LISTEN UP!!! I do NOT, sadly, own any of the Harry Potter characters, nor do I own any Quidditch teams or any broomsticks or cauldrons or magic robes or owls or flying motorcycles. I am not getting paid for this; I write these stories to occupy my time and give others something to distract them from work. J. K. Rowling would probably cry if she ever read any of this, so please, shhhhh, don't tell her. I promise to put them back just the way I found them!
This is for Lunadeath-I know I promised it a while ago, hun, but you know how these things go...anyway, here's part one! Enjoy, and I'll get more done at some point, don't lose hope!!!
Title: Something
Author: Moonbyrd
Rating: None, yet. PG-13, just to be safe.
Spoilers: If you haven't read the books, WHY ARE YOU READING THIS?!
This is SLASH, people. That means boy-boy romanticism. Don't like it? Go elsewhere. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Four owls had arrived during the night. One was Hedwig; she had returned from deliviring a letter to Sirius, carrying in its stead a small package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Another was Pigwidgeon; the tiny card carrying owl was actually what had startled Harry from his rest. The third owl was a beautiful, regal fellow with feathers of a warm brown color that had evidently been sent by Hermione. The fourth was one of the school owls and had come bearing the annual list of supplies.
"Shut /i, Pig," Harry muttered, trying to hold the exuberant owl's beak closed. "Here, have some toffee." With Pigwidgeon taken care of, he relieved the school owl of its envelope and tossed the letter on his bed for later examination. The school owl clucked once at the happily preoccupied Pig and took off through Harry's open window. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and perched sleepily by the brown owl on the headboard of Harry's bed. Harry reached out to stroke her head while he tried to open the card from Ron with one hand. After a rather interesting process, he succeeded and began to read.
iHarry,
Just thought we'd let you know that Ron may have a little trouble trying to get his gift to you on time. Fred and I asked Pig very nicely if he'd do us this favor just once, so as soon as the little idiot's beak is unstuck (we KNOW you had to have given him something to make him shut up by now), be a dear and shove him out the window, please.
And now on to the real purpose of writing you this nice little note!
We succeeded (with no small amount of difficulty, may I add) in advertising some of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! For your birthday, and we wish you a very happy one indeed, please find enclosed...duhm duhm DUHM...your gift! Enjoy it, Harry! Since Fred and I are no longer going to be around, we expect you and Ron to take over for us as Gryffindor's resident sources of terror. Use things wisely!
Come visit us at the Burrow any time, Harry. Mum would love to see you. Ginny would, too. See you around sometime!
La!
-George/i
"Oh dear," Harry muttered, blinking. "I'm almost afraid to ask." He flipped the card closed and peered at the back. The words "Tap me!" could be read in flashing ink in the center of the card. Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, steeled his nerves and poked the writing with a finger. When nothing exploded, he dared a glance at the card again. A slot had appeared where the writing had been and small slips of paper were fluttering from it to fall on Harry's lap. The astounded boy picked one up and read, "GIFT CERTIFICATE: A Special Someone has felt Kind enough to present you with this Valuable Item. Redeemable at Honeyduke's locations all Across England. Value: Five Assorted items from any 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Selection!"
Pigwidgeon squawked. Rolling his eyes, the amused boy pointed at the still open window and moved onto Hermione's gift. First came the letter:
iDear Harry,
Happy Birthday!
Meet Chaucer, my new owl. Well, actually, he's the family owl, but since I'm the only witch I consider him mine.i/
Harry looked up at the two owls resting on his headboard. "Chaucer, hm?" Hedwig shuffled a bit closer to the large owl and ruffled her feathers again. Chuckling, Harry returned to the letter.
iHe and Hedwig seem to get along very well. This could be the beginning of a good friendship. Or something.
Anyway, here's a clipping from the Daily Prophet that I thought you might like. It certainly knocked me out of reality for a moment or two. You'll never believe it, but I think you may have found an unlikely new ally.
Have a fantastic time during the rest of the summer! Or, as much of one as you can. If things get too desperate, I think I heard Ron mention something about Fred and George tapping into the Floo system a while back. Here's some powder, just in case.
I'll see you in Diagon Alley, I'm sure!
Love,
Hermione/i
The clipping was indeed a surprise. "CORRUPTION AT THE MINISTRY, by Rita Skeeter." Almost dismayed, Harry read softly aloud, "It has come to the attention of this dedicated news witch that the Minister of Magic has committed a grievous offense against a defenseless being. One Siruis Black, the supposed traitor and murderer, was held in Azkaban without trial for thirteen years before his escape, three years ago today. Witches and wizards, allow me, Rita Skeeter, to set the record straight; SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT."
