"That bloody bird is driving me mad," Harry heard Uncle Vernon mutter from down the hall. "Shrieking and rattling his bloody cage in the middle of the night…"
Harry smirked. A few weeks ago, Uncle Vernon and his family would have let Harry get away with this, but he wasn't stupid enough to show disrespect towards Harry after what had happened when he got off Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
It was July 29th, two days before Harry's birthday, and he hadn't spoken to any of his friends since the last day at Hogwarts. It was just like the vacation before his second year, when he thought his friends weren't keeping in touch with him but really a house-elf had stolen the letters.
Harry looked longingly out the window, his smirk fading from the thought.
The trees were swaying lightly in the wind, the sun was shining brightly onto Privet Drive, and the neighbors were, as usual, spending their afternoon caring for their lawns and cars.
Harry shuffled over to his desk, grabbed some parchment and a quill, and began writing a letter to one of his best friends.
iRon,
Where are you? You promised to send me a letter as soon as you got home. I haven't gotten any since I arrived here.
The Dursleys are treating me fine, as you would know. They ignore me most of the time, but I think that's for the best.
Have you heard anything about Voldemort yet? How's Fudge and the Ministry reacting to the idea that he actually has come back?
How's your summer been? Interesting, I hope? Mine's been ok, it would have been better if you and Hermione could have bothered to write me a letter.
Write back quickly.
Harry/i
Harry reread it and carefully sealed the parchment, wondering why Ron and Hermione were ignoring him like this.
He walked over to Hedwig, who was eating a dead frog in her cage and occasionally shrieking.
"Hello, Hedwig," Harry greeted, opening up the cage door. "This one's to Ron, make sure that he writes back immediately."
Hedwig gazed at him with round amber eyes as she held out her leg for Harry to attach the letter. He carried her over to the window and after Harry stroked her feathers, she soared off, disappearing beyond the corner.
Approaching midnight, Harry was sprawled on his bed, hoping that Hedwig came back before he fell asleep. He'd been waiting for Ron's letter ever since he sent it, and it was so unlike Ron to ignore Harry's attempts at keeping in touch.
As for Hermione, Harry had sent her about three letters in the past week, knowing that she'd always been the sensible one, the one that was reliable and trustworthy.
But there was nothing, not one letter or one attempt at trying to send Harry a letter or even call him the Muggle way.
Harry didn't know how long he was going to stay up and wait for Ron's letter, but all he knew was that he was sick of his life. He was tired of being "the Boy who Lived", tired of having his parents dead, tired of the Dursleys, and tired of realizing that Sirius was actually, truly gone.
Harry grabbed his pillow and chucked it across the room. But instead of hitting the wall, it went straight through the window.
Harry moaned. He was going to have to get it - otherwise he would be sleeping without a pillow.
He grudgingly got up and tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake up the Dursleys. He opened the front door quietly.
But when Harry opened the door, his jaw dropped at the sight. His head spun like a tornado and his heart soared.
"Ron! Hermione!" Harry gasped.
Harry smirked. A few weeks ago, Uncle Vernon and his family would have let Harry get away with this, but he wasn't stupid enough to show disrespect towards Harry after what had happened when he got off Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
It was July 29th, two days before Harry's birthday, and he hadn't spoken to any of his friends since the last day at Hogwarts. It was just like the vacation before his second year, when he thought his friends weren't keeping in touch with him but really a house-elf had stolen the letters.
Harry looked longingly out the window, his smirk fading from the thought.
The trees were swaying lightly in the wind, the sun was shining brightly onto Privet Drive, and the neighbors were, as usual, spending their afternoon caring for their lawns and cars.
Harry shuffled over to his desk, grabbed some parchment and a quill, and began writing a letter to one of his best friends.
iRon,
Where are you? You promised to send me a letter as soon as you got home. I haven't gotten any since I arrived here.
The Dursleys are treating me fine, as you would know. They ignore me most of the time, but I think that's for the best.
Have you heard anything about Voldemort yet? How's Fudge and the Ministry reacting to the idea that he actually has come back?
How's your summer been? Interesting, I hope? Mine's been ok, it would have been better if you and Hermione could have bothered to write me a letter.
Write back quickly.
Harry/i
Harry reread it and carefully sealed the parchment, wondering why Ron and Hermione were ignoring him like this.
He walked over to Hedwig, who was eating a dead frog in her cage and occasionally shrieking.
"Hello, Hedwig," Harry greeted, opening up the cage door. "This one's to Ron, make sure that he writes back immediately."
Hedwig gazed at him with round amber eyes as she held out her leg for Harry to attach the letter. He carried her over to the window and after Harry stroked her feathers, she soared off, disappearing beyond the corner.
Approaching midnight, Harry was sprawled on his bed, hoping that Hedwig came back before he fell asleep. He'd been waiting for Ron's letter ever since he sent it, and it was so unlike Ron to ignore Harry's attempts at keeping in touch.
As for Hermione, Harry had sent her about three letters in the past week, knowing that she'd always been the sensible one, the one that was reliable and trustworthy.
But there was nothing, not one letter or one attempt at trying to send Harry a letter or even call him the Muggle way.
Harry didn't know how long he was going to stay up and wait for Ron's letter, but all he knew was that he was sick of his life. He was tired of being "the Boy who Lived", tired of having his parents dead, tired of the Dursleys, and tired of realizing that Sirius was actually, truly gone.
Harry grabbed his pillow and chucked it across the room. But instead of hitting the wall, it went straight through the window.
Harry moaned. He was going to have to get it - otherwise he would be sleeping without a pillow.
He grudgingly got up and tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake up the Dursleys. He opened the front door quietly.
But when Harry opened the door, his jaw dropped at the sight. His head spun like a tornado and his heart soared.
"Ron! Hermione!" Harry gasped.