My Little Snitch
On Tuesday morning, Harry decided that he had had quite enough of listening to the Dursley's snide comments and irritating commands. "Dammit boy, get the paper." "Boy, shut that bloody owl up." When had "boy" become his nickname? It's not very creative, but neither is "you", as he was often called. As his life was an unremitting cycle of endless stress, he composed himself and calming left the kitchen, leaving the eggs he had been preparing to burn. He decided that there was no need for this, and he would not spend one more day of his life being controlled by this fat man and his dreadful family. His uncle caught him at the door, quite painfully by the arm.
"Boy, where do you think you're off to?" Harry tugged his arm away.
"Out"
"Where out?"
"Why are you concerned?"
His uncle considered this for a moment, but the look of contemplation on the pudgy face soon turned to one of outrage.
"Concerned? I could care less about what you do, but if one of those freak friends of yours comes around, they'll want to know where you are. And I don't want them thinking I had anything to do with your leaving!"
Harry was aware of this. The Dursley's were very cautious after the order's warning at King's Cross station. Cautious, but none the less ignorant toward him.
"Oh, don't worry about them. They are always watching the house. In fact, I think Tonks is outside now. See that young girl there?" He pointed to a young girl playing hopscotch on the sidewalk across the street.
"Tonks is it? I'm supposed to be afraid of a little kid?"
Vernon gave a hard chuckle.
"Oh, she's not a kid, she's quite an adult. She's a metamorphmagus."
His uncle was obviously enraged by a word he new to be of "their kind."
"A meta-what?"
"Metamorphmagus. It means she can take whatever shape she wants. She can be old, young, in fact, she could be a lamp post, a teacup, a sofa... You could be sitting on her in the kitchen."
Harry did his best not to laugh. The look on his uncle's face was of sheer and utter terror. Harry knew that rubbish wasn't true, but the knowledge that his uncle would be afraid to sit down was priceless.
"Well, I'll best be off... "
Harry looked at the bush to the right of the house.
"Tonks? Hmm, no"
He then stepped over the welcome matt "so as not to step on her"
He caught one last glimpse at his uncle's flabbergasted look before walking down Privit drive to the currently abandoned park.
He sat himself down on the curb, and considered for a moment calling the night buss (despite the fact it was morning). This thought was quickly dismissed as he had left his wand in his bedroom. He berated himself for being so careless, especially when death eaters could attack him at any moment. However, that idea did not seam so horrible. He would probably die eventually, if what the prophecy said was true. He found himself considering the idea, and thought that it may not be so bad, seeing his family, his godfather… he quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, trying not to dwell on guilt. He was bombarded every day with cryptic letters from his small group of friends telling him not to blame himself and he'll feel better with time. That is, accept the letters sent by Luna Lovegood, which were oddly enough delivered to him by a duck. Her letters indicated that the duck's name was Pickle-beets, which somehow seemed appropriate for a pet of Luna's. Her letter's effectively made him laugh, which was a difficult task considering his current circumstances. He carries one particular letter with him at all times, incase he should begin loathing himself.
Greetings Harry Potter,
This is Luna Lovegood. I was warned not to write anything revealing incase this letter is intercepted, but I will fix that now. If this is You-Know-Who or a death eater, than please stop reading, this is not your letter. Now, as I was saying, I have wonderful news! Daddy and I have found a Crumple-horned Snorkacks! We took a picture, but snorkacks become invisible when frightened, so you cannot see it in the picture, but we saw it! I sent you a clip of the article; I do hope you enjoy it. I doubt you will have a very happy birthday, but I wish you a pleasant one. I made you a present. It's a bottle cap watch. (I hoped you didn't want a necklace... did you?) It really does tell the time (in china). Mummy had a large collection of them. She made me the necklace I always wear. She started me on my own collection just before the incident. It helps to have a reminder of fond memories; it helps you to keep in mind that they are still with you, always. Don't forget, the supposedly dead are just like snorkacks, you may not be able to see them, but you KNOW they are there. I will see you soon Harry Potter!
