Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch

Harry sighed, once more in the care of his aunt and uncle, once more in Dudley's second bedroom, once more bored out of his mind, trying to decide what to do next to keep himself busy.

Well, a nagging voice inside him said, that History of Magic essay isn't going to write itself, and there's still some Charmwork to catch up on...

Well, an annoyed voice started in, how am I going to do Charmwork? I'm not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts.

Harry sighed again. Now he was arguing with himself, and that couldn't be a very good thing.

A loud knock on the door startled Harry out of his reverie.

Uncle Vernon burst through the door. "Come on," he grunted, "we're going."

"Going where?" Harry asked, sitting up on his bed.

"Dudley's taking his driving exam," Uncle Vernon said proudly, drawing himself up to his full height. "And you're coming with us," he added, "whether we like it or not."

Oh, goody, thought Harry as he pulled on his trainers. Now I get to die young in a tragic car accident.

This thought sparked a whole line of new thoughts. He wished he hadn't even thought about dying young.

Don't think about Sirius, he told himself. Don't think about death.

Harry shook his untidy bangs out of his eyes and tried to get his mind off the subject.

He stomped down the staircase and found himself walking straight into his Aunt Petunia.

"Do something about that mop," she demanded, casting an angry glare at Harry's hair.

"I can't," Harry replied as calmly as possible. Did his aunt really think his hair would lie flat, after all the times she had tried to cut it, brush it, and mousse it, to no avail?

"Here he is!" squealed Aunt Petunia, watching Dudley meander in from the kitchen with a tearful gleam in her eye. "My little Diddy-Popkins, what a grown-up he's become!"

Harry made a strained noise in his throat, trying not to burst into laughter. Dudley glared at him.

"I don't see you taking a driver's exam," he muttered haughtily under his breath as Petunia turned the other way to fix Vernon's tie, muttering vaguely about needing to look their best to impress the instructor.

"That's because I don't need to drive, you dolt," Harry replied in a near whisper. "I can always just fly."

A nerve in Dudley's jaw twitched. "You can't fly," he said, chuckling uneasily.

"Of course I can, I've got a broomstick," Harry said, a little louder than he needed to.

Petunia gasped and stiffened. Vernon turned a delicate shade of blue and tugged at his tie. He glowered at Harry as if he'd like nothing more than to throttle him right then and there, but was fighting hard against himself from doing it. He obviously hadn't forgotten Mad-Eye Moody's comment the day the Dursleys had come to retrieve Harry from King's Cross.

"We'll have none of that while Dudley's taking his examination," he told Harry slowly and softly.

"Of course not, sir," Harry replied with mock innocence.

"I mean it! If you try to --" Uncle Vernon looked wildly around, then lowered his voice. "If you try to do... things... while Dudley's driving, you mark my words... there will be hell to pay..."

"I would never do such a thing, sir," Harry said, with his same innocent tone.

"Good," Vernon said curtly. "Now that we've had that settled, we'd better hurry along."

Harry followed the Dursleys onto the porch, watching a bragging Uncle Vernon pat Dudley on the back and say loudly, "Dudders, if you pass your driving exam" -- he added extra emphasis to this word -- "perhaps I'll let you drive us all home!" Vernon laughed heartily and pat Dudley on the back with a huge thwump.

This should be extremely interesting, Harry thought to himself.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry stayed true to his word and resisted the temptation to hex Dudley while he chauffeured the four of them -- Harry, Vernon, Petunia, and the instructor -- around the testing track.

But Harry had different reasons to hex Dudley than he had thought. Instead of trying to mess up Dudley, he felt the strong urge to help Dudley.

Dudley was doing an awful job from the start. He spent ten minutes stomping on the accelerator before he realized he hadn't even turned the key. He waited to the last second to make a turn, the tires screeching, everyone else being tossed from side to side. He tended to veer off onto the sidewalk and knock over the cardboard trees.

