Chapter 11 – Letters, or lack thereof
Objectively speaking, Harry was having the best summer of his life (though that was likely because the bar was all the way in hell). After the initial encounter with the Grangers, the Dursleys had been rather wary of Harry and had stayed out of his way. He chalked it up to fear that he would turn them into pigs.
Harry wouldn't be the one to tell them that he wasn't allowed to do magic outside Hogwarts.
He did his chores and stayed out of their sight. As soon as he was done, he left the house and wandered the streets of Little Whinging, making sure only to get back before dusk. His exploration was only possible because Dudley had been forbidden from speaking to Harry outside, lest he get a pig's tail again.
He had more freedom now than at any other point in his life. Then why was he so miserable?
The moment they returned from the station, Uncle Vernon locked Harry's things in his childhood bedroom: the cupboard under the stairs. He wondered whether his Hogwarts professors would penalise him for not completing his homework. He didn't fancy explaining that his aunt and uncle locked away his things to avoid contaminating their house with his 'freakishness'. He also dreaded Oliver's reaction to finding out he hadn't flown all summer. Would Oliver kick him off the team for poor performance? What if he was the reason they couldn't win again?
No, Harry wasn't any freer than he'd been in the past. He was equally as trapped. The only difference was that he'd tasted freedom. He'd tasted friendship and full stomachs and finally belonging. In the past, he'd had nothing. Now, he finally had something for the Dursleys to take away. And it hurt so much worse when they did.
Even worse, it was the day before his birthday, and he was to have his last lesson with his mother. Unable to do homework or practice Quidditch, Harry had thrown himself into his studies with his mum. Her impending departure made his mood so much worse.
He sat at his writing desk, waiting for the sun to set. The sooner he went to sleep, the sooner he could see his mother. The fact that it would be for the last time was forced out of his mind.
His owl, Hedwig, sat in her cage atop a desk, looked at him indignantly.
"I know, I know, girl," he tried to coax her into eating a cold, stale piece of chicken. "You haven't left your cage in weeks, and the food tastes terrible. I get it, but it's all we've got. Just a bit over a month left, and then we'll be back at Hogwarts."
He wasn't sure who he was convincing, Hedwig or himself.
That piece of chicken was from a tin of cold chicken soup, which, along with a singular slice of stale bread, made up his meal for the day. He found that after eating till he was full at Hogwarts, coming back and surviving off these meagre portions had become much harder. Still, he wouldn't let Hedwig starve and set aside some meat for her before he ate.
"What do you think happened, Hedwig?" Harry asked his owl, stroking her feathers. "Why hasn't anyone written yet?"
Harry hadn't received any communication from his friends all summer.
He felt betrayed. He was angry and couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. Was it his reaction to Hermione playfully hitting him that had scared her off? Then what about Alicia and Katie?
How he wished he could reach out himself, but Hedwig was indisposed. At least he'd been allowed to keep her in his room, albeit locked in her cage. She was his only companion in this little pocket of hell.
The owl squawked at him indignantly.
"I'm not saying it's your fault," he rolled his eyes. "I know you're just as trapped as I am – even more so, actually. I just don't know how to feel about it."
She rubbed her head against his hand, and he smiled. "At least I've got you here. I think I'd be going mental without you."
Some people would already consider him mental for conversing with an owl. He didn't voice that thought because he liked having fingers.
He eventually gave up on feeding Hedwig, and slid the window open, suppressing a shiver. He slipped into bed and pulled his ratty sheets over himself. He entered the Nothing, as had become customary over the past few weeks. Instead of sorting through new memories, he went through his old ones. He had no interest in reliving the misery of the Dursleys immediately after living it for real.
He'd gotten to the point in his occlumency that he could retain a semblance of consciousness. While strong emotions still kicked him out, he could think enough to pick, choose, and view his sorted memories.
A memory of the Quidditch Pitch replaced the dark void. Harry zipped through the air on his broom, lazily chasing after Ron, who'd managed to finagle Fred's Cleansweep.
"Give it back!" He yelled over the wind, laughter cutting through his words. "That book is super rare; I don't want it to get damaged!"
Ron shook his head. "No way, mate. You've had your nose in this book for too long – you're turning into Hermione!"
"You take that back!" Harry said, turning after the red-haired boy.
