I hope you’re doing alright. After what happened at the Tri – Wizard Tournament, I’ve been afraid to look in the newspaper, in fear that an announcement of your death is on the front page.
That has not happened yet, and I thank God everyday for that. I swore to your father I’d take care of you when he was gone, and I’m not following through on my promise.
Headmaster says You-Know-Who is waiting for your return to school this coming term. Do be careful. Send me an owl from the owlery once you get to school. Be careful son.
Harry smiled a little, thankful for someone caring so deeply for him. Even if it was someone he rarely got to saw. Sure, Mrs. Weasley loved him like he was one of her own, but there was something about Sirius. He knew his parents. Just knowing that little fact gave him more comfort and more of a reason to believe he wasn’t a murderer.
Folding the piece of parchment, he put it into his trunk and locked it, then walked over to his bird cage.
“Are you ready for the trip?” He asked his owl, petting her head softly, and the owl nipped his fingers lovingly. “We’ll be there this time tomorrow.”
He looked around his bedroom. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked his room. He’d spent most of his time here than anywhere else over the summer, not like anyone cared. He was deep in his thoughts when another tap on the window bringing him out of his tranze. He smiled a little, recognizing the owl, much bigger than last time he’d seen it, but looking the same. He opened his window, letting Pig into the room. He wasn’t so crazy acting either. And extremely confident, like Hedwig was. Hedwig hooted approvingly, recognizing the owl, and moved over in her cage as Harry let the bird in to feed and water it. Harry turned and sat on his bed, reading the letter.
I decided to make you a nickname. However, I can’t think of one. Whatever.
I’ll meet you at platform 9 3/4, bring Pig. Isn’t he big now? I’m
so glad he’s lost is annoyingness. Take care! See you soon!
PS – Mom sends her love.
PPS – Fred and George said thanks about a thousand times.
PPPS – Hermione wants to know why you haven’t written us? She’s worried, but I told her you’re probably really busy.
Harry nodded at the paper, folding it and putting it in his pocket. He didn’t bother opening his trunk again. Everything was pretty much put away. Pig was hooting happily, and Hedwig was chirping back, making some noise that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t approve of.
“Shut up you dumb birds. If Uncle Vernon – “
Heavy footsteps on the stairs made Harry freeze. He didn’t know whether he was in trouble or it was Dudley running up the stairs to the room. Both of the owls froze, watching the door. Uncle Vernon threw the door open, his face purple, glaring at Harry, then at the bird cage.
“Two owls?!” He yelled, approaching Harry.
“One is..The brown one is Pig, he’s Ron’s. Don’t hurt him, I’ll send him home right now..” Harry rushed over to the bird cage, but Uncle Vernon grabbed the collar of the very large shirt.
“You, boy, are in very much trouble.” Uncle Vernon shoved Harry towards his bed. “Don’t look at me like that. I know what you did boy.”
“What did I do?” Harry challenged, not afraid of his uncle anymore.
“You scratched my car.” Vernon shouted, throwing a fist back. “And that china that was broken last night, that was you too! You were angry because you were punished! I know you did it! You magicked yourself to do it!”
“I don’t know how to magic myself to do anything like that!” Harry defended himself, but it was no use.
“Lying doesn’t get you anywhere in life.” Uncle Vernon hit Harry forcefully on his eye, nearly knocking Harry out.
“Don’t touch me! My Godfather will -“
“Will what? Murder me? I’ve never seen him once, or seen any letters from him!” Vernon shouted, spit flying from his mouth, his face getting angrier.
“He can’t see me! He’s in hiding, and..” Harry trailed off, knowing he couldn’t say he had letters from Sirius Black; that would ruin him.
“And he’s not your Godfather! Who would want to be?” Vernon slammed his fist on the bedside table next to him, making the owls screetch and flap their wings wildly. “You’re not getting any supper tonight, or any breakfast tomorrow. When you come back from your school, you won’t eat for a week!”
