There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother. ~Astrid Alauda
July 21, 1991
There was a hush about the house, no one daring to say a word. Hermione sat on her bed, staring out the window. A lone tear rolled down her cheek.
The funeral had been dreary, to say the least. Rainy, black, and depressing were the words that came to everyone's minds. Though Harry had never officially met Emily, he still felt a slow, gnawing pain travel up his throat as he watched her body lower into the ground. Aunt Petunia had been a mess, sobbing through the entire service(Harry was shocked to realize that maybe, just maybe, she had a heart), and even Uncle Vernon seemed a bit subdued.
Harry sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, watching her sadly. Her one chance of ever escaping Privet Drive was gone, along with her favorite cousin. She didn't seem to notice his presence, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.
"'Mione?" He said quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest. She jumped, then turned to face him, her eyes puffy and red.
"I…why don't you come down for tea? Aunt Petunia is making some biscuits. Chocolate chip, your favorite…" She nodded, standing, and the two walked down the stairs, silent. A delicious scent wafted through the air, pulling them to the drawing room. Hermione sat on the floor, next to the fireplace, Harry being called(ever-so-slightly less demandingly) to serve tea. As everyone sipped on their mugs and munched on biscuits(everyone except Harry, of course. Hermione had stashed a few in her pocket to give him later.) the tell-tale sound of mail being pushed through the slot come to their ears. Without raising his voice too much, Uncle Vernon demanded that Harry("You there, boy!") retrieve it for them.
The skinny, dark-haired boy did as he told, picking up the small stack of letters. He lazily flipped through them, taking his time to walk back to where the family sat. He was about to reenter the drawing room when two envelopes caught his eye. They were thick and aged, and very wonderfully smooth, and written on the front of both of them in a beautiful, emerald green script were the words Mr. H. Potter and Ms. H. Granger.
Harry stared at them in shock, hands shaking as he entered the room. Handing the rest of the mail to Uncle Vernon, he sat back down next to Hermione, handing her the letter with her name on it. She gave him a curious look, then started examining the letter. Unfortunately, Dudley decided to take that moment to pay attention to his cousins.
"Mum, why do they have letters? I want a letter!" He said in his loud, obnoxious voice. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, wondering what to say.
"They have our names on them. They're ours," Harry was the first to speak up, clenching the envelope tightly in his hands. Uncle Vernon snorted, snatching it from his grip.
"No bloody likely…" He muttered, turning it over to open. Aunt Petunia looked over his shoulder, gasping. Quicker than Harry had ever seen her, she pulled the second letter from Hermione's grip, showing it to the large, beefy man. They looked at each other, almost in a frightened way, then Uncle Vernon shouted, "Out! All of you, out!" Harry was quite literally thrown from the room, Hermione and Dudley following rapidly. While Harry and Dudley dueled it out for the best listening spot, Hermione peeked through the keyhole, watching her uncle and aunt argue in whispers.
"They're coming for him, Vernon! What do we do?"
"Nothing. We burn the letters and forget all about this."
"But what of the girl? She's one of them? How can this be? Your sister was normal. She was a dentist, for heaven's sake! How could the girl be like them?"
"I don't know. But I cannot stand to have another one of those under my roof." Uncle Vernon's voice was getting louder, angrier.
"Vernon, it's too late to get rid of her now. Emily is dead, and it would look sketchy to send her to an orphanage this far into raising her."
"Hmph." Uncle Vernon seemed to be done with the conversation, and started munching on another biscuit. Harry, who had been kneeling on the ground, listening, looked at Hermione, who was frozen to the spot. He grabbed her arm, leading the small girl back to her room. As soon as he closed the door, the burst out talking.
"What does he mean they? Who's coming for me?"
"Get rid of me? They want to get rid of me?!?"
A silence filled the room, the Harry said, "I wont let them get rid of you. Never, ever in a million years will I let that happen."
She nodded, smiling a little, then said, "But who mailed us? I don't think I've ever seen Uncle Vernon so scared in my life."
