JK Rowling Owns Harry Potter
FASA Owns Earthdawn
Harry's fifth year will begin the major split from canon. Many of the events that happened in canon will still occur, but not necessarily in a way that Harry knows about or is affected by.
Welcome to Harry's fifth year.
This chapter begins a new page in Harry's life. Voldemort's resurrection in the cemetery consumed the Horcrux in Harry's scar. But when he ripped it out to rejuvenate himself, he shredded Harry's own magical core. Harry's magic is damaged to a point that he can't use it. For a visual, think of an immense legal document. Now run it through an industrial shredder. Then, for good measure, run the pieces through again sideways. You might be able to piece together a few strands, but you're not going to be able to really understand the document.
With his magical pattern so shredded, Harry cannot enter his dreamscape or even fly a broom reliably. He has very little will to go on. Fortunately, the Dursleys have taken him in and without the Horcrux, they seem to want to make amends.
Parseltongue is designated with the § symbol and italic script. For example: §"Parseltongue"§
Chapter 20 - Living La Vida Muggle
—Dance of Death—
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey, England
The Dursley Home
The morning after he left Hogwarts
Harry slowly opened his eyes. He was back in his room at the Dursley's. The bed was firm, the pillow was plush, and the blankets were warm. What had woken him up? Then he heard the harsh sounds of Dudley snoring. Sitting up, Harry saw his cousin, lounging in a chair in the corner of his room. Why was he there? Weird.
Harry notes that it was very early in the morning and still dark. He suddenly realized he could see just fine. Apparently, he could still shift into his 'owl vision'. That was a plus. Getting up, he pulled a blanket over Dudley and gently forced his pillow under the large boy's head. He'd ask him why he came into his room later. Harry crept down stairs for a little private time. It was a cool morning, so he grabbed his robe and slippers. On his way out, he picked up the letters that had been given to him.
After finding out that he had lost his magic, Harry had been too depressed to read the letters from his friends. There were so many of them. He had even had one arrive the night he returned home. It was from Susan Bones of all people. He'd deal with that one later. Settling into a chair, Harry flipped on a light, adjusted his glasses, and began reading.
The first one was from Hermione. It was tremendous. For some reason, Harry felt like he should be highlighting certain passages and taking notes. It was not an 'easy read'. As Harry finished the ninth page, he realized there was a cup of Earl Grey with a lemon wedge steaming away on the table beside him.
Smiling, Harry said, "Pipsey!" then "Dobby!"
His two friend appeared in front of him. Harry got down on his knees and pulled them into a big hug. Somehow, seeing these two loyal friends, meant the world to Harry.
"I'm so glad to see you two! I thought you wouldn't be allowed to see me now that I'm just a muggle."
The two elves looked at each other, then back at Harry. Pipsey spoke first, "You's not a muggle. You's still have lots a magic." Dobby nodded beside her.
Harry ran his hand through his hair and responded, "Well, I was told my magic was shredded. That I couldn't use it…"
Dobby sadly said, "Yes, Master Harry's magic has been damaged. But it's still there. And we's still tied to you." At that he perked up with a huge but silly grin.
This made sense. Harry was able to still 'feel' magic. If anything, he could feel magic better than before. At first, it had caused him to have painful headaches and he had to avoid it. Eventually, the pain subsided, but not the sensitivity. He also still had his owl vision. The magic was there, it was just in tatters. Like having a third arm that couldn't be controlled.
With a smile to his friends, he settled into the chair and went back to Hermione's letter. Ten minutes later, he was done. She was a dear friend who was deeply worried about him. Apparently, word had gotten out that his magic was destroyed and he wouldn't return to Hogwarts, but she still wanted to see him and keep in touch. She included something amazing in that letter. Her telephone number. No owls needed…
Next was Ginny's letter. It was only seven pages, thank goodness. She wrote about how Gryffindor house had requested he be re-instated, but reversing the 'declaration of eiectio' was not easily done. So, he was made an 'honorary' Gryffindor. Harry scowled at that idea. He'd like to tell them where they could stick their 'reversal'. But Ginny seemed happy, so why spoil it.
She talked about how she didn't care about his magic, that she just wanted him to be safe and happy. She told him she would keep and wear the blazer button and tie pin he had given her. She also wanted to see him over the summer. Dumbledore had warned them that the Burrow was too magical and may be painful for him, but she hoped they could entertain him in the back yard for his birthday if he wasn't up to the house. She ended the note with a promise to write more.
