Disclaimer: You all know the drill, I own NOTHING! I will never own
ANYTHING! I'm poor and, yeah. It's not mine, it's J.K. Rowling's. Deal with
it. ^_~
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Harry sat in the back seat of his Uncle's car. All the events of the past two weeks running over and over through his head. As he gazed out the window, he could feel the tears of hatred and anger burning at his eyes. Quickly he swiped his sleeve across his face. He swore he could hear his cousin, Dudley, snicker, but he took no notice.
His Uncle and Aunt had said little more than two words after Moody had made it clear that he, Harry, was to be treated like a normal sixteen year old boy, no more ridiculously odd chores, and no more blaming him for anything odd that happened around the house. Harry was grateful, but he couldn't show it. Nothing he thought of brought a smile to his face. His one and only hope at happiness was gone, Sirius.
Aunt Petunia glanced at her husband, "Vernon, we need to discuss something." Her voice sounded a touch strained.
Uncle Vernon looked up, his pudgy face full of confusion, "Petunia dear? What is it?"
"I think it's time we were a little more. . . " She trailed off, as if unsure of her words and gazed down at her hands for a moment before looking up and continuing. "understanding of the boy's situation." She said and glanced into the mirror, directly at Harry.
Harry looked up when he realized that they were talking about him and he caught the last little bit if the look from Aunt Petunia and his eyebrows furrowed. Why had she looked at him like that, almost as if she were sorry for him? But before he could even think to open his mouth. . .
"Petunia, are you ill?" Uncle Vernon's face had paled to that of sour milk. The look on his face looked as though he had just swallowed a large gulp of the very same milk.
"No, I'm fine. I just believe that that man." Now she turned in her seat to look at Harry, "What was his name, I don't believe he said it."
Harry's eyess widened, what on earth was wrong with his aunt? Was she maybe.no, that would be too far fetched, "M-Moody." He managed to say.
Aunt Petunia nodded and turned back to her husband, "Yes, Moody. I believe that he made quite a point. After all Vernon, she was my sister. And he is family. We should start treating him like it too."
Harry's eye's darted from his Aunt to the back of his Uncle's head, just waiting for him to pull over the car and leave him and his things on the side of the road. But instead, the car sped up. Harry tightened his sear belt, not knowing what his Uncle was going to do.
"Don't you agree, Vernon?" Petunia asked, this time, her voice was a bit high pitched, she must have sensed what was running through her dear husband's mind.
It took several minutes of stressed silence for him to answer but when he did, Harry could have messed his pants right then and there, "Yes, Petunia dear. I think you're quite right."
Dudley made a sort of muffled yell of surprise and turned to Harry and looked at his father. The look on his face that only on that didn't know what in the world was going on, (such as himself) could make.
Harry fought to stifle a laugh but it escaped him and both his Aunt and Uncle turned to look at him, "What is it that you find so funny, boy?" Uncle Vernon demanded, and at the same time, "Vernon, the road!!" Aunt Petunia shrieked shrilly.
The car swerved violently, Dudley screamed bloody murder, Aunt Petunia went stark white, and Harry clutched his seat. Tires squealed and then they were again on the proper side of the road. Harry never answered his aunt and uncle as to why he had suddenly burst into laughter, and he himself wasn't quite sure. He just prayed to Merlin that it wasn't because of The Dar-Voldemort.
The rest of the ride was quite uneventful unless you count the "ruddy flat tire!" that took Uncle Vernon an hour and a half to figure how to remove because of a pesky lug nut.
They arrived home in time for Aunt Petunia to make a quick supper of roast chicken and potatoes before sending the boys up to bed. Harry was halfway into his room before Dudley managed to stop gasping from the climb up the stairs to say what it was that he had to say to his cousin, "What's the matter with mum? You used that thing on her, didn't you?"
Harry smirked, "It's called a wand. It's made of wood, nothing I know how to do would have had her acting that way. Besides, I'm not allowed to use magic until I'm eighteen, and that won't be until next year you dolt, or haven't you been able to count that high yet?"
