17. Howling
Harry was currently listening to a tirade, from the courtesy of Uncle Vernon. Yesterday, his aunt had caught him doing some of his Hogwarts homework during the night. The boy had been sure that she had screeched like never before.
Dudley was in a fit of giggles seeing his freak of a cousin being berated so harshly. It was almost impressive how purple his uncle could become. Harry had learned a long ago not to put too much stock on what his uncle yelled at him for. Situations may change, but the content hadn't altered in years. He was a freak, they were saints for taking him in, his behavior made a poor environment for their son, and Harry had no hope to be different from his poor excuse for parents.
As of late it was always that last one that got to him. It burned something deep inside of him that they felt that they could get away with mocking his deceased parents. At those moments, he could see Voldemort getting along well with them. By the look of their faces, they wanted him to refute them.
"Do you understand me boy?"
He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Gritting his teeth, he dully said, "I understand, Uncle Vernon." Seeming content with his submissiveness, Uncle Vernon sent Harry upstairs.
Once upstairs, Harry began to collect all of his things for the year. He wasn't going to stay a moment longer in this household. Harry wasn't sure where he would stay, but it wasn't going to be here.
Fully packed, he walked towards his fish tank. Taking out his spell book, he read one of the newer spells that appeared after the book had consumed the blue orb from Ys, "It is not down on any map; true places rarely are (Aqua Conveyance)."
In a blink of the eye, Harry was sucked into the waters of the tank. As he was traveling through the waters, his mind was filled with all possible locations he could travel. One spot came to mind and he grabbed unto it.
With a splash, Harry leapt from a puddle not too far away from a house. Said house looked like a number of smaller houses stacked precariously on top of each other. Harry thought it was brilliant. Walking past a barn, he stepped to the porch of the dwelling area.
He knocked firmly and waited anxiously.
A short, plump, kindly looking woman with red hair answered. "Harry, dear? What are you doing here?"
"I was wondering if you would mind me sleeping over for a couple days. I won't be here long, I just need to find a place to stay. My relatives and I had a bit of a spat", Harry said as he slightly squirmed in place. Quickly, he explained the happenings.
"Of course, you're free to stay here until you have to leave to Hogwarts." Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "I won't accept anything less", she added when Harry spoke to alieve her burden.
Seeing that this wasn't an argument he was going to win, he said, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
Mrs. Weasley pulled him into the house. The inside felt very homely and welcoming. A huge difference to the sterile almost intimidating atmosphere of the Dursleys' house.
"Blimey, Harry, when did you get here?" Ron said as he came down the stairs. The young Weasley beamed at the sight of his best friend.
"I just got here. Mrs. Weasley said I could stay here until we all go to Hogwarts. Sorry about not responding to your letters. I only got them recently."
"That's fine, mate. No harm done. Do you want to play some Quidditch? Fred and George are getting the brooms."
"You two have fun. I just need to tell your Father about Harry."
With her blessing, both boys raced outside to get brooms. Harry hadn't really gone flying since his flying lessons from his first year of Hogwarts. The lessons had been informative but dry. Being so preoccupied, Harry flew very little.
"Well what do we have here, Fred?"
"I believe it's little Ronny and his friend Harry Potter, George."
"Good eyesight, my brother."
The twins said as Harry and Ron came up to them. Ron looked annoyed by the nickname. Harry was merely glad that they weren't making a fuss over the whole Boy-Who-Lived mythos.
"Do the little second years know how to fly?" Either Fred or George asked them. Ron rolled his eyes before snatching a broom. Harry smiled thinly as he picked his up. Placing the broom between his legs he willed the broom to lift him from the ground.
Ignoring the others he felt the sudden urge to fly. Blasting off, he flew right out of the property. He twisted his body and swirled high above. The winds were whipping in his face.
He didn't care. With another boom beneath him, he reached the clouds and curved sharply but smoothly. Looking below, he fell in love with the sight of land beneath him. Up here everything felt better. Never had Harry felt so free, so in control. At that singular moment, Harry cared only for the domain of the sky.
Bellowing in the wind, he shot straight down from the clouds. From below the Weasley brothers watched slack jawed as the black haired preteen kept flying perfect downwards. Just as he was to crash to the ground, he twirled softly and landed with very little impact. "That was fun", he said easily.
"Crickey Harry, you almost gave me a heart attack. When did you get so good with a broom", Ron questioned.
"I just did what was natural", he responded with a shrug.
The twins looked at each other as though Christmas had come early.
"You know what this means, right Fred."
"Of course, George."
Both brothers turned towards Harry with serious eyes, "You're trying out for the house Quidditch team."
Ron nodded seriously in agreement.
Harry shrugged, it couldn't hurt to try.