Ginny's note made him happy. He had just assumed she would move on now that he was… less than before. He had other letters from Neville, Colin, Luna, and even Ron. Neville told him not to give up, that he believed Harry could heal and return. Luna didn't even mention his injuries, she just congratulated him on his victory and thanked him for being nice to her. She gave him a lifetime subscription to the Quibbler as a part of the prize package for winning the tournament. Harry didn't remember that being mentioned, but he enjoyed the Quibbler, so… great.
Then he got to Ron's letter. Apparently, Ron wanted to apologize and express his sympathy for Harry losing his magic. Guilt, guilt, more guilt, blah, blah, blah… In the end, Harry just balled it up and tossed it in the bin.
The next few letters were the same as Ron's, but from other people. Some he knew, others he didn't even remember having conflict with. They all were 'so very sorry'. The bin was rapidly filling up with crumpled letters. He had no intention of forgiving anyone. Except the Dursley's.
A letter from Katie was nice. She was sending him a weekly shepherd's pie for the summer. Apparently, she found out that he had been purchasing them from the restaurant. It was a nice letter. Yes, it had the standard embarrassing apologies and well wishes, but she had stood up for him when it mattered. He decided to keep it and write back.
He briefly looked at Susan's letter and decided to just send it back. Unopened. Hopefully she would get the message. Why put himself through more angst.
As Harry finished collecting the 'keeper' letters and tossing the 'discards', he heard the Dursley's moving about upstairs and decided to make breakfast. In the past he was forced to, now he actually wanted to. He would introduce them to Pipsey and Dobby at some point, but not today. But, until his Aunt and Uncle came down stairs, he could use their help in preparing a big breakfast.
—Dance of Death—
Breakfast table
The Dursley's came down to a massive feast. At first they seemed embarrassed, but as it became apparent Harry wanted to cook, everyone relaxed. At first, the mood was kind of quiet, then uncle Vernon broke the silence.
"We got a copy of that wizard newspaper before we picked you up. The Quibbler, I think it's called."
Harry groaned. Here we go, he braced himself for his uncles pending explosion… but it didn't come. He noticed Uncle Vernon seemed to be chuckling. All the Dursleys were.
Dudley started laughing loudly, "I want a subscription, Harry! That's some funny stuff!"
The next twenty minutes were spent discussing the Rotfang conspiracy of all things. Aunt Petunia went and brought the copy to the table. She never allowed newspapers at the table, but for this, she made an exception. Once the shock wore off, Harry admitted to being friends with Luna Lovegood, daughter of the editor. He promised to expand the subscription to bring in two extra copies.
Harry sipped his tea and wondered, did the Lovegoods have back issues as well? And why hadn't Uncle Vernon gone into orbit at the thought of 'magic' in his home? The man was actually kind of charming. Was this how he was at work? He was a vice president of sales at Gunnings, that implied he could turn on the charm. Still, it seemed odd to have him actually relax and laugh. It was so surprising how much different the Dursleys were, now that the scar had been drained and no longer projected its 'poison'. What had it been like for them, living with that malice for so many years?
After breakfast, Harry cleared the table and went out to 'his' garden to tend the roses. The morning air, the smell of soil and roses. His worries slowly eased away as he tilled and pruned and pulled weeds. One group of the weeds were actually mint and he decided to replant them elsewhere. If only he could spend the entire day in the garden, just merrily toiling away.
Harry closed his eyes and extended his perceptions, trying to connect with the flowers. He definitely felt something. It was familiar, like a sense of déjà vu or a barely remembered song. He hadn't expected the level of connection he had before his injuries, but he had hoped for more. Roses were one of the few plants Harry felt a personal connection with. Their innate beauty attracts while their thorns repel. Such a complex plant. Was he the same way? Always attracting attention, then repelling those who respond? Was that healthy?
After about an hour, Aunt Petunia soon joined him. She handed him a straw hat to keep from burning. It had a large brim and was quite effective at keeping the sun off his neck and ears. Soon, the two fell into a nice rhythm and worked quietly together. Watching his aunt, he came to admire the way she worked. In the years he had been away, she had obviously learned quite a bit about gardening. Given how well 'his' roses looked, she had really been dedicated. They just needed a tiny bit of pruning and weeding in the flower beds. Dudley came out and mowed the lawn while they worked. Uncle Vernon was likely sleeping in his chair.
After they were done, Harry was filthy, but happy. His aunt was still relatively clean, leaving Harry to the dirty work he so enjoyed. Still, the woman knew her plants. He went up to shower and Aunt Petunia made a mid-morning snack. Soon they were all relaxing in the family room. Aunt Petunia made lemonade and biscuits. It all seemed like a normal Saturday morning.
—Dance of Death—
The next week
Over the course of the next week, Harry learned that he talks in his sleep and Dudley had occasionally come in to watch over him. He apparently cried out in pain quite often. All the Dursleys were upset by it, but they didn't talk openly about it. He knew the nightmare – he was back in the cemetery.
