Due to the fact that that it was a miserable day and he was in the company of miserable people, Harry Potter was not in too much of a good mood. Thick storm clouds hovered above the little pavilion, misting the air with a faint drizzle and managing to make the whole atmosphere feel damp and dank. Uncle Vernon's laughter echoed through the tent along with several other newly initiated members of the Boxmore's Country Club as they fawned over one of the senior member's, Joxer Williams, poorly told jokes. His belly shook as he "Haw Haw"ed loudly and his face turned a deep shade of red. The sight was enough to make Harry sick, but that might have just been from Mrs. Williams's fruit salad that Aunt Petunia had made him eat.
Perhaps it was the Dursleys' form of revenge against Harry for his attending. It wasn't his fault that someone messed up along the lines of communication and let it be known that the Dursleys had two children and not just one. Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had sought desperately to come up with a valid excuse to explain Harry's absence for the family welcome party. The idea of Harry being in the hospital was entertained briefly but quickly rejected for fear of questions about why he was there.
So here Harry was stuck, crammed in under a too crowded tent being forced to gag down home poisoned food by various important members' wives. These woman could teach even Professor Snape a thing or two about brewing poisons, especially the short pig-nosed one who had concocted a strange sludge she claimed was a foreign recipe for both a salad dressing and a drink. Harry shuddered and hoped not even Aunt Petunia would be cruel enough to make him take some more of that one.
Hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, Harry watched the rain poor down and the occasional bird who would brave the weather to flit from tree to tree. He had written Professor Dumbledore a week ago asking if and when he would be allowed to leave the Dursleys. Mrs. Weasley had made it very clear in the last letter she had sent him that he would be welcome to stay with them whenever he managed to get away from his Aunt and Uncle. Harry couldn't help but grin as he remembered the scribbled out 'those horrible Muggles of yours' she had initially written before addressing them as something a bit more tactful. Reaching down, he picked a blade of grass which he began to shred absent mindedly.
The Weasleys' letter was not the only one still on his mind. Hermione had written him just two days ago about her time at the beach with Viktor. They would be there a week more and though she sounded like she was having a pleasant time, he was still a little nervous. Krum was at least three years older then her and the idea of possibility of them dating seemed... unnerving. Perhaps it was just Ron, who continued to send him posts every other day expressing his fear of what an unattended Victor and Hermione might be capable off despite her constant reassurances to her them both that they were 'just friends'. Ron's response, directed to Harry of course, was: "And what are we, rotted cabbage? Why aren't we with her at the beach?" He didn't know about Ron, but the thought of Hermione in a swim-suit was... unsettling.
He had a pile a couple inches high of shredded grass before he realized what he was doing. Sighing, he stood up and caught sight of Aunt Petunia moving towards him, a tall thin woman carrying a plate of what looked like fried something trailing along behind her. Looking about frantically, he wondered if he should try and brave the crowd and escape to the little boys room before remembering that was where Dudley was hiding. Not even the great love of her Dudley-poo would prevent Aunt Patunia from exposing him to the horrors of taste-testing her new friends' food. Sucking it up, he stood up straight and resigned himself to his fate, all the while toying with the idea of expressing his feelings for the food this time by vomiting it up onto the woman's lovely white shoes.
As the fates would have it, Harry was saved from the provable frying pan by being promptly tossed into fire. The loud hoot that sounded throughout the air was just a momentary warning before the feathery white form of Hedwig soared under the tent-top and began circling as she hooted again. As if that wasn't bad enough, the small feathery projectile also known as Pig shot under the pavilion and began to hoot frantically. There were several screams from the woman, and a lout 'THUMP' or two as a couple fainted away right on the spot. Aunt Petunia couldn't seem to make up her mind as she gave a strangled half-croak, half-yell and collapsed onto the grassy floor in a heap. Her plate hefting friend also rolled her eyes up in her head and toppled over, dropping the plate and saving Harry the effort of smearing the horribly fried food across her fine white clothing.
