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Harry Potter and the Heir of Merlin

by -> hermionestar14
Reviews (389) | Updated : 29/05/05 | Published : 22/06/04 | Romance/None | Rating: PG
This chapter was posted on: 22/06/04

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It was a hot and lazy day at Privet Drive, and even the bees seemed to be going in slow motion. A fourteen year old boy named Harry Potter was slaving away over his Aunt Petunia's flower bed, spreading manure around the charming, colorful plants. He straightened up and his back gave a loud crack. He glanced longingly at the orange popsicle his fat cousin Dudley was slurping up, and wished he could take it and shove it up the lardy pig's behind. But he knew that if he did anything of the sort, he'd be thrown out of Dudley's second bedroom and locked in his cupboard with bread and water for the rest of the summer.

Harry's beautiful, emerald eyes scanned the backyard and something strange caught his eye. An extremely small owl was out in broad daylight, struggling with an extremely large parcel.Owl post. Traditional for wizards...and Harry was a wizard...maybe one of the greatest of all least in his future he could be.

The suffering bird came to a rest on the sill of Harry's open window.

"Harry Potter! Get back to work you filthy, little mongrel!" his aunt screamed. "Dudley, would you like another lemon pop?" Obviously, Dudley had gone off his diet, Harry thought.

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to work. He knew he'd have to wait to get up to his room to see who the parcel was from. While Dudley's mother got him another lemon pop, and cooed and fawned over him, Harry thought about the past 14 years with the Dursley's.

They had not been easy. Harry's parents had been killed when he was just one year old, by the most infamous and powerful wizards in the books... Lord Voldemort. And somehow miraculously, Harry had escaped him, but with a souvenir of Voldemort's curse...a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Ever since Harry had gotten his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had four adventure packed years behind him, where he had encountered Voldemort once each time and come out alive. His most recent year, his fourth year, Harry had played an unwilling role in bringing Voldemort back to his form.

Although Harry was a hero at his school and in the wizarding world, here, at 4 Privet Drive, the Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley, his closest relatives, treated him like no more than dirt. When Harry stumbled into the house, covered in sweat, dirt and manure, he did not receive a pat on the back, nor an offering of ice cold lemonade, but a shrill cry from his aunt and a reprimand from his beefy Uncle Vernon to stop tracking dirt into the house. And Harry wished that he didn't have kin like the Dursleys.

Harry tiptoed up the steps of the house, so as not to receive another rebuke from his uncle and quicly took a cool shower and changed into a horrible neon orange and mustard yellow checked sweater that reminded him painfully of his friend Hagrid and Hagrid's horrible hairy suit and tie. He would have even taken some of his old friend's rock cakes right now, just to fatten him up a bit, he thought, as he rolled the edges of the sleeves over six times and fastened a leather strap aroung the huge brown pants to hold them up. Not that anyone would see how far down my pants hang, he thought, since the sweater almost touches my knees.

Suddenly, Harry remembered the owl in his room, and dashed in. The owl was sitting in a dignified position on his bedspread. Harry quickly released the letter from the owl's leg and sent the owl off on his next journey.

Harry quickly unfolded the letter and glanced at the bottom of the letter and grinned so widely, he thought his face would crack.

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