Shrugging, he folded the last set of his dress robes and gently placed them in his trunk. The warm summer breeze blew through the window and Hedwig flew in, a note attached to her left leg. She hooted softly at Harry, gently nudging his shoulder to tell him she brought something back for him. Harry turned around and stroked Hedwig's soft head, and she stuck out her leg so he could remove the message. He did so, and unfolded the thin, creased piece of parchment. In Dumbledore's familiar spidery writing, it read:
Dear Mr. Potter:
I hope your summer holidays are going well. I apologize for disturbing you, but we have an urgent need for you at Hogwarts. I cannot go into detail right now, for fear of interception of this letter. We will expect you at Hogwarts on 17 August 2002, rather than the usual 31 August, if you decide to come.
Thank you, and we hope to see you soon.
Signed,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry frowned. 17 August was...tomorrow! He realized, an uncomfortable feeling rising in his belly. He was supposed to go to the Burrow in three days! 'Well,' he resigned himself, 'I suppose there's nothing I can do but go. If I am needed, I am needed, and I will go.' He was glad he'd begun his packing tonight. He would have to mention the change in plans to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but he would only say that he was leaving for Ron's early. He grimaced and closed the lid of his trunk, being sure not to lock it. He stretched out on his concrete-solid bed, arms behind his head, and stared out at the brightly shining stars through his open window. Tonight his wish differed from that of other nights. Tonight it was a matter of the heart.
Harry had always loved a single girl in his house. Ever since he met her his first year, he had harbored a secret crush on her. Tonight, his wish centered upon her. He wished against wish, hoped against hope, that this would be the year that she realized that he existed as more than just The Boy Who Lived and an outstanding Quidditch player. Ever since their first year, he had seen her as more than her outward appearance: a bookish, seemingly anti-social girl who spent all of her free time either with her nose buried in a book or probing the depths of the extensive library. Cho, he knew, had only been a temporary diversion while this beautiful-in-every-way girl had been with an undeserving man. Now that she had seen that this man was only interested in the physical aspect of a relationship, she was ready to start anew with someone else, he expected and hoped. She, however, seemed to only have eyes for another boy. She spent more time with this boy alone than she spent together with Harry and Ron combined. However, it was little more than her personal preference, but he couldn't help his most intimate hopes and dreams, could he? He sighed and resigned himself to a dreamless sleep.
~*~
He woke up to a cloudy morning. He frowned and quickly rose and dressed. He made his bed, packed his pajamas, and tromped down the stairs with his trunk. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dim bulb Dudley were sitting around the small kitchen table glaring at him.
"Where have you been, boy?" Vernon roared, the large vein in his enormous forehead bulging.
"Sorry, Uncle Vernon," Harry mumbled, wishing he had the courage to stand up to his family.
"Get to work! I'm starving!"
Harry turned the stove on full heat and began frying the bacon. He popped four pieces of bread in the toaster: one for his aunt, one for his uncle, and two for Dudley. He turned on another burner and cracked six eggs into a pan for scrambled eggs. He half-heartedly prepared and served their breakfast, and then returned to cook himself something small. He returned to the table momentarily with a bowl of oatmeal and a fresh squeezed glass of orange juice. He lifted his spoon to his mouth before he remembered that he had to leave today.
"Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked boldly.
"What, you little runt?" Vernon grumbled through a mouthful of bacon.
Harry mustered all of his courage and said, "I'm leaving for Ron's early. Meaning today. You need to take me to King's Cross after breakfast." He knew they would comply. He could threaten to do anything magical and they would do anything for him.
"We could have used a little notice, Harry," Petunia said in her sharp, nasal voice.
"I just found out last night," Harry retorted, struggling to keep sarcasm out of his voice. "And if you don't want anything strange to happen, I recommend you take me." This always worked. He knew they were ashamed of him, and anything, really, that he did could make Vernon lose his job or Petunia her social circle. Not that Harry cared; he just liked to hold it over their heads.
"Okay, okay, we'll take you," Vernon said hurriedly. "Put your things in the boot and we'll be off in 20 minutes."
Harry smiled inwardly. He quickly ate his oatmeal, washed his bowl, and trekked upstairs. He brushed his teeth and gave his room a quick glance, thankful he wouldn't be seeing it until next summer. Checking the shelves and drawers to see if he'd packed everything, he noticed that his photo album Hagrid had given him of his parents was missing. It always sat on his night table so he could look at it before he went to sleep, and it was absent from the place it normally occupied next to his snake lamp. His eyes widened and he knew he had to find it within five minutes or Uncle Vernon would leave without him. He began frantically searching his room when he heard a cough behind him. He whirled around and there stood Dudley, his huge frame filling up the entire doorway. Dudley's eyes reflected the pleasure he obviously felt at throwing Harry into a panic.
