Author's Note: Well, it's been awhile since I last updated and I apologize. Being in college and now, with my new job, I don't have a lot of time for just recreational computer use. And I'll admit that I just don't feel like writing these days. But that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon the story. No, I've made a commitment and I'm sticking to it. Maybe I just need to have an all-day Harry Potter-a-thon and watch the movies again. Or start the series back over again, which would certainly beat reading Shakespeare. As always, my thanks go out to by beta, Nitya, and to those that have reviewed. I appreciate it.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE TELEPHONE CALL
Dudley did not return the next day, or the day after that. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia called the police with the hope that they would find their son, but wherever Dudley was hiding, it was a good enough place to stump the police. Harry had to hand it to his cousin-he didn't know the guy had it in him.
Aunt Petunia cried on a regular basis. She'd start wailing at a moment's notice. Harry even saw his uncle get a little teary eyed once. In order to escape his relatives' blubbering, Harry stayed in his room.
On the third day of Dudley's departure, when Harry walked into the kitchen to find something to eat, Vernon snapped at him.
"This is all your fault, Potter!"
Harry spun around and stared at his snarling uncle. "I beg your pardon?"
"If you hadn't gotten those cigarettes out of Dudley's pocket, he would have never left!" his uncle roared.
Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So I take it I won't be getting a 'thank you, Harry, for informing us that our son is slowly killing himself.' But, if I may be blunt, it is actually you who is to blame here. You tried to control him for once and he didn't like it. He's not used to discipline and when you finally let him have it, he rebels!"
Trembling in rage, Vernon backhanded him. "How dare you tell me how to raise my son, you son-of-a-bitch!"
Now it was Harry who was trembling in rage. He attempted to leave, to take the high road, but Vernon stopped him. "Where are you going, Potter?"
"To my room," Harry replied through gritted teeth.
"Oh no you don't. You're not going anywhere until I get my son back!" Vernon roared.
"And what do you expect me to do?" Harry demanded. "It's not my fault that he left!"
"Yes, it is!" Vernon growled, pinning Harry to the refrigerator with his big, beefy hand.
Just then, Aunt Petunia walked into the kitchen. She stopped and stared at her husband and nephew. "What's going on here?"
"He's the reason why our son is gone," Vernon snarled, his face so purple he looked like a plum.
"I am not," Harry mutter, wriggling free from his uncle's grip. "None of this is my fault. It's yours!"
Petunia turned sharply and glared at Harry angrily. "Get out of this kitchen," she said, "and don't come near us for the rest of the day, do you hear me?"
He scowled at her. "Yeah, I hear you," he muttered. Glowering at his aunt and uncle, he left the kitchen, stomped up the stairs, and walked into his room before slamming the door shut. So Uncle Vernon thought he could slap Harry, call his mother a bitch, and then claim that he was the reason why Dudley had run off? Harry would show him. He'd make sure his uncle paid. Grabbing a quill, ink bottle, and a piece of parchment, he sat down at his desk and started writing.
Dear Moody,
I checked in with Dumbledore a few days ago, if he hasn't told you yet. I know writing you lot more than once every few weeks is uncommon for me, but you said that if I ever had a problem with the Muggles I should write you straight away, right? Well, I'm having a big problem with the bloody Muggles. My cousin has run off and my uncle is blaming me for it. He's being abusive, both verbally and physically towards me, and I don't appreciate what he's been saying about my mother. Let it be known that I want out! Is there some place I can stay for the rest of the summer, or at least until I'm seventeen and allowed to be out on my own? Please respond to this as fast as you can. Thanks.
Harry
He rolled up the note quickly and turned to Hedwig, who was surprisingly awake. He suddenly felt guilty. Slamming the door had probably woken her up. He frowned and walked over to her cage.
"Hey girl. I'm sorry to do this to you, but will you please take this to Mad-Eye Moody? We've got to get out of here, or at least scare the living daylights out of these people. Please, Hedwig?"
She hooted dolefully and snatched the rolled up parchment with her talons. Harry ran over and opened the window to let her go. "Thanks, Hedwig!"
He stood there for a moment, watching her fly away. When she became a small white speck on the horizon, he frowned and sat down on his bed. "Three more weeks," he muttered to himself. "I have at least three more weeks left in this hellhole before I can leave." He looked on his desk, where sat a small wad of parchment containing a countdown sheet he had made the day he arrived back, to confirm that it was exactly two weeks and six days until he would become of age.
Sighing, he hauled out his Charms book and picked up where he left off the last time he attempted to read the book. The chapter was over nonverbal charms, which most of his classmates knew how to perform anyway. Many of them had already started working on using them, once they realized that they only needed to say the incantation in their mind. Harry had little difficulty with them.