"You should be glad to be compared to me!" Hermione yelled from the stands, sitting with a stack of toast and a book. She watched the boys' antics with fond exasperation. "You two certainly don't seem to mind when you need me to help you do your homework."
"Yeah, you're the best, Hermione," Harry gave her a thumbs up. He gasped exaggeratedly when she returned an obscene gesture. "The prim and proper Hermione Granger, flipping us the bird. Preposterous!"
"I think we've been a bad influence on her, mate," Ron grinned at her, who rolled her eyes. "Also, what's pre-post-us mean?"
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "I heard Alicia say it once. Sounded cool."
Hermione facepalmed. "If something is preposterous, that means it's ridiculous or lacking common sense. Sounds like two people I know."
"You wouldn't be talking about us, would you, Hermione?" Harry said with faux outrage. "Because Ron and I have an excess of common sense, I'll have you know."
"I think I'm the smartest person I know," Ron said with exaggerated swagger.
"You must not know many people then," Harry deadpanned, and the redhead glared.
"Traitor!"
"Never said I was on your side, book thief," Harry waggled his eyebrows. He caught up to his best mate and wrestled the book out of his hands. "Now, gimme that."
Harry landed directly in the stands next to Hermione, his book clutched in hand. He flipped through it, searching for signs of damage, as Ron landed near him.
"We're done with exams; what are you still studying for?" Ron whined, sitting next to Hermione and stealing a slice of toast off her stack.
"You have been writing in that book a lot, Harry," Hermione agreed. "What is it about?"
Harry sighed. The book in question was the closest thing he had to a Sensomagy manual. It was a compendium of notes from every lesson his mother had given him, plus what little he had gleaned from the books in the restricted section.
"Just some extra work I'm doing for Flitwick," Harry lied.
"May I see?" Hermione asked and he shook his head.
"Not yet, maybe when it's done," he smiled apologetically, and Hermione frowned but thankfully let it lie.
Ron, however, grabbed the notebook and flipped through it. "What's mage sight?"
Harry ripped the notebook out of his hands. "Nothing," he said hurriedly.
Hermione opened her mouth before thinking better of it. Harry groaned internally, knowing that look in her eye. It was the look that meant she would spend the last few days at Hogwarts scouring the library for that name.
The memory ended with the trio trudging back to the castle in silence.
In the Nothing, Harry frowned as he watched the memory. Was his secret causing a rift between him and his friends? He could always tell them. It wasn't a matter of trust.
He trusted them implicitly, or at least he had before they went radio silent. He wasn't sure what to think now. But trust wasn't the reason he kept his mage sight from everyone save Alicia. The only reason he even told Alicia was because she caught him in the act. Mage sight was the only thing that was his alone, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.
But if it was driving a wedge between him and his friends…
No more secrets.
The next memory played. It was the morning after he'd discovered that Quirrell was the broom-jinxer. He watched himself run into Oliver in the common room. He watched himself tickle the portrait and enter the kitchens. He watched Floppy introduce herself again. The mouthwatering sight of the pancakes had him snapping out of the Nothing, feeling extra hungry.
He closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him and help him escape his misery. Quickly enough, his body obliged.
He awoke to the now familiar sight of his chambers in the Palace of Light. He massaged the crick in his neck as he walked the hallway to the training room. Lily was waiting for him, sitting under the gazebo still reading that same book as before.
"Hello, Harry," she smiled as he approached. He sat down next to her, and she hugged him to her side. After a month of forced solitude, Harry didn't even mind the cold, silky feeling of her touch and leaned into her.
Harry mumbled an unintelligible greeting.
"I see you're in a bad mood today," she chuckled. "Going to miss your mother?"
"Yes," he mumbled into her shoulder.
She hugged him a little tighter.
"It isn't goodbye, merely see you later," she reminded him. "But I will expect you to join me only after a long life. You've got a lot to accomplish, Chosen."
He nodded with a frown.
"Just see you later," he repeated, and she nodded with a sad smile. "I'll miss you."
"And I will miss you too, child," she said. "But it is not time for goodbyes just yet. We still have a few hours left, so let us make the most of it."
She stood and waved her hand, causing the comfortable chairs under the gazebo to be replaced by yoga mats and a desk with an array of feathers. Drapes covered the gazebo in relative darkness. Floating candles illuminated the makeshift tent.
"Let us see how far you have come, Harry," Lily smiled. "First, let us see if you can identify the magic on these feathers."
She moved over and physically picked up three feathers and separated them from the rest.
