Disclaimer: I own nothing, other than all original characters not seen/mentioned in Harry Potter before and the plot. All Harry Potter related things belong to JK Rowling. I am not earning any money from this, nor making a profit. I'm meerly playing in their sandbox because they have nicer toys and no cat poop. C'mon folks, if i DID own it, i wouldn't NEED to write fanfiction, would I? For example, THAT thing that happened in OotP would NEVER have happened.
Author: Lani
E-Mail: lanirhys@aol.com
Authors Notes: Fifth year AU fic, started in Word pre-OoTP, but i've tried to keep some things that i thought were right for this plot consistent (and i am NOT revealing now. i spent too long thinking about it!).
Please R/R! :)
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Chapter One
We've seen our share of up's and down's
Oh, how quickly life can turn around
in an instant
Sacrifice, Creed
*****
The Williams and Orion Taylor moved into number six Privet Drive in Surrey, next to their friends of many years, the Dursleys. The Dursleys and the Williams were, for lack of the better words, kindred spirits: they both disliked anything abnormal, they both shuddered to think what they would do if the neighbours thought them to be anything other than exemplary examples of upstanding people, and they both looked down on, well, pretty much everybody and they both were very nice to their bosses, people who could gain them social status and people with more money than themselves.
Although the dislike of anything abnormal could be true of almost everybody in Privet Drive, that isn't the point. The point is that these two families knew each other -Vernon Dursley and Richard Williams had attended Smeltings together, gone to the same college and were each others best man; their wives, Petunia and Cecilia, were friends through their husbands -they met while each was dating their would-be husbands and had become fast friends (the affinity for noisiness was prominent in both and played a huge factor in their initial impressions).
However, as was being said, these two families were very much alike, though it's true that, at this time, they didn't know how deep it extended…
As it was, both were overjoyed when, whilst the Williams were considering moving, number six Privet Drive came up for sale; needless to say, they had their offer in like a shot and, by the beginning of the summer holidays, all aspects of the deal were closed and on the first hot summers day of the holidays, when there wasn't a breeze to be felt or a leaf to be seen to flutter, the Williams moved in.
*****
Harry Potter wasn't your average boy, aside from the black hair that never lay flat, and the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, he was a wizard at the best school in the world, or Britain at least: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, currently under the headmastership of Albus Dumbledore.
There was also the small matter of the worst dark wizard that the magical world had ever seen wanting him dead. Last year, after the final task of the Triwizard Cup, he had used his, Harrys, blood to bring him back to full form and power, and proceeded to torture Harry just because he could. Harry didn't need to be told that he had seen and been through more things than most adult wizards and witches would hopefully never have too.
He wasn't going to brag about it. Frankly, he'd rather spend the rest of his life forgetting the whole experience, but, as he learned upon returning to the Dursleys for the summer, life went on. It maybe hard and downright painful to do, and sleep may be a hard-to-come-by-quantity, but the world didn't stop for one person, or even a group of people. So Harry was learning how to live through the bad days and crawl through to the good ones.
This summer, like several before, he, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, was locked in the smallest bedroom, his school things hidden away under a loose floorboard, was only allowed out to go to the bathroom twice a day, and his meagre meals came through a cat flap in the door made by Uncle Vernon three years ago. Not the ideal lifestyle, really.
There was an upside to being locked in his room -the Dursleys never spoke to him (were probably afraid they might catch something, he thought idly), unless it was Uncle Vernon coming to yell at him to 'shut the ruddy hell up' or to 'shut that ruddy owl up': the former usually came during the night when the nightmares came and he woke up screaming in a cold sweat, tangled in bed sheets, and the latter when Hedwig wanted to go out, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't pass the key to her cage through the cat flap. Luckily, Harry was able to explain that she'd stop screeching and flapping if she was allowed out.
On one of the first and hottest days of the summer, he'd watched the new family move in next door -they were family friends of the Dursleys and they had a son the same age was Dudley called Joshua. From the few occasions that he had met him, Harry got the idea that though he wasn't nearly as fat as Dudley, nor as mean and punch-happy, he still wasn't a nice person. This meant that Dudley had a new crony to add to his goggle of followers.
