Hi, it's been ages! As I had announced sometime back, for those who had seen my previous author's note, my home pc is totally down and I do not have extra cash to get a new one or to repair it. I'm now surviving on my company pc which I could not use to do personal things, so I therefore had this idea of continuing the fic on paper, then I scan my written work and email it to a fellow reader, Melanie,who helps me type them out into softcopy, using my office equipments. That's how I got to finish this chap. But as Melanie is quite busy with her life, here I advertise for typist who is willing to give me a bit of their time to type the upcoming chapters.
The benefits: You get to read my fics first hand, a very nice acknowledgement section just for you. What is better than all that! I sincerelyhope someone is willing to help me out, for now just enjoy the chap and not forgetting to review!
Nothing too eventful happened during the Hogsmeade visit the next day. The four of them didn't engage themselves in too many activities there, though they did visit Fred and George at their joke shop which was thriving with business. ("I wonder how much they make in a day! Do you reckon they'll tell me if I ask nicely? Wow, did you see that thick gold necklace on their neck, nearly blinded me, that one!") Ron couldn't stop muttering to himself or close his mouth throughout the 15 minute visit in the shop. As usual, Ron's silly and immature (in Hermione's own words) behavior got onto her nerves and she had to resort to casting a jaw-clenching spell on him, but not before purchasing some pretty interesting joke items herself.
"Not that I want or need them….er…… I….I just patronize their shop on account of our friendship." At this, both Ron and Harry turned to look at her. Since when are they considered friends when they aren't at all polite to each other? The twins were forever trying different ways and methods to taunt the little bookworm, teasing her and making her life a living hell (Harry suspected that it's already one of their everyday motto, 'Taunting Hermione Until She breaks Or Join Us'). The bushy haired prefect on the other hand was always hot on their heels, keeping a close eye on them, making sure that they didn't step a toe out of line. Feeling very self-conscious under their stare, Hermione quickened her steps to get away and accidentally tripped several innocent holiday shoppers in the process.
Much to everyone's pleasure, Harry's mood improved tremendously after the stop at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, or more fondly known as 'Twin Store' , with his pocket full of complimentary joke and trick items.
"They charged me three sickles for this," grumbled Ron, holding out a realistic trick item for them to see, "and they told me that it's family price but they didn't take a single knut from Harry for all these," said Ron, pointing to Harry's bulging coat pocket.
"Sometimes I feel that they like you more than me, their blood brother! Their own blood brother for Merlin's sake," stated Ron, but he didn't look at all displeased, on the contrary, he was grinning all the while.
The four of them strolled along the iced magical village making silly theories on why the devilish twins liked Harry more than Ron and Ginny even suggested that Fred and George liked boys. Giggling like girls, they stepped into the Three Broomsticks. Warm air gushed out to welcome them when they entered the cozy little bar; they settled themselves at the table next to the window and each ordered a mug of foaming hot butterbeer, contented themselves sipping their drinks and watching holiday shoppers from the frosty window. There they spent a quiet but peaceful afternoon.
To everyone's disappointment, including Hermione, who is always against the idea of going against rules, Harry didn't try to talk McGonagall or Dumbledore out of the idea of making him go back to the Dursleys for Christmas.
Two days after the earth shaking announcement, Hedwig returned with a reply from the Dursleys.
Will pick you from station.
There was no "Dear Harry" or "Harry" to start the letter or "With love, Uncle Vernon" or a simple "Uncle Vernon" at the end. The five words didn't seem to have came from a blood relative, it didn't even express any intimacy, neither was it a bit respectful. The fact that it was scribbled on the back of a bit of yellowing printed paper so obviously torn off from Uncle Vernon's company calendar that was hanging beside the fridge, wasn't cheering Harry up any bit. Clearly, the Dursleys were not at all pleased with the new arrangement. They were very used to the idea of a "freak-free" Christmas for the previous five years and suddenly when they were least prepared, they were told that they were going to have a "magical" Christmas, anyone would freak out, least to say the "All-so-mighty" Dursleys.