Harry reached and touched the first feather. His magic left his fingertip and intermingled with the feather's magic. Images and words flashed across his mind. An image of the feather with dirt smeared on it. The word clean.
"A cleaning charm?" Harry frowned; eyes still closed. "I don't think I know the incantation, though."
"Indeed, it is a cleaning charm," Lily smiled proudly. "It is a charm above your grade level, so I did not expect you to know it. Still, you are able to identify its purpose, and that is equally as useful."
Harry learned early on that Sensomagy was a branch of ancient magic that far predated the modern system used in Wizarding Britain. As a result, he couldn't discern the incantations since the magic preceded modern spells. But, he could identify the intent and effects, which amounted to the same thing in practice.
He quickly identified the other two feathers as being transfigured and conjured. The conjured one had an anti-transportation spell that Lily said was an anti-portkey charm.
"Well done," Lily praised. "Next, I want you to tell me who charmed these feathers."
Harry held the transfigured feather and tried to identify the owner. He reached out to it, and this time, instead of asking about the magic itself, he asked about its caster. Dark hair and rich, violet eyes appeared in his thoughts. An image of the rising moon.
"Luna?"
Lily nodded.
The next one was a bit harder. The conjured feather felt more foreign – he didn't think he'd met anyone with this signature before. White hair the colour of snow, pale skin, and grey eyes that shone like stars. A hall illuminated by torches. Sensation. Guidance. Luminance.
"Is that Theia?" Harry asked. Lily looked surprised for a split second before she composed herself.
"Indeed, that is the Light Mother," she nodded.
Harry still hadn't met the goddess who was to be his patron. He was supposed to meet her only after he'd mastered Sensomagy, which would hopefully be today.
He went through another batch of tests and trials, beating each. By the end, Lily proclaimed that he'd completed all stages of his Sensomagy training. He was rather pleased with himself and promised to treat himself for his troubles upon returning to Hogwarts.
After completing his training, Lily reverted the gazebo, and Harry blinked away his mage sight. He spent the next few hours enjoying his mother's company, knowing it would be the last he would see of her for a long time.
At last, it came time to say goodbye.
"Hello, Potters," Luna stood at the lip of the gazebo with her hands clasped behind her back. She smiled sadly at Harry. "It is time for you to return, Chosen."
His hands shook as he stood up. Lily rose with him.
"Come, I will bring you to your chambers one last time," she said, offering her hand, which he accepted.
The cool skin of his mother's palm burned against his warm fingers, threatening him with frostbite. Likewise, his heart froze over at the thought of saying goodbye. Each night, if only for a few hours, Harry didn't feel like an orphan. That brief respite from the harsh reality of his circumstance was now coming to an end. It was a tough pill to swallow.
Lily led Harry to his chambers, and Luna excused herself. He pulled his mother into a desperate hug – the first time he could remember initiating one, in this dreamscape or otherwise. He ignored the uncomfortably cool sensation and tried to glean a lifetime's worth of affection from her at that moment.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, her voice faint like she was in a different world. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."
"I wish we had more time," he sniffled. "I'm going to miss you. I don't know if I can go back to living without you. Sometimes – sometimes, I wish I were with you and Dad."
"No, Harry, you must never think that way," she said sternly. "You have so much to live for. So much to accomplish on this plane. Do not throw it all away. One day, the Potter family will be reunited in Hades' kingdom, but I only hope that it is not for a long time."
Lily held him at shoulder's length and looked deep into his eyes.
"Live, Harry," she said softly. "Live your life to the fullest. That is the opportunity your parents' sacrifice has given you. Live your life so well that it is enough for three lifetimes."
Harry hugged her again as tears fell down his cheeks. "I will. For you and Dad, I will."
She tucked him into bed and wiped the tears off his face with a tissue. She kissed him on the forehead, and he suppressed a shiver at the cool sensation. He looked at her one last time, drinking in the high cheekbones and the regal set of her shoulders, before closing his eyes. He squeezed her hand one last time before she waved her free hand over his face, sending him into the realm of unconsciousness.
The last words he heard were "Happy Birthday, Harry."
The next morning, he woke up in a foul mood. Of course, his relatives had to pick today of all days to host their stupid dinner party. Uncle Vernon was hosting Mr. Mason, one of his clients, with the hope of securing a large deal for his company, Grunnings.
