Connections

Chapter 1: Indecision

 

Harry followed Uncle Vernon out of King’s Cross Station towards the Dursley’s waiting car. Uncle Vernon was muttering under his breath about "those weird redheads." As they reached the car, his uncle unlatched the boot and grumbled to Harry, "Hurry along- you’ve wasted enough of my day already."

Harry didn’t argue. His thoughts were not on his uncle or the car- he was still thinking of everything that had just happened. He was thinking about Dumbledore’s words at the final banquet, Cedric’s parents insisting that he take the money, Cho Chang’s grief stricken face, and worst of all, the fact that Voldemort had returned.

All along the drive back to number four, Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon was talking listing all the chores that Harry was to complete this summer, "… the gardens need regular tending and I think it is about time for a new coat of paint on the old house, and I’ll have none of your funny business…" Harry had heard him, but he wasn’t listening- it was the same every summer.

"Boy, are you listening to me? You ungrateful… I asked you if you understood- I expect an answer," his uncle bellowed as he was getting out of the car.

Hedwig screeched as Uncle Vernon slammed the car door, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

"Oh- urm… yes sir- I understand." When did we get here? Harry wondered to himself as he unloaded Hedwig’s cage and his trunk and began to walk up the front path.

His Aunt Petunia came out of the kitchen as he was about to mount the stairs, "Mind the walls- don’t be so clumsy- I know how clumsy you can be. Not like my Dudley he’s so graceful and polite."

"Yes ma’am," Harry said to his Aunt Petunia, but he grinned as he thought about how graceful Dudley was last summer when he tripped over his own feet, smashing a biscuit tin flat in the process.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon continued with their usual litany of all the bad things Harry was, and how wonderful his overweight, bully of a cousin was by comparison. He closed the door to his room, wondering why the usual speech from his Aunt and Uncle didn’t bother him like it used to. He thought to himself, "Maybe it is true- maybe it’s what I deserve," as a vision of Cedric’s lifeless body swam into view.

He unloaded his trunk, putting away his clothes in the armoire, and putting his spell books and other school supplies safely under the loose floorboard on the far side of his bed. He knew the Dursleys usually insisted on taking these things from him so he wouldn’t be able to complete his summer work. They were aware of the rule about underage magic, but the Dursleys didn’t trust Harry to follow it.

Harry went down to the kitchen for dinner and quietly took his usual seat next to Dudley. His cousin hadn’t lost any weight this past year but it didn’t look like he had gained any either. Aunt Petunia was rambling on about how wonderful her little Dudders did at Smeltings, but Uncle Vernon grumbled something about poor grades.

Harry started to grin, but then the horrible images from the day of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament flashed in his head, and the partial grin turned to solemn frown. He finished what he could of his dinner and asked, "May I be excused?"

His uncle coughed on the roll he was eating and said, "Hmm, seems they may have actually taught you something useful at that ridiculous school of yours. Learning good manners is good, especially for someone in your position, orphans rarely make anything useful of themselves. I hope whatever they did to you this year, they do again next year!" Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He certainly didn’t want more of what had happened last year. His stomach lurched as he realized that Uncle Vernon’s wish would more than likely be granted. Well Hagrid said, "what will come, will come." But Harry’s mood darkened. He didn’t want any more to come. He didn’t think he wanted to fight anymore.

When Harry got upstairs, he fed Hedwig a few pieces of food he had nicked from his dinner plate, then climbed into his bed. His sleep was not restful, he tossed and turned as memories of his fourth year at Hogwarts relived themselves in his dream. He woke up sweating, heart racing pictures vivid in his mind of Cedric's death, Wormtail’s shiny new hand, and Voldemort back again. It was all his fault. His stomach lurched again, more violently than it had earlier in the evening and he knew he was going to be sick. He barely made it to the small bathroom down the hall before vomiting the meager meal he had eaten with the Dursleys. He heaved again but he knew his stomach was empty. He couldn’t help wishing he could vomit the memories of what had happened the night of the final task and flush them away with the bits of cabbage and potatoes floating around in the toilet.

