Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: Book 2
Ch. 3 Letters From Hogwarts
This is going to be a last minute chapter that I decided to write on the 23rd of December as a Christmas present to you, the reader.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Words inside this ~ example~ are either authors notes or time skip explanations
The escape of the Brazilian Boa constrictor had earned Harry the second longest punishment he had ever had to endure, second only to last year when Crow had fed the Dursley's laxatives and made Him the fall guy.
The allotted time spent in his cupboard gave the young Potter a renewed drive to learn and to try, with many bumps on the head, to exercise in his bunk. Thankfully none of the Dursley's ever bothered to check what the sound of Harry accidentally hitting his head was.
Dudley, in the mean time, broke his new video camera and crashed his remote controlled helicopter. He also happened to run over poor old Mrs. Figg as she crutched across the street on his new racing bike.
Once Harry finally got his freedom back he was very glad he had kept active in his captivity, because Dudley's gang had decided to join in one of the tubby boy's favorite games: Harry hunting.
In former years these little games had been the source of great anxiety for Harry, but since Mark had taught him how to fight last summer… well things were more even planed.
Despite his new fighting ability, Harry still felt more joy in wandering the town than sticking around for a fight.
Also, even though he did have friends for some reason they hadn't been around. Mark was never at the park anymore and Harry didn't know were he lived exactly and Justin always seemed so busy with his summer sports and other activities his parents made him do so he could be accepted into a promising secondary school.
Oh yes and there was that. One of the greatest insecurities that plagued Harry's mind these days was the fact that all his friends seemed to have a bright future where he was destined for mediocrity.
Justin's stepparents worked in the same firm as Mr. Dursley, so money wasn't much of a money issue for them. As for Mark, well… he was a foreigner in England, so for all Harry knew he could have gone back to America without telling him.
No.
Mark wouldn't have just leave he would have said something, but that was beside the point.
Dudley of course had gotten into Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings. Carter had gotten in there too, though that wasn't a big surprise. Carter's dad was richer than Vernon by far.
Evidently the only reason that Vernon liked having Carter around wasn't because he was a polite lad or anything like, but more because having Dudley befriend someone with a powerful dad had done wonders for his career.
Harry, on the other hand, was going to be forced to go to Stonewall academy, the local public school. Dudley told Harry about how the new students had their heads dunked in the toilets; he offered to practice with Harry.
Harry simply replied, "I don't think the toilet would appreciate something as foul as your head being put in it". He ran away before Dudley figured out what he meant.
One morning Harry came into the kitchen to discover Petunia mixing a pot that stank awfully like cabbage.
Dudley, meanwhile, was devouring some food and wearing his new burgundy Smelting's uniform. Harry kept his distance as his cousin brandished the rather large stick that came with the uniform.
"What on earth is in that pot?" the young Potter asked as he took his seat near the door.
"Oh, I didn't hear you come in", Petunia said with a scrunched up look on her face as if she had smelled something terrible, and Harry had a felling it wasn't directed at what she was stirring, "This is some of Dudley's old clothes that I'm dyeing for you to wear at stonewall".
"But he's twice my size! It'll never fit!" Harry exclaimed.
He thought about how it was going to look like he was wearing old bits of elephant skin. That would put a damper on his socializing.
"It'll fit fine once it's been tailored a bit", the frugal women spat back.
At that moment Vernon walked in and sat next to his son and wrinkled his nose just as his wife did. They all heard the familiar flop of letters landing on the front stoop. The mail had arrived.
Mark woke up at the usual time, five a.m. He ate a usual breakfast of some porridge and one slice of orange (Snape was quite cheap when it came to food). He had a normal morning workout in the safety of the back yard.
The young Dumbledore almost walked to the park to wait for Harry, but the words Caine had given him last year echoed in his head.
"Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you might be the reason Harry is under such great danger now when he hasn't been in any for the past eight years?" the doctor explained, "When the Foe Glass shows no more enemies it will be best for you to keep your distance and defend from the shadows"
(A.N. that probably isn't copied to the best quality from last book, but you get the idea)
Instead the young boy moped around the house for a couple of hours before his surrogate guardian woke up.
Snape tended to enjoy his sleep, or at least Mark assumed that. In truth, the potions master kept himself very cloistered off in his room. He only came out to eat, collect the mail, and yell at Mark.
Luckily for Mark, it was mail time.
A couple months ago Mark used to duck in cover whenever an owl entered the house to deliver it's mail, given that American wizards had long since abandoned the practice, but now it was just a normal part of the morning.
A rather large owl swooped down and dropped an even larger package of letters.
That was odd; Snape didn't have any friends that would write to him. Mark decided to test the professor's patience and ask about it.
The young boy sat next to Snape, whom was reading the daily prophet at the end of their dining table, and spoke up, "Um… sir, why do you have so much mail today? I don't mean to intrude, but I've lived here for nearly a year now and I've never seen more than a single letter at one time."
Snape snapped down his paper with a quick twist of his wrist, moaned at the sight of the pile, then lifted his paper back to his eye line.
"Well, boy, if you must know it happens to be my least favorite day of the year, letter delivery day", the potions master replied with more than a hint of annoyance.
Mark on the other hand seemed fairly excited about this and instantly reached for the letters, but Severus cast windardi leviosa, making the package out of reach.
"What was that for? Shouldn't I have a letter in that bunch?" the young Dumbledore asked with noticeable frustration.
Snape sneered slightly at the boys discomfort then answered him with his own set of questions, "How much do you know about British magical parliament?"
"Uhhh…" Mark hesitated, "I was never really told anything about the British government or even my own government for that matter. The top brass told me this would help me keep my cover, you know 'ignorance is bliss' and all that".
"Heh", the potions master laughed, "You really believe that don't you?"
"Why wouldn't I?" the boy said back, "They've never lied to me before, why should I doubt them now. The things I did learn about magic, like basic theory and other such things, have proved invaluable in the last couple months".
Severus's face curled a bit as if he was trying not to laugh. Given it was Snape giving the face it was quite terrifying.
"Well if you really want to know why I must ask, who other than myself and I few deranged morons, knows that you're a foreign agent in Britain?" the man asked.
"Um… well the minister of magic is one, I think, and the chief warlock of the Wizengamot", Mark said as he thought aloud, "What does that have to do with anything?"
Snape smirked, "Well as it turns out, the chief warlock is also the headmaster of Hogwarts".
"What does this have to do with me not being able to get my letter?" the boy asked.
Snape hit him on the back of his head, "You of all people should know about people not wanting your name known".
Mark cocked his head to the side, "If this guy is as important as you say then why bother trying to hide his name, everyone already knows".
"You don't and that's the point. He wants it to be a surprise when you find out who he is", the potions master said with a smirk.
"Well I can take a look at one of the others can't I?" Mark said as he stood on his chair to reach the letters.
"Tut, tut Mark", the professor said as he moved the letters to the other side of the room.
The boy flailed his arms to stop himself from falling over because overreaching his target.
"What was that for?" the young American exclaimed.
"I can't just have you going directly against the person who signs my pay under my watch", Snape smirked and drew his wand and pointed at the package. He cast a spell Mark had never heard before and set the letters back on the table, "Now you won't be able to read the name of the Headmaster even if you do get an unhampered with letter".
Mark grunted in defiance, but then simply sighed in submission.
"Fine, then can I have my altered letter", he said with low spirits.
"Why of course you can, whelp", his professor replied.
Snape pointed his wand at the pile once more and this time two letters leaped out of the middle of the pile and straight into Mark's hands.
"Why are there two?" he asked.
"Simple", the potions master replied, "You're going to be making the delivery for Little Whinging for me".
"How can I convince someone that he is a wizard when I can't perform magic?" Mark asked.