When she was assigning him his chores for the day, Aunt Petunia caught him staring at her. He was trying to see any resemblance to his mother in her face. He found none and got nothing except suspended lunch privileges for his troubles.
In a brief respite from his chores, Harry sat in the backyard, feeling the sun's heat bear down on the back of his neck.
"Happy birthday to me," he mumbled to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. He plucked at a blade of grass, watching the pigment smear his fingertips green. "Happy birthday, dear Harry, happy birthday to me…"
Against all reason, he'd hoped that his friends would write him on his birthday. He didn't expect gifts, not like Dudley would've demanded, but he would've been ecstatic with even a word.
He'd even left the window open last night, shivering in the chilly summer air, in the hope that an owl would stop by.
Still, there was nothing.
He wiped the grass on his pants and stared into the hedge behind him. Suddenly, he jerked backwards. He could've sworn he saw a pair of eyes like large, bulbous headlamps. Then he blinked and they disappeared.
Great, now he was going loopy too.
Harry fisted a clump of grass from Aunt Petunia's perfectly tended lawn (though Harry usually did all the tending).
The lack of letters, plus the grief of losing his mother a second time, put Harry into a foul mood. So, when Dudley came over, Harry already knew he would likely lose his temper and resigned himself to whatever punishment he would receive.
"I know what day it is," Dudley sang as he waddled over.
"Congratulations, Dudley," Harry said dryly. "You figured out the days of the week. Planning on working out the months of the year next?"
Dudley scowled, and Harry unsuccessfully smothered a grin. His laughter vanished at the acerbic smirk on the larger boy's face.
"I know it's your birthday," Dudley said gleefully. "Don't you have any friends at that freak school of yours that'll send you presents?"
It was Harry's turn to scowl. "Sod off before I give you another pig's tail. I'll see if I can add a pair of ears on top."
"You can't do any of your freakishness here," Dudley said, though he didn't look too convinced. "Dad locked all your things away."
"Want to test that theory?" Harry grinned and raised his hands, remembering his first train ride with Ron. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat pig yellow."
Dudley shrieked and ran away to his mother. Aunt Petunia returned and whacked Harry over the head with a frying pan. She told him to check on the pudding in the freezer and set the dining table. With a dark look at her retreating back, a dazed Harry left for the kitchen. Meanwhile, Dudley and his father left to pick up their dinner jackets from dry cleaning.
Just over two hours later, the Dursleys retreated into their rooms to get dressed, leaving Harry to his own devices for the first time that day. He stared at the clock on the stove, watching the seconds tick by. How many more of those would have to pass before he was at Hogwarts again?
Did he even want to go back? Now that his friends had almost certainly abandoned him.
That was a stupid question. Even without them, Hogwarts was better than Privet Drive in every way. Hogwarts was his home.
The Dursleys came downstairs, dressed to the nines. Harry thought fancy clothes weren't enough to hide their hideous personalities. Petunia gushed over Dudley, calling him the most handsome boy she'd ever seen. Personally, Harry thought he looked more like a pig in a wig.
Once Vernon and Petunia ran a final check of the plans for the evening, they sent Harry up to his room. He trudged up the stairs and closed the door softly behind him. He let out a long, tired exhale before turning around and gasping.
There was a house elf on his bed.
Harry withheld some choice words that would've had Aunt Petunia washing his mouth out with soap. The house elf stood awkwardly on his bed, looking rather haggard compared to the ones he'd met at Hogwarts. Where the Hogwarts elves had all worn clean tea towels with the Hogwarts crest sewn on, this elf wore a dirty, ragged pillowcase. He was badly hurt, with bruises littering his body and bandages wrapped around both his ears.
"Er- Hello," Harry said cautiously.
"Harry Potter!" The elf exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. Harry winced, hoping that the walls were particularly thick downstairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir. Such an honour it is…"
"Thank you," Harry said in a low voice as he sank into his desk chair.
"Dobby? Is that your name?" Harry asked quietly, hoping the elf would take the hint. His hopes were dashed.
"Yes sir!" he squeaked, making Harry wince again. "My names be Dobby, sir! Dobby the house elf!"
"Nice to meet you, Dobby," Harry said, and Aunt Petunia's shrill laughter rang from downstairs. Harry thought with amusement that she sounded a little like the house elf. "Could you keep your voice down? It really isn't the best time for me to have a house elf in my room, you know?"
Dobby hung his head low.