Bill had stopped by a few times and the Dursleys seemed to like him. He always brought word on Sirius and the wizarding world. Apparently, Sirius was being granted a trial in one month. The lawsuits had brutalized the pureblood families financially and Fudge was eager to make amends. The minister had a hand in Sirius' failure to receive a trial and he was personally being targeted in numerous lawsuits.
Sirius had apparently held off on going after Dumbledore through legal means. He didn't want to distract the man from resisting Voldemort. When Harry became upset over that, Bill reminded him that the reason for going after Dumbledore was to distract him. The man had more than enough distractions now to suffice. The ministry was trying to make him out to be crazy as a loon.
Bill also explained how Harry returning from the cemetery with Peter Pettigrew had huge ramifications. The man had sung like a canary under veritaserum and Sirius' innocence was no longer in question. Almost as good was that he implicated other pureblood families and cast doubt on their innocence. Amelia Bones had made it her personal mission to wring every bit of truth out of the man she could. While she couldn't re-try the deatheaters that had bribed their way out of punishment, she seemed determined to publicly declare them as guilty. This would impact their ability to quietly garner support for Voldemort. Harry recalled that the Bones family had a major axe to grind with the deatheaters. It had been a long time since he and Susan talked, but she had been orphaned just like him and once admitted that seeing so many deatheaters walk free had deeply offended her.
Fudge had fabricated a tale where Peter Pettigrew had been insane and had tried to destroy the house of Potter through some 'ill thought out plan'. The whole cemetery ritual was just a way to torture the 'boy who lived' and fulfill his own fantasies of power and control. Harry was tricked and confounded by the 'mass murderer' into believing you-know-who had returned.
Fudge had made a public statement that said Pettigrew had been the only one behind the kidnapping and attack on Harry. To give his account credibility, he added that Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters and framed his friend. He had tricked the entire wizarding world into believing he was dead and Sirius had taken the fall. Tricking a fourteen year old boy was child's play to such a 'master manipulator'.
Once it was out, there was no taking that back. He was so desperate to make Harry's kidnapping and injuries seem like the work of Peter Pettigrew, that he had gone on record as saying Pettigrew betrayed the Potters. Now Fudge couldn't say Sirius was a part of the betrayal that killed Harry's parents without retracting his statement. Bill seemed to think it was planned. A way to get Sirius off his back. Fudge was way too cunning to make a statement like that so casually. Harry realized yet again how much he hated politics.
The Order of the Phoenix had reformed and Bill had joined up. As had his parents, Remus Lupin, and others. They were working diligently to counter the deatheater threat before it gained ground. When asked about his independence from Dumbledore, Bill just said to be patient. Once Sirius was found innocent, there would be no need for extreme actions. Patience was not something Harry was good at. Harry sensed that Bill wasn't telling him everything, but he decided not to push.
Harry called Hermione every day, it was good to hear his friend's voice. The Grangers were going to France for three weeks before school started back up, but she made plans to meet up with Harry before they went on holiday. Uncle Vernon invited her father to play golf. Apparently, Dan loved to play and Hermione had been taught to play as well. They would be a foursome. Harry had new golf clubs that begged to be taken out. Plans were made.
Harry had managed to reply to all the letters he had not destroyed. He was scheduled to go to the Burrow the Saturday after his birthday, August 5. He wasn't sure what he would say to Ron or the twins, but he really wanted to see Ginny. He wrote her every day, but it wasn't the same as seeing her. Their time apart had only made his feelings for her more intense.
Harry had spent more time in the garden with his aunt, and she opened up about his mum. How they used to get in all kinds of trouble. Their parents were artists and they lived off the beaten path, but that just let them go exploring. Their father, was also called 'Harry', and he was a writer. Their mother was a painter. Petunia even had a few of her paintings in the house. The Evans home was a loving household full of laughter and happiness.
Lily was the dreamer of the two. Always looking at clouds and picking flowers. Petunia admitted to being the more serious sister. She seemed a bit sad about that in the re-telling. They used to visit a local restaurant called 'Berts' and have milkshakes. Petunia described a wonderful picture of their life before Lily went to Hogwarts. Harry knew she was romanticizing it a bit, but it made her happy. He also realized she never went beyond Lily's tenth birthday. That was when they had their falling out.
Working in the garden, Harry was able to slowly re-connect with the roses. It was not as powerful as before his injury, but he could tell what they were 'feeling'. He knew which ones were getting too much water or too little. Which were the healthiest and which needed aerated soil and fertilizer. He could sense their roots and where they intertwined. He supposed he could reform the connections because he had used his own blood in helping them grow. He knew this level of plant empathy was a shadow of what he had once possessed, but it gave him encouragement.
