AN: One of my biggest pet peeves is when a writer has two characters decide to get together and instantly jump to protestations of True Love and undying commitment. If any real person acted that way they'd be labeled a psycho stalker and rightfully shunned, so why would you want your characters to do that? This is actually why I poke fun at the 'Ginny is a fan girl' cliché by showing how bad she would've been had she actually been one in Canon. ;)
In order to combat this and get an accurate gauge on what Harry & Hermione's fledgling relationship would be like once the initial interest is reciprocated, I started writing out the letters they'd be sending back and forth. This way I could blur the intervening time until I can bring them together at Diagon Alley and their change in dynamic would seem much more natural. I never intended them to make it into the story though — just for them to be reference material to look back on if I needed it. The longer they went on though the more chemistry developed between the two characters and more side bits of information were introduced.
In the end it felt like in order to do the H/Hr relationship justice I'd have to include them, even if a lot of what they say is going to be review. Crawling back-and-forth between these characters' heads had been very draining in the first place though so once the decision to include the letters was made I included them as they were and didn't go back to edit them down to reduce redundancy or input real-time character thoughts and reactions, as was done in Chapter 2. I understand this can be a roadblock for some people but felt that getting to see the characters show a bit more of their inner self — as one can only do in flirtatious writing — would serve as a bit of a counterbalance.
.o0O0o.
Dan Granger was in his comfortable chair enjoying a Sunday morning spent reading quietly with his wife. That hers was the latest medical journal while his was the latest tabloid bothered neither in the slightest. He was just shaking his head in wonder at the outrageous headlines when he heard it, a high-pitched squeal from somewhere up above. The sound of a door being thrown open was quickly followed by a herd of rampaging wildebeests rolling down the stairs and bouncing off the walls as it went.
One particularly wild wildebeest chose to make the most fantastic of entrances by leaping the last several steps and landing in the most undignified fashion by stumbling to a halt, its mane streaming along behind it and young face alight. That this wildebeest was his daughter only puzzled him slightly. He had been encouraging her to let her inner Granger out more often and just be herself but he certainly didn't expect it to be such a smelly thing and certainly hoped it was housebroken.
His daughter saw her mother and instantly went into Protective Puckle Mode, face blank and body rigidly erect. This smaller Puckle model had the added feature of Proud Defiance though, so her head was held high as if daring its predecessor to do its worst.
"Since when do we allow running through the house?" Puckle Prime asked her daughter, glancing up from her reading with one eyebrow raised in a most Vulcan-like way.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Puckle," the little Puckle replied with a false smile in place as if its razor thin edge could cut. She never referred to her mother as her mother any more. A new development, now it was always Dad and Dr. Puckle. "–I didn't know you'd be here," his daughter explained. "I was under the impression you had a surgery to perform," she said formally.
"I had one scheduled," Puckle Prime responded, "but the man died last night from injuries sustained in the collision and continuing as planned seemed a moot point."
He couldn't miss his wife's eyes glance down to what was absentmindedly clasped in Hermione's hand. Into the presence of this strong young bull his little Puckle had mistakenly brought the bright red of a matador's cape in the form a half-eaten Bournville bar.
He cleared his throat slightly and ruffled his tabloid, hoping to get his daughter's attention. She glanced in his direction long enough for him to shoot an urgent warning about the danger she literally carried with her. The Bournville shifted slightly and the color drained from the little Puckle's face as she realized what she'd done. Rather than hide it or flee, his little Puckle did the only thing she could.
"Well, don't let me disturb you," she said as dignified as she could before withdrawing the rest of the half-eaten candy bar, stuffing it in her mouth, and giving it a good chew before walking away.
'The girl is mad,' he thought. 'And I like it. Wizarding world watch out!'
The girl in question only got a few steps before Puckle Prime had to get the last word.
"Make sure to brush your teeth."
The girl seemed to cringe for a moment before she disappeared into the kitchen.
'Hang on,' the man thought, 'that's tacit acceptance. Did Hermione just win against the Puckle?'
The Puckle glanced in his direction and he gave her his widest wan smile, clearly meant to convey an 'I made that' sense of pride as he got up to follow his daughter, leaving his tabloid behind.
As he got to the door-less entry into the kitchen he found the open fridge door blocking his way and he stood still and tried to control his breathing lest it tip the little Puckle off to his presence. He loved this part. The fridge door quickly closed, his sudden appearance scaring the life out of the girl as she jumped in alarm.
"Don't do that!" the shocked little Puckle said as she calmed herself and rinsed the overwhelming taste of chocolate out of her mouth by drinking skim milk she commandeered from mother's supply. "I hate it when you do that."
"But it's so much fun," he said, "and I can never sneak up on your mother."
His daughter rolled her eyes and shook her head at him.
"Well?" he prompted.
"Well what?" she asked in return clearly not in the mood to talk anymore.
"Well, are you going to tell me why you went 'Eeeeee!' and decided to do cartwheels down the stairs?" he asked hoping to inject a bit of humor into the situation. "Or should I just guess?"
His daughter looked interested in finding out how good of a guesser he was.
"I take it you got a response?" he asked in a way to solicit more information.
"Yes," she said neutrally, rinsing out her glass in the sink and setting it out to be properly washed. Though she had turned her head away from him, he couldn't help but notice the tiniest upturn tugging on her lips.
"And the result was favorable?" he continued.
The war to keep from smiling intensified, and was finally lost as she blushed.
"He said he'd like to get to know me too," she informed him.
The father beamed. The daughter huffed and rolled her eyes again.
"You can go ahead and say it," the little Puckle said.
"Say what?" he asked, as if he honestly didn't know where she was going with this and truly hurt she thought he'd mock this momentous development.
"Go ahead and say 'I told you so,'" the girl said. "–And I should have just talked to him myself in the beginning."
"Oh, pish, why would I say 'I told you so,'" he started somberly, "–when saying 'I was right' sounds so much better?" he finished smiling. "But!" he interjected to keep his daughter from leaving in a huff too soon. "Now that you've won against the Puckle, what are you going to do with the rest of your summer?"
The little Puckle looked inwards as it reviewed its databanks on the last encounter with her predecessor.
"Is that what winning looks like?" she asked.
"The dreaded Dr. Puckle saw you cram an entire bar of chocolate in your mouth and all she said was 'Make sure to brush your teeth'?" he reminded her. "That's either you winning or her way of saying you've been fighting against a barn door the entire time."
She seemed to think for a moment.
"I choose to win," she declared.
"That means I can eat candy," the dentist smiled.
Hermione looked up at him as if puzzled this was all her great victory over her mother meant to him.
"Well if you can, I can," he explained. "Go team," he said, giving her the 'thumbs up' gesture.
The girl gave her father a look saying she had severe doubts about whether she was actually related to him or not.
"I told Harry we'd be going to Diagon Alley the Wednesday after we get our list of school supplies," she said changing the subject.
