A/N: I am so very sorry about my tardiness. Please forgive this lazy writer who does her best.
Disclaimer: I disclaim…any right to owner ship of Harry Potter. Those reside with the talented J.K. Rowling who is richer than the Queen of England and lives in a mansion. Do I live in a mansion? No I do not. Nor do I own this plot idea, it was adopted from PlotBunny2010.
Speech= "blah"
Thoughts= blah
A/N= blah
Chapter 2: The Letter
July 29 (3 Days to go…)
Down the street of Privet Drive, on a sweltering summer day, a scrawny child crouched in front of house number 4 pulling weeds from the flowerbeds. The weeds that had the nerve, the audacity, in their desire for life to grow in his aunt's garden. Harry rather sympathized for the weeds; in fact, he thought they should be able to grow wherever they pleased. They weren't at all ugly nor did they grossly out populate the colorful fake-looking flowers. They had to go simply because of what they were. It kind of depressed him actually.
Quit your whining. They're just plants. came the voice Harry had gotten so familiar with since they discovered the other's existence three years ago.
Harry sighed. Yes, but they have every right to be there. And where have you been? I haven't felt you around in nearly a week.
I've been busy selecting a suitable wizard with a weak mind to become my temporary vassal.
Harry had, sadly, become used to these sort of comments. He still thought Tom was off his rocker when he tried to tell Harry that he was a spectoral entity located somewhere in Britain (he always managed to fail to mention where though) or when he said that he was a wizard and Harry was too. Though when he wasn't talking strangely Tom was an okay (despite a mental connection, still not Mr. social skills) guy, so Harry didn't mind too much. Despite the occasional threats of physical violence when he got his body back, Harry thought the two of them had become friends.
And how did that go?
Harry often played along with whatever Tom said because in the beginning when he didn't, Tom would get really angry and frustrated. He'd mention all sorts of horrible ways to torture and kill Harry, some of which were so explicit in detail, he worried that Tom was a murderer somewhere (he didn't yet know that Tom was and is, in fact, a murderer somewhere). Whenever Harry thought to remind Tom, in the middle of his death threats, that even if (heavy emphasis on the if) he were an all powerful dark force somehow turned into a semi-solid ghost-like thing, he still had to be civil to him because, unfortunately, he didn't have anyone else, Tom would get sulky and irritable and ignore him for a week.
Well. I believe that soon I will be back to my full strength and old self. I also think that I will be able to see you soon.
Oh, really? Do tell.
No, I don't think I will. Something should be coming to collect you any day now.
And what might that be?
You'll just have to wait and see now won't you?
You think you're so-
"Hey, who told you to take a break?" came a voice from behind Harry.
A rather hard knee in the back sent him, arms wheeling for balance, into the flowerbeds. Ow.
He squinted into the sunlight blinding him, and had high suspicions, based on the alarming large silhouette that it was Dudley who had pushed him. And from the smaller boys standing behind him, it appeared Dudley had brought his gang to play. Oh joy.
"We're bored freak." And what, pray, do you want me to do about that lardo? "It's been a while since we've had a good old game of Harry Hunting, right?" I don't think a week counts as a long while. His cousin continued undeterred by the flat stare sent his way. "-and since we know you love it when you get to play with us, we've decided to graciously let you entertain us today." Hmmm, graciously, a word with more than two syllables. Those fancy teachers had managed to drill something into that impermeable skull. "We'll give you a three second head start. One-" Harry jumped to his feet, ignoring the sting of his scraped knees, turned and started running. "Two-" he glanced behind him, the gang had already given chase, so much for a head start.
There was not even a pretext of "three" as Dudley started his lumbering gait soon after his fellows had. Guess those fancy teachers only go so far huh? I have my doubts on whether he can actually count to three or not.
Your attempt at wit is unamusing.
Yeah, well, you've got to take what you have. Harry ran past the end of their street and turned down the next casting a swift peek behind him. Of the six, one had already dropped out. The rest would follow if he could just out last the fast skinny rat-like one named Piers. He poured on more speed, rounding a corner.
My advice was to kill him.
Your…advice…is messed up…in more ways…than one! It was getting harder to concentrate as the burning in his lungs increased as Harry flat out sprinted, trying to gain enough distance to discourage further chase.
Another glance said that Piers was wheezing and slowing down. I'm going to make it! He slipped between two identical houses and rolled underneath a hedge, breathing slowly and quietly. He froze at the sound of sneakers slapping the pavement as the others ran past. He counted silently, 1, 2…3, 4….5…where's Dudley? A slower beat was heard approaching and passing his hiding place without further incident. Harry let out a quiet breath of relief and leaned back against the bush.
Aunt Petunia's going to get mad at me for crushing her flowers… crossed his mind followed by, she's going to get madder when I'm not there to cook them dinner.
Who cares?
I care. You don't have to live with them.
I told you it would be better for the both of us if you would kill them.
How exactly does that benefit you?
I won't have to listen to your whining anymore.
I don't whine! came the indignant reply.
Do so. It's rather exhausting to listen to.
Well, I'm so sorry to bother His Highness with my pitiful troubles. You feel free to ignore me, and converse with everyone else somehow magically connected to your mind. I promise I'll return the favor.
Insolent brat!
Yep, that's me. The insolent brat that just happens to be the only person you can talk to.
There was silence while Tom, no doubt, composed himself not to start a mental screaming match. Time for practice! he said, sounding much more like himself.
No way! I'm tired, physically exhausted. You remember what it was like to be physical Tom? He jibbed, hoping to derail the conversation before they got to the conclusion he knew was coming.
I am ignoring that last statement. Just because your body may be tired, that is no excuse to allow your mind to be. When that something comes to collect you, you must be able to guard you mind in all circumstances.
