Harry Potter received an unexpected surprise that summer.
The train ride home from Hogwart's Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry had seemed especially long, giving Harry an unkind amount of time to reflect on his fourth year at the unusual school. He absently-mindedly rubbed the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead as he recalled the stressful experiences. Some people, he realized, were actually bent on killing him. As much as he thought about it, he still couldn't wrap his head around that concept. He had faced his own death so many times, and come out victorious and alive on each occasion, that he had begun to feel semi-invincible. Only, such a short time ago, his fragile mortality had been thrust in his face. A schoolmate had died; Cedric Diggory, the seeker for the Hufflepuff qudditch team was dead because of circumstances that neither he nor Harry had any control over. And Harry couldn't deal with it.
There were people out to kill him.
He ground his knuckles into his forehead and looked unseeingly out the window at the inappropriately fresh and sunny landscape.
His friends Ron and Hermione, along with Ron's little sister Ginny, watched him with concern. This brooding, sad teenager was nothing like the enigmatic boy that they were used to. They had given up trying to cheer him up early on in the train ride. Not even when Ron's older twin brothers popped in with loads of trick gear did he crack the slightest smile.
Hermione spoke quietly, "Ron, I'm worried. Should he spend the summer with us? I don't think that he could handle summer with his aunt and uncle."
It was well known that Harry disliked his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley - his only living relatives - almost as much as they disliked him. Each year, he came back with stories of mistreatment and, before his second year of school at Hogwart's, Ron and his brothers had had to go rescue him from the unloving clutches of the Dursleys.
"I dunno, Hermione," Ron muttered back, "I'm worried, too, and I know that my mum'd be sure to take him in, but." he gestured at Harry, "Do you even think that it'd do any good?"
Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. He could hear the conversations that his friends were having, but ignored them. He didn't have the strength to deal with other people. He barely had the strength to deal with himself.
They arrived at King's Cross station in the late afternoon. The sun sparkled off the rails and the trains. Harry shuffled towards where families were waiting for the Hogwart's students. Hermione gave Harry a quick hug and told him that, if he needed to talk to anyone at any time, he could give her a call. Then she dragged her gear to where her parents, the Dr.s Granger D.D.S. were waiting. They had been informed about the incidents at the Tri-Wizard Cup, as had all of the students' relatives, and hugged their daughter tightly. They waved at Harry, then walked over to their waiting car. Mrs. Weasley bustled quickly over to Harry from where the rest of the Weasleys were standing.
"Are you going to be alright, love?" she asked, ruffling Harry's already wild black hair maternally, "You're more than welcome to spend the summer with us."
He tried to smile at her, but the smile didn't make it to his mouth. "I'll be alright," he tried to assure her, "Thanks, though. I'll let you know if I need anything." Her eyes searched his. She knew that he needed to sort things out for himself. She'd raised five boys herself, after all.
"Alright, then," she decided. She caught him up in a hug that would have embarrassed any of her own children then let him go. "If you need anything, Harry," she told him. Harry nodded at her and watched her gather up her brood.
His vivid green eyes scanned the rest scene. Two sets of relatives were notably missing: The Diggorys were absent, because their son had been a victim of dark magic and wasn't on the train home. Also among the absent, though, were the Dursleys. They grumbled and moaned every time Harry came home from school, but were generally on time. Harry frowned and pushed the cart carrying all of his possessions in front of him as he looked for his hated family.
After nearly a half hour of searching, Harry's concern had grown more frantic. He sat down near the arrivals platform and put his forehead in his hands.
Where were they? What was he going to do?
The sky grew dusky and slightly overcast as Harry waited. Hedwig, his snowy owl, squawked indignantly in her cage.
"It's alright, girl," he told her soothingly. But, as the hour grew later, he wasn't so sure. With no plan, and no other choice, Harry Potter waited in King's Cross station, feeling very alone.
* * *
"Oh, I am so sorry!"
The woman's voice startled Harry awake. Waiting for someone to arrive, he had nodded off. He looked around for the voice's source. He found it in a smallish, familiar woman rushing towards him.
"Mrs. Figg?" he asked, astonished.
"Harry, you'll have to forgive me, I'm always so terrible with times. I simply forgot that today was the day you were to arrive. Well, let's get on with it, then." She said this in a flurry as she bustled up to him. Her manner of dress reminded him of the wizards and witches that he'd seen at the Quidditch Cup less than a year ago; her feet were stuffed into bright white basketball style trainers, her bottom half clad in blue-jean shorts paired with a ruffled yellow skirt, her top sported the smiling face and logo of the Green Giant surrounded in vivid colour by pea pods and corn-on- the-cob. She offered Harry a hand that was clad in a beige golfer's glove.
It clicked, then, how he had come to know Mrs. Figg.
For the first time in weeks, a slow smile drew itself across Harry Potter's face.
He stood and took Mrs. Figg's outstretched hand.
"Oh, good," she said, breathlessly, "You're in a forgiving mood, I'm glad to see. Well," she took up Hedwig's cage and touched her free hand to Harry's shoulder, "Shall we be off?"
Harry shuffled along beside her, shoving the dolly carrying his baggage, and they walked off in the London evening towards Mrs. Figg's awaiting cab.