But the worst part of all was when he tried to parallel park. He tried to park in the middle of street, rear-ending another student. She jumped out of the car, swearing and flailing her arms around, nearly in tears when she broke the news that she had broken a perfectly manicured nail.

Naturally, Uncle Vernon drove the car home.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry threw himself facedown onto his creaky old bed, hoping against hope that Hedwig would fly through the window at the next moment, a letter in her beak, bearing wonderful news that Ron would come to pick him up the next day.

He lay still, listening to Uncle Vernon's angry protests, often hearing "that damned teacher hadn't a clue what he was doing," or "I just know Potter's behind this, I'll kill him!", all in all complaining of Dudley's failure and/or Harry's existence.

Harry looked out the window, praying for Hedwig to come back with something, anything, to cheer him up.

He sat waiting and watching for another hour.

Another two hours, still nothing.

The sun had set an hour ago, and still no sign of Hedwig. Several times, a pigeon passed Harry's window, and he sat up, hoping his eyes had decieved him, hoping it was really an owl coming this way.

Harry gave up hope. It was nearly 8 o'clock. If Hedwig hadn't come by now, she wouldn't be coming at all.

Harry lay motionless for some time, his eyes closed, his brain oddly empty, when something flashed through his window and hit Harry's closet with a bang.

"Pig?" Harry whispered, excitement mounting in him. This was it, this was Ron's letter, freeing him from the Dursleys, who were just feet below, watching television in their living room.

The tiny owl hooted pitifully. Harry scooped him up, and took the letter attached to Pig's leg. He unfurled the parchment and read as quickly as possible.

Harry,

Mum says it's about time for you to be coming over, so Fred and George will be picking you up tomorrow. They came in just a few hours ago to visit, and they'll be staying for a while after you get here.

Mum's furious with the both of them, by the way, but you'll figure that out once you're here.

Be sure to have all your things packed by tomorrow afternoon, round about five.

I can't wait until you're here, Harry, I've got loads to tell you! I can't write everything here, though, 1) because I've got to get this letter sent off as soon as possible and 2) there's just too much to say.

Hope the Muggles treat you all right,

Ron

Harry's heart lightened. His wish had come true, he was leaving the Dursleys the very next day. There was also the prospect of the "loads of things" that Ron had to tell him. Ron seemed ecstatic about something, so he must have some pretty good announcements.

Harry flipped Ron's letter over, grabbed a quill, and scrawled,

Ron --

Thanks so much, you've made my day.

Tell Fred and George to hurry up, tell them to come at six in the morning if they can.

-- Harry

He tied this note onto Pig's leg and sent him off.

A second later, a chestnut brown owl fluttered gracefully in through his window and landed on his shoulder. Harry unfurled this parchment too, finding Hermione's neat writing inside.

Dear Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. Things have been going pretty well for me. My parents and I went to Italy this summer, and also to Papua New Guinea. It's really wonderful there, we had loads of fun.

But I'm sure you don't want to hear about all this fun I've been having, when you're cooped up in there, alone, with your aunt and uncle.

"No kidding," Harry sighed.

Anyway, Ron's just sent a letter, saying he's got "loads to tell". He's clearly excited about something. What do you think it could be?

I'm awfully sorry that this letter's dull, Harry. I don't have anything particular to say, except that I'm very excited about seeing everyone again. I just wanted to see if you're doing okay, and was hoping you'd write back so I'd have something to look forward to for the remaining days before we can actually talk to each other.

Love,

Hermione

Harry read this letter over, then set it down and pondered.

That had been an awfully strange letter. She was looking forward to seeing him? Well, of course, we're friends after all, Harry thought. But she seemed to have blabbered on and on about nothing, just so she could get a response from him.

Maybe she's just lonely... I know how that is.

Harry flipped over this letter too and wrote,

Hermione --

Things are going okay. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I can't wait to see you and Ron, either. I'm going to The Burrow tomorrow sometime in the late afternoon. When will you be there?