"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," Harry said quickly, hoping Dobby wouldn't start wailing aloud. "Is there any reason you're here?"
"Oh yes, sir," the elf's large, bandaged ears flapped earnestly. "Dobby has much to tell Harry Potter sir… but Dobby knows not where to begin…"
"All right, you should sit down then," Harry tried to smile despite his bewilderment, and gestured to his bed.
To his horror, the elf broke into tears. Very loudly.
"Sit down!" Dobby wailed. "In my life, Dobby has never… never ever…"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry said frantically. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"Offend? No sir," the elf cried. "Dobby has heard stories of the great Harry Potter's greatness, but he is being greater than even the stories!"
"What stories?" Harry asked. "Also, please quiet down. If my uncle hears us, I'm a dead man."
"Whose be threatening the great Harry Potter?" Dobby asked angrily. Harry groaned.
"No one! No one!" he waved his hands. "It's a figure of speech."
Harry helped Dobby onto the bed before sitting back in his chair. The elf seemed to have calmed down enough for coherent speech.
"Harry Potter sir never offends Dobby, sir," the elf shook his head vehemently. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard. Like an equal –"
Harry shushed the elf frantically as its voice rose again. He quieted down.
"You can't have met many decent wizards then," Harry said feebly. Dobby looked on the verge of agreeing before abruptly rising and banging his head against the wall.
"BAD DOBBY! BAD DOBBY!"
Harry had to physically restrain the elf and pull him away from the wall to keep him from injuring himself. He continued beating himself over the head with flailing hands, which Harry too had to dodge once or twice.
"Dobby! Stop!" Harry hissed. The elf went limp, and Harry let go. "What are you doing? Why are you hurting yourself?"
"Dobby be punishing himself, Harry Potter, sir," the elf said mournfully. "Dobby nearly spoke ill of his family."
"Your family? You mean your masters?" Harry asked, remembering what Flitwick told him about house elves back in November. "Who are they?"
"Dobby can't say, sir. They would be furious if they found out Dobby came to see you," the elf nodded sadly. "Dobby will probably have to shut his ears in the oven again for his disobedience."
Harry stared in horror at the bandages on the elf's ears. "Why would you do that? Your family let you do that?"
"Oh, yes," Dobby nodded sadly. "Theys be encouraging it. Sometimes, they be reminding Dobby to punish himself more."
"That's vile!" Harry exclaimed. "Can't you leave? Is there any way I can help?"
Dobby once again broke into sobs, though Harry's frantic shushes managed to tone them down to whimpers.
"I be knowing about Harry Potter sir's greatness, but I never knew about his kindness, too," the elf wailed. Harry looked on awkwardly. "No, sir, only Dobby's masters can be freeing Dobby by giving him clothes."
"What about the elves at Hogwarts? Are they also treated like you?" Harry doubted it, remembering the happy and healthy creatures he'd met once in the kitchens. But he'd rather be safe than sorry. Dobby's story made what the Dursleys put Harry through seem almost humane, and he would be damned if he ate food cooked by abused creatures.
"No, sir," Dobby shook his head, and Harry let out a breath of relief. "The great Professor Dumbledore be taking good care of his elves, sir."
Then Dobby wrung his hands nervously. "Speaking of Hogwarts, sir, Dobby has come to warn you. There is a plot happening, sir. It is not safe at Hogwarts; Harry Potter must not return."
"No way," Harry said immediately. "I have to go back. Hogwarts is my home. I can't stay here."
"Harry Potter must not be going back, sir," the elf repeated stubbornly.
"You don't know what it's like here," Harry insisted, beginning to get angry. "The Dursleys – I can't stay here."
"There is great danger at Hogwarts. Harry Potter will be safer here."
"If there's danger, that's only more reason I have to go back," Harry said, surprising even himself. "My friends – they'll be in danger. I have to go back for them."
"Friends who won't even write to Harry Potter?"
Harry's veins filled with ice. "How did you know that?"
From within his pillowcase, Dobby withdrew a stack of letters. On the very top, Harry could make out Ron's untidy scrawl.
"Dobby hoped that if Harry Potter thought his friends abandoned him, he wouldn't want to go back," he spoke hesitantly as if expecting Harry to throttle him. He was close if he were being honest. "But Dobby underestimated how noble and good the great Harry Potter is being."
Harry didn't hear any of that.
