Chapter Two:
Something Familiar
Harry lay on a park bench, just relaxing. His summer was nearly over, but it seemed like much more time had passed. But then again, this didn't seem that strange to him. He only had five days until his return to King's Cross Station, and he couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to return less. Sure, it would be better to be around his own kind, but that would mean that he would have to face it, have to accept it.
Harry shook himself at the thought, and sat straight up. He looked across the park, which was almost deserted. He saw some ways off that little Mark Evans boy Dudley used to beat up.There was something strange about that kid, that was for sure. He was really short for his age, but then again, so was Harry. He didn't dwell on this, though, because he decided to get up and go to the house and pack. But as he was walking, he felt like someone was watching him. It was the same feeling he had gotten back in the alleyway just before his third year, but it had been Sirius who was watching him, and he doubted that was who it was now.
Harry spun around and saw, much to his amazement, Mark Evans. He had apparently sent off his friends, but why was he trying to talk to Harry? He attempted to act like he hadn't seen him, but it was too late.
"Alright there, Harry?"
Not knowing or caring how the little boy knew his name, Harry merely mumbled a quiet, "Yea." Really, Mark could only be about ten or eleven years old, why was he hanging around him?
There was a moment of awkward silence, with only the sound of their feet hitting the sidewalk. Harry noticed that Mark was staring at his pocket, then, realizing why, instinctively pulled his t-shirt down over the top of his wand. Hopefully, he didn't notice.
"I know what that is."
Harry cursed himself for being so careless, and took a deep breath, trying to look as if he didn't know what the child was talking about. Lucky for Harry, they had arrived at his aunt and uncle's house. He made for the front pathway, but Mark kept talking to him.
"You live with your cousin's parents, yea?"
Harry frowned slightly, and nodded. "Never knew my parents."
"Yeah, well, I know how that is."
Harry hadn't had any clue that Mark's parents had died, and said apologetically, "Oh. Er, I'm sorry."
Mark gave a weak smile and said, "Don't be. I never met them. They weren't ever even married, I don't think, that's why I've got me mum's last name."
Mark moved under the porch light. This was the first time Harry had ever gotten a good look at him. He looked strangely familiar, and with a jolt, he saw that they had almost identical, almond shaped green eyes. His stomach clenched as he noticed another strange resemblance.
Mark noticed him staring. "What?" he accused.
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled, averting his gaze, "You just reminded me of someone I knew."
Harry thought about this momentarily, but then he stopped when Mark said his goodbyes and took off. There was definitely something strange about that boy.
Harry went inside and straight up to his room, but looking around, saw that it would take him a while to pack, and went back downstairs. He was looking for a snack to munch on when his uncle entered the room. He had been dreading this moment for nearly the entire summer, but couldn't think of a better time to ask him.
"Er, Uncle Vernon?"
His uncle merely grunted in his direction.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Harry's words seemed to be getting more and more difficult to say.
"Er, could you, uh, give me a ride to the train station on Sunday?"
Vernon Dursley looked at his nephew, sizing him up. Harry knew his answer would be long thought of and calculated. Vernon knew his nephew couldn't get there without his help; he had a shrewd idea of the trouble he had gotten in last summer for using that godforsaken bit of wood. No, Harry was completely under his control.
His uncle smiled. Harry prepared himself for the worst. And that is exactly what he got.
"I don't think so. No, definitely not."
Harry tried to shrug it off, but he didn't know how he was going to get to the Hogwarts Express. Or, for that matter, buy his new school supplies. There was a whole list of them that arrived only the day before, along with his O.W.L. scores. He had done surprisingly well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and much to his surprise, Potions. Harry had received and 'O' in both. He had a feeling that there had been at least some persuading done for Snape to give him such an excellent grade, but he was entirely grateful. He had also received 'E's in Transfiguration and Charms, but an 'A' in both Divination and Astronomy and a 'P' in History of Magic. However, Harry hadn't been expecting much from History of Magic; he had fallen asleep in the middle and hadn't been able to finish hardly any of it.
Harry went up to his room once more, thinking desperately of what he could do. He wrote letters to everyone he knew asking for help or possible ideas. Well, save for Dumbledore. Somehow, he just didn't have the urge to ask him for help.
After writing the letters, he sent them off with Hedwig, who looked only too delighted to have another journey. Harry gave her a soft pet and let her out the window. He watched her soar away into the darkness, and then turned to face his room after she had disappeared. It was a right mess.
There were clothes everywhere; draped over chairs, stuffed under the wardrobe, and just lying, scattered on the floor. He made to pick them up. After he had stuffed them all in a laundry basket, he took them to the washer. If he was going to find a way to get to school, he might as well be wearing clean clothes.
After the wash was done, Harry took all of it over to his trunk and dropped it in. He only bothered to fold his robes; everything else used to be Dudley's, so it was obviously already wrinkled and there was no point in trying to maintain them. Harry had considered buying his own muggle clothes, but seeing as all of his money was in Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, it would have been extremely difficult. He suddenly realized that his aunt and uncle still had no idea that he had his own money, much less his own vault to store it in. He smiled, cherishing the secret.
Harry flopped down on his bed, and fell straight asleep.
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Suddenly there were voices. Sirius looked around, trying to find out which direction they were coming from. They seemed to be reverberating off of everything. Then, he realized, there were bodies to go along with the voices, but they didn't seem entirely whole. His first thought was ghosts. But they couldn't be. He had seen a ghost before. Many, in fact. He was about to ask the nearest what they were when one of them spoke.
