The Dursleys were furious when Harry arrived alone and driving a Mercedes convertible. Uncle Vernon scowled and insisted he return the vehicle at once. Harry refused. Aunt Petunia argued that there wasn't enough room in the driveway for it, as it would block their car. Harry reasoned that he would be leaving first in the morning, and would be the last to return at night, so it really wasn't a problem. On weekends, he would park it on the street. Aunt Petunia argued that the neighbors would think he stole it.
Harry sighed, already exhausted by them. "Who steals a rental?"
Vernon’s face was turning a curious shade of crimson. "And who's paying? You must save your money! You will not return here! EVER!"
Harry smiled. "Don't worry about me coming back, because that’s all been taken care of. As for the car, Sara rented it for the summer, but she had to go back to Hog- uh, to school, so she's letting me run out the lease."
Petunia folded her arms and hissed her words. "If she can go back, then why can't you?!"
"She's the headmaster's niece, remember? She lives there." Harry's smile widened. "Besides, we purchased some land today. I won't need to come back here." Harry knew they’d promised not to tell anyone, but he couldn't help bringing it up. He knew they expected him to fail miserably and was only too happy to disappoint them.
Vernon's face was turning redder by the minute. "Where is this land?"
"It's on the channel. Five lots in a row at the top of the bluffs. Three are wooded and one has a little cottage. Sara says we’ll live there after graduation while we wait for the house to be built."
“He’s lying, Vernon.”
“I know, Petunia.” Vernon glared at Harry. “We’re not stupid, you know. You don’t honestly expect us to believe a load of nonsense like that?”
“Believe whatever you want. I really don’t care. I won’t be coming back either way.” Harry climbed the stairs, lugging his overstuffed backpack and some of his bags from Harvey Nichols. There were more in the car, but he'd have to make another trip. Harry smiled as he entered his room. He was happier than he'd ever been over a summer vacation and the future looked promising. Very promising indeed. Harry stood still for a moment, delight flooding his features as he remembered Sara's words. Don't you plan to marry me, Harry?
Thinking of Sara and the home they would have together, he made his way back out to the car and returned over-laden, only to find himself once again detained by his aunt and uncle.
"What is all this?" Vernon demanded, pawing over the shopping bags as Harry continued his balancing act. "Don't lie to me, boy! You're spending the money!"
"I told you, I'm not!"
Vernon grabbed a handful of Harry's unruly hair. "THEN YOU'VE RUN UP YOUR CREDIT!!"
Harry winced. "Sara bought me some clothes for my birthday! When we went to the Criterion! I didn't have anything to wear!"
"The Criterion? It's world-famous! They wouldn't let a... someone like you in a place like that. Stop lying right now!"
Harry shouted, growing annoyed. "I'm not lying! We have pictures coming! I'll show them to you!"
"Pictures?"
"Yes. At the Criterion."
"And who paid for that?" Vernon smiled as if he'd caught him with something at last and released Harry's head.
"Sara did."
Petunia smirked and re-crossed her arms. “How does a young girl have so much money? What exactly does she do for it?"
Harry leveled his gaze at his miserable aunt in silence, daring her to continue. When she said nothing, Harry narrowed his eyes further. "It's inheritance. In fact, she's filthy rich."
Delight crept into her scowl.
"I thought that might change things." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped closer, looking her square in the eye. "Her parents have been dead less than a year. Murdered by the same hand that killed my mum and dad." He felt his anger rising. "Don't ever be unkind to her again." He turned away and climbed the stairs, trying hard not to drop anything. He wasn't stepping out of his room for the rest of the night, even if he left a trail of new clothes behind him.
He’d just sat down at his desk when there came a soft knock. Curious, Harry opened the door and there was his enormous, piggish cousin Dudley.
Harry addressed him without patience. "What?"
Dudley leaned through the open door and whispered. "Harry, are all the girls at your school as pretty as those two?"
Harry shrugged and answered with honesty. "Not really. Most are just...average, I guess."
"What did you do to make her, you know, like you?"
"I didn't do anything."
"Then how did you meet her? You're not very handsome. Ugly, actually, and she's... beautiful."
"She plowed me over in the hall."
"That's it?"
"Yes, Dudley. That's the whole story. Now, if you don't mind, I have some things I want to do before I go to sleep."
"Will you be going for another weekend?"
"Probably not."
"If you do, can I come?"
Harry laughed. "No." He shut the door, snickering, and went back to his desk. He picked up his quill and wrote.
Professor Dumbledore,
Sara, Ron, Hermione and I had a wonderful time this weekend. I know you fear for Sara, and Voldemort did show up, as you know, but I handled the situation and Sara is safe. I can continue to protect her, this you know as well, which is why I don't understand why you did not allow me to accompany her back to Hogwarts. I'm sure you have your reasons, but without knowing what they are, it’s rather hard to understand.
