I do not own Harry Potter. The only one of my creation is Aria Bourne.
The train rolled in on time. Aria hopped off and was pleased to find Hermione already waiting for her on a bench. The Gryffindor's hair was just as bushy as ever, however she was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, as Muggle as Aria had ever seen her. Hermione crossed her arms, leveling Aria with a steely glare as she approached.
"What is happening?" she demanded.
"Much," Aria said. "Harry's probably going to kill me for telling you, but I need help."
"What about Professor Snape?"
Aria explained all that had occurred yesterday. Hermione's eyes widened until Aria was certain she'd have to catch the girl's eyeballs when they popped out of their sockets.
"If you weren't telling me this, I almost wouldn't believe it," Hermione cried. "But I don't think you'd lie about something this big to me."
"So you think I would lie to you?"
"Hopefully not to me. But I know you can lie and lie well."
"Well . . . I don't know what to say to that."
The two paused at a map just outside the station. Once they found Privet Drive on the map, they started off.
"So do you have a plan?" Hermione asked. "Aren't Slytherins meant to have plans?"
"Yes," Aria stated. "And yes. Basically my plan is to make sure Harry's alive and somehow convince the Dursleys not to hurt him anymore."
"Don't you think Dumbledore would have said something to them? I mean, just to make sure Harry won't run off again?"
"I'm not putting my faith in Dumbledore, Hermione. That ship never sailed. Now, remember, if anyone asks we go to a special school for the gifted in Scotland."
"I know," Hermione answered, still not sounding entirely convinced about Aria's plan. "We had to explain why I wasn't going to the local secondary school."
Privet Drive seemed like something out of a terrible suburban movie because all the houses were the same. The only differences were how people kept their front lawns, the fences in front of the homes, and the numbers on the doors.
"Wow," Aria muttered. "Upper middleclass am I right?"
"You're probably not too far off," Hermione answered. "At least my neighborhood has houses you can tell apart."
Counting the houses they paused in front of the unfenced lawn of Number 4 where a shiny black car sat proudly in the driveway. A black haired figure knelt over the flowerbeds under one of the windows. Aria skipped across the neatly cut grass and plopped down beside Harry, facing the street. He blinked at her, mouth dropping open. Hermione followed and sat on Harry's other side.
"Don't look me at me like that," Hermione said when Harry turned her way. "This was all Aria's idea."
"I had to make sure you were all right," Aria said. "And I didn't want to go alone. I'm sorry if I broke your trust."
Harry's face turned to a frown as her words sunk in and he yanked ruthlessly at several weeds.
"I figured out what that spell I heard was," Aria said. "Obliviate."
"What?" Harry demanded, not even glancing at her now. She could see his cheeks turning red, though whether it was from embarrassment at Hermione now knowing or anger at her, Aria didn't know.
"It's a Memory Charm," Aria answered. "It's meant to remove certain memories from a person's mind. That's what Dumbledore did. He removed yesterday's incident from Professor Snape's head. I even spoke to Snape and he didn't remember a thing! It was really frightening."
"So Professor Snape doesn't even remember that I got hurt?" Harry whispered.
"'Fraid so."
Harry's shoulders slumped and he threw a weed into the weed bucket beside him.
"I'm never getting out here then," he murmured.
"Not with an attitude like that!" Aria cried. "I don't really know how we're gonna get you out of here, but we're going to. We're just . . . twelve and have very limited options at the moment." She yanked up a weed Harry had missed.
"What if we involved the Muggles?" Hermione asked. "Child Services in the Muggle world? Dumbledore can't possibly modify all their memories. And if a wizarding child is picked up in the Muggle world, surely there is a way that the wizarding world can swoop in and help."
"I don't want to go with Muggle Child Services," Harry answered. "I've heard stories on the news. Not enough families, not enough homes, I'd be stuck in an overcrowded house with kids I don't know and it'd be harder to keep my magical stuff hidden."
"Oi! Pothead, who're the girls?" Several boys lumbered up the front walk of Privet Drive Number 4. The boy who'd spoken, a disgustingly obese blond boy, glared at Harry with such venom Aria wondered if he'd ever taken lessons.
"We're Hermione and Aria," Hermione responded. "We're classmates of Harry's."
The boys behind the fat boy began laughing. Aria noted how the blonde's face paled.
"You can't be classmates," one boy who looked like he'd been hit with an acne jinx. "Pothead goes to St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."
Aria's mouth dropped open. Harry went where?
"That's a mouth," Hermione cried.
"Harry," Aria said, "why didn't you tell me you were an incurably criminal boy? Then I would have involved you in more trouble making at school. You bloody little goody-two-shoes!"
Harry gave her an unamused glare.
