~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves ALL credit*~
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing
Chapter 4: The Purchases
The night passed with Harry weaving in and out of dreams. Most of them were of Sirius falling through the veil, but there were a few that included a very decayed Godfather shaking his head in disappointment at Harry. 'Why did you kill me, Harry? How could you?' he had said.
The boy pushed all memories of his dreams and aside and did his exercises before heading off to the bathroom for a long shower, which involved all the warm water that the rest of the Dursley's had left. The smooth beads of water that beat down on his body felt good against his manipulated muscles.
Harry didn't dare linger any longer then possible, due to old habits from the days when there were no threats from the Order. Changing as quickly as possible, he made his way down stairs only to find that Dudley had gone somewhere for the day ("Probably put for 'tea'! Ha!"), his Uncle had left for work, and his Aunt was out shopping.
The boy sat himself down at the table with a mug of leftover coffee, still warm in the coffee pot from his Uncle's breakfast. Toast was made and jam was slathered on it half-heartedly.
While he forced himself to eat, his gaze landed on a clothing magazine Aunt Petunia had left open on the table. The young man modeling the clothes on the colorful page was wearing a comfortable looking tee shirt and a pair of purposely faded blue jeans. Harry looked down at his own clothing in disgust. He had always been forced to wear tattered hand-me-downs from Dudley.
As he flicked through the pages, adoring the thought of having clothes that fit, realization hit Harry. He had money! Not just a vault full of gold galleons, but muggle money in his room that was waiting for him to spend! Of course, he knew the Dursley's couldn't know about his inheritance, but Harry was defiantly go to have new clothing even if he had to have it delivered to him at Hogwarts.
Five minuets later, a teenage boy sat alone at a kitchen table, flipping through an expensive designer's catalog writing down items that appealed to him. At first, he had no idea what he needed or wanted. So, he started with the basics...undergarments. The catalog showed many different types and colors. Reading through the prices and sizes, Harry wrote down one package of the y-fronts, and four packages of the boxers. The shorts, Harry bargained, would cover more of his body, which he would be thankful for the next time he ended up in the hospital wing.
Next, he wrote down three packages of sock. Three would do, because Dobby would probably wind up knitting him some more for Christmas. Packages of ribbed tank tops were added to list for him to work out in, although, Harry had to speculate his size as a men's small. After all, if Dudley secondhand cloths said "XXXL" then perhaps Harry should get the smallest size available. Just in case Harry decided to vary the rest of his purchases from XS, S, and M.
Ten plain white, three rhiane green, two crimson red, one royal blue, five midnight black, one Chudley Cannon orange (Harry had cringed as the book named it 'tangerine'), one golden yellow, and two charcoal gray tee shirts later, Harry was trying to decide on his trouser size. Finally, he opted to rummaging though his Aunt's drawer before coming across a stiff tape measure. He did as the book demanded, and found that he was a twenty-eight x twenty-nine, but the closest size the book list was a thirty x thirty. So, Harry settled on the larger size reasoning that he was already used to baggy pants and it was probably better for dueling anyway.
The models were all sporting the new design of baggy, big and many pocketed blue jeans that looked slightly worn out in the knees and seat, but they looked good on the brown haired boy staring up at him from a confident pose. Indifferent as to whether or not they would look good on him, Harry choose to buy five pair of blue jeans and five pair of khaki trousers with big pockets on the side of the knees that were long enough to store his wand in.
The raven-haired boy turned the page to find even more shirts! (Goodness, how he had forgotten how much muggles focused on unimportant things! Vanity was never an issue with Harry, but it was something the Dursley's placed a priority on.) With a shrug Harry wrote down the polo shirts of all the colors he already bought and more.
Doing a quick estimate, Harry found that he still had half of his muggle money to use. Because there was no other option for him to be able to spend it another way, Harry selected many long sleeved button-up oxford shirts and a few long sleeved pullover jumpers.
The last few items he added to the list were a pair of trainers, brown boots (Harry thought it would be nice to boots of another color so he didn't wear out his school uniform shoes), and wide brown belt (in case he measured his pant size terribly wrong), some baggy athletic shorts (though the model was holding a basketball, Harry decided they would cover his knobby knees and would suffice for his training), a package of assorted colored pajama pants, and a jacket.
