I started this when I was bored in summer school last summer. Yeah, summer school. I'm not stupid or anything, I was just lazy last year. lol. I had started another Harry Potter fanfic a long time ago, but it wasn't really going anywhere (well, actually, half of it (literally) was going somewhere, but oh well), so I just started a new one instead. What do you think?
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"Uncle Vernon, I..." Harry began. He was cut off by Vernon's booming voice.
"Quiet!"
"But, maybe I could..." Once again, he was interrupted.
"Shut-up!"
The car ride home from Hogwarts so far had been less than enjoyable. Returning to the Dursleys' house each summer always made Harry's gut wrench, but this summer, he had an idea, a brilliant idea, that he knew the Dursleys would like. But how could he tell them about it if he could never get a word in? Harry took another deep breath and tried again.
"I have an idea that you'll like!" Harry yelled quickly, hoping that the last part would catch someone's attention. Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon had only heard the first few words, because the rest was drowned out by screeching tires.
Uncle Vernon swung the car to the side of the road and stopped do abruptly, that Harry lurched forward in his seat, despite his seatbelt, and collided with the back of Uncle Vernon's seat, sending his glasses flying to the car floor. As Harry searched blindly for his glasses, he heard Uncle Vernon's voice ringing through his ears.
"Listen here, Potter! You are not to speak a word in this car! Do you understand me?!"
Harry's finger's met with something on the car floor that was hard and slightly warm from the heat of his face. As Harry slipped his glasses back over his eyes, Uncle Vernon finally came into view. He had turned around in his seat, staring at Harry murderously. His large face, hiding his neck completely, had turned a deep shade of magenta. Harry opened his mouth to once more try to tell Uncle Vernon about his wonderful plan, but closed it again, thinking better of it. Instead, he merely nodded silently, forcing himself not to blink as he stared Uncle Vernon down. Harry was only slightly aware of Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who was at least four times as wide as Harry. Aunt Petunia was looking angry, staring out the window. She was apparently willing hersekf not to interfere. Dudley, who took up the two seats beside Harry, was sniggering softly. Harry knew that he needed to get his word out, but how could he do it without them knowing that it was him who was speaking before he finished?
Uncle Vernon spared one last glare at Harry before swerving back onto the road, quite unexpectedly, earning a few honks from the cars behind them.
It was an hour or two after Harry got locked back up in his room that he got his second idea. He would write a letter, yes, that's it, a letter, describing his idea. this would be an ideal way for Harry to explain his plan because Uncle Vernon wouldn't be able to interrupt a letter and better yetm he wouldn't know who it was from until after he had read the entire thing.
Harry instantly reached for his quill and parchment, but remembered the Dursley's first experience with an owl. As Hedwig hooted disappointedly as Harry was putting his parchment away, something jolted inside of him. Staring down at the quill he was about to put away, memories of previous letter that he had written crossed his mind. Most of them had been addressed to Sirius. Just the thought of Sirius's name shattered something inside of him. Harry had a sudden impulse to write a letter, a novel-length letter, to Sirius. Although, Harry knew it would be pointless because it wouldn't reach his beloved godfather, Sirius Black, and never would.
Five minutes passed as Harry continued to stare at the quill, lost in thought. There was no way that Sirius could be gone, there was just no way. He couldn't be...dead.
Harry gritted his teeth and threw his quill back onto his small desk, knocking over the open bottle of ink, splattering big, black, blotches of ink and glass all over his bedroom floor. Harry could tell that the sound of shattering glass had roused the rest of the family downstairs.
A minute later, Aunt Petunia thundered through the door. "What are you doi--" Aunt Petunia stopped mid-sentance and looked at Harry who was still holding the quill in his hands. "Who are you writing to? It's better to be that blasted god-father of yours again!" she shouted.
Harry had been hearing Sirius's name repeated in his head ever since Sirius's death, but hearing the mention of him aloud, and coming from Aunt Petinia of all people, made his heart sink. Harry lowered his eyes to the floor.
"No," he sighed. "I wasn't writing to Sirius."
Aunt Petunia narrowed her eyes. "Why not?" She must have expected that to be the first thing Harry would do once he got home.
"He's..." Harry paused, wondering whether to tell her the truth or not. "He's on vacation."
"And your stupid pigeon can't reach him there?" she asked. Normally, Harry would have commented on Aunt Petunia's calling Hedwig a 'stupid pidgeon', but he barely even noticed she'd said it. His mind was occupied by Sirius and nothing could penetrate those thoughts. Not even his aunt.