Currently, whilst he looked on at the new neighbours, he watched a girl with long, raven black hair pick up a box and carry it inside; he'd never seen her before.
Then again, the Dursleys were never keen on letting people know he existed -she was probably Joshua's cousin or something, helping them to move their boxes in.
*****
Orion picked up a box labelled 'Kitchen', thinking it was pretty unfair that Joshua got an ice-cream for taking in two boxes, and she got told off for being lazy after carrying in three, when the uncomfortable feeling of being watched trickled through her senses. Looking around she saw nothing, and carried on with the unloading, carefully keeping out of Richard and Cecilia's feet.
There was only one time that she could afford to get under their feet for even the briefest of seconds, and that was when the social worker, Dan, came over to make sure everything was 'okay', though Orion had never figured out whether that was 'okay' for her, or for the Williams, but nothing ever changed after his visit. She was still the 'stupid Foster Kid' at school and she was still the chewing gum on the bottom of the Joshua's shoe.
There were several reasons why the Williams and she didn't get on, but there was on fundamental reason that dated back to the early days of their fostering when she was five and had been playing in the front garden, and Mr-Next-Doors-Dog, a beautiful golden retriever, wandered onto the road, straight in-front of an oncoming car. The next thing anybody knew, the dog was back inside Mr-Next-Doors front garden, and Orion was the only one there, so, naturally, it was her fault.
Richard and Cecilia Williams didn't believe in magic. Orion learned that quickly. Their son never believed in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus or any other sort of nonsense. It was all very stupid and pointless to them.
They prided themselves on being completely normal, and rather well off, which was why they got on so well with the Dursleys.
Yes, the one thing they valued over everything else was money. It was this love of it that kept them fostering Orion, because they got paid for doing it, and their reputation within the community was boosted, because they took care of the girl like she was 'a member of their own family'.
Orion believed in magic when she was five, and ten years later she still did, though not in the same sense of the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. She believed that scientific reasoning or method could not explain some things, that they were magical.
It was this hope that there was something else to life, that kept her going when Richard was yelling at her for not doing the washing properly, or for getting a letter home from school because something weird had happened when she was nearby.
There was one proud fact that Orion had no trouble telling anybody in doubt, and that was that she was in no way, shape, form or marriage in which she was related to the Williams -she didn't even have the same last name.
The people at the orphanage had given her the last name of Taylor; her mother had given her first name to her before she died, but that wasn't the only difference. While she had straight, black hair that came past her elbows, all of the Williams had varying degrees of blonde hair. One of her eyes was blue, the other brown, Richard and Joshua had grey eyes, and Cecilia had hazel green eyes, they had olive skin and she had pale skin.
The next morning, when all the boxes had long since been bought in, and the beds placed in the right bedrooms, Orion was sitting at the table, eating breakfast and being ignored while the Williams talked amongst themselves about going on a trip to London next week. The silent treatment lasted until the post came, at which point Richard looked up from the conversation,
"Get the post, Orion."
"Why should I?" she wasn't in the mood to be ordered about today: she hadn't slept well the night before and was hungry -Joshua had eaten the last of the Cornflakes, and there hadn't been a chance to get any more food since they moved in, so she was stuck with a bowl of milk. It felt eerily like being a cat.
He glared at her, "Because I said so -now go get the post."
Returning the glare, she rose from the table anyway -milk wasn't very fulfilling.
On the floor in the hallway were seven letters, flicking through them, as she did every time she was made to go and get them, she found nothing immediately riveting. Not even a postcard that she could read on the return journey.
"Junk, junk, junk, Welcome To Your New Home, junk, wrong address… hey," she paused: the last letter was addressed to her. In person. Without even bothering to look at it properly, she stuffed it into one of the pockets of her combat trousers and grinned to herself. This was the first letter she'd ever received -call her selfish, but she wasn't about to let the Williams spoil it! Wiping the happy expression from her face, she walked steadily back into the kitchen, pushed the letters in front of Richard, cleared away her bowl of milk and ran upstairs before anybody could say a word.
Inside her bedroom, which contained only a bed and two boxes, (which, in relation to Joshua's bed, six boxes and two duffels, was not a lot for a fifteen year old girl), she barricaded the door with the nearest, moveable, box and flopped onto her bed, examining her new treasure closely.
