Okay, this is my first fan fiction!
DISCLAIMER: I own no characters (in this chapter) JKR is the only goddess who could own them. I own the plot.
- CHAPTER ONE -
Old Freaks
Harry found himself in a poorly lit room, sitting on a rather spacious chintz arm-chair, his long, thin fingers flexed in front of him, in a somewhat gruesome looking steeple. A very short man was standing in front of Harry, avoiding his eyes. He could only see the top of his head, with its thin, colourless hair that was unkempt with a large bald patch on top. The man risked a glance at Harry. He recognised this man, with his somewhat pointy nose, and small, watery eyes. It was Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed his parents to Voldemort fifteen years ago.
"Your role in this task will be very important, Wormtail," Harry felt himself say, in a cold voice that chilled him. It seemed to have the same effect on Wormtail as well, for he was cowering visibly. "I want you to go to Harry Potter's house, and - " But what exactly Wormtail was to do, he never found out.
Something was taping Harry on the head. He opened his eyes reluctantly, and when he did he yelped in surprise at the sight of Hedwig's large amber eyes staring back at him. He rubbed his prickling scar as he picked up his glasses, and untied the letter from the snowy owl's leg.
Harry,
How are you? I mean really, Harry. We're really worried about you, after Sirius' death. Do you get the Daily Prophet? Apparently the front page today is going to pardon Sirius of all charges, and he's being awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. I think they are going to give it to you, though, since you are the only person who is "related" to him, that's alive, and not insane.
Percy still hasn't apologised for last year, and Mrs Weasley is trying to talk Mr Weasley into talking to him at work. Ron says that she's taken to bursting into tears randomly, these days. She's really scared for you, her family, and me. I can't really blame her.
We want you to know that even though we may not have experienced everything you have, we are still here for you. Don't be afraid to send us an owl, if you need anything. Anything at all.
We will see you sometime after your birthday, probably.
Lots of Love,
Hermione
PS: I mean it too, Harry, you know you can talk to me Harry.
Ron
Harry sighed. He had been wondering when letters such as these were going to begin. They had managed to hold back for one whole week after term. He knew that Hermione and Ron had his best interests at heart, but he really didn't need them to worry about him. He thought of Sirius, and the usual pang of guilt and internal pain gripped him. His heart pounded against his chest and tears began to roll silently down his face. He was slightly comforted by the thought that he would, in fact, see him again, just not during this life. He wiped the tears from his eyes as he stood to write his reply. Before he could make it to his desk, a barn owl flew in through the open window. It dropped the Daily Prophet on his desk, landed, and then held out its leg for Harry to insert his three Knuts into its pouch. It took off leaving Harry with a feeling of anticipation, at what Hermione had said about Sirius. His heart thudded again. He picked up the Prophet and chucked it onto his bed, he'd read it later, he decided.
The parchment beckoned to Harry, his hand itched to grab that quill and tell Hermione everything he was feeling about Sirius, how much he missed him, how guilty he felt about his death. He wanted to tell them to come and get him now, away from the Dursleys, who even after the threat of Moody, Tonks, Mr Weasley and Lupin were still not treating him as if he were their relative. At the thought of Lupin Harry had the urge to write to him too. He wanted to find out everything about Sirius and his parents that only Lupin could know. He wanted to tell them about the dreams he had been having, and he wanted to ask someone to help him with occlumency. But he couldn't bring himself to do any writing. Not yet, anyway. He stroked Hedwig absent-mindedly for a minute or two, and then he went downstairs to get some breakfast.
***
Harry leapt down the stairs enthusiastically. He kept his gaze on the ground as he stalked into the kitchen and started to make breakfast.
"Hello Harry Potter." His jaw dropped. He turned around slowly, feeling slightly nauseous. He was sure that he had just heard Dumbledore's voice, calm and reassuring. He looked at the person sitting at the table. Sure enough, Professor Dumbledore was sitting in his kitchen, wearing his favourite purple robes and purple hat. His eyes were sparkling and his thin lips curled into a slight smile.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry spluttered after ten seconds of silence. "What are you doing here?" He sat down slowly in the chair opposite Dumbledore, confused and in shock.
"I've come to talk to your Aunt and Uncle and," he smiled. "Of course yourself, about continuing with your occlumency lessons, and the implications of Voldmort's return."
Harry nodded numbly.
"I also would like to discuss Sirius," the old man stated simply, letting a tear slide down his wrinkled cheek. Harry stiffened as the usual pain thudded in his chest. "I know that it's hard for you to talk about him, but not talking about it will tear you apart. It already is. I see you, even as I speak, stiffening at the mention of him, and I can only guess what the pain is like inside of you. An icy grip around your heart? Or perhaps the stalagmite of ice continuously stabs you in the chest? This pain that you feel, will never leave completely, but it will gradually become more dull, and you will only feel it when you want to feel the pain."
Harry had begun to cry again, but he wasn't aware of it, he was holding onto every single word that Dumbledore spoke.
"Harry, I'm -" Dumbledore was interrupted by Petunia screaming.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" She shrieked at Dumbledore, pointing at him rudely. She was extremely pale and her eyes were cold with hatred.
"Petunia," Dumbledore cooed calmly, standing and moving towards her.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU.... FREAK!"
"Now, really Petunia, do you want to alert your neighbours?" He asked her, while drawing out a chair for her manually.
**************************************************************************** *******
PLZ R/R! I need some feedback!
