tug of the nostril, the image quickly blurred.

3.
Where the Headmaster compliments footwear.

Well young Harry, that should make you a bit happier. Mused the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He sat in canary yellow dressing robes, and a purple and maroon duster. Around him were books over a thousand years old. The delved into many things, including “everything ending in ‘ology” Albus liked to boast. So many that even he sometimes got ‘Agnoiology’ and ‘Axiology’ confused.

He was sitting in an old leather chair. In fact, he believed the chair quite liked him, since the Headmaster was a few years younger than it, and quite protective of him. Fawkes chirruped in his sleep, and Dumbledore laughed silently, shaking his head.

His laughter quickly faded. Such dormant power I have not see in one so young in a very long time.. Thought he, long fingers steepled, he was soon deep in thought.

“ALBUS!” Roared a voice, which was soon followed by a door being pushed viciously open, a very angry looking Severus Snape, and an exasperated Minerva McGonnagle.

Albus Dumbledore held up his hands. “Before you being Severus, let me take this moment to compliment your admirable taste in footwear.” For under the table, Dumbledore was wearing the exact same pair of pink bunny slippers.

4.
Where Harry is pinched many times, and doesn’t wake up.

“Happy Birthday Harry!” Following that was a chorus of hellos that greeted the already slightly befuddled Harry when he landed, seconds later in the Burrow.

Harry, poor thing, was getting more confused by the minute. His headache had, since the last time he remembered gotten somewhat better. “What?” Was all he could manage when he saw the Weasley family, including Hermione; standing in the kitchen.

“What do you mean ‘what?’.. It’s your birthday you dolt!” Ron said, hugging Harry.

Molly Weasley glared disapprovingly at her son. “Harry dear, we wanted you to have a proper celebration for your birthday.”

Everyone was smiling and nodding. Fred and George started loudly singing “Happy Birthday” to the tune of the Chudley Cannons f(l)ight song. Everyone else joined in, each with their own tune. It reminded Harry oddly of the Hogwarts school song.

By the time they were done singing, Harry was seated, and in from of him was a massive chocolate cake. On top of it floated the words “Happy Birthday Harry!” In faux fairy lights. He looked around, knowing he was supposed to be doing something. But the twinkling lights, false as they were, looked nice on the cake, he thought.

“Well! Make a wish, blow the lights out!” Said Mrs. Weasley. “Haven’t you ever had a birthday cake silly?” She did it without thinking; with laughter in her voice, and didn’t seem to realize what she had said.

Harry looked down and blushed. He wished she hadn’t said that, but blew out the fairy lights all the same. After the lights were charmed back on, a breath escaped him that he didn’t know he held. All around Harry chairs were scraping the floor, silverware was clinking against plates as people dug into their cake. Harry was hesitant, blinking a few times. He didn’t know if time had passed without him realizing it, or things were just taking it slow with him today. Having the honorary first piece didn’t help him. He’d barely begun with his second bite when everyone else was half way done.

“Oo’ ‘ust unders’and ‘Arry. ‘Ee’ve been smelling ‘dis cake since ‘lis ‘oorning.” Through his mouthfuls, Fred said this.

“Yeah. But we haven’t been able to convince Mum to make us two of our own.” Added George, quite put out by this fact. Harry laughed, and looked at the cake. They had done a magnificent job of putting a dent in it, but there was still a large portion left unfinished. Mrs. Weasley’s eye caught Harry’s “Special recipe” She mouthed, winking.

It was very good Harry thought, but could eat no more than half of it.

Soon everyone had digested enough, and it was time for presents to be given. Ginny, being the youngest by tradition gave the first gift. It was an edition of Quidditch Monthly Magazine.

“Thanks Gin!” Harry said, smiling. She grinned happily.

Ron went next, and Harry excitedly ripped open the package to find.. “Socks, Ron?”

The red head blushed. “Sorry.. Must’ve given you Dobby’s first.” Harry took a second look at the socks. They were an odd orange color, and very globular. Ron’s gift was a small box, no bigger than a thumb nail.
“It’s enchanted to grow or shrink according to what you need and it’s weight stays the same.” He explained to Harry’s expression.

Harry’s grin was growing broader with every present.

Hermione’s was next. It was a necklace in the shape of a flying snitch. It was of clear glass, filled with an amber liquid. There were shapes inside of it, but squinting as he might, Harry couldn’t tell what they were. On a note, Hermione had written;
Harry,
Keep this with you. It’s a protection globe. It also has other uses. When you’re alone, take it off, and pull on the right snitch wing. I made it myself.
All my love,
Hermione.

“Wow.” He said, softly.
“Thank you.” It was a statement. Green eyes met brown, and silently they understood.

At that moment, a voice called “I’m home!”
“Oh, Arthur! You’re home already?” Mrs. Weasley bustled into the kitchen.

Fred and George quickly handed harry an envelope, and a Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes deluxe Hogwarts set while their Mother was occupied. Harry grinned broadly, and quickly stashed it behind him, fearing her return.

And finally, when she did come back, Mrs. Weasley gave him a black folder. In red ink were his initials; H.J.P. He looked puzzled.

Inside were all of Harry’s records. Also, Mr. Arthur Weasley, and Mrs. Molly Weasley’s signatures, along with Albus Dumbledore’s one paper made Harry’s guardianship belong to the Weasley’s.

From where he was sitting on the floor, Harry looked up at Molly.

“We weren’t sure it-” She said slowly, trying to read his expression with a talent only mothers had.

“So, I’m free from the Dursleys.. to stay.. here?” This was said with equal slowness, but for fear of misunderstanding, or waking from a very nice dream.

Harry sat on the floor, looking from the paper to Molly. They had told no one about what they had done not even Ron, it was obvious.

“Is this a dream?” He asked. “Someone pinch me, please.”
Harry received several pinches, and laughter again flowed.

It would be later when he found out what the piece of parchment was the twins gave him, what type of socks Dobby had made him exactly, and how Hermione’s necklace worked. He hadn’t expected much, and on his birthday, Harry was pleasantly surprised.


--Ah, Real Genius.. How I love that movie. The slippers quote came indirectly from it. Also, Ella Enchanted(the book) was used for the box idea..In the next chapter: Dumbledore reveals plot ideas, and Hermione returns from gorgeous Paris. Stay tuned!