"Ah, on Wednesday," he said sagely. "–The only day of the week this month your mother can't go anywhere."
"Oh, was that Wednesdays?" she asked innocently. "I must have forgotten."
"You know it's Wednesdays. Feigning ignorance was never your strong suit."
"Well, you wouldn't want to make me into a liar, would you?" she asked.
"I don't have to," her father said. "You already are one. Good for you," he said with an oddly cheery tone. "Go on and tell this Harry we'll be there. I take it you're going to be writing to him more often then?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, as if he had asked if the sky was blue.
"Then–," he said as he gestured nebulously with his hands as he did when searching for the right wording that would let him avoid getting smacked by perturbed Puckles. "–You might not want to use that quill that's on your desk then."
"Why? What's wrong with my favorite quill?" Hermione asked concerned.
"Oh, nothing – nothing," he reassured her quickly. "But that's not your favorite quill. That's a – hang on, I've got it here–," He rummaged through his pocket to produce a mangled package. "'Get in touch with your innermost feelings,'" the father read as a look of dread spread across his daughter's face, "'with the Heartseeker Quill–'"
Hermione snatched the folded packaging out of his hands to see for herself.
"You pranked me!" she asked, her voice starting an upward climb. "Where did you get this!"
"I got it at that nice Diagon Alley place," he said, his hands held out to ward off any incoming blows. "I thought it'd be a nice therapeutic tool but never could find a way to trick your mother into using it."
"You realize how badly this could have gone?" she asked, her bushy mane seeming to get bigger with each passing moment.
"I only wanted you to be yourself," he said quickly. "In my defense, you said it went well. The man said if you really wanted to hide something it wouldn't make you write it. It's just supposed to be a simple suggestion. Why, what did you say?"
"I told him we should have twenty kids and get started right away! I guess next summer I'll be having a little bundle to bring home with me," she said acidly.
The color drained from Dan Granger's face as he dropped his hands in defeat.
"Please tell me you're not serious."
"Of course I'm not serious!" Hermione said, smacking him in the chest. "Now you know how pranking feels."
"Ow," he complained, his hand rubbing his chest. "You can't do that to a parent, it's not playing fair."
"Mother taught me to win, not to play fair," she said shockingly assertively. "Maybe you should remember that I'm a little bit Puckle, even if I'm not a Little Puckle."
The wild beast that was his daughter stalked off back to her lair without a backwards glance.
'Not so much a wildebeest,' the man thought to himself after a moment as he made his way back to his chair. 'More like the lions that eat them. Definitely has the Puckle temper. Good thing she sees something positive about being one, and she's calling her mother her mother again. Maybe if we can get a bit of the Granger softer side to show itself we could get a nice blend going.' He shrugged. 'Maybe that Harry will be good for her.'
"Congratulations," his wife said to him as he settled back into his chair.
"Pardon?" he asked.
"She's sullen, irritable, rebellious, she hates her parents, and there's a boy involved, unless I misinterpreted the squee from earlier," the good doctor fired off her check list without ever looking up from her reading, as if listing a patient's symptoms from their chart. "Your daughter's a teenager. You must be so happy."
"Happy? Ha!" the man cried as he kicked back and put his feet up with his recliner. "If one of those were true, I'd be happy. With all of them true – I'm ecstatic," he grinned.
She looked up from her reading.
"So you're not going to be the overprotective father and try to run the boy off before he can defile your daughter? That's very mature of you," she said neutrally, seeming to expose by accident the article she was reading about sexually transmitted diseases.
"I'm not going to let you get to me," he said, wagging his finger at her. "Today was a good day."
The dreaded Dr. Puckle smiled one of her rare half-smiles as her husband concentrated overly hard on reading an article about a mad horse-faced woman in Surrey claiming a horde of goblins and a rock star had stolen her washing machine.
.o0O0o. Arrives Early Sunday Afternoon .o0O0o.
Hey Harry,
As I sit down to write this I find that I have absolutely no idea what to say. I'd ask what on Earth possessed you to read those letters – when I specifically told you not to – except for the fact you might suddenly change your mind. To be honest, I was terrified that you'd read them and dreading the response I'd get because the last thing I wanted was to ruin our friendship. Not that I'm not thrilled at the prospect of getting to know you better – it seems that between You-Know-Who, Hagrid's pets, and just school itself there doesn't seem to have been any time to really get to know your best friends very well at all.
Of course, just from your last letter alone I've got a hundred questions to ask, most of which you probably can't answer. Can I assume the "something odd" that happened was that your mail wasn't being delivered for some reason? Ron thought it might have been his owl's fault – it really is an old bird that's on its last leg – I had been using it when it delivered mail here because of how impersonally Imogen behaves and the fact I knew you'd be somewhere in between my place and his.
I'd ask how anything could intercept an owl but that would probably be close to the top of the "I can't talk about that" list, so instead I'll try to be as vague in my questions about those sensitive topics as possible. From the consequences of 'whatever it is that's going on' getting out before you're ready, I can understand why you'd want to keep things a secret, at least for now. I can only hope to be filled in once you're able to.
I'm very glad about the change in your situation; I was really starting to worry. The silence coming from your end made me think all sorts of horrible things might've been happening there. I can only hope it wasn't the case. If it was though, I've heard those who go through it are prone to not want to talk about it, but should you ever decide you do want to talk, know that I'm always here for you.
Can I assume whatever legal troubles you have at the moment are about the family situation you've always disliked and your desire to make the new situation permanent, and not about what happened before the end of term? If not, should I get legal counsel as well and how would I go about doing that?
You mentioned a grandfather's bailiff. The use of that rather archaic title, and where you are now, would suggest this was for your father's side. I'm glad you've got someone who's able to help you, especially one who may be able to tell you more about your family. It's just not right you know so little about how they died and nothing at all about how they lived. I do hope he's able to shed some light on the subject for you.
It was sweet for the Weasleys to have a party for you, and for Bill to let you have his old room. Ron always mentions his oldest brothers in such legendary terms it's hard to believe they're real. So what was he like? Did he say what Egypt's like? What does he do there? Does he know any interesting Egyptian magic? How does it compare to ours? It sounds like such an amazing opportunity to learn what another culture is like. I do hope you took advantage of it, but I suppose hoping for that is like hoping you've been studying. –smile–
As for me, I actually have been studying. Professor McGonagall was incredibly busy with finding all of this year's new students – I had no idea how much work was involved – but she managed to find the time to send me a few mental exercises and depictions of wand movements she said would make the transfiguration work easier this year. I've actually been able to study up a bit too. A copy of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 showed up on the same day as McGonagall's letter. She didn't say anything in her letter about sending it so I think it may have come from Professor Flitwick.
