Love On Risky Ground

Love On Risky Ground

Chapter 2

Grief

The salvation of the world is in man's suffering.

--William Faulkner 1897-1962

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Harry knelt down on the living room carpet with a wet brush in one hand and some cleaning liquid in a bucket next to him. He looked around, relaxing in the quiet atmosphere as he prepared to scrub Dudley's raspberry soft drink stain off the white carpet. He found himself wishing he could use his wand to clean it up in a matter of seconds. Instead, he amused himself by thinking about Ron, trying to clean the stain in the Muggle way. He would've hated it. Smiling at the mental image, he set to work.

Once he was satisfied with the result, Harry wiped the cleaning froth away and dabbed at the wet carpet. He stood up, looking at the almost-white patch where the stain once was. He hoped that his aunt wouldn't notice it. She was so picky about cleaning, though, that she would probably notice the slightest colour change in the carpet, no matter how hard he scrubbed.

"Ahh, that's good enough," Harry sighed. He blew his fringe away and stretched, relishing the wonderful feeling. He had worked hard all morning, while Dudley had done nothing but sit on his arse in front of the computer all day.

"What's good enough?"

Dudley appeared, walking into the room, eating a sandwich he had made himself. He was dropping as many crumbs on the ground as he possibly could to drive Harry nuts.

His piggy eyes swivelled to the bucket beside Harry. He knew what his cousin was going to do a split second before he did it. Dudley stuck his foot out, lightly touching the rim of the container, and with a push the bucket fell onto its side and rolled. Liquid dispersed out and absorbed into the carpet.

"What is your problem?" Harry yelled in frustration. "I'm trying to do what your mother asked... just let me be!"

"My problem is you."

"Watch your mouth, Dudley!" He unravelled the cloth with shaking hands and threw it over the wet area. Irritably, he retorted, "You're turning sixteen and yet you have the brain of a five-year-old bully." Without his aunt and uncle at home Harry felt as though he could clash with Dudley without being punished.

"And you are a freak in glasses," Dudley said, emphasising the words carefully. He laughed at Harry's expression of loathing as he sat down on the couch.

"And you are a fat pig that can talk," Harry hissed under his breath.

Dudley didn't hear. "Go get me a drink ...freak," he said, turning on the television.

Harry turned and walked out of the living room. "I've got other things to do. Go get it yourself!" he yelled.

He stormed up the stairs and into his room. He barely noticed the letter tied to Hedwig's leg until she gave a hoot to catch his attention.

He took some scones (compliments of Mrs. Weasley) out of the little compartment under a loose floorboard and helped himself, indulging in their sweet, perfect taste. He had also stored bread and a jar of sweets from Ron in there. Much to his delight, Mrs. Weasley also insisted on sending him a freshly cooked meal each night. How could he resist?

Dudley had been sticking his nose in the door, though, wondering where the delicious smells were coming from. Harry simply shrugged it off and told him that he was losing it, much to Dudley's frustration.

While Harry munched on the scone, he untied the letter from Hedwig's leg, who was glad to have her burden released. The letter was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

Sorry for the late reply, I'm just about to go shopping and I'll get you some food in case your cousin runs out. Ron sent me a letter with Hedwig and he gave me these charmed earrings which sing to me. It's such a sweet gift, but it is beginning to annoy me. But, could you believe it Harry, that in September it'll be six months since we started our relationship?

No, Harry couldn't believe it. He had never thought they would get together. Ron and Hermione seemed so opposite, so guaranteed to get on each other nerves, that one was bound to eventually get killed by the other.

He and Hermione however....

There was something about Hermione that Harry couldn't put his finger on. He felt that he just naturally clicked with her. As Harry pondered a little bit more, he suddenly smiled. He was drawn to her every time they met, because there was something more familiar about her than anyone else - he could see it in her eyes, or so he believed.

He stopped thinking about it, wondering what even possessed him to think like that. He had known, before Ron and Hermione had gotten together, that there had been a growing connection between the two friends.

Harry continued reading.

I can't wait to get our OWL results. I hope I did well. Ron's a little apprehensive about the results, but I keep telling him he did fine, and you too Harry.

Anyway, I've got to go. Crookshanks is hungry and he's started to rip my pillow apart. We'll see each other soon, at the place we went last year.

Ta-ta

Love from Hermione

Harry folded up the letter and placed it in the secret compartment, thinking how lucky Ron was to have a girl like that. She was their best friend, but to Ron she was much more than that. Although Harry didn't want to think about it, he felt the same way about Hermione. There was no denying that. After his incident with Cho ... he felt better connected to his best friend.