It wasn't made from paper, that was for sure; it felt thicker and was yellowed -it was parchment. What kind of person used parchment nowadays? The ink on the front was green and loopy (Orion Taylor, 6 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey), and the envelope was closed with a wax 'H' seal.
Shaking with barely concealed excitement, she opened it with care.
Inside were three more sheets of parchment.
The first piece had a shield printed in ink on it, showing a badger, a snake, a lion, a bird and an 'H', the rest of the header was even stranger,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbedore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grad Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)
"What?" wondered Orion, "A magic school?" Intrigued, she read on to the green and loopy handwriting below:
Dear Miss Taylor,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later that 31 July.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Whoah." She turned over to the next piece of parchment, listed on it were books by people like Newt Salacmander and Miranda Goshawk, she skimmed down the list, things like "1 cauldron' and '1 wand' caught her eye, along with '1 pointed hat' and '1 pair of gloves (dragon hide or similar)', causing her to think that maybe she hit her head at some point. She read back through it. A wand. She had read right. She was either delusional, or this was some very big prank; flipping over to the last sheet, she noted that this one was written in scarlet ink and by a different hand.
Dear Miss Orion Taylor,
Somebody will be meeting you at your house on June 20th so that you can get your school things and bring you to Hogwarts -no owl will be needed. I look forward to seeing you then.
Yours Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
For the rest of the day, Orion was all but silent, debating whether or not to tell the Williams that some one would be coming over to take her and buy some school things, and only answering Cecilia's call to help unpack Joshua's things on the sixth beckoning.
The next day, Orion was up early reading and re-reading the letter, still wondering if she should tell them, or just leave. It wasn't like they actually loved her anyway, the only thing they loved as the money.
At seven-thirty she went downstairs, got a glass of milk and found some stale cornflakes at the bottom of a box, surprisingly enough, labelled 'Food', and tip-toed as silently as she could, back up to her room to get changed -the letter didn't say anything about what time this person would arrive. Rifling through her meagre collection of clothes that had been thrown into the bottom of a box took only a matter of minutes, and she subsequently decided oh the combats she'd worn yesterday, which were dark blue and didn't show creases very easily, and a hooded red t-shirt for no other reason than it was the smoothest to pull out.
An hour and a half later Joshua was up and out of bed, and one hour after that Richard and Cecilia arose.
By then, Orion was beginning to doubt the letter, and her spirits fell. But then, at twenty to twelve, when she had all but given up and was getting ready to face another summer with Joshua, the doorbell rang and her hope rose.
"Get the door Orion!" Cecilia hollered from the kitchen, where she was reading a recipe she had borrowed from Mrs. Dursley. For the first time ever, she didn't complain, instead she jumped down the stairs three at a time, the whole way praying to whoever may be listening that it was the person sent to get her, and not one of Joshua's friends, or Dudley from next door.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, a thought struck her like lightening, how would she know?
She opened the door slowly, not daring to look, but when she couldn't keep her eyes squeezed shut for another minute, and she stood a foot inside the threshold, she stared at the man before her, something flickered in the back of her mind but it was gone before it properly registered.
*****
When the first week of summer rolled by, with nothing from Sirius, but several owls from Ron talking about random things, for which Harry was very grateful -it was his only connection to the Wizarding World, and one from Hermione saying she was on holiday with her parents for a few weeks but would be back in England soon, unless they visited some relatives in Germany.
On Wednesday of the second week, Harry woke up to Pig tapping hyperactively on the window, a piece of parchment attached to his tiny leg. Hastily, Harry opened the window and let the owl inside (it was seven in the morning after all), taking off the letter and making Hedwig share her perch with him (a task that was harder than it sounded) before finally opening said letter and reading it.
Dear Harry, (was written in Ron's characteristic scrawl)
Do you want to come over to my house for the rest of the summer? My mum and dad spoke to Dumbledore and he said you're allowed to stay -I would've sent you an owl sooner saying this, but it took them from when school broke up 'til now to sort it out, I don't know why and dad wouldn't say, and he said I shouldn't say anything until Dumbledore said yes for sure.
Adults are weird.