"WHAT?!" Harry shouted. He instantly clapped a hand over his mouth and watched the door warily, but when Vernon Dursely failed to crash into the room after a few moments, he took another breath and returned his attention to the article.
"It has come to the attention of this hard working woman of truth that the poor creature known as Sirius Black is truly innocent of any Death Eater activity. With apologies to the family of one Peter Pettigrew, allow me to explain; Black, seen at right, was NOT the Secret Keeper for the unfortunate Lily and James Potter on the night of You-Know-Who's demise. He had felt himself unworthy of this task, and asked the Potters earlier that week to transfer the responsibility to another of the Potters' close friends; Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was an unregistered Animagus who took the shape (fittingly) of a rat. Friends, allow me to describe to you the horrors unleashed upon Sirius Black after the transfer...."
And so on. Harry read, entranced, the entire story of Peter's betrayal. With wide eyes, he glanced at the photograph. A cheerful, much younger Sirius waved back at him from a broomstick. The grin on the youthful face was unstrained, the brotherly arm slung around the shoulders of an equally enthusiastic...James Potter...was waving the pther boy's left arm exuberantly. "iThe innocent Sirius Black and the unfortunate James Potter after winning a game of Quidditch for Gryffindor House in their Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Black was a Prefect and served as the team's Keeper/i," read the caption.
Harry blinked at the picture, wishing he dared go downstairs for scissors to add the photo to his album. He felt himself smiling as the young Sirius Black began making faces. Shaking his head, he returned to reading aloud, focusing on the final paragraph of the article. "Due to the unjustifiable actions of one Cornelius Fudge, this poor, innocent man has been denied a life of love and promise. What is more, the refusal of the Minister of Magic to allow a trial for Black has forced one of the wizarding world's finest to live in deplorable conditions. The young mister Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter who defeated You-Know-Who sixteen years ago, when just an infant, has been living with Muggles of the worst kind; magic haters. Witches and wizards, please assist this determined reporter in her efforts to clear Sirius Black's name so that young Harry may live with his loving godfather as a member of the magical world, just as his parents would have wished. Humbly outraged, Rita Skeeter."
"Incredible," Harry murmured and shook his head. Hedwig hooted softly as he put the clipping down and lifted the brown package she had brought him. "Dare I?" Harry asked her, amused when she shook her head. He carefully untied the string and peeled away the paper to reveal a shirt. Raising an eyebrow, he lifted the shirt and unfolded it. There was a snitch on the left sleeve and the back read, "Call me the Boy Who Lived and Die" in flashing colors. Laughing, Harry put the shirt down and picked up the letter that had been tucked under it. The handwriting did not belong to Sirius.
iDear Harry,/i it began,
iHappy Birthday!
The current misson is going well, which was really only to be expected. It is merely a treasure hunt of sorts, in any case, although I am hesitant to call Death Eaters 'treasure.' With luck, we'll be back in Hogsmeade before the end of the summer, so we'll write to you once we're there.
The shirt was Sirius' idea, in case you're wondering. I won't describe to you the strange looks we received when we added the "and Die" to the order but rest assured that they were very odd indeed.
Your real gift will be waiting for you at Hogwarts in Hagrid's care. Since we don't want you to burst from curiosity, here's a hint; think Quidditch.
By the way, Sirius says that the answer to your question is, "Yes, thank you very much, and keep your nose to yourself." I'm afraid to ask, so I'll leave you two to your secrets.
See you in a month or two.
Love,
Remus and Sirius/i
Harry sniggered and put the letter aside. The only thing left in the package was a bag of cookies which Harry happily munched on as he contemplated the chances of the Dursley's fireplace being currently in the Floo network. Deciding that chances were not really all that great, Harry piled his new belongings on the floor and settled into bed. He fell asleep to the sounds of rustling feathers with a smile on his face.
***
"Boy!"
With a start Harry tumbled out of bed, landing on his elbow. "Ouch," he winced, and rubbed the wounded limb as he tottered to his feet. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"
"We're going into town. Dudders needs some new school things. You're to weed the garden and mop the floors. I expect the house to be spotless when we get back."
Harry opened his door to find his aunt tapping her toe, arms crossed over her thin chest. "You mean you're leaving me here alone?"
Petunia sniffed. "Don't burn my house down."
"I...won't, Aunt Petunia," Harry promised, amazed. "I won't even smudge the windows."
Petunia sniffed again, rolled her eyes, whirled on her heel, and marched away. "Vernon! Let's go. Dudders, go get in the..."