"Another simple answer", Snape smirked, "You've already convinced this individual that he is a wizard".
"Dudley get the mail", Vernon said.
"Make Harry get it!" the round boy whined.
"Harry get the mail", Vernon replied.
"Make Dudley get it", Harry muttered right back.
"Hit him with your Smelting's stick son", the man ordered to his son.
The plumper cousin reached out to hit with his stick as the thinner dodged. The wood missed Harry's face by a fraction of an inch.
The boy who lived muttered quiet absentees about his uncle's parenting methods as he left the room.
He sighed, reaching down for the usual pile of junk mail with the occasional personal letter. Harry read some titles 'save money on car insurance now!' 'You've won an all-expense paid trip to the Bahamas!' (Most likely a scam) A letter addressed from Harry's aunt Marge (Imagine Vernon in a dress and wig without the mustache… actually keep the mustache). Lastly a letter addressed to… Mr. H Potter?
Now this had to be a mistake or something. Well… on the other hand, far weirder things have happened to him so why should a letter be that odd?
The boy plopped all the letters on the table except for the one that was addressed to him of course.
He looked at the address to see it went even further than his name. To be precise, it was addressed to Mr. H Potter, The Cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
It couldn't be a fake, everything was to exact. If Harry had learned one thing in the past year of facing constant dangers it was how to tell something that was genuine from a fake.
"Look dad! Harry's got a letter", Dudley screamed out of nowhere.
Time to run.
"Get over here you little maggot!" Vernon growled as he got up from his seat, "Now who would be writing to a little whelp like you?"
Harry was backtracking out of the room as quickly as he could, his cupboard was open perhaps if his reflexes moved fast enough he could lock the door and keep things from getting aggressive.
Then Vernon spied the odd-looking insignia that the young Potter had previously ignored. The fat man let out a beastly howl after seeing the wax stamp and charged faster than anyone his size should ever be able to.
Before there was anything he could do, Vernon had grabbed Harry in a killer bear hug and was slowly crushing him.
With gritted teeth and a crazy expression, the fat oath spoke, "Give me the letter boy".
"No, it's addressed to me", the boy who lived replied. However, despite his best efforts there was he could do against someone Vernon's size.
Slowly the boy's grip began to slack while Vernon's tightened a bit. In one last burst of strength, Harry's uncle knocked the wind out of him and the child dropped the letter.
Thus began a two weeklong war between Potter and Dursley that would inevitably end in the loss of Mr. Dursley's sanity.
Once things in the kitchen calmed down and Dudley was sent on his way, Vernon and Petunia began to discuss what this mysterious omen of a letter might mean.
"Vernon", Petunia began with a quiver in her voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they are watching the house, do you?"
"Watching… spying… might be following us… definitely were the ones the bust up your flowers last week. Seems like just the sort of juvenile thing that these sort of miscreants would get up to", Vernon said.
The young boy who they had not ushered out of the room silently laughed at the fat man's last statement. He had actually wrecked that particular patch of tulips in order to plant his own patch of cabbage, but after being locked inside his cupboard he never was able to finish.
"What are we going to do Vernon?" Mrs. Dursley pleaded to hr husband.
It was slowly becoming obvious that something was going on and Harry wanted to know what. Well… either that or the two adults had finally gone off the deep end of the mental slope.
"We need to just wait and see. Nothing they can stop us from keeping that kind out of our home", Vernon muttered with a tense tone.
"What if they send more letters? We can't stop all of them, can we?" Petunia said back.
Vernon grunted something with a quiet voice, probably a curse of some kind. Then he began walking out of the room.
"Vernon, what are we going to do!" his wife yelled frantically.
The fat man turned back, "Whatever necessary to keep one of them from entering our home."
After that rather brisk exchange of nerves, Harry left the kitchen and went to his cupboard. It was time to plan things.
There were things he could do in situations such as this that surely someone of Vernon's demeanor would not be able to counter.
