Disclaimer: Two reasons I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated with it-1) Do I really look all that much like JK Rowling? 2) Would I really be writing fanfiction if I owned the original story?
And...I couldn't make a profit off of any of my fanfiction stories, even if I wanted to!
Chapter Six: Of More Unwelcome News and Unpolished Plans
Hedwig returned to Privet Drive right after the Dursleys started eating dinner. During the meal, Harry knew that he had to eat something, but he wasn't hungry. He was too nervous about what he was going to do tonight. Picking at his food, he sat in silence while Uncle Vernon talked about how he fired two of his employees.
"...and then I just fired them, just like that!" He finished, and sighing contently, he sat up a little straighter in his seat, popping a boiled potato in his mouth. "I love being in charge." Aunt Petunia smiled at him.
I bet you do, Harry thought wryly, but he didn't say anything. He knew better then to say something bad about Uncle Vernon, especially when it concerned his job, which Harry sometimes thought he loved more then Aunt Petunia and Dudley.
Lost in his jumbled thoughts, Harry was unaware when both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia started to stare at him.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon barked. Harry looked up in surprise. "Why aren't you eating?"
Wondering why on Earth Uncle Vernon cared, Harry said sarcastically, "One usually does not eat when one is not hungry."
"Well, then," Uncle Vernon sneered. "If you're not hungry then you will give your food to Dudley." Harry obliged without comment. Uncle Vernon stared at him. He seemed to be trying to think of a good insult.
"What, your weirdo friends haven't written to you this summer? You haven't heard from your precious godfather?" Uncle Vernon said sarcastically.
Harry's blood boiled. He really wasn't in a good enough mood to take Uncle Vernon's remarks lying down. He felt confused-part of his mind was worrying about Hermione and what they were going to do-not to mention worrying about Sirius's safety, and the other part was beginning to get very angry with Uncle Vernon.
"As a matter of fact," Harry replied coolly. "I just got a letter from Sirius, and he wants to know how you're treating me. What should I tell him?"
Harry basked in the look of utter horror and the beginnings of fear on his uncle's face. Harry knew that the Dursleys didn't want to treat him as good as they could be treating him, and they also knew what Sirius was capable of if Harry did indeed tell him how they were treating him.
"Tell him," squeaked Aunt Petunia, who had been listening to the conversation. "Tell him that were treating you just fine. And," she glared at her husband. "That absolutely no negative words were said about your...er...unique way of living."
Harry snorted into his plate of food, and watched as Aunt Petunia gave Dudley a nervous side glance. Every time the Dursley family has come in contact with wizards, it had rebounded on Dudley: The first time, Harry's cousin had gotten a pig's tail. The second time, he had come out of the experience with a tongue that could be measured in feet.
For the rest of the meal, nothing more involving Harry was said.
After dinner, Harry sat in the living room, fiddling with the frayed hem of Dudley's old shirt that he was wearing, as Dudley ate a bag of potato chips and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon watched the news on T.V. Soon enough, Harry found himself gazing out of the window, thinking of nothing in particular, when the words of one of the newscasters jerked him out of his trance like state and caught him completely by surprise.
"Yeah, Dave, weird things are definitely happening all across the country. First those explosions in Southampton, and now outside of Liverpool-"
Liverpool? Harry stared at the television at this startling bit of news. Explosions outside of Liverpool?
"-except that this explosion was massive, incredible, instead of just a series of small explosions in Southampton."
"Yes," Dave the newscaster agreed. "And this time, it was very lucky that the explosion was out in the countryside, where it wasn't incredibly populated, but still, twelve people were killed. This is horrible..."
Suddenly, Aunt Petunia reached over and turned off the T.V., probably to keep Dudley from hearing about what was happening. Dudley, however, wasn't paying any attention-he was busying himself with picking the crums off the bottom of the potato chip bag-but Harry knew better than to turn the T.V. back on. He felt slightly sick. Twelve people? Twelve people? It seemed like Voldemort was making attacks all over Britain, and the Muggles have no idea what was going on, and more people were dying...