Hedwig spotted him and winged it over to land on his shoulder. Pig on the other hand looked utterly confused by the mass of shrieking people as he rolled and dived, scattering feathers everywhere and landing in the occasional poorly cooked dish. By the time the smaller owl had managed to find him, perching on the chair Harry had just vacated, he was covered in an assortment of glistening oils, two spinach leaves, and a scrap of some kind of meat with he gnawed on happily. It might have been comical if not everyone in the room had stopped to stared, those who were still standing of course. Almost everyone was shocked, one or two looked amused, and only Uncle Vernon's face held that interesting mix of hatred, anger, and fear. A groan from the crumpled form of Aunt Petunia told him she two would be up and glaring at him any moment now.
A affectionate nip from Hedwig caused him to break eye-contact with Uncle Vernon and slowly turn to direct his gaze towards the owls. A large pouch was tied to Hedwig's left leg and a letter bound to the right. Numbly, he reached down and undid the letter. "What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Williams called out in indignation. From the irritated look on his face, he was not fond of owls interrupting him while telling a joke. "Vernon, isn't that your kid?" he asked. A sudden flurry of whispering broke out around the tent while Uncle Verrnon's mouth worked open and shut several times without making a sound. All the bull-necked man was able to do was produce a faint squawking noise in the end and look very very horrified.
Harry noticed none of this as he gazed down in surprise at the letter Hedwig had brought him. In a clear crisp handwriting, it read:
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Dear Harry Potter-
Taking into consideration your many requests, your current situation, and the requests on part of the Weasleys, I am happy to announce that should you choose, you have the school's and the Ministry's support to spend the rest of your summer with Weasley family. The fireplace of house number four on Privet Drive has been temporarily hooked up to the Floo Network to aid you in reaching the Weasley household at your leisure. Included is also some Floo powder to use in case you do not have any of your own on hand.
I look forward to seeing you again next school year-
Albus Dumbledore
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Reaching out, he brushed his fingers against the leather pouch of floo powder. The fear he had been feeling just moments before about how the Dursleys would react to the appearance of Hedwig and Pig was washed away with happiness. They couldn't hurt him any more, he was free. His eyes unfocused for a bit at the pleasantly warming thought of never having to come back to the Dursleys again. The owl seemed to sense just how much her presence was wanted and so the moment Harry removed the pouch from her leg, Hedwig took to wing and flew out of the tent, causing several women who had just managed to reach their feet to topple over again. Pig on the other had continued to sit and look around after Harry had retrieved the letter. This one was from the Weasleys and said basically the same thing as Dumbledore's as well as informing him they were so happy and they already had a room set up for him.
Harry's happy moment was ruined though as the bulky form of Uncle Vernon approached, backed by the still slightly shaking Aunt Petunia. Harry poked Pig in his feather chest, trying to get him to fly off again but only a hurt look in return. "Shoo!" he hissed between clenched teeth, very worried about what Uncle Vernon might do if he could get his hands on the actual cause of all this mess. Oh wait, Harry thought, that's me. Now wondering who had more to fear, himself or the bird, Harry prepared for the worse. And the worst was what he got.
"You... foolish... stupid... boy..." Uncle Vernon said, biting off each word with hate and twisting his face as if they tasted bad to him. His meaty hands clenched and unclenched as if he wanted to hit Harry.
"You ungrateful brat!" Aunt Petunia snapped at him, moving out from behind her husband. Now shield from view from the rest of Boxmore's Country Club by his bulk, she stepped forward and jabbed a finger in Harry's chest. "You know how long your Uncle and I have been working to get into this club! This means everything for our future! And now look what you have done!" Another jab. "Ruined it! They'll never stop talking about how owls and strange things are attracted to us! We'll be the talk of the town!" Jab. Jab. "And its all your fault! You stupid, worthless, ungrateful boy!" Fifth jab to the chest finished it off before she too fell back to shaking in rage. With her eyes all squinty like they were, her nose wrinkled, and her upper lip pulled back, Harry had never before realized how much she resembled a braying ass..
