Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: I started this story before the sixth book came out, but was always a little shy on posting it anywhere, but once I finished the sixth book, I just had to get back to writing it. I have always been a Harry and Hermione fan, and I didn't take too well to the sixth book. Although it wasn't just because of the couples, I just didn't think it was that good. And as for everybody else who thinks I'm crazy for not going with the book, so be it.
My imaginative and creative self has gotten me this far in life and I'm not about to let it stop now. Harry and Hermione will forever be the only way to go.
P.S.: anyone wanna be my beta?
Harry Potter and the Key of Serendipity
Chapter One- An Unexpected Hand
I haven't been back for a week and I've already been 'Harry Hunted.'
It wasn't uncommon for Harry to be the subject of attack in the small suburbia of Little Whinging. Even though it was a well-known fact that for the past several years, Harry supposedly spent the majority of his time at St Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, fear of him seemed to have diminished.
The sound of the left side of his face coming in harsh contact with the brick wall resounded through his head. His glasses had slipped off the bridge of his nose, hitting the pavement and breaking into two.
Once he no longer heard the several pairs of fading footsteps he lifted his head out of his hands. Great, just bloody great. How am I supposed to return safely back to the Dursleys' if I can't bloody well see where the hell I'm going. Although, maybe it would be best not to return to the small suburban house, once Aunt Petunia saw him covered in blood she was sure to have a fit at the possibility of him getting her newly retiled kitchen floor dirty.
Harry had spent most of his time since returning from Hogwarts, nearly five days ago, up in his room. Harry had found the only way to keep his mind from replaying the horrible events that had occurred at the Department of Mysteries, was to do homework. So that's what he did, and to his surprise (and probably Hermione's) he was nearly finished.
So upon deciding to take a much-needed break before starting his dreaded Potions essay for Snape, Harry took a venture outside number four Privet Drive for the first time since returning to his so-called home.
And so now, here he was, being 'Harry Hunted'.
Once again hearing footsteps nearing his way, Harry dunked down and covered his head with his arms, desperately wanting to make himself as small as possible. It was times like this he wished he had his father's old invisibility cloak draped over him, invisible to the normal eye.
The single pair of feet came to a halt right in front of him. Carefully he lifted his head and looked up at the form towering above him. His eyesight was rather weak without glasses, but he didn't need them to recognize who it was. "What do you want? Come to finish the job your little goons started?"
"Get up, Potter." When Harry refused, he felt himself being yanked up by his cousin and cringed at the pain of Dudley's grasp around his left arm, which too, had been shoved into the brick wall.
"Let go of me or I'll hex you!" Harry yelled, knowingly full well that Dudley knew he wasn't aloud to use magic.
"Shove it, Potter. We both know you're not aloud to use magic."
After a profuse amount of struggle, Harry finally succumbed to the realization that he was not going to make his way out of Dudley's deadly grip. Within minutes he found himself being told to sit down in one of the chairs that surrounded the kitchen table.
"Can't you ever keep yourself out of trouble?" Aunt Petunia snapped at him, all the while continuing to clean the wound on the side of his face and moved onto cleaning the deep cut on his left arm.
"I was minding my own business, it's not my fault I seem to be the bloody target of several people these days!" Harry angrily retorted, but was somewhat taken back by the look he received from Aunt Petunia. Instead of looking even angrier, her features seemed to soften, as if she was worried.
Without making a comment, Aunt Petunia finished and sent Harry off to his room to clean himself up before Vernon came home.
Later on in the early evening, Harry sat at his desk, desperately trying to keep his mind on the matter at hand, his Potions essay Professor Snape had assigned on Acromantula Venom. He sighed and shoved his quill into the almost empty bottle of ink. As oddly as it might sound he couldn't seem to concentrate without Hermione hovering over him, correcting his mistakes or reminding him that he needed to get it done.
And as if that was the only thing on his mind. The look he had received from Aunt Petunia caught him off guard quite a bit. She never, ever showed any kind of emotion toward her sister's orphaned son.
And then there was Sirius…
It was his fault.
No matter how many times he was told differently, it was his fault. He lost Sirius, the only father figure he had ever had. If he wouldn't have been so gullible and let Voldemort manipulate him, Sirius wouldn't have died. If he would have just tried harder at Occulemency, he could have blocked Voldemort from his mind and he would have never gone and dragged five other fellow Hogwarts students with him to the Department of Mysterious.