"Are you looking for this, squirt?" Dudley asked with a sense of accomplishment, holding up the photo album.
"Give that here!" Harry ordered. He reached into the pocket of his baggy pants, another of Dudley's hand-me-downs, and felt for his wand. His fingers closed around the smooth wood and he pulled it out and pointed it at Dudley. "You don't want me to use this! Remember when you were turned into a pig?" he asked crossly, expecting Dudley to hand over the album. He did not. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Harry began muttering nonsense words, narrowing his eyes and tightening his muscles to make Dudley believe that he was actually being hexed.
Dudley's eyes widened and he dropped the album on the floor before wedging himself out of the tiny doorway and clomping down the stairs. Harry replaced his wand, picked up the album, and smiled a small smile to himself. Another day, another battle won. He ran down the stairs to place the album in the trunk and the trunk in the boot. He saw Uncle Vernon at the foot of the stairs, tapping his shoe loudly and making a show of looking at his watch.
"It's about time you showed up," he grumbled.
"If your ungrateful brat of a son hadn't stolen my photo album, I would have been down sooner," Harry shot back, unable to control himself. He regretted the words, expecting the worst. He expected to be locked again in his old closet and not be allowed to go to "Ron's." Instead, Uncle Vernon just gritted his teeth and motioned for Harry to follow him out the door.
During the ride to King's Cross, Vernon listened to talk radio. He would nod vehemently at times, and at others he would glare at the radio in obvious disagreement. Harry had to bite his lip to stifle his laughter at his uncle's theatrics. He was, for twenty more minutes, at his uncle's mercy. He didn't want anything else to go wrong. He sat quietly, crossing and uncrossing his feet, staring out the window at the shops in London. None of them looked even remotely similar to those of Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Harry frowned; he couldn't see himself living in the Muggle world forever, but somehow he had a sinking feeling that he might.
"Wake up, runt!" Vernon shouted at him. "We're here!"
Harry snapped to attention, his eyes ablaze with happiness. The station bustled with people hurrying to catch their commuter trains.
"Get a move on, kid! Get your junk out of the boot and go!" Vernon barked, waving a pudgy hand in his direction. Harry wasted no time in hurrying out of the small car, removing his trunk and waving a hasty goodbye to his uncle. He hustled to Platform 9 ¾ and, holding his trunk tightly, ran through the brick column. He landed on the other side, and upon finding that it was deserted, boarded the train by himself. There was no Hermione or Ron or even the comfortingly hairy face of Hagrid to welcome him. Harry sighed and knew he had to owl the Weasleys to tell them that he would be unable to stay at the Burrow this summer; however, he had a feeling that they already knew, since Arthur worked for the Ministry of Magic. He set Hedwig's cage down beside him and removed the cover so he could talk to her.
"Hedwig," he started, and then stopped. 'I feel like a fool,' he thought, irritated. 'Who am I to talk to an owl? She won't understand me!'
Hedwig cooed at him softly, knowing something was wrong. Something was bothering Harry, and she tried to comfort him by nudging him through the bars of her cage.
"You want out, don't you, girl?" Harry asked gently. "Promise to stay here?" She cooed again, signaling an affirmative response, and Harry unlocked the door. Hedwig gingerly climbed out and settled herself next to Harry, her head nestled in his arm.
"Oh, Hedwig, if only she would love me the way you do," he lamented to no one in particular. "It's just…she's so smart, pretty, and funny, and I'm nothing. I'm just plain old Harold James Potter. I'm nothing special. Sure, I am the Boy Who Lived, and I have the scar to prove it, but what does that matter? She will never notice me. She will never feel for me like she does for Ron. And why should she? Ron is much more charismatic than I; he more adventurous and daring as well." He sighed, knowing this argument with himself all too well. He'd fought this battle millions of times, it seemed, and he always arrived at the same conclusion: he was lonely. Unfathomably lonely, and had been so for what seemed like forever. Living with the Dursleys had been a lonely hell, living at first in the dank, arachnid infested closet, and then in his small room, his private melancholy haven. No one knew. No one knew he'd been upset or felt lonely. He cursed people for not noticing that he'd been different over the last year, but mostly he cursed himself for being so weak. He cursed himself for not telling anyone what was wrong, and for not telling her his true feelings for her. He snorted at what she would say.