Looking down, she caught sight of Pig. "Eyyeeek!" she cried, pointing at it. Uncle Vernon, spurred on by her cry, reached out to grab Pig. Fortunately, the owl finally got it through its head that it was un-welcome and fluttered up into air. Roaring with rage, Uncle Vernon proceeded to wave his hands around in the air, trying to swat the owl down. The little ball of panicked feathers was too quick for him though and sped away in a hasty escape to the freedom of the surrounding park. This left only Harry for them to focus their rage on.
Turning back to Harry, Uncle Vernon's rage deepened his face to a never-before-seen shade of red. "We... Go.... NOW," he managed to choke out before turning on his heal and stomping off. Aunt Petunia turned as well and quickly fluttered over to a shaken looking Mrs. Williams. Harry didn't know or care what excuses she gave the woman. Numbly he shoved the two letters into his pocket along with the precious bag of floo powder. As he started towards the car the crowd of rich Club members parting before him. No one wanted to touch the strange Dursley boy who owls flew.
When he finally escaped from under the tent, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were just leaving the little boys room. Uncle Vernon wouldn't even look at him but Dudley took the time out of his day to turn and stick his tongue out at Harry. Clenching his fist in rage, Dudley mouthed silently to him 'You've done it now' before climbing into the back seat of the car. Aunt Petunia hurried past him, and quickly climbed into the passenger seat. When Harry reached the car and moved to open the door, he heard a sudden 'Whoomp' sound as Uncle Vernon pressed the automatic locking button. Dudley scooted over to the window at which Harry stood and leered at him. Neither Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon would even look at him.
Ignoring Dudley on the other side of the glass, Harry tapped on the window. "Uncle Vernon," he said, the uneasy feeling in his stomach rising to his throat. "Uncle Vernon, let me in." Mr. Dursley turned the key and the engine roared to life. Harry was beginning to get panicked. Reaching down he pulled on the handle. "Uncle Vernon, let me in! Please!" The man never even looked at him as he shifted the gears in the car. Dudley was roaring with laughter now and he could see how strained Aunt Petunia looked through the side mirror. Harry hardly had time to leap back and save his toes as the car suddenly lurched forward and tore down the gravel road.
They had left him there. Left him there in the rain in a park he had never been too before out in the countryside. Looking around and feeling rather numb, he tried to figure out what to do. Uncle Vernon had strictly forbidden Harry to take his wand with him, and he had just sent away Hedwig and Pig. But Harry was a strong boy and not one to give over to despair. Fighting down the urge to give up and cry, he started to walk down the road.
*****
His feet hurt and he was soaked to the skin. The rain had only gotten more intense the farther he had gotten from the park and now each rain-drop was marble sized. Added in the fact that the sun was sinking towards the horizon at a dangerously fast rate, he would be freezing in no time at all when the darkness came. He had managed to reach a main road about a half an hour ago with its large cars roaring by and occasionally splashing him with even more water.
The letters he had put in his pocket remained dry and un-smeared, thanks to some charm or another put on them by their sender, and he could only hope the same for the floo powder. His entire future could almost be said to be contained in that one little pouch. All he needed to do was get back to the Dursley's house and use their fireplace. That was all, that was it. And then his life would be happy and free again. Harry did not even allow himself to think what might happen if they didn't let him in the house.
Another car roared past him, sending up a rather muddy spray of water that added to his gradually browning color. Unlike the other 50 or so that had already gone by him, this one began to slow and stopped. Gulping and suddenly worried about the dangers even Muggles could be for wandless wizards, Harry approached the car with caution. It was small, painted a bright shade of blue, and to his surprise had tinted windows. He stood before one of them, shaking and shivering for a moment or two and imagining a hundred frightful things about who the possible driver could be, before it slowly lowered. The sight inside shocked him so much, he took a step backwards.