"I don't know where you heard that Harry went to such a place," Hermione continued, "if such a place even exists. Just the title is derogatory and seems to hearken back to a less than agreeable time period of this nation's history. Harry attends a school for the gifted with Aria and I. Only the best, the bright, or the richest can get in."
"What?" another boy cried, scratching his head.
"Yes," Aria agreed. "You only get into this school two ways: you're invited, or you're parents are alumni. And even then your parents being alumni doesn't guarantee you a spot. It's very posh. I'm on scholarship, but the school was more than happy to give me money to attending seeing as they invited me to come. Hermione too."
"Harry's parents are very well respected alumni," Hermione said.
"What are you two doing?" Harry whispered, glancing at the confused faces of the boys. The fat boy's face was now an alarming color of white that Aria had never seen on anyone outside of a film before.
"Sadly there were assassinated," Aria continued.
"Oh come on!" Harry cried.
"Assassinated?" the acne riddled boy repeated.
"It's very tragic," Hermione agreed.
The boys stared at Aria and Hermione. Even Harry split his time between staring at Aria and Hermione. As they were all staring at the girls, the group failed to notice a gaggle of ladies come up the sidewalk.
"Dudley?" one lady called from the group when they reached the lawn. "Who are your friends?" she indicated the girls. Aria recognized her as Harry's aunt from the train station when they'd gotten off the Hogwarts Express.
"They say they go to school with Harry," one of the boys answered. Immediately Harry's aunt stiffened and the other ladies gasped in various stages of confusion.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Aria said, getting up. "I'm Aria. This is Hermione. I was down visiting Hermione who lives in London and we thought we'd pay Harry a visit."
Her dad would be ashamed at how easily the lies rolled off her tongue!
Aria squashed the thoughts down.
She held out her hand. Harry's aunt's eyes widened, like she was surprised and horrified that she was being asked to shake hands with a witch because it was obvious that Harry's aunt had made the connection.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," the woman murmured, taking Aria's hand, giving it a limp shake. "I'm his aunt, Petunia Dursley."
"A pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Dursley," Aria said.
"I see you've already met the boys," one woman added.
"Yes," Aria answered. "We just haven't gotten around to names yet."
The women all nodded at the group of boys as it seemed some of their sons were in the group. The fat boy whose face was slowly regaining color muttered,
"Dudley Dursley."
Ah, so Harry's cousin. Aria watched as Harry pushed himself to his feet and came to stand by her and Hermione.
"I'm Kitty Polkiss," a lady with copper colored hair said. "That's my son, Piers." She motioned to the acne ridden child. "I'm sorry, how do you know Petunia's nephew?"
"We go to school with him," Aria said.
"School?" another lady questioned.
"Yes," Hermione answered.
"School," Aria explained. "The place where you're meant to learn things that will help you be successful later in life as an adult."
More confused stares.
"But you're not boys," Mrs. Polkiss said.
It was a good thing they'd already encountered this confusion with the boys, Aria mused as she and Hermione glanced at Harry whose face was now turning red in what she hoped was embarrassment and not anger because she didn't want to know what real anger looked like with Harry. He was normally so mild mannered, anger was probably frightening.
"That would be correct," Hermione answered slowly. "We are girls."
"They said the three of them go to a school for the gifted," Piers piped up, voice whining like he didn't fully believe them. "They said that Pothea—Harry went there too and that his parents are alumni and that they were assassinated."
All the women gasped. Several hands flew to hearts and one woman covered her mouth in shock. Petunia Dursley's lips pinched into a tight frown as she tried not to glare at Piers. Aria almost grinned at the woman's look. Such discomfort. Were the lies spread about the neighborhood about to be undone by several twelve year olds?
"It seems very far-fetched," one woman answered. "Assassinated?"
"That is what you call it when someone is killed over political ideals isn't it?" Harry snapped. "Or for any cause? It was all hush-hush, I don't even know all the details. But they put my name down for the school when I was a baby so that's how I got in. Aria and Hermione were invited because of their brains."
"I bet you Hermione takes top student in our year," Aria said.
"I thought you would," Hermione said. "I don't know how well I did on the . . . chemistry exam and Professor Snape likes you."
"Snape?" Mrs. Dursley suddenly cried.
"Professor Severus Snape," Aria answered. "A dreadful grouch and my next door neighbor. That's how I got invited in."
"Where are you from?" Mrs. Dursley asked.
"I'm from London," Hermione answered.
"And I'm from Cokesworth," Aria added. "Mrs. Dursley, does Harry have many chores left to do? Hermione and I were hoping to hang out with him for a bit."
"I have finished weeding," Harry supplied. "And I know how busy you are, Aunt Petunia, so I made your Garden Club tea sandwiches. They're in the refrigerator."