As for the purpose of this letter, I need your help. I have been successful in thwarting Voldemort's attempts, but how do we get rid of him for good? Is Sara to live with this threat forever? Without your wisdom and vast knowledge of the dark arts, I am without a plan. You know his strengths and weaknesses better than anyone does. Perhaps together we can come up with something.
I just wanted to thank you. Sara's spirit is refreshed and she is happy once again. You made the right decision.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Harry folded and sealed the letter, opened his box of special paper, and changed quills.
Sara,
I trust the journey back to school was uneventful and tolerable at best, considering you were stuck on a train for hours with Snape. Personally, I would have lost my mind, but I know you get along with him better than I do.
You were right about the car. The Dursleys were furious and came up with every lame excuse on earth for me to return it. They said the neighbors would think I stole it. Does everyone worry so much about what the neighbors think? Then they said I couldn't have a car because Dudley didn't have one. On and on it went until they ran out of reasons and must have realized they sounded quite ridiculous. I have to admit, I told them about our land. I couldn't help it. It frustrated them to no end. I actually enjoyed the whole scene, as annoying as it was, because I'm so happy right now that nothing can ruin my mood. Not even the Dursleys.
I miss you already, but I face the next two weeks with optimism and without the powerless desperation I felt after our last goodbye. You should find someone to talk to. I have decided to write to Bill Weasley, asking for his thoughts on our situation. He's the closest thing I have to an adult brother, and he’s a right good chap. I suggest you try Mrs. Granger or Mrs. Weasley. I know you’ve spent time at Hermione’s and at the Burrow as well, but I suggest Mrs. Weasley. She's easy to talk to, full of good advice and a very caring person. She would be happy to help. After all, she's played mother to me many times and she's wonderful at it. I will send her an owl if you'd like.
I will write again tomorrow.
Love, Harry
Harry tied a letter to each of Hedwig's feet and gave her an affectionate pat on the head before sending her off. He opened the new spell book and picked up his quill, thinking a moment before beginning the opening statement.
Harry wrote at length and was surprised to see his messy hand reform into perfect, legible, flowing script that resembled his penmanship at its neatest. After this discovery, he barely formed words at all. Harry drew broken lines along the page and was delighted to see his thoughts take shape with minimal effort. By the time he'd finished, he still had over an hour before he would have to sleep and started recording a few of the spells and charms he found most useful, broken into categories of different levels of threat.
Harry had decided to devote the first part of his book to dealing with enemies. Whether they were troublesome Muggles, ruthless acquaintances, beasts, Dementors, or Voldemort himself, Harry listed tried and true ways of winning the day. Between each set of magical remedies, he spoke at length of his experiences and stated many personal opinions, as well as known truths and even a little of the wisdom he'd picked up here and there. When he laid down his quill, his eyes heavy, Harry was impressed with what he'd accomplished.
Thanks to the script-forming charm the book possessed, Harry thought as he pulled the covers over his shoulders, he would be able to complete the basic outline of what he had planned from beginning to end before returning to school. After that, he would use the little time he'd have in the evenings and on weekends to add afterthoughts, new information he might come across during the year, and anything else he was able to research in the school's library. Harry decided to send Ron a note the next night to fill him in on the books’ abilities, so he could get a head start as well. After all, the girls were far ahead of them in the construction of their books and would be annoyed if Harry and Ron showed up with little or nothing. Time would be hard to come by once classes were in full swing, with assignments, studying, Quidditch and finding time to spend with the girls. Concentrating on the body of their books would be near impossible. Best to get it done now.
Harry rolled over and his thoughts turned to the secret magic the books would perform after they used the binding spell. So far, none of them could think of anything great. His mind turned the question over and over, but the only things that came to mind were frivolous and unimportant. By the time he drifted off, an idea had begun to take shape. Lost in the folds of sleep, it would elude him for months.
* * *
All three of the Dursleys awaited him when he wandered in after work late Monday night. Harry found them in the kitchen, their attention focused on a package that lay, unopened, in the center of the table. Harry grew excited and took the empty chair, snatching up the heavy manila envelope.
Vernon pretended to be disinterested. "Your pictures?"
Harry looked at the return address and nodded.
"Well, let's see. Go on, open it."
Harry tore the heavy paper with enthusiasm. He'd been anticipating the arrival of Mr. Sanders' photographs, but hadn't expected to get them so soon. Harry guessed there were about twenty 8x10s, plus the copies of the best shot, which were wrapped and separate. These he set aside. Harry smiled at the one on top before handing it to his impatient uncle, who now had Petunia and Dudley hovering over either shoulder.
Uncle Vernon bellowed, incredulous. "What's this you're wearing? Is that a designer suit?"
Harry mumbled, too preoccupied to pay much attention. "Versace."
"You're all outside! How do we know you went in?"
"Turned away at the door, I'll wager," Petunia added, her snide tone lost on Harry, who sat smiling at image after image.
"Did you hear me, boy? You didn't go in, did you?"
Harry dropped the pictures on the table, where they were snatched up by Dudley and Mrs. Dursley. He left his seat and stormed out of the room.
