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: Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers, without whom I would wallow in self-pity and never post another chapter on FF.net. To WiccanPussyKat: sorry I couldn't fulfill your wishes, but I did try extra, extra hard just for you! I hope you like this chapter! As to your predictions, I don't want to spoil the story for you. I will tell you however, that I do have very good plan of how I will end this fic. I'd write an even longer response to your wonderful review, because there's a lot I'd like to say, but I'm afraid the FF.net gods will smite me. To angel75, tansy1354, AP MOM, Mooncinder, Kjkit, Omagic, jeff, sarily, dweem-angel, and Alexis-Lee: While I enjoy writing this fic simply to exercise my creativity, knowing that you are reading it makes it a spectacular experience.
By the way, if you are wondering, the chapter names sound strange and don't seem to directly address what goes on in the story for two reasons. First, the chapter titles are actually titles of songs I like and find intriguing. Second, I don't like giving away exactly what the chapter's focus is. Let me know in a review if you know what artist does the song!
Chapter 6: The Taste of Ink
The days following his blowout with the headmaster passed much more smoothly than Harry expected them to. Harry couldn't for the life of him think of anything that would convince the Dursleys to take him back in after their argument. He had been sure that if the Order's threats hadn't been enough to keep them civil, nothing would. However, something in the letter Dumbledore had Fawkes deliver persuaded them not only to leave Harry alone, but also to feed him at regular intervals and lighten his workload.
Oh, Harry could still tell they despised him. In fact, when Mundungus Fletcher had walked him back from Mrs. Figg's, his uncle had been so furious to see him back at Number Four that the Order member was almost forced to use magic against him. Luckily, Petunia had noticed a nosy neighbor who had woken up to the yelling peeking out the window to watch the commotion and ushered them inside before Vernon could do anything rash. After that, Fletcher had handed over a small bottle of healing potion Dumbledore had given Fawkes to deliver along with the letter, and asked Harry to go to his room.
Harry, having always been intensely curious by nature and not one to appreciate being forced out of conversations concerning him, left the bedroom door open a crack to spy on them.
"What is this? If this is another threat from that loony old crackpot trying to tell me how to run my household, I'll tell you now I won't have any of it. Besides, Petunia and I have decided that we tried our best to raise that insufferable brat to be a normal, decent young man, but he is obviously beyond help. You fr—people should be grateful we took the little bastard in to begin with."
"Dursley, just shut your mouth an' read that letter before ya force me to do somethin' that would land us both in a world'a trouble," Fletcher barked, for the first time that night sounding as if he belonged in the Order of the Phoenix.
For the next few minutes, all Harry could make out was the rustling of papers. Then, Uncle Vernon gave a light gasp, and Harry could hear him muttering softly to Petunia. When he finished, Aunt Petunia drew in a sharp breath and asked Fletcher something that sounded like, "This isn't some kind of trick, is it?"
"I dunno what that letter says, but I can tell ya now that Dumbledore doesn' say things he doesn' mean," responded the man gruffly. "Now I need to get goin'. We'll be watchin' ya extra close from now on, so ya better let the boy alone. We have ways of keepin' an eye on the place so that ya won' even know we're here. An' believe me when I say, there's always goin' to be someone here."
The conversation had ended there. Fletcher left, and his aunt and uncle retired to the kitchen to talk. Harry was too tired to sneak around gathering anymore information, and decided it would be smarter to lie low for awhile and stay away from his relatives. Now that he had decided to stay, he may as well do his part to make the living conditions tolerable.
Since then, several days had passed. In that time, Harry had been allowed to sleep in as late as he wanted, had been given only a reasonable amount of chores, and had received permission to eat whatever he liked, provided he made it himself. He still avoided his aunt and uncle, as whenever he was near them he could see in his aunt's taut face and his uncle's rigid posture a barely concealed hatred. Although he was long-since used to their disgust and hate, somehow it still hurt that those were the only emotions his last remaining family could spare for him.
Harry had taken to spending his free time on these comparatively peaceful days walking around the neighborhood. Sometimes Tonks or Fletcher would sidle up to his side and chat with him quietly when none of the neighbors were around. Mad-Eye Moody, however, was either too paranoid or too professional to make his presence known even to Harry when he was on guard duty.
It was now Tuesday, and Harry had only three more days until he had to see Dumbledore again. He was currently lying listlessly on his small bed, tired of prowling the confines of Privet Drive like a tiger in a too-small zoo exhibit. There was nothing for him to do; his daily chores had already been completed, all his summer homework except for Potions had been done, and he had sent Hedwig off the previous morning to deliver letters to Luna, Ginny, and Neville.