"No, Hedwig, my owl, can't reach him...there."
There was a look in Petunia's eyes that Harry had never seen before. It was something like...worry?
"Why not? Where is he?" Why is Aunt Petunia so concerned, Harry thought to himself. The subject of Sirius was beginning to work on his nerves, but if Aunt Petunia was willing to listen to him about his god-father, then maybe she'd listen to him about his wonderful idea, too.
"Aunt Petunia..." Harry started hesitently. He waited a few seconds to see if she was going to interrupt. When she didn't, he continued. "What if you could get rid of me for most or even the rest of the summer?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked. Petunia obviously had no idea where this was going. His next question had been nagging at him ever since he left Plaform 9 3/4. He doubted that he'd get the answer he wanted, but he could try it anyway. Since he knew a lot more about her, she can't be as boring as she had always been.
"What if I stayed with Mrs. Figg for a while?" Harry asked, hesitantly. Ever since he found out she was a witch, he had been wondering if he could just stay with her. And Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would still think that Harry was trapped there with a bunch of cats, miserable. It was the perfect plan to get away from the Dursleys, but would it work?
"NO!" she bellowed. She was clearly panicked. But, if she hated Harry so much, then why wouldn't she want to get rid of him?
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"You cannot! You are staying here!" she yelled back at him.
"But--"
"End of story! Now, get to bed!"
"But, it's not even that dark..." Harry said.
"I don't care! You are not to go anywhere but this room, do you hear me?" Aunt Petunia yelled.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," said Harry, lowering his eyes to the floor. He said her name with resentment which clearly was apparent in his tone, but she either hadn't noticed, or hadn't cared. Harry figured it was the former because Aunt Petunia rarely let Harry get away with anything whether is was giving her an attitude or cursing Dudley.
"Good."
A long silence followed. Aunt Petunia stood staring at Harry for a few moments more, then turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Harry slumped and layed back on his bed, glaring at the ceiling. Why was this even happening? Why does he have to be stuck here while everyone else he knows is undoubtedly out having the time of their lives? Oh, yeah, Harry thought sourly, because if it isn't "home" to me anymore, Voldemort'll find me. He turned on his side, thinking of that fact, comparing it to yet another summer at the Dursley's. It would, he thought, probably be better than this. He closed his eyes and was swept away in a blissful, dreamless sleep.
.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.
"Uncle Vernon, I..." Harry began. He was cut off by Vernon's booming voice.
"Quiet!"
"But, maybe I could..." Once again, he was interrupted.
"Shut-up!"
The car ride home from Hogwarts so far had been less than enjoyable. Returning to the Dursleys' house each summer always made Harry's gut wrench, but this summer, he had an idea, a brilliant idea, that he knew the Dursleys would like. But how could he tell them about it if he could never get a word in? Harry took another deep breath and tried again.
"I have an idea that you'll like!" Harry yelled quickly, hoping that the last part would catch someone's attention. Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon had only heard the first few words, because the rest was drowned out by screeching tires.
Uncle Vernon swung the car to the side of the road and stopped do abruptly, that Harry lurched forward in his seat, despite his seatbelt, and collided with the back of Uncle Vernon's seat, sending his glasses flying to the car floor. As Harry searched blindly for his glasses, he heard Uncle Vernon's voice ringing through his ears.
"Listen here, Potter! You are not to speak a word in this car! Do you understand me?!"
Harry's finger's met with something on the car floor that was hard and slightly warm from the heat of his face. As Harry slipped his glasses back over his eyes, Uncle Vernon finally came into view. He had turned around in his seat, staring at Harry murderously. His large face, hiding his neck completely, had turned a deep shade of magenta. Harry opened his mouth to once more try to tell Uncle Vernon about his wonderful plan, but closed it again, thinking better of it. Instead, he merely nodded silently, forcing himself not to blink as he stared Uncle Vernon down. Harry was only slightly aware of Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who was at least four times as wide as Harry. Aunt Petunia was looking angry, staring out the window. She was apparently willing hersekf not to interfere. Dudley, who took up the two seats beside Harry, was sniggering softly. Harry knew that he needed to get his word out, but how could he do it without them knowing that it was him who was speaking before he finished?
Uncle Vernon spared one last glare at Harry before swerving back onto the road, quite unexpectedly, earning a few honks from the cars behind them.