Harry returned a moment later and dropped a pack of matches in front of his uncle. He’d put them in the pocket of his jacket as a souvenir.
Uncle Vernon turned them over in his large, thick hands. "These are matches."
"Yes. Matches from the Criterion."
"The only thing this proves is that you've taken up smoking!"
"I have a feeling you wouldn't believe me, even if I brought back my dinner and the Maitre D!" Harry gave a sigh of frustration. "And I haven't taken up smoking. You said we hadn't gone inside. Those prove we did. They don't have someone handing out matches on the sidewalk."
Vernon’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What did it look like?"
Harry yelled, exasperated. "Oh for Merlin’s sake!" He recounted the atmosphere and the decor, right down to the appearance of his chair. He described the Maitre D, their server, and the pattern of the silverware. He told them what he and each of his friends had for dinner, even sketched the restaurant’s layout on Mr. Sanders’ envelope.
His uncle had run out of questions. "Humph. They must be lowering their standards. They'll have a drive-up window next."
Harry gathered up the pictures and reclaimed his matches, carrying them back to his room. He'd ignored the owls in his hurry to find proof of his visit to the famous restaurant, but now he gave them his full attention. Ron's yellowish owl was resting on the back of the chair next to Hedwig. Harry lifted Ron's bird, last year's birthday gift from Hermione and himself, and petted his head at bit. "Hello there, Hemmingway. Are you hungry?"
The owl gave a short hoot, which Harry took as a yes, and deposited him in Hedwig's cage.
Harry sat in the chair and Hedwig jumped onto his shoulder. He felt her soft feathers rub against his cheek, her favorite show of affection. He ran a hand over her wing before opening his letters, Ron's first.
Harry,
I thought you'd like to know that Fred and George expanded into the neighboring storefront today, (the one I pointed out,) and will be remodeling it all week. I'm glad I bought that extra floo powder! We'll all be using it to help them. Dad and I are going every morning after work. Mum and Ginny have been bringing them meals and even Percy took the time to help put up shelves. They've been stockpiling extra merchandise all year and have a sizable inventory already. I'll keep you updated. Fred and George ask that you come in on re-opening day, which is this Saturday, because they have a surprise for you. Believe me, Harry; you're going to love it!
You'll never believe what happened! I've been named Head Boy! Mum and Dad got the letter while we were in London and they couldn't be more pleased. I don't understand why they picked me of all people. I do well enough in my classes, but I can't possibly have the best grades in the whole school! The first few years we hardly even studied! Well, not like Hermione did, anyway, and that's what it takes, we both know that. I was surprised enough to be chosen as a Prefect! As bewildering as it is, I'll take it. After all, I don't have much chance of being named Quidditch Captain now, do I? (I can't wait to see Malfoy's face!)
I've got some great ideas for my spell book. I'm going to write a whole section based on applying the strategies of chess to any sort of hostile confrontation. I've thought of a whole slew of spells, charms, potions, and general trickery that work well with the theories I plan to present. I also want to include a section on the benefits of charming certain Muggle artifacts and how they could be of use to wizards. Fred and George are the inspiration for yet another section I want to write. Can you guess what that's about? That's right, creative dueling. There are some really hilarious things you can do to people! Last week Fred gave our mother wooden legs and I just about laughed myself silly, watching her shuffle around the house until my father came home.
I plan to spend at least an hour each day writing, just so the girls don't bloody kill me, but I doubt it will amount to much. Maybe fifteen or twenty pages at best. I'll have to write big so it looks like more.
On a different note, I understand you know what happened with Hermione and I. Got any advice? You know her well enough, and I'm not exactly good with words. She won’t talk about it and I know she's upset. Mum knew there was something wrong the minute I got home and she managed to get it out of me. I thought she'd be disappointed, but she was really great. She seems to think that if we give it some time, we'll both feel better about it, but I don't know. Hermione seems different, but Mum says she'll be all right. What do you think?
Your Friend,
Ron
Ron,
Congratulations! I can't believe your luck! My best friends are Head boy and Head Girl. (Just like my parents were.) And me Quidditch Captain. Throw Sara into the mix and what a team we'll make! As for your bewilderment, don't be so hard on yourself. Grades can't be all they consider. You have original ideas and an understanding of concepts that far exceed what we're taught. Obviously, our teachers have recognized your potential.
This is reflected in the design you have chosen for your spell book. How original! I can't wait to read it, it sounds very interesting. I would never consider the application of chess strategies to anything except chess. And creative dueling! Another stroke of genius! All I've come up with is dealing with enemies. How thoroughly mundane. I was becoming quite vain about it until I read your letter. Keep thinking! And you don't have to write big. In fact, you don't have to write at all! Last night I discovered that all you have to do is move the quill and your words will form themselves. After that, I did little more than scribble and wrote about forty pages. Let's just hope the girls haven't caught on, or they'll beat us to the finish yet again.
As for the situation with Hermione, I'm afraid I can't be of much help. Your mother is probably right, though. Hermione knows how much you care for her. It's not the end of the world. Hermione will be okay. She's a survivor.