A very surprised Harry stood in the hallway in his nightclothes watching her departing back. "Huh," he said. Hedwig hooted sleepily but encouragingly at him. Harry shook his head at her and wandered over to his window to watch the Dursleys pile into the car and drive off. "Amazing," he told Hedwig and the still-present Chaucer. "Simply amazing."
It was with high spirits that Harry trotted down the steps later that morning, after waking a second time. Humming, he cooked himself breakfast and read the newspaper, a feat he had nevner had the opportunity to complete. He whistled as he washed the dishes, danced with the mop, and literally skipped outside to weed the garden. After the chores were complete, Harry treated himself to a long bath and a rereading of iQuidditch Through the Ages/i.
The phone rang as Harry was dressing. Mumbling a curse, put his shirt down and zipped down the hall to answer the obnoxious appliance. "Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Ron?"
"Harry!"
"You're using a phone!"
"Am I doing it right?" Ron increased his volume. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
"Ron!" Harry bellowed. "You don't have to shout."
"Oh, sorry. Right, then. Happy birthday, Harry."
A grin spread across Harry's face. "Thanks, Ron."
"Ah, sorry you didn't get a present last night," Ron coughed. "Fred and George kidnapped Pig. He'll be on his way again soon, I promise."
"No rush," Harry plopped to the floor, still grinning. "Nobody's here at the moment."
"Really? How'd you manage that?"
Harry's grin widened. "No idea. They just decided to go shopping and didn't even try to pawn me off on the cat lady."
Ron chuckled. "Wow, Harry. You could have a party."
"Ron, that's not such a bad idea," Harry mused.
"No! Forget I said anything! They'll kill you, Harry."
Harry laughed. "Nah. Although it would be great if you could drop by for a visit."
"Yeah, it would. Or if you wanted to, you could sneak out and come stay here. Mum's been missing you, you know. 'Oh, I just feel so bad for poor Harry'," Ron mocked, " 'having to spend his summer with those dreadful Muggles. He should come live with us, poor thing. Imagine, magic haters! The nerve of Professor Dumbledore, making him live like that.' It continues, Harry. For about three hours. It's quite the show."
"Does she mean it?" Harry asked, barely daring to hope.
"Of course! You should know by now that she's always trying to get you to stay with us."
"Wow," Harry blinked. "I feel special." Ron snorted. Harry laughed again, then offered, "Well, I doubt the Dursley's would miss me much...."
"MUM!" Ron yelped. "Let's go get Harry!"
"Is he in trouble with those wretched people? Oh, I'll just kill them if he's hurt," Harry heard before Ron, choking on his laughter, stopped her.
"No, Mum, he's fine. But the Muggles aren't there now, so it would be the perfect time to go snatch him."
Mrs. Weasley took the phone from her son. "Harry?"
"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley," Harry bit back a chuckle. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Harry. How are /i?"
"Better than ever, Mrs. Weasley."
"Would you like to come visit, dear?" In the background, Harry could hear Ron whoop.
"I would love to."
"Excellent. Ronald, go tell your father to get the Floo Powder. And see if Fred and George are around somewhere. Harry, we'll be there in a short while, all right?"
"That's fantastic, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much," Harry was feeling slightly overwhelmed.
Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Not all at, Harry, dear. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley, and thanks again!" Harry stared at the phone for a minute after hanging up. Then, with a shout, he leapt up and ran up to his room. He packed feverishly, tossing his books and robes together, and snickered when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror while searching for his toothbrush. "Silly boy," he wrinkled his nose at his reflection, "you forgot your shirt!" Toothbrush located, he dashed back to his room and tossed on his new shirt.
Harry sent Hedwig and Chaucer out the window and headed downstairs to write the Dursleys a note explaining the situation. Whistling, he waited jubilantly by the fireplace for the Weasley clan to arrive.
With a rush of wind, Ron tumbled onto the hearth. Harry tackled the redhead as he tried to sit up, eliciting a shriek of laughter from Ron. "Geronimo," called one of the twins before jumping on Harry, and the other whooped before bowling into the pile.
"Oh my," Arthur Weasley said, finding his sons wrestling with their friend. He waded in carefully and began extracting boys one by one. "Don't kill him, George, who would help you invent things? Fred, stop choking Ron. Hello, Harry."
Harry grinned. "Hullo, Mr. Weasley."
"All ready to go?"
"You bet," Harry replied, waving at the pile behind him. "And I wrote the Dursleys a note. They'll be glad to be rid of me."
