Chapter 3: Harry
When you lose a sock you get really mad at the little man that steals them from the wash (I just met him recently, twitchy little fellow he was). Multiply this feeling as many time as you can, add a lot of hate and murderous anxiety and that equals just about how I feel about Bellatrix Lestrange. One human being simply cannot reserve this tidal wave of emotion and lately there are leaks in the dam. Hermione has been avoiding me, wary of every outburst. She has retreated from sight. I have barely seen her since the funeral. I guess she is dealing with grief in a different way. Ron has stood by my side constantly, nearly to the point of exhaustion. He is flying now, giving himself a break. I can't bring myself to fly. Not on his broom.

When we left school Luna told me I could see Sirius again. Through the veil.

For now I will return to their house. Tormenting Dudley will never feel the same again.

Even if I do not consider the Dursley's my family or their house my home I feel I am more unwelcome than before. Uncle Vernon has not forgotten the dementors. However this year is more bearable because they have chosen to ignore me completely, slightly short of feeding me.

Dudley had returned from Smeltings the afternoon prior to me. I hardly recognized him. He was not skinny but not the size he had been before. He also saw it fit to give me his hand-me-downs from his old size. I put on a pair of pants in my bedroom. There was an extra yard of material around the waist.

I have been "home" for an hour and there was nothing to do. I opened my closet and began putting my trunk in. It was particularly exhausting so I sat on it inside my closet and stared wistfully at the ceiling, imagining it was the sky above the Quidditch pitch and I was on the trail of the snitch and Sirius was in the stands.

Before this I had never spent anytime inside my closet so you can imagine how baffled I was to see a trapdoor in the ceiling. Being the naturally curious person I am, I opened it up and climbed through onto a dusty hardwood floor.

For my entire life the Dursley's had maintained that they had nothing to do with my parents or any of my family at all. Yet this room contradicted everything. It was my mother's bedroom from when my grandparents lived here.

The bed was pushed against a window, the sheets flowering and old fashioned and extremely frilly. I walked unsteadily to the dark armoire and creaked the door open. There were shelves upon shelves laden with books and quills and clothes and robes. A crystal ball glinted at the top and a large Hogwarts trunk peaked out under some dress robes and a musty black cloak.

Attempting to pull out the trunk, I pushed the cloak aside and out spilled a large roll of yellowed parchment. Losing interest in the trunk, I busied myself by spreading the sheets of paper carefully on the desk, as to prevent rips.

To my great disappointment the sheets were blank, although I soon realized that tapping them with my wand might reveal the secrets of the parchment papers.

The green ink spread quickly from my wand tip and a green curly writing at the top read
Harry,
I hoped you would find this room. As you probably have seen,
dear Petunia is about as dear as a cockroach, she does not know
of this room and I expect you not to tell her. This room is
mine and I am sharing it with you my son. The artifacts in here
are for you to use and no one else, for even the nicest of
wizards have their own hidden agendas. I have kept this room
hidden because it contains plans for a broomstick James and I
have designed specifically for Quidditch. Use them wisely.

Lily

Krissy: Thanks for pointing out the grammar error. I have fixed it. By the way on the whole character thing, I think by the first two sentences it was really clear. My lone reviewer, I thank you!