Tell Fred and George I will be glad to visit their shop on Saturday. Send along my congratulations on the expansion as well. The fact that they have a surprise for me, to be honest, fills me with dread. I can only imagine! Will I see you there?
The pictures from the Criterion came today, so I'm sending you one of the copies Sara ordered and one for Hermione as well. I know you'll be writing to her before I get the chance, so please pass it along. As for the rest, I'll have to wait to see what Sara wants to do with them, since they belong to her. I can't wait for Sara to see them! They're great!
Harry
P.S. Malfoy is going to turn six shades of purple!
Harry wrapped the pictures and the letter in brown paper and sent Hemmingway back to Ron. He sat back down with Sara's letter and was glad he'd read Ron's first.
Harry opened the box of stationary and picked up the green quill. He first related the good news about Ron, told her about Fred and George's grand re-opening, bragged about how much he'd accomplished on his spell book, and then addressed her concerns.
While she was gone, Dumbledore had moved her piano into the dining hall and expects her to play for the students on a regular basis. Harry knew how she felt about public performances, even for an audience of one, and felt terrible for her. Sara had to be comfortable, for she possessed a sort of modesty that amounted to profound stage fright. Her mother, she claimed, had been at ease performing, but Sara was horrified by, and quite frightened at, the prospect. Harry knew Sara had a talent that far surpassed her mother's and mentioned the fact in his letter, but it would do no good. He could only offer encouragement. Sara would have to face her fear all by herself.
On top of that, and in Harry's opinion far worse, Snape was sleeping in Sara's tower, stretched out on the sofa by the fireplace. She was still made to close the doors at night and wasn't happy about it, but she agreed it was a fair compromise. Besides, she was getting used to it. It was either that, or the cell she'd occupied before her escape attempt.
Snape, she claimed, was decent company. Harry found it impossible to believe, but Sara said they'd had two "lovely" evenings of discussion and listening to music. It wasn't the worst that could have happened, but she didn't understand why she couldn't open the doors if Snape was right there. Harry chose his words with care when his answer was that, on his own, Snape couldn't protect himself against Voldemort, much less someone else. He reminded her of how easily Voldemort, nowhere near his full strength, had propelled Snape across the room at the Leaky Cauldron only days before. He had to tiptoe around the issue, making her understand without leaving her feeling unprotected and vulnerable. Harry thought Snape was better than nothing, and was glad he was there, even though he couldn't help feeling envious and disliked the potions professor even more.
In fact, the only good news was that Sara had convinced Dumbledore that Hogwarts needed to have more parties with music and dancing, tables of food, Butterbeer by the keg and bowls of punch, among other things. So far, she'd said, he had agreed to make the Yule Ball an annual event. Plus, there would be a Valentine's dance. Sara claimed it would have a light romantic theme, with roses for sale all that day. Plus, there would be chocolate sculptures and tables loaded with desserts. Also, a big party on St. Patrick's Day with prizes for the best all-green outfits and an Irish-themed talent show. (Sara claimed she would sing a U2 song, but Harry doubted she would go through with it.) It sounded like fun and Sara had been appointed to head the not-yet-formed Party Committee. One more thing to keep her mind occupied. Harry thought it was a wonderful idea and evidently, so did Dumbledore.
By the time Fawkes flew through the window, Harry was so tired he could barely see, but he was so anxious to read the message from Dumbledore that his weariness all but deserted him. Harry was surprised to see Fawkes instead of one of the school owls, but was glad Dumbledore had sent him. He loved the sight of the enormous red and gold bird, so interesting and regal in appearance, that Harry wished he could have a phoenix as well. They were as rare as his invisibility cloak, if not more so. He lit on Harry's shoulder and pushed his head against the side of Harry's face, as Hedwig often did, and made to fly off.
"Wait, Fawkes! You can bring a letter to Sara. Hedwig is tired."
The grand bird wrapped his talons around the back of Harry's chair. "Just let me read this first. You can rest while I do."
Dear Harry,
In response to the questions you posed in your letter, I have this to say. Now that I know a threat lingers so near to my niece, I can adequately provide protection for her, as long as the doors to her rooms are not flung wide for every passing intruder. (She has become more sensible in that respect and is complying admirably.) Also, she is now well guarded. I know you may think Severus Snape inadequate against such a formidable opponent, but rest assured; the villain need only be dispatched. There is no real threat of danger to her life as long as she keeps her wits about her and I have explained this to Sara at length. There is of course, some, but in a crisis, Sara can defend herself. However, it is this, for the most part, that need be avoided. That concealment is crucial. I believe you understand the nature of Voldemort’s attacks.
As you can see, your involvement is not necessary until the start of term, when Professor Snape will no longer be available to stand guard over Sara. It is not, as you believe, because I did not consider your request. On the contrary, I have a good knowledge of your capabilities, especially concerning this particular wizard, and believe you to be sincere in your devotion to Sara's safety. However, because your presence for the next couple of weeks is not necessary, and also due to a prior commitment to your employer, (which I commend you on,) I decided you should remain with your relatives until your scheduled return.
