Hullo! I've decided I want to post this here as well :)
The Potters are alive, Voldemort is in Azkaban (there is a reason, he's not just chillin' there for the heck of it), Harry is a curse-breaker, and there is actually a plot in this story. Some letters are light-hearted, some smutty (eventually), some crazy, some gloomy.
All the chapters will be short (300-2000 words), which dramatically increases its chances of updating (in fact, this is the only story of mine that stands a chance of being updated weekly).
Chapter 1. That Awkward Introductory Letter
Dear Whoever's-unlucky-enough-to-get-this,
I'm not really sure what made me pick up the quill and write aside from my friend Hermione's nagging. Mum says that you'll break out of prison, find me, rape me, and kill me. That it's unsafe. Then again, she grew up in the muggle world and has very strange ideas about what's safe and what's not. She thinks Quidditch is unsafe, imagine that? And there are only around several dozen casualties caused by it every year.
Dad thinks that if you're in Azkaban, you're probably a Slytherin, and he thinks Slytherins aren't human enough to think about. He told me that if we ever meet, I should hex you in the balls. I was gracious enough to not point out that if you do manage to escape from Azkaban, 1, you will probably have other priorities than finding me, 2, you're not the kind of person who'll be hindered by some good nut-hexing.
Actually, I don't even know whether you have balls or not because the Ministry guy who signed me up was like 'Here's parchment, here's a quill, now make it work!'. They correspondents are chosen at random.
In any case, even if you do turn out to be a serial killer with a few deaths tucked under your belt and an obsessive stalkerish personality, I was pretty good at DADA at Hogwarts. Good enough to give Malfoy a coronary whenever someone nearby mentions the subject.
(His twitching is so fun that sometimes Hermione, Ron, and I covertly surround him on all sides and start saying nice things about me in turn, and watch to which side he shudders. It's almost… hypnotising.)
I work as a cursebreaker and although there are some pompous arseholes claiming that it's not a risky or thrilling job and that it doesn't require that much brains, they obviously haven't worked a second of it in their lives. Suffice it to say that I'm in the middle of dispelling curses on two objects right now, and my house's been turned into a battlefield. Current losses on my side include an ugly crystal angel who looked like he wanted to murder me in his sleep (RIP angel. Then again, it was a present from my horrid Aunt Petunia to my mum who later re-gifted it to me to decorate my new house. Thanks Mum), old sneakers, a vial of something Snape gave me years ago and I haven't touched, and a bottle of illegally smuggled French liquor. Current losses on the enemy's side haven't yet occurred but I'm pegging away at it.
For the opportunity to have this conversation you have to thank my friend Hermione. This charming lady whom I want to strangle only five times a day on average has been campaigning for years to make Azkaban more liveable and healthy. The Ministry isn't exactly enthusiastic. She claims that one of the ways to reduce suicide rates at the prison would be to make communication possible for the inmates, because many of them go insane without captivating conversation, apparently. My humble opinion is that removing Dementors who, y'know, are literally there to suck happiness and sow depression, would be more effective in promoting health and happiness… but, well, my opinion's too humble for Wizengamot.
Since the Aurors, including my Dad, were too afraid that contact between prisoners would make it easy for them to plan a breakout, it's been decided that every inmate will get one correspondent. All the letters have to pass through Aurors to ensure that they contain no objects, aren't cursed, not charmed to portkey the receiver to some faraway location.
If you're not bored out of your mind (if you still have a mind, because, from what I've heard, Azkaban isn't exactly a health resort), you could quickly pen something in reply?
You can start by answering the following questions:
How do you spend your days in prison? Do you make notches on stone walls? Do they feed you often? Can you befriend a Dementor?
Fuck do I suck at letter-writing. Why am I doing this again?
Harry Potter
P.S. The weird brown splotches on this letter happened because my friend Ron made a very inappropriate joke about Voldemort and snakes, and I was drinking. Good thing I didn't die. Having coffee soaking your letter is unfortunate but probably better than blood gurgles.
Ron,
You made me spit coffee on the most painful piece of writing in my life. I hate you.
