Harry's
Neighbor-Part 1
Harry drew the
shade down with a sharp *snap*. That
little Muggle kid had been spying on him again. He had to be more careful when he got his Firebolt out. Flying in the Muggle world was technically
magic, but how was he expected to keep his Quidditch skills up if he was locked
in this cell day and night? *Not that
it matters anymore, really,* he thought bitterly. *The ministry doesn't have time for trifles like misused magic,
now that the war has started all because of me.* But still, he didn't want to be expelled before the new school
year even began. Harry sighed. "Well, Hedwig," he spoke to the owl. "I guess the window's not going up again for
a few days." He put the Firebolt back
under the loose floorboards and grabbed a quill and some parchment. He decided to start on his Charms homework
while he was bored enough to concentrate on it, and to keep the harrowing
images of last school year out of his mind.
Dreams, day and night, had been visiting him on a regular basis
now. Cedric's death and Voldemort's resurrection
played themselves over and over in his head.
Most of Harry's holiday homework had been completed the first week, and
now he found himself re-reading his textbooks from the first year and up (saving
Lockhart's books for a desperate last resort) just to take his mind off the
pain.
Signs of
war had been popping up everywhere in the wizarding world; the Dark Mark was seen
more and more often. Harry frantically
gathered news from the Weasely family, the only people he could trust for the
truth. For a time, he had found himself
buying up the Daily Prophet and ingesting the news as fast as possible,
until he found Rita Skeeter's name under most of the articles. He felt he couldn't trust anything in there
anymore. News from his godfather had
been harder to come by. Every now and
then, he received a letter from Sirius, but it was always from a strange bird,
and seldom containing more news than the fact that he was alive and safe. For right now, Harry found he could live
with this. He still lived in hope that,
after all this was over, he would live with his godfather the way he really
wanted: open, free, and without the
hatred and mistrust of the rest of the wizarding world. Until then, he was stuck with the Dursleys
and the nightmares that might forever plague him.
Harry had
barely touched quill to paper when he heard the familiar tap and flutter of an
owl outside his window. He quickly
opened it, let the bird in and shut it again, checking quickly to make sure the
kid wasn't still watching him. Then he
turned to the owl. It was very large,
brown, and held a letter in its beak.
Harry relieved it of its burden then guided it to Hedwig's cage where it
could find water and rest.
Harry then
turned to the letter. He had originally
hoped it was a reply to the letter he had written Sirius the previous week, but
the familiar parchment with its emerald green ink and his address made him
realize that it was just the usual letter and booklist from school. This seemed a little odd, though, especially
since the letter usually came on his birthday, which was more than three weeks
in the future. Harry tore the envelope
open, only glancing at the letter of welcome and well wishes, as it was the
same one from last year. He read
through his book list, which he wasn't quite happy with, as the advanced titles
only further reminded him of the impending O.W.L.S. and studying to come. It was then that he noticed a third sheet of
paper. His eyes widened as they met the
same loopy handwriting that had accompanied his invisibility cloak in his first
year. It was a personal letter from
Dumbledore.
************************************************************************
Tem read
through the letter for what had to be the fifth time before calling to his mum,
who had gone into the kitchen. His mind
raced with a hundred questions and uncertainties. Him? A wizard?? This couldn't be right. It had to be a mistake. Or a joke.
That was it. Dudley had sent him
this letter as a practical joke. But he
wasn't smart enough to compose a letter this well thought-out. It contained words much too big for him,
such as "It" and "The".
. Tem, not knowing what to make of it, mutely
handed his mother the letter when she walked in. There was silence as she scanned the letter once, and then, more
carefully this time, reading it over again.
"I don't believe it," she whispered.
"I didn't think that there was a history of magic in any of our family!" She had Tem's attention now. "Honey, I'm so very proud of you! This is a very difficult school to get into!" She hugged Tem, her eyes shining with yet
unshed tears.
"I-I don't
understand," he said, finally. "I mean,
this is a joke, right? Magic doesn't
really exist, does it?" His mother shook
her head, and sat down next to him, primly crossing her legs and staring down
at her hands, which were clasped fervently in her lap.
"Let me
tell you a story," she said, looking up at him. "There once was a time when I was little; about your age, I
guess. I had a friend, my very best
friend in the whole world, named Becca.
