In the Closet
by: SrReadsalot
Summary: After Sirius died, Harry had to find another out let, other than his friends, to keep himself… sane. When he chooses poetry as his outlet, he doesn't know how to tell his friends. "Will they accept me? Will they still care?"
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, no matter how great, does not belong to me… unfortunately. However, all poems in this piece were written by yours truly. Oh, and the story line is also mine.
Chapter One
Harry had spiraled into a slight depression after Sirius died. He didn't eat much and he spent most of his time walking out side or up in his room writing. He didn't like to talk about it but it was always on his mind. So he started writing poetry to get his thoughts out and loved it. It was so freeing for him. It helped him through where talking to his friends made him fall short. He smiled to himself. His poetry had become like a dear friend full of all his memories; the good and the bad.
The book he kept his poems in was sacred to him and he never took it from his room. He had a separate notebook he carried around with him that was for fast little notes about something he saw.
September 1st was fast approaching, though, and Harry wasn't quite sure what his friends would say about him writing poetry. He needed a way to let them know with out actually telling them. It didn't really make any sense, but it was what he was going for.
"Boy! Get down here and cook our breakfast!" Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his already messed up hair. He had been lying in bed, writing, and since it was so hot in his room, all he had on was a pair of shorts. He turned and caught a look of himself in the mirror. His black shorts looked as if they were made from the hair along his abdomen and his chiseled abs looked vaguely like a wash board. The swell of his pectorals wasn't very prominent but Harry like it that way. With out his glasses to hide behind, his eyes were even more vivid emerald and the tan that coated it all was a golden brown. He dug in his dresser for a shirt and found a red t-shirt, nicely folded on the top.
He was trying to shrug into the almost-too-small shirt when his door opened with a bang. The scene was almost comical. Harry looked like a prison whore with his black shorts on and his arms raised above his head. The warden, or Uncle Vernon, was red in the face. "I said, get down there and make our breakfast, boy." He slammed the door shut and stalked off down the hall.
Harry finished wiggling into the shirt, that hung just at the top of his shorts, and went downstairs. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were sitting at the kitchen table: her with a book in her hands, reading and him holding his fork and knife with a bib tied around his neck. Harry tried not to laugh at the sight of Dudley sitting there and almost succeeded until Dudley started banging the fork and knife on the table. Harry's laugh was very short and very quite. He had learned that it was very hard to explain why he was laughing sometimes and it was better just to do it quietly. There was bacon, sausage, pancake mix, and bread on the counter when Harry turned to look.
Dudley had been doing this lately. He wouldn't admit to it, but he laid out all the ingredients to what he wanted in the morning, just so he was sure to get it. Harry started making the pancakes while toasting the bread. Uncle Vernon walked in and huffed at Harry indignantly. He sat down and opened up the paper.
Just then an owl flew in through the kitchen window and dropped a letter in Harry's outstretched hands then left the same way. There was a loud crash and Harry looked up. Aunt Petunia was holding her chest above her heart as if she were afraid it would come out. Dudley had run from the room leaving his fork and knife on the table. Uncle Vernon had slowly put down the paper and was a plum shade of red when he turned to look at Harry. "Good news I hope." Uncle Vernon spit out through clenched teeth. "Because you are about to get very bad news, you're leaving. Now. Pack up your things and get out of my house. I don't care what that man said. You are leaving now and not coming back until next summer."
Harry sprinted from the room, afraid Uncle Vernon was going to get up and chase him out. Harry packed his things as quickly as he could, laying his book of poems on top. He didn't bother to say goodbye to his uncle, aunt, or cousin because it was just asking for trouble. He stuck his wand out and along came the large purple bus that had once transported him to the Leaky Cauldron in his third year.
A young man, maybe twenty, stood on the steps. He had on a purple tux and top hat that made Harry want to laugh but didn't. His portly stomach and barrel chest gave Harry a good vibe and cause Harry to instantly like the man. His red hair and blue eyes suited the man. "Hello, my name is Hugh. I will be your bus assistant for your journey. The driver's name is Benny. Point to Benny. Please, allow me to help you with your belongings. Pick of wizard/witch's luggage." Hugh picked up Harry's trunk and he followed the odd but friendly man onto the bus. "Place luggage in bag and ask passenger if he/she would like transportation, night services, or deluxe package." The man met Harry's eyes for the first time. "Would you like transportation, night services, or deluxe package?"
Harry smiled at him and said, "Transportation to the Leaky Cauldron, please."