As for your determination to find a permanent solution to the problem at hand, there are aspects, only recently come to our attention, that need careful consideration before any planning can be done or action taken. I will explain this to you in person and I know you will appreciate the perplexity of this new twist. There are options, Harry, but those options are few and perilous.
Best Regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry turned his attention to Fawkes. "It doesn't sound very promising, does it?"
The phoenix gave no response.
Harry gave Fawkes the letter he'd written to Sara and carried the heavy bird to the open window on his shoulder. "I'll see you soon. Have a safe trip back."
In a graceful flutter, he was gone.
* * *
Saturday finally rolled around and Harry made his way into London. The weather was still nice enough, but summer was drawing to an end in dreary old England and the air had taken a chill. The sun shone in brilliant protest and Harry drove with the top down, thinking it was no worse than playing Quidditch in early spring. The wind whipped his untamed hair as he smiled, humming along to the radio.
He parked the Mercedes and hurried into the Leaky Cauldron, stopping to have a Butterbeer and pass a few minutes with Tom, the bartender. He said a few hellos around the room, and then made his way through the back and into Diagon Alley.
Harry shifted the gift he carried and made his way into a packed house. The patrons were mostly young boys, but there were adults there as well. Quite a few of them in fact, all come to browse the new, enlarged store. The side wall had been knocked out, and the combined showroom was huge.
Harry found Fred and George behind the new checkout counter, along the back of the shop, boasting of the awesome effects of their infamous tongue swelling candy. Harry laid the gift on the counter and waited for them to finish, watching Ron run the register. He hadn't seen Harry come in.
Fred yelled in greeting and a genuine smile bloomed on his face. "Hey Cap'n!" He was soon joined by his twin who gave Harry the same salute.
Harry hadn't realized how much he'd missed their vivacious antics and was happy to be back in their company. His smile grew and he pushed the frame at them, wrapped in paper and a bow.
Harry grinned. "Got you something. It’ll bring good luck."
Fighting over who got to unwrap it, the twins tore the paper off in less than a second.
Fred grinned. "Wow, Harry! This is great!"
George agreed. "Good luck indeed! Thanks Harry! We have to hang it right away, or else we'll be jinxed." George took off with the frame, which held an enlargement of the picture by Harry's bed. The Champion Gryffindor Quidditch team from last term, their last game together. He knew they would love it, and he could tell they were sincere.
People gathered around to get a look at what George was hanging and Harry cringed when he began to hear his name pass many lips from the legion of shoppers behind him. "Harry Potter?" and "Isn't that Harry Potter?" as well as "You know Harry Potter?"
George started bragging. "Harry's the best Quidditch player in the world! Why, he's our Captain!"
Harry almost laughed at the chaotic murmur this statement prompted, which of course, encouraged George. "He's a right horrible git. Very ugly and downright rude if you ask me. If it wasn't for Quidditch, why I'd have no use for the foul prat!"
There were many shocked and surprised whispers and even a few gasps among the listeners, which was just about everyone in the place. Harry even heard one It can't be!
George cracked a smile. "Isn't that right, Cap'n?"
Mortified, Harry sneaked a peek at his friend on the stepstool, only to find the whole gathering looking at him. He swiped his hair over his forehead, but it was too late.
"It's him! It's Harry Potter!"
At once, Harry was surrounded and shaking countless hands that didn't seem to be attached to any particular face. Everyone was greeting him at once and Harry felt thrust into the spotlight. He was mobbed, but managed a glance over at Ron, who was grinning.
"Hi ya, Harry!" Ron yelled.
"Hi Ron!" Harry yelled back. When he faced front again, there was George, his hair parted to reveal his forehead, upon which was a lightning shaped scar. Harry was shocked for a moment, and then burst into wild laughter.
George peeled it off, gave it a wave, then stuck it back on and turned to the customers. "Harry Potter scars, only a five Knuts each! They're reusable! The cheapest Halloween costume you can find!"
Fred grinned. "You can have a free one, Harry. On the house!"
Harry laughed. "Thanks, but where would I put it?"
George gave his brother a wink. "Hey Fred, go get it."
Fred disappeared into the back.
George chuckled. “You’re gonna love this."
"Then why am I nervous?"
"Don't worry, Harry! It won't hurt much. You'll recover in a few days."
Fred reemerged and laid something on the counter. Ironically, it was frame shaped.
Harry picked it up and was laughing in an instant. It was a wizard photograph, the kind that moved, and the scene played over and over. Harry laughed until his words were choked with giggles and his stomach was on the verge of cramps. "This... is… the funniest thing...I've ever seen!" He watched the picture again and again as he and Malfoy raced toward the grass at lighting speed. Harry's image pulled up, but Malfoy and his Firebolt exploded into the ground in a cloud of dust and broom shards, then started again from the beginning.
Fred pulled out his wand and tapped the frame. "Audio!"