He had pondered just asking for a letter, but after that incredibly seen of stress, he feared that if he did ask the conversation would most likely end with Harry covered in bruises.
Besides, it isn't even worth the risk to directly confront the master of the house given Harry had already decided upon a rather elegant solution. He just needed to wake up incredibly early and wait for the letter to be dropped by the mailman.
After all, even though Vernon's job hours are from nine to five, Harry had never seen him awake before eight-thirty and the mail arrived at six in the morning.
Yes, and his cupboard were right across from the front door. This would work, or so he thought until something unexpected, and admittedly creepy, happened.
"Potter! Come out here!" the old oath himself called out.
This was unexpected; usually they left him alone and tried to pretend he didn't exist. It wasn't a terrible system either, the Dursley's could act like they had a perfect life and Harry could pretend he wasn't constantly abused physically and mentally.
"Now Potter!" Vernon continued.
"Oh well", the boy thought to himself, "I suppose there isn't anything I can do."
The boy who lived walked out and saw the scariest thing he had seen in a long time, a Vernon that seemed happy to see him.
Now this may not be such a bad thing if the man had looked normal, but the fact remained that he did not in the slightest.
For the first thing, Mr. Dursley had a smile that seemed so forced that it might literally be hurting him, secondly he wasn't looking at Harry like a man looks at a convicted rapist. The man had a look in his eyes so insane that the only thing Harry could relate it to was one Phillip Crow.
"Yes… erm… about this cupboard. Your – um, Aunt and I have come to decide that – uh – this cupboard is a bit too snug for you and… um… we think it is about time that you move up to the other bedroom, that is Dudley's other bedroom", Vernon said in a tone that was so utterly happy that Harry didn't know whether to scream and run away or cheer for joy.
Instead he just nodded silently.
"Uh, good", Mr. Dursley said, "Then grab your belongings and Dudley clear out his other things."
The rest of the day went by rather smoothly, Harry got a new room in which he might finally exercise a bit without bumping his head every two seconds. Honestly, the fact that he could even manage a push-up in that crawlspace was a miracle in it's own right.
Harry then continued to stash his more personal belongings that the Dursley's never see. This included all the academic books the young boy pilfered from the schools trash in order to feed his ever expanding curiosity and the crystal ball Mark had given him last summer right after they first met.
These were hidden underneath a small pile of clothes in one of the boxes that Vernon had brought to carry things around.
It also appeared that the nice streak the fat man had been in ended as soon as it began, he didn't even bother carrying a single box.
Non-the less, the move was completed in only a few trips, mostly because there were so few things to carry in the first place.
Now it was a waiting game. Needless to say, being on the second floor would make it harder to sneak off to get the mail early next morning, but hopefully Dudley's whining about losing his second room would be quiet tiring for his parents too much for them to notice Harry.
Early that night the boy who lived slept. His alarm clock set for early next morning.
~Several hours pass in which nothing of general interest happens~
At five-thirty on the dot Harry woke in silence and dressed with equal discipline.
The walk down stairs was peaceful, but something felt wrong.
The young Potter made his way to the front door and stopped as he stepped on something squishy. It was to dark to see who or what it was, but it was alive.
He quickly jumped backwards as he figure rose out of his sleeping bag to reveal a grinning Vernon.
"Well, well", the man said with devious glee, "Thought you were going to get the slip on me did you? Not this man, oh no. Now go make me some tea and I might forgive the fact that you just stepped on my face."
Vernon did not forgive the face stomping, but instead locked Harry away for several hours. The young boy could smell the scent of burning parchment coming from the fireplace.
~The next day~
Harry arose to find once again that letters had arrived and once again Vernon was burning them. This time an entire stack had appeared to be mailed this time.
After the fireplace was long empty, the master of the house had another devious grin on his face, except this time it was full of nails that he was using to seal off the mail slot.
~The next day… again~
This morning the letters had somehow made there way into the two-dozen eggs that Petunia kept in the fridge. She only discovered the fact that her breakfast goods had been tampered with when she tried to cook them.