Before that, I was pretty much stuck at home and not really able to do anything. Now that I'm no longer enrolled at my old school I'm not allowed to check out books there anymore, which is a shame since it's only about two blocks away and had a nice summer check-out program. They wanted to make an exception since I was such a good student but Mrs. Bidwell said she had to say no. And with the public library being so far away–
Let's just say it left me a lot time to revise my notes from last year and read up a bit on History of Magic. It's such a shame the teacher is such a bore when the subject is so interesting. I must say though I've found that besides the basic facts and dates, a great deal of what Bagshot includes seems to be unsubstantiated third– and fourth-hand accounts which makes everything seem far too much like myth than actual history, and she doesn't seem to believe in using any form of citation at all. Something tells me the scholastic heights of the wizarding world is rather thin and lacking the intellectual rigor of their muggle counterpart.
When it comes to my home life, I may just have to wait to tell you about that until things are less emotionally charged. My mother and I have been at odds and I'm rather upset at my father at the moment. Besides that, there's frightfully little to tell, I think. My parents are both dentists, I've lived in the same house and have gone to the same school before entering Hogwarts. My dad's even had the same car since the 70s.
All that said; I'm rather wary about asking about your life lest it bring up some issues you'd be uncomfortable dealing with. I did mean what I said before though, I'm here for you if you want to talk, and if you don't want me to repeat anything, I won't. I want to get to know you because you're my friend, not just because I happen to like you as well, and that means accepting you, warts and all.
Love always, Hermione
.o0O0o. Arrives Very Late Sunday Evening/Early Monday Morning .o0O0o.
Hey Hermione,
I know exactly what you mean about not knowing what to say. Even after I got going I had to figure out what I could say and what I couldn't. I'm glad you understand. I promise to let you know what's going on as soon as I can.
It was actually you telling me I should bin them that got me to read those letters in the first place. It was such an unHermione-like thing to say I simply had to read them. I can only imagine what it was like to say all that and then be left waiting for a response which never came. It must've been awful. How could you think I'd say no though? You're my best friend. I can't think of anything better than to get to know you, and if the big grin I have right now is anything to go by then I'd have to say I like you too.
And thanks for mentioning Hagrid's pets. That reminds me to send him a response to his letter; I'll send it along with this one, though that'll mean you'll have to use Imogen to send your reply. I thought it might've just been me she didn't like. Maybe if you start using her more often she'd lighten up a bit?
Anyway, in his letter Hagrid mentioned he had gotten me something for my birthday only it had escaped before he could send it, so I wanted to let him know that I appreciate the thought more than having any animal he could find. Besides Hedwig, who's more like family, I'm not sure I'm much of a pet person. The Dursleys certainly wouldn't have approved and likely would've taken it to the pound. Now that I'm away from there I wouldn't want to impose on the Weasleys any more than I already am. The way things turned out, Bill and the goblins not only turned up with my school things but my entire bedroom set as well, so I guess I can no longer claim to travel light. They even stole Aunt Petunia's washing machine!
You're right about the "something odd" preventing me from getting my letters. What actually happened turns out to be something that'd get a new friend of mine into a lot of trouble, so I'll have to wait until I can introduce you to tell you the whole story. As it happens, that's what got me out of "the family situation" and started all the legal problems.
Those legal problems only deal with me though and aren't about the thing that happened at the end of term, so you wouldn't need a litigator. I wouldn't know where to start looking for one of those on my own. I didn't see any magical law offices in Diagon Alley, but at the time I didn't know to look for them. Lichfield happens to work for – another place – and is taking my case as an extension of his former bailiff duties and to help that employer. I think I should keep all that a secret for now, but if a certain thing happens they're expecting to happen, I may be able to tell you a lot more before too long.
You're right about Lichfield though, from what's been said he actually knew my grandfather since their Hogwarts days; it turns out his name was Charlus. I kind of got the feeling he and my grandfather were best friends. He kept saying stuff like, "that's what Charlus would do." He didn't say anything about my grandmother but maybe he was just more his friend than hers. Then again, from what I heard, her grandfather was a Hogwarts headmaster the likes of Malfoy and was so bad the goblins still call him "Phineas the Foul," so maybe he didn't like her and didn't want to say. He didn't say much about my parents either though, besides the fact he'd only met them a few times, so who knows. Apparently I met him as a baby.
Speaking of which, it turns out my name is Harold and nobody ever told me. Looks like my mother named me after her father and he had been named Harold, though everyone called him Harry. For all the official grown up stuff I've decided to use the name Harold, since it makes me sound older and more responsible, while my friends can still call me Harry.
Bill was a nice guy, though he looked like a rock star; definitely not what I was expecting. I guess that's what comes from being a Curse-breaker though. I missed most of the Cairo conversation because Mr. Weasley kept me glued to his side all night asking me things like what the purpose of a rubber duck was and how airplanes stayed up. From what I heard it sounds like Bill's job is all about breaking into old tombs and dealing with mummies while looking for treasure. It makes him sound like Indiana Jones.
Speaking of that, I got something from Ron's little sister that's – well, it's quite disturbing actually. If you promise not to make fun of me or tell anyone how embarrassing it'd be for me to be ribbed for it, then I'll send it to you with my next letter. It looks like she grew up with a whole bunch of them and had kind of fallen in love with them. She actually fainted when I arrived. It's made things rather awkward and she's avoided me ever since, but I did manage to save her from being eaten by a couch later on. She asked me not to tell anyone about that but I think she meant not to tell her brothers. I feel kind of bad for her, but it also doesn't seem right to be around her since – well, since I'm already getting to know you.
I should've known you'd find some way to get a new book, even when you haven't been to Diagon Alley yet. That first letter of yours made me think you'd start up a summer check-out program for Hogwarts as soon as you got back, just to make sure you wouldn't be without a book to read ever again. Hang on – is that why you're so good? You've been studying ahead all this time? Now that I think about it, you did say on the train you'd already tried a few spells. Just how long have you been studying magic?
You can stop making fun of me for not doing the same though. I actually managed to get almost an hour in on Charms before Ron came in to drag me into a two-on-two Quidditch game with Fred and George, not that he had to drag me that hard. I also plan on maybe another hour or two after dinner. I've had to tell them that I can't tell them about what's going on either, though they do know a tiny bit. They seem to think I'm writing to Lichfield now. Knowing what kind of stuff Fred and George would get up to if they knew the truth, I'm happy to let them think so. I hadn't noticed that about History of Magic, maybe I'll look at that tonight. If all else fails I can imagine Binn's droning voice and I'll be out like a light in no time.
Sorry to hear you and your parents aren't getting along. It's not about me, or about us writing to each other, is it? I don't want to get you in trouble. I was going to say we could always just talk in person once we get back to Hogwarts, but with Ron and everyone else there too it might be harder than it sounds. It's not like we could talk in the library either without Madam Pince kicking us out. It makes me wonder how the older students get to know each other in the first place.
That reminds me, the new friend of mine warned that "terrible things" were going to happen at Hogwarts this year. He couldn't say what it was, or who was behind it. He was pretty much only interested in making sure I stayed safe, even if it meant staying at the Dursleys. Luckily I managed to talk him into helping me instead. I'm hoping he'll be able to tell me more once I can see him again. Either way we should be on our guard.