Harry was saved from anymore time spent wallowing in boredom when a tiny owl flew through the window like a miniature missile. A letter nearly the owl's own size and weight hung haphazardly from its tiny leg.
"Hullo, Pig," Harry mumbled, snatching the bird from the air and setting it at the foot of his bed. As he was untying the letter, a larger, dark brown and stately-looking owl landed on the window frame. It surveyed the room haughtily before its large, amber eyes settled on Harry, clearly waiting for him to relieve it of its message. Has to be from the Ministry, Harry thought. After he carefully removed the rolled up, official-looking parchment from the owl, the bird took off and headed back to where it came from without a second glance.
Before he could get back to Ron's letter, Hedwig floated gracefully into the room, already back from delivering her messages. She apparently had at least one reply already, too. Harry raised his eyebrows incredulously. What timing…Not one letter the entire first week of summer and now three owls in one day! He must have spoken too soon, though, as one last owl appeared and settled on the windowsill.
This owl was a deep charcoal gray with black speckles and wingtips. It had a fierce and intelligent look to it, and its eyes were a piercing gold. Harry didn't know why, but the bird gave him a bad feeling; he was fairly sure that he wouldn't like whatever information it had for him. The owl's beady eyes and head followed his movements as he made his way over to collect its letter. Harry gently untied a thick roll of parchment from its leg, and the imposing bird left just as quietly as it had come.
After being besieged by so many owls at once, Harry didn't know which letter to begin with. Pig was hopping excitedly up and down on the mattress looking quite like he needed some attention, so Harry started with Ron's letter.
Hey Mate,
It was good to hear from you. It would have been a lot better if you didn't act like a guilty prat, apologizing and all that. Get it through your thick head, mate—WE CHOSE TO GO WITH YOU. If I'd have asked you to come with me to save my family from Voldemort, you would've come without a second thought. Friends stick together, no matter what happens in the end.
Enough of the gushy-friendship stuff, then, and on to the most important matter: Quidditch. If they don't take away your ban, they're crazy. Just in case, I've got Ginny practicing as Seeker like you said. Still mate, she's rubbish compared to you, anyone would be. She does make a pretty decent chaser, though. Don't let it worry you, if they don't lift the ban we'll just have to start a quidditch club in addition to the D.A. Honestly, they ought to have given you another award for Special Services to the School for punching out Draco Malfoy. Probably would have, too, if that hag Umbridge hadn't been there. The ban is probably why McGonagall's taking so long to name you quidditch captain for next year—she probably has to wait until it's lifted.
Harry pondered that comment for a moment. He hadn't really thought about quidditch for awhile; the lifetime ban had made it just another painful memory to add to his collection. Even though he definitely wanted to be back on the team next year if he could, it seemed so insignificant now. Harry wondered if any aspect of his schooling and life at Hogwarts would ever again be as meaningful as it once was in light of the prophecy.
Anyway, Mum and Dad and Ginny and the twins say hi, and Mum also wants to know if your relatives are feeding you enough. Sorry, but she's making me ask. Ginny says you'd better be sending her a letter soon, too, and the twins want to invite you to their shop if Dumbledore ever lets you leave those git relatives of yours. Take care, mate, we're all looking forward to seeing you whenever it's safe for you to leave.
Ron
P.S.—Don't wait up for a letter from Hermione, her parents are taking her to China for a few weeks. Can't for the life of me think of why they'd want to go there; probably ran out of books she hasn't read in Europe. Oh, Ginny just got her letter from Hedwig, so you don't have to worry about her going spare on you. You might have to put up with getting long, girly letters from her now, though.
Harry smiled. Right now he didn't mind how long or girly any letters sent to him were; he was going out of his mind with boredom. He was surprised to hear that Hermione's parents were taking her somewhere so far from home over summer holidays, but he was sure Hermione was thrilled. Secretly, he was glad to hear that she was away from home. As long as they were using muggle transportation, they were probably safer from Death Eaters.
Harry looked through the rest of the parchments he had gotten. Hedwig had brought back messages from Luna and Neville, and he decided to read those next. They were both somewhat short; Neville's simply stating that Harry had no reason to apologize, and that his grandmother had actually been proud of him for standing up for himself and his friends against Death Eaters. Luna's ignored his apology altogether, instead choosing to describe her first week of searching for the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack with her father. It read like a documentary written by a Quibbler reporter on some strong psychoactive substances. Harry enjoyed it nevertheless.
Next, Harry opened the letter from the Ministry.
