AN: As always, I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with the trademarked wizarding world. In fact, this silly, excessive, anime-like fanfiction wouldn't be worth a thing at all if it weren't for my own guilty amusement and your sincere enjoyment. So yeah. Everything belongs to Rowling, WB, Bloomsbury, etc. Oh, and the Dark Lord. He owns all.
THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE
Whispers rose up concerning the title of the chapter.
Ted Tonks shifted in his seat as he prepared himself for the upcoming chapter. If the first sentence was any indicator, it would be another unpleasant look into the life of young Harry Potter. His wife gave his hand a squeeze of support and he gave her a smile that ended up coming out as more of a grimace. She nodded in understanding, so he cleared his throat and began.
The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment.
Sounds of disapproval sounded throughout the hall,
"I can't believe those people," spoke an incensed Penelope, her voice high and pitchy from her own previous crying.
"More monsters than people," Ginny muttered darkly.
Cornelius Fudge worried his wrinkled hands as he looked at the boy whose name he'd run through the mud this past year. So far, these books were making him realize just how bad the boy's childhood was; a far cry from the pampered life he'd once thought the boy had. "Punishment for something beyond his control. Terrible. Caused by the abuse of his relatives no less? Simply dreadful."
No one at the staff table bothered to point out how he had been doing the exact same thing throughout the past year by running Harry ragged via the media simply because he experienced something beyond his control. No one, that is, except Perenelle Flamel.
"I can only imagine. A boy, so young and lost in the world, being unfairly punished for something outside of his ability to control by those who, in all reality, are just seeking to control him in turn. I wonder, Minister, what should the punishment be for such people?"
This got Harry's attention, and apparently his friends as well, as they all quieted to hear the Minister's response.
Fudge drew himself up, now realizing that the entire hall had grown silent when the mysterious woman's soft but melodic voice spoke. He had the chance to not only speak his mind on the matter, but also look good and compassionate towards the Bow Who Lived in front of his present and future voters. For a charismatic leader like him, it would surely be a cake walk.
"Why, the highest possible, of course. Those who abuse their power and position in such a way should all be charged and found guilty of-of… of negligence in whatever position they hold, clearly charged with abuse and harassment, and - and… Oh, and all monies and other finances should be removed from their possession leading into a proper audit, or they shall face the aurors or even, perhaps, the very guards of Azkaban!" he ended with a chuckle.
Fudge was positively beaming at the end, very pleased with himself. His fist was raised up in righteous indignation, and despite his sweating and stuttering, he felt that he'd breezed over it well enough that no one noticed. Dolores stood and clapped politely for him, though he could tell she wasn't a huge fan of offering any sense of compassion towards someone in Potter's position.
At first, he thought he'd been successful in his speech, as silence descended on the hall. They were clearly soaking in just how passionate their minister was on behalf of their famed hero. While a dozen or so students clapped politely - most of whom were from his old house of Hufflepuff, and all of them were related to ministry workers - everyone else just stared. When the silence lingered a while longer, he grew nervous at the dumbfounding looks he was getting until he heard laughter.
Harry saw the mysterious woman smile like the cat that ate the canary before she began chuckling. She had a clairvoyant laugh. One that woke up a room and cleared everyone's heads just a touch, making them feel, dare he say, enlightened somehow. He couldn't help but crack a smile as he heard her laughter echo throughout the hall – a smile that only increased when he saw the incensed face of the minister and his toad.
"Oh, Minister. You're something special." The man didn't know whether to angrily question the cause for her laughter or thank her for what he felt was a compliment. Perenelle struggled to not roll her eyes. "Do remember your words when this reading is over and you return to your home. That is, if you're a man of your word?" Perenelle leveled a strikingly serious glare at the man who fumbled his bowler hat in his hand and nodded frantically, clearly not wanting to show others that he was anything less than decisive and honest. Fudge didn't know why, but this woman scared him.
Harry had caught on to what the woman had done, though he was one of the few in the hall, and he smiled at her. He knew she could see him out of the corner of her eyes, and indeed her lips quirked a bit.
"Hem-hem." The hall twitched as one when Umbridge opened her mouth with a plastered on smile. "And you are?"
The beautiful mystery woman smiled and dipped her head in mock humility. "Perenelle Flamel."
Everyone in the hall, even the staff and guests, grew wide eyed and slack jawed with surprise, with the exception of Albus and Aberforth. The Perenelle Flamel, wife to the afamed Nicholas Flamel, was amongst them. So many whispers broke out, so many questions, but Dumbledore silenced them with a wave of his hand and Perenelle smiled gently out at the room, fully at ease. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were particularly curious as to what she was doing there for the reading, though they supposed it had something to do with the Philospher's Stone they were going to read about.
"How is she still alive?" questioned Hermione. The Elixir of Life - made using the Philosopher's Stone - was no longer available to the Flamel's, or so she'd been told by Harry who in turn had been told by Dumbledore.
"I don't know, but I hope she isn't too cross about the stone," muttered Harry. His friends gulped.
Ted Tonks cleared his throat to get everyone's attention away from the famed witch before returning to the reading. 'Jeez. Hardly a sentence into the chapter and already there are interruptions,' he thought.
By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started
"How long was that?" Katie questioned, genuinely concerned for her friend, not knowing how long a person could starve in a cupboard and live.
"About two weeks," Harry shrugged. He didn't see how lying would help matters.
Gasps were let out by those who had heard his answer, but they thankfully remained silent on the matter. Ron was concerned for his friend now and quickly asked, "They gave you food through, right? I mean, two weeks… without a decent meal!?"
"It was fine, Ron. They fed me once a day, and I'm here now aren't I?" Harry couldn't blame Ron for being concerned. Unlike the case with others, he actually appreciated his best friend showing worry over him, despite him sitting right next to him, healthy as a peach.
"No wonder you have such terrible eyesight," said Penelope sadly. "Locked in a dark cupboard for such long periods of time." She frowned prettily at him.
"I'm fine, really. Besides, my father wore glasses, so I don't mind. It may even just be hereditary like everyone says."
The Ravenclaw graduate didn't look fully mollified, but she dropped it knowing that Harry wouldn't want to linger on it.
- and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.
"Brat!" sounded the hall. Truly, the parents taught that boy no manners whatsoever.
"Yupp, definitely a douche canoe," muttered the twins in their typical stereo unison.
Dumbledore furrowed his brows as he thought of the poor Mrs. Figg. While she still seemed to worship the air he walked on, she had grown rather cross with his refusal to let her leave Privet Drive all these years. Come to think of it, she always seemed to be limping or uncomfortable from one thing or another. At the time, he'd always summed it up to old muggle age, but now… 'Perhaps Mrs. Figg is in need of a proper holiday,' he thought remorsefully.
Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day.
"Don't they have anything better to do?" huffed an irritated Fleur, her proficient English firmly back in place.
"Of course not," muttered Tonks. "They're bullies. The only way they get through life with their sad, inadequate existence is through inflicting pain on others; making themselves feel big. It's what gets their jollies off."
"It's sick," muttered Penelope.
Sparing Penelope a glance, Fleur looked at the slightly older woman in surprise before giving the auror an appraising look. She would have said something similarly blunt had she been more comfortable with the present company. She smirked when the metamorphmagus caught her look, the older woman furrowing her brow in confusion.
Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid,
"Big, stupid, and poorly named is more like it," offered an amused Ron. Those in the hall who were unfortunate enough to be named Dennis, Malcolm, or Gordon voiced their disagreement (no one was called Piers, thankfully).
"You're not one to talk, Ronald," Hermione countered, stressing her ginger friend's given name.
"What, and you are?!" he countered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's not the point. The point is you shouldn't tease other people's names unless you'd like the same to happen to you. And for your information, my name is unique and elegant!"
"Right, just like your hair," drolled Ron, well aware of the way Hermione's eyes narrowed.
"Guys…" Harry stopped the two before they could continue. If they got started now, it would be a rather long chapter for everyone.
Hermione turned away without another word. She was clearly displeased with Ron's comment about her hair. Ron simply huffed at his female friends touchiness. "Honestly, it was just a joke." He saw Dennis Creevey further down the table, sticking his tongue out at him "That's mature," he muttered, before returning the favor in kind.
Harry just rolled his eyes at his best friend's antics. Let it not be said that they weren't fifteen years old.
but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.
"'Cuz that makes perfect sense," deadpanned Alicia.
The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.
From his position under the table, Snuffles bared his teeth at the book once more. 'No one hurts my god son, Dursley.'
This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley.
Pomfrey turned to her peers. "That's fortunate for both their sakes. Who knows how Harry's fluxing magic might have reacted to continued abused by that terrible boy." The staff and guests, the only ones able to hear her, nodded in agreement though Remus looked like he wouldn't have minded some accidental magic befalling Dudley.
"I'm surprised you were able to put up with the brat that long," Bill said.
Harry shrugged. "What choice, did I have?"
"Run away?" he offered tentatively.
"I tried, believe me… it never worked. One way or another, I always ended up back in Privet Drive."
Bill and the others furrowed their eyes at Harry's cryptic response, but dropped it for the time being.
Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings.
"I take it the boy's father pulled strings in order for him to get in?" accused Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Harry hesitated. "No, actually. Vernon doesn't have much pull in that school if memory serves me right. At least, no more than any other alumni. Dudley got in based on his GPA alone. Well, that and Uncle Vernon's pocketbook; it's a private school after all." He shrugged.
Ron gaped. "You mean to tell me that your lard of a cousin who can't even count to forty properly got into some fancy-schmancy school with his grades? Come off it, Harry."
"You never know, Ron. I had to work very hard to get accepted into the private school I wanted to get into; or rather the one my parents wanted me to attend. That is, before we found out about magic and Hogwarts." Several purebloods sneered at the muggleborn witch, as well as the discussion of muggle schooling. None of them could really tell why they felt the need to, they just did so instinctually. "The point is," continued Hermione, pointedly ignoring the sneers and bored looks from some of the students, "that sometimes people get into places, be it positions of power or prestigious schools, based off of connections and money alone and without actually any merit." She leveled a challenging look at a bored looking Malfoy, something few missed.
The blonde fifth year merely sneered back at her, something that caused his mother internal grief. 'Merlin's sake, grow up! Stop reacting to every little thing,' she thought.
"Something tells me, however," continued Hermione after the hall had gotten the message, "that Dudley didn't really earn his grades... did he, Harry?" It wasn't a question and the poker face the raven haired wizard wore was enough proof for the hall that the Dursley's had indeed used Harry for more than just their cooking.
Penelope, Padma, Mandy, and other Ravenclaws looked distraught. Most - but not all - of them prided themselves on their own hard won efforts. They enjoyed the challenge of school and learning. Harry, it seemed, was forced to excel for others. A far from ideal environment.
"Cheating. How quaint," simpered Umbridge patronizingly.
"How is it cheating if he's the one doing the work for an abusive cousin?" defended Tonks. When several deadpan looks were sent her way, her roots turned red in frustration and embarrassment. "I mean, other than the 'doing work for an abusive cousin' part." The disbelieving looks remained.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the metamorphmagus as the twins spoke.
"Way to go, Tonks," they stereo-spoke.
"Have you ever considered-"
"-a profession in politics?" The twins snickered.
"Hardy-har, guys. You know what I mean. If anything, it's those damned Dursley's that should be ashamed of themselves," she mumbled. "For many things…" Her hair turned mousy brown at the thought of all the things that Harry had endured over the course of his childhood at their hands.
For the sake of getting his daughters mind off of her friend's misfortunes, Ted Tonks continued reading, though he joined the other adults in glaring at the pink-clad Defense Professor first.
Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.
No one, not even the Slytherins commented on how this might have been funny. While some may have normally taken the opportunity to rub something in 'Potter's' face about not being good enough to get into a proper school, it was clear the boy would have had no choice in the matter.
"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"
Some of the students wrinkled their nose at the thought of having their heads jammed down a toilet. The twins capitalizing on the moment to ask the question of whether or not the toilet had been flushed prior to said activity served to only make the grimaces increase exponentially.
"Ahh, a swirlie is what some call it. I always tried to avoid those," Dean told no one in particular. Being an artsy boy in a public school often had him pegged as a "fairy", and he was on the receiving end of many such threats from various jocks back at his primary. Fortunately, he had thus far avoided all contact with any toilet that didn't involve relieving himself.
"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilets never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick." He calmly walked away, knowing it would take Dudley a while to work out what he'd said.
Laughter sounded in the hall as the twins congratulated Harry on his increasingly brilliant wit. Even the staff and guest's lips were twitching, as the younger teachers openly giggled.
"Seriously, Harry! Where has this side of you been hiding?" questioned a gasping Lee. He found that his bespectacled friend's humor came fast and dry, something he truly appreciated in a comedian.
Harry shrugged, not knowing how best to explain that he wasn't aware his humor had been missing in the first place. Before he could formulate a response, Hermione was on him.
"Harry," she drawled. "While I'm glad you're able to get one over on your cousin, don't you think it's a tad dangerous to do something like that? Won't he, you know, beat you up?"
He saw that her question was purely out of concern and not a rebuke, and he admired her eternal sense of caring she had for him. Yet again, before he could respond, someone answered for him.
"Well, that's out Harry. A Gryffindor through and through, he is," Parvati smiled, to the roars of agreement from their table. No one caught just how fake his particularly small smile was.
At the Slytherin table, Tracey frowned. Harry seemed like the bravest man in the room to her, but she knew he wasn't just some dumb gryffindork. He had brains, that much was certain, and a surprising amount of cunning if she were to hazard a guess. Beside her, Daphne and Lily tensed, not liking the claim of ownership on their crush by their rival house.
Inside, Harry was stone faced. 'You'll all know soon enough.'
One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before.
"Why that's ridiculous; blaming the cat for something that was likely her own fault," voiced an out of character Umbridge.
