A/n: wow, got 4 reviews at once for the last chapter!
Well, okay, don't laugh. It may not be much compared to other fanfictions, but I like them and I'm proud of them.
Thank you guys :D
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Chapter 9: A New Character
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He was dreading the moment. He was full-blown terrified. His toes were curling up in his shoes, and tentacles of an unknown nature wriggled up into his belly, squeezing all the contents. His throat was dry and aching and his fingers were sticky with sweat as he tried to get his hair to look like he'd been awake for more than an hour. He was…
Well, enough of this. He had to get inside sooner or later. Later would get him in more trouble, probably. But he still would've preferred later.
On the other hand, he hadn't wanted to impose on Mrs. Malfoy any longer than he'd already had. She'd served him a quick lunch when he woke up from his morning nap and he'd been conflicted between wanting to eat as much as he could before returning to the Dursleys, and not wanting to seem like he was taking advantage, or like he was poor and starving.
Despite having been able to have a normal conversation with Draco (kind of), talking stiffly and awkwardly about their assignments and Miss Snape all night, and despite having called a momentary truce (kind of), the prodigal Malfoy son had looked giddy at the idea of Harry finally leaving. The grandmother too, hadn't seemed to mind. And Mrs. Malfoy, well…Harry thought she'd looked preoccupied with something, worried, anxious. It reminded him of the tense silences he'd witnessed between his parents after which they'd disappeared into the kitchen and broken out in furious whispers.
Mrs. Malfoy had been plunged too deep in her own thoughts to notice the boy's distress as she drove him back to his home, and she had not insisted to walk him to the door. Instead, she'd given him a warm but absent smile, assured him he could come by any time he wished, and driven off, back to her own family and problems.
Everyone had problems. Harry was only starting to notice it now, that every family seemed to have some kind of dysfunction. It had not only been his own.
The raven caught himself wondering idly if Draco's father had also died, instead of opening the front door. He sighed, momentarily blowing his long bangs out of the way. He could not stay there forever. He had to face the Dursleys sometime.
A last deep breath, 1…2…3… And there he went. He turned the knob, pushed the door open, closed it and walked to the kitchen, all in one go. The raven felt proud of himself. But the pride and courage sunk into his shoes once he looked into his family's faces again. Somehow they looked…uglier than the last time he'd seen them.
Aunt Petunia was scrubbing away at a mound of dishes and glasses, all from the dinner party without a doubt. Uncle Vernon was looking smugger than a lion, king of his lionesses, as he looked over official-looking papers. And Dudley…well…Dudley seldom changed. He seemed torn between his love for his lunch and his passion for boxing video games. He was struggling to try and keep a constant stream of food coming into his mouth (and not his nose), and at the same time keeping his character alive on his PSP. His face was contorted in concentration and regular grunting noises escaped his full mouth.
Harry frowned. It was such a stark contrast with the polite and graceful way the Malfoys had eaten. He felt as much out of place here as he'd felt there. He didn't fit in with either of the extremes.
In fact, they seemed just as oblivious of his presence here as they'd been when he'd left the Malfoy house. It was only when Dudley looked up long enough for Vernon and Petunia to miss his grunting that they turned to look at the doorway.
"Uh…hi." Harry tried. He was still in 'polite mode'. But he thought it wouldn't take long before he switched back to 'silent mode'.
"Well!" Vernon said loudly. Harry cringed. Here it comes. He prepared himself. "What are you waiting for? Go help your aunt!" He ordered.
Harry hurried to her side and started drying the glasses with extreme care. He didn't dare think what would happen to him if he so much as cracked one of the fragile-looking things. Vernon went back to his papers, chuckling self-contentedly in a chorus with Dudley's renewed grunting.
So…that was it? Harry thought. They hadn't even noticed he was gone all night and all morning? Strangely, the raven felt disappointed. Yes, it was a stroke of luck. He wouldn't get punished or berated. But…how could they not even have noticed!
