Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER ONE -- The Heat

The sun beat down mercilessly on the parched square gardens and scorching black pavement of Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Most of the residents of Privet Drive were carrying out their summer rituals, safely entombed in their respectable square houses, enjoying what little relief the cool interiors might afford them. Only one resident was not staying inside like a normal person, but then, Harry Potter could hardly be considered normal by Privet Drive standards.

At the moment, Harry was lying quite still under a large shade tree in the play park at the end of Magnolia Road, his long, somewhat gangly legs stuck out in the grass, and hands resting under his untidy mop of black hair. He had taken off his round rimmed glasses and was staring up at the blurred shapes of the big heavy branches and still green leaves above him. This was how he had spent most of his afternoons in the weeks he'd been back at the Dursley's for the summer. His family, such as it was, had decided that they wanted nothing to do with him, which suited him fine. They had taken to ignoring him as much as humanly possible, except to ask him to pass the salt at the dinner table, tell him to do his chores, or remind him to write to his friends in the wizard world to let them know he wasn't being mistreated. Apparently the thought of Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley descending on Private Drive to inquire as to Harry's wellbeing had given them quite a new interest in his correspondence.

Indeed, this summer on Privet Drive had easily seen the fewest rows with his family since he had first found out he was a wizard and gone away to Hogworts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry five years ago, but the change hadn't made Harry's life there much better. Occasionally, he found himself longing to pick a fight with his cousin Dudley or Uncle Vernon, just to have something to occupy his mind and distract him from his own thoughts. Wisely however, he'd so far decided against it.

Each day was pretty much like the last. After breakfast he washed up the dishes and then went up to his room and either lay on his bed staring at a book (without ever really reading) or staring out the window. After lunch, his aunt and uncle would settle down in the parlor to have a good long chat, complaining to one another loudly about the heat, which Harry could take for only so long, and he'd sneak out the kitchen door and head down to the play park where, as today, he would invariably lie under a shady tree and try not to think.

But the thing he'd discovered about trying not to think was that it was about as easy as trying not to breathe. The things he longed to forget, like Lord Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and prophecies, and a mysterious arch with a black veil that whispered at him, continually swirled about in his mind uninvited and unwanted.

Occasionally, the monotony would be broken by a letter from his best friends Ron and Hermione, but even they had very little of interest to say. Hermione was on holiday with her parents in Sweden, and Ron and his little sister Ginny had been staying with their brothers Fred and George at their flat in Diagon Ally while their parents did mysterious and top secret things for the Order of the Phoenix. Apart from the postcards of pristine Alpine lakes and the tales of new joke shop items gone awry, neither of his friends had anything very interesting to say. Harry had gotten a note from Ron only the day before, but hadn't bothered to write back to him. What was there to say? Glad to hear you're having a good summer. Me, I'm doing swell. Just worrying about the murder I'm meant to commit, but other than that...

Harry shook himself and sat up abruptly. If there was one thing he was avoiding thinking about above all others, it was that.

"Oh good," said a voice from somewhere to his right, "I was beginning to think you might be dead." Harry swung around to squint in the direction of the voice as he pawed the grass beside him for his glasses. Someone was sitting on one of the swings nearby. Finding his glasses at last, he shoved them on his face, and found himself staring at a girl he'd never seen before. She was sitting in the swing swaying back and forth slightly, her long tan legs dangling in the dust, one slender tanned arm crooked around the chain. She put her head to one side and smiled at him.

"Hi," she said. He blinked at her. She had wavy blonde hair pulled back on one side with a sparkling hairpin to reveal a two inch wide streak of shockingly pink hair that fell neatly around her oval face. She had on a black tank top with rhinestones on it and a pair of denim shorts. He was sure he had never seen her before. He would have remembered.

"Hi?"

She got up and walked towards him her hand held out in front of her. "I'm Gwyn. Gwyn Griffith." Harry shook her hand, still feeling like he might be asleep or dreaming.

"Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you," she said, sitting down cross legged on the grass next to him. She was wearing black flip flops with matching rhinestones on them, and her toenails were painted the same shocking color of pink as her hair. "I was hoping I might find some people my own age around here. I'm visiting my great aunt and, well, she's not the coolest person to hang out with, you know what I mean?" She smiled at him.

