The Letters of Summer
Letters and Liberty
By kokopelli
Chapter 3 — Letters and Liberty
Harry stared at the back door for a while, not because he was expecting Tonks, or anyone else for that matter, to come back through the door, but because he was reviewing his bizarre conversation with the young Auror. Was there anything normal about her? Harry wished for a moment that he were older, or she were younger, before saying aloud:
"Don’t even think about getting on that train, Harry. Aurors don’t need schoolboy boyfriends, even if he is the famous/dangerous/nutters Harry Potter."
Harry gathered up all of his stuff, briefly considering placing his new clothes inside the Passbox to carry them upstairs. He concluded that if the Passbox door shut while carrying it upstairs, he’d send his new clothes to Hogwarts (Dumbldore’s office?), or worse yet, back to Granger’s house (Hermione’s bedroom?). At the top of the stairs, Harry turned, nudged the door to his room open with his toe, and deposited his load on the very small writing desk that comprised one-third of the furniture of the room. The clothes went into his dresser, except for the trainers, which went onto his feet. The trainers felt marvelous. He’d have to make sure he properly thanked Hermione, not to mention reimburse her. He carefully lifted up Hedwig’s cage and placed the Passbox under the cage, making sure that all the doors were closed. The only thing left on the desk was the ivory coloured envelope, which he snagged before he plopped onto his bed. Harry slid his thumb under the flap and opened it.
Dear Harry,
I have so much that I want to say to you, but I don’t know how much I can reduce to writing in this letter. Knowing Tonks as I do, I’m sure that she has changed shapes several times by now and no doubt has shown you her version of "Harriet Potter." The story is true. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her for several reasons, the first being that I thought she was related to James, and the second being that she really is fetching in most of her forms, except for the times when she is deliberately making herself look odd. (Kindly keep to yourself my observations about Tonks, as I have to work with her for the foreseeable future.) She’s shameless, a klutz, and she makes me laugh, which I haven’t done enough of for many, many years. Many people underestimate her, to their detriment. She is a powerful witch, and her grasp of Auror field craft is superb, provided that she doesn’t have to go anywhere quietly.
A quick note about the Passbox: the door must click shut to activate the pass magic. You’ll hear a brief sucking sound when you send items and a brief popping noise when you receive. About one hour after the doors have been sealed with your blood, the knobs will glow after you receive anything. This is a right clever bit of magic, and I hope that it will allow you to keep better connected with our world while you are doing time at the Dursley’s. Now, on to more unpleasant business: Sirius wrote a will before he died. He made a few specific bequests to you that I will deliver the next time I see you. He also asked that I be appointed to serve as your guardian, which I have accepted. Given the unique circumstances of your life (and mine) I expect that we may experience some resistance from the Wizengamot in approving me as your guardian, but I believe that Dumbledore may be able to exert some influence here. Enclosed in this envelope you will find a notice for Sirius’ funeral. I would be honored if you would accompany me to the service and to the wake afterwards. The service occurs on the day the moon breaks full. As I am currently taking Wolfsbane Potion, if we tarry too late, you may get a chance to see the tame wolf. We can talk about the details in another post, or on that day if you wish. If possible, drop me a line so I can confirm that the Passbox at Grimmauld Place really works.
Very truly yours,
R. Lupin
Harry smiled at the signature. It was not lost on him that he did not sign as "Professor Lupin" but by his initials. At last, someone was treating him like he something other than a first year! Harry peeked inside the envelope. There was a small card still inside. It stated:
Remembrance Service
Sirius L. Black
Saturday, 2:00 p.m.
St. Simon’s Church
Wake to follow in the parish house
The back of the card gave a string of numbers, which Harry presumed were Apparition coordinates, followed in parentheses with what might be a Floo network address. Harry rose from his bed, put the letter and notice back in the envelope, and put the envelope safely into his trunk. Turning to his desk, he pulled out pen and parchment and wrote four quick notes. The first note took an inordinate amount of time, as Harry could not figure out the salutation. After dithering for a while, he finally wrote the first note in one sitting.