When it comes to my previous "family situation," it was nothing compared to what this new friend went through. The Dursleys may have kept me in the cupboard under the stairs, let Dudley steal my food, have me do their yard work, yelled at me every time anything "abnormal" happened, and never given me anything for Christmas or my birthday but at least they didn't make me punish myself regularly, let alone remind me to do extra punishments. He actually said he'd have to "shut his ears in the oven door" just for coming to see me.
The fact I'm away from the Dursleys and looking forward to never seeing them again is all because of him. I told Lichfield to do whatever he could to get him out of that situation and I didn't care how much it cost, so hopefully he'll be away from his family soon too. From talking to that new friend I learned people sometimes have a big red button it's better for people not to push. The Dursleys might be a bit of a button, but at least it doesn't have me ram my head against the wall like his did. I'm just glad to see the last of them and don't care what happens to them from here on out.
Well, that's not really a cheerful topic to end on but I can't really think of anything else to say. So what were the kids like at your old school and did you ever do anything odd that must've been magic?
Anyway, it's almost time for dinner so I better go get ready. Mrs. Weasley is a really good cook. After that, Ron will probably beat me at chess again before I make it back to the room. Even though it has all my stuff in it, it seems strange to call it "my room" when it's in Ron's house.
Always yours, Harry
.o0O0o. Arrives Early Monday Afternoon .o0O0o.
Hey Harry,
I guess I should have known it'd be a gamble to put that in there but I was in such a rush to write to you before you had a chance to read them that I didn't think it could have the opposite effect. I guess I really shouldn't complain though. As for the response that never came, well, that was a bit awful. I kept thinking I had completely ruined our friendship and really crazy things like you and Ron were laughing about it behind my back, and that's not something you would do at all. I must say though this big grin I got from reading that you like me might even make dealing with Imogen a pleasant experience.
It's a pity about you and pets. I wonder what the pound would do if Hagrid had sent you a Fluffy Junior. I had been thinking of getting one myself; not a Cerberus of course, maybe a cat. Something where the hair would get all over the place and stand out would really get to my mother. Then again, now that I've won one victory it might not be time to press my luck. I'll try Imogen more often but she'll probably bolt almost as soon as she arrives, she always has with Dad's letters to me.
Oh, I've just got to tell you! You made the tabloids! My father has the habit of reading them; he says he finds them funny. Anyway, you were on the front page! Well, not you exactly, it was your aunt. At least I assume it was your aunt because it really couldn't be anyone else. Her name was Petunia Dursley, she lives in Surrey, and she claimed that a rock star and a horde of goblins had stolen her washing machine! I've enclosed the article so you can read all about it.
Why would you think I'd make fun of you? Maybe whatever she gave you is only funny in the muggle context; if Fred and George haven't made a joke about it yet then you're probably safe. It couldn't be any worse than having Indiana Weasley and the Goblins of Doom at your beck and call like you're Ali Baba and they're your forty thieves. And I appreciate your loyalty but you do know you can have other friends besides me, right? What's her name anyway? We can't just keep calling her 'Ron's little sister.'
Who's this other new friend you mentioned, the one who got you away from the Dursleys? His family sounds absolutely horrible. You're doing right thing by getting him out of there. I'm so proud of you. If you think it'd be too much of an imposition on the Weasleys, I could always ask my parents if we could take him in, at least until school starts. Does the wizarding world have a Child Protection System to help children in need like that? What about child placement or adoptive services? It's not just about getting him away from the abuse; it's also about getting him into a good environment.
Don't worry about me and my parents; it actually has nothing to do with you. Well, not really. My Dad's been really supportive, a little too supportive actually. He pranked me with a magical quill so I'd be "more in touch with my innermost feelings" when I wrote that first letter. I still haven't completely forgiven him for how spectacularly wrong it could have gone, though the washing machine and telling him I had said we should have 20 kids immediately helped even things out. For now that quill is being kept in my book bag so I know where it is at all times and he can't do it again. I swear; the man's such a child. It's like having Fred and George as your father, except he's actually nice to talk to from time to time.
As for my mother, she's a bit of a button. A really big button that flashes and beeps and shocks you no matter what you do. Not quite to the point of making me run into a wall, which I hope you were joking about, but she has made me cry on more than one occasion. Sorry, it seems like she's even less of a cheerful topic than the Dursleys are. Maybe we should just avoid both of those for a while.
Let's see, what haven't I covered? Oh! I managed to find that relative of yours in Hogwarts, a History. They didn't call him "Phineas the Foul," but they did say that his tenure was "a dark time for Hogwarts marked by strain with the goblins and division amongst the Houses," not to mention the near abandonment of Hogsmeade, so it's got to be Phineas Nigellus Black, the only Slytherin ever to be appointed Headmaster. You'd think there'd be more than that, seeing how the position is so influential on future generations, not to mention Hogsmeade itself.
And speaking of the village, if you're really interested in how older students get to know each other, Third Years and up are allowed to visit Hogsmeade on certain scheduled weekends and those occasions have become a rather traditional time for many first dates. There may be more than a year between now and then but at least it's something to look forward to. I think Ron and the others are likely to be an issue no matter where we talk though. It's doubtful they'd let the opportunity to poke fun or prank us slide, and I'd really like not to be banned from the Library.
So you're a Harold? I must admit, Harold Potter is going to take some getting used to. It certainly makes you sound older. My Dad liked it better when I was writing to Harry than when I said I'd be writing to Harold, so I may just have to tease him with it a bit. I guess to him Harold sounds like someone who already shaves and drives a car. He did turn it around on me though and said, "No wonder you're so mature for your age, between Harold and Ronald you hang out with two '–old' men." That should give you a picture of what my Dad is like.
It's a pity this Lichfield couldn't tell you much about what your Dad was like, though I guess it's early. There's no telling what he could tell you in time. Still, getting to know about your grandparents is nothing to sneeze at. Both of my Dad's parents died years before I was born and my mother was adopted and never knew, or cared, about her biological parents and I doubt her adoptive ones ever knew what to make of her, not like anyone does.
I must say I'm proud of you again for studying though. If you keep up the hard work maybe you'll find spending some time in the Library isn't such a bad thing after all. I don't expect to see you in there all the time, but if you happen to drop by, I'll make sure to save a seat for you. –smile–
A summer check-out program for Hogwarts is a great idea! If they have all those owls then they might as well use them. I'm sure they'd know some way they could use magic to make sure that the books make their way back on time and don't get damaged. I wonder if anyone's around during the summer to run it. I'll have to talk to Professor McGonagall, and probably Madam Pince, to see if we can set something up.
Now I wouldn't say that studying ahead is the only reason I happen to be at the top of the class, I actually did do a lot of studying during the year itself you know. I must admit though I did have a bit of a lead, but nothing compared to what those with wizarding families would have if they just applied themselves.