We're coming to get you tomorrow at 8 o'clock in the evening, whether those Muggles you live with say you can come or not. Just be in the garden then and we'll come and pick you up. If you're not there then, well we'll come inside and get you anyway. That means you can spend your birthday at our house!
Hermione's going to come over in a week or something and she's going to owl us when she's back in England.
Have you heard anything from Snuffles? We've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet and nothings really been reported, unless you count how much the Prophet hates Dumbledore.
From,
Ron
Did he want to go to The Burrow? Did he want to leave the Dursleys? What a question! Of course he did! Writing as much on the first bit of parchment he could find, he also said that he would be on the front garden, trunk and Hedwig and all, at six, whether the Dursleys agreed or not.
*
A few hours later a thin, bony hand pushed a small plate of cold bacon (three rashers) through the cat flap.
This was his chance.
"Aunt Petunia? Could I go to my friend's house for the rest of the summer? I wouldn't need to come back for the rest of the year. They could be here for eight tonight." The words came tumbling out one after the other, afraid that she would leave before he was finished.
Lady Luck was listening, for once, because he heard a sniffing of disdain,
"I'll talk to your uncle."
Harry did a small, very quiet, victory dance; 'talk' was better than an outright 'no'.
At seven thirty, every thing was packed and ready, Harry was pacing up and down the small expanse of his bedroom like a caged animal, and Uncle Vernon had yet to decide whether he could go or not. Personally, he didn't see where the debate was -he hated Harry, Harry hated him; he hated Harry staying in his home, Harry hated staying there too… where was the question?
Apparently, the same thing had occurred to Uncle Vernon, it just took longer to get through his dense skull, because at five minutes to eight, and not a minute before, he came stomping up the stairs and threw open the lock on his door and stood like a gigantic elephant in the doorway.
"You can go as long as we don't have to see you again 'til next summer," he said gruffly.
Like I'd want to spend Christmas with you?
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
"They'll be here at eight?"
That's what I said, you great oaf.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
He looked at the watch on his large wrist, three minutes to eight. Then, he did extremely unusual, but not entirely unexpected; he helped Harry carry down his trunk, because, on his own, it would have taken him a lot longer than three minutes to get everything on the front lawn, and that would mean wizards being longer on his garden. Now, Uncle Vernon couldn't have that, could he? No, they might contaminate the lawn, or something: maybe blow it up.
"Thank you, Uncle Vernon."
The door was slammed shut behind him.
Sitting on his trunk, Harry mused about how the Weasleys would pick him up, they didn't have a car (anymore), and the Ministry was hardly going to lend one again, they couldn't come by Floo Powder since he was outside, but they could use a Portkey (however uncomfortable the experience). He was wrong. With a loud 'bang!' the Knight Bus rumbled to a stop in front of him and Mr. Weasley hopped off with a slight green tinge to his cheeks and a word to the driver to wait a minute.
"How are you, Harry?" he said, smiling, as he and Harry picked up the trunk and loaded it on to the bus.
"I'm great: no more Dursleys for the rest of the summer, oh wait, Hedwig," running back to Hedwig, who squawked angrily, he returned to the triple-decker bus, owl and all, as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley motioned for him to follow as they climbed a rickety staircase to the middle-floor.
As far as Harry could remember, you were supposed to pay for the services of the Knight Bus, had things changed since he went on before his third year? Also, instead of the bunks lining the walls, there were padded seats and blankets, thinking about it, last time it had been very late -the seats would probably change to bunks in a few hours.
"Professor Dumbledore arranged the fares to be paid," Mr. Weasley explained, "and to get to and from quickly, so we should be arriving back at The Burrow soon."
Harry nodded, but was slightly preoccupied in thinking that he was very glad that the cold bacon was the only thing he'd eaten all day when they went over a pothole and round a hairpin of a bend.
The middle-aged witch on the seat beside them, whose hair was streaked an interesting side of red, wasn't as lucky and put a hand to her mouth as her face turned an ill-looking green.
Several sharp turns, jerks and twists later, the Knight Bus was at The Burrow and Mrs. Weasley was hugging him and bringing him inside, saying that he would be having some supper with Ron, and then it was straight to bed.
Harry grinned. The summer holidays had finally begun.
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So, what did you think? Okay? Terrible? Whatever you think to it, REVIEW it. Please? I can live with flames, they keep my room warm in the winter!