Harry would have patronized himself for spending so much money selfishly, but something within him said that he needed to have this. Clothes were essential, and if new ones would replace some of his lost dignity, then it was a good thing. After all, the 'savior of the wizarding world' couldn't be seen wearing rags. To think of what people would think! Harry laughed out loud as he finished filling out the purchase order. He slipped the all the muggle money inside. He filled out the address as his own, but made sure he wrote Alastor Moody on the name. Perhaps when his Aunt and Uncle saw the odd name, they would assume that one of the Order had sent it to him and leave him alone about it out of fear.
Harry shook his head as he stepped outside and walked to the mailbox (A/N: Do they have mailboxes in Britain? Well, I am pretending they do) and shoved his order inside. A dull shuffling noise behind him caught his attention. His hand jumped to his back pocket, where his wand was still kept, as he spun around to find nothing.
Harry snorted as he realized that it was just an Order member who was on guard at the time. He wasn't a baby who needed a shield of protectors day in and day out. He walked back to the house muttering to himself about how he's end up being more paranoid than Mad Eye one day.
The rest of the day passed slowly, with the reading of his third-year books and writing down the dream/nightmare he had the night before. He sent an owl with a plain response of "I'm fine, Harry" to the Order. ('They thought the last note was bad! Ha! Maybe this one will teach them not to write worried replies to the letters I send that actually have information in them!') He knew that was very childish thinking, but it was how he felt at the moment. He knew they were honestly trying to help him and would do whatever it took to help him out, but that was just it. He didn't really want their help. He probably needed it, but using it would only cause further damage to them. Yes, being childish was probably the best way. Annoy them, like Snape, and they would undoubtedly want nothing to do with him.
'Yeah, right!' Harry snorted to himself.
After his nocturnal exercises, Harry reluctantly went to sleep at nine O'clock, knowing he would be awakened in a few short hours after the nightmare that was sure to come.
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing
Chapter 4: The Purchases
The night passed with Harry weaving in and out of dreams. Most of them were of Sirius falling through the veil, but there were a few that included a very decayed Godfather shaking his head in disappointment at Harry. 'Why did you kill me, Harry? How could you?' he had said.
The boy pushed all memories of his dreams and aside and did his exercises before heading off to the bathroom for a long shower, which involved all the warm water that the rest of the Dursley's had left. The smooth beads of water that beat down on his body felt good against his manipulated muscles.
Harry didn't dare linger any longer then possible, due to old habits from the days when there were no threats from the Order. Changing as quickly as possible, he made his way down stairs only to find that Dudley had gone somewhere for the day ("Probably put for 'tea'! Ha!"), his Uncle had left for work, and his Aunt was out shopping.
The boy sat himself down at the table with a mug of leftover coffee, still warm in the coffee pot from his Uncle's breakfast. Toast was made and jam was slathered on it half-heartedly.
While he forced himself to eat, his gaze landed on a clothing magazine Aunt Petunia had left open on the table. The young man modeling the clothes on the colorful page was wearing a comfortable looking tee shirt and a pair of purposely faded blue jeans. Harry looked down at his own clothing in disgust. He had always been forced to wear tattered hand-me-downs from Dudley.
As he flicked through the pages, adoring the thought of having clothes that fit, realization hit Harry. He had money! Not just a vault full of gold galleons, but muggle money in his room that was waiting for him to spend! Of course, he knew the Dursley's couldn't know about his inheritance, but Harry was defiantly go to have new clothing even if he had to have it delivered to him at Hogwarts.
Five minuets later, a teenage boy sat alone at a kitchen table, flipping through an expensive designer's catalog writing down items that appealed to him. At first, he had no idea what he needed or wanted. So, he started with the basics...undergarments. The catalog showed many different types and colors. Reading through the prices and sizes, Harry wrote down one package of the y-fronts, and four packages of the boxers. The shorts, Harry bargained, would cover more of his body, which he would be thankful for the next time he ended up in the hospital wing.
