A/n: I just had the time for this quickie. Enjoy ^^


Chapter 17.

A Small Revelation

The morning was icy, misty and dark, as every other January morning the raven had seen in his life. But this one seemed more threatening, the hazy yellow light from the street lamps more oppressing, as he walked to school at a healthy pace to keep his blood circulating.

If he'd still had that thin jacket in which he did no longer fit, he would've frozen to the spot, but he had finally gotten an overlarge (as all of Dudley's clothes) proper winter coat. It had only been used one winter, for Dudley had managed to grow two sizes by the next season, and it looked passably new, though not in fashion and of course, too large for the small child. But at least he could hide his hands in his sleeves and pull in his head, kind of like a turtle.

The big coat made him feel like he had a carapace, a safer place to hide from the gloomy atmosphere which reminded him more and more of a scene from his favourite book, where the wise magician Dumbledore had visited a black lake in a cave, utterly lightless and filled with living corpses. It had frozen his blood in place when he'd first read that passage.

Being in the same situation (in his imagination it was much the same), it was not so entertaining anymore. And the only thought that kept him going on bravely, was the remembrance of his night with Malfoy, which had most surprisingly turned out to be wonderful and fascinating, and his visit to Hedwig, who was growing by the day under Hagrid's expert care. She was absolutely ugly, Harry had to admit. Greyish plumage was shooting from under the white fluff, and her skin was still visible in places. But having seen pictures of snowy owls, Harry was waiting with anticipation for the day that she would be able to spread her majestic white wings and fly off into nature, into the sky, into the freedom he could not enjoy.

Harry's thoughts were turned to Hedwig all the time he walked to school, until the safety of the school gates and especially the arrival of his two friends made it no longer necessary for him to be brave. The reunion with the whole Weasley family was a hearty one. Both he and Hermione were embraced by Mrs. Weasley, and shook hands with Mr. Weasley who had driven everyone for the first school day of the New Year. The father of the family of course insisted on making chocolate coins appear magically from all kinds of places, and Harry was more than grateful for the food. The lack of a breakfast worthy of the name had made him more susceptible to cold and fatigue. Chocolate always made his insides feel warmer. Fred and George claimed it was an acknowledged medicine.

The day was mostly spent on filling each other in on their activities during the previous holidays. The Wealeys had visited some relatives, which all the younger members of the family had hated. Hermione and Harry told Ron about their few library sessions and the discovery of Hedwig. Ron was not sorry to have missed extra study time, but he did express regret at not having seen Hedwig, after which followed an immediate promise on Hermione and Harry's part to take him with them on their next visit to Hagrid.

It was already afternoon when Harry finally dared to venture on his other activity of the Christmas Holiday, his new 'acquaintance' with Draco Malfoy. Both his friends were more than surprised at his finding anything likeable in the blond upperclassman. So Harry did not give more of an explanation than his finding Mrs. Malfoy a very nice Lady, and having enjoyed staying at the manor house.

As for seeing Draco himself, there were not that many opportunities. It turned out that if meetings weren't looked for, their paths rarely crossed over the course of the day, and when they did, the atmosphere between everyone was indifferent and neutral. When not attacked, Hermione and Ron could scarcely find a reason to get in trouble, and all members of Draco's group of friends seemed to follow his lead and look the other way. It was as close as one could get to peace, a sort of unstated treaty.

It was in this way that a few quiet weeks were passed, during which the only things troubling Harry's mind were the continuing tension at home between his uncle and aunt, and his straining to keep up with Miss Snape's classes. His visits to Hagrid were frequent, and his friendship with the friendly giant grew. Hagrid showed him how he chopped up rats and bound the flesh to pieces of string. Harry was then allowed to try and play with Hedwig himself, making her hop after the bait, digging her growing claws into it, learning the tricks of hunting. It was important for her to develop the skills that otherwise a parent would have encouraged her to try out.

It often reminded Harry of his own situation, of how he had had to learn many things in a very short time by himself. He had learned to cook (though he still burnt the bacon constantly), to clean, to wash and iron his clothes, to make his bed, to steal food, to ask people in the street to find his own way... In other words, he'd had to learn to fend for himself in a few weeks time. He thought he'd done a rather good job. A few burns from the ironing, a few ruined clothes, many punishments for broken dishes and burnt food… That wasn't so bad. He was still alive, wasn't he? He was doing pretty well.

The raven tried to encourage himself with such thoughts. Seeing Hedwig always did him good. Leaving her though, was less pleasant. But he trudged on through the muddy snow, over the icy roads, or over the puddles. Through hail and rain, he fought his way.