Harry stayed on his bed, anger rushing through him. He imagined Petunia, Dudley and Vernon being killed. He wanted it more than anything at the moment. More than that though, he wanted to trade spots with Cedric. His body ached thinking about it, and he would nearly cry. He taught himself not to after the first month of vacation, because the Dursley’s couldn’t see him cry. Ever.
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
The next morning, Harry was waken up. By what, he knew, but what the nightmare was about, he couldn’t remember. Flashes in his eyes were of Cedric. An image of Voldemort was another one. His scar burned badly, making his head pound and his vision blur. He felt sick. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it read 6:50 am. The Hogwarts Express leaves at 9. Harry forced himself out of the bed, putting on his glasses, wincing painfully. His eye barely opened. He grabbed his wand and some jeans and a shirt, then walked to the washroom to get ready.
In the washroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. His eye was nearly swollen shut.
“Swellerius!” He said as loudly as he could, pointing the wand at his eye, and in a couple moments, the swelling was gone. He couldn’t do anything about the bruise. Sighing, he turned on the shower.
Harry didn’t know how long he was in there, and he didn’t care. He could smell the bacon from the breakfast table downstairs. It had to be nearly 7:30 now. Uncle Vernon had pounded on the door a while ago now, but Harry had ignored it. He got out as the water started to run cold, and stood in front of the foggy mirror. He ran his hand over it, the fog disappearing in one spot. He studied his eye, deciding he’d tell the truth. Part of it anyway. He got dressed slowly, taking his time, thinking about the year ahead of him. He had a horrible summer with the nightmares. How bad would it be at school?
When he was done dressing and combing his hair, his bangs covering his scar, he left the room. He dumped the dirty clothes in his trunk, then pulled on some socks, then his shoes. He got up, and walked over to the cage, opening it so the birds could fly out.
“Carry the cage.” He demanded, and Hedwig and Pig picked up the cage with their feet, flying slowly near the ground because of the weight. Harry grabbed the handle on the side of his trunk, dragging it out of his room and to the top of the stairs.
“Dudley, help Harry.” Aunt Petunia demanded.
“But mum, why do I have to?” He whined, stomping on the floor.
“Because the sooner he’s got his stuff out the door, the sooner he’s gone.” Uncle Vernon responded, a large hint of distaste in his voice.
Dudley ran up the stairs happily, picking up the end of it and helping Harry down the stairs, threatening to push him down at every step.
“You push me down, and you’re fat ass is going down with me.” Harry sneered, fed up with his cousin’s attitude.
“I’m telling!” Dudley gasped, his eyes round.
“You think I can’t get to my train if your parents don’t take me? You’re very, very wrong.” Harry got on the last step, dragging the trunk outside to the car. The trunk was already open, waiting. “Come on Hedwig, Pig, in your cage.”
The owls dropped the cage, thankful, and got into it, waiting for Harry to latch it. Once everything was in the car, the Dursley’s came outside, and Dudley pushed Harry out of the way so he could get in first. Harry got in, and stared out the window, aware of the snickers Dudley got, everytime he looked over at Harry’s eye. The ride to King’s Crosse was uneventful other than that.
Uncle Vernon pulled up the the curb, and got out, walking off to get a cart for Harry. Harry got out of the car, and went to the trunk, pulling out the bird cage and the trunk. Uncle Vernon came back, lifting the trunk onto the cart, then shutting the back of the car. Harry was putting the bird cage on the cart, while the Dursley’s drove off, and a familiar voice behind him called his name.
“Harry!” The boy came over, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders.
“Hey Oliver.” Harry said quietly, pushing his cart as Oliver started talking.
“How’ve you been? Have a nice summer?” Oliver asked, grinning.
“Oh, quite nice.” Harry sarcastically answered, without a hint of truth in it.
“Practicing your quidditch?” Oliver changed the subject, trying to make Harry happy.
“No. The Dursley’s don’t believe in magic.” Harry sighed, walking past platforms 5 and 6.
[ Edited by PatheticInvader on 2002/4/19 14:17:38 ]