Another letter popped out of the toaster.
Harry got a hold of it long enough to see the address had changed to the smallest room of number 4 Privet drive.
After that had been stolen from him, he occupied his time by watching the owls pass by and pondering how odd his life was becoming again.
~The next day after that, which was a Sunday by the way~
This morning the Dursley family was in the best mood they had been in all week. By the way Vernon was smiling anyone could tell that.
This wasn't a creepy, I'm screaming on the inside smile, either. In fact it was completely legitimate.
Harry sat at his usual spot in the kitchen as Mr. Dursley began to speak, "Ah, Sunday. Wonderful day, Sunday, in my opinion it's best day of the week. Anyone know why? Dudley?"
The plump boy looked up from his feeding trough, - er – um- plate, with a completely blank look on his face. He quickly looked back down and continued suckling his plate.
"Because there is no post on Sunday", Harry began, "Am I right, sir?"
"Right you are Harry", the man said with another big smile, "No bloody letters today, not one letter! Not One Bloody Letter!"
No sooner had he finished his rant did letter upon letter come pouring in threw the windows. Then they came threw the chimney and even busted through the sealed mail slot. After that it seemed every opening in the entire house was spewing letters.
Petunia screamed and a stream of letters coming from the window knocked down Dudley. Harry, on the other hand, was quickly on the move searching for a letter to grab.
He finally managed to grab a letter out of the ones that swirled in the hurricane in front of him. Vernon saw this, of course, and tried to grab Harry in a half-baked attempt to steal the letter.
"Give me that letter!" Mr. Dursley yelled.
"No!" The young Potter yelled, "There mine! There my letters!"
Dudley got up and spoke, "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?"
Petunia looked in shock at the scene unfolding in front of her as her son said the most intelligent thing she had ever heard him say.
The scene eventually was cleared up after Harry was locked back into the cupboard; given it was the only place the letters couldn't reach.
When he emerged he found that bags had been packed and the car was running. They were going to be leaving immediately.
~The events that followed that Sunday led the Dursley's through several uncomfortable places including, but not limited to- a dirty motel, an open field, hours of car travel. These events are of little importance other than the fact that they further drive Vernon off the brink of sanity. When the story resumes, it is late Monday evening on a shack in the middle of the sea during a large storm and Harry is counting down the time until he turns eleven~
Five minutes to go and Harry heard a creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to cave in, that would kind of put a damper on things. No pun intended given it was raining quite vigorously outside.
Four minutes to go. Perhaps the house on Privet drive was so full of letters that he could grab one without anyone noticing.
Three minutes to go. Was that the see slapping on he rock so hard?
Two minutes to go and what on Earth was that crunching noise? Was this whole bloody rock about to fall into the ocean?"
One minute until Harry turns eleven. Thirty seconds… twenty… ten… nine – maybe he'd wake Dudley to annoy him – three… two… one…
BOOM
The shack shook and Harry immediately jumped into attention. Someone was at the door and there was no way he was going to be killed by some psycho this night, not after what he had gone through!
~Meanwhile back in the Bat Cave- Er, I mean Justin's house (It's the first morning again BTW)~
"Ah Mark, always a pleasure when you come to visit, but you rarely do come to visit do you?" Justin began with a smirk, "Let me take a wild guess, Harry is being stalked by a wild mutt and we need to stop it. Oh and we can't be seen or the world might implode."
"Hey! Don't joke about that mutt thing, that actually happened once", Mark said, reflecting on his past experiences with the dreaded hellhound, Atticus the wolf.
"Did the world implode?" Justin asked.
"No, bu-"
"Then we can joke all we want to", Justin said, being as angsty as ever, "Now what important mission do you have for us today? I trust it is something more exciting than the infamous petting zoo assignment."
Mark looked at his friend. He would have been annoyed, but what the young American had learned earlier this morning was more exciting than anything that had happened in a long time.
