Chapter 3: Owl Post

Harry read and re-read the letter in the privacy of his room. He still couldn't believe the gall of these so-called 'keepers of justice and peace' could try and pull this on him. Who suffered being called a liar and ostracized by his own school mates because he told the truth: that Voldermort was back? Who informed everyone of his return? Who helped catch all these Death eaters when no one would believe him the year before when he named some very controversial names?

"They can't be serious. I'll wake up any moment now…."

But the words did not help to alleviate his new predicament. If found guilty, he would be sent unceremoniously to Azkaban. Right now he needed to write Dumbledore (much as he hated to ask him for anything) only he could help him now. He unrolled some parchment from his trunk, only to be frustrated that he had no quills.

"What else is new?" he grumbled. His sour mood now turned for the worse. As he paced around his room searching for one, a light tapping came at his window. Turning, he saw another owl with mail for him.

"This better be good news," he threatened the owl. The owl seemed to take this threat seriously and ruffled his chest and back feathers, puffing up himself for battle. Looking down at the letter, he absentmindedly waved his hand at the owl and it shrieked, blowing away in a high gust, the window sill and panes crashing out of the wall and out some fifteen feet before falling with a muffled crash on the neighbour's hedge. Harry froze, watching his destroyed window sill out of the corner of his eye. He blinked once, then twice, hoping he was imagining things.

"Blimey...", in a perfect Ron imitation. "How the...?" He leaned out the hole in his wall, and looked down at the hedge below. The window frame was broken and the glass had shattered. "Did the window just commit suicide?" he asked himself. Usually this would be fixed in a second with his wand, but as he was not allowed to do so- this was a big problem. Putting priorities first -he decided to read the letter first then deal with this window problem later. Unsurprisingly, it was from the headmaster himself.

"He must have learnt that 'in the nick of time' luck charm over these many years," Harry muttered, not being able to suppress a smile.

Dear Harry,

I presume that you have received the post from the Ministry. You are not to worry. I should have things patched up in presumably three hours and six minutes. However, you would still need to present yourself to court on the given day. Unfortunately, they are adamant in their view that you have broken the law. The order is powerless to stop this, I'm afraid. Harry fear not, I shall help prepare your defence with your attorney. It seems that I cannot represent you because they believe that we have conspired in the past, and politely requested that you find someone else to defend you, and once again, you have nothing to worry about. I sorted out this matter with one of the top Wizard lawyers in the United Kingdom: Maureen Chang. She said she would be honoured to defend you in this case. Your first appointment with her is one week from now, at her office located in Chelsea. I have directions enclosed in the envelope.

I will meet you there. Take care.

Best regards
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts.

p.s Mr. Ludo Bagman also has something you may want to hear. Look out for his owl soon.

Well, that was efficient.

He always appreciated the professor's help but for once can these things NOT happen to him so that he could have something resembling a normal life? No- it was way beyond that point. People have died fighting for his sake. If for nothing else, he would not hide and cry any more – he won't let Sirius, nor his parents, die for nothing. With a newfound determination, Harry went downstairs to see if he could get this window pane sorted out before his aunt and uncle found out. Things may not be okay, but one thing at a time. He went around back, passing the gym Dudley worked out in. He went to the hedge, stretched up and grabbed the window pane.

"OOOWW! Oh shi..!"

Immediately, he yanked back his hand, a sharp piece of glass protruding out of his palm. Pulling it out, he watched the cut ooze blood at a slow, steady rate.

Damn. Brilliant, Harry- just brilliant. You escape Voldermort a few times yet can't handle a broken window. You're some hero He cringed, laughed out loud to nullify the pain. His outburst had alerted Dudley, so he turned at the crunching sound of feet approaching him.

"Whatcha doing?" said Dudley in that ' I'm gonna tell ' voice Harry hated.

"My window fell out. Termites," Harry lied.

"Termites? We haven't any termites!"

"Yeah? Says who?"

"Says ME!"

"Who are YOU to tell ME anything?" Harry retorted.

"I'm the one who could smash your face in!"