The excited voice of Lee Jordan boomed from within the picture. “Harry Potter ANNIHILLATES Draco Malfoy with the Wronski Feint! Harry Potter RULES!”
Ron shouted over his shoulder as he rang sales and gave change. "I told you you'd like it, Harry! I laughed for days!"
Fred leaned in, as if in confidence. "A friend of mine took that. He put a spell on it. It'll never stop replaying itself. It really aught to put Malfoy in a state."
Harry was still flushed from laughing. "I love it! And to think, I was certain I’d need the apothecary when I left here."
George beamed with pride. "That was the greatest moment in the history of Quidditch! Good thing we made plenty of copies! We’re selling them for six Knuts each." He turned and raised his voice. "Watch the greatest Quidditch player at Hogwarts perform the most dangerous maneuver in the history of sports!"
Fred chimed in. "And the fellow on the ground finally gets his come-uppance!" Fred turned back to Harry. "We could make a fortune off you!"
"Glad to be of service, gentlemen, but I must be going. I've some landscaping jobs lined up and I still have a few stops to make. The place is great! Thanks for the picture!"
"Same to you, Cap'n!" The twins stood at attention and gave him a military salute, as usual.
Harry waved and left the store wearing an enormous smile.
* * *
Harry spent over an hour in one of the mall's specialty stores, selecting what he'd come for with care. He left having spent more than forty percent of the contents of his bank account, which should have concerned him a great deal, but the only things he felt were hope and elation. It was an old-fashioned, Muggle gesture, but it was worth it.
The long drive home was pleasant, if not a little brisk, but Harry didn't notice. He'd taken to playing the stereo very loud and had bought a second-hand Beatles CD, which he listened to most of the time. His thoughts were trained on the future, of spending his last year at Hogwarts with the girl he loved and his two best friends. Of yet another triumphant season of Quidditch, graduation and the freedom that came with it. And of the box on the seat beside him.
His thoughts went farther, to sharing the little cottage with Sara while the house they dreamed of came to fruition only meters away. He wondered what sort of work he would be doing by then and imagined himself making loads of money. He smiled as he envisioned their wedding day, with all their friends in attendance and smiles on their faces, Sara radiant in a beautiful white gown. The threat to her vanquished.
* * *
Friday arrived and Harry made his last bank deposit. Mr. Spaulding at the office had shaken Harry's hand and asked him to return at the end of the school year for permanent employment in the company. The man who'd once glared at Harry with distrust even promised a more befitting position with a wage to go with it. Harry was most pleased and thanked him, but knew he would never see Mr. Spaulding again. He would say goodbye to this particular section of England the next morning and, hopefully, never return.
The send-off they gave him at the market was rather touching and Harry found he was sad to be leaving. At break time, he wandered into the staff room only to find the other employees he worked with, even those who had the night off, as well as the manager and several cashiers waiting. They'd brought a cake and threw him a little good-bye party.
Arriving back at four Privet Drive, Harry by-passed the kitchen and went straight to his room where he found Hedwig returned and a note from Sara on the desk. There was a letter from Bill Weasley, too, and a strange bird in Hedwig's cage.
Harry was annoyed by the presumptuous bird and felt bad for Hedwig. Who knows how long she’d been resting on the chair, afraid to enter her cage? "Why don't you just make yourself at home?"
"Make yourself at home!" the bird repeated, squawked, and then said the phrase a second time. Harry laughed and his attitude toward the multi-colored spectacle lightened. It resembled a parrot, though not a breed he'd ever seen. He wondered where Bill had acquired it and decided to read his correspondence first. He'd written more than a week ago and had been awaiting Bill’s reply with something akin to impatience.
Dear Harry,
It was nice of your girlfriend to lend you the owl. Unfortunately, it died. The poor thing barely made it here and I did my best to care for it, but it eventually succumbed to exhaustion and the malady that caused it. I had to send Topenga in its place. Please give Sara my apologies and the replacement bird. She eats parrot food.
Thank you for the pictures. I was shocked by Hermione's appearance. I don't remember her being so pretty! What did she do to her hair? Didn't she have buckteeth? It can't all be spells, can it? We both know it isn’t my brother’s influence. Rather odd pair, aren’t they? And then there's your Sara. Wow, Harry! I’m impressed! She's quite the looker. You should be proud of yourself!
The four of you together in your proper evening attire make a rather attractive group! I wish I could have been there. Fleur and I would have been the perfect compliment ha ha.
The Quidditch pictures are just great! I swear, the lot of you look so happy; I can't help but grin while looking at it. Makes me want to jump on a broom for old times’ sake. I really miss those days. Congratulations on yet another win, you deserve it! Congrats as well on making captain, though I don’t know how you kept the twins in line for an entire season. The Slytherins must be “green” with envy ha ha.
As for your questions, Harry, I have to admit, I was never good with the long-term aspect. I'll do my best, but I doubt I'll be much help. Women are complicated. That is a well-known fact, but there are simple rules to follow.