Ron snorted as he greeted Hedwig. "They'd be happier if they never had to see you again, Harry. Ah, nice shirt."
George and Fred grabbed the trunk. "We'd be happier if Harry never had to see them again," they chorused, wrinkling their noses at the same time.
Harry blinked. "So would I," he muttered fervently. "So would I."
Clearing his throat, Mr. Weasley directed Fred and George to return with the trunk. Once the duo had vanished, he turned to Harry. "You're certain there isn't anything you've forgotten?"
The wistful note in Mr. Weasley's voice made Harry choke back a chuckle. "We can double check. Let me show you the house." The trio spent the better part of an hour examing the Dursley residence, an hour puncuated by exlamations of, "Microwhatsis?" and "How absolutely fascinating."
Eventually, George showed up again. He found them in Dudley's bedroom, where Ron and his father were attempting to make Dudley's computer start up. Harry was collapsed on the bed, shaking with repressed mirth. "I hate to intrude," George shook his head, "but Mum wants to know if you're planning on coming home for dinner. Tomorrow."
"Oh dear," Arthur Weasley sighed. "I lost track of time. Well boys, we'd better go. Grab Hedwig's cage, Harry."
Harry smiled as he stepped into the rekindled fire and waved goodbye to the whirling living room. A moment later, he was engulfed in a hug by Mrs. Weasley's strong arms. "Welcome back to the Burrow, Harry, dear."
Harry hugged back. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he crowed happily.
She waved him away. "Call me Molly," she advised him, and greeted her husband.
"I've redecorated," Ron told Harry. "Come up and see!"
The two boys left the rest of the Weasleys in the kitchen to prepare dinner and headed up to Ron's room. Ron made Harry close his eyes before entering the remodeled room, and closed the door behind them. "Go on, then." With no small amount of trepidation, Harry pushed the door open to reveal...a room no longer decked out in blazing orange. Instead of the previous obsession with the Chuddley Cannons, Ron seemed to have developed a fascination with Puddlemere United.
"Wow," Harry said. "When...when did this happen?"
Ron grinned as he threw himself on the bed, where he did not clash with the new blue comforter. "Who knew Percy was so close with Oliver Wood? I mean, sure, they were in the same year, but we never expected him to send us all of this."
Harry laughed as the team members made faces at him from a poster. "Is he officially playing now?"
"The usual Keeper broke his arm eight games in a row," Ron informed him. "The team manager felt he was a liability, since every time he broke his arm, the other team scored. Wood moved up immediately."
"Excellent," Harry breathed, entranced by the poster that showed Oliver half-smiling shyly and blushing. "Why does he look so embarrassed?"
Ron wrinkled his nose. "Oh, he's had women fawning all over him since he got promoted. The photographer was a girl, I believe, and had just said something a little...forward. Percy couldn't stop laughing about it for days. Actually, speaking of Percy-"
A crash from downstairs interrupted him. Laughter echoed up the stairs; evidently two people had just enjoyed a rather interesting story.
"What on earth," Ron muttered as the boys tramped down to the first floor again. "Ack. I might've guessed."
Percy Weasley was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, still chortling and holding his stomach. From his tangled sprawl on the floor, trapped in a pile of Quidditch pads and a broomstick, Oliver Wood glared up at him. "I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault! If those stupid girls would just go /i," Oliver cried, trying to extract himself from the mess. He wasn't having much success.
"You do lead them on, you know," Percy choked down another chuckle and helped Oliver stand. "The way you blush every time one of them screams at you-"
"WHAT IS GOING ON?" Molly Weasley stormed into the room, hands on hips. "I'm trying to make DINNER, and...why, hello, Oliver. Will you be joining us tonight?"
Oliver bobbed his head and smiled sheepishly. "If you don't mind, Mrs. Weasley. I'm a bit afraid to try a restaurant tonight, and I know better than to taste my own cooking."
Molly readily agreed. "I take it you won the game?"
Percy grinned. "They did, indeed. 370-60. Oliver was brilliant; he saved no less than twenty-nine goal shots. You're blushing again, Ol."
"Bugger," Oliver muttered, and looked around for an escape route. His eyes lighted on Harry and Ron, who were standing bemused at the foot of the stairs. "HARRY!" Oliver crowed. He leaped across the room and swept Harry into a bear hug. "Haven't seen you in ages, old fellow. How goes the old team?"
"Can't...breathe..."
"Oh, sorry."
Harry blinked. "Not a problem," he assured Oliver, rubbing his side.
"Boys! Dinner!"