February was well on its way when Harry came home after an expedition to Hagrid, finding only his uncle in front of the television, intently watching a football match (European football to be clear). It occurred to Harry that he better stay out of the way and immediately disappear off to his room, but something made him feel brave enough to risk coming in the line of sight of his uncle.

"Ah, you're here, you ruddy thing." Vernon Dursley mumbled through his moustache, only taking his eyes off the screen for a second.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked tentatively, tensing his muscles, ready to jump away at any sign of danger.

"Your aunt has gone off to that witch of a friend of hers with Dudley. Women tend to flock together whenever anything doesn't go the way they wish."

"What does she wish?"

Uncle Vernon tore his eyes away from the screen again. The raven swallowed loudly, for his uncle did not look happy. Something had happened in his absence. The husband had finally confronted his wife about his suspicions?

"That does not concern you." The moustached walrus threatened, then turned back to the screen and mumbled to himself discontentedly. "She takes Dudley and leaves me with this thing."

"What about food?" Harry asked. His secret storage of stolen food was depleted at the moment. He had been counting on some dinner.

"Take what you want. Stop bothering me." The raven did not need to be told twice. "And bring me a beer!" His uncle added loudly as the raven entered the kitchen.

Harry did as he was asked. It was a small price to pay for the liberty of taking however much food as he wished. He decided on a leftover of roast beef and baked potatoes. It was too late to heat anything up, so he simply took it with him and ate it cold in his bedroom, reading a compilation of poems by John Keats. It was another assignment from Snape. In fact he did not really like poetry. It sounded nice, a little like music, but he did not feel like he was really taken into the story so much as when he read a novel, a story of prose.

The book he kept open with a combination of his knees and feet, while his hands were needed to fill his mouth with potato and beef. Once finished he brushed his teeth and plunged under the covers. For once he would be able to keep the light on in his room and read as long as he wanted. Uncle Vernon did not seem in a mood to notice much of what Harry was doing.


The next morning, Harry woke up with his lights still on, his glasses askew and his nose pressed against the old paper of the book. He felt disoriented. But not only because the light was on when it shouldn't be. It was because of that same feeling again, the one he'd had before. It had happened regularly in the past weeks that he woke up feeling scared and slightly out of breath, but he never knew why. The more he tried to remember what he'd dreamt, the more it eluded him.

The raven put the book of poems away and cleaned his glasses before changing into a new set of Dudley's clothes. He wondered where the previous owner of those was at the moment. Where had aunt Petunia fled to? He'd never been allowed to meet any friends or neighbours. He had no idea where they could be. And frankly, he didn't care enough to think about it longer than the time it took to get changed.

The problem with the absence of half of the house's inhabitants was that he was now left alone with uncle Vernon, who was very known not to have any patience with the young boy. He tiptoed down to the kitchen, but found no one there. Was he still asleep then?

The raven tried in the living room. And there he was. A huge form, slumped over on the couch in front of the television, snoring slightly, moustache bristling. Harry came closer with small steps.

It was a work day, uncle Vernon was supposed to be getting ready, and Harry was supposed to be helping aunt Petunia making breakfast. Maybe Vernon Dursley wanted Harry to wake him up?

No. The raven thought. Either way, he'll be angry with me. If I wake him he'll hit me, and if I don't wake him, he'll hit me when I come home for not doing so. But there was a chance of Petunia and Dudley being home again by then, and Vernon being distracted. Harry decided the second choice was the best and good-humouredly skipped off to the kitchen, for he could take anything he wanted for breakfast.

He filled a bowl with two different cereals, and then ate a second bowl of the one he liked best. Then he proceeded to the cabinet where all of Dudley's biscuits and chocolate lay, and helped himself to one of each. He rejoiced at the idea of being able to share something with his friends this time, instead of always being on the receiving end.


"Wow! What's the occasion?" Ron wondered when Harry handed him his prize of chocolate and the most expensive brands of biscuits.

"Oh…just…since I always forget to get my own, and you always give me yours, this time I thought of you." Harry offered as an explanation. It was good enough for Ron, who shrugged and bit half off the bar of chocolate.

"Wooooooow, thishishdelishioush!"

"You're spitting chocolate all over us." Hermione remarked, shutting her book and cradling it to her chest to protect it from the indelible stains.

"There is a time for chocolate, Hermione, and there's a time for studying." He told her patronizingly. "You have disrespected the sanctivity of lunch, therefore you have forfeited the right to complain about chocolate stains."