"Hah!" Harry laughed in his face. "Whatever Duddykins. Believe what you want. If that's all...?"

It was clearly a dismissal. He turned to find something he could stand on to get some more height. Dudley was not one to be told off, especially his puny little cousin. He snuck up behind him, aiming for a spot high in Harry's back. But something peculiar happened to Harry. Images of a boxing gym and a burly instructor came flashing thru in his mind's eye, showing a pair of podgy, pale arms. In his vision, he did a smooth step forward, drawing his fist, and punching straight into a padded glove –

…Duck!

WHAM! Harry felt it flush in his right shoulder blade, a cheap shot to the back. It floored him, only managing to break his fall at the last possible second with his hands. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

"HAH ! WHO'S LAUGHING NOW POTTER?' cackling, Dudley turned away laughing to himself." What a punk..."

Harry lay there still. His forehead pressed against his arms. The blow hurt, but this is not what had him in a state. The flashes of Dudley's training session were more a mystery to him. Now that had NEVER happened before. The only thing that came close was Snape's occlumency class. But he never tried it himself before, and never with a muggle. But he saw it, clear as day, the ropes, the red gloves, the instructor. What was even more spooky was that tardy warning…

Dammit. Sirius, I need you around for these kinds of things.

He pushed himself up, only to have gotten dirt unto his cut, which immediately started to sting. Blinking once or twice, he cleared his head, and now and the pain in his hand was increasing. He carefully took the window frame back to the house, snuck upstairs with it and set out to work.

It was pouring outside. The makeshift window pane made of an old shower curtain was doing it's best to keep the dampness and cold out but was not doing such a good job. The frame held for the past few days ( it didn't fit properly) so he prayed it would hold out some more. At the moment, Harry was reading Ron's second letter to him since school let out, the first was a customary 'how are you' letter and informed him that England's Under Twenty-one Quidditch squad was having a friendly later that summer in preparation for the Euro Championships. Harry found this quite interesting until, in the predictable trend of his bad luck (and even worse sense of timing) he found out that the England team were not taking any more members for tryouts.

Just another instance of not being informed costing him. So much for sending in his application. Not that they would let him play: The Order, that is. He was sure Dumbledore would have him cooped up her until it was time to meet this Chang woman. Harry responded and told Ron that everything was fine. He avoided telling Ron that he was about to stand trial, the finality of putting it in writing would sink the nail in the coffin. He did, however, tell Ron that he had to see Oliver Wood play for the England. Puddlemore United had signed him on contract and for the past year he was monopolising the posts at the club with an amazing record for a rookie. His excellent performances earned him his spot between the hoops for England.

Ron's second letter did not have the jovial air as the first one.

HARRY, HOW CAN YOU HAVE NOT TOLD ME! I OVERHEARD PERCY THE OTHER DAY IN THE FIREPLACE ABOUT YOUR SUMMONS! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?

You thought that if you didn't tell me you wouldn't have to deal with it being a big deal AM I RIGHT? Man, I am here if you want to talk- that's what mates are for! You haven't told Hermione yet have you? Of course you did not. We both know she would read every law book possible for your defence. But that might be a good thing. Anyway Harry I'm gonna be there each and every day of your hearing. You hear me?

AND YOU BETTER TELL HERMOINE BEFORE SHE COMES CHARGING DOWN YOUR DOOR!

Oh yeah, cross your fingers, we might be able to get tickets to England- Bulgaria friendly. Fred got some contacts. It's gonna be way cool. Too bad we have to see Vicky again. Damn. I still don't trust him. Do you think Hermione still writes him?

Ron

Harry sighed. He picked up Hermione's latest letter.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I know you have a lot on your mind. I'm just writing another letter, well, just in case the first one did not reach you. Are your aunt and uncle treating you okay? I wish you never had to go back there. It sounds so horrible. I've been doing some research on what we should study for NEWTS. I think Olden magic and Archaeology sounds interesting, don't you think? I totally aced my Ancient runes Owl –I hope. Only a few more weeks until results! Aren't you excited? I hope you are revising for the new year.