Ron shrugged at Harry. "Best not keep her waiting. She still thinks you're too skinny, you know."
Harry made a face but, as he trailed behind the still snickering Percy and the self-righteous Oliver, he couldn't help but think how wonderful the rest of his summer would be.
This is for Lunadeath-I know I promised it a while ago, hun, but you know how these things go...anyway, here's part one! Enjoy, and I'll get more done at some point, don't lose hope!!!
Title: Something
Author: Moonbyrd
Rating: None, yet. PG-13, just to be safe.
Spoilers: If you haven't read the books, WHY ARE YOU READING THIS?!
This is SLASH, people. That means boy-boy romanticism. Don't like it? Go elsewhere. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Four owls had arrived during the night. One was Hedwig; she had returned from deliviring a letter to Sirius, carrying in its stead a small package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Another was Pigwidgeon; the tiny card carrying owl was actually what had startled Harry from his rest. The third owl was a beautiful, regal fellow with feathers of a warm brown color that had evidently been sent by Hermione. The fourth was one of the school owls and had come bearing the annual list of supplies.
"Shut /i, Pig," Harry muttered, trying to hold the exuberant owl's beak closed. "Here, have some toffee." With Pigwidgeon taken care of, he relieved the school owl of its envelope and tossed the letter on his bed for later examination. The school owl clucked once at the happily preoccupied Pig and took off through Harry's open window. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and perched sleepily by the brown owl on the headboard of Harry's bed. Harry reached out to stroke her head while he tried to open the card from Ron with one hand. After a rather interesting process, he succeeded and began to read.
iHarry,
Just thought we'd let you know that Ron may have a little trouble trying to get his gift to you on time. Fred and I asked Pig very nicely if he'd do us this favor just once, so as soon as the little idiot's beak is unstuck (we KNOW you had to have given him something to make him shut up by now), be a dear and shove him out the window, please.
And now on to the real purpose of writing you this nice little note!
We succeeded (with no small amount of difficulty, may I add) in advertising some of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! For your birthday, and we wish you a very happy one indeed, please find enclosed...duhm duhm DUHM...your gift! Enjoy it, Harry! Since Fred and I are no longer going to be around, we expect you and Ron to take over for us as Gryffindor's resident sources of terror. Use things wisely!
Come visit us at the Burrow any time, Harry. Mum would love to see you. Ginny would, too. See you around sometime!
La!
-George/i
"Oh dear," Harry muttered, blinking. "I'm almost afraid to ask." He flipped the card closed and peered at the back. The words "Tap me!" could be read in flashing ink in the center of the card. Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, steeled his nerves and poked the writing with a finger. When nothing exploded, he dared a glance at the card again. A slot had appeared where the writing had been and small slips of paper were fluttering from it to fall on Harry's lap. The astounded boy picked one up and read, "GIFT CERTIFICATE: A Special Someone has felt Kind enough to present you with this Valuable Item. Redeemable at Honeyduke's locations all Across England. Value: Five Assorted items from any 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Selection!"
Pigwidgeon squawked. Rolling his eyes, the amused boy pointed at the still open window and moved onto Hermione's gift. First came the letter:
iDear Harry,
Happy Birthday!
Meet Chaucer, my new owl. Well, actually, he's the family owl, but since I'm the only witch I consider him mine.i/
Harry looked up at the two owls resting on his headboard. "Chaucer, hm?" Hedwig shuffled a bit closer to the large owl and ruffled her feathers again. Chuckling, Harry returned to the letter.
iHe and Hedwig seem to get along very well. This could be the beginning of a good friendship. Or something.
Anyway, here's a clipping from the Daily Prophet that I thought you might like. It certainly knocked me out of reality for a moment or two. You'll never believe it, but I think you may have found an unlikely new ally.
Have a fantastic time during the rest of the summer! Or, as much of one as you can. If things get too desperate, I think I heard Ron mention something about Fred and George tapping into the Floo system a while back. Here's some powder, just in case.
I'll see you in Diagon Alley, I'm sure!
Love,
Hermione/i
The clipping was indeed a surprise. "CORRUPTION AT THE MINISTRY, by Rita Skeeter." Almost dismayed, Harry read softly aloud, "It has come to the attention of this dedicated news witch that the Minister of Magic has committed a grievous offense against a defenseless being. One Siruis Black, the supposed traitor and murderer, was held in Azkaban without trial for thirteen years before his escape, three years ago today. Witches and wizards, allow me, Rita Skeeter, to set the record straight; SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT."
"WHAT?!" Harry shouted. He instantly clapped a hand over his mouth and watched the door warily, but when Vernon Dursely failed to crash into the room after a few moments, he took another breath and returned his attention to the article.
