The Letter
The Dursley abode was hospitable at night. For without the constant micromanagement of the home by one Petunia Dursley, it took a comfortable, lived-in look that wasn't representative of the sickeningly pristine presentation that Harry had come to detest over the years.
That, however, did not ease Harry's trepidation when walking near to his cupboard – the holding cell he'd been stuck in for eleven years of his life. Memories of the nights he spent hungry and alone, aching from the long hours spent in the garden, or in pain from the rare game of Harry Hunting he found himself losing flashed through his mind, and he shook them off, one by one.
Harry, under his invisibility cloak, cast silencing charms everywhere around the cupboard – he wasn't taking any chances – and couldn't help but be surprised when he saw that the Dursleys still hadn't noticed the cupboard was unlocked. It brightened his mood, however, that he now found himself able to handle casting that many silencing charms without spending more than a few seconds catching his breath.
"Hi, Hedwig," said Harry softly, peaking in through the cupboard, immediately spotting his owl.
He knelt down, closer to eye-level with the indignant bird, who barked menacingly at the sight of her owner. "I know, I know," he whispered placatingly. "I should've done this a lot sooner."
Hedwig hooted obnoxiously and stabbed her beak repeatedly through the iron bars of her cage.
"I'm going to get you out, okay?" said Harry, still placating. "You'll be able to fly all summer. Does that sound okay, Hed?"
The bird seemed to perk up, and Harry smiled when she hooted less aggressively. "You won't have to be trapped here ever again. I promise."
With that, Harry lifted the cage containing his owl and carefully undid every silencing charm, leaving his cupboard in the same position it was when he arrived – no, broke in.
Outside he went, and with a Tempus Harry saw it was 2:00 AM – he waited too long to sneak in every night, he thought to himself with a frown.
He put his finger on the cage, signalling he was about to let it open, and Hedwig hooted quietly, heeding his nonverbal warning not to make too much noise.
The bird leapt into the air as soon as the cage opened, and Harry grinned happily at his pet. Hedwig was free.
"Come back in the morning, Hedwig," said Harry. "I'll have something for you then." With that, Hedwig nodded and flew off into the night, hooting happily.
Harry considered going back into the Dursleys' home to sleep but figured that he'd already been up for too long, anyway. Time would be better spent on his new favourite hobby – casting magic.
Unfortunately, Harry was still limited in what he could do. He could only chain minor transfiguration spells and a few charms – but for Harry, it was astonishing progress considering how slowly he'd taken to the stunning spell.
Still under his cloak, Harry meandered around aimlessly through Little Whinging, casting random, unnoticeable and harmless spells in Parseltongue. The feeling was incredible, especially now that he was getting accustomed to casting in the Language of Serpents.
When he felt that he'd been casting the same spells for too long, Harry decided to try something different – he'd read about the charm shortly after he learned about the stunning spell. He didn't think he'd have success, as the spell was even more difficult to perform than Stupefy, but he did it anyway. With a diagonal cut down and a slice right, "Diffindo!"
Harry gaped at the sight in front of him.
Fallen flowers, torn grass, and scattered weeds populated the once neatly maintained garden. Some had fallen farther away, and the severing charm's residue was potent, permeating throughout the garden, reeking of snake-like magic Harry had the fortune (or misfortune) of being able to detect.
'I did that?' Harry thought to himself incredulously. 'I did that?!' He wasn't even that exhausted!
Panicking, Harry looked around to see if anyone had taken notice of the shredded garden, and even though no one was in sight and he was still under his cloak, Harry felt very, very exposed.
'I did that…'
He waited a few moments, and, "Stupefy."The spell came out like normal – slightly below the average stunner, though Harry wasn't sure anymore, but it did nowhere near the damage his overpowered severing charm had just caused.
"Finite." And the garden was back to normal – the Harolds, the family the garden belonged to, wouldn't know anything.
He wasn't sure if Regila would have an answer for this.
'Right,' Harry thought nervously. 'No more severing charms for tonight.'
Harry walked back quietly to No. 4, feeling as if the moon itself was staring him down. The dead silence of the night did nothing to ease his newfound tension, and it was getting harder and harder not to try and sneak off to Diagon Alley. He had so many questions, and Regila had too few and too unsatisfying answers.