Harry realized that without knowing it he was giving a description of Voldemort's reign of power, quite like the description Sirius had given him back at the cave in Hogsmeade, when he had described Voldemort's power thirteen years before. This is what it must have been like...Harry thought. This was what Sirius was talking about...
Harry felt yet another surge of anger toward Cornelius Fudge. He's still in denial...he won't admit this is Voldemort, it's all up to other Ministry members and Dumbledore now...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For a long time he had watched the news report, Harry sat up in his room, watching Hedwig flutter around in her cage, hooting softly. He tried to focus on what he was going to do tonight, and not what he had heard on the T.V., to pick the bugs out of his plan.
Harry still wasn't sure whether he was just going to say to the Dursleys, 'I'm going to my friend's house," or if he was going to sneak out while they were asleep. For he knew what he had to do: He was going to Hermione's, and from there he was going to St. Mungo's. He decided to tell them straight out what he was going to do. It seemed easier then sneaking around in the Invisibility Cloak Harry had inherited from his father, and there was a smaller chance of getting in trouble when he returned.
Harry took a deep breath. The plan sounded perfect as the fading evening light shined through his window, but a voice in the back of his head couldn't help but remind Harry that there has probably never been another plan in existence where so many things could go wrong.
What if the Dursleys wouldn't let him go? And likewise, what if he didn't tell the Dursleys and woke them up when trying to sneak out? What if he somehow couldn't get on the Knight Bus? What if Hermione's parents wouldn't let her go? What if they couldn't get to St. Mungo's? What if he couldn't see Sirius?
There were too many "what ifs."
To occupy himself, Harry dug his History of Magic homework out of his trunk and started to write an essay on the similarities and differences between the Salem Witch Trials of the Dark Ages in England and the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 in the United States.
It was going to be a very long night.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry judged it was about time to drop the bomb on the Dursleys heads at 9:00 that evening. The Knight Bus would surely be out by now, and his relatives were always in a relatively good mood during this time of the day.
Having sent Hedwig off to wait for him at Hermione's, Harry was careful not to make a lot of noise as he brought her cage and his trunk down the steps. Wishing dearly that he could perform a levitating charm to keep his trunk from making distinctive thump, thump, thumps as he banged his way down the stairs, by the time Harry had reached the first floor of the house there was silence in the living room where the Dursleys were. Wincing slightly at a final thump, Harry left his trunk and cage at the foot of the stairs, near his old cupboard, and entered the living room.
As soon as he passed through the threshold into the living room, he found three pairs of eyes staring at him. Uncle Vernon had his eyes raised over his newspaper, Aunt Petunia had lowered her house decorating magazine to her lap and was staring at Harry as well, and Dudley seemed to have paused with a chocolate chip cookie halfway to his mouth, his lips parted slightly as he prepared to eat. Harry grinned at the three of them sheepishly. He was about to talk, but Uncle Vernon opened his mouth first.
"Boy," he said slowly. "What, in the name of God, are you doing?"
Harry took a deep breath, and said, "I'm going to my friend's house." He chewed his lip, waiting for a reaction from the Dursleys. When the only reaction he saw was Dudley dropping his cookie in surprise, his mouth still hanging open, Harry turned to leave, but then he heard Aunt Petunia's voice.
"You're going where?"
"To my friend's house," Harry repeated firmly. "And I may not be coming back anytime soon...so I'll see you next summer." Or not, Harry thought wistfully, but he kept his mouth shut. Turning his back on the gaping Dursleys, he took his trunk and Hedwig's cage in one hand, and used the other hand to turn the doorknob of the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive. Careful to be as silent as possible, he slipped out into the night.
Outside in Little Whinging, Harry quickly made his way away from Privet Drive, surprised at how little trouble the Dursleys had given him. He had expected his exit to be a lot more difficult then it actually was, and he gave a small smile as he recalled the looks on his relatives' faces as he simply walked out of the house. For all he knew, the Dursleys could still be sitting in the same positions they were in as he left the house, and they could still be staring at the door.