The inside of the car was a brilliant lime green. The voices of two women singing a duet and accompanied by a guitar echoed from inside, along with the faint smell of... herbs. A middle-aged woman with short black hair and a smile sat behind the wheel. Leaning over, she peered out the window and up at Harry. "Hey, kid," she said with that odd drawl that was common with Americans. Oh dear God, thought Harry, not an American. "You okay? You need a ride somewhere?" She smiled again and Harry looked down at his feet.
He had never gotten a ride from a stranger before, but then again he was never left cold and lost out along a highway side at night either. The two women on the radio rose their were singing about the environment and the government, rhyming such lines as 'destroying their natural habitat' and 'the corrupted politician who is fat'. The lady seemed harmless enough so raising his head, Harry nodded. Although it seemed impossible, she smiled even wider and unbuckled her seatbelt. Harry took a second step back but she only twisted in her seat to reach back behind her and rummage around. When she turned back around and dropped down, she placed a wooly yellow blanket on the passenger seat.
"There ya' go," she said cheerfully. "Climb on in and spread that baby out so ya' don't get mud-water all over my lovely seats." Patting the revoltingly bright green seats with a grin, she pushed the auto-unlock button. Gulping, Harry pulled open the door and hurried to set up the blanket. Just standing here with the window open had let enough water in that a small puddle was already forming in the bottom of the seat. When he finally slid into the car and onto the blanket, he winced at how quickly his muddy cloths ruined the bright yellow. The window rolled up on the door as the woman pushed a button and when he slammed it shut, the sound of pounding rain was instantly cut off. That left Harry alone in a strange car with a strange woman and only the sound of two environmentalists belting their hearts out.
Shifting into drive, the woman glanced over her shoulder before pulling back into traffic. There was an awkward pause. "So," she said in a light voice, "my name is Sasha Shoe. What's yours?" She glanced over at him and instantly Harry saw her eyes go to his forehead. The rain had managed to flatten his normally unruly hair, leaving his scar visible between his bangs. Quickly turning his head to stare out the window he muttered his name in reply.
Sasha nodded her head, either in reply or in time with the music and drove on for a bit more without saying anything for another long pause. "So, where ya' headed?" she asked eventually. Harry had never been one to travel, the Dursley's always keeping him at home under the stairs when they could.
"Privet Drive," he mumbled to the car door.
"Privet Drive? Hmm... never been there..." Harry glanced over at the woman as she chewed on her lip. "Can ya' think of anything a bit... broader perhaps?" Harry shook his head mutely. Walking along the road, he had known he was lost. His heart sank as he realized just how lost he really was.
"It has to be kind of close..." he said half-heartedly. "I was just at the Boxmore's Country Club and it is only about a half an hour away from there."
Sasha turned to him again, raising an eyebrow this time. "You mean to tell me, kid, you walked from Boxmore's to where I found ya' in the rain all by yourself?" Harry winced, not really wanting to explain why it had happened, and nodded again. Sasha whistled and shook her head. "My, what you English kids are made of. Here now, open up the glove compartment in front of ya and pull out that there map. See if you can find your Privet drive on it."
Harry did as he was instructed and was amazed at everything else Sasha had in there. When he opened the compartment, a pile of papers tumbled out onto his lap, immediately getting wet and ruined when they came in contact with his soaking cloths. He tried to apologize but she just waves a hand dismissingly. "Insurance papers, blah. Garbage all, really. See that big blue packet? That's the map." Giving up on trying to stuff as many papers as he could back into the small compartment, Harry unfolded the map and glanced at it.
After about five minutes of studying and questioning and accidentally causing water-damage to half of England's countryside when the paper drooped down to touch Harry's lap, they figured out where he lived and that it happened to be about 15 minutes in the opposite direction from where they were going. Without much pause, Sasha glanced over her shoulder and spun the wheel. The little blue car jumped in response to her command and did a complete 180 degree turn in the middle of the road with cars not too far away on either side. Harry paled and gripped the door handle next to him and he heard a loud crashing noise from whatever used to be on the back seat.
