I just realized I posted the wrong chapter earlier! There's another chapter before this one titled "Year 2: Chapter 20" first. I just decided to post this one right after since I messed up. Sorry again!
"Honestly, Ronald, you could have asked Hermione how to use a telephone before trying to contact Harry and getting him in trouble."
"You're probably right. I hope I didn't mess up his whole summer…"
"He's with the Dursleys. His summer's probably already awful."
Ron grumbled with this last, although his words were indistinguishable. I caught something about how those Muggles were terrible people and if only he could use magic outside of school—but then he ceased said grumbling and asked, "Do you know if Harry will be able to come over to your place next month?"
I shrugged, even though I knew Ron couldn't see the gesture. "No idea. I'm sure we can get him, though. If they won't let him go willingly, we'll scare the Dursleys into thinking we'll set their house on fire if they don't release him."
On the other side of the room, Robbie choked on the butterbeer he was drinking. After a fit of coughing, he shook his head and muttered, "I'd love to see their faces if I were to show up at their door again and do that."
Ron was laughing, seemingly comforted by how strongly I gave my answer. "Well, thanks for teaching me how to properly use one of these fellytones. I'll probably be late to your place due to our trip to Egypt, but I'll call you as soon as we come back."
"Of course. Tell your family I said hello, and have a great time!"
"Thanks, Belle, I will. See you soon."
With that, there was the distinctive click of the telephone. I put down my receiver and sighed—it was five weeks into our summer break, and while I was able to talk to Ron and Hermione on the phone whenever we wished, poor Harry seemed to be isolated… again.
I found myself looking towards my brother, who raised an eyebrow at me over his bottle of butterbeer. Frowning, I said, "Those Muggles, I swear… I hope Harry's actually gotten my letters this year."
"At least there isn't a house-elf blocking them."
I snorted upon remembering Dobby, whom Harry had freed at the end of last year. While I hadn't met the elf myself, he'd been a constant pain in the neck for Harry during the summer and the beginning of term.
"I've got to start thinking of what to send him for his birthday," I mused, absentmindedly walking towards our pantry. We had plenty of things to bake; if I remembered right, Harry's favorite dessert was treacle tart.
Robbie watched, one eyebrow raised, as I retrieved milk, sugar, eggs, and all the other necessities for baking. He set down his butterbeer and started grabbing mixing bowls and preheating the oven—but noting my surprised expression, he shrugged. "What? I like baking with you. Or was this something you wanted to do by yourself?"
Restraining a grin, I replied, "No, you'll just to stir everything for me since we don't have a mixer."
Robbie laughed and waved his wand, and we got to work.
For the next hour or so, the two of us set our minds to baking the best treacle tart we could for Harry's birthday. Conversation quickly turned towards when my friends might be able to stay at our place for a time; I took this opportunity to tell him that Hermione was on vacation in France, and that Ron and his family would be going to Egypt for a month to visit the eldest son, Bill.
"I saw that they won the Daily Prophet's Grand Prize Galleon Draw. I'm really glad they're spending some of that money to relax. I can't think of any family who deserves it more," said Robbie, a grin on his face.
"So perhaps around the end of August, they'll be able to come over?" I asked hopefully. "Ron and Hermione should be back from their vacations by then."
Robbie used a spell to begin mixing all the ingredients together. "Sure! Just let me know when it's all settled. We'll be ready to host whenever."
As the tart was baking, we took bottles of butterbeer out of the refrigerator and claimed our seats on the back porch. The sun had just finished setting, so it wasn't too hot anymore, and it was nice to have some fresh air.
Everything was peacefully silent. As the sky grew darker, stars began glimmering in the night sky. Crickets started chirping—and the silhouettes of two owls approached over the far horizon.
"There's Hera," Robbie remarked, sipping his drink. "Is that Blumiere next to her?"
As the owls drew closer, I realized that one of them was much smaller than the other. I smiled; that was certainly my little elf owl.
