A Glimpse Into You
PG-13
Kali Kato
Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.
P
WARNING: This fic contains genuine Book 5 (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix SPOILERS. I suggest you hold off from reading this fanfic until you read J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.
P
star: When I say I have big plans, I mean that I have some ideas rolling around in my head for this story that will take form and applied to paper/wordpad. That is... if people like this fic. ;)
P
After breakfast, Harry retreated to his room, highly aware of Dudley's threats of another swirley in the toilet ringing in his ears. Sometimes Harry wondered how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia allowed Dudley to get away with his threats, when it occured to Harry, that his parents, (his father especially) were probably just as bad at his age and would probably love to give Harry a swirley or two back then.
P
Harry tried with little luck to comb back his upturned, messy hair in the bathroom mirror. Since the start of summer he had begun to grow out his hair in the hope of taming it. His black mane now stood tossled at his neck and uneven in the back--- he looked like a shaggy dog in need of a haircut. He had to admit, though, that he thought he looked more appealing this way--- like a rebel. His glasses, which he had since he was nine, were starting to outgrow his face. The circle frames were old and loose, and the paint had been chipped away from years of use. Harry wondered if there was a spell that could stretch his glasses to his face so he wouldn't have to bother his Aunt and Uncle for a new pair. Harry dressed and noticed that his clothes were tighter and his shirt shorter--- he was growing, but he knew Ron still outdid him in height. He missed the Weasleys and could only wish for the moment he would see them, freckles and all.
P
Harry came down the steps and spyed Dudley grabbing some chocolate bars from the cupboard high above the oak counter in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia had hid them there hoping Dudley wouldn't notice--- but fat Dudley had a eye for candy and sneaked out as much as he could, cramming it into his plump face with feverish movements. It disguested Harry.
P
"Boy," Uncle Vernon's deep voice came from behind Harry. "Boy, I'm closing a deal with the McGregor firm today, and your Aunt and I want the transaction to go smoothly, so---"
P
Harry interrupted harshly with, "I'll stay in my room and keep quiet."
P
Uncle Vernon got quite a look on his face, one of supreme knowledge. He smiled smugly. "Actually, I've arranged for you to visit Mrs. Figg next door. You'll be doing some chores over there, mind you, you'll be paid nothing. I expect you to be on your best behavior, and if I hear otherwise, you'll have to deal with your... punishment."
P
Harry tried his best to hid a small smile tugging at his lips. If only Uncle Vernon knew the truth--- Mrs. Figg would treat him nicely, probably stuff him full of snacks. There would be no chores for him. Harry decided to feign innocence by looking disturbed. "Do I HAVE to," he asked.
P
"Yes, Potter, I don't want you near my guests. They'll not be informed of your existence in my household." Uncle Vernon said with satisfaction.
P
"Lovely," Harry replied dryly.
P
Uncle Vernon nodded and then walked toward the stairs, not even noticing Dudley and his candy heist. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to go see what was going on outside Privet Drive, number four. Harry grabbed his jacket and raced toward the door, happy to see the world outside his prison.
P
The grass had grown thick and dry outside the Durshley's lawn, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Uncle Vernon would be screaming at Harry to mow it. Harry tried hopelessly to wave at Mrs. O'Connell, who lived across the way at number ten, but she turned her nose up at him and continued to water her rose garden. Harry knew the neighbors still thought he was a troubled boy, and he guessed that would never change. Harry took a seat outside the drive of his "home" and began to draw lazy circles with his hand in the dirt--- he was truly bored out of his mind. He would give anything to be back at Hogwarts, to see Ron and Hermione again, to talk to them and laugh with them. Harry stared up at the sky and tried to make out shapes in the fading clouds...
P
It was then Harry saw it.
P
A flash of green light far off illuminated the clouds so they looked like a floating mass of dark acid. But as fast as the flash came, it disappeared. Harry rubbed his eyes--- certainly his mind was tricking him. But, in Harry's six years of being a wizard, he had learned to never trust the unseen. Harry stood, still entranced by the sky, and made his way to Mrs. Figg's house.
P
Maybe the old bat would know just what was going on.