"You're American," Harry blurted out. Gwyn laughed.

"Yeah. Was it the accent or the hair that gave me away?" Harry shook his head and blinked again.

"The accent. Sorry. I'm feeling a little..." he paused. "Slow. Must be the heat." She shrugged.

"This isn't so bad really. It's much hotter where I'm from."

"Where's that?"

"Well, my dad lives in Washington D.C., but I go to school in New Mexico."

"Wow," Harry said, immediately wishing he had said something cooler. Gwyn plucked a long blade of grass and begin twirling it around between her fingers. Harry watched, fascinated, and racked his brain for something interesting to say.

"So... do you go to school around here?" she asked, looking up at him through long dark lashes. Her eyes were bright blue. Harry gulped loudly.

"No I go to, uh, boarding school," he finished lamely. He had almost said Hogworts. He realized a bit belatedly that even though he'd grown up with Muggles, he had no idea how to talk to non-magical people any more.

"Oh yeah? Me too. I mean, my dad is sending me to boarding school here in the fall. I can't remember the name of it though." She giggled. "Everything here has such funny names."

"Yeah," Harry said, "I mean, I guess. I mean, why aren't you going back to New Mexico?"

"Dad works for the government. He's kind of an ambassador, so we'll be over here for a while." She sighed, flicking the grass she'd been playing with away. "Dad's busy setting up the apartment in London and he sent me out here to stay with Aunt Arabella until he's ready for me I guess."

Suddenly, from across the play park, Harry heard a chorus of malicious laughter. "Oh no," he said, getting to his feet. Gwyn followed, brushing grass out of her lap. On the opposite side of the park, Harry's cousin Dudley and his gang of hangers-on sat lounging on a picnic table, smoking cigarettes and watching them. Since Dudley had found fame on the junior heavyweight boxing circuit the previous year, his retinue of admirers had grown considerably, and now encompassed pretty much every underage thug and hoodlum in the neighborhood. Dudley was roughly the size of a small elephant, and his gang of friends was hardly less imposing. His boxing hobby had turned the once flabby boy into a viciously strong young man.

"Oy!" Dudley's friend Piers cried with malice, "The freak's got 'imself a girlfriend!" Harry felt his face go instantly hot.

"Who's that?" Gwyn asked quietly.

"My cousin, Dudley and his friends," Harry growled. "Just ignore them."

"What's wrong with her hair?" another boy called Gordon laughed loudly.

"She's a freak just like Potter!" Piers spat. The whole gang erupted into a chorus of snickers and jeers. Dudley laughed nervously, looking torn between his innate desire to humiliate his cousin and his basic underlying fear of what Harry might do to him. He and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were still quite convinced that Harry had attacked Dudley in the alley last summer and not protected him as was actually the truth.

"Come on," Harry said, turning his back on his cousin's gang, "let's just--" but Gwyn was already gone. Horrified, Harry saw that she was marching straight back across the park towards Piers.

"Who the hell do you think you are calling me a freak?" she demanded. For a moment, the boys looked stunned. Then Dudley laughed.

"We'll call you whatever we like," he sneered. Harry frowned, an overwhelming anger bubbling up from his stomach. Obviously, Dudley's anxiety over what Harry might do to him didn't extend to Gwyn. He marched across the lawn behind her.

"You won't if you want to keep your face!" she yelled, "Although, it might be an improvement if I rearranged it for you!" The boys began to laugh.

"You?" Piers said in disbelief.

"Lay off!" Harry shouted. The boys, who had momentarily forgotten him, all stood up from around the picnic table and moved towards him, except Dudley, who remained where he was, eyeing Harry warily.

"Or what?" Piers demanded, emboldened by his friends standing all around him, outnumbering Harry and Gwyn more than three to one.

"Or you'll be sorry," Harry growled. He reached around to his back pocket where he habitually carried his wand. Recognizing the move, Dudley leaped to his feet.

"No!" he yelled suddenly. Piers and the other boys turned to stare at him in disbelief. "I mean..." Dudley faltered, trying not to look frightened "he's not worth the trouble." He looked from one of his friends to the next. "And you can't hit a girl," he added as an afterthought.