Eventually, he got around to writing his essay for that class before shoving the book back into his trunk. He laid the essay out to dry. Then, with a groan, he grabbed his Potions book. But instead of doing the homework the professor he loathed most assigned, he laid on his bed and daydreamed.
He could see himself back at Hogwarts for his final year, soaring around the Quidditch pitch in his first match against Slytherin house. He could vividly see their emerald robes and also the scarlet ones of his Gryffindor teammates. He saw the Snitch and chased after it. When he snatched it out of the sky, he heard one voice cheering above all the others. He turned as he landed and caught the running form of Hermione in his arms, capturing her in a breathtaking kiss. She giggled against his mouth. He pulled back and smiled at her before raising his hand up high, holding the Snitch in triumph. Life couldn't be any better than that.
He then imagined that he was sitting in the common room, alone, as it approached midnight. The fire in the hearth was warm and cheerful. Suddenly, arms wrapped around him from behind and a soft kiss was placed on the back of his neck. He grinned. Slowly, he reached up and touched her hand, squeezing it gently, as he leaned back and looked up at her smiling face. It was odd seeing her upside down, but the flames flickering over her features made her mesmerizing. There was a twinkle in her eye as her lips descended down and met his. Butterflies were in his stomach as he reached up to caress her cheek, and just as he was about to graze his fingertips over her, she disappeared with a loud bang.
Harry sat bolt upright in bed, annoyed. When he looked over at the clock, to his shock he saw that it was 6:00 in the evening. Aunt Petunia was down in the kitchen, banging around for a pot. He grumbled and picked up his Potions book. He had better get to work on his homework.
Reading what was required was tedious, especially when he had his growling stomach as a distraction. He was barely a quarter of the way through his readings when he slammed the book closed, frustrated. He couldn't go downstairs and eat dinner or his uncle would probably try to kill him, and he couldn't pack his trunk and leave or Dumbledore and the Order would send him back. Voldemort was biding his time while Harry was expected to kill him. Neither Ron nor Hermione had written and he didn't trust himself to send a letter that wouldn't give too much information away. But to top it all off, Professor Snape, Harry's most loathed teacher, expected him to read 120 pages by the time he returned to Hogwarts.
Harry snorted. What a joke.
What he needed was a distraction, like a deck of cards or something. Sadly, Harry had never owned a pack of cards before, not even a pack of Exploding Snap cards. Ron was the one who owned the deck and it wasn't like Harry would just walk over to the Burrow and play a game.
Harry opened his trunk and dug around until he found what Ron had given to him for Christmas that past year, which was a special edition wizard's chess set involving Quidditch. The king was the Golden Snitch, while the queen was the Quaffle. Bludgers and Beaters' bats were the knights and bishops. Two goalposts acted as castles. Then the seven players plus the referee were the pawns. Harry found it to be quite funny, but the game required someone else to play it with him. Still though, he could try to outwit himself. That perhaps would be entertaining.
He set up the pieces. White played first. Thinking about how stupid he was being, he muttered, "Pawn to D-three." The pawn moved and then, to his great surprise, a black pawn moved. He stared at it. The game must have been able to tell that there wasn't anyone else playing. "Er-pawn to G-three." After this turn was done, black moved again.
And so they played. Harry actually found it rather difficult. Was that how Ron felt their first year when they went up against Professor McGonagall's giant chess set? It was possible, except that Ron was an expert when it came to chess, while Harry was just your ordinary player. Eventually, with a sigh of relief and a smirk, he ordered his knight into position and checkmated the king.
Just then, Hedwig soared in through his window. "Hey girl," he said, smiling as he walked over to stroke her head. "Did you find Moody alright?"
She gave him an annoyed look, as if it was the dumbest question he had ever asked. He chuckled. "Yeah, okay, I'm sorry-stupid question." He looked at her talons. "No reply back?" Hadn't he asked Moody to respond?
Hedwig hooted in what Harry took to be an apology.
"It's alright. I shouldn't have sent it to Moody. He probably doesn't care and considers me to be just a whining teenager," he said darkly. "Lupin would. I should have sent you to Lupin. But the Dursleys don't fear him as much." He snorted. "Well, maybe they would if I told them that he is a werewolf."
Suddenly, Harry heard the doorbell ring. Had the police finally found Dudley? He walked over to his door and opened it before tiptoeing to the top of the stairs to eavesdrop.
Aunt Petunia opened the door. "Hel-Dudley!" she cried, and then screamed.