-- Harry

He tied this letter to the owl's leg and sent him off.

Harry yawned and put his glasses safely on the nightstand, his eyes itching with tiredness, ready to drop off to sleep at any moment....

His head drooped onto his pillow... he involuntarily curled up underneath the sheets of his bed... he turned to his other side....

Someone rapped on his window.

Harry growled. He put his glasses back on. "Can't even get one minute of sleep," he muttered, moving to open the window.

He blinked at the person before him. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing.

"Hermione, why are you sitting on my windowsill?"

"I brought a few friends with me if you don't mind," she said happily, pushing herself through the open window. She motioned to people unknown, then sat on the foot of Harry's bed.

"So... how've you been, Harry?" she asked him, rummaging through Harry's desk.

"All right, I suppose..." Harry replied, watching her invade his privacy.

"Good summer so far?" Dean Thomas asked, examining Harry's feeble attempt at decorating his tiny room.

"Not bad," Harry said, bemused, watching a whole line of people climb through his open window.

"Oh, Harry, I adore your room," Cho Chang breathed, coming up to him and putting her hand on his arm.

For some reason, this meant nothing to him. What meant even more to him, strangely, was what Hermione would think, had she been watching this play out, instead of pulling things out of his desk drawers and piling them on the surface. Then he wondered why he cared what Hermione thought.

Harry pushed Cho's hand away and watched as she dissolved into thin air.

"When's the next D.A. meeting?" Ginny Weasley asked, lacing her fingers with Dean's casually.

Harry felt his face burning. "I dunno, I haven't drawn up a schedule..."

"Well, you'd better hurry up and make one," Ron said, putting his arm around Hermione's waist.

"Yeah, I told all the D.A. members that I'd write to them over the summer and let them know the next time we would meet," Hermione added, her head resting on Ron's shoulder.

A strange, fleeting emotion boiled inside Harry. The next thing he knew, he had leaped at Ron and had him in a headlock.

"Harry, what are you doing?!" Hermione cried, uncharacteristically dissolving into tears on the floor.

"Gerroff me!" Ron shouted, trying to push Harry away. "Gerroff!"

"Get him, Harry!" Luna Lovegood cheered, doing twirls around his room.

A strong grip caught Harry by the neck of his t-shirt. He spun around, to stare into the eyes of an angry Professor Snape.

And suddenly, he was sitting up in his bed.

"Harry! Good to see ya, mate!"

Everything from the dream scattered from Harry's thoughts, new ones taking their place. He put on his glasses in a hurry and blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Fred, George!" he exclaimed. "What -- what are you doing here? What time is it?"

"Six a.m., mate, like you asked," George said, grinning. "Now, we're assuming all your stuff is in that cupboard again, eh?"

"You assume right," Harry replied as George vanished with a crack. "How'd you get here?" he asked, turning to Fred, who was toying with Harry's miniature Firebolt.

"Apparated, of course," he said in an offhand voice, "but we brought our broomsticks so we could fly back with you," he added, indicating the two brooms propped up against Harry's wall.

George appeared back in Harry's room carrying his trunk and Firebolt.

"Got everything?" he asked Harry.

Of course he hadn't, as he wasn't given any word beforehand. Harry checked every nook and cranny, finally deciding that yes, he had everything.

"Good," Fred said. "Now to pick up Hermione," he said, checking his watch.

He performed a spell to make Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage feather-light, then helped him bind it to the Firebolt. George opened the window with a small screech.

"We'll never fit through this thing," he said.

"Then we'll just have to go out the back door," Fred said as though this were obvious. "Go on, Harry, lead the way."

Harry led the twins down the staircase and into the kitchen. Harry opened the back door, then, making sure they'd all come out, closed it. Checking to see that the coast was clear, the three of them mounted their brooms and sped off towards the rising sun.