DISCLAIMER: I own no characters (in this chapter) JKR is the only goddess who could own them. I own the plot.
- CHAPTER ONE -
Old Freaks
Harry found himself in a poorly lit room, sitting on a rather spacious chintz arm-chair, his long, thin fingers flexed in front of him, in a somewhat gruesome looking steeple. A very short man was standing in front of Harry, avoiding his eyes. He could only see the top of his head, with its thin, colourless hair that was unkempt with a large bald patch on top. The man risked a glance at Harry. He recognised this man, with his somewhat pointy nose, and small, watery eyes. It was Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed his parents to Voldemort fifteen years ago.
"Your role in this task will be very important, Wormtail," Harry felt himself say, in a cold voice that chilled him. It seemed to have the same effect on Wormtail as well, for he was cowering visibly. "I want you to go to Harry Potter's house, and - " But what exactly Wormtail was to do, he never found out.
Something was taping Harry on the head. He opened his eyes reluctantly, and when he did he yelped in surprise at the sight of Hedwig's large amber eyes staring back at him. He rubbed his prickling scar as he picked up his glasses, and untied the letter from the snowy owl's leg.
Harry,
How are you? I mean really, Harry. We're really worried about you, after Sirius' death. Do you get the Daily Prophet? Apparently the front page today is going to pardon Sirius of all charges, and he's being awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. I think they are going to give it to you, though, since you are the only person who is "related" to him, that's alive, and not insane.
Percy still hasn't apologised for last year, and Mrs Weasley is trying to talk Mr Weasley into talking to him at work. Ron says that she's taken to bursting into tears randomly, these days. She's really scared for you, her family, and me. I can't really blame her.
We want you to know that even though we may not have experienced everything you have, we are still here for you. Don't be afraid to send us an owl, if you need anything. Anything at all.
We will see you sometime after your birthday, probably.
Lots of Love,
Hermione
PS: I mean it too, Harry, you know you can talk to me Harry.
Ron
Harry sighed. He had been wondering when letters such as these were going to begin. They had managed to hold back for one whole week after term. He knew that Hermione and Ron had his best interests at heart, but he really didn't need them to worry about him. He thought of Sirius, and the usual pang of guilt and internal pain gripped him. His heart pounded against his chest and tears began to roll silently down his face. He was slightly comforted by the thought that he would, in fact, see him again, just not during this life. He wiped the tears from his eyes as he stood to write his reply. Before he could make it to his desk, a barn owl flew in through the open window. It dropped the Daily Prophet on his desk, landed, and then held out its leg for Harry to insert his three Knuts into its pouch. It took off leaving Harry with a feeling of anticipation, at what Hermione had said about Sirius. His heart thudded again. He picked up the Prophet and chucked it onto his bed, he'd read it later, he decided.
The parchment beckoned to Harry, his hand itched to grab that quill and tell Hermione everything he was feeling about Sirius, how much he missed him, how guilty he felt about his death. He wanted to tell them to come and get him now, away from the Dursleys, who even after the threat of Moody, Tonks, Mr Weasley and Lupin were still not treating him as if he were their relative. At the thought of Lupin Harry had the urge to write to him too. He wanted to find out everything about Sirius and his parents that only Lupin could know. He wanted to tell them about the dreams he had been having, and he wanted to ask someone to help him with occlumency. But he couldn't bring himself to do any writing. Not yet, anyway. He stroked Hedwig absent-mindedly for a minute or two, and then he went downstairs to get some breakfast.
***
Harry leapt down the stairs enthusiastically. He kept his gaze on the ground as he stalked into the kitchen and started to make breakfast.
"Hello Harry Potter." His jaw dropped. He turned around slowly, feeling slightly nauseous. He was sure that he had just heard Dumbledore's voice, calm and reassuring. He looked at the person sitting at the table. Sure enough, Professor Dumbledore was sitting in his kitchen, wearing his favourite purple robes and purple hat. His eyes were sparkling and his thin lips curled into a slight smile.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry spluttered after ten seconds of silence. "What are you doing here?" He sat down slowly in the chair opposite Dumbledore, confused and in shock.
"I've come to talk to your Aunt and Uncle and," he smiled. "Of course yourself, about continuing with your occlumency lessons, and the implications of Voldmort's return."
Harry nodded numbly.
"I also would like to discuss Sirius," the old man stated simply, letting a tear slide down his wrinkled cheek. Harry stiffened as the usual pain thudded in his chest. "I know that it's hard for you to talk about him, but not talking about it will tear you apart. It already is. I see you, even as I speak, stiffening at the mention of him, and I can only guess what the pain is like inside of you. An icy grip around your heart? Or perhaps the stalagmite of ice continuously stabs you in the chest? This pain that you feel, will never leave completely, but it will gradually become more dull, and you will only feel it when you want to feel the pain."
Harry had begun to cry again, but he wasn't aware of it, he was holding onto every single word that Dumbledore spoke.
"Harry, I'm -" Dumbledore was interrupted by Petunia screaming.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" She shrieked at Dumbledore, pointing at him rudely. She was extremely pale and her eyes were cold with hatred.
"Petunia," Dumbledore cooed calmly, standing and moving towards her.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU.... FREAK!"
"Now, really Petunia, do you want to alert your neighbours?" He asked her, while drawing out a chair for her manually.
**************************************************************************** *******
PLZ R/R! I need some feedback!