Harry was halfway down the stairs when he heard a gravelly voice say, "Hello, Mrs. Dursley. I reckon you remember me."
Harry recognized that voice.
"Vernon!" Petunia squeaked, grabbing onto her terrified looking son and pulling him inside.
Harry reached the bottom of the stairs. "Good evening, Moody."
Mad-Eye Moody's dark, beady eye glanced at Harry and nodded in greeting. "Potter." His big round electric blue eye swiveled. "Drop that knife, Dursley!"
There was a clang in the kitchen and Uncle Vernon appeared, his face purple. "You," he said in a calm voice, but his eyes betrayed him. "You are not welcome here. Leave my home at once!"
"Well aren't you the ever gracious host," Moody replied back snidely, shaking some of his grizzled dark gray hair out of his face. "You won't even thank me for bringing your boy back?"
Vernon blinked and finally noticed Dudley. "Dudders? You're home?" He gaped at Moody. "How did you…where did you…"
"I found your nitwit of a son hiding in an alley near the park, watching a young picnicking couple," Moody said contemptuously. "As if your son couldn't stand to lose some weight."
"I'm hungry, Mum," Dudley whimpered, clinging to Aunt Petunia.
"Of course you are, Popkins," she said, trying to wrap her arms around her son.
"It was very stupid of him to take off like that," Moody continued, taking a step into the house with a clunk. "There's a war going on and You-Know-Who knows damn well who you people are. You're lucky one of his Death Eaters didn't find him and kill him. You're even luckier that Potter actually had the heart to write the Order about it or otherwise we wouldn't have known that he needed to be tracked down." He shot Harry a look that warned him not to speak.
Both Vernon and Petunia's eyes flashed towards Harry, who stood at the bottom of the stairs frowning. Moody took another step into the house (clunk) and then, with one eye staring menacingly at Petunia and the other one trained on Vernon, he growled, "So perhaps you ought to treat the boy better. He's a fine young man and doesn't deserve the hell you lot put him through."
Harry swelled with pride at Moody's praise.
"Treat him better," Moody repeated, "or we'll hear about it-and we'll deal with it." Uncle Vernon gulped. Aunt Petunia looked faint. "Now, I need to have a little word with Potter. Why don't you go continue dinner?"
The Dursleys scurried out of the room, leaving Harry and Moody alone. Moody stared at him with his beady eye. The other one was moving around in its socket, something that Harry was quite used to by now.
"Erm-thanks for coming," he said lamely. When Moody did not reply, Harry feigned a cough and asked, "So Dudley was in an alley?"
Moody nodded. "Watching a couple and mumbling something about somebody named Rhonda."
"Oh. His girlfriend." He looked up at Moody hopefully. "Shall I go get my things?"
Moody frowned. "You're not going anywhere, Potter. Didn't I make that clear enough?"
His face fell. "Sorry, but I was hoping, with the way that the Dursleys have been treating me, that maybe I could go live at headquarters for the rest of the summer."
"No."
Harry gritted his teeth. "But it's my house. I should be able to live in it if I want to! I could tell the Order to get the hell-"
"They're Dumbledore's orders, not mine," Moody growled, cutting Harry off, "and if you're wise, you'll heed them."
Harry sighed. "Fine. I'll stay. But if they-" He pointed off in the direction the Dursleys had left. "-do anything to me again, I'm gone and good luck finding me."
Moody scowled. "Don't try to talk big, Potter. And don't be stupid either. I know you know better. Threatening us won't get you your way either. Now grow up and take this like a man because, compared to You-Know-Who, this is nothing."
"I know that."
"Then act like you know it," Moody advised. He turned to leave. "We'll expect an owl from you in a few weeks. Got it?"
"Yeah," Harry murmured, feeling the hot burn of shame. "Sorry for dragging you out here."
He could tell that Moody's magical eye was trained on him. "Don't be." Then he walked out the door, the clunk noise slowly going away until Harry heard a faint crack!
Closing the front door, Harry frowned. Moody was right. He had been acting highly immature. Turning, he walked over to the kitchen doorway, where Dudley was lamenting to his parents.
"She just gave me this disgusted look and slammed the door in my face," he was saying. "What did I do wrong?"
"Oh, dear, she just wasn't your type," Petunia said, patting her son on the back.
"And she didn't really care about you at all," Harry piped in for a reason unknown to him. "She thought you were rich, like her. All she cared about was the money."
Uncle Vernon glared at him for intruding upon their family moment. "Why don't you leave us alone, Potter?"
Harry frowned. "Suit yourself," he said and left, going to his room to start working on his Potions homework again.