From what I remember, I think McGonagall said they were trying a new system and approaching everyone close to their birthdays, rather than all at once during the summer. I can only assume they've stopped and went back to the old way since she's spent this summer chasing down the new students for this year. Anyway, that means I had almost a year between when I got my letter and when we started Hogwarts. But when you compare that to the years of education magical families could provide their children, a year doesn't really amount to much at all.
And as for trying a few simple spells – well, McGonagall could tell I really wanted to get started, she said she had been the same way when she was eleven, and said that after we start school we wouldn't be allowed to practice magic at home, but before we start, as long as we didn't do it too much, the Ministry tends to cut new students a good bit of slack. As my Dad said, you can't give a bunch of kids a magic wand and expect them not to use it a time or two, even by accident.
I only did use it for a few simple spells though, and that was because my Dad thought we should make sure everything worked like it should. Besides that it was a lot of reading, quizzes, and some flash card drills. My Dad turned out to be really good at picking out questions the professors were likely to ask, he said it came from being a Teacher's Assistant in college. I should really get him to do that again after we get our other books.
The kids at my last school were alright, I liked the teachers better though. They always liked it when we studied hard and applied ourselves; some of the other girls got snippy whenever anyone else did better than they did. It shouldn't be surprising they didn't do well though when they wouldn't even crack a book and expected the answers to just fall into their lap, or worse, expected them to be provided for them just because they were pretty, popular, and had a group of friends that did whatever they said.
Sorry, I was just remembering the school "popular girl," Sheryl. She tried to pick on me once and stole my homework. I got so mad at her that for the entire day she couldn't speak a word. So much for Sheryl trying to make herself look good by reading off my answers to the class. Since I had actually done the homework though I was able to do it again really quickly, and that made me look even better for answering the questions after poor Sheryl was left almost in tears because she couldn't talk. They eventually had to send her home. She never tried that again.
I suppose the whole "my room" thing could be because you know it's temporary, or just because you haven't settled in yet. My dorm at Hogwarts doesn't feel like it's "my room" either, and we spend almost ten months there. I don't know if it's just because I have to share with other people or it's what those people are talking about, but it's hard to feel at home when Lavender and Parvati are giggling over fashion and trading the latest gossip. I think they're the reason I rarely saw Sally-Anne and the other dorm mate of ours she always went around with. I'm not sure I know her name; Fay, I think. They avoided the Talkative Two like the plague.
Well, I guess I should give Imogen a try. I hope this works.
Love always, Hermione
.o0O0o. Arrives Monday Evening .o0O0o.
Hey Hermione,
Don't tell this to Hedwig but I think Imogen might be faster. Your last letter didn't get here until late evening. I don't know how long I've got on this. She really doesn't like being locked in Hedwig's cage. I thought that might keep her from flying away but it just made her go mad as soon as I removed the letter. I think I'm going to have to send her off with this now and try again once Hedwig gets back.
Always yours, Harry
P.S. She bit me!
.o0O0o. Arrives Tuesday Morning .o0O0o.
Hey Harry,
She looked rather ruffled when she arrived and flew off to her tree as soon as she could, so I don't think Imogen enjoyed that trip at all. I think I'll wait until tomorrow morning before I try sending her again. If I ask her very nicely to wait on a response, maybe that'll help. It might take a bit of groveling on your part to make amends though. –smile–
Since your letter was so short there's not much for me to respond to. I can only guess at what you're likely to say when you can finally send your full response to my last letter so it's not like I can preemptively answer questions when you might ask something completely different. I wish I had made copies of my letters so I could have a better idea at what you're likely to ask.
How long do you think it'll be before Hedwig gets back? I really should look up the different owl species to check on their flying speed. Perhaps they'll have something on temperament as well. There's got to be something out there that'll explain why Imogen is the way she is. Do you think magical post owls might pick up a bit of the personality of their owners? My mother was the one who picked out Imogen and she's always reminded me of her. I'll see what I can find.
Hey Harry, I just got back from my old school library. The librarian let me slip in since Mrs. Bidwell was out and said as long as I didn't check anything out, she didn't have to know I was ever there. It was amazing! I never thought I'd not want to be a witch and just stay in my normal school but what they've got there is phenomenal.
I'd never believe it possible but they have a computer there that can use a telephone to call other computers and look up information on whatever you want! They call it the Internet and it'll probably be everywhere soon. It's like if all the books in the library were all hooked together with magic and all you had to do was pull one of them down and ask them something and you'd open it to find all the information you could ever want on the topic. Isn't that unbelievable? The wizarding world has got to have something like this; it just has to because the possibilities for schoolwork and research are so tremendous.
Sorry, I got a little carried away. I looked up a bit on the different owl species. Imogen is a tawny owl, and they actually are faster than the snowy owl, though I certainly wouldn't tell that to Hedwig. I think I've found something that may explain Imogen's behavior though. Tawny owls are solitary, non-migratory, and very territorial. This might explain why Imogen flies back as soon as she can, her instincts must be screaming at her to get back here, and since she's not naturally used to traveling or being around others, let alone being around either of us, it explains why she wouldn't want to hang around any longer than she has to. They've also been known to starve if they can't find a stable source of food within a stable territory so she'd also likely be concerned about intruders taking over her spot while she's gone.
I did notice several inconsistencies though. Tawny owls are supposed to be nocturnal and snowy owls are diurnal (meaning they're active during the day), but both seem to be active at both times of the day and, I suppose, sleep whenever they can. Female snowy owls are also supposed to have flecks of black or gray in their feathers as well, only the males are supposed to be completely white. All of that, and the fact Imogen seems fine when delivering mail but reverts to her natural impulses once the mail is removed, tells me there has to be magic involved.
I don't think whoever provides these owls to the shops would purposely do anything they thought would hurt the owls, but changing their normal sleep cycle to be more convenient for us can't be good for them when they've evolved to be the other way around. Neither can changing Hedwig's coloration to be pure white. While it certainly makes her look pretty to us, it'd be a shame if she never found a mate and had a clutch of her own just because all the other snowy owls thought she was male.
Oh, I also learned snowy owls have been known to hunt and eat other birds and tawny owls are often at risk from larger birds, so Imogen might see Hedwig as a natural predator, which explains why I've never seen her around when Hedwig shows up. I haven't seen them go after each other so I can only hope some of the magic on them would be used to prevent owl-on-owl violence, otherwise the whole owl post system would be at risk and I'd hate to see what the Owlery at Hogwarts would be like then.
Anyway, I think that's enough for this letter so I think I'll see if Imogen's up for another trip.
Love always, Hermione
.o0O0o. Arrives Tuesday Afternoon .o0O0o.
Hey Hermione,
Things are much quieter now Imogen's gone. I didn't realize just how loud she'd been until Mrs. Weasley came in wondering if I'd been torturing Hedwig. She suggested I try Hermes, that's the owl they got Percy when he made Prefect, since Errol's so shoddy but Percy said he was using him.
