Harry Potter and the Hermetic Arts
Chapter 22: Homecoming
Harry was wrong, and he was big enough of a person to admit it.
It only took Hermione a month and a half to figure out how to properly control her personal magical power; despite his best attempts, she couldn't connect with the Astral plane at all, but her control of the magical power that came from her belly was stable, and they had moved on to the few first-level spells which only required a verbal component. As Harry had expected, Hermione had memorized the Forms and Techniques within the first weekend, but it still took her the six weeks and change she had needed her to learn to control the flow of her magic to start thinking more critically on how each Form could be used; when he had quizzed her previously on the verbal components for spells, she would often find herself stuck on the Form, struggling to select the correct one to achieve the effect Harry was questioning her about. Clearly, creativity was not going to be her strong suit.
With this in mind, Harry had suggested to Hermione she focus her energy on improving her mastery of rote magic rather than worrying too much about spontaneous magic, and she took to the suggestion like a fish to water: as long as he showed her the specific gestures and incantations and explain the visualization to her, she could learn just about any spell very quickly, but if he asked her to try to figure out how a spell from one of the books could be recreated, she would be stumped. Then again, she was still learning the mudras and kuji-in he used in spellcasting, so maybe she would get better with time and practice, though Harry wasn't sure he could repair the damage the rote learning of public education system had done to her critical thinking ability.
The Hufflepuff head of house had went around a week ago, making a list of Hufflepuffs staying for the two weeks between terms, and Harry had signed up at once, not because he wanted to, but because it was expected of him, given the backstory he had fed the staff. Of course, Harry had had no intentions then of actually being at Hogwarts when the break began; he would simply arrange for a way to exit stage left when the time came, because that was what he was going to do, and he wasn't going to let anybody stop him.
Leaving the dormitory room he shared with Roger in the same disorderly state as he would were he staying during the break with the exception of packing the peppers he had hung up to dry out, Harry made arrangements for his roommate deliver his haversack to Fay Dunbar on the morning of the twenty-third of December under the guise of having her deliver it to his relatives through some of her normal relatives, then spent the night before sleeping inside his haversack in a sleeping bag he had bought with the idea of possibly needing it for cold nights, though the basement that made up the Hufflepuff dormitory were surprisingly well-insulated against the snow that had fallen outside, staying warm even as the rest of the campus became chilly.
Harry kept himself busy inside his haversack, working on the last of his independent study for the term and cleaning the inside of his bag for the first time since he had left home for Hogwarts. Only when he was sure it was past departure time did he emerge from his bag, dressed in full streetwear consisting of jeans, a hooded cardigan, a handkerchief over the lower half of his face and some basic trainers, shouting, "Surprise, muthafuckas!" at the top of his lungs, in an American accent.
The ruckus was enough to make Neville drop the lit spliff in his hands onto the cushions of the seats he was laid out on.
"Harry! You scared me!" exclaimed the Longbottom boy, slapping the seat as he tried to put out the embers that had fallen onto the upholstery before it could catch fire; the normally pigtailed brunette seated across from him had snatched up the joint and had taken a drag from it, pushing her unbraided hair back behind an ear.
"That was a good one, Harry," Fay said with a wide grin, passing the joint back to Neville. "Thought you were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas."
"That's what I wanted the professors to think," Harry said, smiling back. "Keep my secret?"
"We will," agreed the Gryffindors after sharing a look.
"Why didn't you want the professors to know?" asked Fay, clearly the inquisitive one of the pair.
"I told them my cousin would beat me everyday, and my aunt and uncle would lock me in a cupboard below the stairs," Harry said wryly. "Hard to imagine wanting to return to that."
"Did he?" asked the girl, eyes widening. "Did they?"
"Want to see the scars?" Harry asked back.
"Why are you going back to them?" asked Neville, suddenly serious.
"Who said I am?" countered Harry. "You know me, I'll make something work."
"Then why not stay at Hogwarts?" Fay asked, clearly thinking it was the superior option.
"I need to resupply," Harry said. "I mean, what if another troll gets in?"
"More jellied petrol?"
"Not specifically that, but something like that."
A lull in the conversation followed; it was then that Harry finally got to ask the question he had wanted to since he emerged from his bag: "Where's the ginger cunt-muffin?"
