Chapter Two
Harry Potter sprinted down the busy sidewalk, dodging people as he went, his duffle bag swinging around as it hung loosely from his shoulder. His worn-out sneakers crunched the dried up leaves that were scattered around on the cement. He shouted apologies as he bumped into innocent pedestrians, trying to get to his destination while continuously cursing to himself for being so late.
Making a sharp turn around a corner and dodging yet another man on his way to lunch, Harry finally saw his destination come into view. Sighing with relief, he sped up until he was at the door of the two-story building. He threw the glass door open and ran up the flight of stairs directly at the entrance to the building. Taking them two at a time, he clutched his bag tightly to his side as he finally made it to the top landing. He tore through another door and skidded to a halt.
"I'm here! I'm here! I'm not late…" Harry looked around, panting as he clutched his side. The other people in the room looked up from their stretches and raised their eyebrows at him. Harry flushed in embarrassment and wiped some sweat from his forehead, relishing the feel of the air-conditioned room after running so long in the heat.
The others in the room laughed at him before going back to their stretches. They were all used to his tardiness by now and often teased him about it. He tried to ignore this most of the time, since it was just in good fun.
Harry straightened himself up and looked around at the room. It was large with polished hard-wood floors; the far wall was a giant mirror the dancers used to watch themselves in; the wall closest to him was blank except for a bar used for practicing with; the wall connected with that one had several large floor length windows that shed beams of light across the floors and provided sufficient lighting for the dancers.
He walked across the room to where he saw his best friend, Hermione Granger, already doing her leg stretches. She grinned up at him when he placed his bag next to hers and joined her. He slipped off his sneakers, finding it more preferable to dance barefooted. He sighed again as his aching toes were freed from the confines of his almost-too-small shoes and touched the cool hard-wood floor.
"Late again Harry?" Hermione asked as she sat up and rolled her shoulders, trying to get all of the kinks out.
"I'm not that late," Harry replied indignantly while doing a set of toe reaches. His back popped uncomfortably as he worked on stretching his body. "Ms. Pince wouldn't let me off until I shelved the latest order of new books." Harry took odd jobs at the local book store for extra cash whenever the store owner, Ms. Pince, needed a helping hand. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
"That's the third time this week," Hermione said as she stood up and re-tied her bushy hair back into a pony-tail. Harry often teased her about it being so thick that it couldn't even stay tied up for very long. This always earned him a nice punch in the arm.
"Well I don't have wonderful loving parents who drive me to practice in their nice, cozy car." Harry's parents had died when Harry was very young and he was left with his only living relatives, Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley. He almost laughed at the idea of his whale of an uncle ever doing something as nice as driving him somewhere, especially if it was somewhere Harry wantedto be. It would probably be illegal for his uncle to get behind the wheel of a car anyway, seeing as he was mostly drunk these days.
"You know my parents wouldn't mind picking you up; you're the one who refuses it!" Hermione looked at him and placed her hands on her hips. Harry knew what that meant; she was going to do that motherly thing she always did when she thought Harry was doing something that wasn't good for him. "You never let anyone help you out; it wouldn't be such an inconvenience for them to pick you up, you know. Besides, I don't like the idea of you running here in that heat for every practice.
"Hermioneeee… you're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Fretting. We've gone over this before. I appreciate the offer but it isn't necessary. I get here just fine on my own thank you." Hermione didn't push the matter further and turned her back to him. He watched her dig around in her bag for her water bottle, feeling a bit guilty about being so harsh with her. The truth was, Harry would have loved for Hermione's parents to give him rides, it would definitely mean less foot pain on his part, but he didn't want her parents to see the way he lived; it would only cause for more fretting on Hermione's part and unnecessary concern on the Grangers'.
Harry always appreciated Hermione's looking out for him though, even if it was sometimes a bit much; they had been that way for each other ever since they met at their very first dance practice. Harry had been six and Hermione seven.
Harry looked up at the large sign that read 'Miss Miranda's Dance Instruction' with wide eyes. He watched as parents and their children all shuffled into the building, chatting and laughing. The sun was setting for the day as children were practically dragging their parents from their cars, telling them to hurry up so they can get to their dance practice. Most were little girls but there were a few scattered boys as well, though some of them did not look very happy about the situation.
Harry had been out with his uncle and cousin on their way to a parent-teacher conference with Dudley's school. Apparently the large boy was prone to bullying and the teachers found it necessary to take action. Uncle Vernon thought otherwise of course and felt himself obligated to give those 'know-it-all good-for-nothing' teachers a piece of his mind.
