Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Please review nicely, no flames, though I hope for suggestions to improve my writing. This story is going to be a less crazy version of my sixth year fic, Wizarding for Dummies.
-~*~-
Harry Potter stared at the family of ducks gliding across a littered manmade lake, and leaned back, hands behind his head, to avert his gaze to the sky. It had only been two weeks since his departure from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he felt as though it had been a couple of centuries. Restless, Harry turned over to his side, to watch the young children play soccer, playfully kicking it into the net, and giving each other high-fives. Teenagers on Harry's left were playing a three-on-three game of basketball, all of them carefully trying to avoid Harry.
Apparently, the untruthful fact that Harry really attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys had spread across the neighborhood, Privet Drive, and nearly everyone believed so.
"Where else would that mysterious young boy go to school?" They would say, making sure they did not step within ten feet of Harry.
Though this may have bothered Harry before, being on the receiving end of their curious stares and sneers, he didn't particularly care now. All he wanted was his friends and his space. And Sirius, Harry thought bitterly. Suddenly, Errol cascaded down the air towards Harry, like a fly that had been whacked by a racket, and landed in a heap on the ground. Harry poked him carefully, and Errol jumped with a hoot, sticking its leg out as though it had momentarily forgotten.
"In broad daylight, Errol? You can do better than that…we're lucky no one noticed," Harry mumbled, chastising the exhausted bird that flapped its wings, and took off over the playground equipment.
Harry grabbed the short letter, and read it carefully.
Hey Harry!
Hermione and I've been bugging Mum to let you stay for the past week and she still won't crack. I really hope you can stay soon, I'm fairly sure you're getting bored over there. I'll try to not have fun without you—but when you have got a list of chores the size of London, and lovely garden gnomes throwing parties in your backyard—how can you avoid the excitement? Dumbledore tells us you can come soon though; I just hope he'll keep his word. We're not at The Place, if that's what you're thinking. We're over here at the nice and cozy burrow, and Fred and George like to pop in and out, naming me the 'official' tester of their products. Bloody annoying, if you ask me. Right now, I'm sure you'd enjoy seeing me. My hair is blue, and I've got horns on my head. In fact, I'd rather like to kill them. By the way, I caught a glimpse of tomorrow's Daily Prophet while I was with Dad at the ministry. I think you might find it highly entertaining. I'll try to send you a copy.
Cheers!
Ron.
Harry smiled and folded the note into thirds, and proceeding to shove it into his pocket. He was glad they weren't telling him to sit tight and leaving the note at that. Though, he missed Sirius's words of confidence. Lupin seemed to take that job over now that Sirius was gone. Harry noticed that whenever Lupin had included the name Sirius in his letters, the note was always a little blotchy. Moody and Tonks sent him back words of reassurance, and told him that they would get him out of there much sooner than the previous year. Harry was glad, now, that they were sending these letters—all of them, but he couldn't help but feel a little anger bubble as he imagined them all laughing over jokes as they cheerfully passed food around a dinner table.
Sighing in aggravation from boredom, Harry wearily lifted himself from the ground and stretched. He ignored the fact that a mother pulled her son sharply away from Harry as he passed her on the sidewalk, but turned to give the child a nice smile anyways. The mother appeared shocked at his friendliness.
Harry calmly strode into Number Four, Privet Drive, and ready to walk up the stairs to his bedroom, before he heard a loud grunt from his uncle.
"Where do you think you're going?" Vernon asked, in between mouth bites, a raspberry filled doughnut held firmly between his sausage-like fingers.
"Upstairs?" Questioned Harry, wondering whether he had to do chores or something of the sort.
"No, you're not," Vernon said, taking another bite, "You're going to pull the weeds out from the lawn, and then you're going to mow. Hear that, boy?"
"Yeah, yeah…" said Harry. "I hear you."
Sighing, Harry changed directions, going back out the front door and into the hot, muggy air.
Harry wiped the sweat from his head with a grungy, soil covered palm. It had only been a few hours, but the sun seemed to be unrelenting on the back of Harry's neck. Figuring that nobody would notice the rest of the weeds, Harry went out to the shed and started up the lawn mower. He vaguely wondered where Dudley was, as he pushed the lawn mower in a diagonal direction, cutting the grass evenly and neatly. Probably beating up another third grader, thought Harry, turning off the lawn mower after about another hour or so, and shoving it back in the shed. He had been doing the yard work at least twice a week, and housework once a day. Though his Aunt and Uncle had been treating him better, giving him more food, allowing him to watch TV and such, they gave him more chores.
Harry that no one was in sight as Harry returned into the cool, air-conditioned home, Harry sprinted up the stairs before Vernon could give him something else to do. Harry locked his door and flopped backwards onto his bed, feeling lonesome. Without even realizing it, Harry slipped his glasses onto his bedside table, and promptly fell asleep.
~*~
Harry started whistling as he passed the four dead guards lying on the ground beside him, twirling a ring of keys on his long, thin finger. He reached a jail cell that contained Lucius Malfoy, grasped the bars with his hands, and said,
"Why Malfoy, such a pleasure meeting you here again. I wonder how many times you have been in this prison, now."
Harry jammed one of the keys inside the padlock, opening the door, but no one stepped out. "Get out here, Lucius." When there was no response, Harry hissed, "NOW!"
