The Choice
To say "It had been a horrid summer for one Harry Potter of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." is a massive understatement.
"BOY! Get down here! Dudley's hungry!"
Harry groaned. What a way to wake up. He knew he should be used to it by now, but it still wasn't pleasant.
"Just a minute Uncle Vernon."
"Boy, get down here NOW!"
Of course, the Dursleys hadn't paid heed to Moody's warning at the end of last school year. Harry hadn't written a letter to the Order in four days hoping they would come save him from his "relatives," but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of any Order members all week.
After quickly getting dressed, Harry hurried downstairs and started cooking Dudley's eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, pancakes, French toast, and skim milk. He was on a diet after all. After placing the food on the table, Harry excused himself back to his room. He crossed it to his calendar, crossing off the day before on his countdown. This year, he wasn't only counting the days 'till his return to Hogwarts, but also the days 'till his sixteenth birthday, when he would be of age and free to do magic legally.
"Only two weeks, Hedwig. Two weeks until I can legally do magic. Two more weeks of being pushed around by those wankers."
Her only response was a happy hoot.
That's when he noticed the letter on her leg from last time she went out flying.
Chapter 2
Last chapter:
"Only two weeks, Hedwig. Two weeks until I can legally do magic. Two more weeks of being pushed around by those wankers."
Her only response was a happy hoot.
That's when he noticed the letter on her leg from last time she went out flying.
"What's this?"
He took the letter from his owl, letting her back out to stretch her wings; Harry instantly recognized the small, neat script of his best friend, Hermione.
Dear Harry,
How are you? Listen, don't beat yourself up about Sirius. It wasn't your fault. I was out of line in the forest, saying you had a "saving people thing." He was one of the last links left you had to your parents, and you cared about him. If it had been me and my father, I would have done the same thing. But it wasn't your fault. If there is anyone to blame, it's Voldemort, for obvious reasons. Also Dumbledore, for not warning you that Voldemort might try that, and not training you to block the visions. We all miss him, but don't tear yourself up over it.
I've been missing you, too. I know it's only been a month, but I'm missing you more each day and I can't wait to see you, although I don't know when that is, since Dumbledore is still being a jackass. He says you have to stay at Privet Drive, but he's not giving reasons. Next time we see him, we really need to straighten him out.
Well, I hope the monsters are treating you okay, heeding Moody's advice. At least people know you were telling the truth about old Tom.
Have a good summer.
Love,
Hermione
P.S.
Hedwig is amazing! For the second time, I had to write you something but had no way of sending it, then suddenly, Hedwig started tapping on the glass of my window. Do you think she might be psychic?
At the beginning of her letter, Harry was touched that she would think of all that. The middle sent him into deep thought.
'She was speaking more like a girlfriend than a girl-friend,' he thought. 'Is she... No she wouldn't be interested in me, she's just concerned for her best friend.'
When he saw that Dumbledore was still acting that way, he nearly smashed his chair on the wall. He only stopped because he knew that if he did, he'd have nothing to sit on to do homework. He knew he couldn't get in trouble with the Dursleys at the moment for making a racket, it being a Sunday and they were at church, so he just started throwing Dudley's old things at the wall to express his anger.
After he was done with his little fit, feeling much calmer, he continued reading the letter. At the end, he started chuckling at her for her insinuations about Hedwig, but thought that she had a very valid point.
He instantly started to reply to Hermione, thoughts of pressing chores never entering his mind.
Dear Hermione,
Thank you for the support. I realized this myself after two solid weeks of grieving. I kept wondering "What if I never went? What if I learned Occlumency properly? What if? What if?" I found that I couldn't think like that. It just never helps. I now understand that although it is my fault to a small degree, it was Voldemort who started it all. If you go to Grimmauld Place and you hear I am coming, please get Kreacher out of there. I won't be responsible for my actions if I am in the same room as that monster.
I too am missing you all. But this can be cured by a little more correspondence, perhaps? If I can't see you in person, I'll settle for the next best thing, talking to you.
Other than that, I am fine, the muggles are treating me okay, better than last year, but still not what you'd call civil. Other than telling me to cook their meals and clean parts of the house, they are pretty much ignoring me. But how are you? Is your chest still hurting at all? Are you having any trouble breathing? If you are, please tell someone, if not Dumbledore at least Professor McGonnagal. You can borrow Hedwig for this purpose, if you need her.
Hedwig is a very intelligent owl. It would not surprise me one bit if she was psychic.
Yours truly,
Harry
Harry knew that the part about the Dursleys ignoring him was a lie, but he didn't want Hermione to worry. All he had to do now was wait for Hedwig to return so he could mail it. In the meantime, he had chores to do.
Later that evening, Harry retired to his room utterly exhausted from the workload his Aunt Petunia gave him. After lying down for a few minutes, he heard the flapping of familiar wings. Hedwig zoomed in the window to sit on her perch, followed slowly, and quite unsurely, by Errol, the Weasely family owl.
'Ah, Ron finally sent me some mail.' But then he thought, 'Why didn't he send pig?'
Chapter 3 "Well this is Unexpected"
Harry took the letter from the aging owl after helping it into his room to rest. When he looked at the letter, he was confused. That was not Ron's illegible scrawl, nor was it from any of the Weasleys. Looking closer, Harry knew that he had never seen this writing before, and it was barely more readable than Ron's.
Shrugging, Harry opened the envelope.
Wotcher Harry!