Why? Tom had long ago explained the concept of Occlumency and Legilimency, though he neglected saying why he felt the urge to make Harry practice keeping him out of his mind again and again. Harry had actually gotten quite good, to the point where he could shut Tom out if he really wanted to. All Tom had said the first time he'd accomplished this was a dry, passable, now do it again.
Never you mind, now guard!
Harry felt the attack coming and immediately threw up what he imagined as plates of steel. Smooth and unbreakable, forming a dome around his mind. When Tom had first started teaching, he didn't exactly take care to be gentle when he took down Harry's shields. Perhaps brutally ripping it aside with a certain amount of childish glee at the sheer destruction would be a better choice of words.
Waiting for the subtle probes for weakness he shuddered at the rather unpleasant feeling of smoky tendrils feeling their way all around his dome, inspecting it for any gaps or softness. Finding none, they retreated briefly in preparation for a brute force attack. Harry winced, as suddenly a force was slammed against the barrier, he and Tom agreed that this method lacked a certain amount of elegance, though Tom said it would be the most probable to occur if anyone every attempted to invade his mind. After the first time Harry had managed to prevent Tom sweeping aside his defenses like so much pitiful garbage, he had begun learning how to trap the opponent in his mind. Tom hadn't really explained how this worked, only saying that he would have to see for himself when it happened.
Harry pictured the steel, thinning, lifting, forming spikes that moved at will, harder, denser. When he felt Tom rushing forward for another attack, the spikes shot forward, bending to form a cage to contain the force. When Tom started to slip through the bars, he flattened the spikes connecting them to one another, forming a smooth seamless cube. He pulled the cube toward him and let it slide through the dome easily. Once done, he let the spikes retract back into the dome making in impermeable once more.
So, how was that?
You passed…..with the lowest possible mark.
You can't just give me a compliment can you? I, for one, thought that bit with the cube was brilliant.
No, no I can't. It would offend me on several basic levels. Don't you think it is time to be returning to that hovel?
Harry glanced up at the sky, it had deepened to a dark purple laced with orange from the blinding blue while they had waged mental war. Crap! I'm going to get such an earful.
I thought we had already established this.
Harry slipped underneath the hedge and edged out of the shadow of the houses. Oh, shut up, would you?
Be more respectful when speaking to me brat.
Yeah, yeah sure. Harry started walking down the sidewalk, toward the Dursleys home, dragging his feet a little because he was by no means eager to be shut up in his cupboard again without food or water. Having no illusions on what awaited him, he sighed. He would have at least liked to drink something before he'd been ushered out of the house with very specific weeding orders.
You should not bother to worry. It will be here soon, tomorrow at the latest.
WHAT will be here soon?
You'll see.
You have got to be the most infuriating, stubborn,-
You have arrived at the hovel.
Harry looked up, so he had. Not looking forward to this, he climbed the steps and opened the door with a slight creak. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could get into the cupboard before the yelling started.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"
Guess not.
"What do you think you're doing? Dudley tells me you've ruined my beautiful garden, and ran away when he tried to be nice and invited you to play with his friends. I can't believe you have the nerve to waltz back in here looking like that, tracking dirt all over my clean hallway, after shirking your cooking responsibilities, and then try to sneak off to your hole without paying any respect to us! Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Harry blinked up at her when she stopped for air. No…and I do believe that I cleaned the hallway.
She seemed to realize what she'd said, and that she'd be getting no response. This appeared to make her angrier, and with a certain amount of interest Harry watched her horsey face go a darker red.
"Go to your cupboard! No dinner!" she snapped, and then turned on her heel to walk away. "And we'll want French toast for breakfast in the morning." she finished over her shoulder with a sneer.
Harry climbed into his cupboard and shut the door behind him. He lay down and curled into his blanket.
Well, that could have been worse.
Time Skip to Next Morning
Dudley had recently been accepted into Vernon's old private school, Smeltings, and the day before his uniform had arrived in the mail. That morning, as Harry set about concocting the best French toast to ever grace the Earth, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobby sticks, used for hitting each other while the teacher's weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.
As Uncle Vernon gruffly said that it was the proudest moment of his life and Aunt Petunia burst into tears saying she couldn't believe how handsome and grown-up her baby looked, Harry concentrated profusely on not doubling up in silent laughter as he sensed it would not be good for his bodily health.
Just as the French toast finished cooking, Vernon and Dudley came in the kitchen and sat heavily at the wooden table. After the last table had broken one unfortunate day, they had purchased a new one, a very expensive antique that was now ruined for further sale after Dudley was through with it. Vernon opened his newspaper as per usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he now carried everywhere, on the table. Harry had his own private suspicions that the poor stick had already had to endure a night clutched in Dudley's sweaty fist as he had thrown a fit when his mother had tried to make him put it away for the night.
Then came the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Vernon from behind his paper.
"Make Harry get it."
"Get the mail, Harry."
Harry, who had just sat down to his sad looking portion of toast, glanced up, and raised an eyebrow. Are you kidding me?
"Poke him with your Smelting stick Dudley." was issued from the sports section of the paper.
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Island of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and – a letter for him.
Harry picked it up and stared at it. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends (except for Tom, and he wasn't sure Tom counted in this case because what use would he have for letters?) no relatives – he didn't belong to a library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, addressed to him so plainly there could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
As he stared at the letter in shock, Tom choose this as an excellent moment to chime in with, I told you so. Get ready, things are about to change.
A/N: Mwahahahahaha! Cliffhangers are fun for nobody but me! Review..? Please? I tried really hard on this chapter and all my wonderful Reviewers are what kept me going to make it the best it could be. Review and you get a virtual cookie! A nice, chewy, chocolate chip cookie! You know you want that cookie! Get that cookie by clicking the button, go on, you know you want to~! XD