When they arrived, Hera dropped a rolled up paper into Robbie's lap. Meanwhile, Blumiere plopped a letter into mine.
I recognized the handwriting immediately. A tiny smile came over my face—out of all the people I'd written to over the summer, I hadn't expected Draco Malfoy to be the one that responded most consistently. I'd written to Ron, Hermione, Harry—who obviously wasn't allowed to reply back so that didn't count—Oliver, Draco, and Ginny. And surprisingly enough, it was the one Slytherin in a handful of Gryffindors that seemed the most interested in keeping contact.
Not that I had told anyone we were writing, of course. Ron in particular would make a snarky remark to me if he were to find out.
I opened the envelope—a gold Galleon dropped out. Curious as to why there was a Galleon in the letter, I read Draco's writing:
Hey, Belle, good to hear from you again. Not much has really changed since last I wrote, except that Elizabeth keeps trying to get me to be a test dummy for some of the pranks that she's attempting to manufacture. If I know her, she's attempting to outdo the Weasley twins. I'm a bit afraid for my life with some of those experiments.
Anyway, you're probably wondering about the Galleon—my father brought home a few of these yesterday. He said they're actually quite valuable since the front of the Galleon is the Ministry's logo, and those were changed over twenty years ago. I thought you might like it. Let me know how things are going at yours. Maybe I can catch you at Diagon Alley in August. –Draco
"Who wrote you?" asked Robbie, noticing my smile.
"Oh—no one," I answered a little too quickly.
My brother raised an eyebrow, causing me to flush a little bit. He'd always had a way of worming information out of me, and it didn't fail now; it also didn't help that he seemed to note my pink face despite the dying light. "I'll find out if you have a boyfriend, you know."
"No, it's nothing like that," I replied with a sigh. I remembered only too well what Robbie had told me last year in Diagon Alley: be very careful around Lucius Malfoy and his children. "I just don't think you'd… erm… necessarily approve."
Robbie set down his butterbeer and stifled a belch, which made me shake my head but also laugh. Softly, he said, "You don't need my approval to be friends with someone. Do I like Harry and Ron and Hermione? Certainly. But me liking them shouldn't be a contributing factor to why they're your friends."
I bit my bottom lip. Robbie did have a point…
"Oh, all right," I acquiesced, gently folding up Draco's letter and putting it back in the envelope. I pet Blumiere's head—he had been hooting at me for attention—and said, "I've been writing to Draco all summer."
"Draco Malfoy?"
"The same."
Robbie raised his eyebrows and simply said, "Ah. All right, fair enough."
But I knew my brother; when he didn't have much to say, it was because he wasn't sure whether to speak at all. Thus, although I knew there was the potential for the statement to backfire tremendously, I sighed, "I know that look. You aren't happy."
"No, it's not that I'm not happy that you're friends with him. It's just—his father. I've been… asked… to work closer with Lucius for something involving my department. He makes me nervous."
"He makes everyone nervous."
"Especially since he's been sacked as a school governor for Hogwarts, though. He's been particularly—"
But Robbie abruptly stopped. Probably for the best—the less I knew about how horrible Lucius Malfoy was, the better. It would be rather awkward if I knew all these things that I shouldn't when I was friends with his son.
"Maybe it's a good thing you're friends with Draco, actually. Might help Lucius turn a blind-eye if I ever need it in the Ministry…"
I knew Robbie was trying to provide a silver lining so I would forget what he'd said. For his own sake, I played along. "You never know."
There was a ding from inside, signaling the tart had finished baking. Robbie helped me package it neatly into a little box and tie it with a red ribbon. I had a letter prepared for Harry for his birthday—I was about to send the letter with Blumiere and the tart with Hera when there was a tapping at the window.
Sitting outside our sill was a beautiful snowy owl: Hedwig. I'd recognize her anywhere.
