A/N: I regret to inform those that are reading this, that my previous piece Harry Potter and the Rings, will no longer be continued. Not because of any readers or other outside influences, but because of my own personally conflict with the story. I have found too many errors within the plotline itself, rather than the actually story. There are several gaps and holes that cannot be answered or fulfilled within a few chapters. Without realizing it, I had trimmed or started something within the story, but never fully explained it. I want to thank the readers who point out to me my none compliance with the expansion of the sub-plots.
Another problem was that I was unable to continue writing. I could not bring myself to write another sentence at this point in time. The plot is still there, so is the characters; it just is that I can't write any further at this point. To be a good author is to continue the story without a cave in of flow. Writer's blocks are different, those I can handle. There just seems like there is too much no being addressed, without those things being address I can not continue the story as well as could, and I can't find any way to include that in the story at this point.
This story will continue the basic concepts of my previous story, but there will be major changes within. For starters, there will be no Midnight, but there will be Dumbledore's son.
That is all I've got to say about the story at this point. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
Chapter One:
Thought to Be All Alone
"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." Sherlock Holmes.
Harry sat on his bed, trying to put down his dark memories. In the distance he heard his uncle's yells, but they did not register in his mind. Despite being at Number Four Pivet Drive for about two weeks, Harry had done little besides sit and stare out the window of his room. He had used the facilities, but had not bothered to leave his room beyond that.
With Mad-Eye Moody and Moony, as well as countless other Aurors, watching over the house, Harry no longer had to worry about malnutrition from his relatives. But deep in his mind, Harry knew the only reason any of them were watching over him was so he could survive to fulfill. They would only come when Harry was abused in some way by his relatives. He figured anything he did himself would go unnoticed.
Nothing physical, more or less psychological. If the memories Harry kept experiencing were not running through his head, he would have laughed at his disturbingly Hermione-like analytical thoughts. But the memories brought more turmoil than anything.
Two years ago, he had seen a new friend killed by Lord Voldemort; Two years ago, he saw the rebirth of Lord Voldemort; Two years ago, he had seen the "ghosts" of his parents. One year ago, he had believed himself to be going insane; one year ago, he had watched the attack on his best friend's father; one year ago, he had lost his godfather, his father figure, his mentor, his friend. Bellatrix Lestrange had killed his godfather, Sirius Black. Voldemort had killed a new friend Cedric Diggory. And now, both were killing even more.
There were some nights that Harry didn't even both to sleep. The dreams were too real. Too horrible to even imagine. He knew he was seeing everything from Voldemort's perspective, but why did the bastard have to be where ever the murders occurred? And the only way to stop him from entering his mind was to practice Occulimency, but he could not do that because the Ministry was guarding him like a hawk.
He was left to nothing more than staring to stopping the dreams. Harry found no solace in anything anymore. Memories of Cedric's death resurfaced and floated in his mind along with Sirius'. And they never went away. Not even when he dreamt whatever Voldemort saw. They were still there.
Staring out of his window, Harry turned the small mirror Sirius was going to give him in his hands. He had constantly tried to contact Sirius from the other side of the veil. And constantly he failed. He wouldn't give up, he need Sirius right now. He needed his parents. He needed someone. Someone to love him. . .
Looking out the window once more, Harry stood from his bed and moved toward the door. He stopped to stare at his picture in the mirror. Where once stood a boy now stood a man. Neither really knew love. Taking one last look into despair, he shuffled out the door and to the bathroom.
Days went slowly in the household at least they did for Harry. He had gotten to the point where, when a memory ended and a new one began, that was where the day began. He lost track of the number of days he had spent in his stupor, when in reality, no more than two weeks had gone by. But between days, Harry began to contemplate his life, specifically the people in it.
He was not going to let any thing happen to his family. His family was the most important thing in the world to him. And come hell or high water, they were going to be safe. Ron, the rest of the Weasleys, Tonks, Remus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and . . . Hermione.
His heart gave a soft flutter to this. It had done it several time over the summer already. But as quickly as it came, it was gone. It those moments, between dreaming and sleeping, he felt happiness. Pure unadulterated happiness. But because he did not sleep anymore, he had not felt anything like it since the start of summer.
"Can't have none of that now can we?" And just like every other time when he felt something remote to happiness, HE showed up and HE sent the dreams. As the painful sleep overcame him, Harry fell onto his bed, cursing HIM.