*****
Four days later found Harry in his room, idly reading his Herbology book. It was the new homework task he had undertaken, having finished his Potions homework the previous evening, long essay and all. If only Hermione were there; she would have been proud of him.
But truth be told, Harry was extremely bored. The Dursleys had once again gone back to ignoring him and Harry did nothing but spend time in his home, wasting away the pleasant summer days playing against the chess board, doing his homework and daydreaming.
Perhaps, just perhaps, he could go outside and enjoy the nice weather. The only times he ever went outside was to do chores for Aunt Petunia. Otherwise, he hadn't left the house. It would be nice to leave the Dursley household, even if it were only for a couple of hours. But he knew that the Order would not approve. They wanted him to stay inside, where it was safe, and he knew it.
He closed his Herbology book and looked outside. Since when had he ever done something that kept him safe?
Grinning to himself, he grabbed his wand and put it in his pocket before covering it with his shirt and leaving his room. He walked slowly and quietly down the stairs as not to disturb the Dursleys and when he reached the front door, he pulled it open and stepped out into freedom.
Well, as much freedom as he could get before going back.
He walked down the path and to the pavement, where he followed it to the corner. Little kids were out playing, women were working on their gardens, and men were watering their yards. He crossed the street and turned. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, he mused, although there was a slight breeze that rippled through his hair, scattering his unruly bangs, and uncovering his scar. Nobody stared at him as he walked down the pavement, like Aunt Petunia always feared they would. Harry was positively normal at the moment, besides wearing jeans with holes in them and rather dingy trainers.
He was almost to the park, lost in his own thoughts, when he suddenly ran right into somebody. Nice one, Potter.
"Sorry," he murmured and then got a good look at who he had run into. "Mrs. Figg?"
Arabella Figg, Harry's neighbor from a few blocks over who loved cats, was also a Squib and a member of the Order. She shook her head to clear it and peered up at Harry. "Oh, Harry, it's you! I was about to give you a good swinging at with my purse, but since it's you…"
"I'm terribly sorry about running into you," he said, reaching out and grabbed her arm to steady her when she swayed. "Are you okay?"
"What? Oh yes, I'll be fine. My, you've become quite the sturdy young man, haven't you?"
He chuckled. "Most people consider me pretty skinny."
"Yes, well, perhaps I'm getting a bit frail in my old age," she said, standing up straighter. "So, how have you been? You haven't visited me all summer."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I've been keeping to myself, really. I've spent most of my time avoiding the Dursleys and the best way to do that is to stay in my room," he told her.
"You've been cooped up in your bedroom? It's a wonder that you haven't gone mad! But still, I'm not quite sure you should be out like this, with a war going on and all. We may have people dropping by your house every week to make sure there aren't any Death Eaters snooping around, but that doesn't mean they don't go there on the days we aren't!" she said.
"The Order's been checking in on me every week?" he asked.
"Of course! Dumbledore's top priority is that you're safe. Tell me, do you have your wand with you, Harry?" she asked.
"Yeah, of course I do."
"Good boy. You keep that thing on you at all times, you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She nodded. "While I know you must be thrilled to be out of the Dursley household, you really ought to be heading back. You got your fresh air, now go back and live safely."
"What Order members drop by the house?"
She sighed. "Oh, I don't know…Mundungus Fletcher, Dedalus Diggle, Kingsley Shacklebolt-"
"Kingsley? But he's an Auror! Shouldn't he be working to find out where Voldemort's hiding?"
She hissed. "Don't say his name, Harry! And yes, he probably should, but he does spare some time to check in on you, as does Tonks."
"Tonks? She checks in on me too? She could at least drop by and say hello to me," he said, annoyed.
"And risk letting the Muggles know that their home is being watched over by wizards? Ha!"
"Alright, I'll give you that one."
"Darn right you should. Now get moving, Harry-get back home. The more you stay out here and keep talking the more in danger you are. Go on now, shoo!" she said, waving him away.
He frowned. "It was good seeing you, Mrs. Figg."
"And it was good seeing you, Harry. Now go!"
Shaking his head, he turned and headed back towards the Dursleys. A quick five minute walk and he was back at the front door. When he opened it, he found himself face to face with Dudley.
"Get out of my way."
"You forgot to say please," Harry remarked dryly.
Dudley balled his hand into a fist and waved it in front of Harry. "This is my please," he growled.
"That's not a very polite please," Harry said. "Come on, let's work on this. Say 'Harry, please step out of the doorway so I can get through.' Come on."