She hooted when I opened the window and hopped inside atop our perch, her black eyes peering at the present. She nipped at the ribbon and looked at me expectantly.
A laugh escaped my throat; she was an incredibly intelligent owl. "Yes, that's for Harry. For his birthday."
Hedwig hooted again and expectantly stuck out her leg. She was already holding a tiny parcel and a letter from someone else; based on the handwriting, it seemed like it was Hagrid.
"Doing the rounds, Hedwig?" I asked as I put my envelope next to the other.
She hooted again and flapped her wings. I took that as a yes before reaching for the canister of little owl treats that we kept by the perch. Hedwig gobbled up the ensuing offering and blinked, one eye at a time.
"Wish him happy birthday for me," I said, and then I brought Hera over to assist in carrying the little tart too.
After tying the treat to Hera's and Hedwig's legs and the letter to Blumiere's, I opened the window again and watched as they flew off into the blackened sky. I hoped they would reach Surrey all right—and that those wretched Dursleys wouldn't confiscate Harry's mail.
The next day, Blumiere and Hera returned… and so did Hedwig.
Robbie was the one who let them inside that morning. Upon noticing there was a letter with Hedwig, he took an exaggeratedly big breath and shouted, "BELLE THERE'S A LETTER FROM HARRY HERE COME AND GET IT."
I ran into the mudroom and almost rammed straight into the table, which only made my brother snicker. After rolling my eyes at him, I gently took the letter from his hands. On the front of the letter was my name: Belle.
I recognized the scrawl that was Harry's handwriting. A gasp lodged in my throat: this was the first letter I'd received from him all summer.
I wasted no time in grabbing a knife and slicing the top of the envelope open.
It's really good to hear from you, Belle. Thanks for the tart, it's delicious, and it's probably going to save my life in the next few days or so. I'm sorry to have to ask, but would you be able to take care of Hedwig for a week? My uncle's sister is coming to visit, and I was promised that if I behave "normally," they'll sign my permission slip to go to Hogsmeade. I hope it won't be too much of an inconvenience. Say hello to Robbie for me—I can't wait to go over to your place and hang out for the rest of the summer. I don't know when I'll see you again, but with luck, it'll be soon. Miss you. –Harry
There was a huge smile on my face as I read the letter—Robbie seemed to notice this, because he casually remarked, "It's good to hear from Harry, isn't it?"
When I looked at Robbie, however, there was the most evil big brother grin on his face.
"Shut up," I muttered.
He just laughed.
A week passed, and even though I knew Harry wouldn't be writing to me again, I found myself wishing there would be another letter. I was incredibly worried about him—his relatives were bad enough, but the fact that he would be stuck with yet another Muggle that was related to his uncle made my concern worse.
Exactly one week after I received my letter from Harry, Hedwig screeched in the kitchen and pecked at the front window. I blinked and walked over to her, startled; Hedwig hadn't once made a noise like that throughout the entire time she'd been with us.
"Is something wrong, Hedwig?" I asked, stroking her head.
Hedwig nipped me affectionately but continued tapping the window. Figuring that she was attempting to get out for a reason, I raised it. Hedwig hooted at me and looked back outside.
There was a sudden CRACK! Someone had just Apparated at our doorstep.
"Robbie?" I called, squinting to see who it was. I found myself staring; it couldn't be who it looked like…
My brother walked downstairs and, seeing me frozen at the window, opened the door. He staggered back and exclaimed, "M-Minister? Is there something I can help you with?"
And it was: Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.
"Good evening, Robert, lovely to see you," said the Minister, pleasant as a bowl of peaches. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I've just received word that Harry Potter is on his way here on the Knight Bus. I must speak with him once he arrives. Would I have your blessing to do this?"
"Harry? On his way here?" I gulped. I looked a right mess; I hadn't yet showered, and was wearing my paint-splattered shirt with shorts that didn't match.