He almost lost Hermione, one of the few people in the world who knew him for him. She was the only constant in his life. She never got jealous of his so called 'fame' or for the fact that he had loads of galleons sitting in a bank vault just waiting to be used. She was his friend, his best friend, and he had almost lost her.
Hearing the sudden, constant tapping on his window, Harry gladly diverted his attention from his thoughts, to Hedwig, who eagerly awaited him to open up his window.
Once open, the snowy white owl swooped into the room and landed softly on the wooden desk. Untying the letter from Hedwig's leg, he found once again it was from Hermione. Harry had received at least a dozen letters alone, just from Hermione and had yet to reply to any.
He knew she just wanted him to talk about the events of fifth year, but he wasn't ready. As always though, Harry opened the letter, not intending to reply.
Harry,
I really wish you would write back, I'm really starting to worry about you. You don't have to talk about 'things' if you're not ready to, but eventually you are going to have to.
I'm going to continue to write and tell you about my summer even if you won't write me back.
It's been less than a week and I'm almost half way done with my summer homework. You probably haven't even started yet. But please, please don't wait until the last minute, Harry!
Harry couldn't help but let a small smile invade his features, for once; he was ahead of Hermione on summer homework. He couldn't help but wonder if she would be proud of him, or jealous. No, Hermione would be proud of him, she didn't get jealous over stupid things like that.
I'm already missing you, Harry. I've been in contact with Professor Dumbledore, and he hasn't told me when you will be able to leave that dreaded place. I hope it will be soon! Ginny is coming over for the week and I am planning on showing her the 'muggle' ways of London. You know, shopping and other girl stuff. And did you know Luna Lovegood lives quite close to the Weasleys'? Apparently Ron isn't too happy.
No, Ron most definitely wouldn't be happy about living close to Luna Lovegood.
Fudge just got fired (no surprise there), the ministry has already decided on someone to fill the spot. Although the public doesn't know who, yet.
Anyway, my parents and I are going to pick Ginny up at the Burrow. So…I guess I'll talk to you soon?
Love, forever and always,
Hermione.
Harry was relieved upon finishing his letter from Hermione; she was going to stop pestering him, for now, anyway.
So Fudge was fired. Harry expected as much, since the truth finally came out about Voldemort's return, it was bound to happen at some point. A sudden thought struck him, had Percy returned home on his hands and knees, begging for his family's forgiveness? Or was he still acting like Fudge's bitch?
In Harry's opinion, Percy wasn't good enough to be a Weasley. He had betrayed and looked down upon his family after all they had done for him, after all they had done for the wizarding world. Percy didn't deserve parents like Arthur and Molly Weasley. And for Harry personally, it would take a lot more than a simple 'sorry.'
Harry opened his desk drawer and placed the piece of parchment in it, along with rest of the letters he head received (some opened, and some not).
~~
By the time Harry's emerald eyes fluttered open the next day, it was well into the morning. After stretching a bit he sat up, swinging his legs to one side of the bed and put on his taped-repaired glasses.
He noticed the time and thought it strange that Uncle Vernon hadn't yelled at him to get up. He was never, ever aloud to sleep in. After a putting on a pair of overly baggy jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt where the sleeves ended well below his elbows, Harry slowly began his descent down the stairs.
He came to sudden stop at the landing and took in his appearance through the small mirror that hang on the wall. Merlin, he thought. They certainly did a number on me. The top left side of his face was covered with small cuts that were beginning to scab over and several bruises; one rather large bruise surrounded his left eye.
He looked underneath the bandage on his left arm and grimaced, it looked ten times worse than his face.
"Boy, don't take it off, I'd rather not have blood all over the floor!"
Harry jumped slightly at his Aunt Petunia, "sorry," he mumbled.
"There's some breakfast for you in the kitchen, it's probably cold by now. But that's what you get for waking up late." Harry nodded, and went for the kitchen when his aunt spoke again, "you can reheat it, but hurry up! We've got work to do today."
Harry frowned, we? Since when did he get any help with his chores? Pushing through the swing door that led to the kitchen, he found the plate of pancakes and bacon sitting at the table.
Just as he finished his breakfast, he began to wash his dirty dishes when Aunt Petunia barged in.
"Leave it. Dudley's doing the dishes today, I've got plenty of other work for you to do."
Somberly, Harry sat the half clean plate into the sink and quietly followed his Aunt Petunia. All the while, thinking of several torturous scenarios in his mind of what kind of work she had in store for him today.
