Vial Of Immortality

Chapter I - The Incessant Tapping

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The boy in the smallest bedroom at 4 Privet Drive turned away from the window. His head was aching. Not from the foreboding feeling he got whenever the Dark Lord was near. No. His head ached horribly because of that dreadful tapping noise something was making at his window.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Why wouldn't it stop? Didn't it know that ignoring it was his absolute intention?

Tap.

Tap.

.........

Ah, finally. The blasted tapping ceased. Finally he could have some peace and...

Taptaptaptaptaptaptap!

Startling awake at the drill-like noise, the unruly-haired boy pulled away his sheets quickly, reached out for his glasses on the bedside table and stumbled out of bed to the window. He rubbed his green eyes and put on his glasses before the picture before him focused properly. "Hedwig?" he yawned, unlocking the latch. The snowy white owl, along with two other owls, was the culprit. "Alright, alright, hush. You don't want to be waking Uncle Vernon, don't you? Get inside, hurry." She flew inside the room, followed by a small white owl with black streaks and Pigwidgeon.

Ron's owl created such a ruckus, Harry Potter was almost sure that his portly uncle would break down his door and kick them all out. What a way to spend his sixteenth birthday. Out on the streets with three owls clucking at his heel. But fortunately, the snores coming from the other side of the room continued.

Sighing, he finally stuffed Pig into the cage with Hedwig, not pleasing her at all. When he reached in to pull the package from her foot, she nipped his finger rather un-affectionately. "Blast it!" he winced. "What a birthday greeting, old girl." She turned away from him and ruffled her feathers. Shaking his head, he took the letter from Pig and the other owl.

Harry sat down on his bed after he put the latch back when the small owl had left. Staring at the envelopes strewn on his bed, he lay against his pillows and sighed. Another year gone by. Voldemort was still at large, wrecking havoc and terror all over the wizarding world, even killing stray Muggle s that happened to witness his executions. 'I feel absolutely horrid about saying this, but I'm glad to have even reached my sixteenth birthday.' he thought.

He shook his head and chuckled. Yes he was indeed lucky to still be alive. "Happy birthday Harry," he muttered to himself, a smile spreading across his more matured face. Harry had grown. Weeks of toiling on the Quidditch field regularly did wonders for his scrawny build and he had nearly caught up with Ron in terms of height, although his red-haired friend still towered over him by a few inches. His hair however, still refused to behave, no matter how hard Harry tried to discipline it.

He picked up the package that Pig had carried. An emblem of two wands with confetti shooting out of it crossed over two Ws told Harry that he had just received a package from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, George's and Fred's joke shop in Hogsmeade. They had told him they set up in Hogsmeade because of the great profit they could earn, but Harry had an inkling it was because they wanted to be nearby to watch over Ron and Ginny. And of course, they would still visit their alma mater for the Quidditch matches, still supporting the Gryffindor team, which Harry now captained.

He smiled again and ripped open the envelope on top of the box.

Harry,

Happy birthday mate! How is your summer? Are the Muggle s treating you well? Anyway, if they aren't, Fred and George gave this to you "just in case". It's bloody brilliant Harry! They'd have been sorry to have messed with you. It's full of- wait, Fred and George told me not to tell you. It's a surprise they planned for you!-- Harry stared uneasily at the innocent looking white cardboard box-- Anyway, my gift is inside as well. It's under all the--oh crud! I can't tell you that as well! Blimey, they still are pains to live with. Anyway Harry, hope you like it.

We owled Dumbledore to ask if it was safe for you to come visit us this summer (“Oh please let it be alright,” Harry pleaded silently) Unfortunately, he reckons it's still unwise for you to travel to any distance, big or small. Next time then?

We'll be going to Diagon Alley the day before the term starts. Hope to see you there!

Ron

Disappointed, Harry let out a sigh. Shame he couldn't visit the Burrow. He had always enjoyed his summer visits to the Weasley household. How were Mr. And Mrs. Weasely doing? Charlie and his dragons? Bill still lurking around Gringott's? How was Percy and his Minister job? Somehow, he had an eerie feeling that Percy would one day be Minister of Magic. He shuddered at the thought.

Harry opened the package carefully and smiled when he saw the contents. They had given him a Weasley's Wizard Wheeze Kit for Obese and Naughty Cousins. Chock-full of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Cockroach Clusters, Acid Pops and dozens of multicolored sweets that Harry wouldn't dare sample, this would surely make the summer more manageable. How Harry wanted to "accidentally" leave them on the ground for his greedy cousin to gobble up. Imagine the look on his face when he popped an Acid Pop into his wide, porky mouth. Unfortunately, the image of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's furious faces as they tossed him out of the house banished any intention of Harry's to give Dudley a "taste" of his own medicine, so to speak.