The Minister of Magic smiled at me and replied, "Indeed, dear girl, indeed. You must be Belle, yes? Robert's told me about you—made the Quidditch team last year, if I remember correctly! And as a second-year no less, very impressive."
The praise made some color rush into my cheeks. It wasn't every day that the Minister of Magic spared you a compliment…
"Is Harry in some kind of trouble, Minister?" Robbie asked, frowning.
"Not at all, just some accidental magic with a relative—but then he ran away from home, which is very dangerous considering all that's happened…"
"Sirius Black," I murmured. His face had been plastered all over magical and Muggle news alike the last couple of weeks. "Is this all because he's on the loose?"
Fudge nodded gravely, shadows briefly overtaking his face.
Before he could further explain the situation, however, there was another loud BANG, and suddenly, bright lights were flaring into the house. Outside of the window was the Knight Bus, a purple double-decker vehicle with green headlights. The doors squeaked open, and then—
I burst out of the house upon seeing Harry exit, never mind the paint-splattered shirt. The conductor of the bus helped with his trunk; upon seeing me, he grinned in Harry's direction. "Oi, this the girlfrien's house? Nice place, very pretty—house an' girlfrien' both!"
Harry stammered for a moment. "Wait, what… no, Stan, we're friends—Belle, it's great to see you. I'm in trouble, I'm sorry—I promise I'll only be around for a day, I don't want to get you in trouble too—"
He stopped short when I grabbed his shoulders and giggled. "Harry, you aren't in trouble. The Minister's already here, he knew you were coming. He just wants to talk to you for a moment. And it's great to see you, too. Come on."
Although Harry seemed rather taken aback by what I'd just told him, he simply nodded and waved farewell to the workers on the Knight Bus; seeing that he was going to be taken care of, the conductor waved back. With a mighty BANG, they were off once again.
"You're sure I'm not in trouble?" Harry whispered, eyes wide behind dirtied glasses. "I broke the law—I should be expelled, arrested…"
I shook my head and grabbed Hedwig's cage from atop his trunk of school supplies. "Don't worry, Harry, everything'll be fine."
Harry was still uncertain, but followed me inside the house nonetheless.
Robbie and the Minister had moved over to the living room and were sitting in the chairs by the fireplace, leaving me and Harry the couch. My friend blanched upon seeing the Minister, but Fudge just smiled jovially at him and exclaimed, "Ah, there you are, Harry! Sit, if you would."
We both did so; before Fudge could resume, Robbie rose from his chair and asked, "Anyone want some lemonade? It's rather hot outside."
"I wouldn't say no to a glass," chuckled the Minister—Harry and I nodded to show that we would accept one, too—then Robbie grinned and rose to grab the drinks.
Once he was gone, Fudge redirected his attention to Harry. "I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry: the Minister of Magic. You've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you, running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're safe, and that's what matters."
The first two lemonades floated in our direction, towards Harry and the Minister. Cornelius Fudge thanked my brother and rose the glass.
"To your good health, Harry. Now—you will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all, which means that's that, and no harm done."
Harry blinked and opened his mouth as if to say something—and then closed it again, apparently uncertain of what to say.
The Minister chuckled somewhat before adding, "Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle? I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer so long as you stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter holidays."
"I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," Harry remarked, "and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive."
"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel different once you've calmed down," said Fudge, worry lacing his voice. But he kept his smile upon his face as he added, "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other… erm… very deep down."
Robbie returned to the living room, handed me my lemonade, and conjured a plate of biscuits on the coffee table.
Fudge reached for a biscuit and gestured for Harry to do the same. After taking a large bite, he said, "So all that remains is to determine where you'll be spending the last few weeks of your vacation."
"Harry is more than welcome to remain here, Minister, I assure you," said Robbie as he grabbed a biscuit for himself.
"Hang on—what about my punishment?" blurted out Harry, who had been looking flabbergasted this entire time.
The Minister blinked and repeated, "Punishment?"