* * * * *
"Wonderful isn't?" Voldemort voice crackled through the air. Harry spun around, surveying the scene before him.
Death was on the air. Tall fences were, at the top, wrapped in barb wire. Gangly men slowly shuffled their feet past two men, hanging by ropes and swaying in the wind. Darkened clouds covered the place. Concrete building line up in rows and the stench of death and excrements covered the land. Towers with men at them, holding guns stood watching the men file past the dead bodies. Making the mistake of taking a deep breath, Harry found himself in a coughing fit from the ash in the air.
"A wonderful morning for a history lesson," Voldemort spoke loudly. None of the men walking past them even lifted their heads. The eyes Harry could see were dead and the skin hung off the bodies of many of them.
"Where are we?" Harry coughed once more, the ash beginning to burn his eyes.
"A pensive, Potter," Voldemort laughed. Harry shuddered once as the burning of his scar added to the pain he already was in. "Can't take the pain?"
"Where are we?" Harry asked once more, this time on the ground from the pain.
"We are to watch an execution," Voldemort said malevolency. Harry felt a new pain tug at his heart. Starring up at the two men daggling from the wooden bar, tears of sorrow replaced the ones of pain. Sirius and Cedric hung from their necks, lifeless looks in their eyes.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head into his hands.
"Oh, it gets betters," Voldemort laughed, grabbing onto Harry's head and forcing him to look upwards.
"No, God, please no," Harry whispered, the tears falling freely now. He watched as two men in grey uniforms lead a brown-haired woman up the steps. Once at the top, he could only watch, fear and sorrow paralyzed him, as the noose was placed around her neck. "Hermione!" He screamed, trying to push his way through a newly formed crowd. Voldemort's evil laugh filled the air. "God please, no," he yelled, shoving his way past the impenetrable crowd.
"Harry?" Hermione's head looked up as she was pushed forward. "Wake up Harry?"
"Hermione, no I can't lose you too!" Harry yelled over Voldemorts laughter.
"Wake up Harry," her face stared directly at him as a man pulled a lever. The floor beneath her dropped. "WAKE UP!"
* * * * *
"WAKE UP!" Harry's eyes snapped open and his hand went to his burning scar. He opened his eyes slowly to see his aunt standing over him, her arms on his shoulder. "Harry, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," whispered Harry. Tears were rolling freely down his face. She gave him a skeptical look before releasing him. "I'll be fine. Really I'll be fine."
"Alright, Harry," his aunt said, taking a step away from his bed. "You come down when you feel like it for dinner." Harry nodded once, before turning to face the window once more. He vaguely heard a window opening and a quill scratching, but dismissed it as quickly as the thoughts came again.
"Don't think you getting away that easily," Voldemort's voice called once more.
"Don't bet on it," Harry mumbled. Sending the purest thought he had through the link, he could feel the screams ripple through his scar. Smiling to himself, Harry laid back to the bed, knowing he had hurt the man that had tortured his soul for better portion of his life. The biggest problem was that he really did not know how he did it or why he had sent a memory of Hermione hugging him after he had come out of the Chamber of Secrets?
* * * * *
Harry awoke for the first peaceful sleep he had in weeks. No nightmares, no pain, no sorrow, only bliss. A smile on his face faded before the sun rose as he remembered the nightmare he had from the previous night. Sitting up swiftly, Harry looked over to his open window and Hedwig perched calmly on her perch. Fixing his glasses, he noticed the note attached to the sleeping owl's leg.
Harry made his way over to the snow white owl. Carefully removed the letter attached to her, Harry softly petted her as he read the letter.
Dear Harry
I have been informed, by a source that wished to remain anonymous, that you have had several dreams concerning Voldemort. I must urge you to owl me once more when another occurs and I ask you now to owl me about your summer to this point.
We all feel his loss Harry, and there will be a memorial service for Sirius within the next few weeks. I will owl you once more about more information.
If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts
Harry sat back on his bed for a moment or two after reading the letter. How did Dumbledore know about his problems? Should he write anything to him?
"No, you can't trust him," a weak voice said from the back of his mind. Despite how weak it sounded, Harry just held a knowing smile on his face. His mind relaxed slightly and repeated the same process it had the previous night, sending another memory toward the owner of the voice.
