Disclaimer: Obviously, I didn't write the Harry Potter series. J.K.
Rowling is responsible for those masterpieces, and I will always worship
her for it. Please don't sue me. I'm already poor and my mom would yell
at me.
Author's Notes:
Thank you to the reviewers, without whom I would probably revert back to simply reading others' fanfics. Now, for a few questions: 1. How the heck do I get italics to show up when I upload my story? 2. Would you rather have longer chapters with more time between updates or shorter chapters with less time between updates? 3. Is this story boring and taking to long to get to the point?
Please let me know what you think; I promise not to get offended and I really want to improve. Also, let me know if I make any mistakes (typos, non-compliance with the real HP books, etc...). Once again, thanks for reading! Reviews make my day! Siriusly—oops, I mean seriously! I check for reviews hourly! (Well, maybe not that often, but I am pretty obsessive about them.) And don't forget; if you recognize the song that is the chapter title, let me know in a review!
Chapter 3: Bring the Night On
Harry sat cross-legged on the smallest bed in the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to think of the best way to begin letters of apology to his two best friends. With a grunt of frustration, he realized he wasn't getting anywhere just staring at his quill and parchment. Resignedly picking up the quill, he decided it would accomplish more to just have a go at it.
Dear Ron,
How are you doing, mate? I'm alright; the Dursleys are leaving me alone for the most part. Whenever they start to act like prats, all I have to do is mention Mad-Eye Moody and they go quieter than Hermione with a good book.
Have you been getting a lot of Quidditch practice in? You'd better, because the team will need you next year. As far as I know, my lifetime ban is still in effect. As a matter of fact, you should make sure Ginny practices as seeker this summer as well as chaser.
Are your arms healed completely yet? I'm really sorry about making you come to the Ministry with me. I should've tried harder at Occlumency, or not dragged you and Hermione with me, not to mention Ginny, Luna and Neville. You guys should get hazard pay for being my friends.
Tell your family I said hi. Let me know if you hear anything about Voldemort.
Your friend,
Harry
It was pathetic, but the best Harry could do at the moment. Besides, Ron was not one to overanalyze anything. Hermione, on the other hand, always read between the lines. Harry knew he'd have to be more careful writing her letter. She'd be on the lookout for even the most subtle clues as to his current state of mind, and the last thing Harry wanted was for her to pity him or think him weak.
Dear Hermione,
I hope your summer is off to a good start. Have you gotten your O.W.L. results back yet? Mine haven't come, but I'm not sure I want to see them anyway. Are you ever going to tell Ron and me what career you chose? I'll probably have to pick a new one anyway, because there's no chance in—well, let's just say I doubt my Potions O.W.L. will be sufficient to get me into Snape's N.E.W.T. class.
Have you heard anything in the news about Voldemort lately? It seems strange that he wouldn't have made some sort of move by now since Fudge is finally acknowledging his return. I hope the Ministry is doing something to protect the muggleborn students.
I wanted to thank you for coming with me to the Ministry of Magic, especially against your better judgment. In retrospect, I can't believe I was so stupid. I should have listened to you from the beginning; you always have been the wits of our trio. I'm sorry you were hurt. I don't know what I would've done if you had—if it had been worse. Your parents must hate me.
On a somewhat lighter note, you'll be pleased to know that I plan on making the most of my summer by doing a lot of studying. I figure that with the news of Voldemort going public, we may have quite a few more members to add to the D.A. and it would be a good idea to have some new tricks to show them. However, I may need your help if it wouldn't be too much trouble. I would be very grateful if you could recommend some good defense and curse/countercurse books. Also, do you know if there are any books on Occlumency out there? If possible, I'd like to get them by Owl Order as I am currently under orders not to leave the neighborhood.
I hope you are well and enjoying your summer. I can't wait to hear from you.
Your Friend,
Harry
Overall, Harry didn't think it was a bad letter. He had been careful to leave out topics that were too disappointing or upsetting, like his lifetime quidditch ban, the Dursleys, Sirius... At the same time, he threw in comments about the upcoming school year and the D.A. to make it seem as if he was looking forward to the future.
If he was to be honest, his letters would have read more along the lines of:
Dear Ron and Hermione,
I hate the Dursleys. I hate Privet Drive. I hate Dolores Umbridge, Cornelius Fudge, Bellatrix LeStrange, Lucius Malfoy, Snape, Kreacher, Death Eaters in general, and that great ugly bugger Voldemort. I'm not too fond of Dumbledore at the moment, either.
I really miss Sirius, even though I don't know if he ever truly realized that I was Harry, not James Potter. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that he's gone. I can't even feel sorry for myself about losing my last chance for a family and a home, because I was the one who destroyed it.