Harry knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight and decided that a cool drink of water was in order. He crept down the hall, past his Aunt’s and Uncle’s room, listening for the sound of his uncle’s snoring that rattled the door. He was cautious not to make a sound as he descended the stairs. He stopped in the hallway in front of a door cut at an odd angle to accommodate the rise of the stairs. He opened the door. There were a few more items stored here- more things than when this had been his cupboard, but there was still room enough for him. He reached up to pull the cord of the bare light bulb illuminating the small space. As he stepped inside, he pulled the door shut behind him.

The thought of a cool drink was forgotten as he nestled down in the space in the corner and began to trace the all too familiar cracks in the paint on the wall. "That’s odd," he thought, "of all the times I dreamed of being anyplace other than here, in this spider infested cupboard under the stairs, now I feel at home safe and secure, away from all the evil."

He remembered when he was younger, before he got that letter with the mysterious green script inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Hagrid had come to tell him that he was a wizard, when he was just ordinary, plain "Harry Potter, ungrateful orphan." He thought back to a time when he longed to do something, anything, that would please his aunt and uncle. Back to a time when he thought that this cupboard would be his only room. Back to a time when he dreamed of running away when he was older, leaving the Dursleys and the cupboard behind.

What if he did that? What if he didn’t go back to Hogwarts? He could turn his back, he could live as a muggle. He had done enough yard work to get a job with a gardening company or he could do some other odd job. Perhaps he could earn enough wages to get his own flat- nothing fancy. He was used to the cupboard, he could pretty much live anywhere.

He could be free.

He could forget- Dumbledore, Voldemort, Cedric’s death, Ron and Hermione. He could pretend they were all just characters in the dream that had awoken him this evening. He could pretend his parents were just killed in a horrible automobile accident and not in a blinding flash of green light. He could pretend he was just normal, ordinary "Harry Potter- the ungrateful orphan" as the Dursleys so often called him. Harry Potter the kid who weeded the garden- not the boy who lived.

He started crying. The tears streamed down his cheeks, fogging his glasses. Had he ever cried like this before? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t know why he was crying. Was it all the things that happened this past year and all the years before, or was it the thought of what he might lose if he gave it all up? Were the tears shed for what was, what might have been, or what could be? He didn’t have the answer, and he didn’t want to know.

Sometime in the night, with tears still moist on his cheeks, he fell asleep. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep but it was the most sleep he’d gotten in almost a year. He was startled awake by the thundering footsteps of his uncle coming down the stairs. He could hear that he was angry, yelling about something, then he discerned his own name. He stretched. His muscles were sore from sleeping in such an awkward position for so long. He reached up and quickly shut off the light so as not to alert his uncle of his presence in the cupboard. He liked his cupboard well enough but not enough to be locked in it all summer.

After his uncle walked past the cupboard door, he silently slid out. He stopped to grab the broom and dust pan just as his uncle returned to the hallway. "Where have you been? Oh, your getting to work, I see. Well, good, get along now, there’ll be no lazing about this summer." Harry headed up the stairs and snorted softly under his breath, "Since when have I ever lazed about in this house. I have always been busier than a house elf."

"What was that boy?" his uncle called from downstairs.

Harry answered, "I said, ‘yes sir I was just going to clean up my room myself’."

"You’re darned right you’ll clean your own room, no maid service in this home," his uncle replied as he went back to the kitchen and his morning tea and newspaper.

Aunt Petunia nearly ran into her husband as she came into the hall to add, "And don’t take too long up there. The front garden needs to be weeded and pruned and I expect you to be done before your uncle gets home from work this evening."

Harry spent the next few weeks cleaning and working around the Dursley’s home. He hadn’t really thought about Hogwarts, the wizarding world or even his best friends, Ron and Hermione since the night he spent in the cupboard under the stairs so he was a little bit startled when he was awoken one morning by a frantic tapping on his bedroom window. He looked up to see a small feathery blur outside his window, and laughed at himself for startling so easily as he let Pigwidgeon, Ron’s elf owl, into his room.

"Settle down, let me get the letters, will you," he said as he wrestled the hyperactive bundle of energy for the two pieces of parchment attached to it’s leg. Once free of the burden of the letters, Pig flew to Hedwig’s cage for water. Hedwig looked at Harry, annoyed by the intrusion, but permitted the small owl to drink.

Harry sat back down on his bed to read his letters. He smiled as he opened the first of the two pieces of parchment and instantly recognized Hermione’s neat, measured script.

