A Harry Situation
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Chapter Four: Night Owl




Harry and Petunia:

It was the kind of evening just made for sitting on the porch, sipping on a lovely beverage. Much as Petunia missed Vernon and her Duddy-kins, Petunia was glad for a little time to herself. As she mixed up a batch of lemonade, she mused over the fact that she could get far more cleaning done since cooking for one made meal time a great deal simpler.

Overhead, she heard a squawk from her nephew's dratted owl. She looked at the lemonade and made a face. The brat would probably help himself, unless she forbade him explicitly. She hadn't been cooking for the brat, of course. Why should she? He was old enough to fend for himself. She resented the idea that he might have some of the lemonade, however cheap and easy to fix it was.

She decided to pour him one glass. That would keep him from drinking the rest. He knew better by now than to try to steal food. She went up to his room to tell him to start to work on the attic, but he wasn't there. The room looked a little better, though. She frowned and wondered where he was. He wasn't in the front room, or the bathroom. She went up to the attic to find that he'd already made noticeable progress on the dust and cobwebs.

Petunia snorted. "Don't think you're coming into the kitchen when you're that dirty," she snapped.

Potter gave her a patient look. "I thought you wanted me to get started on this as soon as it was cool enough," he said.

Petunia glared at him, then something in his eyes made her back down. "I'll bring your dinner up here," she huffed. "Just don't leave crumbs all over. I don't want to attract rats." She was gratified that the brat actually shivered at that. At least he had some normal feelings.

She frowned when she got to the kitchen. What would be the quickest and easiest dinner? There really wasn't much at hand, Dudley was still on a diet. Petunia grabbed some slices of the cantaloupe that her Dinky-Dud'ums had proclaimed 'inedible' and put them on a plate. What else? Well, she hadn't liked this diet bread, no point in wasting it.

She carried the plate and the glass of lemonade upstairs, feeling she was being quite generous to the ingrate. She frowned when she didn't find him in the attic. And she placed the plate and glass on a shoddy old trunk that she didn't remember. "Potter? Where are you?"

She jumped when he answered from behind her. "Sorry, I just went to wash up." He held up his hands, as if for inspection. Petunia just glared at him. "Don't smart off to me, boy," she said, for what seemed like the thousandth time that week. She marched off with a snort to see what the neighbors were up to. A faint memory flickered across her mind. Lily had owned a spyglass that had been able to see around corners… it would have been nice to own something… she stopped that train of thought with a shudder of horror when she realized she'd almost wished for magic, of all things. How disgusting. Maybe she should add a shot of gin to her lemonade. Yes, that would make a lovely beverage.

Harry sighed, then encouraged himself with the thought that he'd be of age in two years, After that, he needn't see the Dursleys again. He made a wry face. 'Assuming I'm still alive then,' he added to himself. He wondered where he would go after Hogwarts. Maybe he could get a job in Hogsmeade, or better yet, at Hogwarts. He should apply for the DADA position. Merlin knew he'd had enough practice, and the job would almost certainly be open by then.

Of course, that would mean he'd have to work with Snape. Harry made a face. "Now there's a thought to ruin one's appetite," he muttered. Not that ruining his appetite was hard to do nowadays. He kept getting stomach aches like the summer Dobby had been stopping his mail and he'd thought that everybody had forgotten him. He squeezed his eyes shut. If only he'd taken Dobby's advice and hadn't gone back to Hogwarts, then Cedric would still be alive. Voldemort wouldn't have come back… It was all his fault…

The 'spasm', as he termed them, passed slowly. He wiped his eyes and hoped his aunt wouldn't catch him looking like this. Not that his aunt would care, or even notice, that he'd been crying. She spent most of a decade ignoring his tears. Harry bit the insides of his cheek. The Dursleys didn't want him. He knew that, there was no point in even wondering why any more. Back to reality. Just keep going on, one day at a time and hope that… that he could continue to live with what he'd done to Cedric.

At least he had appropriate food for his mood. He eyed his 'magnificent feast' wryly. The good thing about this diet food is that it looked inoffensive enough to eat. He nibbled on his fruit and fake bread as he wrote back to Ron. A couple of hours and several drafts later, he managed something that didn't sound whiney or depressed.

"Dear Ron,

Here's the letter I promised. I had to write to Ginny first because the cat was in trouble. That batty old Mrs. Figg that I told you about got a cat, but the new cat didn't get along with her other cats, so, for reasons unknown, she gave her to my Aunt Petunia. (I told you she was batty!) Anyway, Uncle Vernon and Dudley are allergic, so Petunia couldn't keep her.