Well, her full name was Rebecca Susan Bones, but we always called her
Becca; mostly because she hated it so much.
We grew up together in the same town, and were best friends
forever. We were due to start the sixth
grade together and St. Catherine's, and had even gotten the same class again,
when her parents sent her to this mysterious boarding school that nobody would
ever talk about. She appeared for
Christmas and summer holidays, and we would bond like we always had before, but
whenever I tried to talk to her about her school, she would change the
subject.
"Then, one day when we were
fourteen, I walked into her kitchen while she was drinking tea and startled
her. She dropped the teacup and it
shattered into a million pieces on the floor.
She cried and cried because they were her mother's very favorite cups
and she would kill her if she found out.
Finally, when Becca thought I wasn't looking, she reached into her
pocket and pulled out a long piece of wood, and with a single word, reassembled
the teacup. Of course, I immediately
confronted her with it, and she told me all about where she was going to
school: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry. I had thousands of
questions, and she had all the answers, and seemed very grateful to be able to
finally tell somebody.
"She told me all about life as a
witch, and of the Great War that was going on in her world. An evil wizard had gained lots of power and
followers. He was so terrifying that few
dared even to utter his name. They just
called him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Becca grew up among all of this, and we stayed close friends,
even when she graduated Hogwarts, became a noted Aurress (a magical
law-enforcer. She fought in the war),
and had her first child, Susan. The
year after Susan was born, the evil wizard was somehow defeated, and we were
relieved that the war was over so that she would be safe. That was not to be." His mother broke off for a second, shaking
her head sadly. "During the rebuilding
period, when many of the Death Eaters (You-Know-Who's followers) were being
rounded up for trial and prison, there was an uprising of his followers, and several
aurors were killed. Becca was one of them." She sniffed. "I loved her and miss her very much." She wiped her eyes and looked strong again. "But that is off my main subject. Yes, magic is real. Yes, this letter is real. And yes, I will be telling Stonewell High
that you will not be attending this year.
Here," she pushed the first letter, what looked like a list, and another
letter into his hands. "These will tell
you what you need to know, I believe.
Excuse me. I need to go freshen
up a bit."
Tem's mother left without seeing
his reaction, without hearing what he had to say, and without caring whether or
not he noticed her crying. He felt
numb. There was no other way to
describe it. All of the confusion, the
emotion of his mother's story, the sudden and drastic change that had just
taken place in his life, welled up inside of him, and instead of bursting out,
it hid itself until there was almost nothing but a gaping void left to fill. Instead of trying to fill it, he looked at
the second letter. Maybe that would
help him gain some perspective. It was
written in green ink also, with large, loopy, scrawling letters. He read:
Dear
Mr. Templeton Patterson,
I would like
to welcome you myself to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you come from a family of Muggles (what
we call non-magical people), I realize that it will be hard to adjust to the
magical lifestyle. You have the great privilege
of living next door to one of our fifth-year students, Harry Potter. Not only is Harry one of our top students,
but also one of the most naturally gifted that I have ever had the pleasure of
meeting. But I ramble. I have asked Harry to help you adjust to the
wizarding world. He should contact you,
if not tonight, then within the next couple of days. I warn you NOT to try to contact him, as those Muggles he lives
with are very adamantly positioned against magic. I wish you good luck, and look forward to meeting you when the
term starts.
Sincerely
Yours,
Professor
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
Everything
in Tem's head was spinning. It all made
sense, but it didn't…his mom, her friend, the broomstick, the boy next door,
the owls. But how could it all be
real? It didn't seem possible. His mom called for dinner, still sniffling,
but Tem went upstairs, claiming he wasn't hungry. Every now and then, he peeped curiously through his blinds to the
window across from his, but Harry's shades remained closed. Tem wondered once again what the kid next
door, who now had a name, was doing at that moment.
***********************************************************************************************
"HE WANTS
ME TO WHAT?!?" Harry's shrill yelp rang
through the halls of the Dursleys' house.
"Pipe down
up there!" called Uncle Vernon from down the stairs. He tossed another "Or else" over his shoulder for good measure.
"Sorry,"
replied Harry, who was absently staring out the window.