Percy's actually been spending more time than his room than I have. I kind of feel bad about it. Ron asked me to come visit so many times, and I've been itching to get here all summer, and now that I'm here I spend half the time in the room I kind of stole from them. But at the same time I can't really feel too bad about it because it's time I kind of get to spend with you. I mean, I know you're on the other side of the country, but when I'm writing to you it kind of feels like you're here, if that makes any sense.
Anyway, I can only say sorry for the response that never came, or I guess I should say the response that was really really late. That new friend would say he's sorry too if he could. He actually felt really bad about stopping my letters, but since that's what lead to us being friends and the two of us writing to each other now, I guess I can't be too mad at him.
Even if he hadn't done what he did, I still wouldn't have been able to write to you since Uncle Vernon had locked Hedwig in her cage and all my things were locked up in the cupboard under the stairs. So, in a weird way, having those letters delivered properly actually would have made being at the Dursleys worse since I would have known you liked me, not been able to respond, and then known that not responding I was making your life worse. I probably would've run away earlier if that had happened.
As much as I'd like to tell you about the new friend, I don't think I can. It doesn't look like our mail's being intercepted but just knowing his name and what his family's like was enough to give Lichfield something to go on to track them down and I don't want anything to get in the way of getting him out of there. No one should have to go through what he's been through. Not even Snape or Malfoy – well, maybe – no, not even them.
The less I tell you about what the Ministry does with kids the better off this conversation will be because I'm one of them. I think it'd be best he stay with me once he's out of there. I know the Weasleys will treat him well and there's no one else in the wizarding world I trust except Lichfield, and he's already got his hands full. Your place would be out for magical reasons.
You said a bailiff was an old title? What do they do anyway? I got the impression it was a bunch of legal stuff and helping my grandfather deal with rents and leases and the people on our land. I have to get used to saying our land or the land because my family still owns it even if other people are living on it, and whenever I started to call it their land (meaning the people who actually live on it) Lichfield looked like he was going to poke me. And if you ever saw Lichfield you wouldn't want his poking finger anywhere near you.
Anyway, are you sure you don't want a Cerberus? I'm sure Hagrid would let you have Fluffy if you said he'd be in a good home. At the very least he'd be out of that corridor. I imagine your dad would love to have him and if that didn't annoy your mum and get hair everywhere then nothing would.
And thanks so much for the tabloid article! That's them alright. It's probably the first time I ever smiled when I saw the Dursleys. Lichfield said something about letting them go the authorities if they didn't like the goblins taking my stuff and it looks like they did. Now the whole country thinks they're crazy. That alone has made this whole thing worthwhile. The only thing they ever cared about was what other people thought of them so now that Aunt Petunia's the crazy goblin lady I can see their precious social calendar being empty in no time.
I'll take the Indiana Weasley comment as your promise and you'd better remember you made it when you see what I'm sending. I'll try to attach both it and this letter to Imogen before I remove your letter, if she gets back before Hedwig. That way if she flies off right away then at least she'll be carrying something back to you. I haven't looked inside it yet; I don't really think I want to know what happens in them. It might make being in the same room with Ginny worse than it is now.
That's Ron's little sister, by the way, and I don't think she's looking for friendship. I've seen her watching from her room when we play Quidditch and looking at me when we're playing chess or exploding snap. Half the time she looks at me like she wishes I'd leave and the rest of the time seems disappointed I'm not someone else. She's already said she doesn't want me; she wants the person from the book I'm sending you. She didn't know I heard it when she said it but it was pretty obvious afterwards when the couch swallowed her up. I think she's disappointed that I don't measure up to, well, me.
And twenty kids? That's three times more than the Weasleys! I hope you have a big house. You haven't started planning their names yet, have you? Apparently the whole wizarding world expects them to be named James and Lily after my parents. It's not a bad idea, I just wish they'd let me think of it first. Twenty is a lot of Jameses and Lilies though; it'd probably get confusing pretty quick. I suppose we could always call them by number instead.
I can see what you were saying about your Dad. That does sound like a Fred and George thing to do, but I kind of see why he did it. You're not still using it, are you? Because, to be honest, I don't remember you being this relaxed or funny all year. Where was this Hermione, and is she the one that's going to be with us this year? Because if she is, that seat in the Library might be filled more often than not.
And since it's only a year away, I guess I should go ahead and ask if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me now so no one else can come in and ask before I get a chance to. That seems like the Harold thing to do. That way I have a whole year to mess things up and for them to prank us before you have to say no.
So I'm related to a Slytherin Headmaster? It doesn't surprise me he'd be a Slytherin. I guess I was just hoping there'd been some kind of mistake. I suppose it makes sense why the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin then. It kind of goes in families, doesn't it? My Dad and Mum might've been Gryffindors but both of my Dad's parents could've been Slytherins and their parents before them, and how would I ever know?
Could you imagine me having to room with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle? And to think, I visit the hospital wing often enough as it is. If I got Sorted there I might as well just move in with Madam Pomfrey. I guess me being a Slytherin would also make sense since I did set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley once at the zoo. I didn't mean to, we'd just been talking and it said it had never been to Brazil, so when Dudley pushed me out of the way the glass keeping it in just disappeared and off it went. It didn't pay him back for also being my bully at school, but it was funny. Still, I guess that was better than somehow ending up on the top of the school roof when running from his Harry Hunt and not being able to get back down. Being able to make my Uncle Vernon be quiet for an entire day would've been a nice trick to have. I wonder if that snake ever made it to Brazil.
I wasn't actually serious about the check-out program, it was supposed to be a joke. Lesson learned, never joke with Hermione when it comes to books. Don't worry though, I know you studied during the year. I happened to have been right there for a good bit of it. I wish I had a whole year of extra study before Hogwarts, it would've made dealing with Malfoy easier. How would flash cards for magic even work anyway? You put the spell on one side and the wand movement on the other? You did master swish-and-flick a little too quickly.
The Ministry seems to have a lot of loopholes when it comes to magic outside of Hogwarts. Did you know they can't tell who's casting magic in a magical home, or even if they're underage? Seems like they just ignore it and let the parents sort it out when there are older witches and wizards about. Magic in a muggle home though would be spotted instantly, they'd assume it's you, and you'd be given a warning. It's totally unfair, but then again, so is reading ahead while all I can do is try a few simple spells myself, just to see if they work. I'm not saying I did that, but don't tell anyone though, it's still illegal and they might try to cause trouble. Also, could you imagine what the Ministry would do if everyone found out it worked that way? It'd only make things worse, and you wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you?
Always yours, Harry
.o0O0o. Arrives Later Tuesday Afternoon – In the middle of the next letter .o0O0o.
Hey Hermione,
I guess the fastenings weren't tight enough because the book didn't go when Imogen did. She didn't look to be in a forgiving mood either. I'll try to send it with this letter later.