The man smiled at his politeness and said. "To the Leaky Cauldron, Benny." Hugh took Harry's luggage and stowed it near by, despite what the card had said. "So, what's your name?"
"I'm Harry, Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you." They shook hands and Harry decided to ignore the stunned look from Hugh.
Several minutes later, the bus arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron and Hugh put Harry's luggage on the side walk. "It was nice meeting you." He bowed slightly as if Harry was royalty and the bus was gone.
Harry walked into the bar and looked for Tom. "Hey, Tom, long time no see. How are you doing?" Harry went to shake the man's hand behind the bar. He looked pretty much the same with his out of date style and facial characteristics.
The man smiled warmly and put down the glass he was polishing. "Harry Potter, it's good to see you again. I take it your luggage means you will need a room until the first?" Harry nodded happily and dropped the man's hand. "Your room from last time is open at the moment if you wanna go on up. I will have your stuff up there in a few. I need to serve these customers and I will be up with some pumpkin juice and sandwiches." Tom turned to his newest customer sitting at the bar and Harry made his way up the stairs.
The room was different than he remembered and then he realized why. The furniture arrangement had been changed. The window was still directly across from the door but that seemed to be the only similarity. The bed was against the far wall and the night stand was sitting under the window. There was a gold lamp on the table with a flexible neck used for reading. There was also a muggle phone sitting next to the lamp with a list of taxi services next to it. On the right side of the room was a desk that Harry thought was perfect for writing his poetry. There was an oval rug in the middle of the hard wood floor and the bathroom was on the right with an entrance by the foot of the bed. It was a little smaller than his room at the Dursley's but held so much more warmth that Harry was almost teary eyed.
A few minutes later, Tom came in and dropped off the juice and sandwiches and said he would be back with Harry's trunk. He put the trunk at the foot of the bed and sat in the desk chair facing Harry who was on the bed eating. "Oh, I'm stupid. Sorry, Tom, I don't have any more money right now. I need to stop at Gringotts. I hope that's okay." Harry was kind of worried but was also kind of puzzled at the look on Tom's face.
"Oh it's not that. Don't even worry about it. Actually the room is already paid for up until the first. What I was wondering about was why you are here in the first place. I heard from Dumbledore and Fudge that last time you was here that you were actually supposed to stay at that cousins of yours. Is that true? And if it is, why ain't you there now?" Tom's eyes held a knowledge and a sincerity that Harry had never seen in them before.
Harry sighed in defeat. He figured Dumbledore probably already knew he was here, the man knows everything, or so it seems. And he would probably be safer if people knew he was here. He ran his hands through his hair. I've been doing that a lot lately. Harry thought to himself as he said allowed, "My uncle kicked me out of the house. The school owl flew in trying to give me my school letter and my uncle was in the room when it did. He blew up and told me I had to leave, not that I mind." Harry was completely unaffected but Tom gasped.
"Your own family kicked you out cause you got an owl!" He was outraged. "I can't believe them stupid, idiot muggles!" He fake spat on the floor and looked up at Harry. "You can stay here free of charge. And don't think I'm only offering cause it's already paid for." Tom got up to leave. "I have some customers asking for me. Now you make yourself at home and I will be up to check on you later." Tom backed out of the door and started down the steps.
Harry bolted out the door and yelled to Tom, "Who paid for my room, Tom?" Tom either didn't hear him or was pretending not to when he slipped behind the bar. A new idea for a poem suddenly hit Harry and he decided it wasn't the time to ask Tom about his mysterious benefactor.
Harry went to his trunk and got out his book of poems. Her proceeded to right.
Look in my eyes.
gaze into me,
as if I were a child
with wide eyed innocence.
What do you see?
Droplets of my essence
leave baby white steaks
through the dirt and grime.
My discolored soul begins to pool
in the dimples on my cheeks.
For I am still smiling
through all your harsh words.
I stand and take my punishment;
there is nothing else I can do.
This is what you see.
Look harder.
Delve deeper than the surface.
What is really there?
No, past that façade
of indifference.
Do you see it yet?
A helpless child
faced with things
he doesn't understand.
A scared boy
told his mother is gone.
A defiant teen
not believing anything you say.
A strong man
realized but not accepted.
Harry put down his ball point pen and rubbed his eyes. I'm not going to cry, I'm just tired. Harry walked over to his used dishes from earlier and took them down to the bar.