"What's for lunch?" Harry heard his cousin call from downstairs.

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, annoyed. Dudley's wailing had been stressing him out even more than usual. His cousin was getting on his nerves and he was afraid that he was going to end up giving him a broken nose... or worse, use uncontrolled magic and blow him up, like he had done with Aunt Marge.

Harry snorted in laughter for a moment, envisioning himself kicking Dudley, floating slowly through the house, around like a beach ball. But it wasn't a laughing matter. It was a matter that would earn him a deserved expulsion from Hogwarts (and what a waste of five great but turbulent years of magic that would be).

"I DON'T KNOW!" Harry called back to Dudley, taking out an unshaped pin and bending it so he would be able to open the cupboard under the stairs to get his Charms textbook. Harry badly needed the textbook to study after he forgotten to take it out the first day of the summer holiday. He would open the cupboard when Dudley was asleep. He prepared himself by going over his plan mentally, because one single mistake and he would be the one locked in the cupboard.

That night, Harry waited until he was completely sure that Dudley had fallen asleep, which was easy, as there was no mistaking Dudley's signature snore. It was a deep, voluminous snore his cousin had, sounding like an elephant seal had taken up residence in his bedroom. Harry looked at his illuminated alarm clock (it read one a.m.) and then snuck out of his bedroom, wearing his socks so his feet wouldn't make a single creak.

He carefully walked down the stairs, each step painfully slow so that even the air wasn't disturbed in the slightest, careful to jump the last creaking step. He fingered everything that lay within his grasp so his body did not bump into anything, which would consequently wake his cousin up.

At last, he made it to the cupboard under the stairs. Stage one was complete. Harry pulled out the pin from his pocket and with the aid of his teeth, shaped it into a useable weapon to pick open the lock. He picked it for several minutes, the pin clicking lightly with the metal of the lock. Harry stopped every now and again to hear if his cousin was still snoring... still safe.

The door creaked open and he quickly, but stealthily opened his trunk and yanked out the book and some parchment. He piled them up on the stairs and returned everything into its position, then lightly closing the door before retreating to the refuge of his bedroom.

Harry bolted up the stairs, but once on the landing he noticed an eerie silence and his heart plummeted, turning into ice. His eyes wide, he scanned every direction.

"What have you got there?" Dudley said with narrowed eyes.

Harry heard his cousin speak somewhere in the darkness. Harry had to think fast. "Er... a book, Dudley. You know, those things made of stacks of paper that tells you a story. I doubt you've ever read them."

"Ha, ha! Think you're so funny? Well you're not, freak!" Dudley moved forward into the light, his face the palest blue where a sliver of the moon's rays had escaped from the opened space of Harry's bedroom door.

"Dudley, I was just reading, that's all. And now..." Harry pretended to yawn, his mouth opened as wide as he possibly could. "I'm going to sleep." He opened his door fully while Dudley stared from behind him and shut it.

Dudley smirked. "Have a pleasant nightmare about your boyfriend."

Harry scowled and slammed the door shut in his cousin's face, but he was relieved he had gotten away without any trouble.

***

Piers Polkiss and two of Dudley's other friends, Malcolm Baker and Steven Shaw, who all attended Smeltings, came over day after day. They made Harry suffer their childish pranks. One day, they had managed to tip a bag full of rubbish over his head, all for the sake of their fun.

Harry could fight Dudley when he was on his own, but now he was outnumbered three to one, so he had no chance whatsoever. Whenever he could, he stayed as far away as possible from them, choosing to spend the day in the backyard. He even was so desperate once that he went to Mrs. Figg's place, hoping to stay with her until they had shot off. But he had learned from Ron that she was in Australia, and wouldn't be back until September.

That Saturday afternoon, Dudley and his friends were happily throwing rocks over their neighbours' roofs like a bunch of juvenile delinquents. As Harry had expected, Dudley was never going to be a responsible, civil person like his mother said. Dudley had been spoiled rotten from the moment he was born, and he would never change his attitude.

The laughs and cheers disturbed a relaxing Harry as he lay on his bed. He rolled over and closed his snowy white owl's cage. Hedwig was out on a journey, sending a letter to Hermione. He had asked her if she had any treacle since Dudley had run out of it and he was too lazy to go to the supermarket.

Harry folded his hands over his stomach, listening as the rocks tumbled down the tiles and into the gutters with loud clanks. But his eyes were too droopy and he let them close, falling asleep.

