CHAPTER THREE

As had become habit on nights he couldn't sleep, Harry pried open the loose floor-board below his bed and pulled out the neat stack of letters from that summer.

He had received a few from Fred and George already; they talked about pranks they had pulled on the family, new invention ideas, and any number of random, mundane, or border-line crude bits of commentary. They never pestered him with questions, or concerned tirades on serious matters, but without fail each letter had been signed "Always Got Your Back – Gred and Forge."

Hermione had written as well; both her letters had begun with a polite tidbit about her summer, followed by a long lecture on not doing anything foolish with regards to Sirius (always dubbed "Snuffles" in their letters, just in case), getting his homework done, and keeping control of his temper with his relatives, then finally ending with well wishes and vague reassurances that Ron would 'get over it' soon, and they would all properly catch up when they saw each other later that summer.

Sirius himself had not yet sent a letter the magical way, but Harry had received four blank postcards the muggle way, signed only with a tiny paw-print drawn in the corner, so he knew that Sirius was alive and traveling. The first three had been from various places in France, and the last from Northern Spain. A part of Harry was nervous that Sirius was leaving clues about his whereabouts, but the postcards were a steady reminder to his relatives of what (or rather, who) awaited them if they treated Harry too badly this summer, and Harry couldn't deny that both the protection and the peace of mind the postcards provided were appreciated.

The top two letters were the ones he pulled out of the stack to spread open. First, the letter that he had received from Ron, at last:

Harry –

Hope your summer's going well. Fred and George are driving me batty, I
swear they've pulled more pranks on me than the rest of the family combined,
the prats. At least you don't have that to deal with at the Muggles'!

Anyway, dad thinks he can get us all tickets to the World Cup this summer from
someone at work. It's going to be wicked! You'll stay with us after that, I'll
send you details later on.

– Ron

It was just so typically Ron. No apology, not even any mention of the fight and subsequent weeks of silence, just a complaint, a bit about Quidditch, and that was that. Harry shook his head half in exasperation and half in fondness for his predictable, temperamental friend, and then returned the letter to the pile. He was just glad no one was mad at him anymore.

The second letter was his pen-pal's return, and he carefully unfolded the well-read parchment to read it one last time, then set it next to him on the bed and began to write his response.

Dear Shadow,

I know I promised not to press the issue, but I can't help but wonder if you and I chose to remain anonymous in this exchange for similar reasons. I, too, have an image that precedes me, and seems to blind most people to who I am as a person. I quite like your description of a shadow… I have always thought of the experience as being forced to wear a burdensome mask. I rather think I will have to come up with some other way to choose my own nick-name, however; "Mask" simply doesn't have as nice a ring to it as "Shadow."

I suppose I cannot speak for your verbal abilities, but if your first letter was anything to go by, I don't think your English skills are at all lacking. I was actually quite impressed. As for myself… I suppose I do speak a second language of sorts, though not one I have had to study, so I can't say it helps me empathize. You'll have to forgive me, but that is all I am willing to say on the topic.

I had not realized my first letter was so glum; I certainly did not intend to whine about my holidays. You're quite correct that most students look forward to the time away from school in the summer, but for me, Hogwarts is the only true home I remember. I live with my mother's relatives, as I mentioned. They are muggles, and uncomfortable with magic. My mother was a muggle-born—I know from a friend that Durmstrang does not accept muggle-borns and half-bloods. I also know, however, that an individual's feelings on a matter do not always align with the larger group's. I hope this is not a breaking point in our burgeoning friendship, but I can't bring myself to apologize if it is.

I was excited to see that you play seeker—I do as well. I play on my house team at school, and miss it terribly in the summers. One of my best friends mentioned that his father thinks he'll be able to get tickets to the world cup this year, and invited me along. We ended the year on rough terms and I hadn't heard from him all summer, so I would have been happy for an invite to de-gnome his garden with him at this point, but this was exponentially better. I've never seen a professional Quidditch game, and I must admit the idea is exciting, though I'd best try not to get my hopes up for now. Have you seen much Quidditch outside of school games?

As for the phoenix, it's not so incredible, really. Fawkes (that is his name) is the familiar of Headmaster Dumbledore. I was in a bit of a fix my second year and Fawkes came to help. He ended up healing an injury with his tears—they have magical healing abilities, as it turns out—and then carried me out of… um, where I was. He is quite a remarkable creature, though, there is no denying it.

I have never learned any sort of formal self-defense like martial arts, though dodging my cousin and his friends as a child might qualify as 'escape and evasion tactics.' I have a rather distracting bruise on my side, at the moment, which is reminding me I need to do a bit of practice of my own. I always seem to let myself get a bit too complacent during the school year, only to be reminded when I return to my aunt and uncle's house that I've gotten a little slow. No matter; I always get back in shape before too long, and if my cousin can't catch me his little gang aren't much of a threat.

As I re-read my letter thus far, I wonder if I haven't already shared more about my summer than is wise. This sort of openness is not common from me, and it makes me more than a little nervous. I think you'll laugh, but it is something you said in your letter that keeps prompting me to share—that you feel protective of me. I don't know that I've ever had that, at least not that I remember.