"Weasley?" said Fay.
Harry shrugged. "He's been on to the two of you like a bad rash after the troll."
"He's the worst," Neville said with a sigh. "Ever since then, he thinks we're going to be heroes and hasn't stopped pestering us. What he used to do to you, he does to us now."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said, genuinely pitying the Gryffindors. "Need me to do something about him?"
"Naw, it's fine," said the girl with a shrug. "These days, I just get him started talking about Quidditch, and it's like having the sports section of the Daily Prophet and Quidditch Through the Ages all rolled into one person."
"You like Quidditch?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow upwards.
"Love it," Fay agreed with a smile.
Harry held up a hand, stopping her before she could continue. "Unfortunately, I don't," he said, not wanting to get the girl talking about a sport he knew and cared nothing about.
"So, how'd you get the twat-waffle to leave you alone this time?" he asked.
By this time, the last of the spliff had been smoked, and Neville was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed and a huge smile on his face. Without opening his eyes, the chubby boy answered, "He's staying at Hogwarts with his brothers; his parents are going to Romania."
"Huh," Harry said as he rose up, picking up his bag. "Well, I'm going to leave you kids to your joint and go looking for more people to scare, so enjoy your day."
"You too, Harry," echoed the two Gryffindors.
"Dunbar. Longbottom."
~ooOoo~
Of course, Harry did not spent the rest of the train trip scaring people; that was stupid and would blow his cover, so instead, he found himself a nice, quiet cubbyhole and spent his time reading and taking notes.
Now, he was at 4 Privet Drive, having gotten himself back to Surrey without incident, and he rang the doorbell, not wanting to use magic to unlock it as to not give his aunt and uncle a reason to lock him away. Because the Hogwarts Express had left Hogwarts in the morning, it was only early evening instead of being completely dark, and he could see the garden had been well-kept in his absence; he wondered if his aunt and uncle had put Dudley on the task.
The door opened to a comely young woman, no more than thirty, and Harry found himself almost at a loss for words for the moment.
"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling in a way that made her nose crinkle.
"Is this 4 Privet Drive?" Harry asked, leaning to the side as he checked the numbering on the wall to make sure he had the correct address.
"You're at the right place," said the woman. "Can I help you?"
"I used to live here," said the boy, looking the woman in the eye.
"You don't look that old," she said, cocking her head to the side.
"I lived here, back in the summer, before my aunt and uncle sent me to boarding school," Harry said, rephrasing the sentiment in a way that would make sense to a stranger.
"And you came here all by yourself?" she asked. When Harry nodded, her expression softened into one of concerned. "Would you like to come in?"
"I'd like that," Harry said, and the woman stepped aside, allowing the boy passage inside.
Inside, it looked little like Harry remembered; though the floor, walls and ceiling were the same, the furniture had replaced with things with modern designs and the knick-knacks were gone, leaving simple accommodations he could see the appeal of.
He allowed himself be led into the dining room and sat down at the dining table, still looking around at the redesigned living space.
"Would you like some tea, dear?" asked the woman.
"I'm fine, just trying to digest everything," said the boy, as the woman sat down at the table. "Oh, I haven't even introduced myself yet! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm David."
"Georgiana," said the woman, taking the boy's proffered hand in her own and shaking it lightly.
"If it's not too much to ask, can you tell me how you came to live here?" Harry-as-David asked.
"It's no trouble," the woman said. "My husband and I were looking to buy a house when our estate agent told us of a couple who were selling their home right away, at below market value, because they were moving out of the country. Of course, we jumped at the chance to buy such a nice property, even though we had to get rid of all the things they left behind.
"Would you like to see your room?"
"I'm fine," the boy said. "They used to lock me in the cupboard under the stairs."
The woman's eyes widened in alarm. "Those were yours? When we saw the bedding and things, we had hoped they weren't using it as a room, but we couldn't be sure."
"Doesn't matter now," Harry said with a shrug. "No point in dwelling on the past."
A pause followed, then Harry asked another question. "What's with all the feral cats? Did something happen to the cat lady who lived down the way?"
"She was hit by a lorry the day we came to see the property," the woman explained. "Word is she passed away before they could take her to hospital."