I think I'm becoming an insomniac; I can't seem to sleep more than two straight hours before the nightmares come. Sometimes I get so lost in them I fear that maybe they aren't nightmares after all, although I don't think I could stand it if they were the reality. Of course it's not like real life is such a vast improvement.
To top it all off, I'm supposed to save the whole world. Right. Me. The scrawny kid with the glasses and the scar. I'm prophesized to be the only one with the power to take out the Dark Lord, never mind the fact that I can't even keep the bastard out of my own head.
Well, cheerio, it was nice chatting with you. Try to avoid being tortured and murdered by evil madmen for the crime of being my friends. Hope to see you again soon if we're all still alive and mobile.
Unfortunately for you, Your Friend,
Harry
No, that wouldn't do at all. The entire Weasley family (minus Percy) and Hermione would be pouring through the Dursley's newly rebuilt fireplace seconds after reading that letter.
Harry eventually wanted to write to Ginny, Luna, and Neville but decided that would have to be left for another day. Trying to sound like his normal, relatively untroubled self was too exhausting an act to keep up with any longer. Instead, he sealed up his letters to Ron and Hermione and sent Hedwig with an owl treat to deliver them.
"BOY! Get your lazy arse down here and set the table for dinner!" intruded his uncle's bellowing voice.
Harry trudged down the stairs at a leisurely pace, noting on the way down Uncle Vernon laying like a slug in front of the telly in the living room. And I'm the lazy one, Harry thought incredulously. He continued on to the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was removing a steaming casserole from the oven.
"There you are; it's about time. Set the table for two. Dudley won't be home for dinner tonight and you can fix yourself leftovers after Vernon and I finish," she ordered snootily.
"And who is 'Dudders' terrorizing tonight?" asked Harry, feeling brashly rebellious.
Harry felt something akin to satisfaction when Petunia rounded on him, red- faced and shaking with anger. "Dudley is out enjoying a healthy social life as boys his age should! I wouldn't expect an abnormal, ungrateful orphan like you to understand that!"
Harry knew at that point the smartest option would be to simply set the table and leave, but nearly fifteen years of the Dursleys had brought him to the end of his rope. He had long ago given up on ever being accepted or appreciated by them, but some hurt, vengeful part of his personality felt it necessary to shatter his aunt's skewed vision of her son.
"Yes, well it's just unfortunate that Dudley's 'healthy social life' as you put it has such an unhealthy affect on others. I doubt that Mark Evans down the road would count Dudley's behavior as normal; of course, he'd probably be too afraid for his safety to say something against him in the first place. And it certainly can't be too healthy for Uncle Vernon's wallet, either, with him 'borrowing' pounds for ciggies when he thinks no one will notice..."
Harry was cut off from further speech when his aunt backhanded him across the face hard enough to make him stumble backwards and collide with the refrigerator. He was stunned momentarily and gaped at his aunt in shock, hand cradling his cheek. When he drew the hand back, he was appalled to see it covered in bright red blood. Must've been her wedding ring, Harry thought vaguely.
"HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE DUDLEY OF ANYTHING YOU LITTLE INGRATE!"
"What has the boy done now, Petunia?" growled Uncle Vernon, stomping down the hallway to join the activity in the kitchen.
Even as Petunia answered him, she continued glaring daggers at her nephew. "He was accusing our Dudley of being a bully and a thief! You know Vernon, it was probably this horrid brat who was taking that money from your wallet all last summer, trying to frame the poor boy!" cried his enraged aunt.
At this, Harry was indignant enough to break free from his shocked silence. "What possible use would I have for your money? It's not as if I ever even get the chance to escape from this hellhole in the summer, and when I do finally leave I go straight to the wizarding world!" Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, as Uncle Vernon was now advancing on him with a furious glint in his eyes.
"BOY! You know better than to speak of your abnormality in this house, and I will not tolerate a freak like you badmouthing my son. He is a respectable young man, and you should consider yourself lucky to have grown up in the same household as him!"
This was the last straw for Harry. He hadn't felt this furious with his 'family' since the summer before third year when he blew up Aunt Marge. If he didn't get out soon, he was almost certain he would once again lose control and react magically. Wards and protection be damned; Dumbledore wasn't the one who had to put up with a family that couldn't stand the sight of him.
"The day I feel grateful for the way you have raised me is the day Dudley gets a job based on intelligence and good looks," Harry spat, before turning and leaping up the stairs to his room.
He could hear his aunt's shouts and his uncle's heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs after him, but he couldn't be bothered to care. Once inside his room, he dropped onto his stomach and pulled his wand and cloak out from their hiding spot beneath the loose floorboard under the bed. As Uncle Vernon barged into the room, Harry's only retreat was through the small window. He wrenched it open and dangled by his hands before dropping nearly fifteen feet to the ground. To lessen the impact, he made sure to tuck and roll as he hit the soft dirt and flowers below. If he had looked back before throwing the invisibility cloak on and limping away, he would have seen a livid Vernon Dursley half hanging out the window, cursing the day Harry was abandoned on his doorstep.
