Tourniquet: by Lady Obsidian
PG-13 (just to be safe)
Spoilers: Books 1-5 (Don't read this unless you have read OotP)
Summary: Harry Potter's life has gone in a downward spiral after the events at the Ministry. It is the summer after fifth year and he is back at the Dursley's with wounds of every sort. But he wants something; he just hasn't figured that part out yet.
A/N: I sadly don't own any of the HP characters I have blatantly stolen and slandered the character identities of, except for Tora and her mother that I shall be introducing later. But I had fun doing it, and I am as penniless as when I started this. Reviews and flames are welcome, but if you do chose to flame my story, leave your name, don't be a spineless coward with no valor. And if this story seems familiar, it is. I wrote this and then began posting it under my beta's account as The Letters. But now I am posting it under my own account and decided to change the title when I reposted it.
~ "Quotations denotes speech", 'single quotes' denote thoughts. ~
Chapter 1: The Letter & Reply
A lone teenage boy of sixteen with a messy mop of black hair and glasses sat on a hilltop all alone. Below him, an empty park sat with rusted swings and old rickety slides. An old rusted merry-go-round sat at the centre of the antique park lopsided and dented from time and generations of laughing children. Harry discovered the park last summer holiday in an effort to escape from the Dursley's. Evidently, Dudley and his little gang missed the small park in their ravaging ways. Harry found himself at this site wanting solitude. The feelings of being utterly alone had plagued him ever since Sirius' death. It was as though a huge hole had been ripped into his life and nothing seemed to fill that empty space; not even his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. That was the reason he, the boy-who- lived, was sitting at the top of a hill, alone. It mimicked how his life was isolated and alone.
At the end of the term, Harry had been more than reluctant to leave school. The thought of spending yet another abysmal summer with the Dursleys was enough to send his stomach churning. Dumbledore had reassured Harry that it was only for a month's time; then he was free to go spend the rest of the summer holidays at the Burrow with Ron. The more he thought of leaving for the Burrow, the more he did not want to go there. They would all tread lightly around him, he knew it was a given even though they meant well. They made him feel as if he was made of glass, and he hated that. He wasn't going to break, really he wasn't. Harry just wanted to be treated like a normal person. Like before. Now everything changed. He wasn't too fond of the change that was for sure. He just wanted one person, just one, to treat him like he was human, not some china doll. Even the Headmaster was overprotective of him.
Harry sighed in frustration, and pushed his damp hair off his forehead. He really wasn't asking all that much, was he? "Somebody, please help me," he muttered darkly.
Suddenly a huge, black owl swooped down and landed on a patch of green grass next to him. He reached out and stroked the owl's head. He didn't recognize it one bit. Who would own an owl like this? No one he knew short of Malfoy, but surely, Malfoy wouldn't waste his precious time to write a letter to Harry. The owl held out its leg to Harry. Taking the rolled parchment off, he stroked the owl again.
"You sure are a beautiful owl. I'm sorry, but I don't have any food or anything to give you," he whispered sincerely. The black owl hooted and jumped onto Harry's shoulder. Harry chuckled, and the owl nipped his ear playfully. "Hey!" Harry laughed. But the huge owl launched itself in to the air and was gone, just as quickly as it had appeared.
'Well, that was certainly weird.' Harry got up and started the walk back to the Dursleys. His aunt and uncle had taken Dudley somewhere. He didn't really care where; it was just nice to have them gone. He walked up the stairs to his room and shut the door tightly behind him and locked it out of habit.
He sauntered over to his desk and laid the parchment down. Hedwig fluttered down from the dresser top and perched off to one side. Waiting, it seemed for Harry to read and then write a reply.
"Okay, now we find out who wrote this letter," Harry told Hedwig excitedly. Unrolling the letter, he saw a beautiful script covering the entire scroll. The letter read:
Dear Harry Potter: It is with my deepest regret and deepest sorrow that I pen this letter to you. I am so sorry for your loss. You must feel isolated, alone and hopeless. You must also feel like nobody understands the way you feel inside. The rage boiling within you, the anger simmering beneath the surface, the betrayal you feel deep within you, and even the guilt tearing at you from every side. Sirius was more than just your godfather, Harry. He was your friend, mentor, and even a father of sorts. I knew him very well. He was like a father to me, too. I know he must have never mentioned me to you but he has mentioned you to me. He was so proud of you Harry, surely you must know that. I wanted to write this letter to you in hopes of you responding. I'm in desperate need of a friend who understands the way I feel. The lost of Sirius devastates me. I think this must be the same for you. My owl will stay with you until you decide if you want to write or not. Her name is Tempest, and she was a gift from Sirius. She will know where to find me, if you choose to write, and I sincerely hope that you will. Sincerely, Tora Galloway
Harry finished reading the letter and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was Tempest, perched out on the sill. Harry let her inside and gave her a cracker from his side table and a small saucer of water. He went over to his trunk and rummaged around until he fished out his quills and his spare parchment. Someone had answered his prayers...