Harry was far away from the Dursleys. He didn't know where he was as he spun around, absorbing the green and blue scenery. He found that he was on a hillside, overlooking a stream and a small waterfall. The water fell without mercy against the weatherworn rocks beneath him and the wind pounded noisily in his ears. Harry turned away from the unfriendly stream and walked down the hill, passing a small well. He spotted a bird in the sky and watched it glide smoothly across the grey heavens, its white body gleaming, almost as if it was metallic. He watched its beautiful shape soar down.

Then Harry realised it was Hedwig.

Hedwig swooped down and he waited for her to land on his outstretched arm. Her talons bared, she hooked onto His arm, her weight burdening him. Harry smiled, welcoming her, and she hooted delicately and nipped his nose in a loving manner.

Then she screeched. Harry looked around, and to his horror Voldemort stood behind him. His snake-like eyes glowed like fire as he sneered, laughing cruelly as he pointed his wand at him.

Harry didn't have a wand to fight back!

"NO!" Harry yelled. Hedwig screeching furiously, her wings flapping in vain.

Harry awoke with a jolt to a deafening screech; it hurt his ears. He took a moment to comprehend where the noise was coming from.

"Hedwig!" he yelled. Harry looked around. The owl was nowhere to be found in his room.

The screeches continued, echoing through the house like terrified screams. He knew with a sickening feeling that something was very wrong with his owl.

Harry ran out of his room to the bathroom window to see what was happening. He saw Dudley and his friends throwing rocks at Hedwig, who was flying in a disorganised manner in and out of a tree. Some of her feathers had pulled free of her body and they glided softly in the air. Bottles of beer littered the ground at the boys' feet. Harry thought they had finally gone too far this time.

"NO, DON'T DO THAT!" Harry bellowed. They didn't listen, ignoring his pleas, enjoying the suffering they were causing. He rushed downstairs to Hedwig's aid.

Just as he stepped onto the porch of the backyard, Dudley aimed and drunkenly hurled another heavy rock at Hedwig. It struck the owl on her head. Horrified, Harry heard a piercing crack. His heart breaking, he watched helplessly as Hedwig bent her wings towards her body with a loud, pain-filled screech and fell towards the earth, hitting the grass with a soft thud. Blood sprayed her white feathers as she flitted on the ground. She screeched in pain again and again while Harry looked on in shock, his cousin and his friends laughing and jeering at the owl's suffering.

"BASTARDS! THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!" Harry screamed.

Dudley, Piers and the others lowered their hands, some still full of stones ready to throw. Their smiles faded as they looked at Harry, running to Hedwig. He knelt before her.

Hedwig feebly opened her mouth and tried to hoot in pain, but she was losing strength so rapidly that not a sound came out. Her large yellow eyes stared at Harry reproachfully, knowing that she was about to die. More blood poured out of a wound from her head; the dark red substance trickling down her feathers without penetrating deeper into her coat. Instead it was repelled and the blood slid down onto the grass.

Harry gently picked her up, hopelessness and grief filling his heart as she slowly slipped away as he held her in his arms. Then, with her eyes and beak wide open as if startled at the last moment before death, she inhaled her last breath and died.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled the bird closer to his chest, huddling her tightly. Grieving silently, he wished she would come back to him. He wished Fawkes was with him so that his phoenix tears could heal her, but it was all too late.

"YOU'VE KILLED MY OWL!" Harry finally shouted. "I hope you never forget this; and I will make sure that you never forget killing Hedwig. I'll make sure."

"Harry---" Dudley began.

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME!" Harry roared into the cold rain. Filled with anger and grief, almost insane with it, the rage built in him until the windows of the house suddenly exploded in a shower of glass. Dudley and his friends scattered apart, missing the glass, and ran into the house; closing the door behind them. Harry fell to the ground, mourning and silently sobbing.

He shook on the spot silently; rain soaking deeper into his clothes. Yet, Harry still held the bird firmly. It was just too much for him.

In that moment, Harry hated everything about himself. He wished he had died when his parents were killed on that dark Halloween night or even better ... he wished that Voldemort had chosen Neville instead. It would've been less torturous and painful. But Harry had to live and grow into a man, bearing more scars than anyone he'd ever known. Harry nearly went over the edge at the thought that more people he loved might continue to die at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry stayed with Hedwig's dead body in the cold, heavy rain until the dead of night. Occasionally, a lighting bolt slithered across the dark sky like a serpent in the heavens. He buried
Hedwig and stayed at her grave, freezing and soaked in the rain. Harry shivered as pitiful moans escaped his mouth as he cried, hoping it was a dream.

For the first time in his life, he wished he was just a normal, regular Muggle, with a family that loved him, where he could look forward to the next day without worry. He wished he went to a normal school and had a normal job. He wished that he was never born a wizard, a wizard with many enemies from the moment of his birth.