"You made them?" Mrs. Polkiss asked.
"They're very simple to make."
"Go and change out of your work clothes, then you may go," Mrs. Dursley said. Harry scampered into the house.
"Won't you all come in?" Mrs. Dursley asked. "It is, after all, where we were headed?" She ushered the girls into the house followed by the women. Dudley and his friends decided it might be better to escape down the street.
"Tea?" Mrs. Dursley asked her lady friends. "Girls, would you like some sandwiches?"
"Perhaps one," Hermione said. Mrs. Dursley found several plates of tea sandwiches in the refrigerator and set them on the coffee table in the parlor. Aria and Hermione helped themselves to cucumber sandwiches.
"So, do you have anyone noteworthy in your class?" one of the women asked.
Aria munched thoughtfully on her sandwich. None of these ladies would know the Malfoys or Notts or any other high profile pureblood families.
"There is a boy who was going to go to Eton," Hermione answered.
"Really?" Aria cried. "Who's that?"
"Justin Finch-Fletchley."
"Did you say Finch-Fletchley?" the woman asked. Hermione nodded. "I've heard of that family. Very wealthy. Could buy themselves a title if they so wanted."
"What do they do?" Mrs. Polkiss asked.
"If I remember correctly," the woman said, voice lowering as if she were sharing a great secret, "the Finch-Fletchley patriarch is the President of the British branch of the Swiss Bank."
The ladies made appropriate impressed noises. Aria and Hermione shared a look. That certainly was an interesting tidbit. Aria grabbed another cucumber sandwich.
"I'm ready," Harry said, entering the living room.
Aria took one look at him and, without stopping to think, blurted out,
"I thought your aunt said to change out of your work clothes."
Hermione hit her shoulder.
"Sorry," Aria muttered. "It just slipped out."
"You've got to learn to think before you speak," Hermione scolded. "What have we all told you?"
"Okay, mum. Calm yourself. I apologized. Harry isn't about to kill me."
Harry folded his arms.
"I did change," he snapped. "I cleaned these this morning."
"I'm afraid your friend is right, Harry dear," the woman who knew about the Finch-Fletchleys said. "Those look more like your cousin's clothes."
A vindictive gleam shot through Harry's eyes before he turned away from Aria to peer innocently at the woman.
"But these are Dudley's clothes, Mrs. Frankson," he said. "I get all his hand-me-downs."
"What do you wear at school?" Mrs. Polkiss asked.
His school uniform. Aria could have hit herself. Of course! If his relatives had no qualms about beating Harry up why would they buy him fitting clothes? That was why he was always dressing in his uniform pants and shirts, even on weekends.
One glance at Hermione told Aria that her friend had come to the same conclusion.
"That's why you always wear your uniform," Hermione murmured.
"Are we going to hang out or not?" Harry asked. The girls grabbed extra sandwiches, bid their good-byes, and exited the house. Harry put a finger to his lips and the three crouched below the open window by the flowerbeds.
"Petunia," they heard Mrs. Frankson say, "I just assumed those were his work clothes!"
"They are," Petunia answered. "He's just pulling your leg. He tells lies all the time."
"I highly doubt he brought two classmates here just to help him expand on his lying," Mrs. Polkiss replied. "Besides, you said he was going to a school for boys and those two sweet young ladies were not boys."
There was silence.
"I'm not sure what's going on," Mrs. Frankson finally said. "But I've heard enough today to know that I have been lied to. Petunia, I don't know why you've done so, but why you would hide the fact that your nephew got into a special school? Is it because he finally beat your son at something?"
There was a collective gasp amongst the ladies.
"It must be said!" Mrs. Frankson cried. "I cannot keep silent any longer. It's terrible the way you let your son run about, Petunia. I've thought that from the very beginning, ever since Richard and I moved here four years ago. But, out of being polite, I stayed silent. Not anymore. You lied about where your nephew goes to school, what else have you lied about? If he is returning to this special school, then it must mean he's relatively bright or mentally unstable as you would have us believe."
"Mentally unstable?" Hermione whispered.
"All Slytherins are," Aria whispered back.
"What are you implying?" Mrs. Polkiss demanded.
"I'm implying that all is not right in this house," Mrs. Frankson stated. "I've seen Vernon stumble into this house, drunk as can be! I've seen your son chase boys down the street in demand for candy money. I have seen your nephew slave away on chores."
"To keep him out of trouble," Petunia answered.
"I think your own son needs to be kept out of trouble," Mrs. Frankson snapped.
Harry motioned for them to move away from the window and the three began walking down the street.
"I don't know what you were trying to accomplish," Harry said.