It was an hour or two after Harry got locked back up in his room that he got his second idea. He would write a letter, yes, that's it, a letter, describing his idea. this would be an ideal way for Harry to explain his plan because Uncle Vernon wouldn't be able to interrupt a letter and better yetm he wouldn't know who it was from until after he had read the entire thing.
Harry instantly reached for his quill and parchment, but remembered the Dursley's first experience with an owl. As Hedwig hooted disappointedly as Harry was putting his parchment away, something jolted inside of him. Staring down at the quill he was about to put away, memories of previous letter that he had written crossed his mind. Most of them had been addressed to Sirius. Just the thought of Sirius's name shattered something inside of him. Harry had a sudden impulse to write a letter, a novel-length letter, to Sirius. Although, Harry knew it would be pointless because it wouldn't reach his beloved godfather, Sirius Black, and never would.
Five minutes passed as Harry continued to stare at the quill, lost in thought. There was no way that Sirius could be gone, there was just no way. He couldn't be...dead.
Harry gritted his teeth and threw his quill back onto his small desk, knocking over the open bottle of ink, splattering big, black, blotches of ink and glass all over his bedroom floor. Harry could tell that the sound of shattering glass had roused the rest of the family downstairs.
A minute later, Aunt Petunia thundered through the door. "What are you doi--" Aunt Petunia stopped mid-sentance and looked at Harry who was still holding the quill in his hands. "Who are you writing to? It's better to be that blasted god-father of yours again!" she shouted.
Harry had been hearing Sirius's name repeated in his head ever since Sirius's death, but hearing the mention of him aloud, and coming from Aunt Petinia of all people, made his heart sink. Harry lowered his eyes to the floor.
"No," he sighed. "I wasn't writing to Sirius."
Aunt Petunia narrowed her eyes. "Why not?" She must have expected that to be the first thing Harry would do once he got home.
"He's..." Harry paused, wondering whether to tell her the truth or not. "He's on vacation."
"And your stupid pigeon can't reach him there?" she asked. Normally, Harry would have commented on Aunt Petunia's calling Hedwig a 'stupid pidgeon', but he barely even noticed she'd said it. His mind was occupied by Sirius and nothing could penetrate those thoughts. Not even his aunt.
"No, Hedwig, my owl, can't reach him...there."
There was a look in Petunia's eyes that Harry had never seen before. It was something like...worry?
"Why not? Where is he?" Why is Aunt Petunia so concerned, Harry thought to himself. The subject of Sirius was beginning to work on his nerves, but if Aunt Petunia was willing to listen to him about his god-father, then maybe she'd listen to him about his wonderful idea, too.
"Aunt Petunia..." Harry started hesitently. He waited a few seconds to see if she was going to interrupt. When she didn't, he continued. "What if you could get rid of me for most or even the rest of the summer?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked. Petunia obviously had no idea where this was going. His next question had been nagging at him ever since he left Plaform 9 3/4. He doubted that he'd get the answer he wanted, but he could try it anyway. Since he knew a lot more about her, she can't be as boring as she had always been.
"What if I stayed with Mrs. Figg for a while?" Harry asked, hesitantly. Ever since he found out she was a witch, he had been wondering if he could just stay with her. And Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would still think that Harry was trapped there with a bunch of cats, miserable. It was the perfect plan to get away from the Dursleys, but would it work?
"NO!" she bellowed. She was clearly panicked. But, if she hated Harry so much, then why wouldn't she want to get rid of him?
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"You cannot! You are staying here!" she yelled back at him.
"But--"
"End of story! Now, get to bed!"
"But, it's not even that dark..." Harry said.
"I don't care! You are not to go anywhere but this room, do you hear me?" Aunt Petunia yelled.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," said Harry, lowering his eyes to the floor. He said her name with resentment which clearly was apparent in his tone, but she either hadn't noticed, or hadn't cared. Harry figured it was the former because Aunt Petunia rarely let Harry get away with anything whether is was giving her an attitude or cursing Dudley.
"Good."
A long silence followed. Aunt Petunia stood staring at Harry for a few moments more, then turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Harry slumped and layed back on his bed, glaring at the ceiling. Why was this even happening? Why does he have to be stuck here while everyone else he knows is undoubtedly out having the time of their lives? Oh, yeah, Harry thought sourly, because if it isn't "home" to me anymore, Voldemort'll find me. He turned on his side, thinking of that fact, comparing it to yet another summer at the Dursley's. It would, he thought, probably be better than this. He closed his eyes and was swept away in a blissful, dreamless sleep.