Luna had sent over a large box of 'out of print' Quibblers. The Dursleys just couldn't get enough. Harry had paid the full price for all and looked forward to future issues. The Quibbler may be a bit fanciful and less grounded in reality, but he greatly preferred it to the Daily Prophet. He did have to warn the Dursleys not to share the magazine outside of the home. It was still part of the wizarding world and had to be kept on the 'down-low'.
Harry developed a fascination with oak trees. Even he knew it was far from a normal attraction, but he just loved them. Like roses, he researched everything about them. He had visited every oak tree in the area and evaluated them all. Oddly, he always felt like they were lacking in some obscure way. Still, he convinced Petunia to plant a sapling behind the house, and he cared for it obsessively.
He had even started trying to build up the motorcycle his uncle had given him, but he was hopelessly lost. Writing to Sirius, he shared his frustrations in building the motorcycle and Sirius offered to help him when his name was cleared. Apparently, he had re-built a corsair years ago. Harry shared this with Dudley and they both were relieved. It was a nice gesture, but Uncle Vernon didn't know a thing about motorcycle repair or maintenance. Much less re-building one. Harry and Dudley decided it could wait.
The golf outing with the Grangers was quickly approaching and Harry was beyond excited to see his friend. But the closer the date came, the more he thought about the outside world. The fact that Voldemort was out there, looking for him. And he had no magic. He knew he had to do something to prepare himself. Over dinner, he decided it was time to start.
Harry looked at his Uncle and asked, "Uncle Vernon, would it be ok if I take some self-defense classes? I need to be able to defend myself." He had been thinking about how vulnerable he was without magic. Given that Voldemort was back he thought he should at least know how to fight.
Uncle Vernon gave him an odd look. "Why do you need to defend yourself, Harry?" he then got a dark look and gazed at his son. "Are Piers and the boys giving you a hard time?" A tense silence hung in the air.
Harry shook his head, "No, sir. That's not it…"
Dudley realized everyone was looking at him and snapped out of whatever he had been thinking about. "What? What's not it?" Seeing Harry shaking his head and his dad staring at him he added, "Sorry dad, I wasn't paying attention."
Uncle Vernon rolled his eyes, "Keep your head out of the clouds, son… One more time, are Piers and the boys giving Harry a hard time?"
Dudley smiled and cracked his first two knuckles. "Nope." Harry realized that Crabbe and Goyle were not the biggest fourteen year olds he knew.
Dudley had really gotten big and seemed kind of intimidating. Now that Harry thought about it, Piers hadn't been around much. Maybe Dudley had out grown him. And his bullying ways. Good for him.
Harry spoke, "I was thinking about taking Karate. In case any… bullies from school find me. I want to be ready." He used the word 'bullies' so no one would freak out. Saying 'mass murderers' or 'children of mass murderers' just didn't seem right for dinner conversation.
Uncle Vernon scrunched up his face. "Karate? Grown men running around in pajamas, screaming and kicking at each other? Absolutely not! We'll teach you how to fight like a man, Harry… Dudley, take Harry to the gym with you next week. Lou will toughen you up!"
Dudley seemed to perk up, "Yeah, Harry. Men don't fight in Pajamas. They don't kick each other, either. Not real men anyway." He paused for a moment and scoffed, "that's just one step away from kickin' a bloke in the bits! Oh, hell no."
Petunia jumped at that, "I'll have none of that language at the table!"
Harry didn't mention that boxers fight in 'boxer shorts', not much better than pajamas. Well, if he couldn't take karate or kung-fu, he'd settle for boxing. It had done wonders for Dudley, that's for sure.
Dudley went on to talk about his boxing and how he hoped to place in the national competitions next year. He talked about the different trainers at school and how Lou really was the best he had trained under. Harry could tell he was selling it for his sake. It might be fun.
He became aware that his uncle was still looking at him.
"Harry, tell me about these 'bullies' at school." There was an intensity in Uncle Vernon's face. Like he was trying to seem casual, but was broiling under the surface.
What had he put in the letters…? So many had been written in haste and just as a way to vent and deal with the way he was being treated. Finally, he decided to just come clean. It took over two hours, but he hit the high points. By the time he was done, Dudley was out of his chair pacing around with his hands in fists. Uncle Vernon was purple and Aunt Petunia was telling him to take his blood pressure medicine. She was visibly upset.
Dudley muttered something about getting his hands on 'that fancy boy'. Harry knew 'fancy boy' was Draco. Dudley seemed to hate Draco beyond comprehension.