The raven understood then, at noon in Petunia's kitchen, with fragile and beautifully transparent glass in his hands, that he'd still harboured hope somewhere deeply hidden. Hope that he would one day find a way to please his Uncle and Aunt, and that they would accept him and care for him; tell him they were proud and urge him to try harder, cheering on him when he did. It didn't matter that he hated them. He'd still craved that kind of feeling. He'd missed it more than he'd thought.
No more! He thought furiously, choking back what felt very much like tears. His hate for his family doubled, along with his hurt. But from now on, he would never expect anything from them again, he told himself.
He was suddenly so enraged that he broke off the fragile edge of one of the glasses. He was almost happy when the hit came. The physical pain distracted him from the other emotions flooding through him and confusing him. He cried out and wished he could yell the vilest of curses at the top of his lungs.
That night, the raven broke his own rule. He felt like he would cry anyway, so he might as well get his money's worth.
His hands trembled as he carefully pried open his floorboard in the silent darkness, not wanting to alarm any of the other inhabitants. Somehow, his shoulder had started aching again. Maybe it had something to do with the hit he took from his uncle for breaking the expensive and irreplaceable glass.
He left the curtains open to look at the pictures of him and his parents Rebecca had brought an eternity ago (he couldn't even recall her face in any detail), and fell asleep with his glasses on.
The next morning, he found them on the ground, slightly worse for wear, and sticky with salty tears. His eyes felt swollen, and he was still tired. The last thing he wanted was to get out of bed.
The little bird stayed under the covers, feathers ruffled and wings drooping. But then he noticed, outside his window…
Snow! He exclaimed to himself internally and jumped out in a smooth movement to push his nose up against his window. The front yard, driveway and street were covered in a layer that looked softer than anything he'd ever seen. So much he felt a yearning to lie down in it. But he remembered that his mother had always told him not to do so. The reason she'd given him was that he would turn into a snowy owl.
The ink-black raven, turning into a snowy owl? How could that ever happen?
Lily had seemed worried though. The raven had done as she'd asked. And now that she…
Mom…
Harry couldn't breathe suddenly. His palms came loose from the freezing window and clutched at his chest. He couldn't breathe!
Hate, fury, pain, grief, fear, loneliness… So many things that the little one didn't know, didn't understand, and couldn't cope with. Who would teach him? Who even knew?
After a few minutes of struggling, the dark-haired boy found his breath again and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. Condensation formed where his mouth was, and relief washed over him that his lungs seemed to be working again. The momentary malfunction had scared him.
But then, something outside caught his eye. In a patch of snow between the flower beds, something was moving. It was hard for Harry to see, but it looked to be a little darker than the blanket surrounding it. It intrigued him, and his mind desperately grasped this opportunity for distraction.
Harry rushed to his closet to attempt to put some clothes on over his pyjamas. But those were already tight when he wore nothing under them. It was impossible for him to close the buttons of his trousers with his pyjama bottoms underneath.
Exasperated, he quickly took everything off, including his sleeping outfit and put on his day clothes again, and his coat. Though he doubted it would do much for him against freezing temperatures.
It was hard for him to contain his enthusiasm when he slipped down the stairs. It was still early, and though he could hear aunt Petunia in the bathroom, the others were still sleeping. He didn't want them to know what he was up to.
Harry didn't bother to tie his shoelaces. His shoes were too cramped to fall off anyway (he had blisters on both his little toes). He gently opened the door and slipped to the patch where he'd spotted the anomaly.
The raven's eyes widened in amazement. There, between the desolate bushes, was a little, 'plushy', greyish creature, wrestling to get loose from the blanket of frozen water-crystals around it. It didn't look like it was making much progress though.
Harry wondered what it was. He was certain his father or mother would have been able to tell him. But there was no one to ask here.
It's ugly. He thought. Truly, it was. It was a very light shade of grey (no wonder Harry had had trouble to see it among the snow and from a distance), had a pointy black beak, and some rosy skin was visible under the white/grey plush. It was so small it could fit in his hands. Would he dare?