The next couple of days were strained, to say the least. With each group of letters that showed up(some even rolled up in the eggs Aunt Petunia cracked open to make breakfast with), the darker and more prominent the purple little vein in Uncle Vernon's neck became. Hermione tended to keep to her room, or outside, and Harry stuck with her, both afraid of their Uncle's temper. On occasion, Harry tried to snag one of the letters when his relative weren't looking, but someone always caught him, and burned the letters quickly.
It was a week and a day later, exactly during tea-time, when Uncle Vernon lost it. Harry was passing around biscuits, when his uncle smiled wickedly. Turning to his son, he asked, in almost a sing-song voice, "Dudley, do you know what day it is?"
The boy strained himself, face turning a slight pink before answering, "Er…Sunday?"
Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed, grin widening. "Yes. Sunday, a good day. Do you know why Sundays are so nice?"
Dudley shrugged, and Harry looked down, afraid of what his uncle might say. It was Hermione, though, who answered. "There's no post on Sundays."
"That's right! There's no post on Sundays. No letters today, no sir-ee. Not one, bloody let-" Before he could finish, an envelope flew out of the fireplace, grazing his head by an inch. The room was silent, dumbfounded, then-
"AHH!" A million letters poured through the fireplace, knocking Dudley from his spot on the loveseat. Aunt Petunia shrieked, ducking under the coffee table for cover. Harry jumped up and grabbed a letter, he and Hermione running from the room. Uncle Vernon caught up to them quickly, though.
He yanked Hermione back by the collar of her dress, ignoring her shrieks as he accidentally tugged her hair, too. Harry ran towards the cupboard, only to be tackled right at the door. Uncle Vernon wrestled the letter from his grip, standing up, victoriously.
"Everyone, pack your bags. We are leaving first thing in the morning." He walked up the stairs, but not before locking Harry in the cupboard.
Aunt Petunia looked ready to faint, holding on to Dudley for support. "But where are we going, Vernon?"
His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Away. Far away. Where they'll never find us."
Harry was packed ten minutes after waking up the next morning. He only owned a few articles of clothing, a toothbrush, and a few of the gifts Hermione had given him in the past years. It was hard to find gifts when you didn't receive an allowance and weren't allowed out of the neighborhood(or at times, the house) except for school. Yet, they still managed to find something to give each other for Christmas and Birthdays, even if it was a bit unconventional.
One year, she had given him a candy bar she had nicked from Dudley(he hadn't noticed). It was the first time he had ever had chocolate. Another year, he had given her a book he made himself. It was about a young boy and girl who were whisked from their horrible relatives' house to a magical castle where they lived and made friends and lived happily ever after. Harry knew she still carried around the construction-paper oddity in her pocket; it gave her hope of one day escaping.
But the best present Hermione had ever given him was a picture. They had made frames in art class, and since neither of them had any artistic ability, they ended up throwing away their creations. But, as Harry learned later, Hermione went back in at Recess every day(instead of to the library where she normally hung out) and worked with the teacher to make a beautiful frame for Harry's present.
It was red, Harry's favorite color, with gold stars decorating the border. On the top, written in a beautiful cursive(done by the teacher) were the words Brother and Sister. In it was one of the rare photos of Harry and Hermione, a Polaroid taken by the art teacher during class. Harry's hair was sticking up everywhere( more than usual), red streaks painting across his face. His hand was outstretched, trying to dab some paint on Hermione, who was laughing and leaning away, quite unaware of the pink feathers he had already stuck in her bushy hair.
He packed it, wrapped in an old t-shirt of Dudley's. Though he knew he didn't need it, he had the overwhelming feeling that he would not be returning to Number Four, Privet Drive anytime soon. He packed the rest of the gifts(a book on how airplanes flew, a poem she had written, and a brush to try to tame his hair with) into his school backpack on top of his clothes, then went upstairs to help Hermione with her stuff.
