Standard Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The only things owned by the author are any character's not previously mentioned in the Official Harry Potter books and the plot, all else are property of J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers Inc.
Chapter One - Surprises
"Avada Kedavra!"
There was a blinding flash of green light and the thud of a large mass hitting the floor. Harry opened his eyes to see the body of the man who had protected him since he was only a child of one year. Albus Dumbledore, some say as the greatest wizard of modern times, lay on the floor. His blue eyes, once bright as supernovae now little more than pale ghosts of their former glory.
The boy known as Harry Potter stumbled, his silent scream catching roughly in his red raw throat, scraping his knees on the cold stone. Dumbledore couldn't die. He wasn't supposed to die. "No..." he cried weakly. A single harsh, cruel laugh replied. Harry gradually stood up. His hand rose until the tip of his wand was aiming at the place where a heart should have been. Without thinking, Harry uttered a single word. "Crucio!"
The powerful curse hit the man square in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Harry was pleased to see the torture he was placing the man in. On the icy flagstones of the corridor, the man writhed in agony, red eyes blazing, thin nostrils flaring. This man was the single person in the world who had caused the most pain and suffering in Harry's life. First was the heartless butchering of his parents; then, the cold-blooded murder of a fellow student; and now, the death of Albus Dumbledore. Harry felt complete anger and hatred for the evil thing in front of him. Without warning, the curse seemed to stop working. The man, known to many in the wizarding world but never called by name, arose with a murderous glint in his eyes. In one long stride he had reached Harry and started to shake him furiously.
"Wake up boy!!!" the screams came.
"Wake up now you little runt!" came the voice again, only it wasn't the voice of the red-eyed man. Harry opened his eyes, much too quickly, for he immediately regretted this decision. Uncle Vernon Dursley, a short stocky gentleman with a thick handlebar moustache was hovering just two inches from Harry's face. "Get. Up. NOW!!!"
'What time is it?' Harry wanted to say; instead the only sound that came out was "Wha…?"
"Your... friends... are here for you," replied Vernon.
Harry had completely forgotten. He would be spending his fifteenth birthday with his best friend, at The Burrow. Within the space of five minutes Harry had dressed, packed all his belongings into his trunk, grabbed his Firebolt and practically flew downstairs, hindered only by the sheer weight of his trunk. The moment he entered the living room, now covered in dust, a familiar face came running over to him.
"Harry! How've you been? Can't wait to show you what's happened at home! Hope the Muggles have treated you better. Where's Hedwig?" Harry was about to reply when the last question sank in.
"Oops! Back in a sec," the sound of Harry's voice came, as he was halfway up the staircase. Hedwig was sitting in her cage, hooting indignantly at Harry. "Sorry girl, blame Uncle Vernon," he apologised as Hedwig took the scrap of chicken he offered her.
As Harry walked past Dudley's door, it opened slightly; Dudley's plump face peeked out. The moment he saw Harry the door slammed shut again and Harry thought he heard the sound of Dudley scrambling around his room, as if he were trying desperately to hide his over-sized bulk.
"Bye Dudley," muttered Harry absentmindedly, whilst carrying Hedwig and her cage down towards the living room. When he entered, he noticed that his trunk had left along with Fred and George; Ron was still there, waiting patiently with his father, Arthur Weasley.
Mr. Weasley stood in front of the fireplace wearing robes of the deepest emerald green. The problem was that the colour of his robes clashed horribly with his vibrant, yet thinning, red hair. "Ah Harry, so good to see you again!" he exclaimed taking one long stride towards him and grabbed Harry's hand.
"Hello Mr. Weasley, thanks for offering to let me stay again," said Harry, as soon as his arm was once again free.
"That's no problem at all Harry - you know you're welcome to stay whenever you want to."
"We're going on holiday at the end of next summer, so Mrs. Figg has kindly offered to look after you when you get back from... Yes well, get going; I want my living room back to normal!"
Harry nearly jumped - this was the second time he'd forgotten things in the same day, this time the fact being that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in the room had seemed to slip his mind.