Shaking these thoughts out of his head and trying to focus on the task at hand, Harry realized with a start that he had unconsciously wandered to Magnolia Crescent-the same place he had been in the last time he had boarded the Knight Bus, and the place where he had first seen Sirius.
Harry's eyes traveled across the street, finally resting on the exact spot where a black dog had appeared to him out of the dark, two years ago.
Has it only been two years? Harry thought, slightly amazed. The time in which he had known of Sirius's existence now seemed longer-and the time that he had known that Sirius was innocent...only a year? Was that it? Once again the familiar pang of worry for his godfather pierced Harry's heart. Struggling to ignore it and remembering what he had to do, Harry stuck his wand out into the street, giving a silent call for the Knight Bus.
A/N: Another short chapter-I'm a dead girl, aren't I? I wrote this chapter a while ago, and I don't know how good it is. I haven't reread it before posting this...
Is it just me, or did I get an unusually smaller amount of reviews for this chapter? Where's wellduh..., and Yuffie-Girl, and neutral, and Abby, and Lily Potter, huh? Hmmm...Oh yeah, people, you know the little button that says "Click Here to Submit Review"? Yeah, right, that...unless I am greatly mistaken it's not just there for decoration. If it IS just there for decoration, these FanFiction.Net people need to hire Martha Stewart, cause they need some serious decorating tips... :)
Celestial princess: Hey Dena! Yeah, I haven't gotten around to review your story yet, but I will, I promise! "Over the Misty Mountains..." right we really need to get over that, don't we? :)
Anonymous: Hehe let's get together pour a bucket of ice cold water of Fudge's head...hehe...he's in this story too, but won't appear until a bit later. Invictus really is a great poem isn't it? It does sum up Sirius, and Harry too, I think...grr I'd post it but I need to find my mom's peotry book that has it in it...
WeasleyTwinsLover1112: Your wish is my command...
And...I couldn't make a profit off of any of my fanfiction stories, even if I wanted to!
Chapter Six: Of More Unwelcome News and Unpolished Plans
Hedwig returned to Privet Drive right after the Dursleys started eating dinner. During the meal, Harry knew that he had to eat something, but he wasn't hungry. He was too nervous about what he was going to do tonight. Picking at his food, he sat in silence while Uncle Vernon talked about how he fired two of his employees.
"...and then I just fired them, just like that!" He finished, and sighing contently, he sat up a little straighter in his seat, popping a boiled potato in his mouth. "I love being in charge." Aunt Petunia smiled at him.
I bet you do, Harry thought wryly, but he didn't say anything. He knew better then to say something bad about Uncle Vernon, especially when it concerned his job, which Harry sometimes thought he loved more then Aunt Petunia and Dudley.
Lost in his jumbled thoughts, Harry was unaware when both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia started to stare at him.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon barked. Harry looked up in surprise. "Why aren't you eating?"
Wondering why on Earth Uncle Vernon cared, Harry said sarcastically, "One usually does not eat when one is not hungry."
"Well, then," Uncle Vernon sneered. "If you're not hungry then you will give your food to Dudley." Harry obliged without comment. Uncle Vernon stared at him. He seemed to be trying to think of a good insult.
"What, your weirdo friends haven't written to you this summer? You haven't heard from your precious godfather?" Uncle Vernon said sarcastically.
Harry's blood boiled. He really wasn't in a good enough mood to take Uncle Vernon's remarks lying down. He felt confused-part of his mind was worrying about Hermione and what they were going to do-not to mention worrying about Sirius's safety, and the other part was beginning to get very angry with Uncle Vernon.
"As a matter of fact," Harry replied coolly. "I just got a letter from Sirius, and he wants to know how you're treating me. What should I tell him?"
