Part 9

Harry spent the rest of the day going between his room and the living room.

Even though Harry had lived with the Dursley's for sixteen years, there was not anything to show he existed. There were no pictures of him, no drawings that he would proudly bring home when he was younger, nothing. It was if he had never lived there, as if in truth there were only three in the Dursley household.

Taking advantage of the Dursley's absence, Harry sat down to watch some television, not news, but just regular T.V shows. As he flipped channels, one of them caught his eye. It was a show called, "Sabrina, the Teenage Witch." Thinking that it might have something to do with the wizarding world, Harry sat down to watch, Whiskers curled up in his lap.

After watching it for a couple minutes, Harry was laughing. The show was about a young teenager who lived with her two loving aunts and found out that she had magical powers. Each episode portrayed the girl trying to balance her human and magical life. In Harry's opinion, it was a little stupid. "I don't see why her aunts let her make so many mistakes. They should teach her to control her magic," Harry said, talking conversationally to Whiskers.

The cat nodded understandingly and Harry laughed.

It was nice to have another creature around the house.

Harry sat watching the show until he heard a car outside on the road. Quickly, he turned off the television and ran upstairs to his room. Grabbing a book off his shelf, he sat down on his bed and started to read.

It was a perfectly normal book, but it was tattered and some of the pages were ripped; yet another of Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Harry smiled, remembering the time that his aunt and uncle had forbidden Dudley to watch T.V., wanting instead to improve their son's reading skills like his teacher had suggested.

Dudley had been in a foul mood the entire week that his parents had kept it up for. He had thrown books around, ripped their pages, burnt a few and even flushed a couple down the toilet.

This was one of the books that Harry had rescued as a child. Looking down at it, Harry smiled to see the title: James and the Giant Peach. It was one that Petunia had brought home from the library for her son, but Dudley had 'lost' it and so it was never returned.

It was a small book, but Harry pretended to read it all the same, knowing that should the Dursleys come in they wouldn't care either way.

"Harry!!" Uncle Vernon's voice thundered up the stairs.

"Yes Uncle Vernon?" Harry answered, coming to the top railing and looking over, on his face, a puzzled look. Uncle Vernon never called him by his name.

"Come downstairs and make lunch for us if you please. We have company over and your aunt is entertaining," Uncle Vernon said, glaring up at Harry to cooperate.

Harry suppressed a grin. He knew his uncle would never have asked so nicely without a reason. "Sure Uncle Vernon," he said, coming down the stairs. "If you'll consider doing something for me."

Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed and his neck flushed, his face turning red again. "What is it, boy?" he asked, clenching his fists to keep his anger down.

Harry smiled. This was the best time to ask his uncle, when there were outsiders in the house so Vernon would have to act kindly. "I was wondering Uncle if perhaps you would consider letting me go to my friend's house at the beginning of August. His brother is getting married and I would stay with them for the rest of the summer."

Uncle Vernon thought for a moment. "I will consider it," he said, slowly.

Harry nodded. "Thank you Uncle," he said, and went into the kitchen. He didn't tell his uncle that after his seventeenth birthday, the Dursley's home would no longer be his. After his birthday, the magic that kept Voldemort and his followers away from Harry, that protected him, would not apply anymore. After he reached seventeen, Harry was technically 'of age' and could not be protected by family. The magic that had protected him all his life, ever since his mother's sacrifice, would be gone. After the magic was gone, Harry would be susceptible to whatever Voldemort threw at him. And Harry knew that he must leave before then, to protect the Dursleys. Even though he held no great love in his heart for the Dursleys, they had sheltered him his whole life and he did not wish to set the wrath of the 'Dark Lord' on them.

Harry shook these morbid thoughts from his head and decided to make sandwiches for his uncle and his guests. His aunt had left out potato salad, and there was tuna in the fridge, so Harry made tuna sandwiches. When he was done, he filled five glasses with lemonade and put all the food on a tray. His aunt and uncle were entertaining in the living room.

Harry smiled to himself as he entered the room, remembering the time almost three years ago when Mr. Weasley had blown the Dursley's fireplace into the living room. He suppressed the smile though when he came in sight of the Dursleys.

"Here," he said, putting the tray down on the glass coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Why Vernon, who is this strapping young man?" a woman cried as Harry stood up to go. Looking over, Harry assumed that the woman was Mrs. Jameson, the wife of Vernon's new clients. She was a slim and pretty woman with soft brown eyes and hair pulled up into a bun.

Uncle Vernon grunted. "This is my nephew, Harry. He lives with us. Very happy here, aren't you boy?"
Harry knew what answer he had to give. "Yes Uncle Vernon," he said through gritted teeth.

Mrs. Jameson frowned. "Something the matter, Harry?" she asked in concern, moving forward on the couch.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm fine, thanks Mrs. Jameson. Just had a…toothache for a minute there," he lied quickly.

Mrs. Jameson smiled and squeezed Harry's hand reassuringly. "Well I think that he should be taken to the dentist, don't you, dear?" she asked, turning to her husband.

Mr. Jameson was a portly, balding man. He was slightly taller than his wife and his eyes were a kind blue as well.

For a moment, Harry wondered why such a nice couple would want to have anything to do with the Dursleys.

Mr. Jameson nodded quickly. "Yes, yes Violet, of course. Now Dursley, back to business…."

Extracting his hand from Mrs. Jameson's Harry left the room and went back upstairs, knowing he would only be called upon to clear the dishes. When he got up into his room, he saw that Hedwig had returned and was looking wary of the cat lying on the bed.

"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, going forward to greet his bird.

The white snow owl hooted softly and nuzzled Harry's hand with her beak.

"Where were you?" Harry asked.

The snowy owl just tossed her head and looked back at the cat.

Harry turned to see what she was looking at and laughed. "Oh, I forgot. Hedwig, this is Whiskers. Don't worry, he won't hurt you," Harry reassured her.

Whiskers, almost as if to prove he was harmless, sat up and began to wash himself, not paying any attention to the owl sitting on top of her cage.

"Now, I have a letter for you to deliver to Ron, all right? And please try to get home sometime tonight."

Hedwig hooted, as if giving her assent and, letting Harry tie the message around her leg, she flew away.

Harry's eyes dimmed as he watched the white disappear into the sunset. His shoulders slumped, and he sunk down into his chair. Putting his head into his hands, Harry let the desolation sweep over him. He probably would have given into it entirely were it not for Whiskers who climbed into his lap. Smiling down, he scratched the brown, black and grey cat behind the ears.

"Thanks Whiskers," he whispered, wiping his eyes impatiently and getting up. No time for desolation when he had a mission after all.