1. You'll never talk her into or out of something once she's made up her mind, so learn to compromise. They respond better to that. Also, she'll change her mind so many times it'll make your head spin.
2. Choose your words carefully. They're sensitive and, once you've said the wrong thing, you can't take it back.
3. Be honest and sincere. (No doubt you are.) Regaining the trust of someone you love is incredibly difficult. Deception of any kind lingers in the back of her mind long after she’s forgiven you.
4. Give her the space she needs. You were right about not wanting to push her. Regrets can be the downfall of even the closest relationship.
She keeps changing her mind because she's afraid of that very thing. You have proven perceptive in that respect. You listen to her. She loves you, wants to take your relationship to another level, and is, in a sense, trying to push herself into something she isn't ready for. As difficult as it can be, especially for a teenager, you have no choice but to be patient.
It was a good idea, suggesting she talk to Mum. Sara feels lost without her own and, even though she shows adult restraint and reasoning, she needs guidance. You do as well, and I wish I could ease your mind, but this is the extent of my knowledge. You're a good, moral person, Harry. You're doing just fine. Sara will be lucky to have you as a husband.
Congratulations on the purchase of your property! How exiting for you both. The house you envision sounds great and I promise to visit you there next time I’m home. I'll look forward to it.
Bill
Harry's spirit lightened even more. Bill’s advice helped set him at ease. He was doing things right, it seemed, and Sara was feeling lost and uncertain. Thinking of Sara, he opened her letter.
Harry,
We'll see each other tomorrow at last! Can you believe our wait is finally over? Are you as excited as I am? I have to admit, the prospect of going to classes with the other students instead of following them on the map or watching them wander the grounds from the roof of the tower fills me with anticipation. I also love the idea of seeing you during the day and in a more social setting. You have to agree, the whole Rapunzel thing was a little strange. Being so removed, yet so close.
I have been thinking about the "advancement" of our relationship, but I fear I'm still not ready. I have so many personal issues I need to work out. Only now that I've been apart from my Riesling and no longer preoccupied with my "imprisonment," have I really started to deal with the death of my parents. For so long, I tried to pretend it didn't happen and pushed away my grief, allowing only brief moments of understanding. I have found that deciding to create a more powerful bond with someone I love while coming to grips with such a tremendous loss is overwhelming and lends to my confusion. I know it is frustrating for you, as it is for me too, but I ask that you give me a little more time. I know you understand and I am grateful.
I also have to admit that what happened to Ron and Hermione has left me terrified. I've tried to rationalize it, knowing you and I will do things right when the time comes, but it has put a fear in the back of my mind. The same thing almost happened to us! If I hadn’t fallen asleep, I believe it would have. The thought scares me. I don't want a moment of poor judgment to jeopardize the life we will have together. We'll talk more when you arrive.
Park the car at King's Cross Station, put the keys in the glove box, set the alarm and lock the doors. I have arranged for a rental agent to pick it up there. I hope you enjoyed it. We'll buy a new convertible after graduation and you can drive me around in it.
Brad Silverman, my barrister, tells me we will be closing on the property in about a week! I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself! Imagine… a big empty lot. The plans we can make! We'll spend all year designing.
Anyway, don't bother to respond tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. ( !!! )
Love Always, Sara
Harry put the letters into his trunk with mixed feelings. He was excited to see Sara, couldn’t wait in fact, but she was so troubled. Should they lighten their relationship until she was more stable? He wanted to be sensitive and considerate, he loved Sara, but what she described could take years. Harry sighed. There was nothing he could do. He would wait forever if she asked him to.
Harry broke the rules and used magic to create extra space in his trunk. He had to pack everything he owned, not that he required a moving van, but his collection of stuff had grown over the years and, with the clothes Sara bought him, it was impossible to get it all in.
Closing the lid, he opened it again to reveal a new set of contents. "Cool," he said and grinned, raising and lowering the lid over and over again. He made one last trip around his room, checking to make sure everything was in the trunk and when he was satisfied that it was, he went down to the kitchen for some tea and a biscuit or two.
Aunt Petunia was still up, and sitting at the kitchen table. A small box near to one hand, a scattering of papers and photographs before her. She looked upset and Harry wondered if he should leave. Hesitating in the doorway for a moment, he’d made up his mind to go back to his room when she spoke.
"Harry?"
"Yes Aunt Petunia?"
"Sit down. I have something for you."
Harry took the seat across from her, unused to the soft tone in her hushed voice. He waited.
"This box came from my mother's house. It's been in the attic for years. I’d forgotten about it, but it belongs to you. Take it with you tomorrow." She got up to leave.
"Wait. What are all these things?"
"They're pictures, obviously. Of my sister and I when we were children. Before all that foolishness started."
"Can't you put all that aside for just a little while? Aunt Petunia, tell me about my mother. The nice things you remember. Anything. Please? I'll make us some tea."
"Well, I don't see what it can hurt. Sit down, Harry. I'll get the tea."