"Let him deal with pain for a short while," Harry chuckled lightly as he reread the parchment. He still had no idea how he hurt the bastard, but a joy came to him every time he did so. Maybe it was because he had hurt him, or maybe, and Harry hoped it was this, that it was because of the slight jump in his heart every time the memories resurfaced.
Harry sat looking over a Hedwig for a moment. Even more question had run through his head than the moment before. Who had sent her to Dumbledore? When was she gone? What others were sent? The quick tapping upon his door raised him from his stupor.
"Harry?" His aunt asked, knocking softly once more. "Are you awake?"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said still looking out the window.
"You seem to be doing better," she said as she walked into the room. "Oh, good, your owl is back." Harry looked back at her, shocked slightly.
"You used her?" He asked, looking between Hedwig and his aunt. She nodded once before sitting on the bed neck to him.
"Yes," she said guilty. "For the last few years, I've heard your scream several names in you sleep, Harry. Last year ago, it was that boy named Cedric, this year it was you godfather, Sirius." Harry felt his face go white. He knew he talked in his sleep, but assumed that it was not loud enough for any one else to hear it. "And then last night, there was that young girl's name. . ." She seemed to be stumbling for the name.
"Hermione," Harry whispered softly. His aunt nodded once more. "It was just so real last night. And the pain. . ." His voice trailed off as he looked out the window.
"I know I haven't been a great aunt to you, or relative at all," she said, looking out the window as well. "But if you ever have anything you want to talk about, anything at all, you can ask me, and I'll answer as honestly as possible."
"Thank you," Harry said, turning to smile at her. "I would like to ask you something?" She nodded her head in approval. "Why now, why now after all these years?"
"Because I've come to realize that I can't treat you the way I do because of my sister." She looked dejectedly down at the floor. "You are not my sister, and no matter how much I may hate her, I still love her, and I can't help but love you as well. Even you uncle loves, in his own way." Harry felt his jaw drop several feet at this. "We're all afraid of you Harry, and there are no apologies for what we put you through. I just wanted you to know, I'll make a better effort to make you feel loved." She stood up at this and turned to leave.
"Why?" Harry asked, looking at the window once more. "Why did you change?"
"Because a saw a bit of my father in you Harry," Aunt Petunia said with a small smile. "More than I'd ever like to admit. And because of the same reasons I love my father, I can't help but find the good in you." Harry let a small smile grow on his face. "You don't know about them do you?" He shook his head. "Well, I'll find an album for you to look at tomorrow." With that, she left him, closing the door behind her.
Harry turned to look out the window once more, finding a larger smile growing on his face. Not because of what Aunt Petunia said, but because of what he possible could gain: knowledge of his family. He turned once to look at Hedwig, who still was sleeping peacefully on her perch. He sat quietly staring out the window once more, like he had so often before, but this time, however, he wore a smile, not a large one, like when he saw Hermione or Ron, but a smile nonetheless.
He stood up and walked over to his desk, grabbing a piece of parchment and pen before sitting down. Slowly, he let his thoughts and feelings flow onto the paper:
Dear Professor,
I want to thank you for the letter. I also wish to apologize for the outburst at the end of last year. Although I had every right, I still feel guilty because of it. I also want to thank you for finally telling me, why Tom wants to get rid of me.
I am writing to tell you about the dreams I've been having this summer. They all have been focus around one theme, which almost seems like the theme of my life. Death; death has become the one constant in my life, and I can't take it any more. Too many people have died because of me, too many people have lost loved once because of me; too many people don't know love because of me. Even my future is tarnished by death. I can't escape it. And a part of me doesn't want to.
I don't want anyone else to bear this cross that I have. You have told me it was something like a great weight that lies upon my shoulders, and I have to agree with you. I feel older than I should, and I know I've missed out on a childhood, but I feel better knowing that I can stop others from going through the same thing.
I need to continue Occulmency. Tom has been attacking my mind, and I haven't sleep well in the last two weeks. The dreams came back, and I stopped them once, but I don't know if I could do so again. I need to master Occulmency before the new achool year starts. I don't want anyone else to die because of my mistakes.
As I had said, Tom kept trying to attack me. Last night, I had the worst dream to date. Attached is group of his upcoming attacks, but that isn't what I wanted to talk about. My dream last night dealt with three deaths. I don't feel comfortable right now, writing it down. I need to talk to you in person. I just need to talk to someone.