Author's Notes:
Thank you to the reviewers, without whom I would probably revert back to simply reading others' fanfics. Now, for a few questions: 1. How the heck do I get italics to show up when I upload my story? 2. Would you rather have longer chapters with more time between updates or shorter chapters with less time between updates? 3. Is this story boring and taking to long to get to the point?
Please let me know what you think; I promise not to get offended and I really want to improve. Also, let me know if I make any mistakes (typos, non-compliance with the real HP books, etc...). Once again, thanks for reading! Reviews make my day! Siriusly—oops, I mean seriously! I check for reviews hourly! (Well, maybe not that often, but I am pretty obsessive about them.) And don't forget; if you recognize the song that is the chapter title, let me know in a review!
Chapter 3: Bring the Night On
Harry sat cross-legged on the smallest bed in the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to think of the best way to begin letters of apology to his two best friends. With a grunt of frustration, he realized he wasn't getting anywhere just staring at his quill and parchment. Resignedly picking up the quill, he decided it would accomplish more to just have a go at it.
Dear Ron,
How are you doing, mate? I'm alright; the Dursleys are leaving me alone for the most part. Whenever they start to act like prats, all I have to do is mention Mad-Eye Moody and they go quieter than Hermione with a good book.
Have you been getting a lot of Quidditch practice in? You'd better, because the team will need you next year. As far as I know, my lifetime ban is still in effect. As a matter of fact, you should make sure Ginny practices as seeker this summer as well as chaser.
Are your arms healed completely yet? I'm really sorry about making you come to the Ministry with me. I should've tried harder at Occlumency, or not dragged you and Hermione with me, not to mention Ginny, Luna and Neville. You guys should get hazard pay for being my friends.
Tell your family I said hi. Let me know if you hear anything about Voldemort.
Your friend,
Harry
It was pathetic, but the best Harry could do at the moment. Besides, Ron was not one to overanalyze anything. Hermione, on the other hand, always read between the lines. Harry knew he'd have to be more careful writing her letter. She'd be on the lookout for even the most subtle clues as to his current state of mind, and the last thing Harry wanted was for her to pity him or think him weak.
Dear Hermione,
I hope your summer is off to a good start. Have you gotten your O.W.L. results back yet? Mine haven't come, but I'm not sure I want to see them anyway. Are you ever going to tell Ron and me what career you chose? I'll probably have to pick a new one anyway, because there's no chance in—well, let's just say I doubt my Potions O.W.L. will be sufficient to get me into Snape's N.E.W.T. class.
Have you heard anything in the news about Voldemort lately? It seems strange that he wouldn't have made some sort of move by now since Fudge is finally acknowledging his return. I hope the Ministry is doing something to protect the muggleborn students.
I wanted to thank you for coming with me to the Ministry of Magic, especially against your better judgment. In retrospect, I can't believe I was so stupid. I should have listened to you from the beginning; you always have been the wits of our trio. I'm sorry you were hurt. I don't know what I would've done if you had—if it had been worse. Your parents must hate me.
On a somewhat lighter note, you'll be pleased to know that I plan on making the most of my summer by doing a lot of studying. I figure that with the news of Voldemort going public, we may have quite a few more members to add to the D.A. and it would be a good idea to have some new tricks to show them. However, I may need your help if it wouldn't be too much trouble. I would be very grateful if you could recommend some good defense and curse/countercurse books. Also, do you know if there are any books on Occlumency out there? If possible, I'd like to get them by Owl Order as I am currently under orders not to leave the neighborhood.
I hope you are well and enjoying your summer. I can't wait to hear from you.
Your Friend,
Harry
Overall, Harry didn't think it was a bad letter. He had been careful to leave out topics that were too disappointing or upsetting, like his lifetime quidditch ban, the Dursleys, Sirius... At the same time, he threw in comments about the upcoming school year and the D.A. to make it seem as if he was looking forward to the future.
If he was to be honest, his letters would have read more along the lines of:
Dear Ron and Hermione,
I hate the Dursleys. I hate Privet Drive. I hate Dolores Umbridge, Cornelius Fudge, Bellatrix LeStrange, Lucius Malfoy, Snape, Kreacher, Death Eaters in general, and that great ugly bugger Voldemort. I'm not too fond of Dumbledore at the moment, either.
I really miss Sirius, even though I don't know if he ever truly realized that I was Harry, not James Potter. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that he's gone. I can't even feel sorry for myself about losing my last chance for a family and a home, because I was the one who destroyed it.
I think I'm becoming an insomniac; I can't seem to sleep more than two straight hours before the nightmares come. Sometimes I get so lost in them I fear that maybe they aren't nightmares after all, although I don't think I could stand it if they were the reality. Of course it's not like real life is such a vast improvement.