"Give that back," his voice was low and brittle. Weeks' worth of loneliness, fear, and betrayal coagulated in his gut as unbridled rage. His hands shook with fury as he looked at Dobby.
"Promise you won't return to Hogwarts, and Dobby will give Harry Potter his letters," the elf said.
"Never," Harry snarled.
"Then Dobby must prevent Harry Potter from returning to Hogwarts, whether hes be liking it or not."
Harry lunged at Dobby, aiming to wrestle the letters out of his hands. The elf snapped his fingers and, with a loud pop, disappeared. Harry heard an identical sound on the landing outside his room. He wrenched his door open to see the elf scamper down the stairs. Harry cursed before chasing after the tiny creature.
Dobby's head start was too much, and Harry arrived at the bottom of the stairs to see him enter the kitchen. He followed and saw Dobby snap his fingers one more time. The letters disappeared from his hands. Harry didn't have long to wonder where they went as the giant pudding Aunt Petunia had painstakingly prepared began to float.
"No, no, no, Dobby, please don't," Harry pleaded. Magic or not, the punishment he would receive if anything happened to the dessert would be horrible. "They'll kill me."
"So, I believe it's time we get to business," He heard Uncle Vernon say as the party rose from their seats. "Pudding is in the kitchen if you'll follow me."
Harry's eyes widened. He looked at Dobby with pleading eyes, but the elf wouldn't look at him. The pudding moved to float over the door. "Harry Potter must say he won't be going back to school."
"Please Dobby, don't do this."
"Say it, sir."
"I can't, Dobby. You know I can't."
"Sorry, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said just as the party entered. Aunt Petunia walked in, followed closely by Mrs. Mason. The two women were laughing insincerely at some inane joke, completely unaware of the giant vat of cavities and toothache floating over them.
The pudding landed with a loud crash right on Mrs. Mason's head. The older woman shrieked as she was covered in gelatine and frosting. The front of Aunt Petunia's dress was also fully covered in the sticky dessert.
Uncle Vernon saw him first.
"Boy!" he yelled, pointing his finger the size of a sausage in his face. "What have you done?"
"It wasn't me! It was –" Harry looked around frantically, only to find Dobby had vanished in the commotion.
"That's enough out of you, boy," Vernon's face was the colour of a ripe plum, and spittle went everywhere as he spoke. "Clean up, I'll deal with you later."
Harry retrieved a broom and mop and got to work, trying to ignore the other occupants.
"Terribly sorry about that," Uncle Vernon said, handing his wife and Mrs. Mason tissues. "That's my nephew, you see. Terribly disturbed boy, I always tell him how grateful he should be that we give him room and board, you know? Now, let's get you ladies cleaned up, and we'll get back to pudding. I do believe we have some ice cream in the freezer."
Mrs. Mason seemed to have calmed herself down when an owl swooped in, causing her to shriek again before hightailing it out of the house. Mr. Mason followed her out, but not before speaking heatedly, "She's deathly afraid of birds, you see. If this is your idea of a joke, I implore you to find a better sense of humour."
Harry paled, first at the look on the Dursleys' faces, then, at the sight of the owl, or rather, the letter clutched in its talons. The bird released the letter, flew off, and Uncle Vernon picked it up. The large man read the letter despite Harry's protests and gained a malicious look. He grinned at Harry triumphantly and brandished the parchment at him.
"Go on then, boy," Vernon sneered. "Read it then."
Harry took the letter from him, and despite his longing to receive any communication from the wizarding world, he knew this couldn't be good. He really hoped it was a late birthday wish from Alicia or Ron that had made it past Dobby.
It wasn't.
Dear Mr Potter,
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity which risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence, under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays!
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Harry looked at Vernon and gulped.
"When were you planning on telling us you weren't allowed to do magic outside school, boy?" Vernon grinned with a devilish glint in his beady little eyes. "I reckon you forgot – slipped your mind, eh, boy?"
He got up close to Harry, who could see the little pieces of chicken in Vernon's teeth. That would've been a rather nauseating sight if he wasn't scared out of his mind.
"Guess what, boy? You won't be going back to that school of yours. I'm going to lock you in your room till September passes – and if you magic yourself out, well, they'll expel you anyway. Isn't that poetic?"
Vernon didn't let Harry get a word in, dragging the boy by the arm and throwing him into his room. Harry fell to the floor next to his desk, and the door locked behind him with a click.
