HARRY POTTER AND THE UNFORGIVEN
A Sixth Year Harry Potter Fanfiction
BY
Jayiin Mistaya
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
...never tickle a sleeping dragon
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Those rights are held, exclusively, by JK Rowling, and any other entities, corporations, subsidiaries, or groups not named here possessing legal rights to the aforementioned books and/or trademark.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just remember – the 'Letters' Interludes take place at points during the previous three chapters, and aren't necessarily chronologically in place with the chapters they're near.
Thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't reviewed, and especially to those people who have me on author alert or favorites.
More information on Harry Potter and the Unforgiven can be found at my website, which is linked in my Author Profile.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:Thanks to Elusive Evan for making me continue to post this.
LETTERS II
Hedwig flew down in a lazy arc towards 4 Privet Drive, gracefully shedding momentum as she drifted around the house, searching for an open window she wasn't sure would be there.
An odd trilling sound whistled through the air, and Hedwig curled her wings to follow it. Gently setting down on the roof, she gave a reproachful look to the diminutive figure sitting next to her.
The figure took the letter from Hedwig and awkwardly patted the owl's side. Hooting mournfully, Hedwig settled in to wait.
- 0 -
Harry found a letter on his pillow. There was a note on it, in unfamiliar and rather messy handwriting.
Owls cannot enter house, so put letters to send on pillow. Letters sent to you will appear same place.
There might have been a time when Harry wouldn't have trusted that kind of a note, but after Dumbledore had explained the nature and level of the protections around 4 Privet Drive, he was inclined to think the note was from a member of the Order who was watching him. The grammar was odd, but he wasn't great shakes as a writer either, and he was used to Hermione's perfect writing.
Which means Dumbledore knows what's happening to me. And had done nothing. He hadn't even responded to Harry's letter. He smiled bitterly as he picked up Ginny's letter.
Harry,
Well, you certainly know how to stump a girl. Now I'm not sure what to say to you except 'thank you for the apology' and not to be so hard on yourself.
We never really have gotten to know each other, have we? I mean, I am your best mate's kid sister, but I'm also a person in my own right. Sometimes it's really hard being Ron's kid sister, but then I think – it's better to someone's kid sister than the girl who went crazy reading a diary and nearly killed people.
Growing up, I was always taught that if people judged you by your actions and not your words, then they were judging you rightly. But I don't want to be judged for my actions because my actions don't really mean anything, because they weren't my own! And those actions mean that no one pays attention to what I say, only what I've done.
I think that'll probably make sense to you, because people judge you by something you did as a baby. Even me. But it's hard not to; to have grown up learning about the Boy Who Lived and his defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when adult wizards of incredible power had fallen to him one by one...
I can't imagine the terror and the confusion people lived in. Not sure who was or who wasn't a Death Eater...Tom and his minions attacking Muggles and Muggle-borns and those few wizards willing to stand with them...it must have been horrible.
And you know what? I'm scared it will start again, because people didn't listen to what you had to say. Even though your actions and your words matched, no one wanted to listen. I don't know if it was willful denial or a last vestige of hope that Tom was gone for good or what. Now I know Tom has the upper hand and we're playing his game with his rules.
Merlin! Now I'm getting morbid and you're probably sitting there blaming yourself for something that's not your fault. So – stop it!
You may be stuck there at the Dursley's but try to enjoy what you can of the summer. We'll get you out of there before too long.
If I didn't make you all upset with anything I said, write me back!
Ginny W
P.S. Your Gringotts key? Hmm...time to go shopping! Yes, Harry, I'll be glad to take care of Hedwig for you!
And just so you know, I don't believe you. I don't think things are fine, otherwise you wouldn't have sent Hedwig. So you'd better take care of yourself, Harry Potter!
Her return letter wasn't what he expected from her. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't that. She'd responded to everything he'd said in his letter and hadn't made him feel bad about forgetting what she'd gone through or even for excluding her for the past four years.
Not only that, she made him think.
What a person did and why they did it instead of who that person appeared to be. He had to wonder – how did his actions seem to others? Did he really seem mad and imbalanced or evil? Lots of people saw him talking to a snake or collapsing or even defying Umbridge. Not many people saw him fighting Death Eaters or dueling Voldemort or any of the other things he'd done.
They'd seen him in a rage, they'd seen him on the Quidditch pitch, they'd seen him fighting with Malfoy and they'd seen him in the Triwizard Tournament. What did people really think of him when they didn't see or know him? They only knew what other people told them.
His legend and his fame and his infamy. Somehow, he wasn't surprised Ginny could make him think like this when not even Hermione could. She'd been there; she'd faced Voldemort, she'd had him in her mind. She'd even tried to kill people under his influence.
He re-read the letter several times before he noticed the handwriting. It was very, very familiar...and so was the purple ink the letter was written in.
He dug around in his trunk for a moment, and pulled out the note he had found on his bed right before leaving Hogwarts, the one he'd found with the glove.
Sure enough, the handwriting and the ink matched. His fist clenched, and the leather glove tightened against his skin.
Ginny had given him the glove.
He wasn't sure what he felt about that. Or what he should feel.
End Chapter
Revised 12-25-07