While the hall stared awkwardly at the toad like woman, Cornelius could only blink owlishly at the table. He was fully aware of his undersecretaries - dare he say, fanatical - enthusiasm for the feline race. McGonagall almost shivered in disgust at the thought of Umbridge petting her cats – she was one herself, after all.
She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.
"Mmm, cake," Ron moaned, just as Hermione's nose wrinkled, "Eeew, cake, and spoiled cake at that."
It was the second cake he'd had in his life, the first being at a birthday one of his classmates held at school. Not that he'd managed to finish his slice at the time – Dudley had been quick to swipe his away when the teacher wasn't looking. He had enjoyed it all the same.
McGonagall made a note to get the boy some cake sometime, not knowing Sirius, Molly, and many others were thinking along similar lines.
"Like that fat arse needed any more cake," groused Roger Davies, to the nods of his friends and the quidditch team in particular. Some of the more big boned students in the hall shuffled self consciously, which made a few of the adults frown.
That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters.
While Dumbledore and a few other adults chuckled, the students simply looked amused at the description of Dudley's uniform. Some managed to laugh, but none as merrily as the young veela sitting a few seats away from Harry.
Gabrielle Delacour had always possessed a vivid imagination. Her father had once said it was a family trait, but she disagreed. Her mother showed little imagination in anything that didn't involve architecture or cuisine. She figured these were the side-effects of a long lasting marriage with a politician.
Her sister Fleur had often read romance novels and had admitted to often daydreaming of scenes of the sublime when she was her age, but she had eventually outgrown such things – too soon, in her opinion - in lieu of living life as "a proper adult". No fairy tales, no happily ever after, just reality. While growing up was indeed a natural part of life, and Gabrielle was never under the illusion that life was just and likely to end happy for everyone, she believed that growing up lied more so in a person's actions towards others than it did any form of self-conscious, 'mature' mentality. Losing your childlike nature was only a byproduct of handling those responsibilities, not the cause.
Thus, in the hopes of not becoming like her mother or sister, Gabrielle swore to maintain her adolescent wonder no matter what. She never wanted to not find something incredible and new in the world, otherwise what was the purpose of living it? Unlike the common girl that indulged in romance and gossip, she had always preferred stories of the fantastical – be it tragedy, adventure, or even horror. Through years of reading and daydreaming, chasing worlds that allowed he to both escape and appreciate the one she was in, Gabrielle had honed her skills of mental picturing expertly.
So it was understandable that she had so far not enjoyed the reading. Sure, learning about the life of the boy who saved your life was one thing, but to find out he was treated in such a terrible manner for at least ten years was appalling to the girl. She knew life wasn't pretty, but sometime knowing something and knowing something were two different things. Harry was the latter – he knew life wasn't pretty.
Throughout the reading she had pictured every insult coming at the boy, ghostly imagined the pain he felt in his beatings, at least tried to grasp the numbness he seemed to have towards his treatment in general. Combined with her naturally sensitive heart, the young veela was quite emotionally invested into this particular story.
So it was that every scene so far had drawn a hardly noticeable reaction from her – flinches for the bad, smirks for the good. In this case, with the ridiculousness of Dudley's attire, which was far too specific to NOT picture, she could help it…
She laughed. She giggled softly but thoroughly, to the point that everyone at the table, ever her sister, was sending her weird looks. Everyone that is, but him.
"I'm glad someone finds it funny," he smiled kindly at her. Gabrielle stopped giggling but a smile remained on her face as she casually locked eyes with him. "Merlin knows I nearly burst my gut trying to hold in my laughter. You couldn't imagine how ridiculous it looked."
"Non, I can imagine." She paused and released a final giggle at the thought. "Perhaps a little too well," she added.
He nodded his head in understanding, a loose smirk on his lips before turning away. Out of the corner of her eye, Gabrielle saw his gaze return to her briefly before turning back to the conversation his ginger haired friend from the lake had engaged him with. She noticed her older sister smirking at her, though her eyes were pensive. The Weasley girl was also giving her a strange look that she wasn't sure she liked or even understood, but she ignored it. She'd gotten him to smile at her, and that was something for now.
They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," muttered Madame Hooch. How ridiculous could these people get?
"I can't imagine how," voiced a dumbfounded Oliver Wood. "I mean, unless you're trying out for the beater position at a wizarding school." His friends simply rolled their eyes at him, though they knew he was just making light on the story.
As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life.
The twins snorted before looking at each other. "Rather boring life that is."
Arthur Weasley hummed in thought, as though lost in a memory.
"I don't know, sons. Loathe as I am to agree with the man on anything, I can see how having your child off to your alma mater might be considered a proud moment. Merlin knows I may have shed a tear or two when you went off to school for the first time, Bill. One for you as well, Ginerva," the balding man looked kindly at his children.
While Ron and Ginny looked embarrassed, the others were actually mature enough to understand that it was natural for a father to be proud of his kids in public and smiled kindly at their father, unknowingly joined by Harry. Arthur Weasley was one of the few men he respected, and that there was one of the reasons why.
Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.
Snorts sounded across the hall as the horrible nickname made an appearance once more. The fact that she called him such an infantile name in the same sentence as calling him grown made even the likes of Crabbe and Goyle scratch their heads. That, or they were actually scratching their heads randomly… yupp, definitely scratching their heads randomly.
"What'd you think of all this, Harry?" asked an amused Neville.
"Oh, you know..." Harry shrugged his shoulders casually, a smile on his face. The others - the twins in particular - could only imagine what he thought of the scene.
Harry didn't trust himself to speak.
"Wise idea, that," voiced Fred at the same time that Angelina said "Probably for the best." The two looked at one another at the same time that George wiggled his eyebrows at Alicia who scoffed and turned away. Charlie rolled his eyes, hoping he wasn't that bad when he was a teenager.
He thought two of his ribs might already have re-cracked from trying not to laugh.
The humor was offset with the reminder that he had indeed cracked two ribs not too long ago. Madame Pomfrey seemed to register something before turning swiftly to Harry, her lips thinned in worry and her eyebrows furrowed.
"Mr. Potter, when were you eventually treated for your broken ribs and the other injuries you sustained?" she hurriedly asked him, embarrassed at not having caught the oversight earlier. Indeed, this brought everyone in the hall up short. While they knew that Harry hadn't been treated immediately for his beating, they had forgotten about it shortly afterwards with the progression of the story. It made many of them feel incredibly irresponsible, chief among them a pale Hermione and Andromeda.
"Uhm, I wasn't." At the looks he received from the students, he continued. "I mean, at the time I didn't know how it was possible, but I felt as though my body always mended on its own. Cuts and bruises always healed relatively fast in comparison to my cousin, and my bones would simply fix themselves over a few nights at most. I guess the Dursleys knew about my magic as well, or they might not have been so physical."
While Harry felt he'd been clinical and honest in his response, the confused looks he was getting from his peers made him unsure of himself, and the disbelieving looks from the staff made him feel, well, stupid. Come to think of it, he was stupid! He had never bothered to research how it was that magic always healed him. He'd just chalked it up to 'good ol' magic', thinking it was something everyone could do. Harry normally prided himself on avoiding such oversights, but once again his lack of self-value caused him to overlook something.
"Mr. Potter… are you saying you've never received medical treatment for anything in your life?" questioned Pomfrey, followed by Sprout adding, "Ever?" when Harry shook his head in the negative.
"What does this mean?" He had a feeling he was about to find out something else that made him 'unique'. A freak is what he felt like.
Pomfrey looked to a mildly concerned but not altogether unsurprised Dumbledore, something that made him grimace inside. 'This is going to be good,' he thought.
"It would appear, Mr. Potter, that you indeed have a unique way about you. In all my years as a wizard, magic naturally healing bones and scars has occurred here and there in powerful witches and wizards, but not on the scale that you allude to, and certainly not within the same frequency." Dumbledore's voice was placating, but carried a hint of warning… but for whom? Harry had a feeling it was directed towards the now revealed Perenelle Flamel. 'Peculiar.' Absentmindedly, he noted everyone listened intently to Dumbledore's every word, even the normally asinine Malfoy. 'Now that's clinical.'
Amelia Bones' curiosity in the Potter boy was growing the more they read about the enigmatic young man. "Are you saying, Dumbledore, that we're to assume a boys untrained magic instinctually mended his body on several occasions? Without guidance, with no channel?"
"Yes, I think it is safe to assume that at the moment. We'll have to wait until after the reading has finished to get to the bottom of this interesting development."
Hermione watched Harry with rapt attention, as though he were something to dissect. She had to struggle to keep from raising her hand in order to ask a dozen different questions, though Harry could still see the concern in her eyes and the relief that he had been healed. Thankfully, Ron didn't seem envious of the fact that Harry was supposedly a powerful wizard. Unknown to him, the redhead had reassured himself that this had been established earlier on in the reading, and he'd more or less known his friend was unique since the first time they'd gone down the trapdoor in their first year. He was just relieved to know his best mate was 'okay' after such a beating. Or, as okay as one could be in that sitatuion.
Harry ignored the various looks he was getting, focusing instead on Narcissa Malfoy who had begun sending him a piercing, almost analytical look. This would not have been so bad had there not been a palpable hunger as well in her eyes. Unaware of its cause, it nonetheless set Harry on edge, though a small part of him grew almost… excited.
There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.
Hermione had a pained look on her face at the thought of living with the woman. Penelope and the bookworms and inquisitive types around the hall had similar looks, with the Ravenclaw table looking as though someone had spiked all their goblets with something extremely sour. It amused Harry to say the least.
"Your new school uniform," she said.
"Pleasant," sniffed Daphne Greengrass. No one in the hall was surprised much by the pettiness of the Dursleys, but that didn't mean no one was disgusted with just how pathetic and cheap they were willing to be.
Harry looked in the bowl again. "Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."
Snorts sounded across the hall in response to Harry's sarcastic nature. It was a side that surprised those who knew him only as the sulking Boy Who Lived from afar, and even to most of his friends and teammates. Molly almost admonished Harry on his penchant for asking for trouble, even as he was equally as enthusiastically complimented on his wit and humor by his peers, particularly the twins.
"You're so bad, Harry," Romilda Vane spoke up from down the table. A pretty girl in the year below him, Harry was somewhat aware of her existence. She was acquaintances with Demelza Robins and Ginny if he recalled. He couldn't remember ever having spoken to her directly, however, yet here she was addressing him by his given name. Not like a fanboy such as Creevey might, but with a familiarity that was nonetheless odd. She was smiling at him almost… flirtatiously?
Harry, renown for being incredibly thick when it came to woman, was still able to pick up on Romilda's intentions, which of course meant the whole table was slapped in the face by its sheer aggressiveness. The boys looked rather interested in the development, almost vicariously living through Harry's experiences at this point, while the girls - even Luna - recoiled at how blatant the third year was.
Hermione rolled her eyes in sync with Fleur and Tonks, though the older witches did it for altogether different reasons. 'Amateur,' they both thought in sync.
Ginny herself was giving her 'friend' a betrayed look, joined by Demelza and a rather vexed Gabrielle.
"I for one find it rather admirable," said Penelope suddenly. "You're able to find some way to cope with a life that… well, I honestly can't imagine. Your humor is brilliant, Harry. You are brilliant."
The graduated ravenclaw spoke with transparent sincerity and it made Harry smile ever so slightly at the pretty blonde before turning away just as quickly with a mumbled, "I don't know about that."
The pixie faced Penelope smiled widely at the shy teen before feeling eyes on her from several sides. Ignoring the younger girls, she felt the two otehr adult females on the table give her appraising looks, though it was subconscious in Tonk's case. Percy, up at the guests table, frowned at the interaction as he stared longingly at his ex.
"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia.
"Yeah, Potter. Don't be stupid," sneered a still embarrassed Nott. He wasn't fond of the attention the raven-haired teen was getting during all of a sudden, especially from such pretty girls. "Wait, I forgot – you can't help it."
He guffawed rather harshly, joined by less than a handful of Slytherin upper years who looked like Marcus Flint clones. Before anyone could respond to the fifth year Slytherin – though, most looked to be ignoring him completely – Harry turned amused eyes towards his would be verbal-assailant. "You mean to say that you, a "proper pureblood", agree with my aunt, a magical-hating muggle?"
He clearly saw nothing wrong with something as simple as agreeing with a muggle. Harry's stance on muggles, being a half-blood himself, may as well have been solidified well before even his enrollment into Hogwarts. The hall knew this, and thus didn't take offense with his question, knowing it was simply a jab at Nott's own beliefs. Were the prejudiced boy smart enough, he would have seen that there was nothing offensive in agreeing with someone else that someone was stupid, regardless of that persons background – it's simply a shared belief.
As it was, Nott wasn't smart enough and could only comprehend the fact that he'd just agreed word for word with a muggle in front of his peers, not quite grasping the concept that they couldn't give a damn either way.
Needless to say, Nott shut up and let the reading proceed, wary of Draco's blank look leveled at him.
"I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished… and you'll be thankful."
"Aren't you always," drawled George in a nuanced Snape impersonation.
Said professor thankfully didn't hear him, but the table certainly did, much to their amusement.
Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High - like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.
"You have one crazed imagination, mate," Lee said as he shook his head, his dreadlocks waving to and fro, just as Sprout said "You've quite the imagination, Mr. Potter."
The twins snickered at Lee's near-mimicking of the dumpy looking woman.
Dean Thomas seemed to be looking far off as his tried to picture what such a scene would look like, before a light bulb went off in his head. The smile that came across his face told anyone who knew him that he now had his next drawing concept, one that Harry had no doubt he'd knock out of the park.
Luna, at no surprise to Harry, maintained a serene smile. He knew she'd likely pictured such a thing in the past.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.
"Ewww," came the voice of a first year girl. "He carries the stick everywhere?"
It took people a while to catch on to what the innocent girl was trying to imply, but when they did, the students immediately turned to Harry looking for an answer. He didn't disappoint.