"I'd like to see you try!" Gwyn laughed. Piers looked like he was about to try when Dudley grabbed his arm.

"Come on," he said coaxingly, "let's go sneak into that new movie at the Cineplex." Reluctantly, Piers turned and followed Dudley, with the rest of the boys falling into step behind. As they left, Dudley shot an angry look over his shoulder at Harry and Gwyn.

"Thanks for backing me up," Gwyn said as they watched the boys leave, "but I had everything under control."

"Oh, right," Harry said, his face reddening, "I mean, I never doubted it." Suddenly Gwyn smiled brightly, and Harry felt a familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he'd just attempted the Wronski Feign on his broom.

"You're all right, Harry Potter," she said as she gazed at him appreciatively. Harry turned away from her gaze, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.

"Oh jeez," she said suddenly, "I've got to go. Aunt Arabella likes me to be home for tea. Will I see you here tomorrow?" Harry nodded vigorously. Gwyn smiled. "Great! Well, see ya, Harry!" She took off towards Wisteria Walk, her hair bouncing behind her with every step.

"Yeah! See ya!" Harry called belatedly. Gwyn turned to wave at him and smile before turning the corner.

Harry sank into the nearest swing. He suddenly felt very woozy, and it had nothing to do with the heat.

The next day, Harry was up earlier than usual. Hermione had finally convinced him to buy a few sets of Muggle clothes that actually fit, as opposed to his oversized hand-me-downs from Dudley, so Harry pulled out his nicest pair of jeans, a dark green tee shirt that was actually his size, and a pair of lace ups that weren't coming apart at the seams. He didn't wear these clothes around the Dursleys much for fear that they might wonder where he'd gotten the money for new clothes, and that that might lead them to knowledge of a certain bank vault on Diagon Alley that was filled with Harry's small fortune in wizard gold that had been left to him by his parents.

Once dressed he stood in front of the mirror examining his reflection. He had filled out a bit since last year, he decided. His arms and legs no longer looked as though they were several sizes too large for his body, and several years of regular meals at Hogworts had done their part to add some muscle to his wiry frame. The green tee shirt had been Hermione's idea, saying that it would compliment the color of his bright green eyes, and, he mused, she had been right. He picked up a comb and tried to tame his wild black hair into some semblance of order, but it simply wouldn't obey him. Giving up, he ran his hand through it instead, and was reminded of another dark haired boy sitting under a tree ruffling his hair to impress a girl. Harry smiled slightly and ruffled it a bit more. It had worked for James...

Harry finished washing up after breakfast in record time and, rather than spend the morning in the customary isolation of his room, he sped off towards the play park. He walked around it several times, looking for a good spot to wait, and finally deciding that his regular tree was as good as any, he sat down on the grass. Nervously, he rearranged himself several times, trying out different poses to make the best impression. Realizing suddenly how stupid he was being, he laughed out loud and decided not to worry about it. It felt good. He hadn't really laughed in a while.

The morning wore on into afternoon, and Harry began to wish he'd thought to bring something with him for lunch. Trying to ignore the rumblings from his stomach, Harry stretched out on the grass and closed his eyes.

After what seemed like only a moment, Harry felt something tickling his nose. He reached up to brush it away, and his hand collided with something warm and soft. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring into two bright blue eyes, round and wide with laughter. Gwyn was sitting next to him in the shade, and had been tickling his nose with a long blade of grass. Harry suddenly realized that the warm soft thing he had caught in his hand, was in fact her hand. He let her go and pushed away quickly into a sitting position.

"Hi again," she said with a giggle. "You fell asleep."

"Yeah," Harry said, his face burning, "I guess I did." Suddenly, his stomach growled loudly and Gwyn giggled.

"Hungry?" she asked, eyebrows arched. Harry felt like his face might catch fire at any moment.

"Yeah," he said with a forced laugh, "I didn't have any lunch..." Gwyn made to stand up. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail today and the pink streak created an interesting stripe on the side of her head and curling down her shoulders with the rest of her soft blonde hair. She was wearing a small, baby blue tee shirt with the words What are YOU looking at? silk screened across the front in navy over a pale pink cotton skirt. Harry quickly averted his eyes, thinking that Gwyn probably knew full well what people were looking at when they were reading her shirt.