Vernon shook his head in disbelief. "Casting spells at you in the halls? Putting you in the hospital? Making vile threats to young girls… Where were the teachers? Why aren't the police involved?"
Harry tried to nip it in the bud, "Well, I think they were all under the same curse you guys were under. They just went a lot further."
Aunt Petunia tuned him out, "The same kind of bullies used to torment my sister. They called her a 'mudblood' just because our parents were normal. I used to console her while she cried. That Severus Snape boy was the worst." She seemed to stare off for a moment, "Lily could never see it, but I could. I saw the way he acted when she wasn't around. The only good thing that came from his using that word was that she saw him for who he really is. A vile and disgusting human being."
Harry realized she knew a lot about his mum. Thinking about the years they spent together and the confidences they must have shared… This wasn't the place, but he resolved to talk about it with her over gardening.
Back to the point, "Snape is a professor now. He never defends anyone or prevents any bullying behavior. My friend, Hermione, the one with the dentist parents, was cursed to have her teeth grow down to her waist. He made fun of her and refused to punish the one who did it."
Dudley practically exploded, "It was that fancy boy! Right? Right, Harry? It had to have been Malfoy!" Seeing Harry nod, Dudley just stormed off. Harry was… intimidated. Dudley seemed a lot bigger when he was angry. What on earth had he put in his letters that riled the large boy up like that?
—Dance of Death—
Surrey Golf Club
July 29, 1995
Harry and Vernon arrived early at the golf club. Vernon had a new set of Titleist DCI irons and Harry had his 'never been played' Ping Eye2+ BeCu irons. They had a copper color to them and Uncle Vernon had said it was a softer metal and would let him 'shape his shots' better. Harry had no idea what the man was talking about. Still, he thought they looked cool.
They went into the club and got Harry a set of shoes. Coming out, they saw the Grangers. Harry waved to Hermione and the two teens rushed forward to see each other. Hermione pulled Harry into a hug. Dan Granger and Vernon quickly joined the teens.
Introductions were made and they all agreed to go to the Driving range to warm up. Dan and Vernon were chatting it up over the different political parties and seemed to be having fun. Harry noted that Dan had an impressive drive. Vernon wasn't bad either.
Hermione was staring at Harry's forehead. "Harry, your scar is so much lighter than before. Honestly, I can barely see it."
Harry smiled at her. "Yeah, it faded after… well, after the cemetery." He had written her about that and shared most of the details. He really didn't want to talk about it, but he wanted his friends to know what had happened.
After a moment, she changed the subject. "So, golf. I didn't know you played, Harry. I've had lessons for a few years, but I'm really not that good."
"I've never played before, but it seems simple enough. Hit the ball and get it in the hole, right?"
Hermione just smirked and pulled out her 7 iron. She hit five balls. Three were hit well and went soaring. They all seemed to move a bit from the left to the right. She referred to that as a fade or, of extreme, a slice. Two balls were hit 'fat' and resulted in a lot of grass flying in the air and the ball only going a short distance.
Harry knew he'd do well at this. His hand to eye coordination was very good. He set the ball on the grass. Lined up his club the way Hermione had. Pulled the club back and swung with all his might. As he gazed forward, he couldn't seem to find the ball in the air. He knew he had swung hard, but…
Then he looked down. It was still in the grass. Waiting to be struck. Looking over at Hermione he saw her trying to hold back her laughter. Unsuccessfully trying. Soon he started laughing too.
She gave him a few tips. Primarily, keep your head down and don't look up until after you swing. Also, keep your back straight and don't bend your left arm. The last tip seemed ridiculous, but he tried it.
He missed again.
And again.
He connected after that, but the ball just rolled along the grass.
His next shot threw dirt in the air, but not the ball. He was beginning to get pissed.
Hermione went into school mode, "You looked up and you swung way too hard. Just slow down, Harry. If you try to kill the ball, it'll never work. Try to swing at half speed. Take a practice swing."
Harry slowed down to about what he thought was half speed and really focused on keeping his head down. He made a very slow practice swing, then repeated it over the ball. He made contact and the ball flew off the club. It felt so good and pure. He ball flew high and curved slightly to the right.
"Nice fade, Harry." That had come from his uncle. Apparently, he had been watching.
"Thanks, Uncle Vernon!"
Uncle Vernon looked a little sheepish and said, "Ehhh, you know, maybe you should be playing the 'willows 9' course. It's geared up for beginners. Dan and I can play the main course."
Harry knew what that meant. He sucked.