~*~*~*~
Harry sat at his desk with Hedwig and Tempest. He lifted his quill and poised it over the parchment and scrolled:
Dear Tora Galloway,
Then he stopped. How was he to respond? What should he say? What to tell her? He twirled the quill between his fingers and thought. She seemed to know him. This Tora Galloway seemed to know the barrage of emotions boiling inside of him. She knew what Hermione and Ron did not. She understood what they could not.
Hadn't she said Sirius had talked about him? What had his godfather told this girl? And when had he seen her? He was supposed to be in hiding at the Grimmauld place, he wasn't allowed visitors was he? Or had Dumbledore bent the rules for him? Sirius had been there by himself for a long time. He certainly deserved some company.
'Bloody hell' he thought. He rubbed his forehead; it ached horribly but not from his scar. That hadn't hurt for ages. The thoughts raced and spun at an unfathomable speed. Setting his quill down, he saw the hands of the clock positioned to the three and the twelve; Uncle Vernon would soon be home. He had to hurry, if only he could think. Could he just tell her the truth? Or would that seem too callous? He decided to try for it, and see how it turned out.
Dear Tora Galloway,
How is it that you know me? I do not mean to sound rude or anything, but how? I have been hoping and praying for someone who understands. And then suddenly to receive an owl with a letter addressed to me from someone who seems to understand everything going on inside of me when even I don't seem to understand it at all seems like a dream.
As absurd as this maybe, I feel as if I know you. Even though I know, I'm positive I have never met you. These things you know, how do you know them? Not even two of my closest friends know these things, these emotions. But they would never understand ever, even if I could express them properly to them. Please help me through this. I do not know where to turn; don't know where to go or who to talk to. I feel like I'm at the end of my road.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
He let the parchment dry and reread it. He reached for Tempest and tied the letter to her leg. She flew from the windowsill and was gone from sight in seconds. Now all he had to do was wait for a reply.
Spoilers: Books 1-5 (Don't read this unless you have read OotP)
Summary: Harry Potter's life has gone in a downward spiral after the events at the Ministry. It is the summer after fifth year and he is back at the Dursley's with wounds of every sort. But he wants something; he just hasn't figured that part out yet.
A/N: I sadly don't own any of the HP characters I have blatantly stolen and slandered the character identities of, except for Tora and her mother that I shall be introducing later. But I had fun doing it, and I am as penniless as when I started this. Reviews and flames are welcome, but if you do chose to flame my story, leave your name, don't be a spineless coward with no valor. And if this story seems familiar, it is. I wrote this and then began posting it under my beta's account as The Letters. But now I am posting it under my own account and decided to change the title when I reposted it.
~ "Quotations denotes speech", 'single quotes' denote thoughts. ~
Chapter 1: The Letter & Reply
A lone teenage boy of sixteen with a messy mop of black hair and glasses sat on a hilltop all alone. Below him, an empty park sat with rusted swings and old rickety slides. An old rusted merry-go-round sat at the centre of the antique park lopsided and dented from time and generations of laughing children. Harry discovered the park last summer holiday in an effort to escape from the Dursley's. Evidently, Dudley and his little gang missed the small park in their ravaging ways. Harry found himself at this site wanting solitude. The feelings of being utterly alone had plagued him ever since Sirius' death. It was as though a huge hole had been ripped into his life and nothing seemed to fill that empty space; not even his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. That was the reason he, the boy-who- lived, was sitting at the top of a hill, alone. It mimicked how his life was isolated and alone.
At the end of the term, Harry had been more than reluctant to leave school. The thought of spending yet another abysmal summer with the Dursleys was enough to send his stomach churning. Dumbledore had reassured Harry that it was only for a month's time; then he was free to go spend the rest of the summer holidays at the Burrow with Ron. The more he thought of leaving for the Burrow, the more he did not want to go there. They would all tread lightly around him, he knew it was a given even though they meant well. They made him feel as if he was made of glass, and he hated that. He wasn't going to break, really he wasn't. Harry just wanted to be treated like a normal person. Like before. Now everything changed. He wasn't too fond of the change that was for sure. He just wanted one person, just one, to treat him like he was human, not some china doll. Even the Headmaster was overprotective of him.