He pulled himself to his feet and promptly collapsed into his chair. He was royally screwed. There was no way he'd get back to Hogwarts now.
At least his friends hadn't abandoned him.
Where he once felt anger and betrayal was only guilt. Why hadn't he considered an outside influence? Why had he assumed they'd left him out to dry?
So much for silver linings.
Harry collapsed into his bed and screamed into his pillow. Weirdly enough, something inside poked him in the face. He stuffed his hand inside the pillowcase and felt parchment. Heart beating faster, he pulled out a stack of envelopes. He recognised Alicia's loopy penmanship, Ron's untidy scrawl, Katie's tidy yet slightly shaky writing, and Hermione's uniform script.
He held the letters with shaky hands. He picked one off the top of the pile.
Hey Harry,
How's your summer been so far? I hope you haven't been brooding too much over the Quirrell business. Remember, it WASN'T YOUR FAULT.
Don't forget that. If you spend the sunshine sulking in your room and feeling bad for yourself, I will make you regret it when you get back to Hogwarts. You better have some great stories for me, especially if you won't be able to see the rest of us over the break.
I miss you, Angie, and Katie terribly. I found myself in a quiet moment even missing the twins' chaos. It's still pretty insane that we're going to be the reigning champs next year. Has that set in for you? Mum and Dad were so proud when I told them. They have the picture of the team holding the trophy enlarged and hung on the mantle in the living room. It's a little embarrassing whenever we have guests but at the same time it's kind of incredible.
Harry grinned. His copy of that picture was secured safely in his trunk, in the photobook Hagrid gave him. He'd found that the last few pages of the book were empty, with only a note.
For future memories, it read in Hagrid's large, blocky scrawl.
That picture was the first memory he'd collected.
I know this is a short letter but I'm going to an aunt's house for my cousin's birthday. She's turning ten and is already a little monster. I'm not looking forward to when she comes to Hogwarts two years from now. I would love to write more but I really must get ready.
Awaiting your response,
Your favourite chaser.
Harry sniffled and carefully folded the parchment. The next letter he opened was from Ron.
Hey Harry, how's summer been? Mum has been a straight terror around the house, making us do all the chores now that we're home. Fred and George keep trying to convince me and Ginny to eat their prank sweets. Ginny's my little sister, she's starting at Hogwarts this year. Percy's been acting pretty weird, always locked up in his room doing Merlin knows what. The Cannons might make playoffs this year. I'm super excited. Their new keeper might just help us win the championship. We might be back, Harry! Hermione's already badgering me about homework. Is she doing that with you, too? Anyway, let me know if your relatives will let you come over sometime. Fred and George also said it would be fun to go flying together. Don't let the muggles get you down, mate.
Ron
Harry laughed wetly before moving on to the next letter. This one was from Katie, dated to the middle of July.
To Green Lightning,
Hehe.
Hi Harry! How's your summer been so far? Do anything cool? Dad took me camping in the Forest of Dean and guess who I ran into?
Attached to the letter was a muggle photograph of Katie and Hermione grinning in muggle clothes surrounded by trees. Harry looked at the letter enviously before propping it up on his nightstand.
We ended up setting up tents next to each other. I taught Hermione how to make smores, but I don't think her parents were too happy about it. Have you had smores before? It's my favourite dessert. It's delicious. We should see if the elves in the kitchen will make us some when we're back at Hogwarts.
Dad also showed them some of the magical creatures in the Forest. It was cool watching muggles meet a bowtruckle for the first time. One snuck into Hermione's hair and wouldn't leave. I think Hermione has a pet bowtruckle now.
Hermione mentioned that you haven't responded to her or Ron's letters, though she's pretty sure you received them. Is everything okay? Did you two fight? She's not being forthcoming, which leads me to believe something happened. Or perhaps you're just busy. Do respond to her when you get the chance. She's getting worked up over what I'm sure is nothing.
I haven't seen the girls yet this break, and obviously, we haven't had the chance to meet either. We should plan something soon. I know you said you wouldn't be able to meet up over the summer but maybe you could convince your relatives? Pleeeeeeaaase?
Until the next letter,
Katie.
Harry groaned and punched his pillow. He felt so maddeningly helpless. How he wished he could just reply, but he looked at Hedwig still in her cage. She was the only one who understood just how trapped he felt. He wanted to kick, scream, or break something, but it was so late in the night that he didn't want to wake the Dursleys.
