Counting Fairies

By: Rai-channi

AN:/ I thought that this would be a good idea, mainly because I like doing drabbles and such. It is basically a drabble collection.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter

Summary: Random drabbles (mostly Harry-centric), in no particular order, with no particular theme. Warnings for each drabble at beginning of said drabble.


#1
Warnings: Not much, except maybe for vagueness, Pondering!Harry, no pairing.


Harry stared at the parchment before him as his hand trembled, how could Voldemort have contacted him? The letter that had been brought to him by Great Horned owl, it had been written in a perfect script, similar to that which he had seen in the diary in his second year of Hogwarts.

It gave him a proposal, asking him to join Voldemort, to turn on those he loved. He was offered protection, equality, as well as a promise not to harm his friends and those precious to him, as long as they didn't get in the way, of course. Friends, friends who had barely written to him over the summer, friends that had left him to deal with his relatives and death alone.

He looked around his small room, and glanced at the window, the barred one that he was rescued out of. He frowned, thoughts turning towards his cupboard and the first eleven years of his life.

"They were terrified of me," Harry thought with a snort, "Though, at the time I was running from Dudley and his gang of Harry-Hunters, avoiding the disapproving glares of the neighbors who believed the lies the Dursley's fed them. Would it really be so bad, if people like them were to die? Maybe Voldemort is helping the Wizarding World."

Harry shook his head violently, reminding himself that Voldemort had killed his parents, tried to kill him, had killed Cedric, and countless other wizards and witches. Surely, Voldemort was lying about all of these promises.

"Dumbledore is also keeping secrets, why does he keep sending me back here? Why were my parents targeted in the first place?"

The letter had prompted him to reply quickly, and the owl was getting impatient, scratching at Harry's small desk. His mind made up, Harry picked the pen up, dipped it into ink and began to write his reply.