When Uncle Vernon saw the cat, he almost had a fit. I thought he might actually hit my aunt or something. Fortunately (for my aunt), I opened my big mouth, so my uncle decided that it was my cat. I convinced him that the cat was actually a pixie, hence the name. Yes, I know Pixie doesn't look anything like a pixie. I may forget a lot between school terms, but Lockhart's Freshly Caught Cornish Pixies aren't something that will fade from my mind anytime soon! (Why is it I can remember all the stuff I'd rather forget, but the stuff I need for exams just fades from my mind?) Anyway, it was the first thing that came to mind and it's not like my uncle would know a pixie from Lockhart anyway.

The weird thing is, the cat carrier was a gift from my Aunt Petunia. It's the most she's spent on a present for me ever. I hope Ginny likes it. Anyway, tell her that I said 'Hi' and that the cat carrier is hers to keep. (I don't need it, I don't have a cat.)

I'm sorry that you and Hermione have had a falling out. She didn't sound mad at you in her last letter to me, just frustrated. We both know she likes you, right? So, here's a few suggestions…

One: stop carping about Viktor Krum.

Two: stop complaining about Hermione's upcoming trip to Bulgaria. She's not going to marry him, for God's sake. Besides, she'll have her parents along as chaperones. And, from what she said in her last letter to me, Viktor's whole family will be there, too. Apparently, the whole courting…"

Harry paused, and decided not to go there, then he rubbed that out with the eraser Hermione had owled him. He made a mental note to buy her a stack of replacements when he got to Diagon Alley.

"All boy/girl interactions are as carefully monitored as Snape's Dragon Decongestant Potion," he wrote instead. "Three: shut UP about Viktor Krum already. We get the point! You don't like the idea of Viktor courting Hermione. Repeating yourself won't convince her. All it will do is to get her too mad to speak to you.

Four: TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT HER! That will at least get her mind off Viktor Krum. Remember, you'll be at Hogwarts with her for ten months. Viktor will only have ten days to make his case. You have the home advantage, USE IT!!"

Harry sighed. What else could he say to help? He wished he could talk to them. At the very least, he could mediate. A sudden thought struck him and he added: "Five: ask Ginny for help, she's as clever as Hermione and could probably give you some tips on how to get Hermione talking to you again."

"Good luck, 'Romeo',

Harry."

"PS -- ENOUGH ABOUT VIKTOR KRUM ALREADY!!!"

Harry grinned for the first time in days. He could just picture Ron's red face when he read that sign off! He paused, wondering if Ron had ever heard of Romeo and Juliet. He added quotes around the name 'Romeo' to show that, yes, he did remember what Ron's name was. Even if Ron didn't get the reference, it would confuse and annoy him. Feeling somewhat more like himself, Harry tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and sent her off.

A second later, he lunged toward the window and whistled Hedwig back. The snowy owl flapped back into the window, looking put out.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I just thought of something." Carefully, he unfastened the letter from Hedwig's leg and added. "PS -- Romeo, that's a muggle reference. Ask Hermione if you don't know it." He grinned. Then he added his real after thought. "P.P.S. -- It's a shame, no a CRIME, to leave my Firebolt in the cupboard all summer. Even if I can't come over, there's no reason I can't send it over for you to practice on, if you want to borrow it. You can use it for the Quidditch tryouts, too, unless Hooch objects." -- H.

He retied the letter. "There, that'll make him feel better."

Hedwig didn't move.

"Go on, then," Harry urged her.

Hedwig gave him a severe look.

"Honest! I'm finished!"

Hedwig made a grumpy sound, turned abruptly and soared out the window.

Harry watched her leave and sighed. "I have such a way with the ladies," he murmured.


Ginny Tables Her Thoughts:

"Mum, what should I say to Harry?" she asked, sitting at the table and kicking her legs. She fidgeted with the stacks of travel brochures that her Dad had brought home from work. She loved to travel and was a little envious of Hermione's trip to Bulgaria. She wondered if Bulgaria was anything like Romania.

"The best way to deal with a relationship is to just be honest. The poor lamb needs somebody he can confide in, and I don't see why it can't be you." With that, she bustled into the next room to work on some charms.