Dudley's face went ridged, and for a second, Harry thought that maybe he had had a heart attack or something. But instead, Dudley lunged at him, knocking him to the ground.
Harry grunted and rolled, or at least tried to, from under his cousin. He managed to wriggle at least half way before he heard Uncle Vernon's footsteps thundering up the stairs, "What the bloody hell is going on here?!?!" His face was as red as a tomato and slowly turning a very dark shade of purple.
Dudley jumped up so fast he almost fell down on top of Harry, "He's done something to Mum and won't fess up. Claim's he can't do that because they're not allowed too out of that mad house." He wiped the sweat from his brow and aimed a kick at Harry that resulted in a dull thud as he missed and hit the wall, Harry had rolled out of the way and was in his room by now, standing with one hand on the door, and one on the wall, just waiting to slam it shut. He saw his Uncle open his mouth to speak, but before he could, Harry had slammed the door shut with such force that the ceiling lamp downstairs rattled.
He turned and flopped down on his bed and pulled something from his pocket that had been digging into his side, it was the mirror that Sirius had given him. He was tempted to just chuck it to the floor, or into his trunk and forget about it. It had no further use, Sirius was gone and there was no bringing him back. The ornate steel frame was cold. Harry looked at it for a moment longer and it seemed to pulse with an unseen energy. He flipped it over and peered into the glass, staring back at him was his own reflection, an almost exact copy of James, his father, that is, except for his eyes. His eye's blurred with tears and he closed them and let the tears fall freely. When he opened his eye's again, there was something else in the mirror, blurred visions, colors that didn't belong if he was looking at himself, but before he could get a closer look, he was looking back at himself again. He snatched a tissue off his desk and rubbed the slight smudges away from tears fallen and rubbed his eyes.
There was a tapping on the glass of his window and he looked up to see Hedwig, she hooted softly and tapped again to be let in. Harry stood and stretched as he walked to the window, "Hey, girl." He stroked her gently and kissed her head. At least he could now talk to someone that would listen and not call him crazy, or tell him not to blame himself. He sat down on the bed with her in his lap and before he could even think to speak, something brown, lumpy, and feathery tumbled into his room via window and lay still on the floor.
Hedwig jumped from Harry's lap, over to her cage and perched on top of it. Harry jumped from the bed to the floor and scooped up the feathery lump, "Errol, what on earth are you doing here?" Harry set the disorientated owl on his pillow, gave him an owl treat and removed the letter from the poor bird's leg. If was from Percy of all people. The first thought to run through Harry's head was, "What the hell does that prat want, writing me." But he opened it anyways, and read,
Dear Harry,
I am terribly sorry for those things that I wrote to Ron earlier this year. I now see that it was a bit.harsh I think. I do hope Errol makes it to you with no trouble. I do hope there are no harsh feelings, mate. I will understand if you do not respond to this, but do tell mum that I am sorry for sending the jumper back. Do have a nice summer, won't you?
Percy
Harry just about died there and then, Percy, apologizing? He had to be ill when he wrote it. But no matter. Harry tossed it in his bin and pulled out several scraps of parchment, the first he addressed to Ron,
Ron,
You would not believe this unless you saw it, but I just got a letter from Percy apologizing for the letter he wrote you about me! And poor Errol, he's exhausted and isn't moving much, but at least he finished the owl treat I gave him, I'm going to wait to send him back till tomorrow night, and Hedwig can go along just incase, and get this, my Aunt and Uncle are being nice! It is somewhat scary though.
See you soon I hope! Harry
He started to write another to Hermione, but figured he would do it in the morning; her parents might not like an owl at their window this late at night. He brought Ron's letter over to Hedwig and gave her an owl treat, "Make sure he gets it tonight, alright?" She hooted softly and nipped his hand affectionately as he tied it to her leg and then watched her as she launched herself into the night. Harry sighed and sat down on his desk chair, within minutes, he was fast asleep.