'Everywhere,' he exaggeratedly mouthed to the hall, causing the first year girl to repeat her "ewww", this time with the rest of the hall joining in as the boys and older girls giggled.
"That's just gross," muttered Ron. "Why would you do that? Taint the dining table, the true hall of the gods, with something you take… everywhere." He mock shuddered, even as his friends laughed at his obsession with food.
Hermione blinked. She looked at her ginger-haired friend through narrowed, half-humored eyes. "If memory serves me right, Ron, you tried to do the same thing when Harry first got his firebolt."
Ron blushed under the looks he was getting from the hall. The fact that he now sounded like a hypocrite in front of everyone aside, the way Hermione so easily countered a joke of his with that… snooty attitude of hers really rubbed him the wrong way. "It was for protection! Who knows what could have happened to that baby. 'Sides, you can't compare a silly stick of wood to a broom!" The muggleborns stared at Ron as though he'd grown another head. "Oh, you know what I mean! A magical, racing broom! They're totally different in terms of value, sentimentality…"
'Wow, Ron's making a logical point here,' thought Ginny.
"…and, and… and stuff," he finished.
'Well, it was good while it lasted,' she bemoaned internally. Her brother did reflect on her, after all.
Hermione batted Ron's defense aside. "Nevertheless you should take care to not judge others if you yourself would do the same thing in their shoes. It's rather hypocritical, no matter how funny it may be."
"That's something we should all keep in mind during this reading," Harry said to the Hall, after looking at Hermione seriously for a moment. While he wanted to remind everyone that what they read were actions taken by actual people with emotions and circumstances many couldn't hope to grasp at their age, he was also directing it at Hermione. Her rebuff of Ron's amusing comment wasn't necessary, and he had a good feeling her lecture was stemming from guilt and nervousness… over what, he wasn't sure exactly.
Hermione caught his warning look and decided to stop there, even as she saw Ron looking towards the staff table, looking how one would when they were thoroughly chastised but tried to play it off in front of others. It wasn't normal for the freckled teen not to say something back, but it would seem Harry had already motioned for Ron to just let their sometimes bossy friend be.
They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.
Once again a few purebloods had to be reminded of the muggle postal service and its mechanics.
"Still weird," muttered Marietta to a slowly nodding Cho, who was still looking at the Gryffindor trio.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
"Make Harry get it."
Tonks was getting tired of this nonsense. "Get it yourself, you overblown lard."
"Lazy muggle, the lot of them," muttered McLaggen. Unfortunately for him, not softly enough as the muggleborn around him heard this and gasped.
"I suppose you would have gotten it if you were in his position?" questioned Penelope, beating Hermione by a heartbeat.
"I would have simply summoned the mail if need be, but then again we have owls, don't we?" was the sixth years response. He was confused. Why was Potter's friend calling him out? He's on the dudes side, making fun of his lazy muggle cousin and all. "What's the problem, Clearwater?"
Penelope rolled her eyes, which is when Hermione tagged herself in. "You know what the problem is. You could have simply accused my cousin of being lazy, I'm sure no one would have taken offense, but the muggle comment was unnecessary and you were aware of that if your muttering was any indication. It gives off the sense that you believe in blood purity."
"What? I don't! I was just saying… Merlin, forget it." The blonde haired boy turned away with a very unmanly huff, Hermione narrowing her eyes at him throughout.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," muttered Ron, his face half buried in his arms as he rested on the table, his elbow muffling his voice. Hermione heard but ignored him. Harry just continued to look at her, making the self proclaimed bookworm uncomfortable. Luckily, Ron continued on in a lighter tone. "I thought it was Harry's job to get on people's bad sides. Not ours."
The two shared a smile at their inside joke – Harry did have a singular way of getting to people. For his part, the bespectacled teen merely raised an amused eyebrow before turning back to the reading, nodding to a still irked Penelope to see she that she was alright.
"Get the mail, Harry."
"Make your son get it," scoffed Katie.
"Make Dudley get it."
Katie and Harry shared a smile.
Harry had been feeling testy lately, and he wasn't in the mood to get the mail for the fat lard in front of him, as though he were some surf. Usually he'd simply do as he was told. It was a simple task after all. He didn't feel like getting the mail today, however, knowing they were teasing him on the fact that he never got any.
"Harry," moaned the girls at the table, even as the guys groaned, "Potter." No one at the table wanted to see their friend and peer get hurt due to something as easy as getting the mail. He really did have a penchant for upsetting his relatives and this time the staff couldn't say anything in his defense other than they themselves may have stopped caring about the consequences in a similar situation. Being verbally abused and emotionally neglected daily were hard things to handle without exceeding your limits to care – it would hurt too much eventually.
Fortunately for him, Vernon was in a humorous mood. "Lash him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
"That's petty," Tracy snarked.
"That's immature," said Daphne.
"That's gross," muttered Lily… all at the same time.
Hooch was quietly hollering off (oxymoron intended) to Minerva. "That man is terrible; encouraging his son to beat on Mr. Potter. No wonder the boy goes around being a bully in the first place."
"Aye," McGonagall acknowledged with a gold glare of her own at the book. "I'm just glad Harry avoided that type of imprinting and turned out to be the better man for it. Nothing short of a miracle." She once again glared at her long time friend and mentor, Dumbledore.
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight,
"Wight is lovely! I went there with my family last summer," whispered Justin Finch-Fletchley to his amused friends.
a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry.
"Your first letter," Hermione smiled as he stared at the book wistfully.
Fleur felt he looked especially cute whilst wistful, before she blinked at the sudden thought and held Bill's hand tighter.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives
Once more, Harry received pitying looks from the hall. Letters were a form of acknowledgement, after all, and to have never received a single one meant that there really was no one out there for the young, neglected boy. Remus felt ashamed, having never written to Harry. He doubted the letters would have gotten through, but at least he would have been able to say he tried. Now, he couldn't face Harry or Sirius knowing that he could have been there for the son of his best friends, but chose not to. Emmeline, who had tried, felt a similar shame that her letters hadn't managed to get through.
- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
"Your Hogwarts letter?" questioned Alicia, to which Harry nodded. Most of the hall had figured it out by now. After all, how many letters got as specific enough that they were to pinpoint your exact sleeping location? Speaking of which…
"Do you mean to tell me that the envelope itself said Mr. Potter was sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, and you lot did nothing about it?" questioned Madame Bones. McGonagall opened her mouth with what the monocle wearing witch could only assume was a prepared response, but she cut her off. "I'm well aware of the classified founders spell that covers the magical isles and allows one to grasp where an immature, fluctuating core is, and invite them to our school properly. Such magic is truly spectacular and beyond comprehension. What I'm also aware of is that you and the other heads of house are supposed to check said letters before they go out."
While the students were almost gaping at the extraordinary spell the founders had cast across Wizarding Britain, Minerva and the other heads of house were looking ashamed that they had been caught slacking on their jobs. All except for Severus Snape, that is, who merely sneered at the Head of the DMLE before she leveled her a glare at him that made his sneer vanish immediately. It was most amusing to Harry.
"Whether this could have been prevented or not is irrelevant," voiced Dumbledore. "The letters were sent out that summer, so I doubt there is much of anything we could have done for Mr. Potter by that time. In hindsight, I'm sure I am to blame as well for not keeping a closer eye on my staff, and I ensure you I will do so in the future."
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
The students and even a majority of the people at the staff table smiled in remembrance of their Hogwarts 'acceptance' letter. Even the stoic purebloods who acted superior to the school they were enrolled in couldn't help but feel a little glad when they thought about their formal enrollment into the institution.
The moment Harry had picked it up, he knew there was something special about the letter.
"Something special, indeed," muttered Moody. He was looking at Harry very closely, as though he were an enigma.
Kevin Entwhistle, a friendly looking Ravenclaw in Harry's year, spoke up. "It was the same way for me. The moment I got my letter, I just knew that it was going to change my life. A gut instinct, if you will." His friends and other muggleborns nodded in agreement.
It was as though all other sounds grew muffled and distant. His vision sharpened, focusing on the thick letter in his hand. All was inaudible, save for his calm breathing and the heightened sound of his fingers going over the crinkles and creases of the parcel.
"Okay, maybe not exactly the same way for me," said Kevin, looking at Harry curiously along with everyone else. The boy was just weird when it came to magic.
Draco simply rolled his eyes. 'Overdramatic, much?'
He was brought back to reality by a shout. "Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.
"I don't get it," said the twins in monotone.
"That's because it's not funny," replied Hermione. Letter bombs weren't a joke!
Harry was blocking them out, focusing on how stupid he was for not opening the letter in the hall. Though, when he heard the twins ask what letter bombs were, he motioned Hermione not to say anything. The last thing they needed was for the twins or anyone else getting any ideas… then again, it was rather self explanatory, wasn't it?
Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter.
Alicia winced. "Harry, you're going to get in trouble somehow, aren't you?"
Harry could only smile at the pretty girl apologetically, making his friends groan.
Had he been in his right mind, Harry would have sneakily hidden the letter in the umbrella stand on the way to the kitchen and came back for it. There was no telling what his relatives would do, after all.
People shook their heads knowing Harry should have done exactly that. They didn't get why he wasn't able to think clearly – it was just a letter. Then again, none of them had ever gone without receiving correspondence from anyone their entire lives (on top of having no friends or family) and then suddenly being written to in such detail.
Harry himself was wondering just why he was so distracted as well.
As it was, he was too focused on his first ever letter to think clearly, and he handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.
"This should be good," mumbled Michael Corner, a little peeved by the way his girlfriend was currently sending Potter worried looks.
Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. "Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. -."
"Hmm… maybe they won't notice it. They ignore Mr. Potter often enough," voiced Professor Sinestra.
"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"
"Then again, perhaps they will," frowned the astronomy teacher. The hall groaned as Dudley once again spilled the beans on Harry.
"Of course he would," growled Ron. The boy seemed to love getting his best friend in trouble, and that was not okay.
Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.
"Ohh. Ickle Harrikines won't like that," stereo'd the twins.
"Seriously? Hasn't that man ever heard of personal space?" sneered Bill.
"I doubt it," joked Harry. "His gut usually invades mine without the least bit of consideration." Everyone smirked or chuckled at that. He had nothing against size, rather he was very understanding of wanting to eat your fill, but he called things as they were and held no punches when it came to his relatives.
"Not to mention some laws stating you can't open another person's mail," Hermione huffed. "Even if they are your supposed guardians, they sure as hell don't act like it. They have no right!"
"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.
"Told you," sing-sang the twins.
"You tell 'em Harry!" Tonks nodded with a firm nod. With her background, she of all people especially appreciated a teen's personal space.
It amused Harry that she was talking to his younger self when he was sitting right across from her.
Molly swelled up. "No, you don't 'tell them'! You don't say anything at all. Those horrible people shouldn't be anywhere near you, but by Merlin don't you be doing anything to antagonize them. Let them read what they like, you just stay safely out of the way young man."
Harry just stared at her with a completely baffled look on his face. Not only did he have little desire to be told how to treat his relatives by anyone else, but he also thought the Weasley matriarch knew him better than that. Let people get away with doing something wrong? Not hardly. One way or another, now or much later, he'd set things right. That's just who he was.
He wasn't the only one giving the curvy witch an exasperated or even annoyed look in Tonks' case, which was funnily enough mirrored on her parents faces. The Weasley kids looked utterly embarrassed by their mom practically commanding Harry Potter to do something as pathetic as to essentially roll over and take it, while Fleur and a few others at the table looked at the woman as though she were insane.
"Your mother is… certainly different," murmured Fleur.
Bill blushed even redder than his hair as his head dipped a bit. "Yeah, she has some weird moments."
"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it.
Charlie was getting tired of hearing about the pathetic man. "Merlin, I want to slug this guy."
The guys and girls at the table nodded subconsciously except a stoic Harry.
"Oh, yes. Ron's very well acquainted with slugs," came the ethereal voice of Luna Lovegood. The entire table stopped mid-nod and turned slowly to eye the blonde girl carefully. She looked as though the strange looks pointed at her didn't bother her in the least as the reading continued. In fact, Harry could've sworn her lips twitched when she saw Ron's embarrassed face.
His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.
Kingsley Shacklebolt whistled appreciatively. "I must say, Mr. Potter. You give quite the vivid descriptions. You'd make a fine auror if you could tone back the fantastical a touch." Amelia and Moody nodded in agreement.
This got Harry's attention, even as the hall struggled to picture a man capable of flowing through facial colors so rapidly.
Unknown to Harry, Susan noticeable perked up at the thought of Harry being an auror like her father and aunt, something Hannah noticed.
"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.
"Drama queen," sneered Ginny.
"Wouldn't that make him a drama king?" questioned Katie. Ginny shrugged.
"Non', definitely a drama queen," giggled Gabrielle, joining the conversation and bringing smirks all around.
Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach.
"Why would your cousin want your letter," asked Lisa Turpin. "It has nothing to do with him."
Harry snorted. A Ravenclaw should've been able to recognize that his cousin loved getting him in trouble by now. It had been supported thrice in the last chapter. "Because the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
Lisa nodded at that and turned away. Her table looked at her strangely. It was obvious Dudley was a jerk, after all. When a blush spread across her face and she stole a glance at Harry, it became clear to a few girls such as Cho and Padma that she had asked the question just to talk to the subject of the story.
Andromeda and the adults, meanwhile, were getting tired of the interruptions every sentence.
Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.
"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"
"Definitely a drama queen," muttered a skeptical looking Fay.
They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Unlike Harry, Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp swat on the head with his Smelting stick.
The Weasley's, nay, most of the school was wide-eyed. If any of them thought about hitting their parents with a stick because they couldn't see something that wasn't theirs to begin with… well, it wouldn't be pleasant for them. To think that this spoiled child could get away with it simply because he was ignored for a few seconds was too much.
"Mom would kill us if we ever hit dad," whispered Ron to the pained nods from his siblings. "Not physically, mind you, but we'd definitely be so deaf and hungry that we'd end up offing ourselves, I reckon." The table chuckled at the boys priorities and the image of Molly screaming their hearing away.