Ginny frowned at the unhelpful advice. "Okay, honest, like 'Dear Harry, thanks for the cat. I love her and I love you, too. Let's get married.'" She had to laugh at that. 'Oh, way to convince the world you're over your silly schoolgirl crush on the Boy Who Lived,' she told herself. She sighed. 'Well, it's a crush, everybody knows that. And, guess what, I am a schoolgirl. Guess the only aspect I have any control over is the silly part… at least, I hope I have control over that. I wonder if I could have an intelligent and sophisticated crush on Harry?'

She tried again. "Dear Harry", (true, but standard enough to be safe). "Thank you…" (Very much? So much? Better not gush. Leave it at thank you.) "…for the cat. Pixie is adorable." (Would you be embarrassed if I said you were, too? Probably, I think only Mum can get away with that.) "I can't wait until Dumbledore decides it's safe enough for you to visit us." (Is that too eager? Well, I guess it's safe enough, since we ALL feel that way… ooo, include that!) "I assure you that sentiment is shared by my whole family, and not just Ron. All of us who live here at the Burrow have written to Dumbledore to urge him to reconsider leaving you at the Muggles' mercy." (If they even know what mercy is… not all Muggles, mind, just the Dursley Muggles.) "Assuming the Dursley Muggles even know what 'mercy' is."

"However, I'm particularly eager" (To gape at you… drooooooool!) "for you to see how happy Pixie is in her new home. She fits in…" (Actually, she doesn't. She hasn't participated in a single argument since she's arrived.) "… so well here. Mum and I have been cleaning out the attic and she's been having a grand time batting at dust motes and chasing dust bunnies around. Right now she's sitting in the kitchen window watching Ron in the garden as he supposedly goes about his chores and works on his summer essays." (I'm not holding my breath, though, he's probably daydreaming about Hermione. Oh, wait, that's good. Maybe it will amuse him. Put it in.)

"I'm not holding my breath, though. My money says he's probably daydreaming about Hermione and doing as little actual work as possible." (Unlike me, who can daydream and work at the same time. Ha!) "They seem to have had yet another falling out. I hope they patch it up soon, poor Ron looks miserable." (Where did that come from? Well, it is true. I do feel sorry for Ron. The twins are being prats, though. I almost hope Mum hexes them or something.)

She sighed. She was running out of things to say. Maybe she should keep the first letter short. She wondered if Harry would keep her letter the way she was planning to keep his? Probably not. Assuming of course, he even wrote back. Ginny slid off her chair and went into the living room, where Molly was working on something inside the fireplace.

"Mum? What are you doing?" she asked.

Molly started. "Oh, Ginny-dear, I'm just making sure that all the floo-network charms are in place," she said.

Ginny's eyes went a little wide. Molly sighed and made a slight moue. "Yes, your father bought an upgrade on the security spells. We decided… well, never mind. You know what's at stake. What did you need?"

Ginny stared at the chimney for a few long heartbeats, then shook herself. "How do I get Harry to write back to me?" she asked.

Molly relaxed and smiled. It was nice to see that life was continuing, even under the current dark cloud. "I've always found the best way to get a return letter is to ask a question or two. Something only your correspondent can answer."

"Thanks, Mum," Ginny said gratefully. "Can I have a snack?"

"Yes, dear, but not too much. I'm making meat pies for dinner… oh, there's an idea. You can send Harry a meat pie with your letter. I'm sure those Muggles aren't feeding him right. The poor lamb is always skin and bones when we see him in September."

"What kind of question?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"Something about homework? One of the first hints I got that your father was interested in me is when he started asking me to help him with his homework."

"I think that might be too obvious," Ginny replied. Seeing her mother's skeptical look, she elaborated. "I usually ask Hermione. Harry will probably figure out that I'm still crushing on him if I suddenly start asking him for help."

"Ah, you think he has figured out that you have a crush on him, then?" Molly asked, suppressing a smile.

Ginny gave her Mum a severe look. "Mum, even Professor Binns knows that I have a crush on Harry. The only way Harry could not know is if someone oblivated him." Ginny paused to think a second, then she added. "Or if he didn't duck a bludger quick enough."

Molly had to choke back a laugh.

"MUM!"

"I'm sorry, Ginny, maybe a Quidditch question? That was good with most boys I talked to."

"Thanks, Mum," this was accompanied by a quick hug and kiss. Ginny bounced back into the kitchen, trying to think of a question. She poured herself a bowl of Qwidditch Qwunchies (now with honey-marshmallow Snitches!) as she pondered her magnum opus. She was distracted, though. Qwidditch Qwunchies always made her think of the twins… they were the ones who had introduced her to them. When Fred and George had heard about milk baths, they decided to take the next logical step, and who better to give a Qwidditch Qwunchie bath to than their baby sister?