At least tell Hermione that I've caved in and sent it. Now, how can I send back this house-elf army holding posters with sad pictures and quotes about the suffering that prisoners endure in Azkaban?
Definitely not yours,
Harry
P.S. About Voldemort/Nagini pairing. How can it be called 'furry' when she's kinda not… furry?
Dear Harry,
Please don't take your anger out on Ron. Thinking that his best mate hates him negatively influences his psyche. Whenever Ron's psyche is influenced, he goes to his other best mate – namely me, if you have forgotten amidst all the sulking you do daily – and starts whinging and making those sad, sad, sad eyes to force me to play chess with him. And when I'm playing chess, I can't draft new bills to advance the cause of love and social justice in the magical world.
Think about house elves, muggleborns, werewolves, vampires, ghosts, hags, squibs, and everyone else who receives fewer freedoms because you insist on behaving like a lovechild of Draco Malfoy and Zacharias Smith.
Hermione Granger, a righteously furious witch
P.S. Boys, you are both silly and mixing up the terms. I believe that what Ron wanted to say was 'bestiality' – after all, Nagini is an animal, not a human dressed as one. I expect you both to check your terms in the dictionary before you use them.
Not-dear-don't-think-I'll-forgive-you Miss Granger,
I've never raised you to be so passive-aggressively threatening.
Harry
P.S. Dictionaries suck.
Dear Harry,
Thankfully, you didn't raise me at all.
Yours,
Hermione Granger, a witch respectful to libraries and all the books in them, including dictionaries, and whose house elves are always ready to instil love towards literature on command
Dear Harry,
I was thrilled to receive vague veiled threats, coffee splotches, and confusing ramblings from you.
From the very first words of your letter I was delighted by the beauty of your chicken scrawl. It has been a while since my last visit to Hogwarts, so tell me, is it what they are teaching you there nowadays? Or are you just that special?
I take offense to the not-so-subtle jab about the state of my sanity. I am as sane as ever. In fact, I have retained enough presence of the mind to pick up a few clues from your letter that will allow me to find and deal with you once I leave this remarkable residence.
Your parents sound like noteworthy people. I remember annihilating the likes of your father by dozens back in the day.
And yes, I, indeed, 'have balls', but you were correct in thinking that hexing them is out of your reach.
I am highly surprised by your claim that you are a cursebreaker. I have spent my entire life under the delusion that only intelligent people follow this path. It seems there is a bad egg in every field. The only way you could possible redeem yourself is to tell me more about these cases you are pursuing – while I have never been a cursebreaker, I am proud to say that I have a fair share of knowledge in this area. Of course, my main preoccupation has always been how to curse items.
What do I get if I answer your questions? Shall we play a 'question-for-a-question' game?
Here, I shall make a broad gesture and respond to yours first:
1) Boringly.
2) No.
3) No, they don't feed us, you are writing to a starved ghost.
4) Dementors are at their friendliest when they lean down, and you feel the ghostly touch of their hood, and the smell of rot washes over you, and all your worst memories explode behind your eyelids.
My questions: 1) Where do you live? 2) Tell me more about your parents. 3) Why did you decide to be a cursebreaker? 4) Does your friend Hermione plan any other similarly… enchanting campaigns?
I expect details.
It is a sign of my great boredom that I choose to continue correspondence (and the fact that, unfortunately, I am in no position to choose anything – had you inquired further, they would have told you that the prisoner is required to exchange letters as long as their pen friend from the outside world wishes to keep in touch).
Grateful to your friend Hermione and feeling blessed to have been gifted with such a fascinating interlocutor,
Tom
P.S. What tells you that I am not Lord Voldemort (please keep in mind that people have been killed for less than forgetting to add the title of the most powerful wizard in world history)?
To those reading my other fics: Tearing the Veil from Grace was updated last week, in case you've missed it. I wanted to post When Lies Turn into Truth next but have received such a sudden and welcome influx of readers for Design Your Universe that I'm working on that instead. Will post some progress on my tumblr (valloryr)!