I won't say i won't write anymore unless I get a certain number of reviews, 'cause that always sounds kind of stupid.
ANYWAY, I would like it very much if you DID review **nods**
--Lani
Author: Lani
E-Mail: lanirhys@aol.com
Authors Notes: Fifth year AU fic, started in Word pre-OoTP, but i've tried to keep some things that i thought were right for this plot consistent (and i am NOT revealing now. i spent too long thinking about it!).
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Chapter One
We've seen our share of up's and down's
Oh, how quickly life can turn around
in an instant
Sacrifice, Creed
*****
The Williams and Orion Taylor moved into number six Privet Drive in Surrey, next to their friends of many years, the Dursleys. The Dursleys and the Williams were, for lack of the better words, kindred spirits: they both disliked anything abnormal, they both shuddered to think what they would do if the neighbours thought them to be anything other than exemplary examples of upstanding people, and they both looked down on, well, pretty much everybody and they both were very nice to their bosses, people who could gain them social status and people with more money than themselves.
Although the dislike of anything abnormal could be true of almost everybody in Privet Drive, that isn't the point. The point is that these two families knew each other -Vernon Dursley and Richard Williams had attended Smeltings together, gone to the same college and were each others best man; their wives, Petunia and Cecilia, were friends through their husbands -they met while each was dating their would-be husbands and had become fast friends (the affinity for noisiness was prominent in both and played a huge factor in their initial impressions).
However, as was being said, these two families were very much alike, though it's true that, at this time, they didn't know how deep it extended…
As it was, both were overjoyed when, whilst the Williams were considering moving, number six Privet Drive came up for sale; needless to say, they had their offer in like a shot and, by the beginning of the summer holidays, all aspects of the deal were closed and on the first hot summers day of the holidays, when there wasn't a breeze to be felt or a leaf to be seen to flutter, the Williams moved in.
*****
Harry Potter wasn't your average boy, aside from the black hair that never lay flat, and the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, he was a wizard at the best school in the world, or Britain at least: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, currently under the headmastership of Albus Dumbledore.
There was also the small matter of the worst dark wizard that the magical world had ever seen wanting him dead. Last year, after the final task of the Triwizard Cup, he had used his, Harrys, blood to bring him back to full form and power, and proceeded to torture Harry just because he could. Harry didn't need to be told that he had seen and been through more things than most adult wizards and witches would hopefully never have too.
He wasn't going to brag about it. Frankly, he'd rather spend the rest of his life forgetting the whole experience, but, as he learned upon returning to the Dursleys for the summer, life went on. It maybe hard and downright painful to do, and sleep may be a hard-to-come-by-quantity, but the world didn't stop for one person, or even a group of people. So Harry was learning how to live through the bad days and crawl through to the good ones.
This summer, like several before, he, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, was locked in the smallest bedroom, his school things hidden away under a loose floorboard, was only allowed out to go to the bathroom twice a day, and his meagre meals came through a cat flap in the door made by Uncle Vernon three years ago. Not the ideal lifestyle, really.
There was an upside to being locked in his room -the Dursleys never spoke to him (were probably afraid they might catch something, he thought idly), unless it was Uncle Vernon coming to yell at him to 'shut the ruddy hell up' or to 'shut that ruddy owl up': the former usually came during the night when the nightmares came and he woke up screaming in a cold sweat, tangled in bed sheets, and the latter when Hedwig wanted to go out, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't pass the key to her cage through the cat flap. Luckily, Harry was able to explain that she'd stop screeching and flapping if she was allowed out.
On one of the first and hottest days of the summer, he'd watched the new family move in next door -they were family friends of the Dursleys and they had a son the same age was Dudley called Joshua. From the few occasions that he had met him, Harry got the idea that though he wasn't nearly as fat as Dudley, nor as mean and punch-happy, he still wasn't a nice person. This meant that Dudley had a new crony to add to his goggle of followers.
Currently, whilst he looked on at the new neighbours, he watched a girl with long, raven black hair pick up a box and carry it inside; he'd never seen her before.
Then again, the Dursleys were never keen on letting people know he existed -she was probably Joshua's cousin or something, helping them to move their boxes in.