Sleep-deprived Vernon tended to get violent.
The next letter was dated for the third of July, less than a week since Hogwarts let out. Hermione's name was scrawled on the front.
Dear Harry,
How have you been? After meeting your relatives, I can see why you don't like them that much. Mum was rather concerned and was asking about you. I do hope you're doing all right. Mum said you could come to visit sometime. Let me know if that's something you'd enjoy.
I miss Hogwarts terribly. I never thought I'd miss the suits of armour and the ghosts or even Peeves. Can you believe that? That I miss Peeves? I wonder if you feel the same.
Though I'm enjoying being back with my parents. Mum and Dad took a couple days off work to spend time with me. They weren't happy when they found out about all the sweets I ate. Don't worry, I didn't tell them you were my supplier.
I've already started our summer homework and hope to be done by the end of the week. What about you? Are you also planning on leaving it to the end, as I'm sure Ron will be? I hope not. Don't forget that you also have your exams coming up. The third of August will be here before you realise. Make sure you stay prepared. You'll do well on your exams. I believe in you!
My family is going camping soon, and I'm ever so excited. I haven't been in so long and I'm rather looking forward to it. Have you ever been camping? Imagine going camping with Ron, I think the three of us would tear each other to shreds. Ron would probably abandon us for the nearest café the moment he got hungry.
Well, I feel a little bad that I'm talking all about myself. How are you doing with your studies? Have you done anything interesting this summer?
I don't really have a lot of practice corresponding with friends. I hope I'm doing this right.
Either way, I hope you can visit soon. I'll be missing you and Ron and counting down the days till September!
Love,
Hermione Granger.
Harry felt a small ball of hope grow within him. He'd completely forgotten that his teachers were coming to proctor his exams. He was sure he would fail all of them since he hadn't gotten a lick of studying done. But perhaps they would help him out if they found out the Dursleys were preventing him from reaching Hogwarts. Especially because one of the professors coming was Flitwick.
He could last three days. The hopelessness and self-pity were now replaced by fierce determination. With higher spirits, Harry picked out the next letter. There was no name on the envelope, and the address was written in an unfamiliar handwriting.
Harry Potter,
It has come to my attention, courtesy of my protégé Albus Dumbledore, that you are a Sentiomagus like myself. But first I must apologise and thank you. Because of my invention, you were put into a life-threatening situation and injured. For that, you have my sincerest apologies. I never expected that the Dark Lord would attempt to retrieve the stone. Such was an oversight on my part. In that vein, I must also thank you for preventing his return. I could not have lived with myself if I had contributed to his return, and to the dark times that would have inevitably followed.
Now, on the topic of our shared ability. I would like to meet with you, and potentially teach you how to harness some of the facets of your talents. I was sought out by the Light Mother and was even her Chosen for a time, but I relinquished her banner to pass down to the next generation. Though I am without her talents, I still have many teachings left to impart.
Now that the stone is set to be destroyed, I find myself living on borrowed time. I have enough elixir left to last myself and my wife Perenelle the next three years. That might seem like a long time, but if there is one thing I have learned from living 500 years, it is that time can pass in the blink of an eye. I have much to teach you, so I expect a prompt response so we may begin as soon as possible.
May the Divine Light Guide You,
Nicholas Flamel
Harry had completely forgotten about what Professor Dumbledore told him about Nicholas Flamel. Excitement built within him at the thought of learning from a five-hundred-year-old wizard.
He was curious as to what he'd learn. Perhaps there was more to Sensomagy than he already knew? Or was he about to learn a different branch of ancient magic entirely?
There was only one way to find out. All he needed was to wait three days. Seventy-two hours that he was sure would feel like an eternity.
A/N: My bad gang I'm still alive...
Yeah I've been totally out of it these past few weeks, writing wise. Terrible, terrible case of writing block. But hey! We're back.
Shoutout that the few readers of mine that I encountered on r/HPFanfiction. Especially the guy that asked me about the next update on Reddit. That was a new experience for me lol
Still, I'm realizing that my readers are lowkey spoiled. I mean, we started with two chapters a week, and now I'm usually going for one chapter a week. Meanwhile, there's one lightningbell fic where I've been waiting for an update since September (istg if that story turns out to be abandoned I will tilt)
Anyways, Happy New Year Everyone! Here's to many more updates and much more Dynasty in 2025!