"It has come to the attention of this hard working woman of truth that the poor creature known as Sirius Black is truly innocent of any Death Eater activity. With apologies to the family of one Peter Pettigrew, allow me to explain; Black, seen at right, was NOT the Secret Keeper for the unfortunate Lily and James Potter on the night of You-Know-Who's demise. He had felt himself unworthy of this task, and asked the Potters earlier that week to transfer the responsibility to another of the Potters' close friends; Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was an unregistered Animagus who took the shape (fittingly) of a rat. Friends, allow me to describe to you the horrors unleashed upon Sirius Black after the transfer...."
And so on. Harry read, entranced, the entire story of Peter's betrayal. With wide eyes, he glanced at the photograph. A cheerful, much younger Sirius waved back at him from a broomstick. The grin on the youthful face was unstrained, the brotherly arm slung around the shoulders of an equally enthusiastic...James Potter...was waving the pther boy's left arm exuberantly. "iThe innocent Sirius Black and the unfortunate James Potter after winning a game of Quidditch for Gryffindor House in their Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Black was a Prefect and served as the team's Keeper/i," read the caption.
Harry blinked at the picture, wishing he dared go downstairs for scissors to add the photo to his album. He felt himself smiling as the young Sirius Black began making faces. Shaking his head, he returned to reading aloud, focusing on the final paragraph of the article. "Due to the unjustifiable actions of one Cornelius Fudge, this poor, innocent man has been denied a life of love and promise. What is more, the refusal of the Minister of Magic to allow a trial for Black has forced one of the wizarding world's finest to live in deplorable conditions. The young mister Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter who defeated You-Know-Who sixteen years ago, when just an infant, has been living with Muggles of the worst kind; magic haters. Witches and wizards, please assist this determined reporter in her efforts to clear Sirius Black's name so that young Harry may live with his loving godfather as a member of the magical world, just as his parents would have wished. Humbly outraged, Rita Skeeter."
"Incredible," Harry murmured and shook his head. Hedwig hooted softly as he put the clipping down and lifted the brown package she had brought him. "Dare I?" Harry asked her, amused when she shook her head. He carefully untied the string and peeled away the paper to reveal a shirt. Raising an eyebrow, he lifted the shirt and unfolded it. There was a snitch on the left sleeve and the back read, "Call me the Boy Who Lived and Die" in flashing colors. Laughing, Harry put the shirt down and picked up the letter that had been tucked under it. The handwriting did not belong to Sirius.
iDear Harry,/i it began,
iHappy Birthday!
The current misson is going well, which was really only to be expected. It is merely a treasure hunt of sorts, in any case, although I am hesitant to call Death Eaters 'treasure.' With luck, we'll be back in Hogsmeade before the end of the summer, so we'll write to you once we're there.
The shirt was Sirius' idea, in case you're wondering. I won't describe to you the strange looks we received when we added the "and Die" to the order but rest assured that they were very odd indeed.
Your real gift will be waiting for you at Hogwarts in Hagrid's care. Since we don't want you to burst from curiosity, here's a hint; think Quidditch.
By the way, Sirius says that the answer to your question is, "Yes, thank you very much, and keep your nose to yourself." I'm afraid to ask, so I'll leave you two to your secrets.
See you in a month or two.
Love,
Remus and Sirius/i
Harry sniggered and put the letter aside. The only thing left in the package was a bag of cookies which Harry happily munched on as he contemplated the chances of the Dursley's fireplace being currently in the Floo network. Deciding that chances were not really all that great, Harry piled his new belongings on the floor and settled into bed. He fell asleep to the sounds of rustling feathers with a smile on his face.
***
"Boy!"
With a start Harry tumbled out of bed, landing on his elbow. "Ouch," he winced, and rubbed the wounded limb as he tottered to his feet. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"
"We're going into town. Dudders needs some new school things. You're to weed the garden and mop the floors. I expect the house to be spotless when we get back."
Harry opened his door to find his aunt tapping her toe, arms crossed over her thin chest. "You mean you're leaving me here alone?"
Petunia sniffed. "Don't burn my house down."
"I...won't, Aunt Petunia," Harry promised, amazed. "I won't even smudge the windows."
Petunia sniffed again, rolled her eyes, whirled on her heel, and marched away. "Vernon! Let's go. Dudders, go get in the..."