Underneath the WWW Kit was another box. In messy handwriting, it read: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Kit for Aspiring and Great Wizards Such as Ourselves. It was filled to the brim with Chocoballs, Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, with a few Filibuster's Firecrackers on the side.

Rummaging around, he finally uncovered Ron's gift. It was a set of Chuddley Cannons' bedsheets and pillowcases, very much like Ron's, only black, with orange lining. Tucked into the folds was another note from Ron:

Harry,

I know you like the Cannons as much as I do! Happy summer (I hope)!

Ron

Harry could never like the Cannons as much as Ron did. Frankly, he would never like the Cannons at all. He never understood why Ron idolized them. Nevertheless, he placed them at the foot of his bed and reminded himself to change his sheets first thing in the morning.

Lastly, he carefully opened the envelope that the small white owl had brought in. It bore the Hogwarts seal on the front, and Harry knew this was his enrollment letter, reminding him about September 1st at Platform 9 3/4. Harry's chest tightened. It was then that he realized how much he yearned to return to Hogwarts. Whenever he left Hogwarts, he left his friends and schoolmates, not to mention his favorite game in the world, Quidditch. But he always banished that thought and reminded himself that he would be returning the following term.

Everyone who knew Harry knew he was miserable every summer, except when he could spend it at the Burrow with the Weasley's. The Dursley's were, as Harry put it, "absolutely impossible" to live with. Although they treated him much better now that they knew Harry had a murderous godfather at his beck and call, they still acted quite mean to him.

Harry sighed. This is all Pettigrew's fault. He should be in Azkaban, not Sirius. 'If only we hadn't let go of Pettigrew, Voldemort would not have been able to rise, Sirius would be free… and I'd have had a family…'

He shook his head. He really should stop this habit of his. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Dumbledore had told him, many years back, during their first year, when he found him whiling the night away before the Mirror of Erised. "There is nothing you could do, but look forward to your future and hope for the best. Then, after everything is over, you could look back and smile," Hermione had assured him, late one night, during one of their midnight talks.

He reached for a beautifully wrapped package, the last one. It was bright green, with a copper ribbon encircling it. Not wanting to destroy the attractive wrapping, he carefully untied the bow and unwrapped it. A letter fell into his lap, along with a handsome mahogany album. He opened the letter. The album was from Hermione:

Dear Harry,

Hullo! How is your summer? I hope those Dursleys are treating you well. If not, then I'll just have to curse them. Mind you, I've got half a mind to. Unfortunately, I listen to the other half more often. Ha! That was a joke, need you ask. I'm becoming funnier by the minute, like you suggested, dear Scarface. Gods, I can't believe I'm actually writing these things. Hang on, I'm getting off track. Here's wishing you, Harry Potter, one of my best friends, a brilliant sixteenth birthday. I hope we'll still be friends until your one hundred and seventy-fifth, or even 'til our three-hundredth! And I know you're asking the same question running through my head. Of course we'll still be alive then! We're the most boring people on earth. We haven't got the knack for getting into trouble you know! Hair-raising escapades like going through the trapdoor to come face-to-face with a possessed professor, finding the Chamber of Secrets and defeating a basilisk, going after a man knowing fully well he's an escaped convict from Azkaban and then finding out that he's innocent after all, and participating in the death defying Tri-Wizard Tournament and winning are impossible for us! Ha! Another pun! Jiminy crickets, I'm killing myself! (At this point, Harry was rolling his eyes in exasperation. Hermione could be the most sarcastic witch in all of Hogwarts if she put her mind to it.)

And by the way… technically, we could still be alive then. Wizards and witches have a longer life span than ordinary Muggle s. Dumbledore's a hundred and fifty-one, didn't you know? Ha! There is some good to reading Hogwarts, a History then! Anyway, Ron told me you couldn't come to the Burrow. Quite unfortunate, but it is for the best you know! I would have asked you to come over to our house, but you weren't allowed to go over to Ron's, much less spend a week or two at the most-brilliant-Muggle -born-witch-to-ever-go-to-Hogwarts's house then. Oh well. A pity, definitely.

I do hope you enjoy your present. I owled Colin Creevey constantly the whole summer asking for our snapshots. I reckon he thinks I fancy him. Rubbish, absolutely preposterous rubbish! I'd rather… well, I wouldn't tell you what I'd rather do, just know that it does not involve him!

On a serious note, I do wish you could have spent a few weeks at our humble abode. I miss you loads. I have so much to tell you, and I know there's much you have to tell me. Don't worry. September 1st is looming closer, and so am I.