It didn't take too much brooding before Harry's other dilemma came into purview – Ron and Hermione.
Should he write them? He had treated them awfully at the end of Second Year, and interactions would be strained and awkward at best, especially with Hermione. Harry considered waiting for them to write, but he didn't like the idea of not being the one setting the tone for how things would be between the three from now on.
"I will not tell you how to handle Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, because I do not know how," Dumbledore had said with a chuckle that really made Harry doubt the man's sanity. "They are your friends, after all."
Crazy old bastard.
For now, though, Harry was feeling more vindictive than usual, so came a flick down-left of his wand, "Serpensortia!"
"I have been summoned," said the snake immediately, with reverence. "By a sspeaker, no less. I am honoured, noble one." The snake bowed its head and its eyes glowed.
"Indeed, you have," replied Harry. "I need to irritate these Muggles – the ones who imprison your kind," That hit the right note, seeing how the snake perked up. "Go into that house," Harry pointed at No. 4, "And pick their foods clean, make a mess of their den, and if you wish to regrow your fangs multiple times, you are also free to chip on their woods and furniture. Wake them up and terrify them if you wish. Wreak havoc, noble snake, Speakers' blessed!"
The snake was all too happy to follow Harry's orders, and Harry grinned as he watched the snake slither in through the door, and into the Whale exhibit.
Harry continued to smile, for then he knew his decision to stay awake was completely worth it, despite the tiredness he was dreading tomorrow.
At a most convenient hour of 4 in the morning, the screams and screeches of Vernon and Petunia Dursley would resonate with the inhabitants of Privet Drive.
Harry was surprised, the next day, to find a brown-spotted owl flying his way. He was wary of the letter in the bird's hand, scared it'd be a trap, but reluctantly took the letter from the bird's mouth, who annoyingly didn't fly away – whoever sent this wanted or expected a response, then.
He opened the letter – no stamp, no nothing – Harry was even further confused, and opened the paper to an unfamiliar, sporadic looking scrawl that wasn't exactly the easiest to read.
Hi, Harry, began the letter. Harry frowned. This was oddly personable.
I don't really know where to begin this… maybe James, maybe Lily, maybe the traitor that ruined everything and left you a burdened orphan, living with those awful relatives of yours. Maybe I shouldn't be writing this at all.
Harry froze. How did this person know about the Dursleys?
I guess I should start with myself. My name – well, I can't tell you that right now, but I met your father on the Hogwarts Express when we were eleven. I remember the first thing we did was brag and compare our chocolate frog cards, even though I only had 3, and when James saw I had one of none other than Salazar Slytherin himself, he laughed and asked if I was a 'snake already?'
Imagine the surprise of him and his other 'friend' – the traitor, who was sitting with him as well, when I get sorted into Gryffindor.
Over our years at Hogwarts, we formed a little rag-tag group, four of us, it was, playing pranks, wreaking havoc, annoying staff and the like – we called ourselves the Marauders after Lily had screamed the name at us in one of our signature common-room fights during Second Year. Dear Merlin, that woman was terrifying…
Then it happened. The Dark Lord rose, and James and Lily had to go into hiding. They were put under the Fidelius Charm, a powerful charm that hides a chosen secret – any – in the soul of the secret keeper, an individual who keeps said secret. The only way to circumvent the charm would be for the secret keeper to willingly reveal the secret.
That's what happened to James and Lily.
The secret keeper – the traitor – sold them out and killed a dozen Muggles on his way – but he didn't know when to stop. Then he went after me.
I got caught in blasting curse and was lucky to escape, the traitor unlucky to get caught, only losing my finger. But that's why I'm writing you this letter and not talking to you in person – most everyone thought I died in that blast. Obviously, I didn't. Harry snorted.
Like you, I didn't want to get caught in all the hype and melodrama – Harry could relate to that, he supposed - and stayed low. I've been living in relative peace the past few years.
This is where you come in. I know you're in the Muggle world, so you'll get this news a bit late, but that traitor, – the one who betrayed your parents, has escaped from Azkaban. Watch out for a Sirius Black. And there's no doubt he's going to be coming after you.