A noise that sounded like a nervous jump on rusty bedsprings was heard, and a thin, pale face, peeked through the darkness. "Master?" He called timidly. Harry smirked, grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the cell.
"Yes, now help me release the rest of them before more guards come," said Harry. "Oh, I would very much like it if you would stay out of my head, Potter."
~*~
Harry awoke with a yell, his hand clutching his scar, and his vision doubling. He then fell out of bed, knocking over his bedside table, and causing Hedwig to hoot loudly. Another jolt of pain went searing through Harry's skull, making Harry yell louder, and stumble blindly through the room, trying to reach the door handle.
"HARRY POTTER! YOU OPEN THIS BLOODY DOOR THIS INSTANCE!" Vernon roared, pounding his large fist on the door. Harry shakily unlocked the door, and fell down to the floor, still gripping his scar, as if the trip to the door handle was really a climb to the top of Mount Everest.
"What in the bloody blazes is going on in here?" Vernon asked in shock, looking at the over-turned bed stand, Hedwig hooting angrily in her cage, and the broken toys that were once on the shelf now scattered across the floor.
Harry said nothing, clenching his teeth as he strained to stand up. Petunia, who had been standing fearfully behind Vernon, pointed at Harry's forehead.
"Your scar…" She said quietly.
"What about it?" Harry asked sharply, his face, now pale from fright and pain, turning to her.
"It's bleeding."
Almost as if on cue, a trickle of blood ran down the bridge of Harry's nose. Harry bolted past his aunt and uncle towards the bathroom to grab a towel. Thankful that Petunia's towels were red, Harry dabbed at his scar with it, turning to look at his reflection. A skinny boy with a nest of messy black hair stared back at him, and as Harry removed the towel, he noticed that his scar had reopened, and it was a slight red color.
"Bugger," Harry said to himself.
"I want that room cleaned by the morning, no exceptions!" Vernon yelled from his room. "And don't make any more bloody noise or I'm booting you out of this house!"
Knowing it was an empty threat; Harry unperturbedly turned on the faucet, and splashed cool water onto his forehead, wiped it off with the towel, and proceeded to exit the bathroom, returning to his room. He sighed and sat at his desk, grabbing parchment and a quill as Hedwig eyed him worriedly.
Dear Professor,
First of all, I wanted to apologize for…what happened in your office. I was just…I felt like jumping out your window at that moment, because of what I did to Sirius, and I took my frustrations from over a year out on you, and I'm truly sorry for that. Voldemort, I think, is releasing prisoners from Azkaban, though I wouldn't trust my word if I were you. He knew that I was there, watching him, and that's what I'm worried about. He was shooting pain through my skull, and Petunia pointed out that my scar was bleeding. I went to the bathroom and noticed that my scar had completely ripped open again. Does this mean anything?
Sincerely,
Harry
"Up for a travel to Hogwarts, Hedwig?" Asked Harry, fumbling with putting the letter into an envelope, feeling weak and exhausted. Hedwig gave him a look as though she was scared to leave him alone, but stuck her talon out anyways with a hoot as Harry opened her cage.
Harry quickly cleaned his room, and flumped back onto his bed, falling asleep instantly.
Tap, tap… Harry groaned, pulling his pillow over his head. Tap…
"Alright, alright," said Harry reaching for his glasses. He saw Hedwig hovering at his window with a letter clutched in her beak. Harry hurried over to the window, letting her in. He opened the letter quickly, hoping for an answer.
Dear Harry,
I assure you, it is no longer an issue. All of my items have been replaced. And if I were your age and in your position, I would have handled it much worse. But there is a more important issue at hand. The bleeding scar is most certainly not normal; I wish to examine it as soon as I have the chance. I will send Lupin to pick you up in a few days to take you over to Grimmauld Place. It may be painful for you there, but it is the only place we are able to conceal ourselves at. I do believe your vision was real this time, Harry. We will start up occlumency again once we are there, though I am trying to find an able professor besides me, for I do not have nearly enough time to assist you. Hang in there, and stay out of trouble.
Sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore
Harry crumpled the letter up and tossed it into the trash bin, and went to the bathroom to check on his scar. It has scabbed over from where it re-opened, but it luckily wasn't bleeding anymore. Harry noticed that he had grown much taller over the summer so far, and was only about a few inches shorter than Ron, and he had tanned slightly from being out in the sun. Other than that, there really were no changes. He went downstairs, carefully avoiding the stares from his family members. Harry walked into the kitchen, preparing himself toast, and sat down at the table. Harry strained his ears to hear his aunt and uncle talking over the news.
"Where's Dudley at? Wasn't he staying the night at one of his friends?"
Petunia nodded, "He didn't specify who, he just said he wouldn't be back until today."
Harry finished his toast and washed his plate off, putting it back into the cupboard. He swiveled around as the sound of an opening door approached his ears, and saw Dudley stumble in red faced, and looking delirious, a funny smile across his face. Harry suspected he was drinking.
"Dudley! Are you alright?"
As he walked across the floor, he caused the china cabinet to rattle as if it was threatening to fall, and Dudley languidly slunk onto the sofa. "I'm fine, mum…just fine…"
Harry sniggered as Petunia and Vernon gave each other worried looks.
-~*~-
Please review!