Dear Remus,
Thanks so much for your note. Yes, my visit with Tonks was memorable. She makes me laugh too. I will ask my aunt about the service this Saturday. Assuming that they don’t have to do anything to get me there, I’m sure that they will say yes. Any day that they can rid themselves of me is regarded as a good day. Tonks said something about Flooing from Mrs. Figg's house. I don’t like to go anywhere by Floo, but I’m sure it would be less fuss than the flying escort I received the last time I left Dursley’s. Hoping soon to be your ward.
Harry
Dear Hermione,
It was so good to hear your voice yesterday. You were lucky to catch Aunt Petunia, who will sometimes acknowledge that I’m here. Uncle Vernon would have denied that I live here and hung up on you. I’ve got to figure out how to get a cell phone and get around this, but I’m not sure that it’s very practical, as you are the only person I want to talk to that has a phone. Talking to you cheered me up a lot.
Has your house been connected to the Floo network yet? Getting this Passbox has done a lot to make me feel better about this summer — anything would be an improvement over last summer. Do let me know how much the clothes cost — the trainers are wonderful by the way. Thank you. You did a very good job on colour and size.
I’ll write more later.
Your friend,
Harry
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
First, I want to apologize for my behavior the last time I was in your office. I was acting like a foul brat. You deserve better than I gave you that night. Please forgive me.
After thinking things through, I’m concerned that I’ve not made more progress in Occlumency. Is there any way that I can work on this over the holiday?
Life with the Dursleys is about normal. Aunt and Uncle thus far are ignoring me and Dudley seems quite motivated to stay out of my way as well. I won’t ask what the Order is doing this summer, but I can’t help but think that Wormtail was involved in breaking the Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Sirius said that the Dementors were less able to affect him when he was in his Animagus form. I hope the Ministry is taking special care to guard the Death Eaters left in Azkaban, but that’s beyond what I can do anything about.
Yours truly,
Harry
Dear Ginny,
According to Tonks, you are the mastermind behind the Passbox. Well, George always said that I should never confuse size with power — you are quite a witch. I’m glad a) that you’re on our side and b) that you are my friend. I want to stay on your good side for the next sixty or seventy years.
I’ve thought about our last discussion. Hopefully I can emerge at the end of the summer less the hermit and more the well-connected fellow. But then again, maybe the Canons will win the pennant this year too. (Don’t tell Ron I said that!)
Hermione called yesterday — it did a lot to cheer me up. Will I see you at the service for Sirius this Saturday? I have a longer letter that I started when I was at Hogwarts, but it’s not done yet. I need to put this in the Passbox quickly, as I think that Aunt Petunia and her ickle Duddykins are finally home.
I’ll write again soon.
Your friend,
Harry
~+~
Harry was correct, his Aunt and cousin had arrived. Harry stuffed the letters into envelopes and put them into their respective chambers in the Passbox. Lupin was correct; as the doors clicked shut, there was a hissing sound similar to what Dudley made when he inhaled prior to exerting himself. Harry was surprised that he hadn’t noticed the sound when Tonks was demonstrating the Passbox. Maybe she was talking over the faint noise, or maybe he just wasn’t "paying attention" given the flirtatious company he’d been keeping. Harry wasn’t willing to make a wager either way. After posting the four letters, he ran down the stairs to see if Aunt Petunia needed any help unloading from her shopping trip.
Tuesday was cheap milk day at her favorite supermarket and there were indeed groceries to unload in the back of her car. After putting the groceries away, Harry asked if there were any more chores before dinner. Petunia replied that there were none and Harry disappeared from the kitchen. His destination was the bicycle shop, which required a bus trip into town and back. At the end of last summer, Dudley had claimed that his bicycle was broken and demanded a new one. The old bicycle was still in the garage and Harry had cleared it with Dudley that if he could get the old bicycle fixed, it was his to use for the summer. Dudley’s fantasy was that he would begin to drive an automobile this summer, but thus far all that had happened was that he had received a new bicycle with more gears than last year’s model. Harry was fairly certain that with pliers, a screwdriver and a new brake cable that the old bicycle would be back in commission, hence the trip to the bicycle shop.
Harry mused while catching the bus that he was probably being followed; most likely by someone he’d met from the Order of the Phoenix. Harry couldn’t spot any minders. If they would bother to show themselves, he’d tell them where he was going and save them some trouble, but if they wanted to play secret games, he’d play along too. It wasn’t the security that he minded; it was the fact that even after last year, no one would tell him anything. "One more thing to be peeved about," he thought to himself.