"Boy! What do you think you're doing holding us up like this?" Uncle Vernon seethed as he stalked up to the small boy. Harry paled considerably.
"S-sorry uncle, I was just reading that sign." Harry pointed up to the sign to prove his point. His uncle's eyes followed his finger before they narrowed rather maliciously.
"Dancing eh? What kind of boy is interested in dancing? I always knew you were going to be a fruit, boy."
Harry's eyebrows scrunched up with confusion at his uncle's words and he bowed his head in shame. He may not have understood the exact meaning of what his uncle had said, but he knew that it couldn't have been anything nice. It never was.
"Hi there little boy," said a friendly voice. Harry looked up to see a kind looking woman with smiling blue eyes crouching down next to him. "Are you here for the practice?"
Harry opened his mouth to reply but his uncle beat him to it:
"No he's not. I'm not paying for him to learn some wishy-washy garbage for pansies." The kind woman looked up at his uncle with a frown on her face.
"Certainly you would agree that it would be good for the boy," another voice cut in, this time a man's. "It's obvious he is interested in dancing, aren't you?" Harry looked up at the man; he looked older than the kind lady, but not by much. He was standing next to a woman with bushy brown hair, who in turn was clutching the hand of a little girl with equally bushy brown hair. The little girl smiled shyly at him, which he returned just as shyly.
Uncle Vernon spluttered angrily at the man's intrusion on the conversation. It was obvious he was affronted at the nerve of people these days. He was surely about to give the man a piece of his mind.
"I-I want to learn to dance uncle," Harry interjected timidly. He was afraid of making his uncle angry again, but he really wanted to do this. It seemed like so much fun and the people seemed very nice.
"Well there you go then!" the man from before, whom Harry assumed to be the little girl's father, said as he clapped his hands and smiled merrily. "I think that settles this matter, don't you sir?"
Uncle Vernon looked beyond angry; his face was a very dark red and the veins on his forehead were popping out dangerously. He was obviously trying to keep his anger in check while out in public.
"Like I said, I'm not paying for him to learn something as foolish as dancing! He's a boy; he shouldn't be involved in such things anyway. It's unnatural."
"Oh, I think something could be worked out," the man answered. He then walked up to the kind lady and spoke directly to her:
"Is it too late to sign up this young man for dance lessons?"
"No, there are still openings," the woman replied, looking a bit shocked at the exchange she had just witnessed.
"Good. I'd like to pay for this boy's lessons, if that isn't too much trouble?"
"As long as his guardian is alright with this, and is willing to sign the form."
Harry looked up at his uncle, feeling his stomach drop to his feet; no way would Vernon ever do something this nice for Harry.
"Why should I do such a thing?" uncle Vernon replied nastily.
"It would be good for the boy, don't you think? It would get him out of the house and offer plenty of exercise."
"Get him out of the house eh…?" Harry perked up. His uncle seemed to be thinking it over, obviously weighing the pros and cons of agreeing to such a thing. He finally seemed to come to some sort of conclusion in his mind because he snapped his attention back to the man and the woman.
"Fine, as long as he," he jabbed his finger that man, "will be paying for all and I mean all, of the boy's lessons and I won't need to do any running around or other things of the sort."
"Of course not; I will make sure everything he may need is taken care of."
"Fine." Uncle Vernon walked up to the woman as she produced a few forms to be signed. When he was finished, he growled in frustration.
"Let's go Dudley, we're already late." And with that, he left Harry alone with the four complete strangers, feeling very shocked at what had just transpired.
"So," the man crouched down in front of Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. "How about we introduce ourselves? My name is William Granger, this is my wife Jane." Said woman smiled warmly at him, "and my daughter Hermione."
Harry flushed as he was introduced to each new face.
"And what's your name? Surely it's not 'boy' now is it?"
Harry shook his head. "Harry," he whispered.
"Well Harry, how about we join the others, what do you say?" William smiled down at him. Harry nodded, still feeling a bit shocked, and was led up the stairs alongside the Grangers.
"You wanna do stretches with me?" Hermione asked him. Harry nodded eagerly, his hair bouncing into his eyes as he did so and accidentally knocking his glasses off. William laughed as he picked them up for him and handed them back.
"You may want to be more careful with those." Harry thanked him and pocketed his glasses carefully. He waited beside Hermione for the kind woman, who turned out to be Miss Miranda, their dancing instructor, to begin their very first lesson.
