A/N: Well, that was fun to write, and here is some more. I don't know where
I got this idea.but it's playing out pretty nice. Tell me what you think
please!
Disclaimer: Well, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 1: Harry's Summer
Harry lay on his bed. The silence surrounding him was deafening. Yet he didn't move. He stared at the ceiling, unblinkingly. "Why Sirius? Why not someone else?" he cried quietly. He closed his eyes, trying to blink away the tears. He'd cried enough. Sirius wouldn't want him to act like this. Still, he didn't move.
He heard muffled sounds of movement downstairs. Likely his Uncle Vernon, looking to find a job for him. He turned over and stared aimlessly at the white sheets on his bed. He lifted his head slightly when he heard Hedwig tapping at the window with her beak. He almost didn't bother to get up. But Hedwig's taps became more insistent, and he slowly trudged over to the window. As he unlatched it and slid it open, he realized she would likely have a letter from someone. Someone who didn't care. Not so much as they pretended. How could they care? Sirius wasn't their godfather!
Hedwig hooted softly as she flew in and landed softly on his bed, holding out her leg. He trudged heavily back to the bed and sat down. "BOY!" came the shout from downstairs. He ignored it. As he untied the letter, there came the sound of feet on the staircase. Hedwig flew out the open window. He slowly opened the letter; completely ignoring his uncle's continued shouts and the nearing footfalls.
He sighed when he saw the writing in the letter. It was Lupin. Again.
Harry, How are you holding up? Doing well I hope? Everyone sends their greetings, though I know you likely don't want to hear it. I would like to hear from you Harry, everyone is getting worried. If you don't send us a response soon, we will have to come and get you. Much as I regret to have to disturb your mourning, I know it is best to have someone to talk to. I miss him too Harry, but I know he was happiest to go that way. Please don't blame yourself, I realize this may be hard for you, but don't. Please, write me back. If no one else, I really want to hear from you. This grows increasingly hard to write, as I don't know what you're going through. The person I lost may be the same as you, but he meant something different to me than he did to you. Are your relatives treating you all right? Not abusing you I hope?
Love, Remus Lupin
The door slammed open as he finished the letter. Uncle Vernon stood in the doorway, his face purple. Harry dropped the letter on the ground and stared blankly at him. "What?" he asked quietly. "WHAT? WHAT? I YELL FOR YOU, AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU IGNORE ME! THAT'S WHAT! THAT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED! I WANT TO SEE YOU DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW!" Uncle Vernon yelled. Harry did not even blink at the sound. "If you don't want to attract attention, I wouldn't advise yelling. I'm sure the neighbors heard you." Harry told him, using more words at once than his uncle had heard him use all summer. His uncle's face went a darker shade of purple, and he pointed towards the stairs. "Downstairs! Now!" he hissed, in an attempt to keep his voice down. Harry ignored him. He stared at the wall above the door, and ran his fingers through his hair. His uncle marched in and grabbed his arm in a tight grip, jerking him to his feet. "What is your problem?" Uncle Vernon spat angrily, his large purple face only a small space away from Harry's. He shook Harry around a bit, trying to catch his attention. Harry stayed silent. His head shook around, and he could feel bruises forming from Vernon's fingers. But he stayed silent, feeling he deserved the pain.
Vernon dropped him on the ground and stared down at him angrily, wondering why he would not talk. "Boy, come downstairs, your Aunt and Dudley are waiting." He whispered, his voice at a dangerous level. He then stomped off without waiting to see if Harry was listening.
Harry sighed and picked himself up off the floor. He brushed himself off and walked quietly to the door. It had been like this everyday for the whole summer. Of course, Harry did not bother to owl anyone about it, and the Dursleys seemed to know he would not tell, because the beatings only increased.
He paused to look mournfully out the open window, glanced down at Remus's letter, and thought he might write him back. Hermione and Ron had also owled him, though he just threw their letters away, not wanting to hear what fun they were having. They didn't understand, no one did.
Then he walked slowly out the door and down the stairs to where his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon waited. He could hear Dudley whining to his father about having to stay at home today, but Vernon would have none of it.
He paused at the foot of the stairs, completely unnoticed, and surveyed the scene. They didn't seem to be too angry, so he assumed they would be assigning him another pointless task so they could laugh at him and slap him around when he did it wrong. He was almost sorry they weren't mad, it would have been better.
"BOY?! WHAT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG?" Uncle Vernon shouted. Harry drug himself out to the living room where his relatives waited. They all seemed to be looking at him rather like a cat looks at a mouse. And for once, he could have cared less.
He looked directly at them. "What do you want?" he asked quietly. Dudley seemed a little frightened. This side of his cousin was new to him, and he seemed a bit more dangerous.