"Sadly, I have nothing of the sort for you this day, but what I am holding behind my back will bring far more joy than any boring old reconnaissance job that for all extensive purposes you shouldn't even know about", the Dumbledore boy said with a smirk of his own.
After those words left the younger boys lips, the older began clawing at the younger ones arms to find out what secret they contained. Eventually he gave in to the fact that Mark wasn't giving up.
"Okay, what do you have for me that will make me so happy. I don't suppose it might be anything to help me from the eminent threat of that William Grey person coming back for my silver amulet?" The older boy said as he showed the dagger shape from under his shirt.
"Well… funny you should ask really", Mark said as he pulled out the letter and shoved it into his friends face.
"Calm down mate, lets not be pocking things at my eyes", Justin said as he opened the envelope and began to read aloud, "Hmm lets see what is so important about this letter. Dear Mr. Burnaby, we are pleased to inform you that you have accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
At that point he dropped the paper on the ground and stared at Mark, his mouth wide open and his eyes full of suspicion.
"Please tell me if this is a joke or not right now or I may have to kill you", the older boy said in utter awe.
Mark let out a laugh, "No need to be so suspicious, old Severus got the Hogwarts letters for muggle borns today. He's going to be out delivering all day while I received my letter directly from the owl's beak. That is indeed a legitimate acceptance letter. Now I don't suppose your parents are here? They need to see this letter."
"Of course, right this way", Justin said as he cloistered Mark inside.
The Burnaby residence was one of the nicer places in Little Whinging, they happened to actually be right down the street from the Drake mansion. The interior was spacious and filled expensive furnishings that were perfectly organized.
The whole place made the American feel his home at Snape's place was even shoddier than he previously conceived.
"Mom! Dad! My friend Mark is here and we have something to show you!" Justin yelled out towards the den, were two adults could be seen watching television on a rather large set, "It's lucky you came today Mark, both my parents are leaving on separate business trips tomorrow. Well at least this way they won't have to worry about my safety anymore."
The two children walked right around the television and presented themselves before Mr. and Mrs. Burnaby. The two both had dark brown hair, but the Mr. had brown eyes were as the Mrs. Had blue. Mr. Burnaby was heavy set, but he was also so tall that you barley noticed his thick waistline. On the contrary, his wife was very short and extremely thin.
"What is it son?" Justin's stepfather said in a deep, baritone voice.
"Yes, what is it?" his mother said in a slightly squeaky voice.
Their son cleared his throat and spoke, "Do you recall when I tried to explain to you about magic and everything?"
At that statement Mark gave Justin a look that said What the Hell. The adult Burnabys just chuckled a bit though.
"Oh yes, Justin", his father replied, "I remember all about the big bad explosions and the flying broom and that wacky school, Hogpimple, or something you mentioned."
"Sir, if I might intrude on this discussion?" Mark asked bluntly.
"Ah, very polite. You may speak young man" ,Mr. Burnaby answered.
"Well, for starters, the name of the school is Hogwarts. Secondly magic is real and I'm going prove for the sole reason that I have brought the acceptance letter for your son to go to said school", Mark said confident that this would leave them dumbstruck.
Instead the pair of adults laughed bluntly at the boy.
Justin put his mouth to his hand and made a side comment to Mark, "Um… my parents tend to only believe what they can see."
The young American sighed and pulled out his broom, which had a shrinking charm placed on it for easy access. He continued to expand it right in front of their faces and proceeded to use it to hover off the ground.
This did leave Justin's parents dumbstruck.
"Uh, what do we have to do to help?" Mr. Burnaby asked.
"All you have to do is divert the money you were going to use on sending Justin to that fancy boarding school to a wizard bank called Gringotts, I have the information right here", Mark said as he passed the Brunabys a piece of parchment, "I suppose I will take care of the rest."
Man it took forever to write this chapter. I got a new ps3 for Christmas, enough said. Please comment and all that.