P
Harry tried to not step on the four (rather plump) cats laying about Mrs. Figg's walkway. He made his way to the door and picked up the knocker, letting it fall with a small bang on the oak wood. A cat meowed a small distance away from Harry, and he realized the cat's color was vaguely familiar. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, and waited for an answer. His eyes glanced up at the graying clouds.... but he saw nothing. What was happening in the wizard world?
P
The door swung open rather violently, and Mrs. Figg was standing a hair away from Harry's neck, her breathe the smell of old liquor. She was dressed in a ratty pink night dress, her slippers intact. She looked up at Harry, and he realized he was no longer looking the woman in the eye as he did last summer. He was taller. At last.
P
"Harry!" She squeaked, "I wasn't expecting you 'till nightfall, when the terrible fat bastard of a uncle said I'd be watching you," she looked him up and down, "Of course, you're welcome in my home anyday."
P
"Uh, thanks," Harry said, discreetely stepping back.
P
"Well, don't stand there waiting for he-who-shall-not-be-named-in-my-house to soar upon us--- GET IN!"
P
She then grabbed Harry by his collar and dragged him into the old house, leaving the meowing cats outside. The door was slammed and Harry watched her key seven sets of locks before sighing to herself. Mrs. Figg, who was a squib and no interest to Voldemort, was always cautious when Harry was concerned.
P
"Sit down, boy, I'll bring you some tea," She said, heading toward the kitchen.
P
"I'm quite fine, thanks," Harry tried. He didn't want to tell her that her tea tasted like old feet and cat hair.
P
"No, no, a growing lad needs his vitamins," and with that she disappeared behind the molding curtain that was used as a makeshift door into the kitchen. To be frank, her house chilled Harry. It was dirty, messy, and had a terrible ordor to the chairs. But, Harry would rather be here then in the range of Uncle Vernon and his guests. Harry sat and stared at the ceiling--- the paint was fading. Perhaps, Harry thought, he should offer to fix up her place--- she had been sneaking him pies, afterall.
P
Mrs. Figg returned in no time with a cup of tea, well, actually, it wasn't a cup. It was a jar... filled with a steaming yellow substance. Harry took it was a plastered grin, but dare not drink it. He sometimes wondered why she didn't own decent cups.
P
"So, Harry, have you heard from The Order?"
p
"Not really," Harry said, pinching his brow. As a matter of fact he hadn't seen or heard from any of The Order since last year. He had only kept up letters with Lupin, Ron, Hermione and one from Luna. What had happened?
P
"Well, boy, I will say that they have been keeping very close eyes on you. Fletcher and I patrol evenings, and Tonks has seen you every morining as you rise and shine. Poor girl, you scare her silly when you wake up screaming. Is it bad dreams?"
P
Harry suddenly wondered how Tonks had been aware of his dreams--- how could she have been that close to him?
P
"Sometimes," Harry admitted softly, but it seemed Mrs. Figg didn't even hear him.
P
"Is The Order still at Grimmuald Place?" Harry asked.
P
"I'm afraid I know nothing of that," she said, looking at him and then to his tea, "Drink up, dear."
P
Harry decided it was time to change the subject.
P
"May I ask you something, Mrs Figg?"
P
"Certainly, but take a sip first. It's good, I promise. It's a private recepie from my Great Aunt."
P
Harry didn't.
P
"Just before coming here I saw something in the sky---" He began.
P
"The sky, you say," Figg interrupted, her eyes growing wider.
P
"Yes, it was like the sky exploded internally. It was green and the clouds bubbled like acid and---"
P
But before he could continue she jumped up and put her hands over her ears and gave a deathly scream.
P
"Oh dear, we're gonna die! Die!" She cried as she ran in circles around Harry's chair. "Die, die, die, die, die!"
P
"What?" Harry said, blinking at the crazy old woman in front of him.
P
"Harry, this is bigger than you and I, this---"
P
But she never had a chance to answer. Before Harry could do anything a stripped cat, he one from beofre, leapt into the room through the open window, landing like a wisp on the dusty floor. It was then Harry remembered who the cat was. Harry stood, and tried not to look guilty. Mrs. Figg, still screaming her head off, was not helping the look on his face as the large cat stared into Harry's green eyes. Even as a cat, she had a look of complete annoyance.
P
Professor McGonagall had arrived.