"Not to worry Mr. Dursley, I'll have it back to normal in a jiffy. Ron, you take Hedwig for Harry and let everyone know we'll be arriving in a minute." Mr. Weasley then took Harry over to one corner of the room and spoke to him in a low voice so that the Dursley's would not hear him, "Harry, before you jump in the fire, I need you to say 'Hagrid's' for me. When you get there, wait a few moments before I signal you to come to the Burrow."
"Why do I have to go to Hagrid's first?" began Harry in the same low tone of voice, "Isn't he at the Burrow with you guys?"
"Harry, just do this for me, please - I don't want to ruin your surprise, and Molly would kill me if she found out I'd told you it," said Mr. Weasley with a small smile and a solemn wink.
Feeling deeply suspicious of the situation, Harry agreed, went over to the fireplace and stepped into the roaring green flames, saying "Hagrid's Hut," at the last second.
As always, Harry closed his eyes and tucked his arms to his sides. The spinning usually made Harry feel dizzy, however this time he was too busy wondering what the surprise Mr. Weasley mentioned would be.
In no time at all Harry was picking himself up from the floor of Hagrid's hut, brushing the soot from his clothes. As he looked around the single large room that was Hagrid's kitchen, bedroom and living room all in one, Harry noticed an envelope on Hagrid's larger-than-normal (for Muggles) table. He immediately recognised the untidy scrawl of Hagrid's handwriting. Upon opening of the envelope Harry began to read the letter that had been addressed to him.
Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday Harry!
I'm sorry I can't be there for yer party. Professor Dumbledore sent me on a mission for him, and guess who he asked to go with me! Madame Maxime that's who. Great man Dumbledore! I got your birthday present and Ron's lookin after it fer you. I baked you a cake as well and it's in the box next to this letter. Hopefully I'll be back at Hogwarts by the time you are, give me love to the Weasley's and Hermione,
Hagrid.
Harry just stood there, shaking with silent laughter. As he was reading, he had imagined Hagrid's worried face saying, "I shouldn't 'ave said tha'." Hagrid had unwittingly given away the surprise Mr. Weasley had told Harry not to ask about.
Harry was elated - his first real birthday party that he could remember and he would get to spend it with the people he thought more closely of as a family than the Dursley's. He'd be spending it with her.
Just that moment, Arthur Weasley's head emerged from the fire. "I see Hagrid has baked another of his fabulous cakes has he?"
"He most certainly has Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, the cake box lying open on his lap.
"Right then Harry, you ready to come back?"
"Absolutely! Er, before you go, would you mind taking the cake for me? Only every time I use Floo powder I seem to end up sprawled on the floor and I don't want the same thing happening to my birthday cake!" said Harry, rather nervously.
"Of course, Harry," Mr. Weasley replied as one of his arms appeared suddenly next to his head. "Now, Harry, please wait awhile after I've disappeared before you jump in. Should give me enough time to put your cake on the table and get some mats in front of the fireplace. Don't want you all over the floor again do we?" chuckled Mr. Weasley.
"No." Harry's face reddened slightly. With a loud pop Mr. Weasley's face, arm and Harry's cake had spiralled back into the emerald blaze of the fire. Harry found himself looking at his watch, with the intention of discovering whether enough time had elapsed, only to realise that his watch didn't work any more. In fact it hadn't worked properly since the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament over five months ago. Force of habit alone caused the watch to remain on his arm.
Thinking too much about the tournament and his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in general was far too painful for Harry. Not only had he had to endure the temporary rift between Ron and himself over the choosing of Harry as a school champion by the Goblet of Fire, he had also found himself within the clutches of Lord Voldemort once again. He had witnessed the death of an elder student at the hands of Voldemort's vile servant, Peter Pettigrew (more commonly known as Wormtail). This was the major reason for Harry's nightmares almost every night since his return to Privet Drive.
