Mind Games
Harry sighed, shifting awkwardly, as he tried to get comfortable on his lumpy bed. His ears were assaulted by the whining of Dudley Dursley, his bratty cousin, who was trying to weasel more food out of Harry's Aunt.
There had been an embarrassing incident involving Dudley, the school stage, and shortly afterwards, industrial lifting gear. Dudley had been trying out for a part in a school play when his audition had been cut short by the un-reinforced floor collapsing under him. In the end they had been forced to call for the Fire Brigade to come and lift him out, using equipment normally reserved for car crashes.
This had brought Dudley to the attention of the Social Services department, who had given Vernon, his dad, a stark warning. If Dudley did not lose weight, and fast, he would be taken in to care.
Harry's Aunt Petunia had immediately gone into hysterics when she was informed, to his great, but silent, amusement.
Summer was half-way over and Harry was bored, bored and lonely. Despite the protests of both himself and Ron Weasley, his best friend, he had not been allowed to stay with Ron's family over the summer.
'Another thing to chalk up to Voldemort,' Harry thought savagely. Voldemort was the most feared wizard in existence. He had personally killed Harry's parents and tried to kill Harry himself, but the Avada Kedavra, the killing curse somehow backfired, leaving Harry alive but with a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Voldemort had been weakened and had disappeared. Some people claimed he was gone for good.
Harry was unusual in the wizard world, as he refused to call Voldemort by any euphemism; the wizarding world preferred to refer to him as 'You know who', as if saying his name out loud might cause him to appear. The Dark Lord liked to use this sort of superstition to increase the fear people felt for him.
Despite official protestation to the contrary, it was beginning to be rumored that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were gathering in power. This had culminated for Harry this summer. While taking part in a Tri-Wizard tournament, he had grabbed the trophy with Cedric Diggory. The trophy turned out to be a Port-Key, a magical device for traveling to a fixed destination. The tournament had been a set-up for the Dark Lord to capture Harry, Cedric had been an unnecessary extra. Voldemort had been casually killed Cedric with less thought than that of a man standing on an ant.
Harry still had nightmares about that evening; he had dueled with Voldemort, till their wands had locked. A rare occurrence when two wands with identical cores were forced to fight each other. The spells that each had cast were played in reverse, ending with Harry seeing his parents just before their death.
Which left Harry, stretched out on his bed, reading a book that he didn't know he had. It had appeared on his bed one day, and the title had intrigued him. "Dreams and the Subconscious, a Personal Journey," by Dafne Dreater, a Portuguese witch. The author meant nothing to him, but the spells and ideas inside the book had helped him regain some control of his nightmares.
After mastering the basics, he had been enthralled by the advanced pages; his summer had flown by quickly as he had delved into the magic in front of him. Without knowing quite why, he had been concentrating on the spells that literally allowed him to enter someone's mind.
This spell could not be used as weapon though, as it needed complete and utter trust on behalf of the other person; it could not be forced upon them. Even so, he was almost obsessed as he committed the spells to memory, repeating the complicated phrases over and over again in his mind.
But, like every book, it had an ending, and after rereading it, again and again, he was finally bored with it.
He reached down, pulling a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean from the hiding place under his bed. Eating a Bertie Bean was always a gamble, as you never knew what flavor you were going to get. Chewing carefully to start with, Harry smiled to himself as the taste of strawberry ice cream came through.
"'Harry!" an annoyingly loud voice shrieked from downstairs. "Get your lazy bones down here and start cleaning that kitchen!"
Harry allowed himself the luxury of one last sigh, before standing and walking out of his room.
He entered the kitchen to twin glowers from two of the more unattractive people that the Muggle world had the misfortune to produce.
The corpulent Dudley, who, despite his strict diet of rabbit food, still bore a startling resemblance to a walrus - he had a terrific layer of subcutaneous fat which would have served him well in artic conditions.
Petunia, the person who's summons Harry was currently obeying, was extremely thin, and carried more neck than the average giraffe. When Harry had been growing up he had been endlessly fascinated by the way the neck would bend and sway as his aunt listened to the latest gossip from her equally vacuous friends.
"Well, what are you waiting for, you ungrateful brat?" Aunt Petunia screeched at him. "I can't make my Duddikins any more food in this mess, get to work."