To top it all off, I'm supposed to save the whole world. Right. Me. The scrawny kid with the glasses and the scar. I'm prophesized to be the only one with the power to take out the Dark Lord, never mind the fact that I can't even keep the bastard out of my own head.
Well, cheerio, it was nice chatting with you. Try to avoid being tortured and murdered by evil madmen for the crime of being my friends. Hope to see you again soon if we're all still alive and mobile.
Unfortunately for you, Your Friend,
Harry
No, that wouldn't do at all. The entire Weasley family (minus Percy) and Hermione would be pouring through the Dursley's newly rebuilt fireplace seconds after reading that letter.
Harry eventually wanted to write to Ginny, Luna, and Neville but decided that would have to be left for another day. Trying to sound like his normal, relatively untroubled self was too exhausting an act to keep up with any longer. Instead, he sealed up his letters to Ron and Hermione and sent Hedwig with an owl treat to deliver them.
"BOY! Get your lazy arse down here and set the table for dinner!" intruded his uncle's bellowing voice.
Harry trudged down the stairs at a leisurely pace, noting on the way down Uncle Vernon laying like a slug in front of the telly in the living room. And I'm the lazy one, Harry thought incredulously. He continued on to the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was removing a steaming casserole from the oven.
"There you are; it's about time. Set the table for two. Dudley won't be home for dinner tonight and you can fix yourself leftovers after Vernon and I finish," she ordered snootily.
"And who is 'Dudders' terrorizing tonight?" asked Harry, feeling brashly rebellious.
Harry felt something akin to satisfaction when Petunia rounded on him, red- faced and shaking with anger. "Dudley is out enjoying a healthy social life as boys his age should! I wouldn't expect an abnormal, ungrateful orphan like you to understand that!"
Harry knew at that point the smartest option would be to simply set the table and leave, but nearly fifteen years of the Dursleys had brought him to the end of his rope. He had long ago given up on ever being accepted or appreciated by them, but some hurt, vengeful part of his personality felt it necessary to shatter his aunt's skewed vision of her son.
"Yes, well it's just unfortunate that Dudley's 'healthy social life' as you put it has such an unhealthy affect on others. I doubt that Mark Evans down the road would count Dudley's behavior as normal; of course, he'd probably be too afraid for his safety to say something against him in the first place. And it certainly can't be too healthy for Uncle Vernon's wallet, either, with him 'borrowing' pounds for ciggies when he thinks no one will notice..."
Harry was cut off from further speech when his aunt backhanded him across the face hard enough to make him stumble backwards and collide with the refrigerator. He was stunned momentarily and gaped at his aunt in shock, hand cradling his cheek. When he drew the hand back, he was appalled to see it covered in bright red blood. Must've been her wedding ring, Harry thought vaguely.
"HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE DUDLEY OF ANYTHING YOU LITTLE INGRATE!"
"What has the boy done now, Petunia?" growled Uncle Vernon, stomping down the hallway to join the activity in the kitchen.
Even as Petunia answered him, she continued glaring daggers at her nephew. "He was accusing our Dudley of being a bully and a thief! You know Vernon, it was probably this horrid brat who was taking that money from your wallet all last summer, trying to frame the poor boy!" cried his enraged aunt.
At this, Harry was indignant enough to break free from his shocked silence. "What possible use would I have for your money? It's not as if I ever even get the chance to escape from this hellhole in the summer, and when I do finally leave I go straight to the wizarding world!" Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, as Uncle Vernon was now advancing on him with a furious glint in his eyes.
"BOY! You know better than to speak of your abnormality in this house, and I will not tolerate a freak like you badmouthing my son. He is a respectable young man, and you should consider yourself lucky to have grown up in the same household as him!"
This was the last straw for Harry. He hadn't felt this furious with his 'family' since the summer before third year when he blew up Aunt Marge. If he didn't get out soon, he was almost certain he would once again lose control and react magically. Wards and protection be damned; Dumbledore wasn't the one who had to put up with a family that couldn't stand the sight of him.
"The day I feel grateful for the way you have raised me is the day Dudley gets a job based on intelligence and good looks," Harry spat, before turning and leaping up the stairs to his room.
He could hear his aunt's shouts and his uncle's heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs after him, but he couldn't be bothered to care. Once inside his room, he dropped onto his stomach and pulled his wand and cloak out from their hiding spot beneath the loose floorboard under the bed. As Uncle Vernon barged into the room, Harry's only retreat was through the small window. He wrenched it open and dangled by his hands before dropping nearly fifteen feet to the ground. To lessen the impact, he made sure to tuck and roll as he hit the soft dirt and flowers below. If he had looked back before throwing the invisibility cloak on and limping away, he would have seen a livid Vernon Dursley half hanging out the window, cursing the day Harry was abandoned on his doorstep.