Harry had felt enormous guilt over Cedric's passing, feeling that he was the reason for Cedric's premature death. In fact, Harry felt far worse over this than about the fact that Lord Voldemort had arisen once again, thanks in part to the blood forcibly taken from Harry. The only bright spot on Harry's horizon at that point had been knowing that his friends were safe and the kiss she had given him only a month ago.
Harry couldn't bear to dwell on thoughts like these so he was busying himself by wondering what his party would be like when he arrived. He found that, because of his complete lack of experience where parties were concerned (the only parties he had been to had been Dudley's, and they weren't exactly joyous occasions for Harry), he had no idea what it would be like.
'It must be time now,' he thought to himself. Gathering his courage he took a pinch of Floo powder from a box on Hagrid's mantelpiece, promising to himself that he would buy some more for Hagrid when he returned as he could see the box was nearly empty. Scattering the powder into the hearth, the flames growing green once more, Harry clearly shouted "The Burrow," and jumped into the flickering warmth of the fire. Spinning faster and faster, his feet hit solid ground before his mind registered that there was a ground to hit. Opening his eyes he realised, for the first time ever, he had remained upright.
'Yes,' he thought to himself silently. After he had dusted himself off, Harry looked up. His breath left him like a bat out of hell. The reason for this soon became apparent: Hermione.
***
She had been waiting almost a month to see him. 'It can't have been that long,' she mused, 'since I last saw those amazing eyes'. Hermione Granger had now been dreaming of those eyes and their owner ever since she had said goodbye to them at Kings Cross Station in London, not long after leaving the Hogwarts Express. The same eyes that the flame-haired girl beside her had written about just two short years ago.
Ginny Weasley had described them 'as green as a pickled toad,' as a result of her complete fixation with the dark haired boy. Hermione wouldn't have chosen that analogy herself, but then, at that point in time, she had thought of the owner of those eyes simply as one of her two best friends in the whole world. Now she realised one of those friends had developed a serious crush on her and the other… That was the dilemma she was facing. She knew her feelings, but was completely in the dark when it came to his. Did he feel the same way? Or did he think of her only as 'a friend'?
Suddenly her pulse quickened and her breaths became shallower. 'He's coming now,' she thought. However it was more than just a thought. Hermione knew he was coming, as if a giant force connected her mind to his. She felt an intangible presence in her mind; unable to describe it she became lost to the feeling of anticipation that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Oh my God," she whispered, so quietly that even Ginny to one side didn't hear her.
The feeling of anticipation grew and grew until…
Harry Potter emerged from the Weasley's fireplace, rising from the ashes, his black hair now darker due to soot but still as unruly as ever. It was at that point he looked up, not around the room and at the gathered people; Harry was staring directly into Hermione's eyes.
'Wow!' She thought before…
***
It was as if hundreds of Dr. Filibusters Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start fireworks had been released into Harry and Hermione's hearts. Hermione felt that if she were not already seated, her knees would have buckled. Harry was having a much trickier time considering he was standing and was going through the same feelings - the thought of lying spread-eagled on the floor in front of everyone he loved strengthened his resolve to remain standing…
***
'Wow!'
It was the only thing racing through his mind, though he wasn't sure that it was his thought alone - as soon as he had stepped into the fire at Hagrid's he could feel a growing anticipation that was both his and something else, someone else's. He couldn't fathom the reason for it, but he felt a connection between his mind and the mind of another. He wasn't able to read her thoughts but he could discern the difference between his feelings and hers.
To Harry it felt as if he could just sense her presence, but when he tried to see her, the feeling disappeared. It was hard to describe, like something that you can only see out the corner of your eyes.
All this faded from his thoughts when he looked up, into the deep hazel eyes that had haunted his dreams (before the nightmares began). His stomach jolted.
All these events had occurred within the space of a few seconds and their importance were all but lost on the people other than Harry and Hermione.
"Harry, dear!"
Mrs. Weasley had pulled him into a fierce bear hug that threatened to do to Harry what Lord Voldemort had thus far been unable to accomplish.
"Uhh!" grunted Harry. It was all he could do considering he could hardly breathe.