Harry sported a questionable look as they came to stop at the basement door. The basement? He was never, ever aloud in the basement. It was more forbidden for Harry to try and make his way into the basement, than it was for him to say something in reference to magic. The door was locked at all times, and the only key Harry knew of was kept by Aunt Petunia.
He hadn't even noticed Aunt Petunia open the door and begin her descent down the old wooden staircase until she yelled up at him.
"Get yourself down here, boy! We've got lots of cleaning to do, it's sure to take all day."
Absentmindedly, Harry made his way down into the basement. He was quite shocked to the see that the small confines of the basement was piled with boxes, some which looked to have not been touched for years and cobwebs clustered in the ceiling corners.
Aunt Petunia was not the one to let dust and cobwebs build up. Then again, Harry's aunt also wasn't one to show a softer side toward him, something she did yesterday.
Harry snapped out of his thoughts when Aunt Petunia started to speak, once again. "You're uncle Vernon and I have decided to turn this into a little work out room for your cousin. We have no doubt he'll defend his title this year, but this way, he can practice more."
Harry nodded as she continued on, "we need to have this clean by tonight, Dudley's equipment is being delivered tomorrow morning." She motioned to the smallest pile, where several boxes were sitting. They looked as if they had been sitting there almost as long as he had been alive. "You start over there, most of it's rubbish. You're welcome to keep anything you want."
After Petunia finished she turned her back and started on a separate area of the basement.
Harry walked slowly over to his restricted area and opened up the first box he came to, he coughed as a cloud of dust came his way. The heavy box revealed several old books. Hermione would love this, even if they were just muggle books. But upon taking a closer look, Harry realized they weren't muggle books at all, they were spell books and old pieces of parchment.
The first thing that caught Harry's eye was a thick stack of bound parchment, seemingly resembling a homemade book of some sorts. He cleared off some of the dust and read the cover:
107 Hilarious Ways to Hex your Worst Enemy and Get Away with it By, the Marauders.
Harry couldn't help but think how much Fred and George would love to have a go at some of the spells. He would definitely have to show them, after he read it, of course.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his Aunt Petunia's stare and hastily sat the heavy stack of parchment down and continued on through the boxes.
Harry continued on through the several boxes that happened to be full of books and other things his parents had left him. He had been so absorbed in his findings he didn't even realize lunch had passed and rest of the basement had been cleared out until he heard his aunt talking to him.
"I suppose you want all of that…that stuff?" Harry merely nodded. "Very well then, carry it all up to your room. And remember, you still have to mow the lawn."
As he watched the retreating form of his aunt, it finally hit him. She had kept this stuff for him! But why? "Aunt Petunia?"
She turned to him. He couldn't help but notice her normal thin-lined scowl had somewhat disappeared and was replaced with a somber frown. "Hurry up and take it up to your room, we don't want your Uncle Vernon seeing any of this."
"Aunt Petunia?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Petunia simply gave him a nod (if you could even call it that; it was more of a tiny twitch that caused her head to cast downward) and disappeared up the staircase.
Harry had never been so eager to read in his life (Hermione would definitely be proud). He had carried all the boxes up to his room, before running outside and mowing the lawn in what he thought for sure, was in record time.
Carefully, grabbing the thick stack of worn, bound parchment, Harry took a seat on his bed unmade bed that had several articles of clothing strewn about on it, and turned to the first page. He had to work hard to not laugh out loud at what he read:
A special thanks to Snivellus, who was always right around the corner whenever we needed him.
For the next several hours, Harry read through the (hilarious) hexes and couldn't help but imagine trying each and every one of them out on Draco Malfoy once returning to Hogwarts when the new term started on September first. He was currently engrossed in hex number 33: Jakas, making an ass out of yourself. A hex, where you simply repeat the incantation, 'jakas' and the target takes the shape of a jackass, or donkey, when he marked his place and decided to call it a night.
He didn't even care his stomach was demanding some nourishment, he was too eager for it to be tomorrow so he could continue on through the several belongings that once used to be held in his parents' hands.
As he changed into his over-sized pajamas, Harry made a mental note, to tell Ron about hex number five, 'The Wicked Wedge'. Once Harry had finally settled into a comfortable position beneath his covers, a rather loud rapping came at his bedroom door.
"Er---uh, who is it?"
"Just get off your arse and open the bloody door, Potter!"
Dudley? Harry left his bed and opened the bedroom door revealing none other than his cousin, holding a plate full of what Harry suspected to have been the evening's dinner. "Er, um, Dudley?"
