The summer had just been born, and everyone on Privet Drive had taken the day off to visit a special
convention, specifically for the grand-opening of a lawn mower megaplex, which was to last for a week. Harry was, of course, cast aside by the Dursleys, although Harry felt no pain or suffering, for his own problems were much more intense, and well, prominent in his overloaded mind.
He lazily forced himself off of the Dursleys perfectly kept lawn, and went inside for a bit of eating. As he opened the refridgerator, he felt the great need to write to someone, anyone. Deciding that macaroni and cheese took too much time and effort to cook, he decided upon a cheese sandwich.
He quickly consumed the sandwich and scurried upstairs to write his letter. As gathered parchment and a pen, and decided on writing Hermione.
"Dear Hermione,
I cannot wait to see you, I trust that you'll be at the Burrow as well, Ron owled me and told me that is where we're to stay. Also, if it's not too much trouble, could you send me copies of The Prophet when you're done with them? I'd like to be informed with what they're saying about: Me, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and such. Cannot wait to see you,
Love Harry."
He put the piece of parchment in an envelope, and sent Hedwig off with the letter. He ran downstairs and flipped on the news, like he did every day. Reports of endangered whales, riots at a music festival, nothing to extraordinary. He stepped back outside, guiltily enjoying the smell of fresh, clean, muggle air.
He watched a group of muggle teens walk into the house diagonal to the Dursley's. They all carried the presence of street rats, dirty clothes, and an overall aura of someone Uncle Vernon would despise. Harry thought nothing of it, and returned to judging the looks of the female Hogwarts students while concentrating on a singular blade of grass.
He jumped, his heart skipping the next few beats. Music was ommiting from the house the kids had walked in to. Not really being able to distinguish anything from the extremely loud bass, he decided to walk to the house to see what on earth was going on.
He knocked on the door in vain, they didn't hear it. He knocked again, this time with more force, thinking to himself, "Imagine if Vernon were here... the police would be here quicker than flies in Umbridge." Finally, a one of the kids answered the door, responding with, "What the ruddy hell do you want?" Harry was taken aback by the complete bluntness, but responded with, "I wanted to know what you're blasting."
The music suddenly stopped, but started again, alas, the volume had been turned far, far down. The boy responded with, "Well, we were listening to Iron Maiden, now we're listening to Iced Earth, care to come in and have a listen?" Harry decided to be polite, so he walked in.
The house was huge, with a big-screen TV, computers, video game systems, and a sound system the size of Ron Weasly and Dean Thomas put together four time. The boy said to Harry, "Make yourself at home, not like my parents will care... they'll be gone for a few days." Harry corrected him by saying, "A week. Lawnmowers, right?" The boy laughed and agreed, and Harry sat down on the luxurious couch.
He lazily forced himself off of the Dursleys perfectly kept lawn, and went inside for a bit of eating. As he opened the refridgerator, he felt the great need to write to someone, anyone. Deciding that macaroni and cheese took too much time and effort to cook, he decided upon a cheese sandwich.
He quickly consumed the sandwich and scurried upstairs to write his letter. As gathered parchment and a pen, and decided on writing Hermione.
"Dear Hermione,
I cannot wait to see you, I trust that you'll be at the Burrow as well, Ron owled me and told me that is where we're to stay. Also, if it's not too much trouble, could you send me copies of The Prophet when you're done with them? I'd like to be informed with what they're saying about: Me, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and such. Cannot wait to see you,
Love Harry."
He put the piece of parchment in an envelope, and sent Hedwig off with the letter. He ran downstairs and flipped on the news, like he did every day. Reports of endangered whales, riots at a music festival, nothing to extraordinary. He stepped back outside, guiltily enjoying the smell of fresh, clean, muggle air.
He watched a group of muggle teens walk into the house diagonal to the Dursley's. They all carried the presence of street rats, dirty clothes, and an overall aura of someone Uncle Vernon would despise. Harry thought nothing of it, and returned to judging the looks of the female Hogwarts students while concentrating on a singular blade of grass.
He jumped, his heart skipping the next few beats. Music was ommiting from the house the kids had walked in to. Not really being able to distinguish anything from the extremely loud bass, he decided to walk to the house to see what on earth was going on.
He knocked on the door in vain, they didn't hear it. He knocked again, this time with more force, thinking to himself, "Imagine if Vernon were here... the police would be here quicker than flies in Umbridge." Finally, a one of the kids answered the door, responding with, "What the ruddy hell do you want?" Harry was taken aback by the complete bluntness, but responded with, "I wanted to know what you're blasting."
The music suddenly stopped, but started again, alas, the volume had been turned far, far down. The boy responded with, "Well, we were listening to Iron Maiden, now we're listening to Iced Earth, care to come in and have a listen?" Harry decided to be polite, so he walked in.
The house was huge, with a big-screen TV, computers, video game systems, and a sound system the size of Ron Weasly and Dean Thomas put together four time. The boy said to Harry, "Make yourself at home, not like my parents will care... they'll be gone for a few days." Harry corrected him by saying, "A week. Lawnmowers, right?" The boy laughed and agreed, and Harry sat down on the luxurious couch.