The bus ride was uneventful; Harry made it to the shop before it closed, picked up his cable and a bag of dark chocolate from the quick shop next to the bicycle shop. While coming out of the quick shop, Harry noticed a familiar figure across the street: what appeared to be Elphias Doge in Muggle attire, looking intently into the window of a woman’s lingerie shop. Harry carefully crossed the street and came up behind Mr. Doge, speaking softly.
"I’m going back home now, on the bus. I don’t think anything in that shop would really look good on you, but then I’m only fifteen."
"Thanks, Potter." Elphias replied without moving his lips. "It’s not for me, it’s for the Missus, who happens to have a birthday coming next week."
"Wish her a Happy Birthday from me."
"I’ll do that, Potter, now don’t miss your bus."
Harry returned to Privet Drive the way he’d come, paying attention to the time it had taken. He’d figured that he could make it into the retail district of town and back within an hour. He was pleased that his estimate was correct. Once he had access to a functioning bicycle, he intended to extend his reach into Surrey beyond Little Whinging.
Upon his return, Harry had hoped to check his Passbox for new mail, but was stopped by Aunt Petunia who handed him a peeling knife and said, "Peel these," while pointing to a small mound of potatoes and carrots.
Harry could smell the chicken roasting in the oven. Six potatoes and eight carrots later, Harry presented a filled glass baking dish to Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia looked at the offering with a sneer on her face that reminded Harry of Narcissa Malfoy. Other than the fact that Narcissa probably disliked Muggles as much as Vernon Dursley disliked Wizards (and anything magical), he was sure that they’d get along just fine. Petunia dismissed Harry, who disappeared up the stairs.
To Harry’s delight, three of the knobs on the Passbox were lit, a pale blue colour, Harry noted. With all the gusto of ripping into packages at Christmas, Harry opened one door after another, pulling an envelope out of each. Harry considered briefly saving all of the letters for after dinner, but then decided against it. Each envelope had his name on it, but in all the excitement of pulling the mail from the chambers of the Passbox, Harry had forgotten which envelope came from which chamber. The only handwriting he immediately recognized was Hermione’s handwriting. Harry ripped open that envelope first, putting the rest on the desk.
Dear Harry,
To answer your direct question, no, my house is not connected to the Floo network. Apparently it is authorized, and my parents have put in a request, but there appears to be a bit of a backlog in the office that does that sort of thing. Ginny arrived at my house in a perfectly Muggle way: riding in the back seat of Mum’s car. Mum determined that I’d start this holiday by learning to drive, so this was my first time behind the steering wheel since I got my learner’s permit. She’d sent me the book "What every driver must know" after Christmas, but to be honest, I didn’t crack it open until after we’d finished O.W.L.s. Driving is a mechanical skill, which means that Ron would probably do quite well, without any instruction at all. I, on the other hand, am frightened out of my wits whilst behind the wheel. Of course, seeing my Mum slam her foot down on the floorboard every time I need to be applying the brake pedal doesn’t do much for my serenity either.
This summer, Mum’s working two days a week in the clinic and taking one Saturday a month, so I guess I’ll be driving a lot as she’s quite determined that I’ll have my license before we return to school in the fall. It’s a good time to talk, so I guess I’m being very efficient, recharging my relationship with Mum whilst learning a new skill. Mum got a bit frosty with me when she found out that I’m still taking potions for the injuries I sustained that night in the Department of Mysteries. DON’T YOU DARE APPOLOGIZE OR THINK THAT THIS IS YOUR FAULT, HARRY! If it hadn’t been for your coaching at all the D.A. sessions I would probably have been dead instead of wounded. I’m not sure that this bookish girl is cut out for the life of an Auror, but given the current circumstances, I’m willing to learn all the combat skills I can stand. I’m down to three potions now, all of which I take at night before bed. Mum wanted the full story, but got quite upset when I told her the briefest outline of what happened. She may write or call you. If she does, tell her the truth, but be careful. If she freaks out completely, she may do something horrid like pull me out of Hogwarts.
I had to put this letter down and stop writing, as the last sentence made me so mad. I’m not asking Mum for permission to go to the funeral this Saturday, as she’d ask too many questions, and I don’t want to lie to my Mum, but I don’t want her to flip out when she finds out the full truth either. I suppose that I’ll have to add this to my list of "things that really stink about being a Muggle-born witch" but I’m not quite certain which category it falls into. I really do have such a list, but I only write in it when I’m really feeling sorry for myself, which thankfully is quite rare.