Thank you for you kindness,
Harry Potter
He looked at the letter once more before rolling it up and tying it and the parchment with the list of attacks to Hedwig's leg. Sitting back upon his bed, Harry watched her fly out the window. His life began to grow emptier as the moments passed. But one thing he knew he was not going to do was let that bastard use him like he did in the previous years. Standing back up, he returned to his desk, removing several of his books. The only way he really knew to preoccupy his mind was either homework or Quidditch, and since the latter was prohibited and he was banned for life from it, homework was he only really option.
And slowly, he worked on his Potions homework for the majority of the day. His relatives did not bother him that day, with the acceptation of his aunt placing a sandwich on his bed for him, Harry was left alone. And he was content with this, this loneliness. Because unlike the one he felt from the summer before, this one, this loneliness felt shallow and . . .
While he searched for the words for his loneliness, a brown barn owl flew into the room, landing on Hedwig's perch. Looking up from his daze and his homework, Harry untied the letter from the owl's leg, which was held outward for Harry to remove the letter from. A large smile grew on his face as he recognized the handwriting.
Dear Harry,
I wanted you to know, my family's sympathy is with you. I told them about what happened to you, and even now, I can't stop the tears when I think of everything you've been through. You're too young to be through so much Harry, and too sweet and kind of a person to have these things happen to you.
Everyday, I wonder why you're still my friend, and why you want to put up with me, a bookwormish know-it-all. I know you'd tell me I'm not, but every day, you show me more kindness than any relatives other than my parents ever did. I guess I never thanked you for sticking up for me, or treating me like a normal person. Well, here it goes, thank you Harry, thank you for finding the girl behind the book.
Love always,
Hermione
Harry sat for a while, staring at the tear-stained letter. She, Hermione, had just thanked for doing what came naturally to him, being a friend to her and protecting her. When in reality, it should be him, thanking her for everything she has ever done to help him. From helping him with his homework to comforting him when he needed. Heck, he barely knew anything about her family, and yet she, he would guess, could name just about everything there was to know about his life, that could not be find in a book. And once again, a flutter flew into Harry's heart, but it turned and flew away before he could discern what it was.
The owl was long gone, and he still had not gotten a response from Dumbledore. Hedwig would not be back until the following morning and he would not be able to much more homework with Hermione's letter on his mind. Looking at the clock, and determining he was alone in the house, Harry carefully walked down the stairs to the kitchen.
No one was home at the moment, and a curt note was left upon the table for Harry. Basically, he had to make sure he did not blow up the house while they were out. They had gone to visit Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge. A woman, larger than his uncle or his cousin Dudley, that positively hated Harry. No reason other than he was Harry. But now was not the time to discern anymore of his relatives lives.
Fixing himself a small sandwich, Harry returned to the solitude of his room, find solace with those four walls. Looking back at the tear-stained letter, Harry rolled out the creases in it and placed it carefully next to his picture of his best friends, Hermione and Ron. Ronald Weasley was his other best friend, his first friend. And the Weasley's became his second family, his first consisting of Hermione, Ron and Hagrid.
Harry kept sneaking glances at the picture within the frame. A simple picture with just Harry and Ron on both sides of Hermione, largest smiles a boy could have. He couldn't help but smile as well. Although Ron at times was a prat at times, Harry would not change anything in the world about him, except possible his jealous. Ron could work on that. And Hermione, well, there was nothing he wished to change about her. She was everything he could hope for in a woman, and just hoped that he managed to find someone as special as her to become his wife. His heart fluttered once more before he returned toward his homework, trying to work out the finite uses of rosemary and the define love.
"Hello Harry." A comforting, familiar voice said. Harry almost fell off the chair as he quickly turned around. Dumbledore stood in an earth toned robe, and held a different look to his image than before. One of relief and. . . Once more Harry could not put his finger upon an emotion. But this emotion, however similar to the flutter in his heart. But it was not. The flutter brought more joy, more ecstatic happiness than the twinkle upon Dumbledore's eyes.
"Professor, what are you doing here?" Harry asked as Dumbledore sat down on upon Harry's bed, but not before looking around his room.
"I came because you asked me to," he said with the familiar twinkle upon his eye. "Ah, here comes Hedwig." Almost on queue, the snow white owl flew into Harry's room and landed gracefully upon her perch. Harry ran his fingers down her back as she slowly became rendered in a slumber. "What did you wish to talk to me about?" Dumbledore asked with a knowing twinkle behind his half-moon glasses.