Harry sighed in frustration, and pushed his damp hair off his forehead. He really wasn't asking all that much, was he? "Somebody, please help me," he muttered darkly.
Suddenly a huge, black owl swooped down and landed on a patch of green grass next to him. He reached out and stroked the owl's head. He didn't recognize it one bit. Who would own an owl like this? No one he knew short of Malfoy, but surely, Malfoy wouldn't waste his precious time to write a letter to Harry. The owl held out its leg to Harry. Taking the rolled parchment off, he stroked the owl again.
"You sure are a beautiful owl. I'm sorry, but I don't have any food or anything to give you," he whispered sincerely. The black owl hooted and jumped onto Harry's shoulder. Harry chuckled, and the owl nipped his ear playfully. "Hey!" Harry laughed. But the huge owl launched itself in to the air and was gone, just as quickly as it had appeared.
'Well, that was certainly weird.' Harry got up and started the walk back to the Dursleys. His aunt and uncle had taken Dudley somewhere. He didn't really care where; it was just nice to have them gone. He walked up the stairs to his room and shut the door tightly behind him and locked it out of habit.
He sauntered over to his desk and laid the parchment down. Hedwig fluttered down from the dresser top and perched off to one side. Waiting, it seemed for Harry to read and then write a reply.
"Okay, now we find out who wrote this letter," Harry told Hedwig excitedly. Unrolling the letter, he saw a beautiful script covering the entire scroll. The letter read:
Dear Harry Potter: It is with my deepest regret and deepest sorrow that I pen this letter to you. I am so sorry for your loss. You must feel isolated, alone and hopeless. You must also feel like nobody understands the way you feel inside. The rage boiling within you, the anger simmering beneath the surface, the betrayal you feel deep within you, and even the guilt tearing at you from every side. Sirius was more than just your godfather, Harry. He was your friend, mentor, and even a father of sorts. I knew him very well. He was like a father to me, too. I know he must have never mentioned me to you but he has mentioned you to me. He was so proud of you Harry, surely you must know that. I wanted to write this letter to you in hopes of you responding. I'm in desperate need of a friend who understands the way I feel. The lost of Sirius devastates me. I think this must be the same for you. My owl will stay with you until you decide if you want to write or not. Her name is Tempest, and she was a gift from Sirius. She will know where to find me, if you choose to write, and I sincerely hope that you will. Sincerely, Tora Galloway
Harry finished reading the letter and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was Tempest, perched out on the sill. Harry let her inside and gave her a cracker from his side table and a small saucer of water. He went over to his trunk and rummaged around until he fished out his quills and his spare parchment. Someone had answered his prayers...
~*~*~*~
Harry sat at his desk with Hedwig and Tempest. He lifted his quill and poised it over the parchment and scrolled:
Dear Tora Galloway,
Then he stopped. How was he to respond? What should he say? What to tell her? He twirled the quill between his fingers and thought. She seemed to know him. This Tora Galloway seemed to know the barrage of emotions boiling inside of him. She knew what Hermione and Ron did not. She understood what they could not.
Hadn't she said Sirius had talked about him? What had his godfather told this girl? And when had he seen her? He was supposed to be in hiding at the Grimmauld place, he wasn't allowed visitors was he? Or had Dumbledore bent the rules for him? Sirius had been there by himself for a long time. He certainly deserved some company.
'Bloody hell' he thought. He rubbed his forehead; it ached horribly but not from his scar. That hadn't hurt for ages. The thoughts raced and spun at an unfathomable speed. Setting his quill down, he saw the hands of the clock positioned to the three and the twelve; Uncle Vernon would soon be home. He had to hurry, if only he could think. Could he just tell her the truth? Or would that seem too callous? He decided to try for it, and see how it turned out.
Dear Tora Galloway,
How is it that you know me? I do not mean to sound rude or anything, but how? I have been hoping and praying for someone who understands. And then suddenly to receive an owl with a letter addressed to me from someone who seems to understand everything going on inside of me when even I don't seem to understand it at all seems like a dream.
As absurd as this maybe, I feel as if I know you. Even though I know, I'm positive I have never met you. These things you know, how do you know them? Not even two of my closest friends know these things, these emotions. But they would never understand ever, even if I could express them properly to them. Please help me through this. I do not know where to turn; don't know where to go or who to talk to. I feel like I'm at the end of my road.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
He let the parchment dry and reread it. He reached for Tempest and tied the letter to her leg. She flew from the windowsill and was gone from sight in seconds. Now all he had to do was wait for a reply.