Harry Potter and the Cursed Chalice

by Vikki

Disclaimer:  JKR owns these characters.  I am using them for nonprofit fun and blatant self-promotion.

Flame Policy:  I don't like flames.  I will feed them to my fire-breathing dragon, along with the flamer's head.  'kay?  ^^x

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Chapter 2:  The Letter from Sirius

Two weeks after sending a letter to Sirius begging salvation from his uncle, Harry despaired of ever seeing Hedwig again.  Never before had his snowy owl taken so long to deliver a letter, even when his godfather had been in far-off lands such as Africa.  His worry was actually less for himself and more for Sirius and Hedwig – what if Sirius had been caught?  Had Hedwig been hit by a plane?  The list of possible mishaps got longer and longer in his mind until Harry was nearly mad with worry.

Things at the Dursleys were not looking up; in fact, they were worse.  Uncle Vernon snapped at everyone and everything; not even Dudley dared to talk back as his father's rage seemed to constantly boil just below the surface.  Harry quickly learned that silence was by far the best policy.  While Uncle Vernon would bellow at anyone who spoke to him, he took particular offense with Harry (not that this surprised him) and would fly into a rage if Harry spoke at all, to anyone.

This would have been okay if it was the worst part, as Harry was not particularly inclined to speak to any of the Dursleys if he could help it.  He hated them just as much as they hated him.  However, Uncle Vernon's rages (in which his face turned interesting purple shades and spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted) were often followed by fists.  Harry, to his credit, was mostly very good at dodging.  Things only got messy when Uncle Vernon managed to get a hold of Harry; otherwise Harry tore out the front door or up to his room until Uncle Vernon cooled down.  Even so, Harry now sported duct-taped glasses for the first time in four years, bruised upper arms and torso, and a black eye.

The unfortunate side effect to Uncle Vernon's sudden boldness and cruelty was that Dudley was encouraged to take to abusing Harry much the way he had before Harry had begun to attend Hogwarts.  Harry may have been a wizard, who could easily make Dudley's life miserable, but he was forbidden to do magic during the summer holidays, and as long as Harry was not in mortal danger he did not think that he could justify using magic on the Dursley's, no matter how horrible they were.  Also, he was still smaller and far thinner than Dudley (the latter was a huge relief), so Harry didn't stand a chance in a physical struggle.  Instead he had fallen to the old pre-Hogwarts game – running, and hiding.

To avoid further injury, Harry spent most of the evening hours when Uncle Vernon was home away from the Dursley house, wandering back and forth down Privet Drive with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the sky, always half-hoping to glimpse Hedwig with a letter attached to her leg swooping towards him.  Neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon made any comment on his sudden penchant for evening walks or on his absences at the dinner table – a result of Harry's decision that risking Uncle Vernon's wrath was not worth the sparse meals he was offered.  Harry almost doubted that they noticed.

Another reason Harry took the walks was to keep from blowing up at his relatives and accidentally using magic against them.  He really couldn't afford to be expelled from Hogwarts now – not when it would mean he would be stuck with a particularly abusive Uncle Vernon forever.

It was three weeks after Harry's return to the Dursley's house that Harry, stomach growling at the lack of sustenance and smarting from a well-aimed kick Dudley had thrown at his calf, heard a furious tapping at his window in the middle of the night.  Jumping up from his bed, he stared at the window.

"Hedwig!"

Harry wasted no time opening the window to admit his snowy owl, which immediately settled on the end of his bed and preened while Harry hastily pushed her bowl of water to her and stared at the letter she had dropped in his hands.  It was definitely Sirius' handwriting, he saw with relief.  He tore it open and read.

Harry,

First off, I apologize that I took so long to reply to your letter.  I received it only last week, and I would have written straight away if I did not feel that I had a reason to hesitate.

I'm so sorry Harry, but I cannot rescue you from your relatives for two reasons.  The first is that I am still on the run from the dementors, and if I took you from your relatives and was caught, and you were caught with me, there is no way I could guarantee your safety. The second is that I currently have no way to return to England.  Yes, I am out of the country, but I'm afraid that's all I can tell you.