She remembered loving it and Mum had taken a picture of it, when she could stop laughing. Ginny sniffled a little. It had been a long time since the twins had made their Mum laugh. She didn't suppose there was any point in asking for Harry about that. "Dear Harry, Mum and Dad are going nutters. Fred and George have come into money and Mum and Dad are scared that they've taken up with shady characters to get it. Could you please tell us where the money came from?"

Stupid, like Harry would… know…? Ginny stared at her cereal, heedless of the escaping honey-marshmallow snitches.

"Think about this logically for a minute, Weasley," she told herself. "How many people do we know have lots of money and actually like the twins enough to give them a sackful of gold?" It almost sounded logical, but not quite. "Would he give them the money to start a store and not tell the rest of us? He'd at least have told Ron, wouldn't he?" Ginny watched Pixie chase the errant honey-marshmallow snitches around as she pondered.


Hermione: Scents and Sensibility:

Rupert Granger knocked lightly on his daughter's door, then assumed the absent-minded grunt was an invitation and entered.

He found his daughter resting her chin on her hands and glaring at a set of test tubes, not really something he expected a witch to work with. "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble? Bunsen burn and test tubes bubble?" he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, Dad, MacBeth is a Muggle work. Professor Snape would have us gutting sea slugs or something if we quoted 'The Scottish Play' at him."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because poor Lavender made that mistake once. It's the only detention the poor girl has received during her whole stay at Hogwarts. She's mortified about it, too."

"Why mortified? Is she ashamed that she's lagging so far behind everybody in getting detentions?"

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "She's mortified that Snape understood the reference. She had no idea that Shakespeare was so big in the Wizarding world."

"I didn't realize it either," Rupert said.

"Apparently he lived in a time when the two worlds weren't so far apart."

"That would explain a lot about his play," Rupert said thoughtfully. He didn't want to think about it too much, he had his reputation to maintain. He looked around for something to tease his daughter about. "So, what potion are you working on?"

"It's not a potion, I'm not allowed to do magic outside Hogwarts," Hermione said, scowling at a sheet of paper in front of her.

"I wasn't sure if potions counted as magic," Rupert confessed.

"They do, at least, they are included in the list of things we ought not to do," Hermione said.

"So this is chemistry, then?" Rupert prodded.

"Well, actually, sort of," Hermione answered with uncharacteristic vagueness.

Rupert raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure how scientific aromatherapy is," she explained.

"Aromatherapy? That's not magic?" Rupert teased.

Hermione shot him an annoyed look. "Dad, if you're not going to be helpful, then just leave, okay?"

Rupert sighed. "You sound more like your mother every day."

"Thank you," Hermione said absently. Then she sighed. "There are too many to choose from!" she said in exasperation. "There are scents to deal with anger, anxiety, depression, nervous tension, nervous exhaustion and insomnia. If I try to use to many, I'll just create a mess!"

Rupert felt a little alarmed. "Are you feeling that badly?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, sending her fluffy brown hair flying in all directions. "No, it's not for me, it's for Harry!"

But of course, wasn't everything for Harry? "You know, dear, if you start scent marking your letters, he's bound to get suspicious," Rupert cut his teasing short when his level-headed, calm, rational daughter burst into tears. Immediately, he sprang into 'awkward male confronted by female tears' mode. He put his arms around his daughter and began petting her, using the standard, useless phrases. "There, there, easy old girl, take it easy."

Hermione pulled away. "But it isn't! It's never easy for poor Harry. Awful things keep happening to him. I want to help, but I can't even talk to him!" she sniffed and took the handkerchief that he offered. "Dad, I'm scared! I'm scared something horrible is going to happen to him… or to you and Mum." She was crying in earnest now, fat tears rolling down her red cheeks. "I don't want y… you or Mum to get killed! I don't want Harry to g…get killed, either!"

Rupert didn't know what to do except pull his daughter into his arms and hold her. He hadn't really thought about the Wizarding war threatening his family. He knew that Hermione had been in danger. He didn't like it. He didn't like his wife being in danger. And, if you get right down to brass tacks, he didn't much like being in danger himself. "Hermione, I don't like this situation, either. I would like to talk to this Dumbledore of yours about it. So, how do we set up a conference?"

Hermione, presented with a problem to solve, calmed down to her analytical self. much to her father's relief. "I can owl Dumbledore and tell him you want to talk to him," she said.

"Good girl," Rupert said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "I'll tell your Mum to expect company."