Harry basked in the look of utter horror and the beginnings of fear on his uncle's face. Harry knew that the Dursleys didn't want to treat him as good as they could be treating him, and they also knew what Sirius was capable of if Harry did indeed tell him how they were treating him.
"Tell him," squeaked Aunt Petunia, who had been listening to the conversation. "Tell him that were treating you just fine. And," she glared at her husband. "That absolutely no negative words were said about your...er...unique way of living."
Harry snorted into his plate of food, and watched as Aunt Petunia gave Dudley a nervous side glance. Every time the Dursley family has come in contact with wizards, it had rebounded on Dudley: The first time, Harry's cousin had gotten a pig's tail. The second time, he had come out of the experience with a tongue that could be measured in feet.
For the rest of the meal, nothing more involving Harry was said.
After dinner, Harry sat in the living room, fiddling with the frayed hem of Dudley's old shirt that he was wearing, as Dudley ate a bag of potato chips and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon watched the news on T.V. Soon enough, Harry found himself gazing out of the window, thinking of nothing in particular, when the words of one of the newscasters jerked him out of his trance like state and caught him completely by surprise.
"Yeah, Dave, weird things are definitely happening all across the country. First those explosions in Southampton, and now outside of Liverpool-"
Liverpool? Harry stared at the television at this startling bit of news. Explosions outside of Liverpool?
"-except that this explosion was massive, incredible, instead of just a series of small explosions in Southampton."
"Yes," Dave the newscaster agreed. "And this time, it was very lucky that the explosion was out in the countryside, where it wasn't incredibly populated, but still, twelve people were killed. This is horrible..."
Suddenly, Aunt Petunia reached over and turned off the T.V., probably to keep Dudley from hearing about what was happening. Dudley, however, wasn't paying any attention-he was busying himself with picking the crums off the bottom of the potato chip bag-but Harry knew better than to turn the T.V. back on. He felt slightly sick. Twelve people? Twelve people? It seemed like Voldemort was making attacks all over Britain, and the Muggles have no idea what was going on, and more people were dying...
Harry realized that without knowing it he was giving a description of Voldemort's reign of power, quite like the description Sirius had given him back at the cave in Hogsmeade, when he had described Voldemort's power thirteen years before. This is what it must have been like...Harry thought. This was what Sirius was talking about...
Harry felt yet another surge of anger toward Cornelius Fudge. He's still in denial...he won't admit this is Voldemort, it's all up to other Ministry members and Dumbledore now...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For a long time he had watched the news report, Harry sat up in his room, watching Hedwig flutter around in her cage, hooting softly. He tried to focus on what he was going to do tonight, and not what he had heard on the T.V., to pick the bugs out of his plan.
Harry still wasn't sure whether he was just going to say to the Dursleys, 'I'm going to my friend's house," or if he was going to sneak out while they were asleep. For he knew what he had to do: He was going to Hermione's, and from there he was going to St. Mungo's. He decided to tell them straight out what he was going to do. It seemed easier then sneaking around in the Invisibility Cloak Harry had inherited from his father, and there was a smaller chance of getting in trouble when he returned.
Harry took a deep breath. The plan sounded perfect as the fading evening light shined through his window, but a voice in the back of his head couldn't help but remind Harry that there has probably never been another plan in existence where so many things could go wrong.
What if the Dursleys wouldn't let him go? And likewise, what if he didn't tell the Dursleys and woke them up when trying to sneak out? What if he somehow couldn't get on the Knight Bus? What if Hermione's parents wouldn't let her go? What if they couldn't get to St. Mungo's? What if he couldn't see Sirius?
There were too many "what ifs."
To occupy himself, Harry dug his History of Magic homework out of his trunk and started to write an essay on the similarities and differences between the Salem Witch Trials of the Dark Ages in England and the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 in the United States.
It was going to be a very long night.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry judged it was about time to drop the bomb on the Dursleys heads at 9:00 that evening. The Knight Bus would surely be out by now, and his relatives were always in a relatively good mood during this time of the day.