A very surprised Harry stood in the hallway in his nightclothes watching her departing back. "Huh," he said. Hedwig hooted sleepily but encouragingly at him. Harry shook his head at her and wandered over to his window to watch the Dursleys pile into the car and drive off. "Amazing," he told Hedwig and the still-present Chaucer. "Simply amazing."
It was with high spirits that Harry trotted down the steps later that morning, after waking a second time. Humming, he cooked himself breakfast and read the newspaper, a feat he had nevner had the opportunity to complete. He whistled as he washed the dishes, danced with the mop, and literally skipped outside to weed the garden. After the chores were complete, Harry treated himself to a long bath and a rereading of iQuidditch Through the Ages/i.
The phone rang as Harry was dressing. Mumbling a curse, put his shirt down and zipped down the hall to answer the obnoxious appliance. "Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Ron?"
"Harry!"
"You're using a phone!"
"Am I doing it right?" Ron increased his volume. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
"Ron!" Harry bellowed. "You don't have to shout."
"Oh, sorry. Right, then. Happy birthday, Harry."
A grin spread across Harry's face. "Thanks, Ron."
"Ah, sorry you didn't get a present last night," Ron coughed. "Fred and George kidnapped Pig. He'll be on his way again soon, I promise."
"No rush," Harry plopped to the floor, still grinning. "Nobody's here at the moment."
"Really? How'd you manage that?"
Harry's grin widened. "No idea. They just decided to go shopping and didn't even try to pawn me off on the cat lady."
Ron chuckled. "Wow, Harry. You could have a party."
"Ron, that's not such a bad idea," Harry mused.
"No! Forget I said anything! They'll kill you, Harry."
Harry laughed. "Nah. Although it would be great if you could drop by for a visit."
"Yeah, it would. Or if you wanted to, you could sneak out and come stay here. Mum's been missing you, you know. 'Oh, I just feel so bad for poor Harry'," Ron mocked, " 'having to spend his summer with those dreadful Muggles. He should come live with us, poor thing. Imagine, magic haters! The nerve of Professor Dumbledore, making him live like that.' It continues, Harry. For about three hours. It's quite the show."
"Does she mean it?" Harry asked, barely daring to hope.
"Of course! You should know by now that she's always trying to get you to stay with us."
"Wow," Harry blinked. "I feel special." Ron snorted. Harry laughed again, then offered, "Well, I doubt the Dursley's would miss me much...."
"MUM!" Ron yelped. "Let's go get Harry!"
"Is he in trouble with those wretched people? Oh, I'll just kill them if he's hurt," Harry heard before Ron, choking on his laughter, stopped her.
"No, Mum, he's fine. But the Muggles aren't there now, so it would be the perfect time to go snatch him."
Mrs. Weasley took the phone from her son. "Harry?"
"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley," Harry bit back a chuckle. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Harry. How are /i?"
"Better than ever, Mrs. Weasley."
"Would you like to come visit, dear?" In the background, Harry could hear Ron whoop.
"I would love to."
"Excellent. Ronald, go tell your father to get the Floo Powder. And see if Fred and George are around somewhere. Harry, we'll be there in a short while, all right?"
"That's fantastic, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much," Harry was feeling slightly overwhelmed.
Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Not all at, Harry, dear. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley, and thanks again!" Harry stared at the phone for a minute after hanging up. Then, with a shout, he leapt up and ran up to his room. He packed feverishly, tossing his books and robes together, and snickered when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror while searching for his toothbrush. "Silly boy," he wrinkled his nose at his reflection, "you forgot your shirt!" Toothbrush located, he dashed back to his room and tossed on his new shirt.
Harry sent Hedwig and Chaucer out the window and headed downstairs to write the Dursleys a note explaining the situation. Whistling, he waited jubilantly by the fireplace for the Weasley clan to arrive.
With a rush of wind, Ron tumbled onto the hearth. Harry tackled the redhead as he tried to sit up, eliciting a shriek of laughter from Ron. "Geronimo," called one of the twins before jumping on Harry, and the other whooped before bowling into the pile.
"Oh my," Arthur Weasley said, finding his sons wrestling with their friend. He waded in carefully and began extracting boys one by one. "Don't kill him, George, who would help you invent things? Fred, stop choking Ron. Hello, Harry."
Harry grinned. "Hullo, Mr. Weasley."
"All ready to go?"
"You bet," Harry replied, waving at the pile behind him. "And I wrote the Dursleys a note. They'll be glad to be rid of me."
Ron snorted as he greeted Hedwig. "They'd be happier if they never had to see you again, Harry. Ah, nice shirt."
George and Fred grabbed the trunk. "We'd be happier if Harry never had to see them again," they chorused, wrinkling their noses at the same time.