Angelina winced. "What's wrong, Angie?" Alicia questioned her friend in concern.
"Nothing, I just pictured what my parents would do if I were to do that to them. I'd be sooo grounded."
"You know… I don't think my parents would mind much, really?" Hermione chewed her lip as she looked at the ceiling. She knew she was spoiled to an extent, but only because her parents were practically her best friends before Hogwarts and she was their little angel. She didn't have anyone else, really. "A talking to, perhaps, but they wouldn't freak out."
"Lucky," mumbled Ron. "I bet if Harry did that he'd get his ass handed to him." Ron realized what he'd said too late as almost the entire Gryffindor student body heard him and sent him looks that ranged from dumbfounding to outright glares. Ron could care less about them as he quickly looked to his best friend to see how he'd taken it. Expecting a justified lashing of some sort, especially considering how unstable Harry had been so far this year and how sensitive this topic was, Ron was surprised to see his friend smirking at him.
"I bet you're right, Ron." The strangely ominous response didn't leave a good feeling in the pit of Ron's stomach. It felt as though he'd swallowed a ball of lead, and Hermione didn't look much better.
"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.
Cries of "brat", "incorrigible child", "pig", "that's insulting to pigs", "I don't sound like that… do I," sounded around the hall.
"Harry should read it, seeing as it's his" said Susan at the Hufflepuff table.
"I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."
Susan blushed when Harry looked at her for a moment, a shy smile on her lips – a smile that instantly disappeared when she saw her best friend glaring at her like only a girlfriend could, though it was quickly replaced by an innocent look that fooled no one. She looked back to catch Harry's eye but he'd turned away, leaving only Hermione to stare at her fellow Dumbledore's Army peer. The two locked gazes. Hermione turned away first, worrying her lip over what she saw in Susan's eyes.
"Uh-oh," said Ron. "Harry is getting mad."
"What?" said Neville. He had known Harry for four, almost five years. He knew everyone could get angry, and he'd seen his peer angry a few time, but never anything that lead him to believe that Harry was… mad-angry. He couldn't picture the raven haired teen as anything other than controlled.
"So, when Harry gets angry, you'd best leave," said Hermione with a serious face. Now Neville was a bit concerned. If Hermione thought Harry had anger issues, then perhaps there was truth to it after all.
Hermione turned from the round faced boy and stuck her tongue out at Harry. Usually he'd be pouting playfully at her, but truth was his friends had hardly ever seen him at his angriest, the one time being in the Shrieking Shack when he thought Sirius Black had still murdered his parents. He had scared them at the time, and that was while controlling it… He was a little concerned with what they'd think of him after this reading and his confrontations with both Voldemort and Tom Riddle, as well as his Aunt Marge.
"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.
"At least he didn't punish you for yelling, or should I say, breathing," mused Parvati.
Lavender nodded. "Now all you have to do is walk away and-"
Harry didn't move.
"- or not." Lavender looked to her fellow lion with exasperated eyes that he easily ignored.
Whether due to some foreign magic on the book, which Harry suspected was the case, or just well chosen readers, the reading thus far had been accurate in its delivery. Yells, whispers, etc. He considered the fact that the book had a spell of sorts on it that compelled those reading to read exactly what was on the page, word for word, emotions and all so as to avoid being dull and inaccurate. Translation: it was spelled to not be read like Binn's teachings on skewed Goblin history.
Thus it was that Ted Tonks boomed the next lines, catching everyone off guard.
"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted, the china on the kitchen table clattering forebodingly.
"And that, ladies and gentleman, is the famous Potter temper," quipped the twins, taking in all the shocked faces on their fellow students. If Ted Tonks' interpretation was anything like how Harry sounded at the time, the boy had real passion behind his words.
"Your father was the same way," Remus said wistfully. Harry smiled at the man who barely managed to return it before once again looking away in shame. This caused a concerned Tonks to frown.
"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.
"Shuut uuup," drawled all of the Weasley males at the table, much to the amusement of their friends. Percy looked at them laughing and talking in sync with a mild bit of jealousy. He missed his family, though it was clear in his mind that they didn't miss him.
"OUT!" roared a concerned Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.
Instead of commenting on whether or not the boys got hurt, like his wife no doubt wanted to do, Arthur – always a sucker for details - turned to Harry. "I'm surprised he was strong enough to pick his son up with his shirt alone."
"Ah, don't underestimate the power of daddy walrus," Fred corrected.
"Able to carry several icky-walruses without breaking his back," joked George.
While Arthur rolled his eyes at his sons, Harry just smiled. "Honestly, I think gravity did most of the work once he had him up and pointed to the door."
Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley eventually won due to a low blow to his groin,
"Hey!" males across the hall were offended by that particular bit.
"Ouch…" groaned Dean. "Sorry mate."
"Oi, that's a low blow!" roared Oliver and Seamus. The girls and adults winced in sympathy.
so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.
"Well, at least you tried. He is bigger than you after all, and seems to fight dirty" reasoned a slightly disappointed Bill. He had hoped Harry would at least pack a punch himself, but he figured it only made sense that the larger person would win.
Harry shook his head, not letting on that he was no longer inferior to Dudley physically and thus could care less about what happened way back then.
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"
The hall rolled their eyes as one at how paranoid and delusional the woman was.
"Like any wizard would waste their time watching you," sneered Smith. The way he said it rubbed Harry and a few others the wrong way.
'I see nothing has changed. You're still just as self-important as ever, Petunia,' thought Snape.
"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.
"Oh, Morgana," groaned Professor Vector. These people were nutjobs.
"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want -"
"Ha! As if the Wizarding World would accept Harry Potter not coming back," barked Hagrid, to the nods of the majority of everyone there.
This actually alarmed Harry. Did they honestly think he was just some symbol, some icon or celebrity that was needed? Not a person with actual options and decisions? He didn't like the thought of his life being dictated by others, let alone the people who have already shown how fickle they can be.
"Not to mention the Dursleys wouldn't even be able to write to Hogwarts. Would they?"
Dumbledore ominously said, "There are ways." Colin's question otherwise went unanswered as the reading continued.
Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.
"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything..."
"He seriously thought that was going to work?" scoffed Dean. "Just ignore it and they won't bother again?"
"Ha! How'd that turn out for them," grinned Charlie.
"Not well," Harry grinned back before turning curious. "Though, I always wondered how it was that I was accepted to a school I hadn't even applied to in the first place. Madame Bones already answered that question. Truly, the founders were powerful magicals to create such a spell. I'm also aware that Hogwarts is a Ministry funded school, and is thus free of tuition sans the expenses for materials. Still, I'm sure I wasn't the only one confused upon receiving the acceptance letter."
And he was right. Muggleborns and half-bloods alike admitted to being confused.
"Perhaps that's something you can look into, on top of monitoring your letters and accompanying muggleborns into Diagon Alley and their standard staffing duties," mused Amelia Bones, to the disgruntlement of the teachers, some of whom teared up dramatically at the thought of more tasks. So much work!
"What I don't understand," spoke Professor Vector, "is why they wanted to keep you from coming here. Surely they would have appreciated not seeing you for some time?" She said this with no offense or bite in her words, merely making an observation.
Harry shrugged. "True, but then they'd have to give up their house slave and risk me learning magic – something they wouldn't allow to happen if they had any say in it." This answer didn't please anyone in the hall, except maybe perhaps Umbridge and a handful of Slytherins.
"But -"
"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd STAMP OUT that dangerous nonsense?"
The atmosphere dimmed once more, as though the ancient Great Hall itself was responding to the words from Vernon. Not a single face in the hall was smiling, nor a single soul in the masses not offended on some level or another. Their numerous faces ranged from cold and uncaring to dark and hateful. 'Dangerous nonsense?' they thought as one. He spoke of them as though they were insignificant, freakish, unnatural and something to detest. The mammoth-sized muggle man didn't know the meaning of dangerous but he was at the risk of finding out via several hundred wands.
More importantly, the majority of the people there overlooked the prejudiced stance of one Vernon Dursley in lieu of focusing on the latter part of his sentence. It was Aberforth Dumbledore that broke the silence in the hall. "Stamp the dangerous nonsense out of you, eh?"
Harry nodded ever so slightly, well aware of the cold hostility permeating the Great Hall at the moment and not wanting to add to it or share just how hard they tried to stamp it out of them.
Aberforth cleared his throat and looked carefully at the bespectacled teen, even as everyone held their tongues. Many wanted to insult the Dursley's, or question Harry on just what they meant by stamping it out of them in spite of knowing exactly what it meant. Even Moody looked to have a comment or two on the tip of his gnarled tongue, but no one spoke. No one broke the silence as Aberforth gathered his thoughts.
Such prejudice reminded him of his own father, nearly word for word.
"And did they?"
The question wasn't loud or boisterous, but the impact it had on Harry in the silence surrounding him was substantial. He couldn't answer right away, not that the younger Dumbledore brother would have appreciated that. Instead he honestly thought about it. It was clear that he still had his magic about him, but more importantly, did he lose a portion of himself in the process of maintaining it? Flashes of all the abuse he'd taken over the years played across his mind, the majority of which was just sheer apathy and disdain towards him. He could honestly say he may have lost a bit of it, but then he remembered the person he was today. The things he had accomplished to get here and the friends he had made in the process… All of this added up to the only response he could give.
"Some days are better than others… but no. Never."
It was honest. It was neither grandiose nor deceptive. He struggled with it to this day, but they never succeeded in their goals so there was no use blowing it up and crying over it. At the same time he couldn't say it was easy. It was far from it.
Apparently he'd said the right thing if Aberforth's nod of understanding was anything to go by. "Tuesdays," he said.
After waiting for the man to continue alongside the rest of the hall, including a curious Perenelle Flamel, only not to receive further elaboration, Harry finally asked. "Tuesdays?"
"Aye… I find Tuesdays are usually easier for me." He turned his gaze from his brother who had been staring at him in sorrow, back to the young man that this all rested on.
Harry thought it over before nodding ever so slightly, a small smile teasing his lips. They understood one another on some level.
The rest of the hall sort of grasped this, and thus all of their questions, concerns, and remarks concerning Vernon Dursley and his treatment of his nephew washed away from their minds. They were still angry, but they couldn't break the silence that had once again descended on the frigid hall. After a spell or two spent pondering on what he'd just seen, Ted Tonks decided to continue.
That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
"This outta be good…" murmured Professor Sinestra. The other adults looked just as cautious about the development.
"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"
"Please be careful, Harry," pleaded a concerned Angelina. She understood that an injustice was being done, but she didn't want her brave friend to get hurt any further by testing the horrid walrus.
"He's a brave lad," said Kingsley to a nodding Amelia and Moody, the former of which wrote something down in her notes.
"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly, his massive frame blotting out the light from the kitchen. "I have burned it."
"He can't do that!" said Hermione as similar cries of outrage rose up in the hall. "That's your property! Your first letter!"
The staff and guests snorted at the foolish man's attempts to prevent Harry from coming to Hogwarts.
"Not that it would even do them any good," bit out Tonks, the ever-independant auror hating the totalitarian Vernon with every fibre of her being. "Hogwarts would just keep sending more. Enough to choke him with, I hope."
"They did, but I don't think he could comprehend that at the time," Harry tried to explain, grasping both the auror and the bookworms' hands gently.
Ginny was beside herself. "'Course the bastard didn't think of it. He doesn't seem to think at all, does he? It even had your cupboard on it, for Merlin's sake! How does he expect you to think its some mistake?!"
Harry just smiled sadly at the irate redhead and shrugged. He was grateful they all cared so much about him, truly moved, but what happened back then was ultimately inconsequential as he ended up where he was supposed to be regardless. He had a feeling he would need to keep himself from reminding them of that every time they got worked up over something.
"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it even had my cupboard on it."
"See!" crowed Ginny victoriously, "You tell 'em Harry!" The Gryffindor table jeered their vehement agreement.
"Ginerva Weasley! Don't encourage Harry to pursue such foolishness, not if you care for him proper! He'll only get hurt for the trouble." Once again, the well intending but overly protective Molly Weasley let her opinion be known across the hall. Her daughter's ears burned brightly at such a public rebuke, and her sons ducked their heads, thoroughly embarrassed by association.
Harry opened his mouth to defend his friends, but Emmeline Vance spoke first from the guest table.
"I rather disagree entirely, Molly. It's clear that Mr. Potter has already been abused frequently regardless of never warranting such horrible treatment. That vile man needs no provocation to be a monster." A cold look entered her eyes that shocked some people, before it passed. "That being said, it's also as Harry pointed out previously - they won't kill him." The dark thought quieted the entire hall and even earned the witch looks of reproach from many of the other adults, but she pressed on. "So if he didn't stand up for himself, then quite frankly in this situation and perhaps his entire young life thereafter, no one else would have. I believe Mr. Potter showed great courage and a strong moral compass in this case, and such fortitude should never be written off as 'foolish'."
Most of the adults looked as though they'd swallowed a sour grape, as Ms. Vance all but said 'Fuck the repercussions, let him be a man," but Harry - and the likes of Sirius, Moody, and even Tonks - understood where she was coming from and agreed with her completely.
"Er, thanks. Please, Ms. Vance, call me Harry," he managed to say over the din of ongoing conversation in the hall.
She caught his eye and replied in kind, "Only if you call me Emmeline. We've much to discuss when this is done Mr Pot- erm, Harry."
Harry, somewhat confused, nonetheless sent the rather pretty witch - who was already on the receiving end of quite a few lectures from the staff and a puffy cheeked Molly Weasley - a thankful smile which she surprisingly returned in full force.
"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, slamming a meaty fist into the wall, causing a couple of spiders to fall from the ceiling.
The hall jerked as Ted screamed in a manner similar to Vernon. Ron shuddered at the mere mention of spiders, and Harry clasped him on the back even as the twins frowned.