Still, he had one good hit. When he hit the ball, it just felt so amazing. He might like golf…
—Dance of Death—
Due to a cancellation, Harry and Hermione were allowed to play just the two of them, without being forced into a foursome. Given Harry's inexperience, they decided to play 'best ball'. Nine times out of ten, they played from Hermione's ball. Harry spent more time in the thin woods between the holes, looking for his ball, than he did on the fairway.
Every time, he would make a point of seeing if there were any oak trees. Whenever he found one, he made a point of really checking it out. Hermione often had to come and get him, he was so focused on the trees. They ended up letting four different groups play through. Hermione was trying to be polite, but it was obvious she was getting impatient.
As they came up to the seventh hole, Hermione made a point to Harry, "You know, Harry. It's OK to be an inexperienced golfer, but it's kind of bad form to be a slow golfer. If your ball goes in the woods and you can't find it, just walk away. It's only a ball."
"I know Hermione, but if I see an oak tree, I just feel like I should check it out." Hearing how that sounded, Harry winced and shook his head. "Alright, I'll speed up."
Harry actually had a good drive and landed two thirds of the way to the green. Hermione's shot didn't go quite as far, but it was in a better position, so they played from her ball. Harry pitched too hard and his ball flew way over the green. Hermione, on the other hand, managed to hit the green in regulation.
Hermione 'two putted' for par and was thrilled. She was usually two over per hole and every par was a victory for her. Harry came up and his first put stopped about a foot short. Hermione offered to just give it to him. Harry refused.
"Really, Harry. Please just take the 'gimme'."
"I've got this, Hermione. Honestly, if I miss a shot this easy, I have no business out here." He carefully lined up his putter and made a practice putt, just like Hermione had shown him. Stepping forward he placed his putter behind the ball and performed the exact same putting stroke.
The ball went straight toward the hole, but was slightly off center and moving a little too fast. The ball caught the rim and seemed to spin half way around the hole and shoot off three feet to the right.
"Shite! Shite, shite, shite! Double Shite!" Holding his putter, Harry had a sudden urge to throw it.
Hermione just walked back to the cart. Harry took three more tries to get the damn ball in the hole. He five putted. Fuming he returned to the cart.
Hermione was red faced. "Harry, I'm not going to continue this game unless you calm down. That was awful!"
Harry just sat and glowered. Eventually, Hermione decided to just call it and drove back to the clubhouse. Harry didn't say a word the whole way. He was done and he hated the damn game.
Sitting in the club house, Hermione was just sadly drinking her lemonade. Harry slowly calmed down. Hermione and her dad had driven all this way just to see him, and he acted like a child. They could have laughed and joked around the whole time, instead, he just got wound up.
"You know what, Hermione? I think we need to petition Dumbledore to make golf a form of detention."
Hermione didn't look up, but her lips twitched a bit in the corners. Harry had seen that before. He knew the drill.
"I don't know who created this game, but I suspect the Marquis de Sade was involved." Harry noted that Hermione was trying not to smile. But it was coming through. "Really, it's the most amazing way to ruin a nice morning. Let's hit this tiny ball and put it in the hole. Yeah… Should be easy. Easy as pie."
She finally looked at him again. "You really were terrible, Harry."
"Nah, it's the putter, Mione. I just need a better putter." They were both laughing now. Uncle Vernon had an account and Harry ordered chips and burgers. They spent the next hour just joking around. Harry took a few pot shots at himself. He also made sure to compliment Hermione on her game. She may not be able to drive the ball very far, but she was dangerous on the green.
Eventually, Dan and Vernon returned. Vernon looked angry and Dan looked uncomfortable. Apparently, Uncle Vernon had a meltdown on the twelfth hole and snapped his driver. Vernon took the pieces to the pro shop to have it re-shafted. Obviously it was defective.
Once Uncle Vernon left, Harry laughed hard when he heard the story. Dan apparently wasn't used to volatile personalities on the golf course. No doubt he wouldn't be doing this again. Harry confessed to struggling himself, but in the end they had fun. Hermione was less enthusiastic about it.
Eventually, Vernon came back and ordered and Arnold Palmer. Dan had the same. Uncle Vernon was back in his 'charming salesman' mode and they all eventually laughed and joked about the crazy course. Harry was actually a bit enamored with the way Vernon handled the whole affair. He was like an angry version of Bill in the way he could win over a crowd. He'd never seen that before. At least, not in public.
Eventually, Vernon went to pick up his driver and Dan took Harry out and showed him how to swing. Harry realized that, with practice, this really could be fun. Soon, he was hitting the ball consistently well. It was a good stress reliever when you actually connect. He had no desire to ever play again, but he thought going to the range would be a fun way to kill time. Maybe he could just toss his putter in the bin…
—Dance of Death—
The following Monday was Harry's birthday. They went out for Chinese and Harry received a number of gifts. Mostly it was clothes and golf supplies. Harry didn't mention that he never wanted to play again, he just liked the driving range. Well, now he had tees, balls, and loads of golf shirts. Dudley gave him a set of boxing gloves and shorts. He was excited about taking Harry to see Lou the next day. Petunia gave him a tennis racket. That was unexpected.