Dudley gave him a vile suggestion and shoved him out of the way before stalking off down the path. Harry called after him, "You wouldn't have gone through so much to smoke if you had just said please!" Dudley's shoulders hunched in irritation as he continued walking away.
Harry grinned. Sure, he had been shoved, but it was well worth it just to annoy his cousin.
He walked inside, bent on finding something to eat before he returned to his solitude in his room, when the phone rang. Uncle Vernon usually answered the phone, but seeing as he was at work, Aunt Petunia wiped her hands on her apron and crossed to the phone in the kitchen. Harry paid her little attention as he went over to the refrigerator and began to dig around for something quick and edible.
"Hello?"
Harry found the makings for a sandwich and got them out. He then noticed Aunt Petunia glance at him nervously.
"Er-who?"
Harry eyed her as she continued to glance his way nervously.
"May I ask who you are?"
Keeping his eye on Aunt Petunia, he walked over to the bread taker and got out two slices of bread.
"And-er-how do you know him?"
That really got Harry's attention. Nervous glances and a "him" obviously meant someone had actually called on the phone for him. But who? Who would call him?
"I-"
"Who is it?" he demanded. He didn't want Aunt Petunia to do anything that could stop him from talking to whoever was calling him.
"Er-one second please." She set the receiver on her shoulder and glared at him. "I am on the phone."
"With somebody who obviously wants to talk to me. I can see it on your face," he said. "Who is it?"
"A girl," she said sourly.
His eyes widened. "A girl? Who?"
She put the receiver back up to her ear. "I'll let you speak to him, Miss Granger."
"Miss Granger? Hermione?" His heart leapt. He snatched the phone the moment she handed it over. "Hello? Hermione?"
"Hello, Harry," said the one voice Harry had longed to hear most. "How has your summer been?"
"Fine," he replied and watched as his aunt pursed her lips and walked out. He lowered his voice. "You're lucky you called when Uncle Vernon is at work. He would have hung up on you. How has your summer been?"
"Oh, pretty good. I finished my last piece of homework last week."
"Last week!" he exclaimed. "I've only got Charms and Potions done."
"Potions? Really? I would have thought you'd save that for last."
"Oh, I thought I'd just torture myself early, for once."
She laughed, a sound that he realized he had sorely missed. "I'm glad to hear it." But then her voice sobered. "Listen, Harry, this isn't a social call, and calling is a lot safer than sending you a letter-Death Eaters don't tap telephone lines. The real reason why I'm calling is…I was able to convince my parents to let you come to my house and stay, and I got Dumbledore to agree to it as well. So-erm-do you want to come over and stay for the rest of the summer?"
Harry stood frozen to the spot with his jaw hanging open. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind at once, most of them involving him, her, and their lips. "Er-sure! I would love that."
"Really?" she asked and he could tell she was nervous.
"Yes. I'm a little shocked at the moment," he admitted. "You've never invited me or Ron over to your house before."
"Oh, well, that's because the Burrow is so much more fun and I figured you two would rather be there. But this summer…there are some special circumstances," she said.
Harry picked up on her line of thought right away. "Because of Percy?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how they're taking it? Have you heard from Ron lately?"
"I received one letter from Ron, informing me that he doubted that his parents would want anybody at the Burrow this summer and well, while I don't mind staying at home, I couldn't imagine letting you stay with the Dursleys all summer, so I quickly wrote Professor Dumbledore a letter and started in on my parents, begging them to let you stay."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now quick, ask your aunt if you can come."
"Sure." He put the receiver against his shoulder. "Aunt Petunia?"
She popped into the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. "What?"
"Er-can I go stay at my friend's house for the rest of the summer?"
She stared at him for a moment. "That friend of yours is a girl."
He frowned. "Your point? Look," he said, "if you don't let me go, I'll just leave on my seventeenth birthday anyway. You might as well let me go now. And think, you'll never have to see me ever again."
She twisted her hands together. "I should really discuss this with your uncle…"
"Well, what do you think Uncle Vernon would say?"
This time she frowned. "Alright, fine, you may go."
He grinned. "Thank you." He put the receiver back up to his ear. "Hermione? How soon can you get me out of here?"
"Is this Saturday too soon?"
He scoffed. "Not at all. What time can I expect you?"
"Well, my parents and I will be arriving by car…I would say between twelve-thirty to one o'clock. Is that good?"
"It's fine." He grinned. "I'm looking forward to seeing you."
"As am I. I'll see you Saturday, Harry. Have your trunk all ready to go."
"I sure will."
She gave a short laugh. "Okay. Good-bye."
"Bye."
He hung up the phone, and as he did, there was a smile on his face, a smile that did not leave him until he fell asleep that night.