He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, a horrific grimace which looked quite painful.
Gabrielle winced. "I'm sure in the dark cupboard, it was quite frightening."
Harry nodded. It honestly had been. His uncle had never smiled at him before, so it was quite unnerving.
"Er - yes, Harry - about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... we suppose you're getting a bit big for it... we think it might be prudent if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.
"Getting a bit big? Getting?! You're kidding me with this poppycock," said Anthony Goldstein.
"Are they seriously trying to be nice to you right now?" asked Hannah.
Harry nodded. "He was scared. Fear makes people do some crazy things, I suppose." He nodded in faux sympathy. "Even going so far as trying to be decent to your nefarious nephew."
Perenelle laughed at Harry's odd (ie. bleak) humor, but hardly anyone else did. Hermione gave his hand a firm squeeze.
"Well at least he's moving out of that horrid cupboard," Morag said to her fellow Ravenclaws.
"No," said Mandy softly. All eyes turned to the normally quiet beauty of their house that year. "Too little, too late. Harry should have, at the very least, shared Dudley's room from the very start…"
The others nodded their heads solemnly at the blunt truth of the matter.
"Why?" asked Harry, cautious of the sudden kindness.
"Smart. I'd be paranoid, too," said Blaise. Harry nodded at him in thanks for the compliment, though his eyes quickly roved to Tracey who locked eyes with him for a split second. He smiled familiarly at her, before realizing many students were still looking at him and he quickly turned back to the reading.
Tracey bit her lip when Harry turned away, wondering what was going through his head when their eyes met. She could feel the gaze of her peers on her, Daphne in particular looking at her with a conflicted expression. She never told her best friend about her odd relationship with Harry, and even she could see the familiarity they shared in that look.
'A problem for a later time,' she told herself.
"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle.
Flitwick muttered something about asinine apes under his breath, while his house of 'Claws looked almost constipated at the thought of not asking questions. Hermione's brow was so furrowed, Harry had to bite his cheek at the sight.
"Take this stuff upstairs, now. And be grateful for it!"
Penelope scoffed angrily. "He can't help but be a despicable, miserable arse, can he? Even when he's trying to play nice, for completely ulterior motives, he's just a pathetic shite through and through."
Harry looked at the recent graduate with surprise. He liked Penelope. She was his favorite prefect in his early years and they'd grown fairly close after the events of his second year wherein she'd been petrified alongside Hermione, but in all that time he'd never heard her swear. He'd never even seen her riled up before aside from her breakup with Percy. This reading was just full of surprises, as the former Head Girl looked first spiteful and then just sad.
Tonks patted the younger witch on the back in a sign of comraderie before she whispered just loud enough for Penelope and the nearby Delacour's to hear. "We'll get them back one day. All of them. For everything."
The darkness in the aurors tone surprised the younger woman, but not so much as the fierce nods from the eavesdropping veela sisters or her own absent minded nod. She didn't recognize it at first - and even now couldn't really understand why - but she was quite protective of Harry, and this man, this Vernon Dursley, would pay one day for all that he'd done to the poor boy.
For his part, Harry just eyed the four woman warily as their gaze turned both resolute and predatory.
The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms:
"Come again?" blinked Padma. "Four? But there's only three Dursley's…"
She wasn't the only one confused.
one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge),
"Then that should've been your room!" snapped Katie, gritting her teeth at the irrationality - the sheer scumminess - of the Dursley's maintaining a guest room while Harry slept in a cupboard.
Andromeda huffed angrily. "What are those monsters playing at?!"
Indeed, the whole hall felt the Dursley's could sink no lower.
one where Dudley slept,
"He definitely wouldn't have fit in the cupboard," mumbled Lee Jordan mockingly.
Alicia glared at the book as though it were Harry's relatives themselves. "No, but I reckon he deserves squeezing in one infinitely more than Harry does."
"Might have done his fat arse some good," sneered Angelina.
and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom.
"What in Merlin's name?!" screeched Hermione. "You can't possibly be serious." She came from an affluent family home, where there were always rooms to spare, but they were utilized logically - ethically - and they only had the three of them living there. Never would she condone something like this! A toy room while her best friend lay cramped and shivering in a dark cupboard.
Ron blew out a hot breathe in frustration. Even as poor as his family was, they had plenty of room for all of their kids to comfortably share bedrooms. Dudley couldn't even share his second room, it seems. The insufferable bastards!
Dumbledore looked downtrodden at the actions. He was already getting another earful from his staff and long-time friends.
Across the hall, people were once again readjusting their impression of the Harry Potter and his childhood, proving themselves wrong in the shared thought that the Dursley's could already stoop no lower.
It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room.
"That's sad… what did you move?" Luna stared at Harry with her big blue eyes.
The sudden question threw Harry for a second before he quickly surmised, "A few ratty sweaters, a plain shirt, a couple of hand me down pants and trousers from Dudley, and my blanket."
The list was so bare, so minimum, it made his classmates and friends even sadder.
Fleur rattled off in surprise. "That's it? No journal, no toys, or books, or-?"
"-no pillow?" Penelope supplied.
Harry shook his head. "They said I didn't need a pillow. I never got toys or books, and anything I might have found and hidden was eventually discovered and either thrown away or given to Dudley." The girls were looking at him with damp eyes again, the boys not far behind. He shrugged, as though mechanical at this point. "I thought about keeping a journal, but even if I could hide it, it wouldn't do me any good. I -apparently- have an uncanny sense of recall, and no one would want to read my thoughts anyway."
Through the somber mood rippling outward through the Hall from Harry's retelling, it wasn't lost on most people that they were in a sense reading Harry's journal now.
He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken.
'Including himself,' Mandy thought sadly, unknowingly mirroring the thoughts of Perenelle, Tracey, Emmeline, and several others.
The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog;
These mundane items were quickly explained in passing by those with muggleborn friends, though the Slytherin's regrettably didn't have such luck and none of them dared the ire of their peers to ask a muggleborn from Ravenclaw for help. The newly informed magicals, as well as the muggleborns or half-bloods in the hall, grew increasingly baffled at the assortment of expensive toys the eleven year old Dudley possessed.
in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled;
Kevin Entwhistle's jaw dropped in shock while the staff tutted at such behavior. Televisions weren't cheap!
there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle,
"Waste of a trade, though I'm glad the parrot got away from the oaf," said Dean. He always did like birds and found guns for the most part uncomfortable or uninteresting. "He might've broken the poor thing as well otherwise."
which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.
The twins whistled at Harry's cousins' weight while the hall rolled their eyes at the boys carelessness.
Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched, though Harry would change that soon enough.
Padma scoffed. "Of course books were the only things that were safe from that idiot."
"Knowledge can indeed be terrifying, Ms. Patil," said Dumbledore wisely, though those who knew him could see his beard twitching in amusement. "Though I daresay, that reverent caution was not the sentiment shared by Mr. Dudley in this instance."
"No, I would say quite the opposite," squeaked Flitwick.
Penelope reached across the table and took Harry's now unoccupied hand in a quick squeeze. "I love that you enjoy books so much, Harry. Glad to see your habit started young at least."
Harry smiled back at her. "Books, on the rare occasion I could get my hands on them since I wasn't allowed a library card, were my only means of escape. That and my imagination, I suppose."
The pretty ravenclaw smiled sympathetically and squeezed his hand once more before drawing it back. Only belatedly did she notice a few of her tablemates staring at where her hands had been. She almost gulped at some of their ominous or unreadable expressions, particularly Percy's not so little sister, Ginny.
Fleur simply sent her a teasing smile that Katie would have mirrored had she not been staring at Harry herself.
From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother. "I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out..."
"Why that spoiled, small minded, piece of-" Harry quickly cupped Hermione's mouth before she could get started on an undoubtedly out of character - and vulgar - rant, though the rest of the table wasn't faring much better. Throughout the hall people called Harry's cousin all manner of names.
"Cry baby."
"Brat!"
"What a little bitc-."
"Mr's Weasley!" warned McGonagall in a huff, even as her fellow adults finished the Twins' train of thought.
"Talk about an actor! Almost as bad as Malfoy," sneered Ron.
Said boy somehow sensed the insult from across the hall and returned Ron's look with equal animosity.
Harry finally had to let go of Hermione's mouth when she went so far as to lick his palm, causing the both of them to blush afterwards and Tonks - who could guess what had happened - to raise her eyebrows at the bushy haired witch. The muggleborn found herself unable to meet the aurors look, even as her blush furthered and she bit her lip nervously.
Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cramped, damp cupboard with that letter than up here without it.
Harry dutifully ignored the looks of pity being sent his way.
"I think I would feel much the same way," murmured Fleur sadly. Bill gently took her hand in his once more.
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock.
Snorts were heard throughout the hall.
"I can imagine," scoffed Professor Vector. "Unaccustomed to not getting his way, no doubt."t
Professor Babbling shook her head sadly. "A lesson we all must learn sooner rather than later. Tsk. Such poor parenting."
He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back.
Most of the students looked dumbfounded. Those with stricter parents, like the Weasleys, were especially gobsmacked.
"He kicked his mother?" questioned a wide eyed Ginny.
Gabrielle was equally pale. "He whacked his father?"
"My parents would never have allowed that," muttered Charlie.
"No, nor mine either," said Tonks.
Indeed, up at the staff table, the various parents and guests were all muttering about how incapable the Dursley parents were.
Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall.
"Hindsight; what can you do?" Aberforth muttered over the hall bemoaning Harry's lack of foresight.
Harry smiled up at the man in appreciation for his defense.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.
"Oh, do get over yourselves," Katie snapped.
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be decent to Harry for the first time in his life,
The men in the hall especially sent dark looks at the book here.
made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall.
Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -'"
"Do they have to be so specific," murmured a murose Daphne to her friends.
A small but clear laughter rang throughout the hall. All eyes turned accusingly to Ms. Vance. "I know I shouldn't laugh at the fact that these letters are so morbidly specific, but if I don't laugh Mr. Potter… I'm likely to cry at the bitterness of the situation."
Harry once again sent the witch an honest smile and a nod. "I understand completely. It is rather funny, in a tragic sort of way. I mean, writing to 'The Smallest Bedroom'? It's so surreal, it's actually rather clever."
The Order member smiled prettily at him as the rest of the occupants in the hall managed to wrap their heads around the humor there. For Emmeline, it was as though she were somehow seeing a younger James Potter all over again. Her heart lurched ever so slightly at the thought.
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry bravely right behind him.
"Get em, Harry!" cheered Dennis and Colin Creevey.
Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind.
"Whoa!" No small amount of adults and students stared at Harry wide eyed.
"Harry!" scolded a fretful Hermione. "Aren't you worried at all? He'll hurt you!"
He looked her in the eyes even as others voiced their agreement with her. "What more could they do to me, Hermione?" The look in his eyes and his tone of voice were neutral, but something about his posture told her to just drop it.
"Oh, Harry…" she instinctively grabbed his hand again, or would have, if it wasn't quickly taken by an equally worried Ginny.
"You're so brave, Harry." She looked at him, but her face and voice were aimed at a now frowning Hermione, who pulled her hand back as discreetly as she could manage.
"Er- no. I-I don't think so. Uhm..." Harry was confused now. The odd look Hermione was sending Ginny and the fact that said redhead was holding his hand in an almost familiar way - and in front of ALL of her brothers no less - had Harry's head spinning. Confused didn't cover it. And why was Cho glaring at his direction?
Thankfully, he was saved as usual by Tonks, who planted her hand firmly on the one Ginny was using to hold his, which was quickly followed by Penelope, Katie, and even Luna. "Yes, you are brave Harry. And Ginny has the right gist of things - even if we can't change the past, we're here to support you now. All of us."
This prompted a suddenly smiling Hermione (who got a conspiratory wink from the auror), Ron, Gabrielle, Fleur, Bill, and even a shy Neville to throw their hands into the impromptu huddle in a show of support. Those on the table who couldn't comfortably reach the hand huddle smiled and nodded to Harry in a sign of camaraderie.
As they pulled away from the impromptu hand huddle, no one noticed that Ginny's smile somewhat lessened as she eyed her pink haired friend in slight hurt.
Ron then whispered to his best friends. "The way you jumped on Vernon reminds me of the troll in our first year."
Hermione blinked owlishly at the uncanny similarity and Harry could only chuckle bashfully.
After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
"Damn it." said Ernie Macmillon at the Hufflepuff table, as he handed a small galleon to Anthony Goldstein at the Ravenclaw table behind him.
"Are you two seriously betting?" scoffed a somewhat offended Hannah. "On Harry's well being?"
Ernie held up his hands. "Not on his well being. On who got the letter, totally different. Besides, I bet ON Potter. It was Goldstein who bet that Dursley bastard would get it."
Hannah could see over Ernie's shoulder that Anthony was indeed getting chewed out by his housemates over the exchange, led by Mandy Brocklehurst and Padma Patil.
Susan rolled her eyes at the whole thing. "Boys."
Harry was tempted to make another lunge for it,
"Relentless," said Moody with an almost appreciative nod.
The staff rebuked the veteran for encouraging Harry's daring, but Amelia agreed with her former mentor and wrote more down in her notes.
"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Tonks said, but her eyes held immense pride and something akin to awe as she regarded her younger friend.
Harry shrugged. "I'm certainly not a fan of it, no."
Penelope felt in that moment that Harry looked more - dare she say - manly than anyone at that table. His humility, his matter of factness, his resolve. It was different than anyone she'd ever met, even as a child it seems. 'I can see why they look at you like that,' she thought, as indeed Katie and Ginny were biting their lips and staring almost doe eyed.
but something in Vernon's eyes said he wouldn't let it slide this time, his attempts to put on a good show for any potential 'watchers' be damned.
"That bastard," muttered Remus. He was going to have a visit with Vernon when the reading was through and not even Dumbledore could stop him. His only concern was that he wouldn't get a chance at payback as Sirius would no doubt beat him to the punch. Sure enough, the thoughts running through a certain dog animagus in that moment put his ancestral surname to shame.