The train ride home from Hogwart's Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry had seemed especially long, giving Harry an unkind amount of time to reflect on his fourth year at the unusual school. He absently-mindedly rubbed the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead as he recalled the stressful experiences. Some people, he realized, were actually bent on killing him. As much as he thought about it, he still couldn't wrap his head around that concept. He had faced his own death so many times, and come out victorious and alive on each occasion, that he had begun to feel semi-invincible. Only, such a short time ago, his fragile mortality had been thrust in his face. A schoolmate had died; Cedric Diggory, the seeker for the Hufflepuff qudditch team was dead because of circumstances that neither he nor Harry had any control over. And Harry couldn't deal with it.
There were people out to kill him.
He ground his knuckles into his forehead and looked unseeingly out the window at the inappropriately fresh and sunny landscape.
His friends Ron and Hermione, along with Ron's little sister Ginny, watched him with concern. This brooding, sad teenager was nothing like the enigmatic boy that they were used to. They had given up trying to cheer him up early on in the train ride. Not even when Ron's older twin brothers popped in with loads of trick gear did he crack the slightest smile.
Hermione spoke quietly, "Ron, I'm worried. Should he spend the summer with us? I don't think that he could handle summer with his aunt and uncle."
It was well known that Harry disliked his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley - his only living relatives - almost as much as they disliked him. Each year, he came back with stories of mistreatment and, before his second year of school at Hogwart's, Ron and his brothers had had to go rescue him from the unloving clutches of the Dursleys.
"I dunno, Hermione," Ron muttered back, "I'm worried, too, and I know that my mum'd be sure to take him in, but." he gestured at Harry, "Do you even think that it'd do any good?"
Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. He could hear the conversations that his friends were having, but ignored them. He didn't have the strength to deal with other people. He barely had the strength to deal with himself.
They arrived at King's Cross station in the late afternoon. The sun sparkled off the rails and the trains. Harry shuffled towards where families were waiting for the Hogwart's students. Hermione gave Harry a quick hug and told him that, if he needed to talk to anyone at any time, he could give her a call. Then she dragged her gear to where her parents, the Dr.s Granger D.D.S. were waiting. They had been informed about the incidents at the Tri-Wizard Cup, as had all of the students' relatives, and hugged their daughter tightly. They waved at Harry, then walked over to their waiting car. Mrs. Weasley bustled quickly over to Harry from where the rest of the Weasleys were standing.
"Are you going to be alright, love?" she asked, ruffling Harry's already wild black hair maternally, "You're more than welcome to spend the summer with us."
He tried to smile at her, but the smile didn't make it to his mouth. "I'll be alright," he tried to assure her, "Thanks, though. I'll let you know if I need anything." Her eyes searched his. She knew that he needed to sort things out for himself. She'd raised five boys herself, after all.
"Alright, then," she decided. She caught him up in a hug that would have embarrassed any of her own children then let him go. "If you need anything, Harry," she told him. Harry nodded at her and watched her gather up her brood.
His vivid green eyes scanned the rest scene. Two sets of relatives were notably missing: The Diggorys were absent, because their son had been a victim of dark magic and wasn't on the train home. Also among the absent, though, were the Dursleys. They grumbled and moaned every time Harry came home from school, but were generally on time. Harry frowned and pushed the cart carrying all of his possessions in front of him as he looked for his hated family.
After nearly a half hour of searching, Harry's concern had grown more frantic. He sat down near the arrivals platform and put his forehead in his hands.
Where were they? What was he going to do?
The sky grew dusky and slightly overcast as Harry waited. Hedwig, his snowy owl, squawked indignantly in her cage.
"It's alright, girl," he told her soothingly. But, as the hour grew later, he wasn't so sure. With no plan, and no other choice, Harry Potter waited in King's Cross station, feeling very alone.
* * *
"Oh, I am so sorry!"
The woman's voice startled Harry awake. Waiting for someone to arrive, he had nodded off. He looked around for the voice's source. He found it in a smallish, familiar woman rushing towards him.
"Mrs. Figg?" he asked, astonished.
"Harry, you'll have to forgive me, I'm always so terrible with times. I simply forgot that today was the day you were to arrive. Well, let's get on with it, then." She said this in a flurry as she bustled up to him. Her manner of dress reminded him of the wizards and witches that he'd seen at the Quidditch Cup less than a year ago; her feet were stuffed into bright white basketball style trainers, her bottom half clad in blue-jean shorts paired with a ruffled yellow skirt, her top sported the smiling face and logo of the Green Giant surrounded in vivid colour by pea pods and corn-on- the-cob. She offered Harry a hand that was clad in a beige golfer's glove.
It clicked, then, how he had come to know Mrs. Figg.
For the first time in weeks, a slow smile drew itself across Harry Potter's face.
He stood and took Mrs. Figg's outstretched hand.
"Oh, good," she said, breathlessly, "You're in a forgiving mood, I'm glad to see. Well," she took up Hedwig's cage and touched her free hand to Harry's shoulder, "Shall we be off?"
Harry shuffled along beside her, shoving the dolly carrying his baggage, and they walked off in the London evening towards Mrs. Figg's awaiting cab.