Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story. Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.
Times Past
Chapter 1
"Boy! Get down here now!"
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, re-instated star seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and leader of the DA winced. It didn't take much to give his uncle an excuse to take his anger out on him. It never reached physical abuse, but Uncle Vernon was convinced that Harry (or another of 'his lot') had put a spell on Aunt Petunia, which clouded her better judgment and prevented him kicking Harry out.
Slowly Harry ventured downstairs. Just two more days he thought desperately. Then you'll be leaving here. You just need to last today and tomorrow. Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket a re-read it to confirm what it said.
Dear Harry,
Hope you are well and your aunt and uncle aren't treating you too badly.
GUESS WHAT? MUM & DAD SAY THAT DUMBLEDORE SAID YOU CAN COME AND STAY WITH US FOR THE REST OF THE HOLIDAYS!
Here there was a small rip in the page.
Sorry about Ron's interruption Harry. Anyway, as you've probably worked out we're inviting you to come and stay. We're at Grimmauld Place because the Burrow isn't safe enough. We will pick you up on Saturday. I don't know if Ron and I will be coming but we will see you soon anyway.
Love from,
Hermione & Ron
"Hurry up!" came the shout from downstairs. Harry groaned and continued down to confront his uncle. Looking up into Uncle Vernon's beetroot coloured face Harry asked "Yes Uncle Vernon?"
"What… is… this?" asked Vernon, breathing heavily and struggling to get the words out.
"Er," replied Harry intelligently. "Um, well, could I see it?"
Uncle Vernon handed over the letter he had been clutching so tightly, his piggy eyes darting back and forth between Harry and the envelope as if it was going to explode as soon as his nephew touched it. Reaching out, Harry grabbed the letter and examined it. The front was addressed in the normal muggle way to
Mr. & Mrs. Vernon Dursley
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey
3635
Completely confused, Harry turned the envelope over to discover what had upset his uncle so much. Although the back had a normal return address Harry's heart sunk when he saw that although the letter writer had made it extremely muggle-like, the had forgotten not to use the personalised Ministry of Magic stationary. For along the base of the envelope it said 'The Ministry of Magic. Protecting and Maintaining All Important Issues for All Witches and Wizards In Britain.'
Harry snorted. 'All important issues'? Wasn't Lord Voldemort an important issue? Yet when Harry had informed the Ministry of his return it had been scoffed at and not even considered. At least one good thing had come out of the fight – Fudge could no longer deny Voldemort's resurrection.
The fight. Sirius. Cedric. So much death and hurt all leading back to Lord Voldemort. Neville's parents. Harry's parents.
"Well?" Uncle Vernon's voice interrupted. "Who sent this ruddy letter?"
"The Ministry of Ma-" began Harry.
"Don't you dare say that word in my house!" yelled Uncle Vernon. "Just say yes or no. Is it from… from your lot?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what's in it?"
"No."
"Do you know who sent it?"
"Not personally."
"Fine then. After all it is addressed to me and Petunia…" Cautiously, he opened the envelope.
"Hello! We hope you are well," said the letter. "As you are the guardian of a magical child would you please take this survey."
"No!" snarled Uncle Vernon, glaring at the letter to make it shut up. It didn't work.
"Name, please."
Harry's uncle ignored it.
"Name, please," asked the letter again.
Still it was ignored.
"Name, please," insisted the letter.
"Shut up-" bellowed Uncle Vernon.
"Name, please."
"Shut up!"
"Name, please."
"Shut up!"
"Name, please."
"Name, please."
"Fine," spat Uncle Vernon. "Vernon Dursley."
"Spouse and offspring's names please."
"Petunia and Dudley Dursley," he answered dully.
"Name of magical child, please."
"Don't say that word!" yelled Uncle Vernon frantically.
"Name of magical child."
"Don't…" he trailed off, realizing how useless it was. "Harry Potter."
The latter started, hearing his name. Harry realized he should be using this time to creep away from his uncle, but it was far too interesting.
"How do you feel about You-Know-Who?"
"Who?"
"You-Know-Who."
"I don't know who!"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Who the-"
"Lord Voldemort," interrupted Harry. "You-Know-Who is Voldemort."
"Oh… right. He's a nasty delusionist out to kill my nephew and he can't even do that properly."
"Thank-you for taking our survey."
And with that the letter disappeared presumably back to the Ministry of Magic, or perhaps to the next muggle household. Quickly, Harry also disappeared past his shocked uncle up to his room. He resolved to tell Uncle Vernon about Ron and Hermione on Saturday, once there was nothing his relatives could do about it as he didn't feel like being locked in his room again, like he had after the 'pudding incident'.
This decided, Harry looked around at his messy room. Once belonging to Dudley, it was filled with everything from broken televisions to bent parrot cages yet Harry's own belongings hardly filled the corner they were in. Sighing, Harry rummaged through his trunk, searching for his photo album. Although when he had first received it, it had had only pictures of his parents it now was filled with photos of everyone from Ginny Weasley to his third-year Defense teacher, Remus Lupin. They however, were not the pictures he was looking for.
Wishing he had a better photo of Sirius, Harry turned to the photograph of his parents wedding. Staring hungrily at Lily, James and Sirius he wondered once more, what it had been like for them. He had only seen them in a slightly biased penseive memory, heard them through Dementors and when he was less than one year old.
Harry thumbed through the album, searching for any photos from his parent's seventh year, when Sirius had said they finally got together, but there were none to see. Any photos with both Lily and James in them had Lily glaring at James and the latter making his hair look even more windswept. Eventually he gave up.
Seeing no point in sitting doing nothing he lay down to try to get some sleep. But his scar still prickled, although he couldn't read Voldemort's emotions. That was a good sign he supposed, but… but…
Slowly Harry drifted off to sleep.
A/N: Well? What do you think? Should I continue? Please REVIEW!