Aunt Petunia smiled. But not at Harry. "It's alright Duddykins, Mommy won't let him hurt you." Dudley's face went red. He seemed to be trying not to shout something. Harry would have found it comical.if he had cared. "For the thousandth time Mother! DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Dudley shouted furiously.
"Now, now son, don't yell at your mother. Boy, we want you to clean the entire house, including Dudley's room, and ours. And wash the windows, and cut the grass. We also want you to give the house a new paint job.it's peeling. As well as wash the dishes and make us some lunch. Then, if you're lucky, you can have some lunch as well." Vernon rattled off. They sat in silence for a moment or two, waiting for some type of protest from him. Harry made none. He shrugged and turned away to get started. They watched him go not sure what to say.
Much later that night, Harry was finally finished. He lay down on his bed, too tired to bother with Remus's letter. Maybe tomorrow he'd owl him. Remus at least, seemed to understand.
It seemed like only seconds later when he was roused from his bed by an incessant beating on his door. "Get up! There's work to be done! You need to redo it all, it wasn't done correctly!" his Aunt Petunia screeched on her way down the hall. Harry rubbed his eyes and put his glasses on. He tiredly swung his legs over the side of the bed, and went to find some paper. At last he found some, and placed it gently on the desk. He got out a quill and began writing.
Remus, Yes, I'm just fine. I've just been busy, that's all. Don't worry, my relatives are treating me fine. I'm sorry that Sirius died, but, as you said, he's happy now, I'm sure. I miss him. Don't come and get me, I'd rather stay here. It's boring at frimmauld Place. Tell everyone I'm just fine.
Love, Harry Then, looking around the room for Hedwig, he found her in her cage. He walked over and opened the door slightly wider. Hedwig woke with a soft hoot of annoyance. But when he held out the letter, she came out and landed on his arm. He attached the letter and petted her head. She looked at him kindly, if that's possible, and flew out the still open window. Harry shut it behind her.
Harry wandered slowly downstairs and into the kitchen, where everyone was sitting and talking. He noticed that they had no trace of food or dishes on the table and wondered vaguely if they had eaten already. Dudley noticed him first. "Look Mother, he's up!" he told her, as if Harry couldn't hear him.
Petunia glanced at her nephew. "Make breakfast, and don't burn it." She snarled. Everyone then went back to their discussion. Harry took out a pan, and the breakfast ingredients. He felt he should have known this was coming. He made a wonderful breakfast and served it to them, saving nothing for himself.
He then trudged back up to his room to stare at the ceiling again.
Disclaimer: Well, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 1: Harry's Summer
Harry lay on his bed. The silence surrounding him was deafening. Yet he didn't move. He stared at the ceiling, unblinkingly. "Why Sirius? Why not someone else?" he cried quietly. He closed his eyes, trying to blink away the tears. He'd cried enough. Sirius wouldn't want him to act like this. Still, he didn't move.
He heard muffled sounds of movement downstairs. Likely his Uncle Vernon, looking to find a job for him. He turned over and stared aimlessly at the white sheets on his bed. He lifted his head slightly when he heard Hedwig tapping at the window with her beak. He almost didn't bother to get up. But Hedwig's taps became more insistent, and he slowly trudged over to the window. As he unlatched it and slid it open, he realized she would likely have a letter from someone. Someone who didn't care. Not so much as they pretended. How could they care? Sirius wasn't their godfather!
Hedwig hooted softly as she flew in and landed softly on his bed, holding out her leg. He trudged heavily back to the bed and sat down. "BOY!" came the shout from downstairs. He ignored it. As he untied the letter, there came the sound of feet on the staircase. Hedwig flew out the open window. He slowly opened the letter; completely ignoring his uncle's continued shouts and the nearing footfalls.
He sighed when he saw the writing in the letter. It was Lupin. Again.
Harry, How are you holding up? Doing well I hope? Everyone sends their greetings, though I know you likely don't want to hear it. I would like to hear from you Harry, everyone is getting worried. If you don't send us a response soon, we will have to come and get you. Much as I regret to have to disturb your mourning, I know it is best to have someone to talk to. I miss him too Harry, but I know he was happiest to go that way. Please don't blame yourself, I realize this may be hard for you, but don't. Please, write me back. If no one else, I really want to hear from you. This grows increasingly hard to write, as I don't know what you're going through. The person I lost may be the same as you, but he meant something different to me than he did to you. Are your relatives treating you all right? Not abusing you I hope?