The two singers and been reduced now to one who raised her voice in protest against the industrial mills and how we all needed to save the salmon. Harry winced as she hit a particularly sour note and watched Sasha out of the corner of his eye. She hadn't said anything about his scar but he could have sworn there was a hint of recognition in her eyes when she saw it. On the other hand, what witch would drive car like this. Other then its odd colors and poor music selection, it was perfectly normal. It wasn't something you could just flat out and ask. "Yes, Mrs. Shoe? You wouldn't happen to be a witch, would you?" Harry had no desire walking the rest of the way home, now that the sun had fallen and the rain continued to poor down.
Clearing his throat, Harry turned back to watch the windshield wipers fight the rain. "Thank you, Mrs. Shoe, for going out of your way to drive me home," he offered up tentatively. He would have added more but she waved a hand again.
"Oh tut-tut. What kind of person would I be leaving a poor freezing child out there in the rain," she said. Harry bristled a bit at being called a child. He was going to be 15 soon and hardly felt he classified as a child. "Besides, I'm was only on my way to the nursery. The babies are fine and a little wait before reaching home wouldn't hurt them." She waved a hand to gesture towards the back seat and Harry paled as he remembered the crash he heard when she turned.
"You have... babies in your back seat?" He asked nervously without looking back. The possibility of seeing squished baby matter all over lime green seats held no appeal for him. As if reading his might she laughed brightly.
"A plant nursery, Harry, a plant nursery. I'm rather fond of plants and I've got a few I'm particularly fond of that I call my babies. Much better then the real thing, if you ask me. None of that silly dirty diapers or anything like that. And quiet too," She flashed a grin at him. "And no, they are in the trunk. Safely tucked into their custom made pot seat belts. I just have my dishes, and glass where on the back seat." Laughing again, she turned down a road that was beginning to look familiar to Harry.
"I just moved here, you see," she said to him. "I'm American," she added and winked. "But ya' wouldn't have guess." Harry grinned back at her exaggerated Southern American accent she added to the statement.
"Is America nice?" he asked with honest curiosity. "I've lived in England my whole life."
"Ahhh... America... If England were heaven, then America would be hell. Go to the first for the scenery and the later for the company." Harry smiled when she did at the statement although he didn't think he fully understood what she meant.
Any future chance to investigate farther the life of Sasha Shoe was lost as they neared Privet drive and Harry had to direct her through the turns. When they finally pulled up to a stop in front of house number four, Harry felt reluctant to get out of the car. True, he had the amazingly heart warming prospect of living with the Weasleys to look forward to, but the formable task of actually getting back into the house and reaching the fireplace was a daunting one.
Apparently he hesitated to long, for Sasha reached over and touched his arm lightly. "You okay, kido?" she asked, a look of worry clearly seen in her eyes. Gulping, Harry nodded and unbuckled his seat belt. He had almost forgotten it was raining but was quickly reminded the moment he stepped outside. Shivering from the sudden temperature change between Sasha's warm car and the cold of night, Harry waved goodbye and shut the door behind him. If he thought she would simply speed off, he was wrong, for she sat there and waited behind those tinted windows of hers.
Straightening his back, he marched himself to the door. To know he was so close to freedom gave him hope, yet he surprised even himself as he reached out a steady hand to ring to doorbell. There was a long pause and a hundred and one reasons why they might not be home leapt into mind. Perhaps they felt so ashamed, they had fled town? Perhaps they had gone out to eat? Perhaps they were all out shopping (never mind the fact that Aunt Petunia always did that herself)? Perhaps they- the door opened an inch.
Aunt Petunia's eye peered at him and then flicked to the bright blue car parked in front of her house. "Who is it?" Harry heard Uncle Vernon's voice from somewhere deeper in the house. The eye rolled back to focus its glare on Harry.
"Him!" Aunt Petunia hissed. The door began to close when he heard a voice behind him.