How are ya? Are the Muggles treating you okay? The Order noticed you haven't written in four days, so they asked me to check on you. I would like to come in person, but I'm on assignment guarding the Weasleys with Kingsley Shacklebolt. And as I have no owl of my own, I had to use Errol. Geez I hope he makes it. I think that if Molly sends you any more if those food hampers with him, the Weasleys might not have an owl either.'
Also, I thought that maybe we could become closer friends. I mean, we don't hardly know anything about each other. For example, did you know I'm only 20? I make myself look older because people just don't respect 20 year olds. I graduated Hogwarts only two years ago and finished auror training a year early because of my talent. As a metamorphmagus, I didn't need to work very hard on following people. Also, believe it or not, even as clumsy as I am, I am a whiz at potions. So with the two most difficult things out of my way, I skipped a year of training.
Well, enough about me. So really, other than you defeated you-know-who numerous times, and that you are four years younger than me, I don't know anything about you. Please tell me about the real Harry Potter when you reply.
Yours,
Tonks
After dealing with the shock of Tonks sending him a letter, Harry was very happy, as he too wanted to become better friends with her. He liked the fact that she didn't treat him like expensive china that would easily break. She didn't go on and on about Sirius and it not being his fault, although he did want to ask her some things from her childhood about him. After all, her mother was his favorite cousin.
He also laughed at the comment about the food hampers, but in spite of his laughter, he was immensely grateful to Mrs. Weasley for sending them. Every three days, she would send a large basket of food with the normal charms on it (warming, preservative, shrinking, to fit more in the basket, etcetera). The only reason Harry immediately thought it was a letter from Ron was because the food wasn't due for two more days. This plethora of food she was sending was the only thing standing between him and starvation this year.
Dear Tonks,
To tell the truth, the Dursleys are completely disregarding Moody's warning. They are making me cook for them, making me do manual labor, and not giving me any food. I don't care about the cooking because I'm thinking it could help me with potions, maybe. The manual labor isn't that hard, and not to mention I'm finally getting some muscle, so this combined with normal growth spurts mean that I'm no longer the short, skinny Harry you saw on the platform. No, I am now a Harry who is 5'8 and has a decent build. Not that it's much better. But I digress; I don't even mind that they don't feed me. Mrs. Weasley is more than taking care of that. What I can't stand for is that they flatly refuse to let me use my magical equipment, such as books, quills, parchment, and potions supplies. Please notice that I am NOT writing on parchment with a quill. I am writing on muggle computer paper with a ball point pen; both of which I nicked from my cousin. If you could, could you please send someone? Preferably Remus, Moody, or even Gred and Forge? If I can't even study, how can I keep up with the other six-years, let alone be able to teach the DA or fight Voldemort?
You asked to get to know me better, and I agree; it would be nice to get to know people I'm going to be around for long periods of time better. What would you like to know about me? Friends? Hobbies? Past? Plans for the future?
Also, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Sirius. From what I understand, you were distantly related to him. Do you have any good memories you'd like to share?
Tell me more about yourself. That's rather strange about the training, but that's nice to know that you're only four years older than me. I truly thought you were in your thirties or something. Maybe you could show me a few auror tricks this summer or possibly tutor me in potions. I am absolutely hopeless at it myself. But it might just be Snape's presence having a negative effect on my work. It's really hard to brew a shrinking solution with Snape heckling you!
Have a Good summer,
Harry
Dear Mr. Weasley,
How are you and the rest of the bunch? Please thank your wonderful wife for the food for me. It is literally keeping me alive. Also, if you see Malfalda Hopkirk at work, please tell her that I say "Thank you for having your head on straight and letting me be of age a year early to train for fighting Voldemort."
Thanks!
Harry
Chapter 4
What The …?
After he finished writing, Harry sat back, reading over the final product. He sat there for a moment, going over the letters, correcting any small mistakes, especially in the one to Tonks. Somehow, he had managed to convince her he was a mature adult, and he didn't want to jeopardize that with a childishly written letter.
When he was satisfied that it sounded mature, he called Hedwig over to mail the letters. If it had been any other owl, he would have sent them back with the delivery owl, but it was Errol. He didn't need to carry letters back to the Burrow. Once Errol was steady enough to fly, he sent them off, watching their beautiful forms until they disappeared into a pink and orange horizon.
The next morning, Harry thought it was really quiet, and he felt strangely well rested. After a moment, he realized that he had woken up on his own, without Vernon raising the roof with yelling.
'It must be really early.' He slowly looked at his watch.
'It's only…'
"ELEVEN THIRTY!"
He bolted out of bed, threw on some clothes, and thundered down the stairs, worrying that Vernon would kick the crap out of him for this.
When he saw who was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, stock still in amazement and surprise.
He sat there, threateningly tossing his wand up and catching it, glaring so hard at Vernon Dursley that Petunia was beginning to worry that he might burn a hole through her husband.
"Fred!"
At this disbelieving exclamation, Fred Weasley jerked his head around and grinned.
"Harry, how are ya, mate?"
"I'm fine, now that someone who's not trying to kill me is here. Where's George?"
"In here," came the call from the kitchen, "we were hungry, so we decided to eat while we wait for you."
"This fat slob," started Fred,
"wanted to wake," George interjected
"you up, but we said."
"you probably need all,"
"the rest you could get." Fred finished.
"I… I…" stammered Harry. He never thought Tonks would actually send them! He was only joking!
"You don't need to say anything. We've become decent legilimens and these three are definitely NOT Snivellus."
"We know you have an extra room, so I'll be staying there until your birthday, at which time, you will be transported to Headquarters." Fred stated.
"Quite a birthday present huh?"