I don’t like the tone of this letter, and will try to write you a better one tomorrow. I’ve promised myself that I’ll write Ron (you remember Ron, don’t you?) as my box, like yours, is also a four-way Passbox. Ginny and I worked out all the magic necessary and then had Bill and Mrs. Weasley do the actual spell work, as we are in that rotten time of the year when we CAN’T DO MAGIC! If I could do magic, right now I’d do a Cheering charm, but instead I’ll see if I can find some chocolate in the house. Mum and Dad are great, but there are drawbacks to living with dentists.
Love from
Hermione
Harry picked the other letters up from the desk and put them, along with Hermione’s letter, into the cubbyhole under the loose floorboard. He then looked briefly at the bag of chocolate and figured that Hermione needed it more than he did. It went into the Granger chamber of the Passbox, and with a click and a whisk sound, was gone from Privet Drive. Harry looked at his watch, and figured that it was time to set the table. He really didn’t care whether his Aunt and Uncle were happy with him or not, but had resolved at the beginning of the summer that he’d be super polite as a way of manipulating them into leaving him alone.
Aunt Petunia was coming towards the base of the stairs (probably to yell at Harry) when Harry appeared at the top of the stairs. A sour expression passed her face and she addressed Harry.
"Did your minder come?"
"Yes, Ma’am."
"Which one?"
"The lady."
"Do you mean that girl with the horrid coloured hair from the train station?"
"Yeah, that’s the one, but her hair was normal coloured today."
"What did she want?"
"To talk about stuff."
"What sort of stuff?"
Harry paused, looking at the steps, then looked back to his Aunt.
"Magic stuff."
"Oh. Set the table."
"Yes, Ma’am."
After setting the table, Harry figured that he was on a roll, so he cornered Aunt Petunia in the kitchen.
"Aunt Petunia?"
"What do you want, Harry?"
"I’ve been invited to go away with my minders this weekend."
"What for?"
"For my Godfather’s funeral."
"Sirius?"
"Yes, that Godfather."
"I’m sorry to hear that he died. I met him at your Mum’s wedding. He was the best man, I was the maid of honor."
"I didn’t know you’d ever met." Harry lurched inside like he’d just fallen into a hole. He didn’t know that she’d been part of the wedding party, and now she was acting like he was someone deserving sympathy, rather than a constant source of dirt and annoyance. Harry kept his swirling emotions masked.
"It was a long time ago. Was he killed by your Ministry police?"
"No, he died in a battle with Death Eaters."
"Oh. When will you leave?"
"Saturday morning."
"When will you get back?"
"I’m not sure, maybe Sunday morning."
"Make sure that the lawn is done by Friday and you can go. Don’t mention it to your uncle; I’ll deal with him. Call Dudley for dinner, please."
"Yes, Ma’am" Harry said, stepping out of the room. As he went looking for Dudley, he tried to figure out his aunt. "What a twisted day, first I have Tonks the tease and now I have my dragon Aunt, trying hard to be civil to me," he thought.
Dinner was blessedly boring, and by local standards, fairly tasty: roast chicken, potatoes roasted with carrots, steamed broccoli with brownies for dessert. Dudley got a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on his brownie, while Harry’s brownie was plain. As Harry was not particularly fond of this combination, and in fact didn’t like his Aunt’s brownies much either, he ignored the slight and complimented his Aunt on the meal. Dudley excused himself from the table, having concluded that he wasn’t going to get seconds on dessert.
"So, Boy, did your minders visit today?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Did they check how you are being treated?"
Harry thought back to Tonks running her wand over Harry’s front and back.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what did they find?"
"She said I’m not dead yet."
Uncle Vernon blew air through his mustache and looked at Harry.
"Clear the table, Boy, and then get out of here."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
~+~
Standing on a paint can in the garage, Harry was able to retrieve Dudley’s old bicycle from its hook. Its tyres were squashy, and the cable to the rear brake was missing. The first problem took all of three minutes to solve once he’d found the tyre pump. Replacing the brake cable was not a simple task, however. Harry observed that this was either a two-person job, or one best accomplished by men with three hands. The thought of using magic to finish the job crossed Harry’s mind ever so briefly, but after Harry’s previous scrapes with the Improper Use of Magic Office, he determined that improvised solutions based on duct tape would have to suffice instead of an improvised third hand charm.