"It's okay, neither do we really," Hermione replied.
"I just wanted to make sure you're all right," Aria said. "Is that so bad?"
"I'm just afraid that Uncle Vernon will get mad."
"But if the neighbors are suspicious now, won't that keep your relatives from doing anything?" Aria guessed. "At least for the summer or until we figure out how to get Professor Snape's memories back."
"Maybe, maybe not," Harry said.
"Well you can hide at my house," Aria stated.
"Or mine," Hermione added. "It's much closer and Dumbledore certainly doesn't know where it is, or is it located anywhere that he might pop up in like Aria's."
Harry sighed. "Thanks you two," he muttered. They stopped outside an ice cream shop.
"My treat?" Hermione questioned. Aria and Harry readily agreed.
Sitting on the curb outside Number 4 Aria happily licked her ice cream cone of bright pink bubble gum flavor. Hermione had taken a more moderate approach to her ice cream by ordering a butter pecan cone while Harry had taken the classic chocolate with jimmies added on top.
"If anything, at least the ice cream will be worth the hassle with Uncle Vernon," Harry said, licking his treat.
"Where is your uncle?" Aria asked.
"Work. He'll be coming home soon."
Aria hurried to lick the ice cream that threatened to melt on her hand. An elderly lady toddled down the sidewalk towards them, grinning happily at Harry.
"Hello, Harry dear," the lady called. "Are you enjoying your summer holiday?"
"I am, Mrs. Figg," Harry responded. "Mrs. Figg, I'd like you to meet my friends, Aria and Hermione. They go to school with me."
Mrs. Figg stopped short, her eyebrows knitting together, and her face turning to a deep frown.
"School?" she questioned. "With you?"
"For a special school for the gifted," Harry answered. "I know my aunt and uncle have been telling everyone I go to some detention center, but it's not true."
Mrs. Figg looked insulted.
"As if I'd ever believe what they say!" she cried. "I'm not that old yet, Harry dear. Well, it's nice to meet you two girls. I hope you enjoy the rest of your holidays and your ice cream." She continued off down the road.
"That's my babysitter," Harry explained. "Or she was when I was little. She had a ton of cats and her house always smells like cabbage."
"So regular old lady huh?" Aria teased.
"Basically."
The front door to Number 4 opened just as a bright black company car rolled into the driveway and a man, as fat as Harry's cousin with a terrible mustache, climbed out. Aria immediately recognized the man as Vernon Dursley who'd picked Harry up from the train station.
"What are you doing, boy?" Vernon demanded, glaring at Harry. "Have you finished your chores?"
Aria felt Harry stiffen beside her and she scooted closer, licking her ice cream slowly while staring the adult man down as best as she could.
"Aunt Petunia said I could hang out with my friends," Harry responded, even as Vernon began stomping towards him.
"Friends?" Vernon demanded. "I didn't know you had any friends."
"We're from his school," Hermione snapped. "For the gifted."
Vernon reared back like he'd been slapped. At that moment the women from within the house had come down the walk and were now standing nearby.
"Hello, Vernon," Mrs. Frankson greeted, a smile on her face and voice sweet and thick. "It's wonderful to see you. We had a pleasant time getting to know all about your nephew's school from his friends."
"What?" Vernon sputtered. A vein in his head began to pulse. Aria feared a heart attack might be nearing.
"Yes, we discussed your nephew a lot," Mrs. Polkiss said. "But we were able to straighten things out. Weren't we, Petunia?"
Petunia smiled and gave a nod. Aria recognized the look from several primary school teachers whenever they were agreeing with the headmistresses even under duress.
"Harry, dear," Mrs. Frankson said, coming to stand in the road to face Harry. "My son Jason has outgrown a lot of his clothes this past school year. I was just organizing it all to go to the charity shops, but you're more than welcome to come over tomorrow morning and find whatever you like to keep."
"Th-thank you," Harry stuttered. "That's not really needed, Mrs. Frankson."
"Don't be absurd," Mrs. Frankson said. "It's long overdue." She eyed the Dursleys before marching off down the street, the other ladies of the neighborhood in toe. Aria went back to her ice cream. It was painfully obvious in the remaining tension that the pecking order of Privet Drive had just changed drastically.
"Harry," Petunia mustered, "would you go inside and begin dinner? I need to speak with your uncle."
"Sure." Harry polished off his ice cream. "See you guys later." He hurried into the house, leaving the Dursleys with Aria and Hermione.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dursley," Hermione said. "Thanks for letting Harry come hang out with us. Can I at least call on him again, since I live so nearby?"
Vernon's face continued to go red. Petunia gave a pained smile at Hermione.
"Of course," she agreed. "Just call ahead."