Harry pocketed his glasses as he took his favorite spot near the window; it offered a great view of the city and he could see all of the traffic and people walking about as he looked down from the second floor windows. He and Hermione always took that spot for themselves.
He blinked a few times, trying to get used to the sudden blurriness of his surroundings. Harry found it wasn't a very good idea to dance with his glasses on, as they often went flying off during routines. Though it wasn't exactly easy to dance without clear vision, it was a feat he had managed to master through many years of practice and determination. Hermione had once suggested contact lenses, but Harry dismissed that idea. He wouldn't be able to afford it and he didn't want to impose on the Grangers anymore than he already did. He still owed them a great deal for all of the lessons they paid for.
"All right children, get into pairs please," Miss Miranda said as she walked into the room later than usual. Harry smiled in triumph knowing that he had made it here before the teacher, therefore meaning that he was not late.
Miss Miranda set her radio down on one of the wooden benches provided near the door and took off her sweatshirt. She turned to the class with a big smile on her face, her blue eyes sparkling and her dark hair tied up in a tight bun.
"Good news class!" she started off. Everyone in the room grew anxious; usually when Miss Miranda said 'good news' it was followed by a painful and difficult new routine she had thought up. While that was always exciting in its own right, it usually meant at least one of them would be going home with a broken something. They all waited with bated breath to see what she had to say this time.
"I was able to get us a spot at the Melodrama Theater for the Christmas performances this November," she continued on. Everyone released the breath they had been holding and started chattering in excitement.
"The bad news," she continued on, successfully silencing the room again. "Not everyone can perform. I will need to pick the best two partner dancers I have."
"Only two? But who will you pick?"
"I haven't decided yet. I will be observing practices very intently to see who is working the hardest and has improved the most. I will let you know of my decision in a week."
Harry looked at Hermione and he could see the excitement dancing around in her eyes. He knew this meant trouble for him; Hermione was a very…enthusiastic partner and loved perfection in every routine they did together. He knew she was going to get one of those spots even if it killed them.
"Now that we've got that out of the way, get into formation people!" Miss Miranda said as she clapped her hands together. "We've got a rough practice today and I'm positive all of you will be feeling it tomorrow." Everyone smiled nervously at this announcement but did as they were told anyway.
Harry made his way home that evening, his legs and feet throbbing painfully and his throat stinging from thirst. He had run out of water halfway through the practice and tried, but failed, to wrestle some out of Hermione. Harry had then come to the conclusion that that girl was too strong for her own good.
The heavy pedestrian traffic from earlier that day had died down quite a bit and Harry found it much easier to trek his way home without all of the hustle and bustle. He kept his hands in his jacket pocket and his bag safely secured over his shoulder. He had decided to walk home barefoot that day as well; he didn't think his swollen feet would fit back into his sneakers and he really didn't want to go through with the pain. The sidewalk was, thankfully enough, not very hot that day so it was relatively easy to walk without shoes. All he had to do was watch out for broken shards of glass that often littered the streets on this side of the city.
It was a good mile and a half from the dance studio to his house. Hermione offered to walk with him but he waved it off and told her to go with her parents. She didn't like the thought of him walking through the city alone, but Harry argued that it was broad daylight with plenty of people out. Nothing was going to happen to him. And it wasn't like he was a helpless girl; he knew how to defend himself in case the need to ever arose.
He watched the nameless people pass by in a blur of pressed suits and briefcases, all in a hurry to be somewhere important. Quite a few were blabbering away to the people walking with them, checking their watches, hailing down taxi cabs and generally doing everything faster than necessary. But as he did so, he noticed one particular person who seemed out of place with the rest of the rush; he was moving slower than the others and his clothes weren't neat or pressed, but ragged and worn. His shoulders were hunched over and Harry could make out light blonde hair falling from the hood that was pulled up over the boy's head. He could recognize that hair from anywhere.
It was that boy from the market the other day; the one who had been looking at him in an odd manner. Harry didn't think the boy looked particularly dangerous, but one could never be too sure in a city like this. Just to be on the safe side, Harry quickly crossed to the other side of the street before the boy could notice him.
He watched as the boy walked on from his side of the street. He hadn't noticed Harry; which didn't surprise Harry one bit. The boy's eyes were fixed on the ground, so he doubted the boy noticed anything besides his own feet. Harry turned his head around as he walked so he could continue to watch the boy until he disappeared into the crowd. Shaking his head, he turned back and continued to walk home.