The reason for my delay in reply was that I used Hedwig to send a letter relaying your request to Dumbledore in hopes that he might save you from your plight.  (I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your owl.)  He wrote back to tell me that he was aware of the situation and on top of it.  I certainly hope he knows what he's doing.

Bear it the best you can, Harry, and stay out of your uncle's path as often as possible.  Remember that Voldemort is far worse than your relatives, no matter how you may be tempted to leave them. I expect that Dumbledore wish you to stay with them because he is weighing between greater and lesser evils, and perhaps there is some protection in your blood relations that you and I know nothing about.  (What a shame.)  He would never leave you with them without a reason.

Write as soon as you can to keep me updated.  If you think your life is at stake, don't hesitate to use magic.  Emergency situations are the exception to the Underage Magic law.

Sirius

Harry was relieved to know that his godfather was safe and apparently out of reach of the dementors for the moment, but at the same time he was deeply disappointed that a rescue from the Dursleys was out of the question.  He sighed and folded up the letter, then lifted the loose floorboard in his room and slipped it into his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which was hidden along with his textbooks under the floor so he could do his schoolwork without the Dursleys finding out.  Currently, though, Harry was too apprehensive that Uncle Vernon might catch him working and take away his textbooks for good to dare do homework.

Replacing the floorboard, Harry stood and padded over to the one mirror in the room, which had a spider-web crack in its corner from when Dudley had crashed a model plane into it.  The semi-splintered image that stared back at him was pale and thin, still a little short for his age.  There were dark circles of exhaustion under both his bright green eyes, and a slowly fading ring of bruising around one of them.  Shoving up the sleeve of his oversized t-shirt (it had once been Dudley's, like all of the Muggle clothing Harry owned), he examined the ring of dark bruising on his upper arm that marked where Uncle Vernon had grabbed him repeatedly.  It was not fading, unlike his black eye.  Harry sighed again and turned away, flopping into his bed.  Hedwig made a startled noise – she had still been perched on the end of the bed – then fluttered back into her cage haughtily and nestled her head to engage in a well-deserved nap.

According to Dudley's old broken alarm clock, it was 2:30 AM.  Harry was vaguely surprised, but it was hard to sleep on an empty stomach.  In addition he could feel an oppressive sense of depression falling on him like a smothering blanket: summer vacation was far from over, and even Dumbledore himself refused to let Harry out of this miserable place.  On the other hand, Sirius was probably worrying about Harry now – once he had put himself in severe danger simply because Harry's scar hurt.  Since Sirius couldn't do anything, he didn't want his godfather to fret over him.

After tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, Harry finally gave up on getting any sleep and pulled out his quill, an ink well, and a fresh piece of parchment.  He deliberated for a while on who to write to, and decided that the best person to send a message to would still be Sirius, even if he couldn't help.  Ron would eventually send a letter on his own if Harry failed to write; on the other hand, it sounded like Sirius didn't have access to owls.  Dipping his quill into the ink, he began to write.

Sirius,

It's such good news that you're okay.  I was pretty worried when Hedwig took so long to return, but don't feel bad.  You had a good reason to detain her.

Uncle Vernon is about the same, and Dudley's joined in a bit now.  However, Dudley's a little too slow-witted to be of any concern, and I can avoid Uncle Vernon.  Please don't worry, as I'm fine.  I think perhaps I reacted too quickly before.  I'm sorry that I've concerned you.

I expect that you're right about Dumbledore, and I'd rather face Uncle Vernon at his worst than Voldemort any day.  Again, I'll be fine.

Stay safe.

Harry

Harry folded the parchment, addressed it to Sirius, and slid it under his floorboards to wait until the morning.  Hedwig had earned her rest, after all, and Harry was finally feeling tired enough to catch a few hours of sleep before his 6:30 AM wake-up call.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

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Author's Notes:  This chapter is mundane.  I'll be shocked if anyone bothers to slog through it.  I swear, however, that the third chapter will have loads of action in it.

Stay tuned for chapter 3:  When Muggles Go Bad, in which Harry ponders Dumbledore's decision, Vernon blows sky-high, and Harry has a very explosive birthday!