Harry lay on a park bench, just relaxing. His summer was nearly over, but it seemed like much more time had passed. But then again, this didn't seem that strange to him. He only had five days until his return to King's Cross Station, and he couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to return less. Sure, it would be better to be around his own kind, but that would mean that he would have to face it, have to accept it.
Harry shook himself at the thought, and sat straight up. He looked across the park, which was almost deserted. He saw some ways off that little Mark Evans boy Dudley used to beat up.There was something strange about that kid, that was for sure. He was really short for his age, but then again, so was Harry. He didn't dwell on this, though, because he decided to get up and go to the house and pack. But as he was walking, he felt like someone was watching him. It was the same feeling he had gotten back in the alleyway just before his third year, but it had been Sirius who was watching him, and he doubted that was who it was now.
Harry spun around and saw, much to his amazement, Mark Evans. He had apparently sent off his friends, but why was he trying to talk to Harry? He attempted to act like he hadn't seen him, but it was too late.
"Alright there, Harry?"
Not knowing or caring how the little boy knew his name, Harry merely mumbled a quiet, "Yea." Really, Mark could only be about ten or eleven years old, why was he hanging around him?
There was a moment of awkward silence, with only the sound of their feet hitting the sidewalk. Harry noticed that Mark was staring at his pocket, then, realizing why, instinctively pulled his t-shirt down over the top of his wand. Hopefully, he didn't notice.
"I know what that is."
Harry cursed himself for being so careless, and took a deep breath, trying to look as if he didn't know what the child was talking about. Lucky for Harry, they had arrived at his aunt and uncle's house. He made for the front pathway, but Mark kept talking to him.
"You live with your cousin's parents, yea?"
Harry frowned slightly, and nodded. "Never knew my parents."
"Yeah, well, I know how that is."
Harry hadn't had any clue that Mark's parents had died, and said apologetically, "Oh. Er, I'm sorry."
Mark gave a weak smile and said, "Don't be. I never met them. They weren't ever even married, I don't think, that's why I've got me mum's last name."
Mark moved under the porch light. This was the first time Harry had ever gotten a good look at him. He looked strangely familiar, and with a jolt, he saw that they had almost identical, almond shaped green eyes. His stomach clenched as he noticed another strange resemblance.
Mark noticed him staring. "What?" he accused.
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled, averting his gaze, "You just reminded me of someone I knew."
Harry thought about this momentarily, but then he stopped when Mark said his goodbyes and took off. There was definitely something strange about that boy.
Harry went inside and straight up to his room, but looking around, saw that it would take him a while to pack, and went back downstairs. He was looking for a snack to munch on when his uncle entered the room. He had been dreading this moment for nearly the entire summer, but couldn't think of a better time to ask him.
"Er, Uncle Vernon?"
His uncle merely grunted in his direction.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Harry's words seemed to be getting more and more difficult to say.
"Er, could you, uh, give me a ride to the train station on Sunday?"
Vernon Dursley looked at his nephew, sizing him up. Harry knew his answer would be long thought of and calculated. Vernon knew his nephew couldn't get there without his help; he had a shrewd idea of the trouble he had gotten in last summer for using that godforsaken bit of wood. No, Harry was completely under his control.
His uncle smiled. Harry prepared himself for the worst. And that is exactly what he got.
"I don't think so. No, definitely not."
Harry tried to shrug it off, but he didn't know how he was going to get to the Hogwarts Express. Or, for that matter, buy his new school supplies. There was a whole list of them that arrived only the day before, along with his O.W.L. scores. He had done surprisingly well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and much to his surprise, Potions. Harry had received and 'O' in both. He had a feeling that there had been at least some persuading done for Snape to give him such an excellent grade, but he was entirely grateful. He had also received 'E's in Transfiguration and Charms, but an 'A' in both Divination and Astronomy and a 'P' in History of Magic. However, Harry hadn't been expecting much from History of Magic; he had fallen asleep in the middle and hadn't been able to finish hardly any of it.
Harry went up to his room once more, thinking desperately of what he could do. He wrote letters to everyone he knew asking for help or possible ideas. Well, save for Dumbledore. Somehow, he just didn't have the urge to ask him for help.
After writing the letters, he sent them off with Hedwig, who looked only too delighted to have another journey. Harry gave her a soft pet and let her out the window. He watched her soar away into the darkness, and then turned to face his room after she had disappeared. It was a right mess.
There were clothes everywhere; draped over chairs, stuffed under the wardrobe, and just lying, scattered on the floor. He made to pick them up. After he had stuffed them all in a laundry basket, he took them to the washer. If he was going to find a way to get to school, he might as well be wearing clean clothes.
After the wash was done, Harry took all of it over to his trunk and dropped it in. He only bothered to fold his robes; everything else used to be Dudley's, so it was obviously already wrinkled and there was no point in trying to maintain them. Harry had considered buying his own muggle clothes, but seeing as all of his money was in Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, it would have been extremely difficult. He suddenly realized that his aunt and uncle still had no idea that he had his own money, much less his own vault to store it in. He smiled, cherishing the secret.
Harry flopped down on his bed, and fell straight asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Suddenly there were voices. Sirius looked around, trying to find out which direction they were coming from. They seemed to be reverberating off of everything. Then, he realized, there were bodies to go along with the voices, but they didn't seem entirely whole. His first thought was ghosts. But they couldn't be. He had seen a ghost before. Many, in fact. He was about to ask the nearest what they were when one of them spoke.