* * *
Harry awoke to the smell of bacon wafting up to greet him in his bed, and his stomach gave a rumble of approval. Slipping on his glasses, he was startled and disoriented at the appearance of his room, empty, except for his trunk and Hedwig's cage. The walls bare. It took a moment to remember that he was leaving today. At last, saying goodbye to the Dursleys, never to return. He would never see this room again. The thought frightened him a little, though it did not make him sad.
Uncle Vernon's booming voice bellowed up at him from downstairs. "Get up, boy! Don't you dare miss that train!"
The train to Hogwarts, Harry thought as an enormous smile planted itself on his face. He would see Ron and Hermione in just a few hours and, awhile after that, they would reunite with Sara.
"I'm up! I'll be right down!" Only part of his mind was on breakfast. The rest was anxious to feel at home in his school uniform and robe, with his wand at the ready instead of crammed, uncomfortable, in his sock. He couldn't wait to walk the halls as a seventh year student. Pulling a light jumper over his head, he made for the door.
In the kitchen, the Dursleys were just finishing and Vernon had taken up The London Times. A plate was set for him and he ate with an insatiable hunger. Dudley's eyes were trained on the TV and Petunia was gathering dishes.
"Hurry up so I can wash the plate."
"I'm almost finished." Harry polished off the scrambled eggs and bacon, gulped down his orange juice, folded his toast in half and ate it in three bites, then handed his plate, glass, and silverware to his aunt, who was rather quiet this morning. Harry couldn't help thinking the memories she'd shared the night before had saddened her a little. He found he almost felt bad for her. She'd been close to pleasant as they'd gone through the old photos and odds and ends in the box.
It perplexed him, confused his emotions, the way she had shown him occasional moments of kindness this summer. Uncle Vernon complimenting his driving, Aunt Petunia giving him mementos of his mother, even Dudley asking to tag along on a weekend trip. They despised him to his very core and he knew it. Perhaps it was just because he was leaving.
"Your train leaves at eleven?"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon. I need to leave soon. I have to make a stop on the way as well. Is there a pet shop near King's Cross, do you know?"
"I believe there's one in that little plaza just before you make the turn."
"Great. Well, I'd better load the car. Thank you for breakfast, Aunt Petunia. I was starving."
She half-smiled. "Best to leave on a full stomach. Dudley, help Harry with his trunk so he doesn't mark up the floor."
For the first time Harry could remember, Dudley didn't argue.
Harry went up the stairs and grabbed a handle, but Dudley stood at the other end of the trunk, making no motion to lift it. Harry straightened. "What?"
"Really, Harry. How did you meet that girl? Did you use magic?"
Harry smiled in spite of himself. He couldn't believe Dudley was asking him about girls. Dudley hated him. "I told you how we met."
"After that!"
Harry smirked as Dudley's face reddened.
"Did you use one of those love potions? Slip it into her drink? I want one if you did."
"I did nothing of the sort! We just have a lot in common. I didn't use any sort of alternative means."
"Could I go to your school? Would they let me in do you think?"
Harry was shocked. After all Dudley's attempts to get his parents to throw Harry out, make him sleep in the yard, or just plain distrust him even more, Dudley wanted to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione.
"I think if your parents heard you say that, we'd both be put through the ringer." Harry grinned. "You have to be invited there. They send letters to people who are... predisposed."
"So all the girls are freaks anyway? Like you?"
"In your world, yes." Harry glanced at the clock and sighed. "Now grab an end."
* * *
"Now remember, Harry, if you show up here next year you won't be taken in! You are your own man now."
"Don't worry, Uncle Vernon. Sara and I have everything worked out and we both have money saved. I won't be back. I can assure you of that."
"Already planning to live in sin, are you?" Aunt Petunia asked. The usual poison was gone from her voice, but still her eyes narrowed as she looked at Harry.
Without a word, Harry rummaged in his bag until his fingers found the little velvet box he'd purchased a week before. He opened it and held it out to her.
"That's very proper of you, but you're young. Don't be so foolish."
"I don't plan to give it to her until school's out." Harry closed the box and returned it to the backpack. "And don't worry, Uncle Vernon. I still have enough saved to get me through."
"I hope so, Harry, for your sake. If you run into trouble, Mr. Spaulding said he'll take you back."
"I have to go now. I don't want to miss the train. Goodbye Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. Goodbye Dudley. Good Luck."
Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Good luck to you, too, Harry. You'll need it, I’m certain of that."
"Stay out of trouble," Aunt Petunia told him. "And treat the girl well."
Harry smiled. "I will. Good bye."
He hurried to the Mercedes and jumped behind the wheel, turning to wave one last time before pulling away from the curb.
As soon as he was out of sight, it was all he could do to keep his exhilaration from spilling out of his mouth. By the time he'd reached the highway, he could control it no longer. He beeped his horn, raised a fist in the air and shouted as loud as he could. "I'M FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"
Harry set the CD to play Revolution, turned it up as loud as it would go and sang along, a huge grin on his face and all the dimness gone from his heart. He was free.
* * *