*****
Orion picked up a box labelled 'Kitchen', thinking it was pretty unfair that Joshua got an ice-cream for taking in two boxes, and she got told off for being lazy after carrying in three, when the uncomfortable feeling of being watched trickled through her senses. Looking around she saw nothing, and carried on with the unloading, carefully keeping out of Richard and Cecilia's feet.
There was only one time that she could afford to get under their feet for even the briefest of seconds, and that was when the social worker, Dan, came over to make sure everything was 'okay', though Orion had never figured out whether that was 'okay' for her, or for the Williams, but nothing ever changed after his visit. She was still the 'stupid Foster Kid' at school and she was still the chewing gum on the bottom of the Joshua's shoe.
There were several reasons why the Williams and she didn't get on, but there was on fundamental reason that dated back to the early days of their fostering when she was five and had been playing in the front garden, and Mr-Next-Doors-Dog, a beautiful golden retriever, wandered onto the road, straight in-front of an oncoming car. The next thing anybody knew, the dog was back inside Mr-Next-Doors front garden, and Orion was the only one there, so, naturally, it was her fault.
Richard and Cecilia Williams didn't believe in magic. Orion learned that quickly. Their son never believed in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus or any other sort of nonsense. It was all very stupid and pointless to them.
They prided themselves on being completely normal, and rather well off, which was why they got on so well with the Dursleys.
Yes, the one thing they valued over everything else was money. It was this love of it that kept them fostering Orion, because they got paid for doing it, and their reputation within the community was boosted, because they took care of the girl like she was 'a member of their own family'.
Orion believed in magic when she was five, and ten years later she still did, though not in the same sense of the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. She believed that scientific reasoning or method could not explain some things, that they were magical.
It was this hope that there was something else to life, that kept her going when Richard was yelling at her for not doing the washing properly, or for getting a letter home from school because something weird had happened when she was nearby.
There was one proud fact that Orion had no trouble telling anybody in doubt, and that was that she was in no way, shape, form or marriage in which she was related to the Williams -she didn't even have the same last name.
The people at the orphanage had given her the last name of Taylor; her mother had given her first name to her before she died, but that wasn't the only difference. While she had straight, black hair that came past her elbows, all of the Williams had varying degrees of blonde hair. One of her eyes was blue, the other brown, Richard and Joshua had grey eyes, and Cecilia had hazel green eyes, they had olive skin and she had pale skin.
The next morning, when all the boxes had long since been bought in, and the beds placed in the right bedrooms, Orion was sitting at the table, eating breakfast and being ignored while the Williams talked amongst themselves about going on a trip to London next week. The silent treatment lasted until the post came, at which point Richard looked up from the conversation,
"Get the post, Orion."
"Why should I?" she wasn't in the mood to be ordered about today: she hadn't slept well the night before and was hungry -Joshua had eaten the last of the Cornflakes, and there hadn't been a chance to get any more food since they moved in, so she was stuck with a bowl of milk. It felt eerily like being a cat.
He glared at her, "Because I said so -now go get the post."
Returning the glare, she rose from the table anyway -milk wasn't very fulfilling.
On the floor in the hallway were seven letters, flicking through them, as she did every time she was made to go and get them, she found nothing immediately riveting. Not even a postcard that she could read on the return journey.
"Junk, junk, junk, Welcome To Your New Home, junk, wrong address… hey," she paused: the last letter was addressed to her. In person. Without even bothering to look at it properly, she stuffed it into one of the pockets of her combat trousers and grinned to herself. This was the first letter she'd ever received -call her selfish, but she wasn't about to let the Williams spoil it! Wiping the happy expression from her face, she walked steadily back into the kitchen, pushed the letters in front of Richard, cleared away her bowl of milk and ran upstairs before anybody could say a word.
Inside her bedroom, which contained only a bed and two boxes, (which, in relation to Joshua's bed, six boxes and two duffels, was not a lot for a fifteen year old girl), she barricaded the door with the nearest, moveable, box and flopped onto her bed, examining her new treasure closely.
It wasn't made from paper, that was for sure; it felt thicker and was yellowed -it was parchment. What kind of person used parchment nowadays? The ink on the front was green and loopy (Orion Taylor, 6 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey), and the envelope was closed with a wax 'H' seal.