Having sent Hedwig off to wait for him at Hermione's, Harry was careful not to make a lot of noise as he brought her cage and his trunk down the steps. Wishing dearly that he could perform a levitating charm to keep his trunk from making distinctive thump, thump, thumps as he banged his way down the stairs, by the time Harry had reached the first floor of the house there was silence in the living room where the Dursleys were. Wincing slightly at a final thump, Harry left his trunk and cage at the foot of the stairs, near his old cupboard, and entered the living room.
As soon as he passed through the threshold into the living room, he found three pairs of eyes staring at him. Uncle Vernon had his eyes raised over his newspaper, Aunt Petunia had lowered her house decorating magazine to her lap and was staring at Harry as well, and Dudley seemed to have paused with a chocolate chip cookie halfway to his mouth, his lips parted slightly as he prepared to eat. Harry grinned at the three of them sheepishly. He was about to talk, but Uncle Vernon opened his mouth first.
"Boy," he said slowly. "What, in the name of God, are you doing?"
Harry took a deep breath, and said, "I'm going to my friend's house." He chewed his lip, waiting for a reaction from the Dursleys. When the only reaction he saw was Dudley dropping his cookie in surprise, his mouth still hanging open, Harry turned to leave, but then he heard Aunt Petunia's voice.
"You're going where?"
"To my friend's house," Harry repeated firmly. "And I may not be coming back anytime soon...so I'll see you next summer." Or not, Harry thought wistfully, but he kept his mouth shut. Turning his back on the gaping Dursleys, he took his trunk and Hedwig's cage in one hand, and used the other hand to turn the doorknob of the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive. Careful to be as silent as possible, he slipped out into the night.
Outside in Little Whinging, Harry quickly made his way away from Privet Drive, surprised at how little trouble the Dursleys had given him. He had expected his exit to be a lot more difficult then it actually was, and he gave a small smile as he recalled the looks on his relatives' faces as he simply walked out of the house. For all he knew, the Dursleys could still be sitting in the same positions they were in as he left the house, and they could still be staring at the door.
Shaking these thoughts out of his head and trying to focus on the task at hand, Harry realized with a start that he had unconsciously wandered to Magnolia Crescent-the same place he had been in the last time he had boarded the Knight Bus, and the place where he had first seen Sirius.
Harry's eyes traveled across the street, finally resting on the exact spot where a black dog had appeared to him out of the dark, two years ago.
Has it only been two years? Harry thought, slightly amazed. The time in which he had known of Sirius's existence now seemed longer-and the time that he had known that Sirius was innocent...only a year? Was that it? Once again the familiar pang of worry for his godfather pierced Harry's heart. Struggling to ignore it and remembering what he had to do, Harry stuck his wand out into the street, giving a silent call for the Knight Bus.
A/N: Another short chapter-I'm a dead girl, aren't I? I wrote this chapter a while ago, and I don't know how good it is. I haven't reread it before posting this...
Is it just me, or did I get an unusually smaller amount of reviews for this chapter? Where's wellduh..., and Yuffie-Girl, and neutral, and Abby, and Lily Potter, huh? Hmmm...Oh yeah, people, you know the little button that says "Click Here to Submit Review"? Yeah, right, that...unless I am greatly mistaken it's not just there for decoration. If it IS just there for decoration, these FanFiction.Net people need to hire Martha Stewart, cause they need some serious decorating tips... :)
Celestial princess: Hey Dena! Yeah, I haven't gotten around to review your story yet, but I will, I promise! "Over the Misty Mountains..." right we really need to get over that, don't we? :)
Anonymous: Hehe let's get together pour a bucket of ice cold water of Fudge's head...hehe...he's in this story too, but won't appear until a bit later. Invictus really is a great poem isn't it? It does sum up Sirius, and Harry too, I think...grr I'd post it but I need to find my mom's peotry book that has it in it...
WeasleyTwinsLover1112: Your wish is my command...