PG-13
Kali Kato
Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts brings new mysteries, relationships, fights... and an even greater appreciation for those who love him.
P
WARNING: This fic contains genuine Book 5 (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix SPOILERS. I suggest you hold off from reading this fanfic until you read J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.
P
star: When I say I have big plans, I mean that I have some ideas rolling around in my head for this story that will take form and applied to paper/wordpad. That is... if people like this fic. ;)
P
After breakfast, Harry retreated to his room, highly aware of Dudley's threats of another swirley in the toilet ringing in his ears. Sometimes Harry wondered how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia allowed Dudley to get away with his threats, when it occured to Harry, that his parents, (his father especially) were probably just as bad at his age and would probably love to give Harry a swirley or two back then.
P
Harry tried with little luck to comb back his upturned, messy hair in the bathroom mirror. Since the start of summer he had begun to grow out his hair in the hope of taming it. His black mane now stood tossled at his neck and uneven in the back--- he looked like a shaggy dog in need of a haircut. He had to admit, though, that he thought he looked more appealing this way--- like a rebel. His glasses, which he had since he was nine, were starting to outgrow his face. The circle frames were old and loose, and the paint had been chipped away from years of use. Harry wondered if there was a spell that could stretch his glasses to his face so he wouldn't have to bother his Aunt and Uncle for a new pair. Harry dressed and noticed that his clothes were tighter and his shirt shorter--- he was growing, but he knew Ron still outdid him in height. He missed the Weasleys and could only wish for the moment he would see them, freckles and all.
P
Harry came down the steps and spyed Dudley grabbing some chocolate bars from the cupboard high above the oak counter in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia had hid them there hoping Dudley wouldn't notice--- but fat Dudley had a eye for candy and sneaked out as much as he could, cramming it into his plump face with feverish movements. It disguested Harry.
P
"Boy," Uncle Vernon's deep voice came from behind Harry. "Boy, I'm closing a deal with the McGregor firm today, and your Aunt and I want the transaction to go smoothly, so---"
P
Harry interrupted harshly with, "I'll stay in my room and keep quiet."
P
Uncle Vernon got quite a look on his face, one of supreme knowledge. He smiled smugly. "Actually, I've arranged for you to visit Mrs. Figg next door. You'll be doing some chores over there, mind you, you'll be paid nothing. I expect you to be on your best behavior, and if I hear otherwise, you'll have to deal with your... punishment."
P
Harry tried his best to hid a small smile tugging at his lips. If only Uncle Vernon knew the truth--- Mrs. Figg would treat him nicely, probably stuff him full of snacks. There would be no chores for him. Harry decided to feign innocence by looking disturbed. "Do I HAVE to," he asked.
P
"Yes, Potter, I don't want you near my guests. They'll not be informed of your existence in my household." Uncle Vernon said with satisfaction.
P
"Lovely," Harry replied dryly.
P
Uncle Vernon nodded and then walked toward the stairs, not even noticing Dudley and his candy heist. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to go see what was going on outside Privet Drive, number four. Harry grabbed his jacket and raced toward the door, happy to see the world outside his prison.
P
The grass had grown thick and dry outside the Durshley's lawn, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Uncle Vernon would be screaming at Harry to mow it. Harry tried hopelessly to wave at Mrs. O'Connell, who lived across the way at number ten, but she turned her nose up at him and continued to water her rose garden. Harry knew the neighbors still thought he was a troubled boy, and he guessed that would never change. Harry took a seat outside the drive of his "home" and began to draw lazy circles with his hand in the dirt--- he was truly bored out of his mind. He would give anything to be back at Hogwarts, to see Ron and Hermione again, to talk to them and laugh with them. Harry stared up at the sky and tried to make out shapes in the fading clouds...
P
It was then Harry saw it.
P
A flash of green light far off illuminated the clouds so they looked like a floating mass of dark acid. But as fast as the flash came, it disappeared. Harry rubbed his eyes--- certainly his mind was tricking him. But, in Harry's six years of being a wizard, he had learned to never trust the unseen. Harry stood, still entranced by the sky, and made his way to Mrs. Figg's house.
P
Maybe the old bat would know just what was going on.