Was the Internet really so good you'd give up magic? It'd be awfully lonely at Hogwarts without you. Who'd save me a seat in the Library or go to Hogsmeade with me then?
I think I remember hearing something about that computer stuff once. I think Uncle Vernon said something about replacing all the workers in the factory with machines he could tell what to do. If he did though who would he yell at?
The thing about connecting books together sounds really interesting though. It'd certainly make our essays for Potions easier to get through.
I'll have to remember all that about tawny owls for the next time Imogen stops by. Maybe if I show her a nice tree here to call her own it might make her more comfortable.
Hedwig's supposed to have black on her feathers? It'd definitely look odd now I've gotten used to seeing her all white but with the way she is it'd be a shame if she never found a mate. You think we should ask someone about that? Hagrid's gamekeeper and he's never said anything. Then again, if it wasn't about a baby dragon he might not even notice. Wasn't there a class or something that dealt with animals? I think I remember hearing something about a professor who kept losing bits of fingers and things because of them. Then again, if he keeps being eaten he might not be that good of a professor.
Speak of the devil, Hedwig's back! I better wrap this up. She didn't seem quite up for another trip, at least until I said this could always wait until your owl got back and she could carry it for me. That got her. You might want to let her rest there though, she's probably tuckered out. And make sure to give her a very well done from me.
Harry
.o0O0o. Arrives Early Wednesday Afternoon .o0O0o.
OH MY GOD! First you run away from home and now you're doing illegal magic? And you're not even getting in trouble for it while I can't do the same? That is so unfair! I should write to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and tell them what you're doing, or worse, Professor McGonagall. I'm not going to though. If I did that you might get expelled and I'd never see you again, not to mention you'd hate me and never want to talk to me again.
It's just – I never hated being a muggleborn until now. I know you probably don't see it, but that's only because even though you're muggle-raised and not muggle-born (that's one of the things I actually like most about you), people don't treat you that way. Everything is just so stacked against people with our background though. It's like we've barged into someone's private little clubhouse where we're not wanted and never should have been let in, and now they're trying everything they can to get us to leave. You seem to be the only exception, and that's because you're the Boy-Who-Lived.
I get one little advantage so I could put my best foot forward, only to find there's a huge disadvantage on the other side that'll last for years while everyone else can go running off ahead if they like. I might as well be standing still or going backwards. Even if no one knows about it, like you imply, it's still there to be used against us. My father says I should try to beat them at their own game if I can, but how do I do that when it seems like the rules only apply to me? It's like I'm a pawn, everyone else is a queen, and the other side of the board is a million miles away. How can I ever even hope to catch up?
I know I shouldn't get like this, but I can't help it. I'm a worrier. I'm sure you'll do right by your new friend. The Weasleys sound nice, and I can't say there are any hard feelings about the letter. I'd hate to think the Ministry would be so incompetent when it came to looking after people they're supposed to serve but I guess if they actually knew what they were doing then the laws they pass actually would make things worse rather than being something you can just brush aside most of the time.
To answer your question, what a muggle bailiff did actually changed over time and varied depending on where you were. What you describe is like the ones who served a lord or landed gentry (a form of quasi-lower noble whose living could be maintained purely through the collection of rents) hundreds of years ago in the muggle world. Some of their bailiffs were like police officers, court officials, or dealt with all sorts of issues relating to administration and land use. I'd ask just how much land we're talking about but I'm afraid it'd make me sound shallow. I never thought about what the agricultural side of the wizarding world must be like. It really goes to show how much there's still to learn.
The book you said you were sending never made it here, so I assume you weren't able to attach it. The way you described what you had gotten from this Ginny girl made it sound like it was some sort of Harry Potter doll collection, which was rather funny; like a bunch of teddy bears with scars sown on their foreheads. I didn't even think it'd be a book. I mean, I knew you were mentioned in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, but they were little more than blurbs really. All they did was vaguely mention what happened and how it was so mysterious as to how you survived and what it might mean for your future.
One thing I wouldn't survive is having Fluffy as a pet. Even if he didn't eat me, my mother would kill me while my father stood around saying I'd brought it on myself. If I want to get technical though, and you know I love to, I never actually promised not to pick on you about it. –smile– That said, I guess now I'm going to have to wait for Hedwig to get back and you send that book, just to see how bad it actually is before I send this letter.
If this Ginny grew up with books about you, and she acts that way, it makes me wonder what kind of books they are. If she's looking at you like that then she's probably built these elaborate castles in the air when it came to you, so she might actually be disappointed that you don't measure up. If that's the case, then her loss is my gain because you're an absolutely amazing person – even if you are a bit Slytherin.
You admit to running away, doing illegal magic, consorting with new friends who also do illegal things, are being very secretive about all of it, and try to guilt me into not revealing a word – and in the same letter you ask me out? No wonder the Sorting Hat didn't know where to put you; that's cunning, courageous, ambitious, and daring all at the same time. You'd be a shoo-in for Slytherin if they weren't all blonde pureblood bigots with slick-backed hair whose sneer is bigger than their brain nowadays. Who knows what they were like back in your grandparents' day but if the way your dad turned out is any indication, they must've been made from a better cut of cloth.
And really, when you get technical about it, you only said you should ask me out so no one else can do it first. And since I was a hair's breadth away from being in Ravenclaw I can say I'm much too clever to fall for that. I don't have to answer you at all then since you really didn't ask me in the first place.
And speaking of Slytherin, when you said you were talking to a snake, was the snake doing the talking in English or were you doing the speaking to it? As bizarre as finding a magical talking snake in a muggle zoo would be the other sounds like – Oh! Hedwig's back! You manipulated Hedwig into delivering this? She'll definitely be staying here. I might just keep her with me from now on, just to make sure she stays out of your Slytherin hands, the poor male-looking girl. I feel so bad for her.
OH MY GOD! This is the book Ginny grew up with? The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Chamber of Doom? I'm laughing so hard right now, I'm actually crying. I can't stop and my sides hurt so badly. If I pass out it's entirely your fault. Okay, I think I'm better. Nope, here come the giggles. I've got to show this to my Dad when I'm done with this. He never even implied he wouldn't make fun of you. –smile–
Maybe it's a good thing I didn't give you a response to the question you didn't ask, because if this Harry showed up and asked me out I might just have to take him up on it. The two Harrys reminds me of your comment about the twenty kids. I'm not calling my children out by number, no matter who their father's parents are. And you go from "Always [my] Harry" to just Harry and expect a response to the unasked question? Well, if I was even thinking about giving you one before, I'm certainly not now.
To answer questions you did ask though, no, I'm not still using it and I don't know where this Hermione's been. She's probably been hiding from her mother to tell you the truth. As for being more relaxed and funny, maybe it's just because it's summer and I'm in my old room again that's gotten me so relaxed and the humor might be because this has been all done through letters where we have time to think about what we want to say before we write it.