I loved your Patronus at the end of last year. You really should have seen the look on Umbridge's face. I'm so glad she's gone. She was a dotty old bat wasn't she? Harry, you know, if you have anything you want to tell me, I'm only an owl away. Anything at all, we can talk about anything. Please mail me back. I want to know how you are feeling since- Anyway, you know what I mean. I miss him as well. It's not the end of the world Harry. There are other people who care for you, don't forget that.

Your friend,
Hermione.

He should respond to her letter. It was the nice thing to do, even if he didn't feel like writing anyone right now. He started the letter with a ballpoint pen on normal paper (it tore the parchment) to Hermione. Halfway through writing the grisly details of the summons when another owl landed on the sill, ripped a hole through the shower curtain large enough to slip through, and jumped down to the floor, dripping wet. It was carrying a letter tied to its leg. Harry took it off, and the owl made his way out of there in a hurry. He noticed letter was charmed with the same water repellent spell Hermione had used on his glasses to prevent the rain from clouding his vision. To his surprise, there was an official stamp of the Three Lions Emblem outlined with a Snitch. Harry's heart raced. This must be Bagman's letter! He ripped open the envelope:

Harry!

Heard you got yourself in a nice little mix up now after that fracas at the Ministry! But that's my boy! You show those maniacs you mean business! Anyway, I got a favour to ask you. Well actually I'm doing YOU a favour. Our current England team is up and roaring to go, except for one thing: our starting seeker got into a bit of wand mischief and managed to wipe away his Quidditch memories! Now if that isn't sabotage I don't know what is! Our reserve seeker is up to the challenge but he's the only one we've got. So grab your gear, find your sorry arse down here and tryout for the reserve team. I have heard impressive stories from Wood about you! Said you have never failed to catch a snitch before (well excluding that Dementor interlude) and have won the Quidditch cup at Hogwarts in quite the spectacular fashion in the third year- Charged down the Janger Blocking Defence strategy, using the death defying Catapult manoeuvre in combination with the Spearhead Assault to allow your chaser to score- all brilliant, and from what Oliver says, you caught the snitch right after! I had to see it to believe it. That's why I was particularly interested in your Dragon Task at the Tri Wizard Tournament. You have some talent, Potter. Report to the Chelsea Blues pitch for training on the fourteenth and fifteenth July at 7 a.m.

L. Bagman

"Dumbledore knew!" Harry grinned, jumping once or twice excitedly. He couldn't help it. Screw Azkaban- he was going to play Quidditch! Grinning from ear to ear he finished off his letter to Hermione, apologising for taking so long to write back after receiving her first two letters and quickly signed his name. Waking Hedwig from her sleep, he attached the note to her leg, and as an afterthought, wrote Ron a short letter
saying he may not need the tickets and would write him again soon to tell him why. He snickered. Let him stew at the Burrow for a while. He wanted to see him in person to tell him about Bagman's letter.

In her house at Chelsea, a young girl sighed as she sat at her favourite reading spot, in the window seat of her study. Somehow, she felt hurt that Harry did not respond as yet. Dumbledore wrote her and told her of Harry's summons, and she wrote him at once. Hermione wrote two letters a few days apart, hoping that Harry would return her mail and confide in her. She made the first move so that Harry would have had an opportunity to tell her what was happening without him feeling that he was running to her for help. Men and their egos! It was almost a week since the last letter and still he hasn't written back, not even to say a simple hello. Hermione was teetering on the brink of madness. Not hearing from Harry but knowing that Ron had heard from him was a deep blow, even if it was not something against her personally. At a time like this he should have at least replied and tell her how he was feeling! If he did not want to tell her about the summons, okay, but at least have some common courtesy towards his friends! Especially me!

Well if he can't at least write back I shouldn't have to force myself to help him!

But deep inside she knew better- she would have helped him anyway. But sitting here, all alone, looking out for a snow-white owl was just pathetic. But try as she might, worrying over Ron and Harry was a part of her now and lamely she resigned herself to having her daily routines interrupted by some intense sky gazing every now and then.