Dudley laughed. "Harry, you are in trouble now! Mom's gonna get you to play tennis in her garden club league." He was laughing and shaking his head.
Petunia seemed irritated by Dudley's comment, "Tennis is an excellent way for Harry to stay active. I've arranged for a few lessons with Sergio, the tennis pro. Harry, if you like it, we can join the league."
"Thanks, Aunt Petunia. Honestly, if I can't play quidditch, this might be a good sport. Golf is fun too, but not really good exercise."
Dudley's eyebrows scrunched up, "What's Quidditch?"
Harry spent the next thirty minutes explaining the wonderful sport of quidditch. The different positions, how you score, which brooms work best, and why you need 'beaters' on a team to avoid the bludgers. When he was done, everyone was quiet for a minute.
Dudley had a sad look on his face. "I don't know, Harry. If you like team sports, give me football or rugby any day."
Uncle Vernon agreed, "Flying around on brooms? Are you kidding me? What kind of man puts a broomstick between his legs?"
Dudley scoffed, "Really, Harry, how is that not painful?"
Uncle Vernon laughed at Dudley's comment, adding, "Golf's good for business, but I suppose it's not a team sport. We do have a cricket league at work."
This topic went from tennis to every other sport the Dursleys could think of being superior to quidditch. Harry started to get irritated, but when he thought about it, it kind of made sense. Until you actually ride a broom, there's no way to explain the exhilaration of the speed. How could he possibly describe the thrill of catching the snitch?
Aunt Petunia brought out the cake with fifteen candles.
—Dance of Death—
That night, Harry slept. Slowly, he found himself walking along a path that was full of miss matched paving stones which seemed to exist over an ocean of turbulent waves. There was nothing holding it up, it just floated precariously. In some places, the path had holes and he had to jump over an empty space to stay on the path.
He didn't know why he kept on, but he did. In his dreaming mind, this was better than the cemetery, so it was worth continuing. He walked for what seemed like ages, frequently leaping over missing areas. Eventually, he saw a house in the distance, atop a mountain on a tiny island. As he grew closer, he realized it was his dream house. Anxiously, he doubled his pace.
Eventually, he grew close enough to see that it had missing pieces. It was a shambles, actually. But, he could just make out a red headed figure who seemed to be making repairs. Harry was now sprinting toward the house. Images of his mother propelling him forward. Then, the pathway ended. He was easily a hundred feet away and nothing but a massive drop to a turbulent ocean below.
Harry took a deep breath and yelled out, "MUM! Mum, can you hear me?"
The figure looked back at him. The noise from the waves below was so loud. She waved to him. Holding out her wand she wrote in huge letters, "Occlumency".
Harry backed up a good thirty feet. This was a dream and he was the dreamer. All things are possible in your dreams. He took of, running at top speed. Faster than he had ever run before. At the last point on the path, he leapt toward the far side. To where his mum was. To his house and his magic and his knowledge.
He didn't even make it twenty feet before he fell through the air to the crashing waves below.
When he awoke, all the Dursleys were looking down at him. Hedwig was watching as well. All concerned.
Maybe it was time for him to start practicing his occlumency again. Each night, like he used to. He hadn't done it since the cemetery.
—Dance of Death—
The next day, no one said a word about Harry's nightmare. Harry prepared a breakfast for Uncle Vernon and the man seemed to be concerned for him.
"Harry, we're worried about you. These nightmares… Maybe you should see someone. Just a person to help you get things in order. This whole secret society thing complicate things, but surely there's someone used to talking about stressful times among… magic people."
Harry suddenly felt mortified. "Well, I'll ask around." He remembered Ginny. How he had told her it was brave to get help and he thought she was amazing for it. Or something like that. Maybe he could see the same person. Waking up to find Dudley was getting embarrassing.
Vernon perked up and had a piece of bacon. "Good man. Nothing wrong with getting a little help." God, was this the same man who used to threaten Harry if he made a peep at night? He actually liked his aunt and uncle. Harry just nodded and smiled.
Soon Dudley would be up and they'd go to Dudley's gym for training.
—Dance of Death—
Surrey Boxing Club
Dudley took Harry to meet his boxing coach Lou. The man was tall and lanky. He was at least fifty years old but his face looked older. This was the face of a man who had been punched a lot. His hair was a mixture of red and grey. His nose was small and he had a definite under bite, making his jaw jut forward.