P
Harry tried to not step on the four (rather plump) cats laying about Mrs. Figg's walkway. He made his way to the door and picked up the knocker, letting it fall with a small bang on the oak wood. A cat meowed a small distance away from Harry, and he realized the cat's color was vaguely familiar. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, and waited for an answer. His eyes glanced up at the graying clouds.... but he saw nothing. What was happening in the wizard world?
P
The door swung open rather violently, and Mrs. Figg was standing a hair away from Harry's neck, her breathe the smell of old liquor. She was dressed in a ratty pink night dress, her slippers intact. She looked up at Harry, and he realized he was no longer looking the woman in the eye as he did last summer. He was taller. At last.
P
"Harry!" She squeaked, "I wasn't expecting you 'till nightfall, when the terrible fat bastard of a uncle said I'd be watching you," she looked him up and down, "Of course, you're welcome in my home anyday."
P
"Uh, thanks," Harry said, discreetely stepping back.
P
"Well, don't stand there waiting for he-who-shall-not-be-named-in-my-house to soar upon us--- GET IN!"
P
She then grabbed Harry by his collar and dragged him into the old house, leaving the meowing cats outside. The door was slammed and Harry watched her key seven sets of locks before sighing to herself. Mrs. Figg, who was a squib and no interest to Voldemort, was always cautious when Harry was concerned.
P
"Sit down, boy, I'll bring you some tea," She said, heading toward the kitchen.
P
"I'm quite fine, thanks," Harry tried. He didn't want to tell her that her tea tasted like old feet and cat hair.
P
"No, no, a growing lad needs his vitamins," and with that she disappeared behind the molding curtain that was used as a makeshift door into the kitchen. To be frank, her house chilled Harry. It was dirty, messy, and had a terrible ordor to the chairs. But, Harry would rather be here then in the range of Uncle Vernon and his guests. Harry sat and stared at the ceiling--- the paint was fading. Perhaps, Harry thought, he should offer to fix up her place--- she had been sneaking him pies, afterall.
P
Mrs. Figg returned in no time with a cup of tea, well, actually, it wasn't a cup. It was a jar... filled with a steaming yellow substance. Harry took it was a plastered grin, but dare not drink it. He sometimes wondered why she didn't own decent cups.
P
"So, Harry, have you heard from The Order?"
p
"Not really," Harry said, pinching his brow. As a matter of fact he hadn't seen or heard from any of The Order since last year. He had only kept up letters with Lupin, Ron, Hermione and one from Luna. What had happened?
P
"Well, boy, I will say that they have been keeping very close eyes on you. Fletcher and I patrol evenings, and Tonks has seen you every morining as you rise and shine. Poor girl, you scare her silly when you wake up screaming. Is it bad dreams?"
P
Harry suddenly wondered how Tonks had been aware of his dreams--- how could she have been that close to him?
P
"Sometimes," Harry admitted softly, but it seemed Mrs. Figg didn't even hear him.
P
"Is The Order still at Grimmuald Place?" Harry asked.
P
"I'm afraid I know nothing of that," she said, looking at him and then to his tea, "Drink up, dear."
P
Harry decided it was time to change the subject.
P
"May I ask you something, Mrs Figg?"
P
"Certainly, but take a sip first. It's good, I promise. It's a private recepie from my Great Aunt."
P
Harry didn't.
P
"Just before coming here I saw something in the sky---" He began.
P
"The sky, you say," Figg interrupted, her eyes growing wider.
P
"Yes, it was like the sky exploded internally. It was green and the clouds bubbled like acid and---"
P
But before he could continue she jumped up and put her hands over her ears and gave a deathly scream.
P
"Oh dear, we're gonna die! Die!" She cried as she ran in circles around Harry's chair. "Die, die, die, die, die!"
P
"What?" Harry said, blinking at the crazy old woman in front of him.
P
"Harry, this is bigger than you and I, this---"
P
But she never had a chance to answer. Before Harry could do anything a stripped cat, he one from beofre, leapt into the room through the open window, landing like a wisp on the dusty floor. It was then Harry remembered who the cat was. Harry stood, and tried not to look guilty. Mrs. Figg, still screaming her head off, was not helping the look on his face as the large cat stared into Harry's green eyes. Even as a cat, she had a look of complete annoyance.
P
Professor McGonagall had arrived.