Dear Harry,

I haven’t heard from you since school. I hope that the Dursleys aren’t being too dreadful. I am going to be leaving for Paris this weekend but only for a week. Then, I will be going to the Burrow to stay with the Weasleys while my parents travel on a second- honeymoon cruise. I am not going to visit Viktor as planned, with all that has happened, Mum and Dad do not think it is safe for me to travel. To be honest, I don’t really want to go. I haven’t bothered to fill Ron in on the decision- you should have seen the letter he sent telling me I had no business going to see Viktor. The nerve he has- well he can just fret for a while longer. Oh I’m sending this letter with Pig. Ron sent him to me with both of our letters. Ginny had wrote to me a week ago and sent the letter with Errol. Poor thing is almost dead. Mum took him to the vet here and he said the only thing that could be done was to make him comfortable. So when you write back just send my letter to The Burrow, and please send word about Errol. I will bring the poor bird when I go there. Harry, maybe you and I can pool our money and purchase the Weasleys a new owl- you know, as a sort of thank you for all the times we have stayed with them. I hope you are doing well and hope you get to come to the Weasleys soon too.

With love- Your friend,

Hermione

"Yes," thought Harry, "I can certainly get a new owl for the Weasleys." He cringed a little thinking about his vault deep beneath Gringotts, filled with wizarding money, and the Weasley’s empty vault, "That would be a nice thing to do, if I go back."

Harry sighed and opened the next piece of parchment, laughing at how different the handwriting of his two best friends was, as he looked down at Ron’s messy scrawl and began to read.

Harry,

Hey mate. What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in a bit- hope the Dursleys don’t have you locked up in the cupboard again. Don’t worry, Mum and Dad are working on something with Dumbledore.

Can you believe Hermione? She is actually still considering going to visit Krum. I can’t believe she would do such a thing after what all he did.

Ginny says hi- she had written a note but Errol never came back from Hermione’s (the old thing is probably dead somewhere) and she refused to send it with my letter. I think she thought I would read it first- hey, it’s my owl. I need to know what he’s carrying.

Oh I almost forgot, Hermione is coming here some time this summer, her parents are going on a cruise or something. Cool huh?

Well got to go.

Ron

Harry laughed again as he folded up both letters and put them under the loose floor board. He removed fresh parchment and ink to write a letter in return.

Ron,

I received your note and one from Hermione. She said to let you know that Errol is at her house and not doing well. She plans to bring him with her when she goes to The Burrow, if he makes it. I wouldn’t worry too much about her and Victor Krum- even if it was safe for her to travel there, I don’t think she wants to see him all that much. The Dursleys have been ok. I’ve been busy- working a lot. It’s not so bad- it keeps my mind off of things, if you know what I mean. Tell your parents not to go to too much trouble on my account- I’m fine, really.

Harry

P.S. Tell Ginny I said hi back.

He returned his quill and ink to the hidden spot and attached the note to Pig’s leg and sent him on his way. He dressed in old- well older clothes- and headed downstairs. Today, he would be painting the exterior of number four Privet Drive.

After a long day of working, he showered and headed to his room. When he entered, there was the a tapping at his window. He opened the window to allow one of the school owls to enter his room. "That’s strange," he thought, "it’s too soon for a supply list- well, let’s see what it is." He removed an envelope from the leg of the owl perched on his desk. As soon as he pulled his hand away the owl swooped out of the room, not even waiting for a snack. Harry looked at Hedwig and laughed. She looked offended by the slight of attention from the school owl.

The writing on the envelope was a sparkling blue ink. Harry grinned because it reminded him of Dumbledore, for some reason. When he opened the envelope and looked at who it was from, the smile broadened. It was from his headmaster and now Harry realized why it reminded him of Dumbledore- the ink was the same color as his eyes.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I trust that you are doing well at the Dursleys and completing your school work. The Weasleys and I have arranged for you to travel to the Burrow on Sunday morning. The fire place of number four, Privet Drive will be connected to the Floo system on Sunday morning for fifteen minutes only. It will open this Sunday at 7:00 am and close promptly at 7:15 am, so mind that you are ready to leave. If the Dursleys give you any trouble about leaving their home, send Hedwig to me. Enclosed you will find a small packet of Floo powder to use for your trip to the Burrow.