Of course, it could just be you that brings it out in me. It does seem like a part of you is here with me when I'm writing to you, and I've never felt that way before, even when I was writing my Dad last year. Maybe it comes from not holding anything back and removing that filter that says, "No, you don't want to mention that," and "He'll take that the wrong way," or "You'll be mortified and he'll reject you if you say that."
I can only hope this Hermione is going to be the one who goes to Hogwarts with you this year, because I'm really starting to like her, and that's not something I've ever said before. The Internet might be an amazing way of finding what I'm looking for but there's no way it would be able to find anything as special as you, which is something I didn't even know I was looking for, so it looks like you're stuck with me and the library for a while longer.
I think I'll just keep Imogen here since this is where she's most comfortable, though that's not saying very much, and I'll send Hedwig back when I think she's ready. That'll keep us to one letter back and forth a day and you can have more time to spend with those red-headed friends of ours who so graciously invited you to stay.
Courteous regards, Hermione
.o0O0o. Arrives Wednesday Evening .o0O0o.
Hey Hermione,
Sorry for making you feel bad and being such a Slytherin. You saying "my Harry" makes me feel a lot better than when Ginny said it so here goes: Hermione Granger, will you go out with me?
Always Your Harry if you agree, Harry
.o0O0o.
Ron watched in horror as the Quaffle plummeted towards the ground again with George close behind. It was the final match of the most involved two-on-two Quidditch series ever held at the Burrow and Harry chose now to get all twitchy? Everything was being taken into account here: how many goals, how many saves, how many times the Quaffle changed hands, and how long it took for one team to score a hundred points. This would determine once and for all who the best Chaser was, who was the best Keeper, and which two people played best with each other and in what positions. The only stat not in consideration was how often you look off in the wrong direction and drop the ball, and that's the stat Harry seemed determined to dominate.
George easily recovered from Harry's foul up, pulled out of the dive, and with a burst of speed came straight at him. Harry had been acting strange all week, suddenly running off whenever that strange owl showed up and being holed up in Bill's old room for hours on end. Usually he managed to come to his senses long enough for a good game of Quidditch, lunch, maybe another game of Quidditch, some chess or exploding snap, dinner, and maybe a game of chess before disappearing again though.
He pushed those thoughts aside; he was not going to be distracted now. With Harry's playing in the tank every scrap of his Keeper skills were being called up just to keep them in the game and he was not going to blow it now.
Left – right – left – right – George zigged and zagged as he closed on the goal until he finally began his throw. With a sudden burst of speed Ron shot to his right, snagging the Quaffle before it could cross the crossed branches that marked the goal. That was the fifth time he saved them after Harry's bungling and the game wasn't even over yet!
"Oi! Harry, get your head in the game!" he shouted as he scanned the clearing for his teammate. He checked down on the ground, then up in the air. Harry wasn't anywhere to be seen. Off to one side Fred and George already had their heads together comparing notes on the game.
"What happened?" Ron asked as he joined them.
"Game called on account of Harry," George explained, totaling up the figures.
"Take a look," Fred said, shaking his head and pointing to the receding form of Harry bounding back to the Burrow so quickly he could've been flying – if his trusty Nimbus hadn't been dropped and lying forgotten in the dirt.
"How can he live with himself, honestly?" Ron asked, shaking the dirt out of the Nimbus's tail as they headed back home.
"It's an absolute disgrace treating a Nimbus like that," Fred said. "What should we do, draw and quarter him?"
"Boil him in oil?" George offered.
"I think the broom needs a new owner," Ron declared, "at least until its current one learns to show it proper respect."
Fred and George made identical sounds of pain, their hands clutched to their hearts as if wounded.
"We're not even that harsh, little brother," George scolded him.
"Maybe if it were you, but not Harry," Fred explained.
Before they were even a quarter of the way home the distant Harry gave off a loud cheer, sending the white speck that was Hedwig flying back up to the open window of Bill's old room.
"Look at him," Ron said. "He's gone completely mental. It's like he's been crowned Emperor of the Moon or something."
They put the brooms back in their shed as George gave out the bad news.
"Turns out I'm incredibly mediocre," he said checking the final scores.
"Ah, don't let it get you down, Georgie. I could have told you that years ago," Fred consoled his twin. "Everyone knows I'm the heart, soul, and life of us. It only makes sense I'd be the better player too," he smiled.
"You're the better Chaser," George corrected his twin. "I'm the better Keeper. But this one," he gestured to Ron, "he came out of nowhere today to clobber my score. If I didn't know any better I'd swear those two planned it."
"What's that?" Ron asked, nosing his way over to check out the scores himself.
He was ahead. He might never make a passable Chaser, but in terms of Saves he was way ahead. It was with a bouncing mood he led them back into the Burrow. Ginny sat morosely at the kitchen table reading the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages he had left out while their mum tried to covertly check and make sure her daughter wasn't doing anything she shouldn't be while starting to get ready for dinner.
"Harry back up in his room again?" Fred asked as he slumped into a chair, tired from hours spent defending a goal which had never once been assaulted.
"Oh, yes," their mother replied. "Probably won't see him until supper. He's as quiet as a house-elf, isn't he? I could do with ten more like him. Raising them would be a breeze," their mother beamed. Harry's quiet manner and voracious appetite had definitely gotten on her good side in the short time he'd been here. Ron doubted she'd hear a word against him.
"He spends a lot of time in that room," Ron said. "How often can he really write to Gringotts?"
"What makes you think it's a bank he's writing to?" Fred asked with a grin.
"Oh, George, surely not. He's awfully young for that," their mother waved the thought away.
"I dunno, mum," George said, coming to his twin's defense. "There're a lot of girls who'd like to catch a young Seeker's eye. One of them might've done it."
Ginny didn't look like she quite knew what to do with this information.
"He has been in that room a lot since he got here," Fred said to press his point.
"Not any more than Percy and he certainly doesn't have–," their mother stopped and seemed to review everything that'd happened since she'd picked them up from the Hogwarts Express almost two months ago.
With a clang the dishes were left to lie in the sink as the middle aged housewife with a mission made her way upstairs.
"Percy?" their mother called. "Percy, what have you been doing up here all by yourself?"
Ron got a sinking feeling in his stomach, his joy from earlier completely deflated. He knew for a fact there was at least one girl who wanted to catch Harry's eye, and probably one girl he'd let himself be caught by if she so much as said a word. The fact they were the same person didn't please him in the slightest.
Following his mother's example, he got up to find out what exactly was going on.
.o0O0o.
AN: As you should all know by now, the narrator of this story is always going to skew things in the direction of whoever it is I'm following at the time. As such, any far-fetched comparisons to animals should not be taken as a sign of natural animagi abilities. Judging from the reviews, the people who get it, get it, and appreciate this for what it is. As Robst said, "In the end – the only person who needs to be happy with the story is you." Personally, I'm happy with this story and its slow pace and am glad many of you like it. I hope you all stick around and leave a review.
Thanks for reading.