Shaking with barely concealed excitement, she opened it with care.
Inside were three more sheets of parchment.
The first piece had a shield printed in ink on it, showing a badger, a snake, a lion, a bird and an 'H', the rest of the header was even stranger,
Headmaster: Albus Dumbedore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grad Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)
"What?" wondered Orion, "A magic school?" Intrigued, she read on to the green and loopy handwriting below:
Dear Miss Taylor,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later that 31 July.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Whoah." She turned over to the next piece of parchment, listed on it were books by people like Newt Salacmander and Miranda Goshawk, she skimmed down the list, things like "1 cauldron' and '1 wand' caught her eye, along with '1 pointed hat' and '1 pair of gloves (dragon hide or similar)', causing her to think that maybe she hit her head at some point. She read back through it. A wand. She had read right. She was either delusional, or this was some very big prank; flipping over to the last sheet, she noted that this one was written in scarlet ink and by a different hand.
Dear Miss Orion Taylor,
Somebody will be meeting you at your house on June 20th so that you can get your school things and bring you to Hogwarts -no owl will be needed. I look forward to seeing you then.
Yours Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
For the rest of the day, Orion was all but silent, debating whether or not to tell the Williams that some one would be coming over to take her and buy some school things, and only answering Cecilia's call to help unpack Joshua's things on the sixth beckoning.
The next day, Orion was up early reading and re-reading the letter, still wondering if she should tell them, or just leave. It wasn't like they actually loved her anyway, the only thing they loved as the money.
At seven-thirty she went downstairs, got a glass of milk and found some stale cornflakes at the bottom of a box, surprisingly enough, labelled 'Food', and tip-toed as silently as she could, back up to her room to get changed -the letter didn't say anything about what time this person would arrive. Rifling through her meagre collection of clothes that had been thrown into the bottom of a box took only a matter of minutes, and she subsequently decided oh the combats she'd worn yesterday, which were dark blue and didn't show creases very easily, and a hooded red t-shirt for no other reason than it was the smoothest to pull out.
An hour and a half later Joshua was up and out of bed, and one hour after that Richard and Cecilia arose.
By then, Orion was beginning to doubt the letter, and her spirits fell. But then, at twenty to twelve, when she had all but given up and was getting ready to face another summer with Joshua, the doorbell rang and her hope rose.
"Get the door Orion!" Cecilia hollered from the kitchen, where she was reading a recipe she had borrowed from Mrs. Dursley. For the first time ever, she didn't complain, instead she jumped down the stairs three at a time, the whole way praying to whoever may be listening that it was the person sent to get her, and not one of Joshua's friends, or Dudley from next door.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, a thought struck her like lightening, how would she know?
She opened the door slowly, not daring to look, but when she couldn't keep her eyes squeezed shut for another minute, and she stood a foot inside the threshold, she stared at the man before her, something flickered in the back of her mind but it was gone before it properly registered.
*****
When the first week of summer rolled by, with nothing from Sirius, but several owls from Ron talking about random things, for which Harry was very grateful -it was his only connection to the Wizarding World, and one from Hermione saying she was on holiday with her parents for a few weeks but would be back in England soon, unless they visited some relatives in Germany.
On Wednesday of the second week, Harry woke up to Pig tapping hyperactively on the window, a piece of parchment attached to his tiny leg. Hastily, Harry opened the window and let the owl inside (it was seven in the morning after all), taking off the letter and making Hedwig share her perch with him (a task that was harder than it sounded) before finally opening said letter and reading it.
Dear Harry, (was written in Ron's characteristic scrawl)
Do you want to come over to my house for the rest of the summer? My mum and dad spoke to Dumbledore and he said you're allowed to stay -I would've sent you an owl sooner saying this, but it took them from when school broke up 'til now to sort it out, I don't know why and dad wouldn't say, and he said I shouldn't say anything until Dumbledore said yes for sure.
Adults are weird.
We're coming to get you tomorrow at 8 o'clock in the evening, whether those Muggles you live with say you can come or not. Just be in the garden then and we'll come and pick you up. If you're not there then, well we'll come inside and get you anyway. That means you can spend your birthday at our house!
Hermione's going to come over in a week or something and she's going to owl us when she's back in England.