I have a – disguise, shall we say – so I look forward to finally meeting my honorary godnephew in person, should you choose to accept. This letter is an undetectable portkey that'll activate one week from now at 6:00 PM exactly. It'll take you to a less crowded part of Diagon (Portus revellio with a swish upwards will confirm this ) – we can talk then. It's okay if you don't come, but if not, I'd appreciate you at least write back to me.
Solemnly,
Peter Pettigrew.
Harry's mind was racing – he was breathing a little quickly, and his eyes kept sweeping over the letter in some kind of intense stare that, even to him, felt unnatural.
"Portus revellio!" Thankfully, the spell was incredibly easy to cast, even in Parseltongue. Indeed, the letter-portkey displayed a slightly less dense part of Diagon Alley, but one that still had people rolling through daily. He would be safe in that sense, then.
Something felt off about this Pettigrew fellow felt off, though. Harry couldn't place his finger on it. But – this could be it. Pettigrew could be his key to Diagon Alley, his key to finally getting some answers and breaking out of the limited amount of spells mentioned in the few books he owned.
Though above all, what happened to Harry in the Chamber of Secrets could never happen again. Pettigrew could be lying, or dangerous, or perhaps whoever this was wasn't even Peter Pettigrew and was simply pretending to be him to fool Harry.
Yet, how could Harry make sure that what happened in the Chamber would never happen again if all he had at his disposal were weak stunners and an overpowered severing charm that Harry wasn't confident in at all? It could just as easily hurt himself if he wasn't careful.
Whatever he would do, Harry had to come up with something in the week's time, before that portkey activated.
Then there was the other thought in his mind that Harry had been trying to push away – this man, apparently, was his family
Not like-the-Dursleys family, but one who actually knew his parents on a personal level, and seemed to be rather fond of them if the letter was anything to go by. He'd also learned a lot – which brought Harry the uncomfortable reminder that he knew so very little about his own parents.
'Honorary godnephew,' what did Pettigrew mean by that? Did that mean one Marauder was his… godfather? Black, maybe? Harry did not enjoy considering the idea, and a shiver ran down his spine.
He was putting too much stock in the letter, Harry finally decided – and definitely not because he was uncomfortable.
Harry tried to ignore everything and go back to studying spell after spell, casting one after the other as Little Whinging awakened, but the Boy-Who-Lived simply could not.
As of now, Harry had only decided on one thing, though – he would be waiting and listening in on the Dursleys' TV and checking their newspapers in the name of seeing if this Sirius Black did even exist, let alone betray his parents and be the entire reason for his imprisonment at No. 4. 'Well,' amended Harry after a thought. 'Previous' imprisonment.
Admittedly, the thought was appealing – he'd have someone to really blame for all his troubles along with Voldemort, a live human being, and not a miserably floating wraith in the forests of Albania, if Dumbledore was thought to be correct.
Harry, however, did not miss the part in the letter about killing twelve Muggles and a blasting curse so strong that it was the reason Pettigrew had a finger torn off. Sirius Black could be a dangerous man. The Basilisk was a deadly beast. Tom Riddle was something else entirely.
Harry could not help but shiver again – things were already simpler when he was sneaking around Little Whinging under his cloak, firing spells and reading books in the dead of night, and added mental stress was certainly unwelcome.
Maybe he should write Dumbledore, and simply ask the Headmaster for guidance, but despite his generally positive view of the man, Harry wasn't completely comfortable with that either.
The question never left Harry's mind - what does Peter Pettigrew want with me?
If Harry didn't even know Stupefy, he definitely wouldn't know Muffliato, which he learned in sixth year from Snape's potions book. Also, Muffliato doesn't prevent people from hearing you anyway, it just makes it so anyone within earshot hears buzzing instead, so they can't make out what exactly you're saying.
There is a reason why Harry knows Muffliato, which will be brought up later on. As for how the spell itself functions, here, it's not much more than an above-average silencing charm that turns the noise into a buzz if the sound is continuous. Other than that, it functions normally. The italics in last chapter were just a goof.
How frequent will the updates be?
Expect updates to be sporadic and inconsistent. Though I will say that updates should not take as long as two months, like the one between Chapters 1 & 2.
All feedback & reviews are greatly appreciated, thanks everyone!