I own nothing except the plot…if I owned the characters, DH would have been WAY different…reviews r kindly accepted…more chapters 2 come…
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Water pounded hard on the already-soaked windowsill where two eyes were lost in thought. The rain seemed to be a refreshing getaway to think and cope with things. Alone with the element of purity-the element of cleansing. That is exactly what Harry Potter was doing this soggy day; trying to cleanse his thoughts and his memories…the memories which were destroying him inside. He had hoped, after rescuing Sirius in his 3rd year that things would get better; that maybe, somehow, Voldemort would poof out of existence and let him live out his life as he should…no more celebrity…no more recognition…no more missions, just time to be…normal. He often imagined his life without the infamous `scar'. It was the closest he could get to a normal life…or what he thought was a normal life, considering he had never lived it.
The rain began falling like rocks on the ceiling and broke him out of his muse. He was sitting in the bed of his quaint little room in Privet Drive. Stupid love magic, he thought as he glanced around his room. His eyes grazed past the desk in the far corner where he wrote all of his owl letters. It was full of muggle papers thrown about and a couple of pens with a lonely pencil sitting right in the middle. As he focused in on it he related himself to it…he was different…he was alone…he had to fend for himself. Then he saw two more pencils, one normal and one red that were out of sight in the shadows, roll down. They, like if by some magical force, had rolled down just on cue and poised themselves by the lonely pencil in the middle. Atta boy, he thought as he had an inkling of a smile for the first time since he had gotten to his foster home. He was about to turn his head back when a sharp bolt of light illuminated the room and the crackle broke the solemn atmosphere. He looked out of the window just in time to miss how the red pencil, because of the force of the lightning strike, quavered slightly and rolled off to the wooden floor with a barely-audible clack.
The reason he was so depressed was because he had been out of contact with the magical world ever since he had incarcerated himself inside that wretched house for the sake of protection. In his ponderings late at night, he had often started thinking of what he missed most in the magical world. He would think and think…Hogwarts?…don't think so…using magic…maybe…today, though he thought he had the answer. Every time he was isolated, that person was the first to enter his mind. That person loved the chess games he played and laughed at his losses, was always there in times of peril to lend a helping hand, and was the first person he hoped would send an owl to him with news from the other side. That one person…that one memory that seemed so distant right now…Hermione. Hermione, he thought for what seemed like the millionth time during that long summer. Today was July the 29th and it was the second time in that day that his thoughts wandered to her. How is she? Why hasn't she owled me yet? Could something have happened to her? No! Nothing happened to her she's fine, and so is Ron. Ron…he hadn't thought about him in a while. His thoughts entertained the thought of Ron in the Burrow but immediately, as if drawn by a magnet, wound their way back to…her.
He had been sitting there in his bed, in that little thinking bubble of his most of the morning and hadn't even paid attention to the breakfast that had been slid through the doggie door and was now grabbing the attention of many types of animal species considering it was so old that by now it was probably poisonous to ingest by humans. Harry hadn't found it good-looking in the first place so he just ignored it, but now his stomach was telling him otherwise…the food that was now rancid looked like a godsend. He didn't want to touch it though so he just convinced himself he'd wait around for lunch to fly through the flap.
As he stared idly towards the food, a sudden crash awoke him from his daydream and he fell off the bed much in the same way as he had when Dobby had first appeared. He quickly got up and his eyes swung open. Suddenly feeling awake as if he had drunk ten espressos, he flung himself over his bed and opened his window to let in the small owl known as Pig. It wasn't the owl from the person he had most wanted to hear from, but it was a start. Pig hooted gleefully and landed in the light on the top of the room. "Pig would you get over here? Gimmie that letter!" said Harry in an annoyed voice, while pig toyed with him by moving from side to side so he could not grasp the letter tied to his leg. Finally, after a while of attempting to catch Pig, the owl happily bounded on Harry's bed and extended his leg. By this point, Harry was exhausted beyond measure because of the incessant chasing of his best friends owl across the room and back. He barely had any energies left to untie the letter, but his need to know what was happening in the magical world was too powerful and he extended his hand with all of his energies, untied the letter, and plopped on the floor. Finally, he thought, let's find out what is going on. He slowly opened up the letter as Pig slowly raised his round head above Harry's shoulder to get a better look.
Dear Harry,
How are you? I'm sorry I haven't sent you an owl since school ended, but I heard that the death eaters have a way of intercepting owls and I didn't think it would be safe for me to give away your location. I managed to plead Mrs. Weasley into letting me send this one letter…I hope it won't be traced.
The news is that, even with Dumbledore gone, Voldemort still hasn't shown his face. Its strange, really, how he now has a clean shot at you and hasn't done anything about it. That is what we're afraid of here in the Burrow. I moved in with my family to be safer and we want you to do so too when you come of age in two days. So I expect you here as soon as possible.
On the note of your birthday, I probably won't be able to owl you that day so I just wanted to say: Happy Birthday! Sorry, I just couldn't miss your big day if you got delayed. I sent you a present with a delivery owl but it won't be delivering it until your birthday, so you will just have to wait!
Anyways, everyone's fine here and having fun for what seems like the first time in months. I hope you are all right over there. Hold on for just two more days for me…for us. I just want to know you are safe. I'm worried about you Harry, I truly am. I hope you are all right. Don't owl back…just in case.
Love,
Hermione
Harry sucked in every word of the letter, re-reading it over and over. He particularly liked the last paragraph…hold on for two more days for me…for me. He held the letter in his hands for a second and then sighed…it was the best news he'd received in a long time.
Soft footsteps were then heard emanating from the door and they progressively got louder and louder. Here comes Uncle Vernon with my food, thought Harry rather unconsciously as he was still thinking about the letter. The footsteps stopped tight in front of Harry's door and a nasally and congested voice said, "You're food boy! Its 6:10 p.m. and we are not going to be paying you visits any time soon so you better eat now or starve!" Uncle Vernon had been with the flu that whole week and was having fits almost constantly because of it. Any anger he had he would immediately throw on anyone in the immediate vicinity…or Harry…so it was unwise to be in the near him when he was due to explode…or to be Harry. The food that slipped through the door was little more appetizing than the one already on the floor: it was rice that looked more like mashed potatoes and a slice of meat the size of Harry's hand which appeared to have not been cooked for much longer than three seconds. Harry eyed the food hungrily, the letter had re-sparked every system in his body and now he was fully awake…and hungry. He jumped the plate like a rabid animal and scarfed it down in little more time than it took to cook the meat. Uncle Vernon is getting better at this cooking business, thought Harry as he sighed, patting his stomach.
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