Drazing out of the window in his dormitory, what was left of the Harry could remember very vividly the Christmas Eve when he was eight. Aunt Petunia brought Dudley and Harry (She couldn't get anyone to tend to him as her best friend, Veronica, was away to visit her parents and her nutty old neighbor, Mrs. Figg, was expecting guests) to the mall to do some last minute shopping when a jovial looking old man wearing mismatched clothes (a pair of striped pajamas like some Uncle Vernon owned and a filthy looking shirt with a hideous pink polka dot bow) came up to them and wished them a magical Christmas. Instead of returning his greetings, Aunt Petunia screamed, grabbed Dudley with her shopping bag laden, bony arms and ran, in three inch heels, to the nearest taxi stand and Harry trying, with great difficulty, to catch up with her, then took a taxi straight home without the turkey.
Harry had paid dearly for what was clearly not his fault. He was sent to his cupboard that night, after Aunt Petunia told Uncle Vernon about the incident when they got home. Harry could remember vividly, as though it had happened yesterday, how his eight year old self, thin and vulnerable, was locked up in the dark and cold, spider-filled cupboard on Christmas Eve. Everyone was celebrating the day, tucking into delicious food; huge turkey, cakes and pies of all kinds, pudding of all colour, flavour, and shape setting on the fridge, waiting piping hot patiently for them to finish their meal, but Harry was hungry and miserably cold, his stomach growling with whatever was left from lunch, shivering with the cold, his teeth chattering noisily. From the little gap under the door, he could hear, very clearly, the Dursleys merry and joyous voices, Dudley singing out-of-tune Christmas carols that he'd learned in school in his high-pitched, squeak-like voice. Harry wept that night, something he hadn't done since he was six, the time Uncle Vernon had whipped him with the broom for not greeting him during breakfast. He wept and sang the Christmas carols under his breath the whole night in the cramped and miserable cupboard under the staircase. He imagined himself sitting on his father's lap unwrapping heaps of presents. He looked like him, with dark hair and green eyes. His father was tall and strong, nothing like short, fat Uncle Vernon. His mother was beaming at the pair, watching his excited face and occasionally giving him a loving pat on the head. Not having seen his mother before, he didn't know how to picture her features so Harry decided that she must have looked like her sister, Aunt Petunia, with blond hair and brown eyes, except she was petite and curvy and more beautiful than Aunt Petunia. She was always smiling at Harry. She was nice to him. The three of them were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, their home was comfortable and they loved each other dearly.
"Harry! Harry!" came a voice from far away and , as if being pulled away from the window where the scene was taking place, he was pulled farther and farther away from his father and mother and his eight year old self. Harry threw out his arms in surprise.
"Ouch! What's that for?" Harry opened his eyes and was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room. When he could see properly, he saw Ron's face right in front of him. Harry's first instinct was to inch his head away from him as the sight of Ron with lots of sleep in his eyes was horrifying and in addition, Ron's breath smelled as if he'd swallowed a bag of dung bombs whole.
Harry looked at Ron with a hideous expression, and when he saw that Ron was about to open his mouth, took a deep breath and held it. "Hey Harry, wake up!" exclaimed Ron while Harry slowly let out his breath, "We need to catch the train at 12. Quickly wash up, pack whatever you hadn't packed, and see you downstairs in 15 minutes, all right?" Harry nodded his head vigorously and the minute Ron walked away, he quickly sucked in the fresh air to replenish the air in his lungs.
"Oh, today's the day, isn't it? Aren't we excited to go back after so many years," thought Harry sarcastically. He quickly washed up, magicked all his belongings into his only trunk and hopped onto it to be able to close it. With the mood of someone walking to the gallows, Harry pulled his trunk, pieces of cloak sticking out from all sides, along and descended the stairs towards his doom.
So what do you think of this chap? Review & let me know how you think. Pardon me if there's lots of grammar mistakes for I couldn't wait for my beta reader to finish beat reading it before posting it. I'm just too excited to post this chap, but no worries, I'll repost the edited version once The-Back-Liner is done. I promise.