"Here." The boy reluctantly shoved the plate into Harry's unsuspecting hands, "mum asked me to bring you up some dinner."
"When you say 'asked' you mean 'told'?"
Annoyance flashed through Dudley's eyes, "either eat it, or I will." Dudley hesitated, as if wanting to ask Harry something, but in the end, deciding against it and turned toward his own room.
"Dudley?"
He turned, "what?"
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me, thank mum, it wasn't my idea."
Harry shook his head, "no. I mean thanks for earlier."
Dudley seemed taken back by Harry's politeness, but quickly recovered, "yeah, well nobody has the right to pound your bloody face in except for me."
Harry could've sworn he saw a small smile on Dudley's face, but immediately shook the possibility from his head and went to bed.
~~
11:59… "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." 12:00.
It was now officially the weekend.
Harry sighed and turned away from the clock that sat on his nightstand. While most kids anticipated Saturday and Sunday, and considered them the two best days of the week; Harry absolutely dreaded the weekend.
All it meant for him: two whole days of Uncle Vernon. There was no 7:00 through 5:00 with just Aunt Petunia on his case; it was forty-eight hours of Vernon Dursley's constant badgering and ridicule.
It had been a week since Harry had 'helped' Aunt Petunia (nearly three since returning from Hogwarts…and Sirius' death) clean out the basement and he had spent most of his time going through the things. And He was down to one last box to go through, and he was excited yet disappointed for the discovery and learning of his parents' past.
He had received several more letters from his friends, namely Hermione (Ron seemed to have given up) and several members of the order, who were writing for their obligatory checkup on him.
He still had yet to respond.
With one last groan, Harry shoved his head under his only pillow and fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be woken up six hours later by the shrewd yells of his uncle.
"Boy, get up and carry my luggage down, now!"
Slightly confused, but awake, Harry forced his body into action and quickly dressed (not realizing they were the same clothes he wore yesterday). Within two minutes he had the three large pieces of luggage down the steps and sitting by the front door. But picked them up when once again, his Uncle yelled.
"Don't sit them there, take them out to the car!"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry complied with his Uncle's orders and took them out to the car.
When he returned to the house and walked into the kitchen, all three Dursleys' were occupied in their normal seats and Harry took his seat in between Petunia and Vernon. He was quite surprised to see his plate full of food, but didn't bother to ask aloud.
After a few minutes of silence, Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs and spoke the one thing that had been burning at his mind since waking up. "So where are you going, Uncle Vernon?" He tried to keep his voice as monotone as possible and show that he was the least bit excited about the prospect of going several days at number four Privet Drive without having to answer to Uncle Vernon.
"Business trip." He answered while his mouth was still full, his face started to turn slightly purple as he continued to glare at Harry, "I suspect you'll be gone when I return."
"That depends. When are you planning on returning?"
"Don't talk back to me, boy!"
"I was just asking a question!" Harry didn't care if he pissed Uncle Vernon off, knowing full well he would not have to take his wrath. Chances are he would probably be out of number four Privet Drive and wouldn't have to look at his ugly purple-boulder head until next summer.
"He'll be back August seventh. Now, I believe you have chores to be doing, so finish up quickly and get working." Aunt Petunia said to him as she refilled Vernon's plate with (what Harry suspected to be at least his fourth helping) bacon.
Rest of the meal went by in silence. Harry finished off his small portion of breakfast and left to began his long list of chores. Dudley and Petunia said their quick good-byes seeing as Uncle Vernon was running late (could it possibly be because he had a very long and big breakfast?).
Harry had been working for at least an hour outside in the front yard, mending to the ill cared for flowerbeds when Aunt Petunia stomped out. "Get inside and clean yourself off."
Harry looked up, trying to block the glaring sun from invading his sight, "but I haven't finished yet."
"You'll finish tomorrow."
"But…"
"Just do what I tell you and hurry up!" she snapped at him before turning on her heal and walking back inside.
Harry reluctantly stood and brushed the dirt off of him before following his aunt into the house, where she continued on with her orders, "take a shower and put on some…" she did a quick up and down glance at Harry's attire, "clean clothes."
"Why?"
"I need to do some shopping and we both know I can't leave you alone." She seemed thoroughly disgusted at the thought of being seen in public with someone of his…'kind.'