Dear Mr. Potter,
This letter contains the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Attached is your N.E.W.T. class registration parchment, which must be completed and sent to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by the fourth of August. Please keep in mind that the only N.E.W.T. level classes you may enroll in are those in which you received an O.W.L. score of at least Acceptable, although professors reserve the right to demand higher for certain classes.
Due to some discrepancies during certain exams last term, please pay particular attention to the additional notes at the bottom of this parchment.
Congratulations on the completion of your O.W.L.s. We look forward to seeing your progress at N.E.W.T.s.
Sincerely,
Astoria Procris
Educational Committee Representative
Ministry of Magic
Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he wanted to see this yet…until he remembered how unimportant O.W.L.s were in the scheme of things. What did it matter if he didn't do well enough to be an Auror? He'd probably have to be trained better than an Auror anyway, if he was to defeat Voldemort. Besides, if he did survive the war, would he want to continue living the way he was now? Harry resumed reading his results.
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*Ordinary Wizarding Level Results*
Student: Harry James Potter
Astronomy: Acceptable (please see additional notes below)
Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding
Charms: Exceeds Expectations
Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding*
Divination: Poor
Herbology: Exceeds Expectations
History of Magic: Troll
Potions: Acceptable: Exceeds Expectations
Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations
Total O.W.L.s Passed: 7
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Additional Notes:
Concerning your Astronomy Exam: Due to the interruption during this exam, you have the option to request a retest. If you are satisfied with your results, this is not necessary.
Concerning your Defense Against the Dark Arts Exam: You received the top score of all students in your school who tested in this subject. You may be eligible for an apprenticeship or independent study; contact Headmaster Albus Dumbledore for details.
Overall, Harry was very pleased with his results. It disappointed him that he didn't make the grades to be an Auror even though he was no longer sure he really wanted that anyway, but he still figured Exceeds Expectations was good enough to throw in Snape's face. While he had expected an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he hadn't really thought that he'd top the entire fifth year class. He didn't know what the note about an apprenticeship or independent study was about, but he was pleased that he'd have something to talk to Professor Dumbledore about on Friday that wouldn't leave either of them feeling ashamed or uncomfortable.
The result that surprised him the most was the "Troll" he received in History of Magic. Not that he'd expected to do well in the subject, but he had that "T" standing for "Troll" had just been a joke. He couldn't wait to tell Ron that it was real, although Ron might already have discovered that based on how poorly his Divination exam had gone. Best just to tell Hermione that he had received a "Poor" whenever he saw her…
Harry shoved the results into his desk drawer with a sheaf of old letters and Ministry notices. Onto the last letter…Harry hefted the thick scroll in his hands, noting that it was almost the same deep-gray as the owl that had delivered it. He wondered if he should go ahead and open, or show it to whoever was on guard duty first. For all he knew, it could be from a Death Eater. Then he remembered what Dumbledore had said about the protections on Privet Drive, and was pretty sure he remembered the headmaster mentioning something about one that misdirected unauthorized owls.
In the end, curiosity got the better of him and he unrolled the scroll.
*Last Will and Testament of Sirius Black*
Without reading any further, Harry rolled the scroll back up, sealed it, and promptly shoved it under his secret floorboard. He stood up and began pacing around the small room, hands pressed on the back of his neck as he tried to sort out what that letter meant.
Why was he so shocked? He knew Sirius was dead; for Merlin's sake, he'd watched him die…No, that's not true, I saw him fall through a bloody veil…It wasn't surprising that Sirius would have a will, certainly every member of the Order of the Phoenix had made one. It also wasn't surprising that Harry would be in the will…if you completely left out the fact that I'm the reason his will is here in the first place. I'm sure he wouldn't have put me in the will if he knew I'd be the one to send him away in the end...
It was all too much to take in at the moment. Harry felt suffocated in the small room. As was second nature now, he shoved his wand into the back pocket of his pants and pulled his baggy T-shirt over to cover it before yanking the door open and striding downstairs. He wrenched the front door open at the same time his uncle was turning the knob to come in after returning from work.
Harry must not have known his own strength; Uncle Vernon practically fell into the house, dropping his briefcase and stumbling into the hallway. By the time the elder Dursley realized what had happened, Harry was already beyond hearing range.
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A/N: Sorry for ending it there; I was supposed to be working on my Classical Mythology paper the whole time I was writing this, and I really have to go back to it now. I'll have more soon, I promise! I know this hasn't been the most action-packed chapter. I'll make up for it in chapter 7—I have to, because 7 is my lucky number! And so you don't think I'm being repetitive, Harry is NOT trying to run away again. He's simply getting some air.