Nearly an hour later, the bicycle was again operational and Harry had bandages on the cuts on his hands from finishing this job. Harry inspected the remainder of the bicycle, tightening a few nuts here and there. He was now ready for his test ride.
Harry had never ridden a bicycle before, but as Dudley had managed the feat, Harry figured that it couldn’t be that difficult. Opening the side door to the garage, Harry wheeled the bicycle out onto the driveway. Looking both directions on Privet Drive, Harry figured that the coast was clear, both of cars and any witnesses to his maiden voyage. To Harry’s surprise, he mounted the bicycle, put his feet on the pedals and proceeded down the street without mishap. Years of broom riding had given Harry both balance and confidence. Braking was a bit odd, and Harry soon discovered that it was a good idea to use both front and back brakes, as using only the front brake had almost flopped him over the handlebars.
It wasn’t a Firebolt, but it was fun, especially coasting after a burst of pedaling and then swooping from side to side, leaning into the turns and righting the bicycle again. Yes, this indeed had promise for Harry’s plans for holiday mobility. Harry began to figure whether or not it was possible to ride to Hermione’s house or the Burrow as a day trip. He’d have to consult some maps when he returned to the Dursleys’.
~+~
Slipping up the stairs like a thin, black-haired shadow, Harry entered his bedroom and noted with some satisfaction that two of the knobs on the Passbox were lit. Harry pulled the Hogwarts door open and extracted a small envelope marked with what he now recognized as Dumbledore’s personal seal. The other lit chamber on the box was Hermione’s. Harry found it odd that Hermione should write back so suddenly, but was gratified to pull an envelope from that chamber as well. Before sitting down on the bed, he pulled up the loose floorboard and retrieved the two unread letters from his hiding hole. Harry recognized the handwriting on one of the envelopes — it was from Lupin. The second envelope was written in an erratic feminine scrawl. Lupin’s envelope got opened first.
Dear Harry,
As we will no doubt be seeing a great deal of each other, we should figure out how you will address me, as I am no longer entitled to the honorific of "Professor." Your Mum used to refer to us as "Uncle Padfoot" and "Uncle Moony" when we would be engaged as child minders before your parent’s demise, so if that is acceptable to you, it would bring me some measure of comfort. I’ve taken the liberty of booking an appointment with Sirius’ solicitor on Saturday morning before the service. Tonks will pick you up from your Uncle’s house at 9:00 a.m.. You will indeed be Flooing from Mrs. Figg’s house to Grimmauld Place, and we will start our day together after you arrive there. I will be engaged in other business until that time, so if you write a reply to this note, I will not see it until Saturday morning, if then.
Until that time, I remain your
Uncle Moony
Harry snorted at the signature, trying to imagine the somber professor playing with a toddling baby Harry or changing his nappy. He figured he’d ask Moony (Uncle Moony?) about that if the opportunity presented itself on Saturday. Harry tackled the unknown writer’s letter next. As Harry lifted the flap, he noticed a faint smell like that of baking, one of the scents he associated with the Burrow. Looking to the tail of the letter, he saw what he recognized as Ginny’s signature. Turning the page over, he began to read at the beginning.
Dear Harry,
Mastermind, I like the sound of that. Keep up the flattery, and you may stay on my good side for the next year, but it’s too soon to chart out who’s going to be on my good side further out than that.
I was glad to figure out the Passbox for you, Harry, as I went a bit mad when I thought of how your last summer went, much less the events of last year at Hogwarts. Yes, I’ll be at the service on Saturday. As I am of school age, you’ll see me (or not as the case may be) wearing a half veil. If I were a close family member or Sirius’ wife (don’t laugh, I’m sure he’d have been married to someone by now but for his dozen years in Azkaban) I’d be wearing the customary full veil, which I last saw when Mum attended her Mum’s funeral, two years before I started at school. Under Wizarding custom, Tonks has the option of going with the half veil or the full veil, but I suspect that she’ll opt for the half veil as the full veil is a real pain.
