THC
Round 7
Ffn: EndofthePage
House: Slytherin
Category: Themed
Theme: Forgotten – Forgetting something/someone, being forgotten by someone
Prompt: [Colour] Salmon
Challenges: This also has a challenge 2 prompt - [sound] raindrops on the glass
Word count: 1351
Disclaimer/TWs:
Beta: gingerdream, StoryPlease, MossLynne
There was a young boy, sitting, waiting, in a train station. He was eleven. He had just had one of the best and scariest years of his life and yet, here he was, back to face reality.
Most people would say that they were going home for the summer.
But home wasn't a word Harry would use. He pulled on the hem of his knitted salmon-coloured sweatshirt. It was a present from Hermione, for his Christmas gift. He wore it today to remind him of his actual home. To remind him of the life he built at Hogwarts.
He was glad he did because he had been forgotten, once again, by the Dursleys. He had no idea where they were, and he didn't know what to do, either. He didn't have any Muggle money.
He didn't know who to tell. He didn't want anyone to worry.
So, he sat.
And waited.
The feeling of being forgotten twisted and turned in his stomach. He knew that the Dursleys probably had something better to be doing than worrying about him returning from school. It was normal, they didn't care about him. Not really.
But now, as he took out the photo album Hagrid had given him, he smiled, the twisting dread turned to warmth and happiness, looking at how happy his parents were.
After twenty minutes of looking through the album, he put it away, hidden safely. Harry recognised Vernon Dursley through the crowd. He stood, with his belongings and walked towards him, through the slightly busy station.
"Come on, boy. Hurry up." Vernon ushered him out.
Harry sighed. No polite greeting was given to him whatsoever. He was used to it. But the doubt had now crept in. Thoughts that whispered, perhaps, if he hadn't been the Boy Who Lived, would his friends forget about him too?
They walked in silence to the car, and Vernon got in while Harry struggled with putting his belongings in the boot. Eventually, he managed, and sat in the passenger seat, with Vernon giving him a very unimpressed look before driving off.
Harry wasn't surprised when Uncle Vernon turned on the radio, tapping his hands on the steering wheel, and hummed to the music.
"Where were you?" Harry asked, in a small voice. He regretted it a moment later when he received a glare in return.
"At home, enjoying the weekend. Dudders went out with his friends and Petunia and I were watching TV," Vernon replied, not leaving any more room for a conversation as he turned up the radio.
So they had forgotten him. It wasn't like they didn't realise what the time was or they had been busy doing something else. They really hadn't remembered about his coming home.
It made his insides turn, a funny feeling as he stared out of the car window, playing with his salmon sweater once again. He just hoped that Hermione and Ron would write to him– he needed their friendship, now more than ever.
"I don't recognise that sweater, boy," Vernon said, interrupting his thoughts.
"One of my best friends got it for me, it was a gift!" Harry said, smiling a small smile, not being able to hide the happiness in his voice.
He frowned, however, when Uncle Vernon huffed in disbelief. Harry hung his head, knowing that they wouldn't believe that he had made friends, let alone have best friends.
"I don't like orange," Vernon replied, his tone bitter and sharp.
"It's salmon!" Harry corrected before he could stop himself and at the look Uncle Vernon gave him, he immediately quietened down and kept to himself.
He was soon lost in his thoughts, wondering what Hermione and Ron were doing. He thought about Ron greeting his many siblings, and a big, warm, happy family to be able to go home to. Harry remembered that Hermione mentioned going to France with her parents for the holidays, which sounded like a lot more fun than what he was going to have. He wished, and hoped, that one day, he would be able to have fun adventures with his own family.
He listened to the rain tapping against the glass window, the vibration of the car and the song in the background. It was oddly calming to listen to the rain, it helped him ignore everything else. He closed his eyes, exhausted.
Perhaps his problems would just disappear if he slept for a while.
Later, when they arrived at his so-called home, Uncle Vernon took all his stuff and locked it away. Harry couldn't stop his tears, not being able to do anything about it.
"But I have homework!" Harry said, his voice quivering, "You can't–"
"This is my house, boy. No more freakishness! No magic, understood?" Vernon snapped, red-faced.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, turning to face his Aunt Petunia, who had a neutral expression on her face. He saw Dudley next to her, eating some chocolate, grinning. He was clearly enjoying seeing his cousin so upset.
"Go to your room. We'll call you at dinner," Vernon said, pointing up the stairs.
Harry ran up, not wanting to look at their faces as tears fell down his cheeks. He sniffed and closed the door heavily. It wasn't even his room. Dudley's stuff had moved, but it did not feel like home. Not like his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory.
If anything it was weird.
He made his way to the bed, and sat down, bringing his knees to his chest, and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Only then did he let himself cry fully.
He remembered the conversation he had with his friends before they parted at the station.
"We'll write to you, Harry! Everyday!" Hermione said, hugging him.
His nerves settled only slightly, and he smiled into Hermione's shoulder as they hugged. "You will? Really?"
"Yes, of course! Don't act so surprised!" Hermione replied as she let go after a few moments. "I'm here for you, always!"
"You too, Hermione!" Harry said, his heart clenching at how lucky he was to be friends with Hermione. He watched her go with her parents, waving goodbye.
"I'll write to you too, Harry!" Ron said, bringing him into a warm hug.
Harry didn't stop his smile, as he nodded, "Every day?"
"Oh bloody hell, no. But I will write every other day," Ron joked, patting him on the back as he let go.
Harry laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at his best friend.
"Feel free to visit us, dear!" Molly said, with a warm, motherly smile.
"See you next year, Harry!" Ron spoke as he left, also waving goodbye. He was walking backwards as he did and nearly tripped over.
Harry laughed again as Ron had to turn around, leaving him by himself. He was happy. He had hope that everything was going to be okay.
Harry wiped his eyes with his sleeve but that didn't help. How was he going to write to Hermione and Ron, now? If he couldn't write to them all summer what would they think? He bit his lip and banged his head on the wall in frustration.
To think he had hope when all he had was the sweater Hermione had given him. He didn't even like the colour salmon, it was a bit too out there for his taste. But he didn't care about that, because he'd have anything to remind him of how great it was without the Dursleys.
A few hours had gone by and it was late evening, almost past nine o'clock. He wasn't surprised that the Dursleys had forgotten about him again. He was startled from the book he was reading, at the sound of a knock on his bedroom door, he frowned.
Opening it, there was tomato soup on a tray with some bread.
Was this really how his summer was going to go?
There was a note.
We went out for a meal, and only just got back. I made this for you. You can expect it to be the usual summer routine tomorrow. -Petunia.
Great, Harry thought, just great.