Mrs. Weasley released her grip hastily. "I'm sorry dear!" she said, apologising for nearly squeezing the life out of his small frame.
"Happy Birthday Harry!" chimed the whole Weasley family, Hermione (he couldn't stop thinking of her), and to Harry's utmost surprise, Albus Dumbledore, who happened to be the loudest of the gathered people.
"Happy Birthday Harry," Dumbledore repeated, his sapphire blue eyes twinkling behind his familiar half-moon spectacles. The shock of seeing his headmaster both alive (remembering his nightmare) and at The Burrow seemed to break through the trance Harry was in.
"T-thank y-y-you sir!" he stammered.
"I am glad to find once again, that you have survived another summer with your relatives Harry." A mischievous glint appeared in the elder sorcerer's eyes. Harry tried hard to keep his smile in check, but failed miserably; his green eyes the first to give evidence to his joy at being with so many people he loved.
"Right people, into the garden," began Molly Weasley, "Come on Fred, George. Move."
"Now, now mother-" Fred began. "You wouldn't want your last words to us to be scalding would you?" finished George.
This seemed to lighten Molly's mood. It had become something of a family joke between the twins and her - ever since last years Quidditch World Cup (quite possibly the best sporting event Harry had ever had the pleasure of witnessing). Whenever Molly would attempt to tell off or punish the twins, they would reply by telling her that she wouldn't want her last words with them to be angry ones.
After the complete debacle after the match last summer, a group of Death Eaters (followers of Lord Voldemort) had paraded around the vast field used to house the competition, levitating a group Muggles fifty feet above the ground. This had continued until someone had launched the Dark Mark into the sky. This had the effect of scaring the wits out of the Death Eaters, but in the process caused nearly 100,000 witches and wizards to believe that 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' had killed once again.
Molly Weasley had read Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet, and had secretly feared for her family's safety. She had practically crushed Fred and George in a tight hug as soon as they returned. From that moment onwards, Fred and George had managed to escape the wrath of their mother by reminding her of that summer's events, playing to Molly's good humour and loving heart. As yet Molly hadn't become tired of this and thus Fred and George were getting away with everything. Well, everything their mother caught them doing.
As everyone filed out into the large gnomeless garden (thanks to Crookshanks), Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, may I speak to you for a moment before we join the others for your wonderful feast?" his eyes twinkled again as he received a mischievous grin from Molly.
"Of course sir." Harry felt less nervous now that Hermione was outside, unable to burst into his thoughts. Again.
"I must leave for a short while so that I may gather another surprise for you. Ah, and before my mind wanders from the subject of surprises," Dumbledore looked directly into Harry's eyes, and, as if he were reading his mind, said, "I have a pleasant surprise that I am sure you will no doubt enjoy. Your letter for next year." Dumbledore carefully handed Harry a larger than usual letter.
Feeling its weight and bulkiness, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was another list of books by Gilderoy Lockhart. Looking towards Dumbledore, Harry opened the familiarly crested seal and pulled out a carefully folded parchment covered in writing, of the neatest kind, in bottle-green ink.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you will be beginning your Fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Also find attached a letter and package from the Headmaster.
Term starts on September First. Remember, this is an important year for you and your fellow Fifth Year students, as you will be preparing for your O.W.L's at the end of the summer term. There will be a new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor, as well as temporary replacements for the role of Care of Magical Creatures and of Potions.
Also Mr Potter, a suggestion about the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As Oliver Wood graduated from Hogwarts two school years hence, the house team is without a highly popular and proficient captain and keeper. It is my hope that you will meet with the remaining team members to seek a replacement keeper shortly after term begins.
Although it is the team's decision to elect the captain, though, it is my duty however to inform you that I have already been in contact with the team members and they have unanimously decided to pronounce you, Mr Potter, as the Gryffindor captain.
Congratulations Mr Potter, I know you will do a marvellous job and will live up to the legendary Gryffindor team of Lupin, Black, Kaytrim, Parsons, Rinier, Clift, and Potter.