"Well, sir, last night, I had one dream that I don't think I can handle another like," Harry said, not making eye-contact. "Voldemort, he worked his way into my mind once more. He told me we were watching a pensive. But I didn't know they could be changed, sir?" He looked up at Dumbledore at this point.
"They can, just like a mind can be made to forget, memories can change as well," Dumbledore said, staring at him with intense but kind blue eyes.
"Well, I was in this place surrounded by barb wire, had these concrete buildings, and men looked like they were skeletons," Harry said, closing his eyes at the coming memories. "The air was foul and burnt me, sir. I felt like I was, for lack of a better term, in Hell."
"You may as well been," Dumbledore said, sympathy shining behind the rims of his glasses. "You described to me, one of the lowest points in human, Muggle and Wizard, history. You were within the walls of a German concentration camp during World War Two. Why you were there-"
"He wanted to show me something," Harry interjected. "Two people were hung from this bar and a third was being hung as well." His face turned downward at this, and the tears slowly began to come as the memory returned, full force. "Cedric was the first one hanging, Sirius the second, and. . . and. . . and Hermione was being hung as I watched." He placed his hands and broke down into tears. He could not lose her as well, not after losing Sirius. A comforting hand was placed upon his shoulder.
"Harry, he is trying to get at you once more," Dumbledore said, making Harry look up. "You are a strong boy, stronger than you'll ever know. And this strength does not come for your body or your mind. But rather," he pointed at Harry's chest, "it comes from here. I've watched you grow up, here and at Hogwarts Harry. I know what your relatives have done to you and have made you do. And what surprises me the most is how you are able to see the best in people, even your enemies at times." Dumbledore began to chuckle at this. "And more than ever, the people you heart grows to know, are affected by you. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, by you Harry. The power to defeat Voldemort does not lie within a book, or a wand, but rather with your heart."
"Thank you, sir," Harry whispered, regaining his composure. "Why within my heart?"
"Because, it was your heart, marked the worst by his acts," Dumbledore said, grimly, but kept a small smile upon his face. "From the day you were born to this very day, Harry, you've proven that whatever he throws at you, your heart can withstand it. But now, more than ever, it seems that you need more than what a simple friend can offer."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking out the window once more.
"I mean you need to find that once person who means more to you than life itself, and cling to that person for dear life," Dumbledore said, as his eyes clouded over with memories. "Because Harry, before you know it, there is the chance they will be gone without ever knowing how you ever felt." Confused slightly by Dumbledore's words, Harry could only smile.
"Thank you sir, for talking with me," Harry said, turning back to the window.
"There is one more piece of unfinished business," Dumbledore said to Harry. He stood up and walked to the front of Harry's bed. "A little redecoration and a few more things."
At the wave of Dumbledore's wand, the room began to change. Not only increasing in size, the design became different as well. Now resembling closer to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry felt a sense of calming overcome him. He could only smile and be shocked as Dumbledore sat down in one of the comfortable chairs he had just created.
"Amazing," Harry whispered as Dumbledore chuckled.
"I wouldn't say that," the old man spoke, waving his wand once more. "I just happen to know more than you do." A small pitcher of pumpkin juice appeared on a table next to the chair. Two glasses appeared along with it. Pouring one glass, he handed it to Harry, who thanked him, and poured himself another. "We will be discussing several things before the night ends." Harry nodded once as Dumbledore began to talk again.
"A lot has changed in these two weeks, Harry," Dumbledore said, taking a drink from the glass before setting it down. "Voldemort has risen to power. And even as we speak, he has begun a raid upon Europe. He has been gaining momentum since the Ministry of Magic incident and within a few weeks, I believe he will commence an attack somewhere within southern Germany."
"How do you know that?"
"I have a connect working out some of his own relations down there at this time, keeping an eye on things." Harry could seem some pride and fear within Dumbledore's eyes but did not ask. "He will be returning shortly and you'll meet him, but he shares some of my secrets which you will learn in time." Harry groaned at this.
"Don't tell me there is another prophecy," Harry said, shaking his head. Dumbledore began to chuckle at this.
"No, not in so many words, but there are a few things we must wait to talk about," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. "But your training will be increased this year. On top of your regular DADA class, you will be training with me and the rest of the Order." Harry smiled at this, knowing he would finally be rightfully prepared for the journey ahead of him. "You also will continue your extracurricular training." Harry nodded his head understanding Dumbledore's words.