Love, Remus Lupin
The door slammed open as he finished the letter. Uncle Vernon stood in the doorway, his face purple. Harry dropped the letter on the ground and stared blankly at him. "What?" he asked quietly. "WHAT? WHAT? I YELL FOR YOU, AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU IGNORE ME! THAT'S WHAT! THAT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED! I WANT TO SEE YOU DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW!" Uncle Vernon yelled. Harry did not even blink at the sound. "If you don't want to attract attention, I wouldn't advise yelling. I'm sure the neighbors heard you." Harry told him, using more words at once than his uncle had heard him use all summer. His uncle's face went a darker shade of purple, and he pointed towards the stairs. "Downstairs! Now!" he hissed, in an attempt to keep his voice down. Harry ignored him. He stared at the wall above the door, and ran his fingers through his hair. His uncle marched in and grabbed his arm in a tight grip, jerking him to his feet. "What is your problem?" Uncle Vernon spat angrily, his large purple face only a small space away from Harry's. He shook Harry around a bit, trying to catch his attention. Harry stayed silent. His head shook around, and he could feel bruises forming from Vernon's fingers. But he stayed silent, feeling he deserved the pain.
Vernon dropped him on the ground and stared down at him angrily, wondering why he would not talk. "Boy, come downstairs, your Aunt and Dudley are waiting." He whispered, his voice at a dangerous level. He then stomped off without waiting to see if Harry was listening.
Harry sighed and picked himself up off the floor. He brushed himself off and walked quietly to the door. It had been like this everyday for the whole summer. Of course, Harry did not bother to owl anyone about it, and the Dursleys seemed to know he would not tell, because the beatings only increased.
He paused to look mournfully out the open window, glanced down at Remus's letter, and thought he might write him back. Hermione and Ron had also owled him, though he just threw their letters away, not wanting to hear what fun they were having. They didn't understand, no one did.
Then he walked slowly out the door and down the stairs to where his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon waited. He could hear Dudley whining to his father about having to stay at home today, but Vernon would have none of it.
He paused at the foot of the stairs, completely unnoticed, and surveyed the scene. They didn't seem to be too angry, so he assumed they would be assigning him another pointless task so they could laugh at him and slap him around when he did it wrong. He was almost sorry they weren't mad, it would have been better.
"BOY?! WHAT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG?" Uncle Vernon shouted. Harry drug himself out to the living room where his relatives waited. They all seemed to be looking at him rather like a cat looks at a mouse. And for once, he could have cared less.
He looked directly at them. "What do you want?" he asked quietly. Dudley seemed a little frightened. This side of his cousin was new to him, and he seemed a bit more dangerous.
Aunt Petunia smiled. But not at Harry. "It's alright Duddykins, Mommy won't let him hurt you." Dudley's face went red. He seemed to be trying not to shout something. Harry would have found it comical.if he had cared. "For the thousandth time Mother! DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Dudley shouted furiously.
"Now, now son, don't yell at your mother. Boy, we want you to clean the entire house, including Dudley's room, and ours. And wash the windows, and cut the grass. We also want you to give the house a new paint job.it's peeling. As well as wash the dishes and make us some lunch. Then, if you're lucky, you can have some lunch as well." Vernon rattled off. They sat in silence for a moment or two, waiting for some type of protest from him. Harry made none. He shrugged and turned away to get started. They watched him go not sure what to say.
Much later that night, Harry was finally finished. He lay down on his bed, too tired to bother with Remus's letter. Maybe tomorrow he'd owl him. Remus at least, seemed to understand.
It seemed like only seconds later when he was roused from his bed by an incessant beating on his door. "Get up! There's work to be done! You need to redo it all, it wasn't done correctly!" his Aunt Petunia screeched on her way down the hall. Harry rubbed his eyes and put his glasses on. He tiredly swung his legs over the side of the bed, and went to find some paper. At last he found some, and placed it gently on the desk. He got out a quill and began writing.
Remus, Yes, I'm just fine. I've just been busy, that's all. Don't worry, my relatives are treating me fine. I'm sorry that Sirius died, but, as you said, he's happy now, I'm sure. I miss him. Don't come and get me, I'd rather stay here. It's boring at frimmauld Place. Tell everyone I'm just fine.
Love, Harry Then, looking around the room for Hedwig, he found her in her cage. He walked over and opened the door slightly wider. Hedwig woke with a soft hoot of annoyance. But when he held out the letter, she came out and landed on his arm. He attached the letter and petted her head. She looked at him kindly, if that's possible, and flew out the still open window. Harry shut it behind her.
Harry wandered slowly downstairs and into the kitchen, where everyone was sitting and talking. He noticed that they had no trace of food or dishes on the table and wondered vaguely if they had eaten already. Dudley noticed him first. "Look Mother, he's up!" he told her, as if Harry couldn't hear him.
Petunia glanced at her nephew. "Make breakfast, and don't burn it." She snarled. Everyone then went back to their discussion. Harry took out a pan, and the breakfast ingredients. He felt he should have known this was coming. He made a wonderful breakfast and served it to them, saving nothing for himself.
He then trudged back up to his room to stare at the ceiling again.