"For once, that man's paranoia is a good thing," muttered Andromeda.
Narcissa absently nodded, though she was focused on the young man in question. He was so intriguing, even as a child of ten.
"Boy… You test my generosity."
"Excuse me, his what?" asked Bill rhetorically.
"The pig has a sense of humor," Fleur said bitingly, her face an icy mask. Gabrielle Delacour was not amused by the man one bit as she began spouting off in french some rather choice words that her elder sister barely batted an eye to.
Everyone trained intensely dark looks at the book, knowing that this man physically beat their friend. Even the likes of Hermione and Luna had dark thoughts about what they may do to such a man.
"My lett-"
"You don't have a LETTER!" Silence echoed.
"Fuck him," muttered Tonks so soft that no one heard it. Her eyes grew red once more at the thought of Harry being denied what was his, and then being threatened over it.
McGonagall felt all sorts of guilt well up in her. As though reading her friend's mind, Pomona laid a hand on hers. "We'll make sure he never returns again, Minny." The transfiguration professor gave one look to a sorrowful looking Albus and nodded resolutely.
At the Slytherin table, different resolutions were being made.
"I'm going to hurt that man," whispered Tracey to her friends. She didn't know how or when, but she was going to hurt Vernon Dursley. Her friends said nothing to stop her, knowing how she was when she set her mind to something, and also agreeing with her.
"I'll join you," muttered Daphne. Lily nodded next to her blonde friend.
"Just… go. Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry.
Dudley smiled and made to reach for the letter himself, but was equally rebuffed.
"I'm going to hurt him, too," vowed Tracey.
"No! Dudley - go - just go."
"I hate your cousin, Harry," growled Angelina.
Lee Jordan shook his head, a firm frown set on his normally jovial face. "I believe we all do, Ang." The twins weren't even smiling.
Harry paced round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail.
"Always have a plan." Ted stopped his own reading to nod approvingly.
He had a plan.
"Uh-oh," bemoaned Ron. Harry looked at him in mock betrayal.
"Why? What's wrong?" asked a nervous Penelope.
Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "Well… Harry's brilliant, but his plans aren't exactly known for panning out."
Ron snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice. "Quite the opposite, I'd say."
The two friends shared a laugh that earned them both a playful slap on the head from their bespectacled friend. The group of friends and peers at the table, as well as the rest of the hall, smiled at the sight of the smiling trio, happy that Harry had someone in his life for him.
The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys.
"Something tells me this isn't going to work," winced Bill.
"Er, yeah Bill. They did. Just now." Ginny deadpanned at her brother while hooking a thumb to point at the smiling trio.
Bill colored as his sister embarrassed him, causing the others at the table to laugh even more. Through her giggles, Fleur laid a consoling hand on his shoulders, rubbing softly as she coo'ed at him. Harry smiled at the sight, but pretended to not notice the strange sensation in his chest.
He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first.
Kingsley nodded approvingly. "Not a half bad plan, Mr. Potter."
His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door - when he suddenly leapt into the air;
"Oh no," moaned Emmeline. She already had a feeling as to what it could be.
The first years flinched in their seats, wondering what happened.
he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat - something alive!
"Tell me it wasn't…" Katie half joked, half pleaded with her teammate. His bashful shrug was answer enough for the table as they all marvelled at their friends poor luck.
Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face.
"Haha! Nice one, Harry." The twins high fived, eager to ignore the possibility that Harry was likely to get punished having been caught for his little act. "Step on the old codger harder!"
Molly puffed herself up toi start a tirade, but Arthur quickly grabbed her hand and began speaking to her in soothing tones.
"Good." Gabrielle giggled at the twins antics, though her face sobered slightly. "That vile man deserves much worse." Harry shot her a curious look at her serious tone, which she returned with a coy smile that showed her - in his humble opinion - dastardly cute dimples.
Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do.
"The man's lost it," said Dean, shaking his head in faux sympathy.
"Talk about paranoid," sneered Pansy at the Slytherin table.
"Though, to be fair…" Blaise spoke evenly into the sudden quiet of his table. "...Potter did do exactly what the man assumed he would. I suppose paranoia isn't paranoia if it's true."
Draco and Nott sneered at their housemate, but Pansy simply regarded him before giving a slight nod, conceding. "I suppose."
Tracey, Daphne, and Lily saw Blaise blink in yet another surprise from Pansy, before the four friends - along with the rest of the hall - jumped in their seats when a sudden shout of "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" from Moody caught everyone off guard. Apparently, he also approved Vernon's reasoning and methods.
"I suppose he's the posterboy for paranoia," groused Daphne as she tenderly rubbed at her ears. The old auror could certainly yell.
He instinctively struck Harry across the cheek, whipping his head around from the blow, before attempting some manner of restraint.
The hall turned deathly quiet once more, the casual violence against a malnourished minor striking deep. Even Moody, smiling over his ability to catch the hall unawares, was caught off guard himself by the sudden turn of events. No one was smiling now.
"That bastard!" roared Remus, once again restrained by Arthur and Ted. Hermione and Ron gripped Harry's hands in theirs, more for their sake at this point. Similarly, many people throughout the hall began getting riled up at the thought of their friend, peer, and student being hurt yet again.
"Albus…" said Emmeline dangerously. "Mister Potter is never, ever, going back there." She locked eyes with the Headmaster as though daring him to refute her. "But rest assured that I certainly will be."
The threat hung in the air, added to the already charged atmosphere of the hall. Everyone was upset and uneasy, Harry's friends most of all as they shifted between glaring at the book and looking worriedly and sympathetically at their friend.
Harry, for his part, was caught off guard by Emmeline's statement. The protectiveness, the righteous fury in her words. She was by all intents and purposes a stranger, which lead to his confusion. How did she know his parents - it was quite clear that she did at this point - and why hadn't she said anything before, like at Grimmauld Place. Beyond that, he was moved, deeply, by an adult standing up for him so fiercely. It felt… nice.
She had no small amount of support, as apparently the majority of the hall and guests immediately voiced their vehement agreement with the pretty witch; even those who'd sided against him over the years seemed adamant that he never see his abusive relatives again. He felt oddly warm, even if the attention was much too great for his liking.
"I'll go with her," muttered Tonks.
"Mm, I as well," said Fleur.
"And I," said Katie and Penelope at the same time.
The witches all stared at each other before nodding in agreement, something that Harry didn't catch but Hermione certainly did through her own watery eyes.
What no one noticed, however, was the slight but visible nod of one Narcissa Malfoy at the words of her former schoolmate Emmeline. She, too, did not wish for this… interesting boy to return to those vile muggles.
The only one who appeared unmoved or disinterested in the whole affair was Umbridge, unsurprisingly.
Restraint being that he cursed at Harry for about half an hour, telling him what an ungrateful vermin he was, betraying their benevolence.
Sounds of disgust rang throughout the room. No one could believe the deluded nerve of Vernon.
"I bloody hate this man," said Charlie, his fist turning white. His brothers nodding along with him, each planning something rather horrible for the deplorable muggle.
"No," said Oliver Wood, for once completely serious about something other than quidditch. "He's no man. He's nothing but a coward and a bully."
"All these years, taking your sorry hide in, finally trusting you with a bedroom, and you spit on it immediately!"
"How do you do it?" Harry turned to look at Alicia who had tears in her eyes as she held an equally upset Katie's hand. "How do you be you, after all that? How did you come out so good?"
The hall, oddly enough, heard her question and all eyes turned to a suddenly very self aware Harry. Even Snape leaned forward to hear the boys answer.
"I…" Harry hesitated under all of the stares, scanning his palms for an answer, but only for a fraction of a moment. "I don't know. Truth be told, I don't think I am all that good. Decent, maybe sometimes, at least by someone's standard. But actually good?" He shook his head. "But I am trying." He looked back at Alicia, drowning out everyone else's faces as best he could, even as he felt an assuring hand on his leg from Hermione. "That's it - I just try. That's all I can do. It's what my parents would want, I think. More than that… it's what's right."
The hall remained quiet.
He shot the open mouthed chaser a shaky smile before returning back to his hands, avoiding everyone's gaze.
There was a lot on his statement for some people to digest, and Ted Tonks, not wanting the poor boy - the sweet, modest, amazing boy whom he would've loved to have had for a son - to be stared at any longer than he already had been, decided to continue the reading. Though the way his daughter looked at the boy in that moment was deftly logged away for the future.
Perenelle Flamel let slip a soft smile at her query. He was special indeed, just as Nicholas had told her he would be.
Working himself up until he was blue, Vernon eventually lost his energy and told him to go and make a cup of tea.
Cho scoffed at the mundane yet demeaning task following such a violent outburst. The Dursley's were something almost incomprehensible to her.
Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.
"I want -" he boldly began, but Uncle Vernon was viciously tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.
By now the hall expected no less from the brute, so they settled for glaring at the book. Even the staff and guests were glaring!
Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. Instead, he stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.
"He's getting more and more deranged," muttered a concerned Pomfrey.
"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."
"That's… not how that works. For any post - muggle or magical." Hermione was getting downright concerned at the mans bizarre behavior now. If he hurt Harry routinely under 'normal' circumstances, what might an unhinged Vernon be capable of. She glanced worriedly at her friend, reassuring herself that he was there and he was fine.
Harry and his aunt, their differences aside, shared a look of absolute dumbfoundment at the logic. "I-I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon sweetie."
"Even his wife is realizing just how insane he's acting," said a worried Parvati.
"He needs to be locked up," supplied Lavender.
"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.
Depending on who they were (or what table that sat at) the hall either scoffed angrily or laughed dismissively at that statement. Clearly, Vernon was one to talk about strangeness.
"We'll take that as a compliment from the likes of you, Dursley," said the Twins.
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry.
Whistles were heard around the hall.
As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced their way through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.
"I bet he wasn't expecting that," joked Ron.
"Talk about persistent! Are all Hogwarts letters like that?" asked Fay Dunbar, to which McGonagall nodded, her mind still elsewhere.
Uncle Vernon stayed at home once again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out.
"With each passing sentence, the man seems to lose what little intelligence he had to begin with," frowned a concerned Fleur. The man was abusive, sadistic, apparently an alcoholic, and now delusional. A worrying combination for anyone in his vicinity; in this case, Harry.
The women at the table nodded, each as concerned as the next.
He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at the smallest of noises.
"Get. Out. Of. There." said a wide-eyed Kevin at the Ravenclaw table. He'd heard that song growing up. It was creepy to begin with, but paired with what Vernon was described as and what he was currently doing, it made for a scene out of a horror film. Gabrielle, her vivid imagination wild at work, was of much the same mind.
Harry would have found the panic his uncle displayed amusing were it not so alarming and at the cost of his first ever letter. As it stood, he was growing worried the more desperate Vernon became.
Snape almost nodded. 'It would seem the stubborn boy has some self-preservation after all.'
Almost no one liked the thought of Vernon growing desperate, not even Malfoy.
On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.
"That's… excessive?" Padma said lightly.
Stephen Cornfoot shook his head. "I don't know… I'd be going crazy at that point, too."
"How does that even work?" questioned a bewildered Fay Dunbar. "Letters inside of eggs?"
"Magic," the twins grinned. Everyone rolled their eyes. If the professors knew the specifics, they weren't telling, though both McGonagall and Flitwick had smirks on their faces.
While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone
to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.
"That's just ridiculous," scoffed Mandy.
"The food processor bit or Dursley trying to complain to the dairy of all things?" asked Kevin.
"Both," Mandy said at the same time as Su.
"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.
"Oh, I don't know, only the whole wizarding world at that point?" Susan pointed out drly.
"Who wouldn't want to talk to Harry? He's brilliant." Hannah said, though louder than expected as Harry turned to give her a curious look. She blinked owlishly, well aware of the numerous eyes staring at her in that moment. Just as pink began to dust her cheeks, the emerald eyed boy smiled openly at her, a slight blush cropping up his own neck as well before he rubbed the back of his head bashfully.
Ron elbowed Harry in the side with a knowing smile, matched by his brothers, but the same couldn't be said for Hannah's best friend who also happened to be a redhead. Susan seemed a bit put out if her silence was anything to go by, but Hannah couldn't bring herself to care.
Amelia watched her niece and best friend interact with their crush, taking it in with an amused chuckle. 'Oh, to be young.'
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.
"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -"
Those unaware of the nature of post in the muggle world were confused as to why any day would ever affect getting one's mail delivered. After all, owls didn't need a day off or to acknowledge any particular beliefs or holidays.
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head.
The hall giggled as Vernon's assurity in being safe was humorously dashed.
"It's like the letters themselves are aware of things!" laughed Charlie.
"Sentient paper?" said Fred.
"Wicked," smiled George. They went about writing down notes, no doubt for some prank idea.
No one noticed Ginny twitching ever so slightly at the mention of sentient paper. It reminded her of Tom Riddle's diary and the fact that soon everyone in the school know about it. Her insides twisted at the thought. Suddenly a hand held hers, and she traced it to see Luna staring at her with her usual dreamy expression. She was surprised, however, to see a bit of concern in her eyes, and Ginny smiled thankfully at her childhood friend.
The next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets.
"Brilliant," smiled Colin.
The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one, noticing with a frown that none of the letters were remaining still or laying around on the ground.
Harry's friends groaned.
"Seriously, who designed these things?" asked Katie.
Hermione huffed. "You would think the letters would make it less of a challenge for their recipient, not more."
Flitwick looked bashful for reasons only the staff could discern.
"Out! OUT!"
Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist - but not before grabbing the seven letters Harry had already managed to snag and hide away - and threw him bodily into the hall.
The hall glared at the mention of Harry being thrown like a ragdoll, though some were impressed by his quick thinking.
"Bugger," muttered Tonks. "I'm surprised he managed to find all of the ones you hid."
Harry shrugged. "His paranoia had his senses on overdrive, I suppose."
