Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are the property of JKRowling and her licensees. I have written this for enjoyment only and not for any monetary gain whatsoever and have no claim on the Potterverse characters, items or locations referenced herein.

Letter to No One

By RowanRhys and Dancingkatz

June 1996

I just dutifully saw mother off to one of her charity things. That's something I just can't understand; she has the most horrible people you can imagine here for tea, smiles, chats with them about inconsequentialities, presses cucumber sandwiches and cake upon them, and then she gets up and goes to some concert or auction for the benefit of wizards and witches left homeless by some natural disaster on the other side of the world. At least she didn't insist that I go along this time since tonight's event is a modern music recital. I despise "modern" music. It's so unstructured and noisy.

Father is in the City somewhere so, at the moment, I have the house to myself--if you don't count the house elves. Since I don't know when he's due back I suppose it's a good thing that the professors assigned so much revision over the hols. If he comes back too soon I can hide this in with my Magical History research notes or something. Or the potions essay. Or the notes from the practical herbology project that I've got germinating in the conservatory… I wish I were a fourth year again, like Cordelia. I know her holiday assignments are nowhere as difficult or many as mine. I should have expected it though; once you're done with your O.W.L.s, the workload just gets heavier and heavier until you're so fed up with it, the N.E.W.T.s are almost a relief.

At least it will be a few weeks before I have to worry about Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle being around. Blaise is with his parents in Italy and Vince and Greg are doing the obligatory visits to grandparents or someone somewhere in Devon or Cornwall. Maybe by the time they get back they'll have forgotten that I managed to escape their supervision on the train. I can hope. I would have never thought about ducking back to the platform on the back of the luggage van. But Cordelia did. We spent almost the entire second half of the trip talking and sometimes arguing Quidditch strategies.

I got a note from Cordelia last night. It made me laugh. The first thing she wrote was that she used her favorite strategy during a family Quidditch match and it worked but when she used mine, her team lost dismally so she considers that she "won" our discussion on the train. One of her brothers has promised her a new broom and they'll be going to Diagon Alley the second Saturday of August to pick it up for her. She wants to know if I can meet them there.

I'd love to help her pick out a good broom (I know she can't afford a Nimbus or a Firebolt but there are other decent brooms out there). Her older brother will probably get her a CleanSweep or something safe. She'll never get a chance to get on the first team without something that can really maneuver.

I'm not going to be doing any real Quidditch this summer from the looks of things. I sure as hell don't want to be up on a broom with Crabbe or Goyle lumbering around like human bludgers, and no one on the House team lives near enough to set up practices. I know Zabini flies but I can't trust him.

I'll have to come up with another reason to get down to Diagon Alley since helping a friend shop for a broom isn't important enough for father to approve; especially if that friend isn't part of the select group that I'm permitted to associate with outside of school. The O.W.L.S. results are going to arrive before then; maybe if I did well enough, I can convince Mother to let me go into London for one of the Proms concerts in Hyde Park with a stop at Diagon Alley for shopping… If nothing else I know I can talk her into letting me go and get my books and supplies for Seventh year a little earlier than usual.

Father came home from the City just before tea time with a house guest. Tancred Pffingley is apparently someone important in the Magical Defense Research Division of the Ministry. I don't like him. He smiles at you out of one side of his mouth while the rest of him is determining the best place to put the wand. I wonder if Mother knows about him. She won't be back from her concert till after midnight. I had just sent Aldona off with an answer for Cordelia a half an hour before they arrived. Hopefully, she won't be coming back until after dark, preferably while we're eating dinner so no one will ask any questions. When they arrived I was in the conservatory checking on the progress of my Bitterstar seeds. It's tempting to use magic to speed the process up but I don't want to anger Father by getting any letters from Malfada Hopkirk this summer. It seems that the closer it gets to my 17th birthday, the harder it is to meet his standards. The last thing I need is something to bring me to his attention… like an official notice from the Ministry.

The house elf's just popped in with a dress robe so it looks like tonight's dinner is going to be formal even if mother isn't here. So much for just getting a tray brought up to my room.

Pffingley is getting on my nerves. He's been here five days and it seems that every time I leave my room to work on the Bitterstars (which have finally sprouted) or go use the piano in the music room, he's always lurking about. Which is why I haven't been able to add to this. Thankfully, he and Father are out "hunting" for the afternoon. I didn't bother asking what they were after today. Sometimes it's better not to know.

Cordelia answered my answer with a note full of cartoons about Quidditch and a couple dozen homemade biscuits. She said that she's trying to get her hols assignments done but her family has so much going from what she told me, I think she'll be finishing them on the train in September. She said she's expecting to meet me at Fortescue's before we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies for her broom. I'm surprised at how much I miss her. Not that we got to see a whole lot of each other at school being in different classes and having to stay out of the way of my bodyguards and Pansy. She knows that my father uses Crabbe and Goyle as spies, but I don't think she realizes that they and Zabini are my gaolers…

I have an idea for a new composition. One of Cordelia's comments about the Golden Snitch inspired it. Since there's no one around to interrupt I'm going to spend the rest of the day in the music room working on it.