Chapter 1 - Harry's Heat
The sky was a bright, pail blue with hardly a wisp of cloud to be seen anywhere on its horizons. Almost the whole of England was enjoying the best weather the summer had to offer as millions of people sat in deck chairs, swam in pools or fanning themselves under the shade of a large umbrella. Likewise almost of whole population of Privite Drive, Surrey, were out in force enjoying the heat. People had set out tables and chairs all along the road, and were walking backwards and forward to meet and greet their neighbours. Even people from the surrounding streets had come to join in. An elderly woman from a few streets down by the name of Mrs Figg was wondering merrily between house 2 and 6, glancing around at all the stools, umbrellas and, in her opinion, over revealing summer wear.
'Look at her,' exclaimed Petunia Dursley from underneath her very large, baby blue umbrella 'nosing around other peoples streets, trying to get in on other peoples gossips. Disgraceful.'
'Umm.' Replied her husband. Vernon Dursley knew only to well that, given the opportunity, Petunia would be doing exactly the same thing, if it wasn't for the fact that the rest of the population of Privite Drive didn't know better than to let her in on private information.
'And what does she keep looking over here for? Oh hello Mrs Figg, keeping well I trust?'
'Oh, can't complain, this weathers far better for me than that damned cold winter just past. How's you and yours?' replied Mrs Figg. Her voice was warm enough, but she spoke a little faster than was natural. To anyone listening in, it would have sounded like she was in a hurry.
'Alls well this end Arabella,' Petunia Dursley continued, 'everyone's out enjoying the sun.'
'Everyone? I didn't see anyone leave' Mrs Figg exclaimed, and scuttled off.
'See, mad as a hatter,' tutted Petunia, 'darling promise you'll do something if I ever get that skatty. Oh Vernon, turn over, you'll burn'
Vernon Dursley heaved his great mass up onto his elbows and flumped over onto his front where he promptly fell back into the snooze he has been enjoying so peacefully while his wife had been talking.
* Back in the Dursley's house, number 4, Privite drive however, all was not well. A boy, nearly 16 years of age was lying on the floor of his darkened bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. He had not moved for well over half an hour now, and he had no plans to move for a very long time. A knock came at Harry's door, and seconds later his cousin Dudley stormed in. even through his confusion and bitterness Harry had managed to register one thing about Dudley since his arrival back in Privite Drive for the summer, Dudley was actually thinner. He supposed that the combination of the now 2-yearlong diet and Dudley's love for boxing had actually done him some good. It hadn't made him any nicer however.
'Oi! Vampire! What the hell are you still doing up here?! Enjoying the pleasure of your own company?' Dudley laughed sardonically. Harry swore at him in such a way that, had he been thinking about it, he would have been sure Hermione would have slapped him for. Dudley grinned.
'Ohh, where did you learn language like that?' he asked in mock offence. 'Daddy would love to know where a little arse like you learnt it from.' Harry opened his eyes, deciding Dudley was unlikely to go away just now, it must be to hot, or he needed someone to push around now that most of his friends were off on holiday.
'I learnt it from you, you fat f.' but he was interrupted just then, by what seemed like a small explosion in his curtains. 'Bugger.' Harry exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and as he did so, he heard his bedroom door slam as Dudley threw it closed on his way out. Harry leapt over to the curtains and after a few moments struggling and untangling, he extracted a large, white snowy owl, not unlike his own Hedwig, who was at that moment out delivering a message to his friend Ron.
'Let's see who your from this time' he mused to the owl as he pulled the message out from its place on the birds leg. He threw the envelope over onto a pile on his floor that had been growing ever since his return, open the letter, and read what was unmistakably the need scratching's of Hermione's handwriting.
Dear Harry,
Its been a few days since my last letter so I hope your feeling better than you have been so far this summer. I know that Sirius's death was hard for you Harry but I can't help but think that there is something more your not telling us. I also know that I've mentioned this in almost every letter, and I must sound like the most terrible nag. You said that you wanted time to yourself, and I respect that, I know I love time to myself when my parents are out, but I suppose that's different. Anyway, I think that you've had plenty of time to muse and stew and I believe that it would do you some good to spend some time with people you know, and who care about you. I had a row with Ron via owl yesterday so I don't think I'll be going to his house this summer. It's a shame because his mum makes the best food and I would have loved to see Fred and George, but I suppose that isn't going to happen now. I would still really like to see you this summer though Harry, so I was thinking. Would it be possible for you to come and visit me for a few days, maybe over your birthday? I don't think security would be a problem, no doubt the Order has been keeping watch over you, and I think they might be tailing me as well now, but I can't be curtain, I keep hearing apperation pops every now and again. You've never seen my house have you Harry, I could show you round where I live, it's lovely, and full of interesting magical history. Anyway, let me know as soon as possible, but maybe you should ask Dumbledore first. That's if you want to come here, I understand if you wanted to go to Ron's house instead.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Your loving friend,
Hermione
Harry pondered the letter for a few minutes, pacing his room in much the same way he had the previous summer. 'Maybe I should go,' he said to the empty room, 'the littler of the Dursley's I see the better. What about Ron's though?' a second voice spoke up inside his mind that sounded a lot like Remus Lupin's voice 'Think how many people would be there, do you really want to be surrounded by that many faces. Mrs Weasley would fuss, and Mr Weasley would be bringing home all that information on the war against Voldamort, do you want the stress?'
'No' he replied, making up his mind. He would write a letter to Hermione asking her when he could come.