Not many people were in the large room so most of the tables had chairs on top of them with a mop moving around by itself. They people who were there didn't look familiar.
There was a couple in the corner eating dinner. The man looked very tall with dark brown hair, gelled to look slightly messy. His blue eyes were gleaming with desire for the woman sitting across from him. The woman had long, brown, wavy hair that went down to the middle of her back. He couldn't see her face very well but she had a nice, lean body and a good sense of muggle fashion from what he could tell.
There was a man sitting at the bar drinking what looked to be his sixth or seventh ale. He was on the pleasantly plump side and had matted brown hair. The raggedy clothes he was wearing lent support to Harry's first instinct of "bum". Tom was standing next to the man, trying to get him to leave and stop ordering ales but not to much success.
The only other person in the room besides Harry was a tall, cloaked figure. He, or she, had just come in from Diagon Alley and was headed straight upstairs without a glance to anyone.
Tom came over then to see if Harry would like some dinner and he said, "Yes, please." Tom went to get Harry a menu and then left to go and kick the drunk man out for good.
Harry looked over what was offered and finally settled on a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. It was the middle of summer, but for some reason, he was cold and nothing was better when you are cold than tomato soup and grilled cheese.
Harry devoured his dinner in record time and then went back upstairs. He read over what he had written and thought to himself, Good over all, but it could use some work. He changed out of his jeans and t-shirt and went to take a shower.
The bathroom was nicer than he remembered it being. The floor was a dark blue, marble tile, lain in an intricate pattern and the faucets were silver. The sink and overly large bath tub were a cream color. Harry liked the looks of the bath tub and decided that a nice bath was in order.
He stripped down and let the faucets in the bath fill the tub. He gingerly stepped in and sat on the steps leading into the small pool of a tub. He started doing laps once the tub was filled and let his mind drift. His days at the Dursley's were numbered. They had kicked him out this summer. What's to say they won't do the same next summer? Dumbledore was not going to be happy.
Harry decided to go out the next day to get his school things. He had the weirdest feeling all day that he was being watched. He kept shrugging it off as paranoia.
Then he started to see the cloaked figure for the other night in all the shops he went to. When he was in Flourish and Blotts buying his books, Cloaky was buying muggle fiction. In the apothecary, Harry got all of his standard ingredients replenished and the new ones he would need. The man, or woman for that matter, was buying about a half dozen unicorn tails.
Harry finally got fed up with being followed and went back to his room to drop everything off. He then went down to the bar to get some lunch. "Hey, Tom, how are you today?" Harry sat down and smiled at the man. It was late for lunch so there weren't that many people at the bar. Harry had planned to eat a Florean Fortescue's but the cloaked figure had started to get to him and he decided to call it a day.
"Hey there, Harry, I'm doing mighty fine. What'll it be? You have lunch yet?" Harry shook his head and looked down at the bar top. "That won't do, now will it? My kitchen is open 24/7, waddaya want?" Tom smiled at Harry and Harry took the menu with a soft "thank you".
A few minutes later, Harry decided on chicken fingers and French fries. He wasn't adventurous enough to try the pig intestines and floorp, what ever that was.
Harry was just finishing up his chicken when Cloaky came in and swept up the stairs to his room. Harry hailed Tom over and then went back to looking up the stairs. "Hey, Tom, who is the person always wearing the cape? I think he, or she, was following me today. At first I thought it might be a Hogwarts student, but they weren't buying any of the school materials that I could tell." Harry glanced to see if Tom had given a reaction to anything Harry said. He hadn't.
"Sorry, Harry, they asked me to keep their identity a secret. He tried to pay without giving me a name but I told him I don't let just anyone stay here. They have to have identification and such unless I know um personally. He gave me ID and has been here since… about a week or two before you got here actually." Tom chuckled as if this were funny. "Anyways, can I get you anything else?" Harry shook his head. "Okay then."
Tom walked away to check on the other customers and Harry made his way to his room.
He had a sudden idea. He knew the person watching him was a guy, maybe he could find out who he was if he snooped? He stood on the landing, eye level with the floor the rooms were on. There was light coming from three rooms, one of them his. This is going to be an interesting summer. Harry smirked and went into his room to figure out what he still needed from Diagon Alley.
A/N: Okay everyone, school starts in about a week. That means not as many updates. I really need to focus on school work and myself. So I will continue to write, it will just be less. I was on vaca last week so you can't count that in your "more or less" listings. XP Thanks for the support and reviews, SR