Though generally more liked by the Dursley's than Harry, Hermione had almost as few personal possessions as Harry did. She still had(and read religiously) the book of fairytales he had given her for Christmas a few years before, and the book he made her out of construction paper. Besides that, she had a few dresses, some pants and shirts, a toothbrush, hairbrush, some books of Dudley's that he had never opened and she had loved, and a few more books Harry had scavenged around to find for her. All of this went into her school bag quite easily, for she had the same gut feeling as Harry that this was the last she would be seeing of the house for a while.
The piled into the car right after breakfast, Harry and Hermione squeezed between Dudley and his bags, and drove the entire day, stopping only for lunch, and for Uncle Vernon to pick up a suspicious, long, package. They drove until the sun began to set and rain began to pour down in buckets. Uncle Vernon stopped at a dilapidated old hut, got out, and talked to a man. Then, the family followed him to a small boat, and paddled out to a slippery rock in the middle of the ocean, where a shack sat, threatening to blow over in the wind at any moment.
There, they feasted on bananas and a bag of crisps, then tried to light a fire in the fireplace with the greasy crisp bag. After that attempt failed, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia went to bed in the next room, leaving Dudley to sleep on the couch, and Harry and Hermione to share a blanket on the grimy floor.
Harry eyed Dudley's watch, noticing the time: 11:59 PM. Hermione seemed to notice too, because she pulled her bag over, rooting around. As the watched hit 12:00 AM, beeping, she thrust a present into his hands, smiling.
"Happy Birthday, Harry." He smiled, about to reply when a large BOOM interrupted, like a giant hand trying to bring down the door. Hermione jumped, and Harry's heart tried to creak out of his chest.
BOOM! The door rattled, trying to fall inwards, held only by the hinges.
BOOM! Dudley woke with a start, muttering something about a cannon.
BOOM! Harry pulled Hermione over to a corner, ducking down.
BOOM! The door fell to the ground, and a very large man stepped into the shack.
"Sorry 'bout that." He said in a gruff voice, picking the door back up and slamming it into it's place. "Ah, Harry! I 'aven't seen you since you were a little boy! You sure 'ave grown, specially 'round the middle-"
Dudley stood there, petrified. "I-I'm not Harry."
"I am." The skinny boy stepped out from his hiding spot, pulling Hermione with him. The giant appraised him, smiling.
"Of course you are! Oh, wait, I have something for you! It might have gotten a little squashed on the way here." The man rummaged through his many coat pockets, pulling out an assortment of objects before he produced and presented Harry with a bent white box. Harry opened it tentatively, surprised to find a chocolate cake that said, "Happee Birthdae, Harry" in green icing.
"Er…thank you. But if you don't mind my asking, who are you?" He and Hermione sat down on the couch next to the giant man, Dudley still standing there, frozen with fear.
"I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. But of course, you'll know all about Hogwarts already." Harry shook his head, frowning.
"No, I don't." Hagrid stared at him, livid.
"What?!"
"I'm sorry." He felt stupid, like Hogwarts was something he was supposed to have learned about in school.
"It's not your fault. It's your stupid relative's fault."
"Stop it. Stop it right there!" Uncle Vernon stood behind them, rifle raised at Hagrid. Aunt Petunia stood behind him, frightened, and Dudley joined them, whimpering.
Hagrid rolled his eyes, walked over to Uncle Vernon, and yanked the rifle from his hands. With the strength of a hundred men, Hagrid tied the barrel of the gun into a knot, handing it back to the fat man.
"Dry up, Dursley, you great prune!" He hissed angrily. Then he returned to sitting next to Harry and Hermione, who stared at him, dumbstruck.
"You will not tell him!" Uncle Dursley snapped again, a little less loudly. Hagrid ignored him, facing Harry.
"Tell me what?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.
"You're a- Well, actually, it's both o' you. You're a wizard. And a witch. You two magical."
Sorry, guys, I couldn't remember exactly how the last scene went, but I leant HPSS to my little cousin, so I didn't have a reference. So…just pretend this is how it played out.