Have you heard anything from Snuffles? We've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet and nothings really been reported, unless you count how much the Prophet hates Dumbledore.
From,
Ron
Did he want to go to The Burrow? Did he want to leave the Dursleys? What a question! Of course he did! Writing as much on the first bit of parchment he could find, he also said that he would be on the front garden, trunk and Hedwig and all, at six, whether the Dursleys agreed or not.
*
A few hours later a thin, bony hand pushed a small plate of cold bacon (three rashers) through the cat flap.
This was his chance.
"Aunt Petunia? Could I go to my friend's house for the rest of the summer? I wouldn't need to come back for the rest of the year. They could be here for eight tonight." The words came tumbling out one after the other, afraid that she would leave before he was finished.
Lady Luck was listening, for once, because he heard a sniffing of disdain,
"I'll talk to your uncle."
Harry did a small, very quiet, victory dance; 'talk' was better than an outright 'no'.
At seven thirty, every thing was packed and ready, Harry was pacing up and down the small expanse of his bedroom like a caged animal, and Uncle Vernon had yet to decide whether he could go or not. Personally, he didn't see where the debate was -he hated Harry, Harry hated him; he hated Harry staying in his home, Harry hated staying there too… where was the question?
Apparently, the same thing had occurred to Uncle Vernon, it just took longer to get through his dense skull, because at five minutes to eight, and not a minute before, he came stomping up the stairs and threw open the lock on his door and stood like a gigantic elephant in the doorway.
"You can go as long as we don't have to see you again 'til next summer," he said gruffly.
Like I'd want to spend Christmas with you?
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
"They'll be here at eight?"
That's what I said, you great oaf.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
He looked at the watch on his large wrist, three minutes to eight. Then, he did extremely unusual, but not entirely unexpected; he helped Harry carry down his trunk, because, on his own, it would have taken him a lot longer than three minutes to get everything on the front lawn, and that would mean wizards being longer on his garden. Now, Uncle Vernon couldn't have that, could he? No, they might contaminate the lawn, or something: maybe blow it up.
"Thank you, Uncle Vernon."
The door was slammed shut behind him.
Sitting on his trunk, Harry mused about how the Weasleys would pick him up, they didn't have a car (anymore), and the Ministry was hardly going to lend one again, they couldn't come by Floo Powder since he was outside, but they could use a Portkey (however uncomfortable the experience). He was wrong. With a loud 'bang!' the Knight Bus rumbled to a stop in front of him and Mr. Weasley hopped off with a slight green tinge to his cheeks and a word to the driver to wait a minute.
"How are you, Harry?" he said, smiling, as he and Harry picked up the trunk and loaded it on to the bus.
"I'm great: no more Dursleys for the rest of the summer, oh wait, Hedwig," running back to Hedwig, who squawked angrily, he returned to the triple-decker bus, owl and all, as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley motioned for him to follow as they climbed a rickety staircase to the middle-floor.
As far as Harry could remember, you were supposed to pay for the services of the Knight Bus, had things changed since he went on before his third year? Also, instead of the bunks lining the walls, there were padded seats and blankets, thinking about it, last time it had been very late -the seats would probably change to bunks in a few hours.
"Professor Dumbledore arranged the fares to be paid," Mr. Weasley explained, "and to get to and from quickly, so we should be arriving back at The Burrow soon."
Harry nodded, but was slightly preoccupied in thinking that he was very glad that the cold bacon was the only thing he'd eaten all day when they went over a pothole and round a hairpin of a bend.
The middle-aged witch on the seat beside them, whose hair was streaked an interesting side of red, wasn't as lucky and put a hand to her mouth as her face turned an ill-looking green.
Several sharp turns, jerks and twists later, the Knight Bus was at The Burrow and Mrs. Weasley was hugging him and bringing him inside, saying that he would be having some supper with Ron, and then it was straight to bed.
Harry grinned. The summer holidays had finally begun.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
So, what did you think? Okay? Terrible? Whatever you think to it, REVIEW it. Please? I can live with flames, they keep my room warm in the winter!
I won't say i won't write anymore unless I get a certain number of reviews, 'cause that always sounds kind of stupid.
ANYWAY, I would like it very much if you DID review **nods**
--Lani