Ron rewarded himself for his complicated speech with the second half of the chocolate bar.

"Sancitity." Hermione corrected.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sactity, Ron!" She sighed in exasperation. "Not sanctivity."

It was more attention than could be expected of Weasley at lunch hour, with chocoloate in his mouth at that, and he simply shrugged it off and proceeded with throwing gravel at the tree behind them on the courtyard, trying to dislodge a crow.

Hermione was inclined to give him some credit for trying. "Well, since we're sharing today, you want some of my biscuits?" She offered them her opened lunch box.

Ron made a face as if they were vegetables. "Your biscuits taste like tree bark!" He accused. He'd been tricked into trying one before, and had spit it out into the shrubs surrounding the courtyard.

"It's much healthier. Besides it doesn't damage your teeth so much. We never eat anything else at home. I'm quite fond of them." She defended.

"I'm fine, thanks." He rolled his eyes at her and opened a bag of crisps.

Harry was still hungry though. He'd only taken the biscuits and chocolate. There had been no bread to prepare sandwiches. "I'll take one." He said. The last time he'd tried, it had tasted quite like bread, just a little denser, with raisins and nuts.

"See, normal people eat them." Hermione sneered at Ron.

"Did I hear someone say normal?"

The three friends turned around at once. Gathered around the tree trunk where the crow had been, stood the upperclassmen that formed the little group around Malfoy. The shrill voice that had spoken belonged to Pansy Parkinson, the only girl among them. She held quite a dislike for Hermione for some reason no one understood, not even Hermione herself.

But that did not mean she let herself be beat down. With Ron and Harry standing next to her, she was less than intimidated.

"It's all right, Pansy. I hardly expect you to grasp such a difficult concept."

Pansy's laugh was forced and short. She stepped forward in front of the others. Malfoy wasn't among them, and it looked like she'd taken the lead.

"I think it's you who doesn't understand, Granger. You call yourself and those two normal? Don't we all know that the Weasleys live with nine in a tree house and have to share clothes, and that you spend your life in a library because only books can tolerate having you around," she smiled broadly when she turned her eyes on Harry, as if particularly anticipating her attack on him, "and that his parents were the worst criminals in the country, and they were butchered as they deserved."

The tense silence between the flash of lightning and the rumbling thunder that follows. That silence, but stretched into infinity; knowing the thunder must come, but waiting eternally.

Ron had immediately turned to Harry with half a smile on his face, expecting to laugh at the ridiculous lie. Hermione had kept her eyes fixed on Parkinson. Whatever was the truth or not, her first priority, as she had learned from previous experiences in bullying, was not to show that she had been affected.

Though Harry had not had the same life-lessons, he adopted much the same method, but not because he consciously decided it, simply because he was frozen in place.

This had to be the dream he'd had every time and not remembered. This strange experience where someone who was supposed to be completely unaware of his situation had suddenly thrown it out into the world, this had to be why he'd felt unsettled every time he woke up.

Following that theory, he would have to wake up soon…now…no?

Nothing. He was wide awake, his wide open eyes were proof of that. This was truly happening.

Butchered as they deserved, butchered as they deserved, butchered as they deserved… It repeated in the raven's head like badly composed electronic music. He felt the need to scream, cry, roar in rage and strangle Parkinson at the same time. But none of it showed, for all those scenarios were trapped within him. He wasn't able to move a muscle.

Having struck a satisfying blow, the winners began to talk among each other and move away, sneering and jeering. They were joined by Malfoy, who had come from the direction of the school building. Harry watched helplessly as Malfoy walked with his friends and they told him what had just happened.

It occurred then to the raven that the only person in this whole school who knew he did not live with his parents, was Malfoy. The Dursleys had told everything when Mrs. Malfoy and her son had come and drunk tea together. Draco had to have been the one who told Pansy and the rest.

This made Harry unbelievably angry, even more than he'd been at Pansy Parkinson, because he could expect it from her, but since he and Draco had spent such a good night together, he had trusted that Draco would not tell, even if he'd never actually asked not to do so. Harry felt betrayed.

He glared at the blonde from across the playground, and saw how Malfoy understood, then immediately turned to look at him. Nothing could be said between them, but it seemed as if Draco was confused, alarmed, and also, to Harry anyway, it seemed like there was an apology somewhere to be seen.


I think I won't be able to post again before two weeks, but who knows. If I deide to throw my books out the window, or burn them, the first thing I'll do is write the next chapter :D