Your recently acquainted Looney Friend,
Luna LovegoodThis was, in Harry's opinion, the nicest letter he had ever received. It was strange that he found the abnormal presence of Luna Lovegood to be, well, normal.
"I suppose it's not so strange, nothing about my life is normal," he mumbled to himself.
"Well it can't very well be normal if you're sitting around talking to yourself, Potter."
"Oh, Duddykins, how wonderful to see you! Have you torn yourself away from your ham sandwich just to see me? I'm so blessed!"
"Oy! I was eating a sausage sandwich, just so you know. Better than that breakfast YOU ruined."
"Oh yes… hmm…. I see the tragedy that could have befallen you. Skipping a meal! Was… was that what you saw when those dementors attacked you? Hmm? You (gulp) skinny!"
Dudley turned red and wide-eyed. He resembled a frightened, plump tomato (should tomatoes ever one day sprout eyes…). As Dudley was already unnerved, the rattling of the nearby garbage cans in the alley frightened him enough to scream loudly and take of running as fast as he could to his mommy.
Harry was on guard. It wasn't the same alley as before, and it seemed less foreboding now that it was daylight. One of the garbage cans suddenly began to tip over, spilling many of its contents onto the pavement. Harry jumped back, ready to run, when a small golden object tentatively crawled out of the garbage can, with what looked like a banana peel draped around it. It scrambled back to the area in-between the garbage cans.
His curiosity had once again gotten the best of him. Once Harry realized that there was no immediate danger, he went to see what the "object" had been.
He crouched down and saw a small lump wiggling underneath an old newspaper. He heard a soft mewing sound, and determined that the object in question was a small kitten. He gently lifted the paper, enough to tent the small creature so as to be viewed, but have the safety of it's little home.
"Come on, I'm not going to hurt you," he said in his gentlest voice.
The kitten poked its head out a little, but remained under the paper.
Harry tried making small noised that he had heard Mrs. Fig use to get her cats to come out of hiding, but that only caused it to retreat further under the paper.
Harry tried a different tactic. He nudged the paper off of its head, little by little so as not to startle it. The kitten merely "meowed" and ran to press it's visibly shaking body up against the cold garbage can.
He could see now that it was horrible malnourished, and unhealthily tiny. It looked like its skin was to tight for it's frame, and small tuffs of its dirty golden fur were missing. It also had a chip in its left ear.
'Must be the runt,' Harry thought to himself.
He tried to hold his hand out to it, but it just sidestepped to the other garbage can to it's right. He tried to hold his other hand out, but it eluded him once again. This went on for a short while, until Harry finally managed to gently scoop the identified "her" into his arms.
"I caught yah," Harry said to the kitten.
She didn't seem very scared. In fact, the shaking subsided a little and she snuggled into the warmth of Harry's arms.
"You're freezing!"
Harry tried his best to scrunch up as much of his oversized shirt as he could to cover the little quivering bundle. He stroked the top of her head as soothingly as possible, and she seemed to respond nicely.
"Come on now, I'll take you home and get you cleaned up… and fed."
Harry thought himself very fortunate that the Dursley's hadn't seen him when he entered the door, or ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Their little TV program engrossed them. Harry entered his bedroom and grabbed the nearest cloth, which happened to be an old Weasley sweater, and wrapped up his new little pet. He set her down on his pillow, and tucked the sweater around her body. She looked quite content, but nonetheless alert to what he was doing.
"Wait here alright? I have to get a washcloth to wipe you clean. I'll be right back."
'Why am I talking to a kitten?'
Harry crept down the hallway and into the bathroom. He wet a washcloth with warm water and wrung it until it was damp.
He returned to his room to find the kitten looking at him curiously. He pulled her up in his arms and cradled her while wiping the dirt off of her soft golden kitten fur.
"I supposed I should name you. All right, your gold, and I caught you. I'll call you snitch."