"Seven?!" yelled Stephen Cornfoot in amazement.
"Well, he is the best seeker in the past century." said a proud Oliver Wood, rather loudly. His former quidditch team, excluding Harry, looked a little smug as well, something that set many of the other houses grumbling. They didn't have to rub it in!
The other current quidditch teams looked particularly annoyed (such as Roger Davies) or downright murderous (most of the Slytherin team), though a few were more accepting and looked amused, such as Cho.
"Oi!" barked Charlie, only half-joking. "What about me!?" He'd managed to see a bit of Harry's flying during the Triwizard Tournament, but had been too occupied by the dragon at the time to do much observing.
Tonks was curious about that as well. She'd knew Charlie from her own years at Hogwarts, and he'd been the best flyer in the school by a fair margin. Then again, she'd also seen Harry fly on his way to Grimmauld Place this past summer. From that brief showing alone, her money would have to be on the younger wizard.
"Sorry bruv, but Harry's got you beat by a quidditch pitch," Ron said, almost meekly. Charlie turned an affronted face from his youngest brother to an equally solemn but nonetheless nodding twins. Ginny had no such restraint in her cheeky nod, fully on Harry's side.
Bill laughed at the look of mock-hurt on his brother's face and added his own two cents in. "I'm no pushover on the broom, and Charlie makes me look like an infant, so I'm a little doubtful as well." His girlfriend gave him a knowing yet entertained look that said he was on the wrong side of history, but Bill plowed on regardless of the veela's warning. "We'll just have to see this in person! Soon as the reading's done - a quick rally on the pitch, eh?"
Charlie turned suddenly determined eyes from Bill to Harry, who hadn't said a word yet. The Boy Who Lived let out a sigh at all the expectant looks he was receiving before he eventually smiled. "Sure, sounds like fun. Though, you'll probably fly circles around me." Harry had no doubt Charlie was a fair flyer, as his reputation consistently preceded him. Maybe he was better than him, maybe he wasn't. He didn't want to risk upsetting his best friends brother by beating him, especially after they'd all been so kind to him, but flying was also one of the few things he enjoyed doing competitively. In the end, he would give it his best go.
As the twins opened up the betting pool to a far too participatory student body - over the protests of their Head of House and mother - Ginny let out a long suffering sigh. "If I had ten galleons, they'd be on Harry." Charlie looked at her, betrayed. "What? He's practically a rival to Krum in the air."
Harry shook his head quickly at such high praise, but when all eyes turned to Ron, the end-all-be-all of Krum fanaticism (prior to the previous year, at least) and saw his indulgent nod, Charlie couldn't help but gulp. 'What have I gotten myself into?'
At the staff table, the adults admired how modest Harry was being, even if the betting shenanigans were getting a little disruptive to the reading. As his wife continued to scold their wayward twins, Arthur smiled at his children and a boy he considered a surrogate son, competing and laughing as siblings should. 'As a proper family should,' he thought sadly. Something that the Durlsey's weren't in the least.
When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.
"I'd say that's excessive, but then again Harry has yet to read one either," mused Daphne.
Tracey nodded. "I don't think normal or conventional rational works all that often when it comes anything Harry related."
Daphne turned her head and lowered her voice so that only her best friend could hear. "'Harry', is it?" There was a strange tone in her voice; suspicious, and almost cold. "That's rather familiar..."
Tracey remained neutral on the outside. "Perhaps. Though… 'Potter' seems a touch removed after having read about his early life, don't you think?"
Daphne looked her friend directly in the eye. Tracey didn't back down. A dozen words were said and unsaid as blue met hazel before Daphne conceded with a nod. "I suppose you're right." The pretty blonde smiled then. "'Harry.' I like it."
'I do, too,' thought a relieved Tracey. She knew Daphne had her suspicions about her relationship with their shared crush, but until the book spelt it out for her, there was no use saying otherwise now.
He rounded on Harry who began protesting as he was checked thoroughly for any hidden letters. Even his shoes had been removed, and in the process, his uncle had discovered three more letters Harry had quickly pocketed and hidden in the chaos. He proceeded to rip them apart with a taunting glee, though his eyes held true malice.
"Bastard," muttered Katie. The man was cruel and petty and pathetic and she hated him.
"Indeed. However, I do love your quick thinking, Harry," said Penelope with a soft smile. "You really don't give up, do you?"
"No," said an exasperated Hermione, though nonetheless fondly. "He really doesn't."
"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time.
While the kids in the hall squealed or laughed at the mental image, the older students and adults looked worried.
"The man is beyond mental," said Emmeline, anger warring with concern inside of her.
He ignored Harry's attempts to get one over on him in lieu of addressing all of them. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"
The hall looked thoroughly confused, though the worry didn't decrease for the adults.
"What's going on?" asked Andromeda.
"I'm sure the book will explain, love," said Ted.
He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Even Harry stayed his tongue, alarm bells ringing that this was not normal behavior by any stretch.
The younger students who had laughed at the image of Vernon pulling his hair out before weren't doing so now. Tonks looked at Harry worriedly, not liking where this was heading.
Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.
"Please be careful," muttered Emmeline. She knew how dangerous cars could be at high speeds, having travelled through the mundane world quite often.
Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. It had been a love tap compared to the hits Harry routinely received.
"What an idiot," scoffed Seamus again. No one corrected him this time; even Ron was too concerned with the proceedings to glare at the 'traitor'.
Fleur sniffed angrily. "Of course he would not hit his 'precious Duddykins' with the same weight he uses against you."
"Of course not," Harry condeeded matter-of-factly. "He loves Dudley."
This, of course, only made the french witch - and indeed everyone else at their table - all the more furious as well as sad that Harry had never been loved. Even Neville couldn't say that his family didn't love him, with the exception of his uncle.
They drove. And they drove.
"How far are you going?" questioned a concerned Madame Maxine. While the students were suddenly reminded of her presence - something that would normally not have been an issue for the massive woman had the reading not been so enthralling - Hagrid turned to her and couldn't keep the smile off of his face. As he opened his mouth to answer her, seeing as he personally knew where Harry and the Dursley's would end up, Dumbledore intervened.
"I am sure, Olympe, that we'll find out shortly." The two heads of school nodded at one another and Dumbledore winked at Hagrid, having spared him from being a 'spoiler' for the others in the hall.
Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going.
"Oh grow a spine, woman!" growled Tonks. She hated weak, fretful prima donnas. The other witches at the table also nodded, quite upset with the sorry excuse of an aunt.
Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue nervously. "If even she's concerned…"
Sprout and McGonagall could only nod, truly worried.
Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.
"Seriously. Get out of there," said Kevin. His housemates turned to him. "What? I've seen too many horror films at home to know this doesn't end well."
While some of his peers were confused by what he meant, those who understood grew worried.
"If Potter was so smart, he'd see the warning signs and make a run for it," murmured Michael Corner.
"And how exactly is he supposed to do that, Corner? Jump out of a moving car on the highway?"
Michael opened his mouth to reply to Padma, but had no forthcoming answer and frowned as the others rolled their eyes at him. They all realized that Harry was truly trapped.
They didn't stop to eat or drink all day.
"Now even their son is missing meals?" Pomfrey had little empathy for the spoilt child, but he was exactly that - a child.
By nightfall Dudley was unbearable, howling and throwing a fit. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.
"Brat!" the hall cried, unempathetic to the overgrown bully.
"The lives you two live, despite living under the same roof, is practically night and day," Katie observed sadly.
"It's alright," Harry said, instinctively.
"No. It's not," Gabrielle said softly. Harry saw the looks he was getting from everyone, especially the ones from the women at the table, and looked back down at his own hands, unable and unwilling to continue the topic.
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets.
"At least they got you a bed this time," said Neville in an effort to cheer his friend up.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Something tells me it was more out of Vernon's paranoia about being watched - or judged by the hotel staff - than out of any kindness."
Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake through the night, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering...
"You do that often," said Luna quietly. The group looked at her. "If one observes you enough, which I admit I have, you have a habit. You stare out the window when you think no one's watching. Your eyes are distant, but you always look rather sad."
Harry didn't know what to say to that, and so he kept his mouth shut. This of course only made his friends feel worse. Hermione grabbed his hand, and Snuffles nestled into his leg.
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.
"Rubbish breakfast," muttered Ron, good humoredly, which Harry appreciated as the two smiled at each other.
"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."
"Don't tell me - more letter?" guessed Penelope.
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:
Mr. H. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth
"At this point, I'd say the only thing more relentless than our dear Harry are those blasted letters," joked George.
"Indubitably," agreed Fred pompously. Their friends each cracked a smile.
"Don't forget Vernon's paranoia," joked Cormac. "That's relentless too, perhaps more so than Potter's will."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that…" said George quite lamely. He hadn't forgotten and neither had anyone else.
Fred glared at the sixth year Gryffindor for spoiling the mood his twin was attempting to make.
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.
"Smart," said Moody. "Grabbing the letter in public so as not to cause a scene."
"Not that it worked," bemoaned Sinestra.
"If I were that hotel manager, I would have seen the signs then," said Percy Weasley confidently, speaking up for the first time. His family had differing reactions to hearing him speak, but he ignored them altogether.
"You think so?" questioned Amelia, though gently. "In my experience, abuse often goes overlooked and in many cases is never discovered. Mr. Potter, unfortunately, is now a prime example of that - and to such a horrifying degree."
Many people glared at the monocled witch for pointing out Harry's abuse so clinically, among them her own embarrassed niece, but others understood what she was trying to say. That the signs weren't always so visible or easy to see.
Perenelle Flamel smiled at the Director of the DMLE, glad that she was a strong witch with a firm head on her shoulders. She would need it, no doubt.
"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.
"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her.
"Hours later?" questioned Emmeline. This woman infuriated her! She was verbally abusive, criminally negligent, disgustingly petty, and at the very least an accomplice to physical abuse which was just as bad as being the one who threw the punch in her mind. Now that she drew the line at erratic behavior that may threaten her and her precious pig of a son, she still would wait hours to gather the courage to question her obviously insane husband! "She's hopeless, and her husband is a lunatic!"
Not everyone shared her sentiment.
"Sounds like a woman who knows her place," said Miles Bletchley at the Slytherin table. Many of the girls at the nearby Ravenclaw table, as well as most of his female housemates, went on to gawk and then glare at him.
"Sexist pig," Tracey snarled under her breath.
Lily and Daphne clenched their fists. These were the rare - but far too common nonetheless - pure blooded idiots who almost turned them off from boys altogether. After all, they were almost expected by society to date and marry within their house, as though by some unspoken taboo. After all, who trusted Slytherin's these days but their own. It sickened them.
Malfoy and his friends didn't look bothered in the least by their quidditch teammate's comment, something Narcissa could only laugh bitterly at inside. All of those children, so much like their fathers. It made her skin crawl.
However, Blaise and a surprising amount of other Slytherin boys narrowed their eyes at the fanatic pureblood. They were glad that none of the other houses could hear such filth from one of their own.
Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.
"What in Merlin's name has possessed the man?!" cried Molly Weasley.
"Are we sure he's not actually possessed?" half-joked the Twins.
"Maybe he's looking for a place to kill Potter," joked Zacharias Smith. Three-fourths of the hall glared at him with daggers, most of them quickly turning even more concerned. "It was just a joke," he defended weakly as their fear and anger bored a hole into him.
As Susan, Hannah, Leane and his fellow 'Puffs tore into him with rebukes, with no hope of rescue from an equally disappointed Sprout, many in the room began to think the tactless fifth year had a point.
"Oh dear god," muttered Remus for the umpteenth time that day, his brow furrowed in fear at the slim but nonetheless dark possibility.
"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon.
"Hate to break it to you, Duddykins," said Tonks, not remorseful in the least, "but your sorry excuse of a father was crazy long before our Harry came along."
Harry couldn't help but appreciate the way she said 'our Harry'.
"Glad the little pig is finally wisening up," said Gabrielle spitefully.
Uncle Vernon had eventually parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.
"The coast? That's quite the journey," blinked Professor Babbling.
"Why would he lock all of you in the car? Was he afraid of you lot running away from this madness?" No one answered Bill's rhetoric question.
Before Hermione could get a word out, Harry cut her off. "Yes, Hermione, the windows were rolled down so we could breathe, and it wasn't soo hot so as to pass out. In fact, it was a tad chilly." He could read her like a book at times.
She huffed, muttered something about not having access to a heater, and folded her arms defensively. This in turn made Ron and Harry chuckle at her motherly antics.
It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled. "It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "
"Tough shit," said Alicia. Just about everyone had, had enough of the spoilt lard's complaints and not even the teachers made move to reprimand the seventh year.
Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television - then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday.
"Oh, happy birthday, Harry!" said an incredibly cute first year in his house.
"Oh, it's not-" before he could finish, Harry already saw many of her yearmates berating her for being so silly. It clearly wasn't his birthday. He smiled at the well meaning girl. "I mean, thank you."
"Yes, happy birthday Harry," smiled a fond Fleur, followed by Penelope and soon the others joined in. The Twins going so far as to sing the birthday song in horrid off-beat syncro.
"Guuuyyys…" he bemoaned playfully, though he felt warm inside nonetheless. The adults all smiled at the sight of a smiling Harry.
Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun - last year, the Dursleys had generously given him a coat hanger.
Glares were directed at the book. Whenever they thought the Dursley's could get no more horrible, no more petty, they were surprised.
"And to think, they're using his monthly stipend on themselves and that horrid child of theirs," growled Andromeda, which threatened to start up a whole new argument at the table. Narcissa couldn't help but agree with her sister.
Still, you weren't eleven every day.
"That's true. Eleven was a fun year for me," said Ted, stopping briefly in his reading. The eleven year olds in the hall smiled.
"You've such a unique sense of humor, Harry," smiled Leanne at the Hufflepuff table.
"It was very mature for your age," complimented Hannah, a heartbeat before Susan.