"I broke the law! The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"
"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that! It was an accident. We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"
This last made me laugh. I reached for a biscuit and grabbed another one to give to Harry.
Harry, however, didn't bite into it just yet. His mouth agape, he exclaimed, "Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house! The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there…"
Fudge took another bite of his biscuit and replied, holding a hand to his mouth to cover it, "Circumstances change, Harry. We have to take into account, in the present climate… surely you don't want to be expelled?"
"Of course I don't."
"Then what's all the fuss about?" chuckled Fudge, finishing off his snack. "Have another biscuit, why won't you? I've got to exchange a few words with Mr. Skylar in the meantime…"
And with that, the Minister rose from his chair and walked into the kitchen, summoning Robbie to follow.
The exact moment that it was just the two of us, I whirled back to Harry and whispered, trying everything in my power not to burst out laughing, "You blew up your aunt?"
Noting the amusement on my face, Harry grinned lopsidedly and started to tell me about how horrible his uncle's sister was, the comments that she made: how his father was a drunk, useless, and his mother was just the same. I felt my face become hot with anger with each further word from his mouth; I couldn't blame Harry at all for what he'd done, even if it was accidentally.
When he reached the part of the story where he ran away from the Dursleys' and was sitting on the curbside, he stopped and swallowed hard.
"What is it?" I murmured. "You're uncertain about something…"
"Yeah—but only because I'm not sure if this next part actually happened."
And Harry proceeded to tell me that while he was sitting on the sidewalk, he saw something across the street: a large silhouette, almost wolf-like, with piercing yellow eyes. It had been looking directly at him.
I frowned upon hearing this. There was no way that a wolf should be anywhere near Privet Drive… with this in my mind, I murmured, "Might've been a large dog that got out of a yard."
"Yeah. Might've," he answered. But his tone told me he wasn't convinced.
As I looked upon Harry, I realized that even over the past two months, he'd grown. He was definitely a couple of inches taller, and there was more definition to his cheekbones. His black hair was still a mess—I was glad to see that hadn't changed, at least. It was fun to mess with his hair.
"It's really good to see you, Harry," I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder for a short moment. "You'll stay with us, right? We've got a lot of space, we could play Quidditch, and there's a small lake a two minute walk away where Robbie and I like to go swimming. We bake all the time, too, just tell us what you like and we'll—"
I stopped short, realizing how badly I had been rambling. Besides, Harry was grinning, and part of me suspected it was because I was being ridiculous.
"Of course I'll stay," he answered, his eyes bright. "Like I'd want to go back to the Dursleys, right? And it's good to see you too. You look… well."
I laughed and waved a dismissive hand, both suddenly and horrifically aware of my attire. "Don't give me that. I'm covered in paint and I haven't gotten to clean myself up yet."
"You paint? I never knew that!"
"Just a little, and usually only when I'm alone. I've got some extra paints and canvases if you'd like to try sometime…"
Before Harry had a chance to reply, the Minister returned to the living room, a jovial smile once again on his face. He stuck out a hand in Harry's direction, and my friend shook it. "Nice to meet you, Harry, and you as well, Belle! I should be going now. Thank you for your hospitality, and a good evening to you all."
I waved farewell to the Minister, who tipped his hat and walked out of the house before Disapparating with yet another sharp crack.
Once he was gone, Robbie returned to the living room and exclaimed, "Welcome to our house, Harry. Make yourself at home—there's plenty of snacks and drinks lying around if you get hungry. I'll go and put your trunk in the guest room to the left of mine. Belle, when you head to sleep, would you mind showing him?"
I nodded eagerly, which made Robbie smile. He moved to go put the trunk in the guest room, leaving us sitting in the living room.
"Want to watch a movie, Harry?" I asked, gesturing to the television. Despite my family being almost entirely witches and wizards, Robbie and I thought the Muggles had certainly gotten a few things right, a television and movies being two of them. "We've got a whole cabinet, come and see!"