'Harry, I'm sorry, but I could never love you the way you want me to. I'm in love with... someone else.
He shook himself out of his depressing reverie and noticed that the train was reaching Hogwarts Station. He brightened a bit at the prospect of returning to school, to Gryffindor, and most of all, eventually, to her.
"Last stop, Hogwarts Station! Everybody off!" the conductor called, even though Harry was the only passenger. He nudged Hedwig, who looked angry at being woken up, but she returned to her cage without a struggle. Harry gathered his things and exited the train, looking for a boat to take him to the school. He looked around the station and saw it was devoid of boats. He was perplexed. How was he to reach the school if the boats were all at the other side? He set his trunk down, feeling defeated.
Suddenly he felt a large hand clap him on the shoulder.
"Harry, m'boy!" came the cheerful voice of Hagrid.
"Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, whirling around to hug the half-man, half-giant who had helped him in immeasurable ways in Harry's past few years at Hogwarts.
"Yer back 'ere now, are ye?" Hagrid asked, looking at Harry's luggage.
"Yes, yes I am. Dumbledore owled me and said you needed my help, so here I am," Harry answered lamely.
"Well, let's gerron, then!" Hagrid replied merrily, taking Harry's enormous trunk.
Harry walked beside him silently, wishing he could be at the Burrow instead of at Hogwarts so early. He swung his arms at his sides, saying nothing to Hagrid. He tuned everything Hagrid said out, pondering why he'd been called to Hogwarts. Hagrid led him to a pier anchored with rowboats that he hadn't seen when he stepped off the train. He absentmindedly stepped into a rickety old rowboat and sat down in a puddle of cold water. He shivered, in spite of the scorching August sun beating down on him. His mind took him hundreds of kilometers away, losing himself in his deepest thoughts and desires. His desire, no, his need, for love and belonging, need for companionship, and most importantly, his need for safety. Being called to Hogwarts and being asked for his help all the time compromised his comfort and safety, not to mention that his friendships and grades suffered. He sighed, unaware that Hagrid was staring at him.
"'arry? Are ye doin' alright over there?" Hagrid asked, jarring Harry from his dreamlike state.
"What? What did you say, Hagrid?" Harry said, forcing cheer into his voice.
"Are ye okay?" he repeated.
"Um...yeah..." Harry returned, unsure.
Hagrid pondered this for a moment, and then asked timidly, "Are ye sure?"
"Well, yeah, of course I'm sure, of course I'm doing alright," he said slowly, thinking over each word that left his mouth. "Why wouldn't I be?" His tone was daring Hagrid to counter him, to show his disbelief that he was doing fine.
This question left Hagrid stumped. "Well...well, 'arry, I dunno 'bout that. Ye jes' wasn't talkin'."
They sat in silence the remainder of the way to Hogwarts, Hagrid rowing, Harry watching in stony silence. Momentarily they arrived. Hagrid took Harry's trunk and carried it up the many steep steps to the castle, where he left Harry and continued to Gryffindor.
Left alone, Harry was not certain of what he was expected to do. Was he to wait for Dumbledore or McGonagall to meet him, or did they want for him to follow Hagrid to his dormitory? He looked upward and sighed.
"I trust your holidays went well, Mr. Potter," said the smiling voice of Professor Dumbledore.
"Oh...wonderful, thank you, Professor," Harry stammered, lowering his eyes to look at Dumbledore. "And yours?"
"Busy as always, terrifically busy," Dumbledore replied, his icy blue eyes twinkling. "But that is not what we brought you here to discuss." Here his manner changed dramatically from amused to grave. "This is no light matter, Mr. Potter, and I do not expect you to treat it as such. Please, follow me to my office, where we will be discussing the matter at hand with Professors McGonagall and Snape." With this, he turned, his dark blue robes swirling behind him.
Harry looked after him with dismay. Professor Snape? Surely he couldn't be serious! Harry groaned inwardly and reluctantly followed Dumbledore, not so anxiously awaiting the scene he was sure would be waiting for him in the office.
~*~
A/N: This has just been updated, June 10 2002... thanks to my WONDERFUL beta Heather! Thank you so much! Now, chapter two ought to be up within the next few days, so keep the anticipation up! And ROTP is nearly finished, for those of you who follow it. I hope you've enjoyed following that one; it's been a pleasure to write. Have a wonderful day and we will be presenting chapter two to you very soon! *~*Lauren*~*