Next, he wrote down three packages of sock. Three would do, because Dobby would probably wind up knitting him some more for Christmas. Packages of ribbed tank tops were added to list for him to work out in, although, Harry had to speculate his size as a men's small. After all, if Dudley secondhand cloths said "XXXL" then perhaps Harry should get the smallest size available. Just in case Harry decided to vary the rest of his purchases from XS, S, and M.
Ten plain white, three rhiane green, two crimson red, one royal blue, five midnight black, one Chudley Cannon orange (Harry had cringed as the book named it 'tangerine'), one golden yellow, and two charcoal gray tee shirts later, Harry was trying to decide on his trouser size. Finally, he opted to rummaging though his Aunt's drawer before coming across a stiff tape measure. He did as the book demanded, and found that he was a twenty-eight x twenty-nine, but the closest size the book list was a thirty x thirty. So, Harry settled on the larger size reasoning that he was already used to baggy pants and it was probably better for dueling anyway.
The models were all sporting the new design of baggy, big and many pocketed blue jeans that looked slightly worn out in the knees and seat, but they looked good on the brown haired boy staring up at him from a confident pose. Indifferent as to whether or not they would look good on him, Harry choose to buy five pair of blue jeans and five pair of khaki trousers with big pockets on the side of the knees that were long enough to store his wand in.
The raven-haired boy turned the page to find even more shirts! (Goodness, how he had forgotten how much muggles focused on unimportant things! Vanity was never an issue with Harry, but it was something the Dursley's placed a priority on.) With a shrug Harry wrote down the polo shirts of all the colors he already bought and more.
Doing a quick estimate, Harry found that he still had half of his muggle money to use. Because there was no other option for him to be able to spend it another way, Harry selected many long sleeved button-up oxford shirts and a few long sleeved pullover jumpers.
The last few items he added to the list were a pair of trainers, brown boots (Harry thought it would be nice to boots of another color so he didn't wear out his school uniform shoes), and wide brown belt (in case he measured his pant size terribly wrong), some baggy athletic shorts (though the model was holding a basketball, Harry decided they would cover his knobby knees and would suffice for his training), a package of assorted colored pajama pants, and a jacket.
Harry would have patronized himself for spending so much money selfishly, but something within him said that he needed to have this. Clothes were essential, and if new ones would replace some of his lost dignity, then it was a good thing. After all, the 'savior of the wizarding world' couldn't be seen wearing rags. To think of what people would think! Harry laughed out loud as he finished filling out the purchase order. He slipped the all the muggle money inside. He filled out the address as his own, but made sure he wrote Alastor Moody on the name. Perhaps when his Aunt and Uncle saw the odd name, they would assume that one of the Order had sent it to him and leave him alone about it out of fear.
Harry shook his head as he stepped outside and walked to the mailbox (A/N: Do they have mailboxes in Britain? Well, I am pretending they do) and shoved his order inside. A dull shuffling noise behind him caught his attention. His hand jumped to his back pocket, where his wand was still kept, as he spun around to find nothing.
Harry snorted as he realized that it was just an Order member who was on guard at the time. He wasn't a baby who needed a shield of protectors day in and day out. He walked back to the house muttering to himself about how he's end up being more paranoid than Mad Eye one day.
The rest of the day passed slowly, with the reading of his third-year books and writing down the dream/nightmare he had the night before. He sent an owl with a plain response of "I'm fine, Harry" to the Order. ('They thought the last note was bad! Ha! Maybe this one will teach them not to write worried replies to the letters I send that actually have information in them!') He knew that was very childish thinking, but it was how he felt at the moment. He knew they were honestly trying to help him and would do whatever it took to help him out, but that was just it. He didn't really want their help. He probably needed it, but using it would only cause further damage to them. Yes, being childish was probably the best way. Annoy them, like Snape, and they would undoubtedly want nothing to do with him.
'Yeah, right!' Harry snorted to himself.
After his nocturnal exercises, Harry reluctantly went to sleep at nine O'clock, knowing he would be awakened in a few short hours after the nightmare that was sure to come.