After being introduced to Harry, he had him dress out to evaluate what he had to start with.
With a voice that was impossibly clean for such a rough looking face, definitely not a smoker. He sent them to get dressed and put on the gloves, adding, "Big-D, put him through da paces. Don't fret Harrison, we'll toughen ya up." Harry didn't bother correcting him. Harrison wasn't a bad name. Odd accent, was it American?
In the locker room, both he and Dudley put on their shorts and a t-shirt.
Dudley looked straight at him. "Look, Harry. Part of boxing is hitting the other guy, but most important is not getting hit. You catch my drift? We'll box each other, but only at about half power. Just don't get hit. I know how fast you are…"
Once in the ring, Harry learned how fast Dudley had gotten. Harry dodged most of the blows, but not all. If this was half power, he absolutely did not want to find out wat full power was. Half way through the practice, Harry's owl perception kicked in, but it was sporadic. It would come and go. One minute, Dudley was moving in slow motion, the next he was full speed. Harry learned to adjust, but he'd prefer it to just stay fixed at normal perception than to jump around. He had his bell rung a couple of times from it.
At the end of their test match, Lou walked over and nodded in appreciation.
"Not bad, Harrison. Big-D is one o' my fastest Heavyweights. Ya managed ta dodge most a his jabs and all a the uppa cuts. Course, I saw him hold back a couple a times. How much you weigh?"
Harry thought about it a minute. "One hundred and fifteen pounds." Harry was small and he knew it. Adding five to ten pounds was no big deal.
Lou pursed his lips for a moment, "I don't know what dat means. Let's say you're between 45 and 50 kilos. That puts ya on the light side a flyweight. We'll focus on speed and footwork. You ain't gonna have the power of a heavyweight, but ya can toughen up. Speed… endurance. Ya got balance, that's for sure."
Over the course of the week, Lou put together an intense training routine. It was all based around speed, rhythm and balance. Four days a week, Harry and Dudley came to the gym and worked out for two hours straight. Harry was put on a high protein diet with plenty of carbs. Lou wanted him to add bulk without any fat.
It reminded Harry of dueling practice with professor Flitwick, only he would occasionally get clobbered. Dudley laid him out once and everyone came over to check on him. Lou was afraid he might have whiplash, so he had him slow down and take the rest of the day easy. Unfortunately, everyone started calling him 'Whiplash' and making whipping gestures whenever he did something right. Well, 'Whiplash' is better than Harrison…
When he wasn't boxing or working in his home or garden, he was at the driving range. He was taking group lessons and had steadily improved his driver and iron performance. As long as he didn't have to putt again, he'd be happy.
That week, Harry had been extremely sore from the intense workouts. But he made time for practicing his occlumency again. He used an hour every morning an every night. It wasn't just his magic that was jumbled up, his thoughts were too. He was intent on pulling his mind together, even if his magic was a hopeless mess. He didn't find his way back to the patchwork path, but at least the nightmares stopped. His dreams were focused on boxing and Ginny.
Next week, he'd start tennis, but this week was boxing. Hopefully everyone wouldn't outweigh him. Harry was always the smallest kid on the team. He was fast and agile enough, but never very large. He always looked about a year younger than the kids in his classes. Dudley was double his weight for crying out loud! Still, he wanted to learn to defend himself, so he'd just walk right in and stand up straight.
Saturday morning, Harry woke up eager. He was finally going over to see Ginny! He wondered if there were any oak trees at the Burrow.
—Dance of Death—
Notes
Good place to stop. Harry is learning to live without magic, but it's still there. He is actually more sensitive to it now than before, he just can't use or influence it himself. A little bit of connection with the roses he used blood magic on to grow, and his owl vision and perception seems to be there to a degree. Beyond that, not really.
The Dursleys have really welcomed him in and after their apologies last summer, Harry is actually growing fond of them. I am trying to make Vernon a fun guy. This is based on the fact that no one who is a total buffoon can succeed in any job. I imagine the horcrux made him a bear at home, but at work he was pretty normal. He's trying to make things right with the child he had treated so poorly. Oh, he still hasn't told them about Dobby or Pipsey.
The golf outing is similar to my own first attempt. I still remember missing the ball and having my dad point it out to me. No comment on the five putting. Let's just say, it happens. Hermione's reaction is also pretty normal. No one likes to play with a slow golfer. Or one who throws a temper tantrum. Harry's not as amazing at golf as he is at quidditch.
The oak tree infatuation is important to the story and it will factor in tremendously. Soon.
Next up, The Weasley's throw him a party and invite people he doesn't want to see.