Harry heroically swallowed his comment about Dudley needing more food like a desert needed more sun and got to work. Long practice allowed him to ignore the disdainful looks of his relatives as they watched him tidy their mess.
Harry's chore was interrupted by a tapping at the window. He looked up and smiled as he saw a small elf owl urgently battering its beak against the window.
"Pigwidgeon!" he said with a smile, automatically opening the window.
"Don't let that foul thing in here," his aunt screamed, a little too late. Pig, the owl's affectionate nickname, entered through the window and flapped wildly around the kitchen, not actually causing any damage himself, but scaring Dudley and Aunt Petunia.
"Pig!" Harry exclaimed forcefully. As much as he enjoyed the look of panic on his Aunts face, and the look of exhaustion on Dudley's as he actually had to move his overweight form, he didn't want the endless scolding that this would cause once his uncle came home.
Surprisingly, the excitable owl obeyed him and landed next to him, helpfully holding out a leg. Harry unrolled the letter and patted Pig on the head.
"You better get out of here," he said with a smile, shooing him out the window. Pig hooted once, and then vanished into the distance.
"WHAT HAVE WE TOLD YOU ABOUT OWL'S?" Aunt Petunia screamed, "Think of our reputation in the neighborhood." The fact that Harry could not care less for his adopted family's reputation was clearly evident on his face.
Deciding to end this quickly, Harry glanced at the note then looked up with a cheerful smile. "It's from Sirius."
At the mention of Harry's Godfathers name, both of his relatives froze. They were clearly petrified by the mere mention of the man accused of 13 murders. The fact that he was innocent was one of those snippets of information that Harry had carefully kept from his relatives.
"I think I'll go upstairs and write back," Harry announced, before walking out, a small smile on his face. He ignored the mutterings about waiting till his Uncle Vernon arrived home.
Safely ensconced in his room, Harry finally read the letter properly.
"Harry,
Wicked News mate, Dumbledore's finally agreed to let you spend the rest of the summer with us. Apparently he wanted to put a few more wards around the Burrow before allowing you to come.
Someone'll be there to pick you up at 5, be ready!
Ron"
Harry rolled onto his back and smiled with pleasure, his earlier boredom forgotten as he made a mental run through of everything he would need to bring with him. The list was disturbingly short, so it didn't take long for him to pack. He checked his watch and was pleased to see it was only fifteen minutes before he would be leaving. He contemplated giving the Dursley's advanced warning of his imminent departure, but decided against it. It wasn't worth the hassle.
He opened his own Owl's cage and released her into the air, "Go to the Burrow Hedwig, I'll meet you there." With a squawk of approval, the owl flew out the window and off into the distance.
Harry sat on his trunk, his belongings packed kicking his heels when the doorbell rung. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the trunk; it was charmed to be light, no matter what the contents, so he could move it on his own.
Harry paused on the stairs as he listened to the conversation, his green eyes sparkling with humor.
Dudley had opened the door, only to be instantly struck dumb.
"Hi, you must be Dudley," the gorgeous girl on his door step said with an enchanting smile.
Sadly, Dudley lost his chance to make a decent first impression as his brain turned to mush.
"Hmmsappy tair," he mumbled; his eyes wide. He tried to stand on tip toes; the front of the girls dress was just out of sight as she was a step below him. Sadly, Dudley's toes were not up to supporting the extra weight, and he stumbled backwards, falling on the floor.
His smile wide, Harry pulled his case down the last of the stairs, accidentally dropping one end on his cousin's hand. Ignoring the wailing it produced, he leaned over and hugged the girl on the front door.
"Hermione, it's so good to see you."
Hermione smiled, hugging him back, "You too Harry. I'm staying at the Burrow as well, so it made sense for mom and me to pick you up on the way. No one would expect you to arrive by Muggle transport." Hermione indicated the smart blue car behind her, her mom waved at Harry.
Turning to his Aunt, who had instantly appeared to see what her beloved Dudley was complaining about, he said, "I'm off for the rest of the summer, see you next year."
Without waiting for a reply, Harry shut the door behind him and followed Hermione to the car.
They turned to each other as they heard a voice shout, "Dudley, she is unnatural, you will NOT find her attractive, just wait till your father hears about this."
Harry and Hermione laughed as they put Harry's trunk in the car, and then settled in the back seats together.