The sky was a bright, pail blue with hardly a wisp of cloud to be seen anywhere on its horizons. Almost the whole of England was enjoying the best weather the summer had to offer as millions of people sat in deck chairs, swam in pools or fanning themselves under the shade of a large umbrella. Likewise almost of whole population of Privite Drive, Surrey, were out in force enjoying the heat. People had set out tables and chairs all along the road, and were walking backwards and forward to meet and greet their neighbours. Even people from the surrounding streets had come to join in. An elderly woman from a few streets down by the name of Mrs Figg was wondering merrily between house 2 and 6, glancing around at all the stools, umbrellas and, in her opinion, over revealing summer wear.
'Look at her,' exclaimed Petunia Dursley from underneath her very large, baby blue umbrella 'nosing around other peoples streets, trying to get in on other peoples gossips. Disgraceful.'
'Umm.' Replied her husband. Vernon Dursley knew only to well that, given the opportunity, Petunia would be doing exactly the same thing, if it wasn't for the fact that the rest of the population of Privite Drive didn't know better than to let her in on private information.
'And what does she keep looking over here for? Oh hello Mrs Figg, keeping well I trust?'
'Oh, can't complain, this weathers far better for me than that damned cold winter just past. How's you and yours?' replied Mrs Figg. Her voice was warm enough, but she spoke a little faster than was natural. To anyone listening in, it would have sounded like she was in a hurry.
'Alls well this end Arabella,' Petunia Dursley continued, 'everyone's out enjoying the sun.'
'Everyone? I didn't see anyone leave' Mrs Figg exclaimed, and scuttled off.
'See, mad as a hatter,' tutted Petunia, 'darling promise you'll do something if I ever get that skatty. Oh Vernon, turn over, you'll burn'
Vernon Dursley heaved his great mass up onto his elbows and flumped over onto his front where he promptly fell back into the snooze he has been enjoying so peacefully while his wife had been talking.
* Back in the Dursley's house, number 4, Privite drive however, all was not well. A boy, nearly 16 years of age was lying on the floor of his darkened bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. He had not moved for well over half an hour now, and he had no plans to move for a very long time. A knock came at Harry's door, and seconds later his cousin Dudley stormed in. even through his confusion and bitterness Harry had managed to register one thing about Dudley since his arrival back in Privite Drive for the summer, Dudley was actually thinner. He supposed that the combination of the now 2-yearlong diet and Dudley's love for boxing had actually done him some good. It hadn't made him any nicer however.
'Oi! Vampire! What the hell are you still doing up here?! Enjoying the pleasure of your own company?' Dudley laughed sardonically. Harry swore at him in such a way that, had he been thinking about it, he would have been sure Hermione would have slapped him for. Dudley grinned.
'Ohh, where did you learn language like that?' he asked in mock offence. 'Daddy would love to know where a little arse like you learnt it from.' Harry opened his eyes, deciding Dudley was unlikely to go away just now, it must be to hot, or he needed someone to push around now that most of his friends were off on holiday.
'I learnt it from you, you fat f.' but he was interrupted just then, by what seemed like a small explosion in his curtains. 'Bugger.' Harry exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and as he did so, he heard his bedroom door slam as Dudley threw it closed on his way out. Harry leapt over to the curtains and after a few moments struggling and untangling, he extracted a large, white snowy owl, not unlike his own Hedwig, who was at that moment out delivering a message to his friend Ron.
'Let's see who your from this time' he mused to the owl as he pulled the message out from its place on the birds leg. He threw the envelope over onto a pile on his floor that had been growing ever since his return, open the letter, and read what was unmistakably the need scratching's of Hermione's handwriting.
Dear Harry,
Its been a few days since my last letter so I hope your feeling better than you have been so far this summer. I know that Sirius's death was hard for you Harry but I can't help but think that there is something more your not telling us. I also know that I've mentioned this in almost every letter, and I must sound like the most terrible nag. You said that you wanted time to yourself, and I respect that, I know I love time to myself when my parents are out, but I suppose that's different. Anyway, I think that you've had plenty of time to muse and stew and I believe that it would do you some good to spend some time with people you know, and who care about you. I had a row with Ron via owl yesterday so I don't think I'll be going to his house this summer. It's a shame because his mum makes the best food and I would have loved to see Fred and George, but I suppose that isn't going to happen now. I would still really like to see you this summer though Harry, so I was thinking. Would it be possible for you to come and visit me for a few days, maybe over your birthday? I don't think security would be a problem, no doubt the Order has been keeping watch over you, and I think they might be tailing me as well now, but I can't be curtain, I keep hearing apperation pops every now and again. You've never seen my house have you Harry, I could show you round where I live, it's lovely, and full of interesting magical history. Anyway, let me know as soon as possible, but maybe you should ask Dumbledore first. That's if you want to come here, I understand if you wanted to go to Ron's house instead.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Your loving friend,
Hermione
Harry pondered the letter for a few minutes, pacing his room in much the same way he had the previous summer. 'Maybe I should go,' he said to the empty room, 'the littler of the Dursley's I see the better. What about Ron's though?' a second voice spoke up inside his mind that sounded a lot like Remus Lupin's voice 'Think how many people would be there, do you really want to be surrounded by that many faces. Mrs Weasley would fuss, and Mr Weasley would be bringing home all that information on the war against Voldamort, do you want the stress?'
'No' he replied, making up his mind. He would write a letter to Hermione asking her when he could come.