---CHAPTER TWO---
A Bump in the Night
There was not much that could be said about the town of Little Whinging, Surrey, unless one counted the unusual weather for this time of year. Normally, people would be complaining about the warm weather and donning loose clothing, tending to their precious gardens, and several dozen other summer routines. However, this was not the case.
The chill surrounding the air in its cold grip was very questionable at this time of year, but had never happened before. The local weather sections in the newspapers and televisions had dubbed it a sort of bizarre "high pressure" area, and everyone had believed them, thinking the weather reporters to be right each time.
No one really cared for explanations much anyways at that time, instead giving themselves up to turn the heater on and either curl up in front of the television or go on the computer.
But at this late hour, the only activity present was sleeping. The only light came from the dimly lit streetlamps every few steps. A chill breeze crept through the air. The half moon emerged from hiding behind a unyielding cloud, casting tentrils of silver light upon the face of the sleeping town. Everything was dead silent.
Except for outside number four, Privet Drive.
A sharp crack sounded, and a tall male figure tumbled to the pavement, cursing quietly. Not half a second later, another crack split the silence like a gun, and a female figure emerged from nowhere, stepping over the male, now getting up.
"Think anyone heard?" The female said anxiously.
"I don't know," the male grunted. "But we'd better get out of sight."
"You and your 'Forget the Put-Outer'." the female said, slightly sourly. Then her tone softened. "Are you sure this is the place?"
The male figure chuckled quietly. "Course it is, having rescued him from it in the dead of night."
***
A light snoring was all that was heard in the dreary mess of Harry Potter's bedroom.
Several hours before, he had been counting down the hours until midnight; it was his birthday and he was eager to try some magic on his own without punishment. Of course, he could not guarantee that the moment he started using magic that the Ministry would be sending him a little reminder, but it was worth a shot. The general magical population thought him a hero, and would generally be peeved if he was contradicted for a little excitement. Of course, Harry couldn't really have cared less if he was punished. He didn't really care for much anymore.
Of course, he was eager to visit the Burrow yet again, in anticipation of Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley's wedding. He had known and known of the pair for quite some time;Fleur from the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year, while Bill Weasley was the eldest brother of his best friend, Ron.
But now he was soundly asleep, wand dangling from his right hand and a slightly crumpled note from Ron.
Dear Harry,
Dad gave us the go-ahead for the invites! We're coming to get you on your birthday, and then we can have your birthday tea several days before the wedding starts. A lot of people wanted to come; the entire Order's coming, Seamus, Neville and his grandmother. The list goes on.
Hoping to see you soon,
--Ron
This would make a great combination to Harry; he could spend the day terrorizing the Dursleys with magic, and look forward to a visit from the Weasleys.
Of course, he was completely unaware of just how early Ron would come get him. Even more so the fact that Ron, in fact, was looking through the window at his form in repose.
"Doesn't he look so lovely." Ron grinned at Hermione beside him. They were both gliding on brooms; Ron on his Cleansweep Eleven, Hermione on one of the twin's brooms.
"I don't see how that could even be considered comfortable." said Hermione, frowning. "He's sprawled out in a chair."
"You wake him."
She sighed. "As you wish." Hermione tapped her wand on the window.
**
Harry was awakened by a soft tapping noise. He rolled over sleepily, eyes still closed.
"Hedwig, it's too late. Y'know, it's not customary to wake your own master up in the dead of night just to make him open the window."
When none of her annoyed hoot or impatient click of her beak came, he opened his eyes and saw his owl staring not at him, but at the window. Harry was suddenly aware that two silhouettes were there; he tightened his grip on his wand momentarily, but relaxed when the silhouettes came into focus.
One was rather tall and gangly, while the other had a large mane of unusually bushy hair.
Harry grinned, for the first time for a very long period.
i read allot here but this story has to be one of the best. this is amazing. I'm a struggling wighter myself so i no this must of took some time.you barley even have errors in your story. Amazing. please keep going this story is so awesome. i really like how you name the chapters, allot of people don't do that in here. wow you could make as a real wighter.Well please please please wright some more today.
"Oh, look, he sees us." Ron Weasley's voice said. "Come on, mate. Off your hunkers."
Harry strode to the window quickly and opened it. He noticed that both of them were seemingly levitating on brooms. "How're you two?"
Hermione beamed at him through the darkness. "Great. I'm allowed to use magic at home; Mum and dad were quite impressed, I must say."
"And dad said that mum and Fleur would go ballistic if you couldn't make it to the wedding. So we're here to fetch you."
Harry beamed. "Good....I suppose I'd better pack..."
"Oh, we'll help!" Hermione said brightly. She tried to crawl in, but some of her bushy hair caught on the windowsill. "Ah. Ow."
Ron chuckled and patted her back. Hermione was forced to use a Severing Charm to undo her hair.
Harry started packing all his books and belongings over the years. The bundled Sneakoscope he had gotten from Ron for his thirteenth birthday, the photo album of his family from Hagrid in his first year, his Firebolt...all those piled into a rather battered old trunk in the corner of his room.
Ron stared blankly. "Harry, what're you doing?"
"Packing." Harry said, perplexed.
"You know you're of age now, right?"
In the excitement of the moment, Harry had forgotten that he was allowed to use magic now that he was seventeen.
"Oh - right." he stepped back, picked up his wand, and racked his brains as to how to pack with magic. He had seen Tonks do it once.
Finally, he complied with a wide sweeping motion of his wand towards the truck; everything went wild and missed completely. Ron was hit in the face with several pairs of underwear.
"Really." he muttered, throwing them off his face into the trunk.
"Sorry." Harry could not help sniggering.
Hermione stepped forwards. "Oh, let me have a go, Harry. I've practised it before."
She went through the exact same motion, and everything rose up and piled neatly into the trunk. Harry took a quick peek and decided that even Mrs. Weasley would be hard pressed to make it neater.
He bewitched the trunk to make it super light, and handed it to Ron, who quickly dipped to the ground.
"Here, give me Hedwig." Hermione said urgently. Harry handed her the cage. Finally, Ron hovered outside Harry's window. "Well, come on then."
Harry was halfway to the window when suddenly he remembered something and froze.
"What?" Ron hissed impatiently.
"The Dursleys. I'll probably never see them again."
Ron was incredulous. "You're not going to wake them up and tell them, are you?"
Harry laughed. "Of course not. But I need to write them something, it's the least they deserve. I don't suppose you have any parchment on you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do." Ron recalled, and tossed a slightly crumpled sheaf of parchment in Harry's direction. It turned out to be the remnants of a failed letter, but the recipient's name was scribbled out.
He ran to the desk, took out a spare bottle of ink and a quill from his pockey and wrote a quick note.
To the Dursleys...
We may never see each other again, so I bid you farewell and good luck for the future.
--Harry
He couldn't think of anything else to write, but added a cheeky postscript.
P.S. You should really get an electronic lock so that Dudley can't get at the larder.
Smiling slightly, he recalled the former Minister of Magic's words. I'm sure you are fond of each other...er....very deep down.
"Let's go." he told Ron, after clambering onto the back of his broom.
"Excellent." Ron said. "Oh, we need to get you your Apparating License after. Dad's taking you."
They landed. Ron gripped his broom and Harry's trunk in one hand and Harry's forearm in the other; as did Hermione, carrying her borrowed broom and an anxious Hedwig in the other.
"Ready?" Hermione asked.
Harry took one last look back at Number Four, Privet Drive.
"Ready." he said, not looking back, and bracing himself.
They disapparated.