Harry, however, didn't seem to hear my words. He had glanced over to one of the side tables where my latest project had been sitting; a painting of blues and reds, as well as a few shades of green. It had been my attempt to picture what our final Quidditch match would've looked and felt like, had we been able to play it out the previous year.
"Is that the pitch?" he asked, pointing towards the bronze hoops that barely seemed to take shape within the canvas.
My face grew warm. "Yeah... I'm—I'm surprised you recognized it, honestly. My paintings are never too skilled, ithey're mostly something I do when I need to let something out…"
Harry's smile grew ever so slightly. "Do you have more of them?"
"Erm—yeah—upstairs. Did you...?"
I didn't finish my sentence, realizing how dumb of a question it would be. Who in their right mind ever truly indulged in other people's hobbies that they held no interest in? Especially when said hobbies were as amateur as my own?
"Yeah, I'd like to see them."
Apparently the answer to that was Harry Potter.
Although I was sure they wouldn't be interesting at all, I acquiesced, waving Harry onward so we could head up to my room. I was grateful that I had cleaned it a couple days ago, because the pile of dirty clothes would've been mortifying. Luckily, when we stepped through the doorway, the only thing that was messy was the bed, upon which canvases and paints were strewn.
"It's not much," I heard myself say. My eyes landed on my desk, which I had cleared off earlier in the day—all of my letters were in the top drawer, as was the Galleon that Draco had given me. Harry, meanwhile, was looking around the walls, where all of my favorite paintings were hanging.
"That one's the Great Hall," he murmured, walking to the far end of the room. He was nodding towards my recollection of the Great Hall the very first night we'd arrived at Hogwarts. The details weren't crisp—in fact, the colors were a bit blurred together—but a pang of pride seared through my chest upon realizing Harry could still recognize it.
He then looked towards all the others and seemed to realize that the picture of the Great Hall was the one that was different from all the others. Turning back to me, he asked, "The rest of them are mixes of colors. What does that mean?"
I blinked, surprised that he thought to ask. "I usually only paint when I can't really… express how I feel. It's easiest for me to do that by splotching paint on a canvas to convey what I felt in the moment. It's… sort of a disorganized chaos."
He pointed to the one on the western wall and raised an eyebrow. I looked it over; it was full of yellow and green, with occasional splotches of blue and white.
"When you let me ride on your broomstick, during first year," I murmured, smiling a little. His Nimbus 2000 had been incredible, but now, I had my own.
Harry grinned and walked over to the next one: this one was blues and purples, with the slightest hint of silver around the borders of the canvas.
"I actually completed that one the night you and Ron were frantically working on the star chart for Astronomy. You were the only one in the common room at midnight when I started this project, and you were asleep on the couch. It's supposed to show what it felt like to see Hermione petrified. The silver at the edge was me trying to find the silver lining that at least she wasn't…"
I trailed off, letting Harry come to the conclusion on his own. He then walked towards my newest project, aside from the one in the living room—this one was by far the darkest. The whole canvas was black save for the middle, which had a single emerald green line. At the very tip of that line was a splotch of red. And in front of it all, one white spot, vaguely reminiscent of a human silhouette.
Harry didn't say anything as he stood in front of it. The look on his face suggested that he already knew what it was supposed to mean.
Feeling like I had to say something, I mumbled, "I know you said we saved each other, but the fact of the matter is… without you, I—"
I was cut off by him pulling me close, resting his cheek on the top of my head. The gesture made me smile; it was nothing less than a relief to have him with me after a summer that, despite having my older brother around for, had still been incredibly lonely.
Hi guys, sorry for the long wait between updates. I've been spending a lot of time on other projects while also trying to edit this work's chapters; some of them were in desperate need of a slight rework, lol! I hope you'll accept this offering as an apology :) I also have a couple other chapters ready for publishing too, so it shouldn't be as long of a wait next time!
Thanks for reading. I hope you take care of yourselves and have a lovely day!