I haven’t told Ron about the Passbox yet, as he was a massive prat when we got home. If he would stop trying to pull rank on me and return to being the loveable git I grew up with, we’ve be getting along loads better. The issue du jour is Dean Thomas. PLEASE! I look forward to seeing your longer letter. According to Hermione, you are the King of the short letter writers — she was referencing the length of your letters, not the size of the shadow you cast. As the shortest Weasley in several generations, I cannot go around making short jokes, although Hermione did play a very funny Muggle tune for me about "short people" that was popular when her parents were younger.
Well, I need to wrap this letter up, as Mum’ll expect my chores to be done before dinner (imagine that!).
Your Mastermind,
Ginny
Harry opened Dumbledore’s letter next.
My dearest Harry,
Your apology is accepted; please consider yourself forgiven. Having lived a long, long life, battling Grindelwald and Voldemort, I have lost many friends and outlived many others. I know what it is to lose loved ones.
I, too, am concerned with your progress with Occlumency. In retrospect, it is obvious that Professor Snape was not the best teacher for this subject. Perhaps I should consult Firenze for my next appointment? It couldn’t hurt I suppose. Remus is attempting to renew contact with a suitable tutor for this most rare subject. For obvious reasons I cannot advertise that I am seeking this assistance, so it is thus far proving to be as elusive as my ongoing search for a fit instructor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would encourage you to consider what you would like to cover should the D.A. club continue this next year. I’m most impressed with the progress you made this year under difficult circumstances.
I am advised that you are now riding a Muggle bicycle — a most worthy endeavor. I rode a boneshaker myself many years ago and spent many a pleasant afternoon in the country, courtesy of my improved mobility. Once I learned the art of broomstick and Apparition, I’m afraid that I rather neglected transportation on two wheels, but nonetheless, I remain very fond of those memories. I implore you to obtain a Muggle bicycle helmet to carry on with this pursuit. Miss Granger will no doubt know how you may obtain one, should you not have one readily on hand.
I will be away from Hogwarts for the balance of the week. My incomparable Deputy will attend to any mail you send.
Make the most of your circumstances, no matter what they may be.
Your friend and Headmaster,
A.P.W.B.D.
Harry saved Hermione’s new letter for last, but to his surprise when he opened it, it was not from Hermione, but from her mother. Her Mum’s handwriting was very similar, which had caused the confusion in the first place. There was enough of a difference, however, that he turned the letter to the end where he found a signature that was definitely not Hermione’s. Having routed the confusion, Harry picked the letter up again for a fresh look.
Dear Harry,
I’ve heard so much about you, although I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you beyond brief exchanges in the lobby of Gringotts or on the platform at King’s Cross Station. This letter is a first in many respects; I’ve never had occasion to use a magical device before, and I’ve never had occasion to write to someone in my daughter’s other world, the magical world where she apparently belongs.
I have two questions, both of which are somewhat indelicate, so I will not beat around the bush. The first concerns your relationship with Hermione. I see in her all the signs of a young girl separated from her boyfriend, and I’m wondering, are you the one that she’s endlessly mooning over? There, I’ve asked it. Now, on to the more difficult question; is Hermione safe at Hogwarts? Sometime last year she was injured to the point that she’s still taking medicine for her injuries. I will not ask you to tell me what happened, but I do want to know what sort of risk she is taking when she returns to your world in the Fall. I am not asking that you keep my inquiry from Hermione, but I would appreciate the courtesy of a reply before you write Hermione again.
On a more pleasant note, I’m hoping that we can invite you to a family picnic later this month.
Sincerely yours,
Monica Granger
Although Hermione’s handwriting took after her Mum, Harry figured that she must have taken after her Dad in the tact department, as Hermione was usually diplomatic to the point of being hard to follow. Harry knew he had to answer this letter. Answering the first question was easy, but the second was hard, and potentially dangerous. He paced in his room for a while, trying to compose a reply. As nothing came to him, he wrote a short note to Ron, which he sent by Hedwig, both to needle Ron and to give Hedwig an opportunity to visit Hermes.
Dear Ron,
The Muggles are on their best behavior thus far, but the holiday is young, and Uncle Vernon has loads of practice being a prat. I’ve learned how to ride a Muggle bicycle (a bit late, but better late than never) which is not as good as playing Quidditch, or racing my broom flat out, but was still really satisfying. Anything that will keep these walls from closing in on me is a good thing. I’m assuming that I’ll see you at the service for Sirius. Let me know if you hear of any news, including when I can get out of here.