Harry blinked. "So would I," he muttered fervently. "So would I."
Clearing his throat, Mr. Weasley directed Fred and George to return with the trunk. Once the duo had vanished, he turned to Harry. "You're certain there isn't anything you've forgotten?"
The wistful note in Mr. Weasley's voice made Harry choke back a chuckle. "We can double check. Let me show you the house." The trio spent the better part of an hour examing the Dursley residence, an hour puncuated by exlamations of, "Microwhatsis?" and "How absolutely fascinating."
Eventually, George showed up again. He found them in Dudley's bedroom, where Ron and his father were attempting to make Dudley's computer start up. Harry was collapsed on the bed, shaking with repressed mirth. "I hate to intrude," George shook his head, "but Mum wants to know if you're planning on coming home for dinner. Tomorrow."
"Oh dear," Arthur Weasley sighed. "I lost track of time. Well boys, we'd better go. Grab Hedwig's cage, Harry."
Harry smiled as he stepped into the rekindled fire and waved goodbye to the whirling living room. A moment later, he was engulfed in a hug by Mrs. Weasley's strong arms. "Welcome back to the Burrow, Harry, dear."
Harry hugged back. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he crowed happily.
She waved him away. "Call me Molly," she advised him, and greeted her husband.
"I've redecorated," Ron told Harry. "Come up and see!"
The two boys left the rest of the Weasleys in the kitchen to prepare dinner and headed up to Ron's room. Ron made Harry close his eyes before entering the remodeled room, and closed the door behind them. "Go on, then." With no small amount of trepidation, Harry pushed the door open to reveal...a room no longer decked out in blazing orange. Instead of the previous obsession with the Chuddley Cannons, Ron seemed to have developed a fascination with Puddlemere United.
"Wow," Harry said. "When...when did this happen?"
Ron grinned as he threw himself on the bed, where he did not clash with the new blue comforter. "Who knew Percy was so close with Oliver Wood? I mean, sure, they were in the same year, but we never expected him to send us all of this."
Harry laughed as the team members made faces at him from a poster. "Is he officially playing now?"
"The usual Keeper broke his arm eight games in a row," Ron informed him. "The team manager felt he was a liability, since every time he broke his arm, the other team scored. Wood moved up immediately."
"Excellent," Harry breathed, entranced by the poster that showed Oliver half-smiling shyly and blushing. "Why does he look so embarrassed?"
Ron wrinkled his nose. "Oh, he's had women fawning all over him since he got promoted. The photographer was a girl, I believe, and had just said something a little...forward. Percy couldn't stop laughing about it for days. Actually, speaking of Percy-"
A crash from downstairs interrupted him. Laughter echoed up the stairs; evidently two people had just enjoyed a rather interesting story.
"What on earth," Ron muttered as the boys tramped down to the first floor again. "Ack. I might've guessed."
Percy Weasley was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, still chortling and holding his stomach. From his tangled sprawl on the floor, trapped in a pile of Quidditch pads and a broomstick, Oliver Wood glared up at him. "I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault! If those stupid girls would just go /i," Oliver cried, trying to extract himself from the mess. He wasn't having much success.
"You do lead them on, you know," Percy choked down another chuckle and helped Oliver stand. "The way you blush every time one of them screams at you-"
"WHAT IS GOING ON?" Molly Weasley stormed into the room, hands on hips. "I'm trying to make DINNER, and...why, hello, Oliver. Will you be joining us tonight?"
Oliver bobbed his head and smiled sheepishly. "If you don't mind, Mrs. Weasley. I'm a bit afraid to try a restaurant tonight, and I know better than to taste my own cooking."
Molly readily agreed. "I take it you won the game?"
Percy grinned. "They did, indeed. 370-60. Oliver was brilliant; he saved no less than twenty-nine goal shots. You're blushing again, Ol."
"Bugger," Oliver muttered, and looked around for an escape route. His eyes lighted on Harry and Ron, who were standing bemused at the foot of the stairs. "HARRY!" Oliver crowed. He leaped across the room and swept Harry into a bear hug. "Haven't seen you in ages, old fellow. How goes the old team?"
"Can't...breathe..."
"Oh, sorry."
Harry blinked. "Not a problem," he assured Oliver, rubbing his side.
"Boys! Dinner!"
Ron shrugged at Harry. "Best not keep her waiting. She still thinks you're too skinny, you know."
Harry made a face but, as he trailed behind the still snickering Percy and the self-righteous Oliver, he couldn't help but think how wonderful the rest of his summer would be.