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Harry sat in the back seat of his Uncle's car. All the events of the past two weeks running over and over through his head. As he gazed out the window, he could feel the tears of hatred and anger burning at his eyes. Quickly he swiped his sleeve across his face. He swore he could hear his cousin, Dudley, snicker, but he took no notice.
His Uncle and Aunt had said little more than two words after Moody had made it clear that he, Harry, was to be treated like a normal sixteen year old boy, no more ridiculously odd chores, and no more blaming him for anything odd that happened around the house. Harry was grateful, but he couldn't show it. Nothing he thought of brought a smile to his face. His one and only hope at happiness was gone, Sirius.
Aunt Petunia glanced at her husband, "Vernon, we need to discuss something." Her voice sounded a touch strained.
Uncle Vernon looked up, his pudgy face full of confusion, "Petunia dear? What is it?"
"I think it's time we were a little more. . . " She trailed off, as if unsure of her words and gazed down at her hands for a moment before looking up and continuing. "understanding of the boy's situation." She said and glanced into the mirror, directly at Harry.
Harry looked up when he realized that they were talking about him and he caught the last little bit if the look from Aunt Petunia and his eyebrows furrowed. Why had she looked at him like that, almost as if she were sorry for him? But before he could even think to open his mouth. . .
"Petunia, are you ill?" Uncle Vernon's face had paled to that of sour milk. The look on his face looked as though he had just swallowed a large gulp of the very same milk.
"No, I'm fine. I just believe that that man." Now she turned in her seat to look at Harry, "What was his name, I don't believe he said it."
Harry's eyess widened, what on earth was wrong with his aunt? Was she maybe.no, that would be too far fetched, "M-Moody." He managed to say.
Aunt Petunia nodded and turned back to her husband, "Yes, Moody. I believe that he made quite a point. After all Vernon, she was my sister. And he is family. We should start treating him like it too."
Harry's eye's darted from his Aunt to the back of his Uncle's head, just waiting for him to pull over the car and leave him and his things on the side of the road. But instead, the car sped up. Harry tightened his sear belt, not knowing what his Uncle was going to do.
"Don't you agree, Vernon?" Petunia asked, this time, her voice was a bit high pitched, she must have sensed what was running through her dear husband's mind.
It took several minutes of stressed silence for him to answer but when he did, Harry could have messed his pants right then and there, "Yes, Petunia dear. I think you're quite right."
Dudley made a sort of muffled yell of surprise and turned to Harry and looked at his father. The look on his face that only on that didn't know what in the world was going on, (such as himself) could make.
Harry fought to stifle a laugh but it escaped him and both his Aunt and Uncle turned to look at him, "What is it that you find so funny, boy?" Uncle Vernon demanded, and at the same time, "Vernon, the road!!" Aunt Petunia shrieked shrilly.
The car swerved violently, Dudley screamed bloody murder, Aunt Petunia went stark white, and Harry clutched his seat. Tires squealed and then they were again on the proper side of the road. Harry never answered his aunt and uncle as to why he had suddenly burst into laughter, and he himself wasn't quite sure. He just prayed to Merlin that it wasn't because of The Dar-Voldemort.
The rest of the ride was quite uneventful unless you count the "ruddy flat tire!" that took Uncle Vernon an hour and a half to figure how to remove because of a pesky lug nut.
They arrived home in time for Aunt Petunia to make a quick supper of roast chicken and potatoes before sending the boys up to bed. Harry was halfway into his room before Dudley managed to stop gasping from the climb up the stairs to say what it was that he had to say to his cousin, "What's the matter with mum? You used that thing on her, didn't you?"
Harry smirked, "It's called a wand. It's made of wood, nothing I know how to do would have had her acting that way. Besides, I'm not allowed to use magic until I'm eighteen, and that won't be until next year you dolt, or haven't you been able to count that high yet?"