'What a strange kid,' he thought to himself.
About fifteen minutes later, Harry found himself unlocking the door to the small, one story house he shared with his uncle and cousin. He shut the door behind him and placed his keys on the table beside the door. Setting his bag down, he looked around and listened for any signs that might indicate that his uncle or cousin might be home.
He heard the low murmuring of the television from the living room, which meant that his cousin was surely in there. Walking as quietly as possible past the living room, Harry made his way down the hallway toward the bathroom. He passed his uncle's bedroom as he did so, noticing that the door was ajar. Peaking inside, he saw his uncle sitting on his bed with his head buried in his hands; he didn't seem to notice the small boy at his door. Harry decided to leave the man alone and backed away quietly.
He walked down to the bathroom, which was the door just opposite to his own room. He closed the door behind him and locked it. Once behind the closed door, he leaned against it and ran a hand through his hair. His uncle had been like that ever since his aunt had died years before; his uncle had lost his job and they moved to this part of the city. It was more dangerous but definitely cheaper. He wasn't exactly sure what his uncle did for most of the day seeing as Harry did anything he could to get out of the house for as long as possible; he had the feeling most of what the man did involved a lot of drinking. The empty brandy bottles everywhere was proof enough of that, as was the fact that the house seemed to be trashed every time Harry came home, as if the man had destroyed the place in a drunken rage. Harry always found it his job to clean up after the man; not that his uncle ever took notice.
Harry pushed himself away from the door and over to the shower; he reached over and turned the hot water knob until steam filled the tiny room. He then went over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. Raising a hand, he gingerly prodded his cheek, wincing as it aggravated the hidden bruise. Harry had taken to wearing a little makeup to cover up the bruises he would occasionally get from his uncle's rages. It worked perfectly because neither Hermione nor anyone else ever seemed to notice them.
Harry then pulled off the small faded black shirt he had worn that day, revealing the delicate chain with a tiny angel pendant hanging from it that was hanging around his neck. He fingered the tiny angel as he looked at his reflection; it was the only possession of his of his mother's that he had and he treasured it more than anything else he owned. He had had it ever since he could remember and had never once taken it off.
Pulling off the sweats he had worn that day as well, Harry removed his glasses and stepped into the steaming shower. He let a sigh of pleasure as the heated water rolled across his aching muscles. He rolled his neck around and let the water beat down on his sore body. He didn't care what his uncle or anybody else said. Dancing was not a sissy sport; it required amazing amounts of strength, endurance, agility and determination. It was not for the weak. It also provided Harry with ways to vent out pent up emotions and allowed his mind to be taken up by other things than his troubles for once.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the shower wall and tried to empty his mind; it seemed to have been working reasonably well until the image of a lone boy walking defeated down the city streets entered his mind. Snapping his eyes open, Harry wondered why he had remembered that boy at that moment of all things.
'I guess he just intrigues me, that's all,' Harry thought as he turned off the water and stepped from the shower, shivering slightly as the cool air met his flushed skin. 'I'll probably never see him again anyway.'
With that, Harry got dressed quickly, not bothering to dry his hair, and went to his bedroom. His body was just begging for a good nights rest and that's what he intended to give it.
He quickly walked across the way to his room and closed the door behind him. His bedroom was the smallest in the house and about the barest too. It only had a single mattress on the floor in the corner to serve as his bed. There was a little window just above the mattress that gave just enough lighting for his room. Harry was thankful that he did not have to spend very many nights in this tiny room; Hermione's house was pretty much his home and he spent most nights there. He came to this house every so often just to make it seem like he actually had a real family to come home to. It wasn't really necessary but he did it anyway.
Crawling onto the small mattress, Harry flexed his arms and then rested them behind his head as he looked out the small window at the few stars visible against the night sky. It wasn't long before he eventually drifted off into a light slumber.
Author's Note: Hi people! Here's chapter two. I worked all day on it even though I am absolutely exhausted from my trip to Los Angeles for treatments. Remember, I do not have the original documents anymore so I am writing this plot mostly from memory. So, as a result, there will be changes and things that you didn't see in the original TDA. Oddly enough, the chapters ARE longer than the original too. I hope you enjoy that :)
Creature of the Dark is still on hold; TDA should be easier to finish writing than that story, so I'm gonna finish this first.
And I am amazed at you guys. Ten reviews for the first chapter of this story? I was floored at your awesomeness. I didn't think I would get that many for an old story!