Hermione blew her nose. "I'll get right on it," she said. Primly, she deposited the soiled handkerchief in the laundry basket before sitting down to write to Dumbledore.


Harry and his Homework

'Well, now I know who Blodwen was,' he thought as he took notes for his History of Magic essay. 'Not any happier for knowing it, though. Witch-mom curses her Wizard-son so he can't get married to a woman from any race alive, so his Wizard -mentor creates a woman from flowers. Blodwen (meaning flower face) falls in love with another man, betrays Wizard-son and almost kills him. As punishment, she gets turned into an owl. Lovely. Pity the Wizard-mentor didn't give Blodwen a choice when it came to getting married. I wonder if all history is just people hurting each other.'

He made a face. "I sound like Hermione!" he said aloud to his reflection in the mirror over Dudley's extra dresser. His reflection made no response. Harry sighed. He guessed he was supposed to side with Blodwen's husband, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for the girl. Blodwen reminded him of himself. She had no real parents. She never had anybody to look after her, or to take her side when things went wrong. She was never given any choice in her life. Harry couldn't blame her for trying to get away from an intolerable situation.

"I definitely sound like Hermione," he told Hedwig's empty cage. "At least being turned into an owl isn't all bad. She was probably happier as an owl than a prisoner." He walked over to slide the window open and thought that life would be much simpler as an owl.

Something hurtled through the window. Before Harry could register the assault, much less react to it, he was struck between the eyes. Then he wasn't registering or reacting to anything.


************
Author's Notes –

Blodwen is from Welsh mythology. She was created by Gwydion and Math for Llew Llaw Gyffes.

Katrina – Yep, Emma and Rupert. J.K.'s never said what Hermione's parents' names are, so I decided on the names of two of my favorite British actors. ;-) Thanks for the kind words on the banter between Hermione and her father.

shdurrani – Thanks, I plan to continue!

Nightw2 – Glad you like my writing. Hope you get a chance to get out more!

Ian – Thanks! I'm going to try to be fast with the updates!

Fancy -- Thanks! Glad you like my story! I think that Hermione's parents have to be pretty nice. They let her stay at Hogwarts when Sirius Black was on the loose. They let her stay with the Weasleys. I hope J.K. shows more of them. (Of course, I'll have to update my stories if she ever says what their names are!)

MoNmOn – Thanks! I'll try to be quick with the updates!

coolone007 – Thanks for the review! Good point. I expect that my stuff will all be Alternate Universe.

Ozma – Thanks for reviewing, partner! (I think I owe you a review. I'll be over shortly.) ** Ginny's an intelligent girl. She realizes how her crush looks to others, yet she can't (maybe won't) give it up. ** I like Molly, too. She's always seemed sympathetic to me. However, I think the twins got their sneakiness from somewhere. ** Glad you like my portrayal of Mr. Granger.

Pseudonym Sylphmuse – Thanks for the compliments! Your stories are cute! I am looking forward to finding out which Weasley is addicted to strawberries, like I am. (I hope it's Ginny.) I am also looking forward to finding out which fruit Percy is addicted to. ** Maybe I should have Hermione write that essay. It could prove amusing. ** I was thinking of Draconian in the sense of 'Draconian laws', which are very severe and usually not at all fair.

Chary – Thanks for the review! ** I was trying to think of why the Ministry wouldn't notice that Arthur's kids played Quidditch. But a lot of Wizarding children seem to spend a lot of time flying, so I figure that the Ministry isn't always as quick to jump on underage magic as they were in Chamber of Secrets. ** You don't have cockroaches in England? Pack my bags, honey, I'm moving! Beetles just don't have the same disgust factor as cockroaches have. I think I'll change that with the next update. What do you suggest I use instead of cockroaches. (Or should I make up something?) ** Thanks for the kind comments on Molly and Arthur's romance. I figure that there had to be some competition for both of them, but they're too perfect together for anybody else to have much of a chance. ** Glad you liked my version of Rupert. I just gave him some of my own curiosity. I know that if I had a child going to Hogwarts, I'd been quizzing them about their magical lifestyle all the time.

random letters – Thanks! I'm going to try to keep going strongly! And yes, it will continue to be Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny. Maybe a few less known ships, too. (Who knows who will get together? Only Rowling does, all I can do is guess!)

Doom Song – Thanks for the compliments! ** I wrote something about dust bunnies, then I realized that in a Wizarding household, these might be actual bunnies made of dust! I rather liked that mental image, so I ran with it.