"More like bleak", groused a still smarting Zacharias. No one paid him any mind.
Uncle Vernon was back hours later, and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.
"What on earth is it?" asked Anthony Goldstein. "What could take hours to buy?"
"Could be a broom?" offered Stephen unhelpfully.
Cho muttered worriedly, "Whatever it is, he's keeping it to himself. That's enough to know that it can't be good for Harry."
"Oh merlin…" said Andromeda, as she saw the dawning look of realization in her muggleborn husband's eyes. Few others figured it out, however, and the handful that did hoped desperately that they were wrong.
The worried look in her eyes said she had her suspicions, ones that matched Harry's own fearful ones.
"Tell me it's not what I think it is," said Remus, his voice dark and heavy.
The look on Harry's face spoke volumes, and already many of the adults and guests were going pale in the face. The adults who hadn't figured it out were quietly filled in, but the rest of the hall was left wondering what the fuss was about.
Tonks could tell it wasn't anything good based off her parent's reactions.
"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"
"The perfect place for what?" Hermione asked again, a small amount of fear and a large amount of frustration in her voice.
It was very cold outside the car, almost freezing despite being the summer.
"You said it was 'A tad chilly'?" questioned Hermione and Penelope in sync. The table laughed at the mothering of the two, as Harry groaned.
Beside him, his best friend snickered. "Harry, you're brilliant, though not always the best at lying." Ron patted Harry on the back sympathetically.
Harry shook his head. 'Managed to keep all of this from you lot this long, haven't I?' he thought morosely. Instead, he said, "I suppose I was just trying to keep you from worrying needlessly. It was such a small thing, I didn't even remember that it was cold that night."
Before anyone else could say anything, Andromeda spoke up, having heard their conversation. "You care so much for others, Harry - you've such a kind soul - but don't forget to care for yourself as well. You matter deeply to a lot of people. So if you care for them, you need to care for yourself."
Harry nodded ever so slightly, still coming to terms with everything, but not wanting to be rude to the incredibly kind (and objectively beautiful) mother of Tonks.
Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine.
"Y-you can't be serious!" said McGonagall, her thick scottish accent coming out. "That doesn't sound like a place safe for a grown and seasoned man, let alone a family!"
"I'm more concerned about how they'd get there!" yelled Hooch.
Even Fudge looked worried. "Good heavens, that's a dreadful idea."
The adults began yelling once more at Dumbledore, though they took considerably less time to quiet down as - at this point - few of them could expect any better from the crazed monster that was Vernon Dursley. Even Remus looked more frigidly accepting than furious, though the anger lay there, simmering and un-abating.
"Whatever has possessed that man to go to such lengths? Why does he hate magic so much?" Emmeline's question brought them all up short.
"He's afraid," said Perenelle quietly.
She had been silent since the last time she spoke, not reacting outwardly to any of the horrible revelations and events so far this chapter, though a frown marred her face for the majority of it, aside from the moments where she would laugh at something the ten year old Harry had said or thought.
"They fear us that much?" questioned Sally Anne, though she was shushed by Zacharias immediately.
"Yes," said Dumbledore heavily. "I'm afraid, were they aware of our existence, that many muggles would fear us. And not altogether unrightfully so."
"Because we're better than them," sneered Malfoy proudly. Snape shot his student a warning look.
"Silence Draco!" Narcissa hissed. She surprised most of the hall, including her own wide-eyed son at her sharp rebuke. Though her mask soon returned to its impenetrable defense of neutrality. Andromeda narrowed her eyes at her sister, but said nothing. Padfoot similarly looked at his once-cousin intently.
Harry, in particular, was pleasantly surprised by Narcissa's rebuke, even if he acknowledged he couldn't fathom the gears turning in her head or the reason as to why she'd done so publicly.
Dumbledore blinked in the mildest expression of shock, before continuing on. "No, Mr. Malfoy, though you aren't entirely wrong, either." A few muggleborn students looked shocked at that, but allowed the Headmaster to continue. "People - both magicals and muggles alike - will always fear that which they can not be, that which they can not understand, and that which they cannot best. At any given encounter between ourselves and our magicless counterparts, we are likely to inhabit any and most likely all of these things. It is only natural for them to be afraid when confronted with the wonders - and dangers - of magic. The power of ending a life with a flick of a stick would terrify them regardless of context or use. Just as you would no doubt similarly be terrified to learn that muggles have the technology to wipe out millions of people with a mere push of a button."
Silence reigned in the hall. Many purebloods, unaware of such things as nuclear weapons, were either in denial or fell into outright fear at such a power. Malfoy scoffed at such a thought, but inside, his heart rate quickened. He'd never heard of such a thing, there was simply no way muggles had that type of power… but the stoic and even sorrowful looks on the adults and the muggleborn students told him otherwise. He gulped imperceptibly.
"That's why they hurt Harry," Luna said into the contemplative quiet of the hall. Everyone turned to look at either the blonde ravenclaw or the boy in question. "They hurt him because they're afraid of what he'll become. Of what he can do to them. They hurt him worse as he gets older, because the more they hurt him, the more they fear his retribution. 'If he learns magic…'"
She let the ominous sentence hang in the air, the reality of the situation tangible to even the youngest there.
"They deserve it," said Tonks darkly. She saw the stony mask Harry slipped on and could only marvel at the conflicting emotions ranging in his eyes. 'So deep, so expressive,' she thought. More than anything, she saw the hurt in them. It pained her to see it actively hidden on someone that was so strong, so good. "They deserve every bit of what's coming to them."
Across the hall, people nodded. The likes of Fleur, Emmeline, Mandy, and Katie voiced their agreement. Some of the younger professors, all of the Weasley kids and the Gryffindors - even, most surprisingly, Hermione - all seemed on board with the idea of retribution.
"So therefore… magic maketh might?" Dumbledore asked into the crowd. Their dark mutterings tapered off. "I agree that the Dursley's deserve retribution, and that young Mr. Potter deserves justice, but where would we start, and how? Would we not be propogading the cycle, justifying their fear, if Harry himself were to-"
Perenelle could sense that her husband's student - and, in fact, her own student - was gearing up for a long morality spiel, and decided to spare the students for the moment. "All very important questions, Brian, perhaps saved for a better time and setting." She smiled kindly at the wizened wizard who was still little more than a well meaning boy in her aged eyes.
"You're right, Perenelle. My apologies; just some food for thought." If Dumbledore was wrankled at being addressed so formally and dismissed in front of his staff, guests, and students, he didn't show it in the least. If anything, he looked genuinely bashful and nodded ascentingly for the reading to continue.
Some of the woman in the hall weren't happy that the Headmaster had so much as tried to defend the Dursley's. "I know damn well where I'd start," muttered Tonks.
Fleur nodded. "Indeed."
One thing was certain, there was no television in there.
A few people snorted awkwardly, the tension still present in the room.
"However will Duddykins live?" mocked Su Li.
"Your humor is much drier than your father's, Mr. Po- I mean, Harry. More like your mother, I'm afraid," Emmeline said absently, her own emotions still wound up. Harry smiled at the comparison, even though this only made him more curious about the beautiful witch's relationship to his parents.
"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"
"He's excited about a storm?" questioned Dean. "That affects him too, doesn't it?"
The others simply shook their heads, having given up on Vernon having any sense at this point.
Madame Pomfrey looked ready to snap, she was so livid with the situation.
A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.
"That's reassuring," the twins tried to joke, though no one laughed.
"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"
It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces.
"Breathe, Pomfrey. Breathe," comforted Professor Vector as she attempted to calm down the irate matron. The rest of the adults were far from amused at the ridiculous and downright dangerous situation. Even Snape looked mildly annoyed, which said something.
After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.
"It's a pity he didn't slip and hit his head," growled Ron. No one rebuked his morbid thoughts, not even Hermione who was still upset about the current situation.
The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty.
"Lovely," sneered Nott.
"I think that's the point," scoffed a short tempered Tracey. The reading was making her hate the Dursley's more than she thought she could ever hate someone, though a few people in her house weren't too far behind the list. "Or are you daft as well as physically thick?"
"Watch your tone, halfblood, or-"
"Or what, Nott?" defended Daphne. She was a pureblood of even higher standing than Nott, if one subscribed to such things, which was rather impressive in and of itself. The fact that either girl knew they could take the spoilt, incompetent boy on in a duel only furthered their courage against him. He and his father didn't have nearly the same influence Malfoy Sr. possessed.
"In case you haven't noticed, this reading is going to change some things," Tracey said softly, addressing her peers as much as the bully. "Your kind aren't going to be welcome for long if half of the things Harry claims are true. Not to mention we're surrounded by the entire school, the powerful staff of Hogwarts, and a panel of guests that include the Minister, the Head of the DMLE, veteran aurors, a Headmistress of Beauxbatons, and - oh - the wife of the Nicholas Flamel. So what, pray tell, are you going to do about my bloody tone?" Silence met her question. "Exactly. I'd get used to me speaking my mind if I were you; it's going to happen a lot more throughout this reading."
Nott was dense, but not completely without guile. Similarly, he knew a losing battle when he saw one. He sneered at them a final time. "You'll regret this. You, half-blood, and all your lot. Mark my words."
"I highly doubt it," dismissed Tracey, to the amazement of her friends.
Blaise and Lily looked at her as though she'd grown another head, and Daphne - while thankful that Malfoy didn't join the fray, no doubt still reeling from his mother's public rebuke - nonetheless was worried for her friend pushing too many buttons too soon. They shared a look, but said no more - they knew they would talk about this and other matters later.
There were only two rooms, the living room and the bedroom.
"Which, I'm sure, you shared with your cousin," Seamus needlessly supplied. This time, Ron did glare at the Irish boy, his mere presence setting him off.
Uncle Vernon's 'rations' turned out to be a bag of crisps each, three bananas, and a half dozen gas-station sandwiches. Harry, who was surprised that he'd received a bag of crisps, was less so when he found out the sandwiches were for the Dursleys only. Thankfully, Dudley loathed anything remotely healthy, and tossed his banana aside, which Harry carefully pocketed for later.
"I keep telling myself they can't get any more vile, any more petty," muttered Penelope with a shake of her head.
"And each time, we're proven wrong," Fleur finished with disdain. Her eyes were like chips of ice.
Ginny was also upset, but the comment about Dudley and the banana made her think of Ron, who loathed healthy things like fruit as well. As though sensing what she was thinking, her brother glared at her which made her almost giggle. Almost.
As evening came, Vernon tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up. "Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.
The book was glared at by almost everyone now, people muttering insidious things.
'I'll show you fire, Dursley,' though Sirius. As 'Padfoot', he growled and snarled with each passing moment.
Michael Corner couldn't help but snort at Vernon's humor, and his girlfriend Ginny - along with much of the nearby population - turned their glares onto him. He shrunk in his seat faster than Devil's Snare in sunlight.
He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.
More pitying looks were sent Harry's way.
"Life finds a way," Luna softly reassured. Harry thought the quote was familiar, but simply thanked the strange but wonderful girl. Neville, in the meanwhile, sat increasingly entranced by her.
As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows.
"That shack sounds like it could come down any minute," Molly said fretfully. Only the knowledge that Harry sat safely at the Gryffindor table kept her from hysterics.
Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up without so much as a cover.
"Bastards."
"Pigs."
"Poor Harry."
Harry simply wanted the chapter to end.
The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on.
Many of the adults were growing increasingly distressed. Amelia had taken so many notes by this point, it somewhat amazed her aurors.
Harry couldn't sleep.
"Of course you can't," cried Hermione quietly. "You're miserable and in that horrific situation." She leaned into his shoulder once again, and Harry allowed it.
More than a few witches wished they were sitting in her position.
He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger, his pocketed banana long since consumed.
Tears entered the eyes of the woman at his table while the men looked distinctly uncomfortable. Harry really couldn't catch a break.
Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight, if only just. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time.
"What a birthday," said Ron sadly. Harry offered him a reassuring smile.
Neville felt worse once again. His birthdays were walks in the park compared to Harry's. To think, he'd silently envied his friend for so long. Guilt welled up in him.
He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer wondering where the letter writer was now.
"Aw, Harry," whined a tearing up Alicia. Perhaps it was the magic of the books, but they could all picture a sad, thin, beat up little Harry all alone so vividly. It tore at their heartstrings.
Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.
The hall was torn between laughing or crying, many shooting the current Harry looks of exasperation. Even Hermione popped her head up to bop him playfully on the shoulder at his morbid thinking.
Emmeline chuckled. "Like I said, the humor of your mother."
Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that his Uncle's motor functions would simply shut down at the sight of them, unable to destroy them before Harry got to them.
"There's a thought," said the Twins, writing something down. This actually got a chuckle out of some people.
Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that?
The hall began to grow tense once more.
"It's going to cave in," muttered a worried Dennis Creevey.
And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the waves?
As though giving life to the words, some of Dennis' friends glared at him.
Some of the students, and even Trelawney, covered their eyes fretfully as though it would make the tension disappear. "Oh merlin."
One minute to go and he'd be eleven. The roar of the ocean was deafening. Would he make it?
The tension built.
Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten… nine - maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him
The twins and Lee Jordan looked over to Harry and mouthed in sync, 'Do it!'
He barely withheld a snort, everyone else too tense to notice their antics.
- three... two…
Tonks reached across and grabbed Harry's hand just before Katie could. Hermione already gripped his other one.
one…
"What?" questioned a tightly wound Fleur into the pause that followed.
BOOM.
The hall itself shook.
People jumped out of their seats.
The younger students looked close to tears, some of them even crying.
The staff and guests were wide-eyed as Ted -with assistance from the magic of the book- bellowed out a thunderous 'BOOM' that set even Dumbledore's half-moon glasses briefly askew.
"What's happening?" asked a fearful Sinestra.
Ted hurried on in the reading to reassure the panicked crowd.
The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door.
"Oh no. What is it?!" asked a worried Leanne.
Someone was outside, knocking to come in.