With love always,
Hermione

PS
I've already gone to get my things at Diagon Alley because I'm going on a little trip on the last weekend before the start of the term. So I won't be seeing you until then.

PPS
I've discovered something, but I can't tell you what it is right now. I'll tell you when I see you. It concerns You-Know-Who.

He reread the last sentence and quirked an eyebrow. Voldemort? What in bloody hell did Hermione's thing have to do with Voldemort? Shaking his head, he resigned himself to the fact that he would find out on September 1st and not any sooner.

Harry flipped through the album. There were pages and pages of pictures of the three of them together, of Harry and Ron, of their other friends and classmates at Hogwarts. “Oh bugger…” he murmured. Waving frantically at him, their faces smiling reminded him that he did have a family at Hogwarts. At the very last page was a picture of Hermione playfully hugging Harry. Beaming up at him, they played around in the photo. Below it, in gold script, Hermione wrote: Scarface and Frizzhead, Friends Forever! He smiled. Their little nicknames for each other. They only used these when they teased each other, and neither took them seriously.

No one could understand him the way Hermione did. Not even Ron. Ron never knew of those times Harry had felt so alone, so weak… so scared. It wasn't that he didn't want him to know… it's just that… he wouldn't understand. Hermione knew and understood very well. She knew just by sensing him. Ever since Christmas last year, they had become closer than ever to each other. He had always looked forward to their nightly chats where he told her of his day and she told him of hers. They told each other everything, absolutely everything. Their hopes, dreams, fears, triumphs, failures, insecurities... They would never ever keep a secret from each other. They felt horrible about keeping things from Ron, but they felt comfortable and safe, knowing that their exchanges never left either of their mouths.

Picking up a quill and a few spare parchments, he scribbled down a few short notes.

Ron,

Thanks for the present! Although I must beg to differ. NO ONE will ever like the Cannons as much as you mate. Would you mind thanking Fred and George for me? Unfortunately, I can't use their Weasely's Wheezes Kit on Dudley. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be fuming. Smoking at the ears, most probably! But their other present is greatly appreciated, thanks! Anyway, it's too bad I can't visit the Burrow this summer. How is your mum and dad? Percy gotten a new promotion? How is Ginny? Heard from Bill and Charlie lately? I've wanted to practice the new Quidditch techniques I've been developing with you. Have you kept in shape Keeper? I reckon I could do with a few training sessions. Blimey, wouldn't Oliver be proud? I'm sounding more and more like him every year.

Anyway, thank you for the present. I reckon I can make it to Diagon Alley a day before the term starts. I'll see you at the Leaky Cauldron!

Harry

After signing his name on Ron's letter, he rolled it up and attached it to Pig's foot. "Go," he whispered to Pig hurriedly, trying to get rid of the over excited bird as quickly as possible. Pig hooted, flapping his wings noisily and creating a racket before flying out the window into the silent night sky. He sighed, thankful to be rid of the owl, then sat back down to begin his reply to Hermione's letter.

Frizzhead,

Sorry, can't write much. I believe I'm going to fall asleep right here and now. By the way, your sarcasm is bowling me over. I can't believe such sincerity pours out of you.

Thank you for the present. I loved it. Colin Creevey huh? I didn't know your preference was for younger boys. I can accuse you of being a pedophile. Seriously, I did love it. And I will treasure it for the rest of my life. And where did you get such a great picture of the two of us? Was that the one Ron took last Halloween? I think it was; there's still some chocolate on your cheek. Yes, I believe so.

It really is too bad that I can't visit Ron's. I wanted to test some new techniques that I've been planning to use during the season. And don't you roll your eyes. You know you like watching Quidditch as much as Ron and I love playing it. And I am truly sorry for not being able to visit you either. (Yes, Hermione, that is a sincere statement, whether you think so or not.)

You're not going to Diagon Alley with Ron and me? It's too bad... a trip eh? Fancy a visit to Bulgaria to see Krum? No really... where are you going? And what is it about Vol, I mean, You-Know-Who that you've found out? Cor, that's a lot of questions.

I'll be seeing you at the Platform on September 1st... take care ‘Mione!

Oh, and I miss you loads too.

Love,
Harry

Harry finished the letter as soon as he could. He wasn't lying when he said he was falling asleep. Trying to entice Hedwig to deliver it for him, however, took much of his discipline and self-endurance. After parting with a civil farewell, Hedwig hooted softly and soared out the window. With a relieved smile, Harry finally closed the latch to the window, climbed into bed, and settled for a peaceful night's rest.

He hoped.