"That's a shame," Harry said, as he stood up. "I should go. I've taken up enough of your time, and I still need to find accommodations for the evening."
"You could stay the evening," the woman suggested.
"Thank you, I really wouldn't want to impose," the boy said with a smile, as he headed for the front door.
"You can come by anytime if you need anything," the woman said, following him, intent on escorting him on his departure.
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Harry assured the woman. "Please, enjoy this home; it's a good place and deserves good people living in it."
~ooOoo~
Rosemary Davies was not expecting the doorbell, so when it rang, it made her jump out of the sofa in surprise, nearly spilling the bowl of crisps she was eating from.
"Coming!" she called out, using the remote to pause the VCR before going to the door. Pausing to check the peephole, she saw nothing in the hallway and started to walk back to the sofa when the doorbell range again, nearly scaring her out of her socks.
Cautiously, she cracked the door open, only to stumble back in surprise when a hand clamped itself on the wood, forcing it open. Falling onto her rear, it took a moment for her eyes to properly register what she was seeing.
"'Squeak?" asked the woman, staring up at the boy standing in the doorway from where she sat on the floor. "What're you doing here? You scared me."
"Probably because you were watching a horror flick," said Harry, lips twisting in a slight smirk. Seeing Romy's chastened expression, he reached down, offering her a hand. "Mind if I sofa surf again tonight? I need a place to stay."
"I didn't know you were coming back for holiday," she said, letting Harry help her up. "Of course you can stay the night."
"Good, 'cause I brought food," said the boy, holding up two plastic bags filled with ingredients. "I'm going to be in the kitchen; I'll let you know when food's done."
"All right," Romy said.
Then, as Harry walked by, she added, "Welcome home, Harry."
Author's Notes: The second of the two-chapter release. Again, a shorter, lighter chapter.
Yes, I do not like the public education system: it teaches too much memorization and regurgitation instead of critical thinking and analysis of facts. While that might be fine for basic arithmetic and learning letters and words, it doesn't hold up when it comes to things like English literature and more advanced STEM coursework.
I know that Dexter didn't air its first season until October 1st, 2006, and "Surprise, Motherfucker!" wasn't broadcast until December 17th, 2006, but I personally couldn't resist, so that was me as the writer making the reference, as opposed to Harry the character doing so.
Ron Weasley. Groupie. Attention seeker. Quidditch expert. Even somebody as annoying as he has his uses. Just not to the main character of the story.
It's always been strange to me that, for people who seem as terrified of magic and hateful of it as they were, the Dursleys didn't leave the country and seek asylum elsewhere once they were rid of Harry even temporarily. For them, being faced with magical people would be like finding out a terrible plague is approaching from the horizon, and even if they have to uproot their life, they'd leave anyways because, well, it's a horrible plague that kills people. If anything, the blood wards which were created against their will would motivate them to get away even more. Unless, of course, they were under some kind of mind control, but surely Dumbledore would not do that, would he? Well, this inept version of Dumbledore certainly didn't.
David may be just a random name for Harry, but it's a little bit of a film reference from me. A contemporary film, so Harry wouldn't know of it, but it's one of my favorites.
I don't know why I felt like Figg getting hit by a truck was in character for her, but it felt right from even before I started the first chapter. I suppose it's because I think she must have witnessed at least some of the abuse heaped on Harry yet did nothing about it beyond maybe report it upstairs, if that, making her complicit in the abuse.
Yes, Harry Potter's moving away from 4 Privet Drive. It was always bound to happen for this version of Harry.
I think Harry and Romy are good together, though I also feel that way about Harry and Karen, and Harry and Jason. No, I don't mean it romantically, just that when I write scenes involving them interaction, it feels natural, like they have great interpersonal chemistry. I think it's probably because each of them reflects an aspect of Harry that he values: Romy for her scientific approach to the world and her skepticism of things presented to her, Karen for her ability to submerse herself in being somebody else, and Jason for that edge of danger and violence bubbling just below the surface.
Review, PM... like acquiring the distribution rights of a movie, you get the picture.
Credit to Shinshikaizer for the original story pitch and goalie12345 for copy-editing. Furthermore, my thanks to Romantically Distant for additional editing and proofing.