Yours,
Harry
Writing this note had not had the desired effect; he knew that he could finish the letter to Hermione’s Mum if he could just start it, but he couldn’t start it. He tied Ron’s note to Hedwig’s leg and after sending her off, decided to turn in for the night and try again after breakfast.
~+~
Breakfast and chores being done, Harry trudged back to his room with all the enthusiasm he’d had when appearing before the Wizengamot. Once he sat down to write, however, the words began to flow, and he didn’t have to do too many revisions before he had an acceptable letter.
Dear Mrs. Granger,
It was a bit of a surprise to receive your letter. When I first opened it, I thought I was reading a letter from Hermione, as your handwriting is so similar to hers. As you were direct in your questions, I will be direct in your answers. I have two very close friends at Hogwarts; Hermione is one of them. Because I am somewhat famous in the magical world, Hermione has often been paired romantically with me in the tabloid press, but as is the case with most things that are printed there, it’s not true. Although I am a boy, and I am Hermione’s friend, I’m not her boyfriend. Hermione is a wonderful girl, and I hope to be a part of her life as long as possible. I’m fairly certain, however, that she’s mooning over someone else. If you need a hint, I suggest that you pay attention to boys in Gryffindor in her year.
As to your other question, this is not easy to answer. There is evil in the Muggle world and there is evil in the magical world. Because the magical world is a bit smaller, it’s sometimes harder to avoid. For the last year, a particularly evil wizard named Voldemort has been active in Europe. He hates Muggles, witches and wizards who are born into Muggle families, and witches and wizards who are friendly to Muggles. Voldemort killed my parents when I was just a bit over one year old. He tried to kill me too, but something went wrong, and he lost most of his power while I grew up. A year ago, he came back into his powers. Our Ministry of Magic tried to deny this over the last year, but by the end of the year, denial was no longer an option. If it’s any comfort to you, Voldemort has tried to kill me four times and failed. The only wizard that Voldemort fears is our Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
Hermione is a powerful witch in her own right, and under Dumbldore’s care I believe that she will be safe. If she keeps studying as she has been, in a year or so she will be more than able to defend herself from any one or any thing. I am assuming that Hermione will have earned a record number of O.W.L.s this year, which will qualify her, once she turns seventeen, to take her place in the magical world as an adult. Before she attains majority, however, she is not allowed to use magic. Apart from Hogwarts, the safest place for Hermione over the summer is either the Burrow, or the place she stayed last summer. If you are concerned for your family’s safety this summer, I suggest that you write to Professor Dumbledore, who will be able to take measures to protect your home and family. In the mean time, make sure that Hermione always has her wand, at all times and places.
If Hermione were to withdraw from Hogwarts, she would be in the worst of all possible worlds, as she would be unable to use magic, but she would still be a prime target for Voldemort and his followers as she is a very well known Muggle born witch. I hope that this does not unduly frighten you, but frank questions deserve frank answers.
I never had any brothers or sisters, but if I did, I could not love them more than I love Hermione. I would go to any length to protect her.
I would like very much to see you and your family this summer. Apart from this weekend, when I will be away, I’m free all summer.
I am very truly yours,
Harry Potter
Harry slipped the letter into the Passbox chamber marked "Granger" but paused before he closed the door. He thought back to every line in the letter, wondering if he was saying the right thing. He finally thought to himself, God hates a coward, and snapped the door shut. When he’d heard the sucking sound, he knew that for good or for ill the letter was gone. He scrambled down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the garage. He snatched Dudley’s old helmet from the closet and pulled the old bicycle from its hanging hook. He needed to ride.
Copyright Ó 2003 John Cornell — all rights reserved
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Author’s note: see the usual disclaimer in the Prologue. In the UK, teens learn to drive when they are 17. Werrf pointed this out to me after I’d written seven and one half chapters. If I was a perfectionist, I’d go back and rip out all of those references, but I’m not. For those UK subjects who can’t take a joke, just consider as fact that Monica got a special permit for Hermione through the Magic/Muggle liaison office. If you can’t believe that, why are you reading a story premised upon teenagers practicing magic?