HP:The power of oa

December 25, 1985 9pm Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

A satisfied Albus Dumbledore walked towards his office after the satisfying Christmas dinner he shared with his staff, and a few students that had chosen to stay in school during the break. It was a good dinner, and he made a mental note to thank the house elves for their wonderful cooking. As he went inside his office, he spent a few minutes petting Fawkes, his phoenix familiar who looked like it was about to reach his burning day. Feathers dropped every now and then from its perch, and the bird's posture had weakened as the days progressed. He hoped Fawkes would burst to flame soon.

A loud keening noise suddenly blared loudly in his office and he rushed towards his silver instruments, one designed for monitoring the blood wards and general health of one Harry Potter. He stared in shock, unable to believe what the instrument indicated. He rushed to the floo and called Minerva McGonagall Transfiguration Mistress and head of Gryffindor House.

A few seconds later, the tall stern looking woman stepped out of the floo and faced the Headmaster. "Yes Albus, is something wrong?" She asked, wondering what business they had in the eve of Christmas. Albus replied "I will explain later, Minerva, for time is of the essence. We must depart now." He held an old sock and they both grabbed hold of it and disappeared in whirl of wind and colors.

They appeared in front of number four Privet Drive and gripped their clothes tighter as the chill of winter rushed through their bodies. They hurried across the icy stone foot path, with Minerva occasionally looking at Albus with a worried gaze. Upon reaching the door, the Headmaster waved his hand and it opened, revealing a dark corridor.

Upon entering the house and closing the door, Minerva rounded on Albus and asked in a worried but angry voice. "Is this about Harry? Where is he? Where are the Dursleys? They haven't even turned the heating on! It's freezing!"

Albus looked around and said. "Search upstairs, and I'll look at the kitchen and living room, I fear he is in mortal peril." Minerva gasped and ran upstairs, thinking that poor little Harry was cold and alone, and she started shouting "Harry! Harry!" opening the various doors to look for the small child.

Albus lied to her, for he knew what he saw, but even he didn't believe it. He refused to accept the situation. He started flicking proximity charms at every room to identify if someone was there. He found none, and Minerva came down after a minute, looking extremely worried. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and rubbed her arms, it was as cold inside this house as outside. "He's not upstairs, and I don't think he even has a room there." She said, her voice tight with concern.

"He is not down here either. we have searched every room in the house." Albus said. He was relieved now, he thought that his instruments malfunctioned, maybe Petunia took her nephew somewhere warm for the holiday in a family vacation. He breathed a sigh of relief and spoke to Minerva with a smile. "False alarm Minerva, I think that Harry is somewhere..." He trailed off and his eyes narrowed as he spotted a piece of paper sticking half way from under the cupboard. He picked up the paper, and read the childish writing written in crayon as Minerva read over his shoulder.

Dear Santa, plis bring me fud and a nice blanket. I am very very cold and very very hungry. Iwill try to be a gud boy next year and try harder to stop being a freak . harry poter.

Albus dropped the paper to the floor, as Minerva wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh where is he!" Minerva cried in frustration, and with nothing to do she opened the cupboard under the stairs, to see if there were letters hidden there. She found more and worse, and she fell down to the floor with her mouth open and a weird sound forming in her throat. Albus looked inside and he closed his eyes as a single tear dropped to his cheek. He turned around, punched the wooden door of the cupboard and fell down to the floor. He placed his bowed head on his knees and cried, for he has failed.

The body of Harry Potter was curled over a thin dirty mattress, his eyes wide open and his lips blue. He was painfully thin, and wore a thin large shirt and dirty large pants. Several more letters written in this brown pad paper littered the floor, his last thoughts before he died imprinted on them forever. Minerva cried softly, for Harry Potter is clearly dead and they were too late to save him. She looked at Albus, clearly a broken man now, silently weeping by the cupboard. Gathering her Gryffindor courage, she stood up and walked to Mrs. Figg's house to use her floo and call the aurors.

The front lawn of number four Privet Drive was occupied by so many wizards and witches that aurors had to cast a ward type notice me not charm to prevent the neighbors from getting suspicious. Red eyed aurors with grim faces stood around the yard, along with reporters, their enthusiasm gone. Some famous personalities, like Lucius Malfoy were there, anger written on his face. Even though the child defeated his Master, no wizarding child should be treated like this. He was glad his own son was warm at their mansion, with his mother to provide warmth and comfort. Harry Potter had none and died from hunger and the cold, writing letters till his last breathe. For the first time, Aurors and ex death eaters were of alike of mind, for they only thought of one name. Dursley.