What would his parents have said? He wondered. His father often told him not to interfere with the workings of nature, that the strong defeated the weak. But his mother was more prone to helping a creature in need.
The tiny, ugly baby bird let out a sound between a sharp cry and a chirp, and the raven decided he couldn't leave it there, helplessly moving its even tinier limbs. He bent down and scooped up the bird in both hands. Its eyes were closed.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry had wrapped it in a blanket from the hallway closet he wasn't supposed to touch, had stolen a tin of corn from the basement (the only thing that looked like it would fit in the animal's beak) and had cradled it close to him under his covers. He didn't know much about animals, but enough to know that baby things needed to be warm and fed easy food, like chewed things, or partly digested worms and such. That was what he remembered. It still sounded disgusting though, and he didn't know how he would go about doing that. He hadn't thought so far ahead. For now, he just kept it close to him and warm, and he didn't come out of his room all day.
But when evening came, his stomach was grumbling furiously. He'd eaten some of the corn, but he was supposed to leave it for the…birdy-thing. So he had to go downstairs for dinner. And Aunt Petunia would come and get him personally to help her cook and clean afterwards if he didn't show up. There was a chance she would see the animal. She would have a stroke at the idea of an animal in her house, and uncle Vernon would send Harry to the hospital on a gurney alongside her.
But the worst was that they would certainly kill the poor thing, or throw it out. Harry wouldn't forgive himself if that happened. It couldn't defend itself; it couldn't even open its eyes. He had to take care of it!
He stood up carefully. The bird had slept all day, lying so still Harry had thought for a moment it had died, but had been reassured when he'd felt its heartbeat and warmth. He didn't want to wake it up now. It would make noise once it felt it was hungry, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would hear.
He laid the ball of blankets under the lukewarm radiator, it was better than nothing, and then went downstairs to eat and do his chores. The Dursleys ignored him completely, still talking about their successful Christmas dinner with uncle Vernon's boss. Harry was happy enough with that. He'd thought they would keep him from dinner since he'd broken the glass. But staying in his room all day turned out to be a smart move. Not having to see him for 24 hours seemed to put them in a better mood.
While cleaning the table Harry hesitated for a moment, thinking he could smuggle some leftovers upstairs. But he decided against it. During class at school, when they'd been learning about the local flora and fauna, Hermione had whispered to him and Ron that it was dangerous to feed animals when one did not know what its diet consisted of. And Harry had no clue what the creature would eat. He didn't even know what it was. Luckily, he hadn't given it the corn yet, it had not woken long enough for him to attempt to feed it. He wasn't even sure how he was going to make it swallow the food.
When night had once more fallen, and silence along with it, the creature in the bundle of blankets at Harry's side began to stir and to make weak croaking noises.
"Shhhh," the raven whispered, "please…little…thing," he struggled for something to address it with, "if you make too much noise, they'll know you're here and throw you out."
And that was the last thing the raven wanted. At a time when his spirits had reached a new low, a goal had appeared in front of him. A new mission: to keep this creature alive, protect it with his life. And so, after remembering Hermione's words, he hadn't dared to give it the corn to eat. He needed to find an answer soon, for it looked weak, and it might die quickly.
It made another sound, something closer to crooning, but very high-pitched. Harry used his little finger to stroke the bird's head. It opened its beak in response.
"Not yet." Harry whispered. "What if you die because I gave you the wrong food? I will go to the library first thing tomorrow. The librarian is very nice, you know. I'm sure she'll know how I can find out what you eat."
For the first time since he'd set a foot through the Dursley's door, Harry hadn't felt lonely a single second of the day. The animal, even though tiny and asleep, radiated a soothing presence. It eased the little raven's pain and grief. A baby, a new life, hope…for a new companion maybe?
So...can anyone guess who the new character is? :p
It's not so hard I think ^^