I still don't know what you should call me. I'm not all that special, really.

I hope you will still choose to write back.

-A Friend

He set his quill down and looked at both letters critically. It was true, Hermione had told the entire common room all she knew about the two foreign schools at the end of last term, and Harry remembered feeling uneasy hearing about a school that barred muggle-borns and half-bloods. Somehow, though, Harry just had a gut feeling that his pen-pal wouldn't care who Lily's parents had been. He knew he was probably being a little reckless with what he had revealed about the Dursleys… he never even spoke that openly with Ron and Hermione about his life here… but there was something empowering about finally sharing his story, even if it was with a perfect stranger, and it wasn't as if they knew they were getting letters from Harry Potter anyway.

He ran a finger again over the now-smudged line in his partner's letter that said he felt protective of Harry. It had stunned him the first time he read it, re-reading the words five times over before he was able to drag his eyes away to finish the letter. He realized, through this assignment, that he had never had the chance to get to know someone as 'just Harry.' Growing up, he had been Dudley's freak cousin, and the moment he entered the wizarding world, the weight of the Boy-Who-Lived had settled onto his shoulders. It was exhilarating, and though he sorely missed Hedwig in her absence, he was eager to send another letter off.

He had asked the others about their pen-pals, wondering if their experiences were anything like his own. Fred and George, naturally, were using their correspondence as yet another chance for mischief. Fred, who had been assigned a witch from Beauxbatons, had used his first letter to express his un-dying love for her, which included a jumble of cheesy love poems with horrendous rhyming and incredibly awful Hogwarts-themed innuendos (he had been quite distraught at the missed opportunity when Harry had offered up a particularly clever one about the Chamber of Secrets and Slytherin in his reply, and swore to work it into the next letter if his pen-pal actually dared write back). George, who was writing to a bloke from Durmstrang, had recorded word-for-word one of Percy's self-important rants on cauldron bottoms from his 'vital work' at the Ministry. The parchment had ended up over four feet long, and had ended with a heartfelt promise to be more thorough in the next letter when he wasn't in such a time crunch. Harry was fairly sure that both twins were hoping their pen-pals refused to respond, thus excusing them from the assignment.

Hermione, being Hermione, had steadfastly followed the purpose of the project and spent the first half of her letter detailing British customs and school traditions, and the second half politely smothering her pen-pal with questions of her own. She was the only one, aside from Harry, who had received a response so far: a young man from Beauxbatons who—according to the twins—seemed more interested in In Hermione's looks and whether or not she was single than any fort of cultural exchange. Hermione, to put it lightly, was less than amused.

As for Ron… Harry thought he should be more surprised than he was, but hadn't really been shocked when he heard that Ron had bribed Ginny to do the assignment for him (she had missed the age requirement by a year) in exchange for taking her share of garden de-gnoming for the entire summer. Little did he know that Molly had spoken with Ginny just that morning about taking over the chore as her own for the summer, deciding that rather than cycling through her children for various tasks and mediating inevitable fighting over whose turn it was to do what, each child would have their own assigned job for the summer. Ron had been furious when he figured out how he had been tricked, but—not wanting to admit to Molly that he had asked Ginny to do his schoolwork—had been forced to follow through. Ginny, for her part, had written a friendly letter to a Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons... and conveniently 'forgot' to mention to Ron that she had written it as herself, rather than signing it in his name. Fourteen years living with the twins really should have taught him to be more specific in the deals he made by now.

Harry couldn't help but smile, thinking about the mischief his friends were up to with their summer assignment. He, himself, was completely satisfied with how his own letter-writing was progressing.

"You up for another long trip, girl?" He asked Hedwig, smoothing the white feathers that had rumpled up around her neck with a gentle, loving caress. She preened and nudged his hand with her beak, just as carefully as he was handling her. "Of course you are, you talented beauty. Thank you so much for helping me with this, Hedwig," he praised her as he tied his letter securely to one of her legs. "Be safe, and take your time; I can't wait to see you again, though." With that, he carried her over to the window and let her launch off his arm, watching her until she was just a speck in the distant sky, and then had disappeared from sight altogether.

Author Note: Oh how I wish I had the creativity to actually write the twins' letters to their pen-pals... Alas. I think my only real irritation with this chapter is Harry's reaction to Ron's note. The Slytherin in me cringes at the utter Gryffindor-ness (shush, that can totally be a word).

A few people have asked about the various pen-pals of other characters. To be honest, this is about the extent of what is mentioned in this story. Emil mentions in passing later that he has one, but that's about it. The only one of significance is Ron/Ginny's pen-pal being Fleur, which I have plans for if I do a sequel and continue further into the tournament with this series, but won't be important in this 12 chapter 'part one.'

Speaking of Ginny, this is first fic I've ever written where I am truly fond of her character from the start. She's always annoyed the hell out of me in canon (although I admit that may be less about her and more about the fact that I really really think Harry Potter should be gay...), so I have a hard time not taking it out on her character in my stories. I rather like this one though. Really, this story made me such a sap. :P

Hope you're enjoying it!

-Emmette