"Will you or Professor Snape be teaching me?" Harry asked.
"For the time being, I believe it will be Professor Snape," Dumbledore said. "But you should continue to clear your mind of all thoughts before going to bed. Especially now that Voldemort has been trying to enter your mind more frequently." Harry gave an understanding nod.
"Sir, what kind of training?" Harry asked.
"Well, you will be trained mainly in defensive strategies, as well as more advanced curses, hexes and charms," Dumbledore said, looking at him. "You also will be trained to become an Animagus." Harry's eyes lit up at this.
"You mean I get to be…" His voice trailed off at this point, the shock just too much. Dumbledore could only chuckle.
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. "But you will not be registered, for your own safety of course." Harry nodded. "But that means you can not abuse the privilege once you do learn, understand?" A stern look grew across Dumbledore's face, but a twinkle lay behind his glasses. "Now, the last thing I wish to go over with you is your access to the school library from your room. You should consider studying ahead this year, to prepare yourself for the training as well as Voldemort."
"Alright, sir," Harry said, looking toward the window once more. But unlike the previous part of the summer, he watched the sun slowly set, instead of just staring out at it. "I just want a normal life, sir, that's all I ever wanted. But after last year, I found out I could never have one, not as long as Voldemort was alive. I want everyone else to have a normal life too. But that can't happen. We both know why, and this year, I don't want him to take away from friends or my family." A hand was upon his shoulder once more.
"Harry, what happens will happen," Dumbledore said cryptically. "You can't save everyone, and sometimes, even the hero needs to be saved. You're not alone Harry. There are countless of us who will give our lives so yours will be safe."
"I don't want any one else to day because of me," he whispered, lowering his gaze.
"We wouldn't be dying because of you, we'd be dying for you," Dumbledore said. "In your second year, Harry, when you went into the Chamber of Secrets, you risked your life for a friend. Now it is our turn to do it for you." Harry looked back up at Dumbledore, a smile on the old man's face. "Well, I best be going." He said, clapping his hand upon Harry's shoulder. "I have to attend to some other things and you have a letter to write."
"I do?" Harry asked confoundedly.
"That is Miss Granger's letter sitting upon your desk, is it not?" Dumbledore chuckled. "And knowing her as well as you do, it would be best to owl her immediately." Harry couldn't help but laugh as well.
"Yes, sir," Harry laughed spinning in his chair. "But sir, how did you get here and how are you leaving?" The familiar pop of Apparation was heard as Harry turned around. All that was left was a small note on the floor. Picking it up, Harry only saw one word on it. "Read." He repeated. Turning back to his desk, he pulled another parchment out, beginning the long, but joyful and relieving process of writing to Hermione.
Dear Hermione
I can't thank you enough. For your letter, for your kindness, for being you. You said that you should be thanking me, when on the little planet we call Earth, it should be me thanking you. My life is worth living because of you. Your friendship, I've found, is the one constant in my life. Yes, Ron is my friend too, but his friendship wavers like a leaf in the wind. Yours stands as sturdy as the maple tree. No matter how rough it gets, or how hard it may be, you have always been there for me, Hermione, and for that I thank you.
I wanted to tell you something, something I've kept inside for too long, despite it being only a few weeks. When we returned from the Ministry, Dumbledore told me something that has been kept quiet since the day of my birth. I don't want to tell you in this letter, not afraid that it would be intercept, but rather I am afraid of what you would say when you hear about it. I need to see you in person to tell you this. Dumbledore told me there was going to be a memorial service for Sirius and I want you to come. It would mean a lot to me, and him too, if you would join me there. I haven't fully dealt with everything yet, and it would be nice to have a shoulder to cry on then.
Sorry, I mean to sound whiny or needy. How was your vacation so far? After reading your letter, I figured out how little I know about you and how much I would love to know more about you. Please write to me again, tell me you'll come. I would love it if you did. I would also love it if you told me more about yourself. Maybe we can meet a day earlier and just talk. I would really like that, to talk to another human being before my birthday.
Eternally and forever
Harry
Smiling Harry read over his letter. `That should stop her tears,' he thought as he rolled it. Gently petting Hedwig, Harry tied the letter to her leg. She hooted once before flying out the window.
Harry could not help but smile as the bird slowly flew away. Dumbledore's words and Hermione proved his worst fear to be wrong. And for that, he welcome the next day in his life.