Your parents would be as proud of you as I am now Mr Potter. Bear in mind that now you are team captain, the Weasley twins will no longer accept your authority over them and will utilise every opportunity to create sources for their amusement, and it will be your responsibility to decide upon all practices and game strategies. You are always welcome to come to either Madame Hooch or myself for advice whenever you feel it is necessary.
This will be a demanding year for you, but you will succeed under pressure as you have shown yourself to do so time and time again. Lastly Mr. Potter I hope to speak to you personally on the Second to discuss the coming year in more detail.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry looked up to see Dumbledore standing patiently, twiddling his thumbs as if it were the most interesting thing in the world to do. Harry began to open the headmaster's letter, instantly smiling at the loopy handwriting.
Dear Harry,
I would like to be the second person to congratulate you on your appointment as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
It is also with great pleasure and pride that I announce to you, that the school governors and I have selected you to become a school prefect.
Being chosen as a prefect demands that the person in question has an ability to be responsible for his or her actions; to be able to work well with others, both those in authority and your fellow prefects; and to show unswerving loyalty to the school and its ideals. You, Harry, have shown these traits in great abundance on countless occasions.
It is to my knowledge that you have in your possession certain wonderful magical items, which may allow you to perform your duties as a prefect far more adequately than your fellow students. I must therefore ask you to utilise your newfound responsibilities and the items within your charge appropriately. Your badge, uniform and list of duties are to be found in the accompanying parcel.
You are truly your father's son Harry, take heed of this and use it to your advantage.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry was shocked. A Basilisk might have petrified him for all his lack of movement suggested. At least while Dumbledore was standing, waiting for Harry's response to the letter, Harry didn't so much as even blink. The response Dumbledore had expected never quite came; Harry had fallen backwards and just happened to land in a comfortable chair, still with a gaping expression on his face.
"Harry, I believe it is customary to speak after receiving a very important letter such as this one." Harry was again broken out of a trance-like state by the sound of Dumbledore's voice.
"Er… Thank you! I-I mean, I have no idea what to say!"
"The very fact that you have appeared to recover from your brief loss of voice is enough thanks for me," said Dumbledore quietly. "Come, it is time we rejoined your friends." The elder wizards arm snaked out to encircle Harry's shoulders and the pair walked out into the garden and stared at the sight before their eyes.
Author's Note:
Many of you have wondered why this story is described as "Part One of the Deeper Magic Series", when it takes place at the same time as "Summer In Cornwall"(by The Heir Of Paravel).
The "Deeper Magic Series" is little misleading for a title, because the events within the stories may not necessarily follow a series / sequence. Consider, for the moment, that another great series exists, which also does not exactly run in sequence - Discworld©, by Terry Pratchett.
However, one question I can answer is whether Prophecy Of The Phoenix and Summer In Cornwall take place in the same time frame… the answer is a little misleading too, for it is both "yes" and "no", or more accurately "possibly."
You see, the end to Prophecy Of The Phoenix has not yet been written, and that is where you will discover the reasoning behind all this confusion. So, all I must ask is that you be a little bit more patient with me, and hope that I can write at least seventeen chapters in the next three months.
Deeper Magic, in essence, is a collection of stories by two authors (The Heir Of Paravel and myself) based around a deep, central theme that permeates throughout our work.
So far, Prophecy Of The Phoenix is still being written; The Gift Of Sight has been written and uploaded to Portkey as an added bonus to Summer In Cornwall, which has been completed; Christmas At Hogwarts centres around two original characters (thus the reason for it not being uploaded to Portkey) and better explains their role in Summer in the Sahara, which also is still being written;
We Fools Who Love is complete and has been uploaded; and finally The Tablet of Destiny has a Prologue, but nothing much more than that, as yet.
I sincerely hope that I have answered you all to your satisfaction, but, in case I have not, please feel free to rate & review, and e-mail me any further queries you might have.
Yours in Fellowship,
Author of Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix
Co-Author (with The Heir Of Paravel) of "Summer in the Sahara"