Dudley's face went ridged, and for a second, Harry thought that maybe he had had a heart attack or something. But instead, Dudley lunged at him, knocking him to the ground.
Harry grunted and rolled, or at least tried to, from under his cousin. He managed to wriggle at least half way before he heard Uncle Vernon's footsteps thundering up the stairs, "What the bloody hell is going on here?!?!" His face was as red as a tomato and slowly turning a very dark shade of purple.
Dudley jumped up so fast he almost fell down on top of Harry, "He's done something to Mum and won't fess up. Claim's he can't do that because they're not allowed too out of that mad house." He wiped the sweat from his brow and aimed a kick at Harry that resulted in a dull thud as he missed and hit the wall, Harry had rolled out of the way and was in his room by now, standing with one hand on the door, and one on the wall, just waiting to slam it shut. He saw his Uncle open his mouth to speak, but before he could, Harry had slammed the door shut with such force that the ceiling lamp downstairs rattled.
He turned and flopped down on his bed and pulled something from his pocket that had been digging into his side, it was the mirror that Sirius had given him. He was tempted to just chuck it to the floor, or into his trunk and forget about it. It had no further use, Sirius was gone and there was no bringing him back. The ornate steel frame was cold. Harry looked at it for a moment longer and it seemed to pulse with an unseen energy. He flipped it over and peered into the glass, staring back at him was his own reflection, an almost exact copy of James, his father, that is, except for his eyes. His eye's blurred with tears and he closed them and let the tears fall freely. When he opened his eye's again, there was something else in the mirror, blurred visions, colors that didn't belong if he was looking at himself, but before he could get a closer look, he was looking back at himself again. He snatched a tissue off his desk and rubbed the slight smudges away from tears fallen and rubbed his eyes.
There was a tapping on the glass of his window and he looked up to see Hedwig, she hooted softly and tapped again to be let in. Harry stood and stretched as he walked to the window, "Hey, girl." He stroked her gently and kissed her head. At least he could now talk to someone that would listen and not call him crazy, or tell him not to blame himself. He sat down on the bed with her in his lap and before he could even think to speak, something brown, lumpy, and feathery tumbled into his room via window and lay still on the floor.
Hedwig jumped from Harry's lap, over to her cage and perched on top of it. Harry jumped from the bed to the floor and scooped up the feathery lump, "Errol, what on earth are you doing here?" Harry set the disorientated owl on his pillow, gave him an owl treat and removed the letter from the poor bird's leg. If was from Percy of all people. The first thought to run through Harry's head was, "What the hell does that prat want, writing me." But he opened it anyways, and read,
Dear Harry,
I am terribly sorry for those things that I wrote to Ron earlier this year. I now see that it was a bit.harsh I think. I do hope Errol makes it to you with no trouble. I do hope there are no harsh feelings, mate. I will understand if you do not respond to this, but do tell mum that I am sorry for sending the jumper back. Do have a nice summer, won't you?
Percy
Harry just about died there and then, Percy, apologizing? He had to be ill when he wrote it. But no matter. Harry tossed it in his bin and pulled out several scraps of parchment, the first he addressed to Ron,
Ron,
You would not believe this unless you saw it, but I just got a letter from Percy apologizing for the letter he wrote you about me! And poor Errol, he's exhausted and isn't moving much, but at least he finished the owl treat I gave him, I'm going to wait to send him back till tomorrow night, and Hedwig can go along just incase, and get this, my Aunt and Uncle are being nice! It is somewhat scary though.
See you soon I hope! Harry
He started to write another to Hermione, but figured he would do it in the morning; her parents might not like an owl at their window this late at night. He brought Ron's letter over to Hedwig and gave her an owl treat, "Make sure he gets it tonight, alright?" She hooted softly and nipped his hand affectionately as he tied it to her leg and then watched her as she launched herself into the night. Harry sighed and sat down on his desk chair, within minutes, he was fast asleep.