"Harry?" Sasha asked. She had rollen down the window and was leading across the passenger seat to see him. "Harry, is everything okay?" Harry turned back to Aunt Petunia's eye.
"I got a letter from them," Harry said in a quiet voice. "They said I can come live with them. All I have to do is get my stuff and use your fireplace. I'll be out of your lives forever." Sasha called his name out again and he could see the brow above Aunt Petunia's eye furrow.
The door in front of him closed. Harry felt his jaw drop and the panic rise again. They weren't going to let him in! But a soft 'clink clink' could be heard as Aunt Petunia undid the chain lock and opened the door far enough for him to squeeze through. But rather then rush inside, Harry turned and waved to the woman in the car. "Goodbye, Mrs. Shoe! Thank you!" He could see the worried look did not leave her face, but before either of them could say more, Uncle Vernon's hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him inside. His toes had barely cleared the doorway when Aunt Petunia slammed the door closed. Both of them towered over him and he gulped.
Harry gulped and waited. "You... you..." Mr. Dursley eventually managed to sputter. But his wife cut him off.
"You're filthy! Look at you! Dripping muddy water everywhere! Don't move!! Vernon, Dudley, get his stuff. I don't want him tracking mud through this house like the filthy dog he is!" The chubby boy might have complained, but his father grabbed his shoulder and dragged him upstairs. Aunt Petunia continued to glare at him as the other two members of the Dursley family dragged Harry's stuff over to the railing and dropped it. Harry winced with ever crash or crunch he heard but knew he couldn't do anything about it. When Dudley tossed his cauldron over the railing and managed to chip the hallway table, Harry grinned at the scowling Aunt Petunia.
When everything was finally piled up, Aunt Petunia went and got three garbage bags. Two were given to shove all the loose clothing into that had come directly from Harry's dressers and the third was given to Harry himself. "I don't want you dripping filth from here to the fireplace," she snapped. And so Harry hopped over to the fireplace in a garbage bag, the last of his possessions trailing behind him. Uncle Vernon pulled the grate away from the fireplace and stepped back. They were all staring at him.
Looking at the cold fireplace, Harry felt his heart sink. "I need a fire in order to leave," Harry said, staring Uncle Vernon straight in the eye. The large man simple growled and stalked into the kitchen. The sound of cupboards banging could be heard for several moments before he stalked back in. A small match box was clasped in his beefy hands. Reaching down, get snatched up a scroll. Without pausing, the man lit a match and put it to the scroll which quickly caught fire to Harry's horror. Tossing the burning paper into the cold fireplace Uncle Vernon snarled.
"Now there's your fire! Get!" Harry stared in horror at what used to be his half written assignment on the founders of Hogwarts for History class. It was burning merrily but was hardly large enough for Harry to step into. "Not big enough?" Uncle Vernon asked from behind him. Before Harry could turn around and protest, a book flew into the fire and burst into flames.
"NO!" cried Harry as he tried to reach into the now a bit larger fire to save the book. Dudley, who thought this was now hilariously funny reached into the pile of books. His joyous grin was quickly wiped away as the book he was holding bit him. Exclaiming in pain, he flung this one into the fire as well. The pain filled shrieks of Harry's old Care for Magical Creatures book echoed through the house and caused the Dursleys to draw back a step. Now with two large books and half a scroll, the fire was decent size.
"You have your fire now, boy," Uncle Vernon said with a dark look. "Go, and never come back!" Harry turned around in his plastic garbage bag to look one last time at the people who raised him but had never been his family. He searched for something to say, something biting and witty and mean but could find nothing. The shrieking of the book was the only sound in the room as Harry gathered up his stuff. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out the pouch and opened it. Taking a deep breath and a pinch of the powder, he tossed it into the fire who's flames instantly turned green. The shrieking of the book was silenced as the magic took hold.
"The Burrow!" Harry cried as he hopped into the fire and left the Dursleys for good.