As Harry walked through the crowds of people (several steps behind his Aunt Petunia, as she had ordered him to do), he felt this odd normalcy sensation. He looked as if he was just another muggle teen, who was enjoying his summer vacation. Nobody gawked and trembled at him, and their eyes never glanced at his forehead, looking for the well-known lightning bolt-shaped scar.
He was just…Harry. Harry James Potter, an almost sixteen-year-old boy who was finally starting to look his age and was in a desperate need of a haircut (although not too short, he preferred to keep his scar covered up).
Things seemed to get more peculiar for Harry as the day went on. Aunt Petunia was being…nice?
It started when he was patiently waiting next to Aunt Petunia as she caught up on the latest gossip with Miss. Bradley, owner of a very fancy and expensive bakery (which Harry suspected to be the place where Aunt Petunia always picked up food that she later claimed to have baked herself). She looked at him and commented on how much of a gentleman he was being.
"Quite a boy you've raised there, Petunia. Waiting patiently and not bothering a soul." Her gray eyes twinkled towards Harry.
Harry snapped his head in the women's direction before turning to Aunt Petunia. She was giving him a glare that for a second seemed to resemble Professor McGonagall. It wasn't quite a threatening glare, more of a 'watch what you say, Potter' type glare.
So Harry gave the woman the best smile he could muster up, "thank you, ma'am." He could've sworn the woman returned his words with a wink.
Aunt Petunia grabbed her bag of goods, "yes, I suppose he does have the proper manners of a gentleman. Well we really must be going."
And then that's when she made the comment about his hair. She said it was just a little too long and could do with a bit of a trim. Aunt Petunia had already ushered Harry out the door before he had a chance to reply and they went on their way.
This time instead of walking behind his aunt, Harry stayed in stride with her, "I really do need a haircut, Aunt Petunia."
"And what? You expect me to pay for it?"
"I'll pay you back."
"And you have money how?" She glanced in his direction but continued on to their next destination.
"Well I don't exactly have muggle money, but I can exchange some galleons when I go to Gringotts and I'll send Hedwig back with it."
"I'd rather not have that bloody bird flying around sending me stuff." She snapped at him, "I suppose you should get a haircut though, I wouldn't want your friends thinking you aren't being taken care of."
His almond shaped eyes became the size of small grapes, "really? Thank you, Aunt Petunia. Hermione was always badgering me about it last year, she evened tried to…" Harry stopped mid sentence, realizing the best way to ruin his day would to mention magic "…anyway, she should be happy when she sees I finally got it trimmed."
Petunia seemed taken back by Harry's words. Not only was he being polite, but also she had never seen his eyes light up while in her presence. "Yes, well it does grow awfully fast."
And the day continued on like that. While Aunt Petunia had stopped to pick up some new clothes for Dudley (surprisingly, his were becoming too big), she had gotten Harry a couple articles of clothing too. Something Harry still hadn't been able to wrap his mind around. Aunt Petunia was treating him, well, like a human, like someone she was related to and like it was her job to look after his welfare (it actually was, but that never motivated her in the past). And then to top it all off, she bought him a much needed new pair of glasses.
By the time Sunday afternoon had rolled around, Harry had completely finished his summer homework and was desperate to get his mind off of Sirius.
He headed downstairs, planning on asking his Aunt Petunia to give him some chores (having finished those for the day, too) when he ran into Dudley who was heading towards his new workout area in the basement.
"Er…sorry." Harry tried to move past his cousin, but found himself blocked. "Excuse me, Dudley." But Dudley stood firm.
"I've never noticed how bony you are."
Harry wasn't in the mood for his cousin's self-amusing antics. "Really? What did you think would happen to me if there was no food left on the table after you had finished stuffing your bloody face full?"
Dudley seemed to let comment roll off his back, "you could use some muscle."
"What are you getting at, Dudley?"
"We should work out together. My trainer says it's better to work in partners and well, maybe when I'm not around to save your puny arse, you'll be able to watch your own back."
Harry's eyes narrowed, "why are you being nice to me?"
"You're my cousin, why shouldn't I?"
"Bollocks! You want something in return, am I right?" Dudley shrugged his shoulders and avoided eye contact with Harry. "Spit it out, Dudley."
"Well, here's the thing…I have to take summer school, I kind of failed some classes and…"
"You want me to tutor you?"
"Yes."
Harry mentally weighed his options, if he did this, he could certainly use it to his advantage. "Ok, I will." He stuck out his hand and Dudley enthusiastically shook it (practically breaking Harry's fingers in the process).