Enjoy your summer, Harry.

Professor A. Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

So this is what the Weasleys were planning. Harry knew he wouldn’t have any complaints from the Dursleys.I’ve already completed all the work on the list of chores for him to do this summer, and besides, I don’t intend on telling them. He wasn’t sure if he was going to the Burrow at all, but he knew now that by 7:15, this Sunday morning, he would no longer be here either. He had less than 33 hours to make his decision. Would he go to the Burrow and the Weasleys, back to Hogwarts and the wizarding world, or would he leave the Dursleys, and his life among the wizards behind forever? Would he throw the handful of powder into the fireplace or walk out the front door of number four, Privet Drive and run away as he had started to do two summers ago?

The next twenty-four hours passed uneventfully, but slowly. He waited in his room on Saturday night until he heard the rhythmic reverberations of his uncle’s snoring and then began to pack his things, what little he had.

Before leaving his room, he wrote a note to his Godfather.

 

Sirius,

I hope that you are doing well. I have been busy at the Dursleys, but it’s been okay. Dumbledore has arranged for me to travel to the Burrow earlier than expected this summer. Please send Hedwig to the Weasleys after you receive this note, as that is where I should be by the time you get this. Thanks for everything.

Your Godson,

Harry

He nuzzled Hedwig as he attached the note to his Godfather. He wasn’t sure where he was but Hedwig always found him. "All right my girl- you bring this note to Sirius then he’ll be sending you on the Weasley’s home." The snowy owl looked warily at him. Did she suspect his plans? "Now if anything happens and I don’t show up, you stay with the Weasleys. They could use some help with Errol sick and you know Pig isn’t a proper post owl. Now, go on girl." Hedwig hesitated, nuzzled Harry again, and flew off to his Godfather. Harry watched her until he could no longer see her- then wondered if he would ever see her again.

He sat down and wrote another note- this time for the Dursleys. He thanked them for their kindness in taking him into their home and informed them of what Dumbledore had arranged. "That will take care of things either way," he said to himself as he folded the note and gathered his things once more.

He carefully and quietly brought his trunk down the stairs. He left Hedwig’s cage on his desk. He couldn’t bring it and the trunk in the Floo channel and he wouldn’t need it if he was living as a muggle. When he arrived into the parlor, he placed his trunk in front of the fireplace and set out to locate tools to remove the screen the Dursleys had put up after the last time the Floo system was used in their home. He tried to keep the room as neat as possible as he worked quietly. He went outside and collected a few branches from the pruning and set them in the grate for the morning.

He set a small alarm clock to ring at 6:45 a.m. - enough time to get a fire going. He sat down on the sofa to think of what he would do. He had less than eight hours to make his decision. Sometime later in the night, he drifted off to sleep and dreamed, the first time he had dreamed since his first night back at Privet Drive. This time, his dreams weren’t haunted by dead Hogwarts’ students and evil dark wizards. This time, his memories were pleasant -getting his first Hogwarts letter that announced he was a wizard and would escape the Dursleys, meeting Ron and Hermione on the train and several other adventures, and just time spent with his two best friends, flying on a broom for the first time and in many Quidditch matches, Draco as a ferret, Hagrid’s hearty laugh, the friendly twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye, even stern looks from Snape and McGonagall left him feeling happy. He felt the motherly love from Mrs. Weasley’s tight hugs, the comfort to know that Sirius, his Godfather, may soon be his legal guardian. All these things rushed and tumbled through his dreams. He was only disturbed by the persistent beeping of the small digital alarm clock announcing to the world that it was now 6:45 a.m.

He sat up and quickly silenced the alarm. He sighed as he started the fire in the hearth of the newly opened fireplace. He sat back and watched the green luminous numbers of the alarm clock change as the time did. What would he do? Could he face being the cause of more deaths? The minutes ticked slowly- 7:00, …7:05, …7:10…

He picked up his trunk standing it on end and stepped up to the small fire holding a fist full of Floo powder. "There is no turning back now," he said to himself as he looked up at the clock that now read 7:13. He took another step forward still not knowing what he would do. He threw the powder into the fire and watched as it turned a now familiar green signaling its connection to the Floo system.

Harry sighed, a tear fell from his eye as he said, "The Burrow!"