"Well, come on!" she said playfully, extending her hand to help him up. "Let's get you something to eat before you pass out from hunger." Harry awkwardly accepted her hand and got to his feet, but he quickly released it as soon as he was upright.

The two made their way up Magnolia Road to the main street where there were an assortment of small shops. Gwyn led the way down to the corner where a tiny store barely the size of Harry's bedroom was doing a lively business. Since he had never had any Muggle money to spend, Harry had never spent much time around the shops when he was home for the summer, and he was surprised to see that busy little shop was an ice cream parlor.

Gwyn pushed ahead through the crowd, but Harry hung back. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I haven't got any money," he replied solemnly. "You go ahead." She grinned at him and rolled her eyes.

"Don't be such a dork," she said grabbing his hand and pulling him forward through the crowd and up to the counter. Gwyn proceeded to order two scoops of ice cream in a cone, so Harry did the same, and she paid for them both. Harry felt a little stupid, letting her pay for his ice cream, but the way she kept smiling at him, he guessed she didn't mind.

They wandered up and down the road eating their ice creams and looking in the windows of the different shops. For a moment, Harry was reminded of the Hogsmead trip he'd spent with Cho, but he quickly pushed that memory aside. Gwyn could not have been more different from Cho. For one thing, she wasn't crying all over him every other minute.

At one point, they saw Dudley and his gang emerge from a candy shop, their pockets bulging with stolen sweets, but they seemed in too much of a hurry to pay much attention Harry and Gwyn. Harry grinned: Aunt Petunia would be very disappointed to know that her precious son was cheating on his diet.

"So what do you like to do, Harry?" Gwyn asked as they walked slowly back to the play park in the late afternoon sun. "What's your thing? What are you famous for?" Harry looked at her sharply, but the innocent smile on her face calmed him. She's a Muggle he reminded himself, she doesn't have any idea...

"Nothing," he said happily, "I'm not famous at all."

"Aw, come on," Gwyn prompted. "There must be something! Maybe you're... the class clown?" Harry shook his head.

"My mate Ron's more the class clown than I am," he replied.

She squinted at him appraisingly. "Okaaay... maybe... the brain. You're a book nerd, aren't you?" Harry laughed.

"Hardly! That's my friend Hermione. She's top of our class." Gwyn sunk down into the grass under the shady tree, thinking hard.

"I've got it!" she said, snapping her fingers. "You're a jock! Sports hero of the school! Captain of your team!" Harry blushed. He had been picked to play seeker for his house quiddich team his first year at Hogworts, making him the youngest seeker in a century, and he had helped his team win loads of games, but he had no idea how he was going to explain quiddich to a Muggle.

"Er..." he replied noncommittally.

"You are!" she giggled. "You're just too modest to talk about it." She laughed right out loud and Harry found himself laughing with her.

"Well, I'm not captain..." he said finally. Gwyn sighed and rolled her eyes as Harry lay back on the grass.

"All right, all right. We'll just stick with jock then," she capitulated. For a while they sat there in silence. Harry couldn't believe how good it felt to meet someone who didn't know his whole life story the minute she heard his name. Gwyn had no preconceptions of him, no expectations. She had heard no stories about "the boy who lived" and had read no headlines proclaiming him to be mentally unstable, or alternately, savior of the world. And yet, she still seemed interested in him, still wanted to spend time with him and get to know him.

Suddenly he realized that she was leaning over him, frowning at something. She put out her hand and gently smoothed back the fringe of hair from his forehead. He froze at her touch, wondering what she was thinking, bracing himself for the inevitable questions.

"How did you get that scar?" she asked, staring at it. Harry made a sort of shrugging motion. He didn't want to lie to her, but he couldn't tell her the truth...

"I've had it since I was a baby," he began slowly. "My aunt and uncle told me that I got it in the car crash that killed my parents." Ok, he though, they did tell you that, so that was sort of the truth...

"Oh Harry..." she said softly. She took her hand away and sat back. "I'm sorry. I..."

"That's OK," he said quickly, sitting up again. "You didn't know." She shook her head and smiled slightly.

"It's getting late," she said finally, "I should probably go." Harry nodded, but he wanted to stop her. He didn't want the afternoon to end.