Privet Drive

Harry was careful to have all his chores done in the hope that his Uncle would agree to him staying home again tomorrow. It had in fact worked, but when the Dursley s returned home to find Harry asleep the chore list grew substantially. Iris found him in the garage. As orderly as the Dursley' s liked to keep things there wasn't that much in there to clean up, with the exception of a new pile stuff that looked like it must have been in Harry's room before he came back. Iris perused the list of chores Harry had left out, "You do the laundry? I don't even know how to turn the machine on."

"Lucky you," teased Harry as he placed the last year's top video game in the box next to the keyboard, which looked like it had some sticky substance spilled on it numerous times.

"Mum seems to like you better since you talked. By the way, she won't tell me what you talked about," she eyed him suspiciously. Harry grinned.

"I'll never tell." She glared at him in mock annoyance. Iris reread the list, everything else on his list was inside and she made an excuse to go.

"See you later?" Harry asked, sounding hopeful, Iris nodded.

"We've got to find a way to meet somewhere it's not cold," she said coyly.

Harry hadn't felt the cold, he didn't seem to notice when he was with her, but in the few hours before he took the potion he felt considerably worse. He lay on his bed, half asleep, when Dudley came into his room. Harry had left his trunk open and Dudley was poking through it, when he came across the photo album he flipped through it. In the last page were newspaper clippings. Dudley started when he saw the pictures move, his curiosity won out over his fear and he read articles about 'The boy who lived'. Hedwig was noisily protesting Dudley's intrusion, so he opened the window to shoo her out. "You're not so special," he said aloud to himself, as Harry hadn't fully woken. Then he saw the picture of Harry and Cedric face down on the ground holding the Tri-wizard Cup the headline reading:

STUDENT DIES IN COMPETITION!!

The color left his face and he turned to look at Harry who was putting his glasses on and saw the picture he hadn't dared to look at in so long. "You . . . You . . ." Dudley stammered.

"Get out," Harry screamed. "That's my stuff!" Harry started to rise; Dudley punched him hard returning him to his bed.

The punch was out of fear; Dudley started to back away from the bed, he held out the photo, "D -did you kill him? Kill him to win?"

Harry lay there with his mouth open. The picture left Dudley's hand and floated down to the bed. Harry's eyes betrayed him and looked at the photo. Dudley was waiting for Harry to scream back his innocence, only to see Harry shaking with his head in his hands. "I killed him," he said, barely above a whisper. Dudley backed out of the room sideswiping the bedside table, knocking the potion flask to the floor and shattering it.

Harry waited for it, but it never came. He thought for definite Dudley would run and tell his uncle about the article and having pictures of known killers in a family album. Any minute now they would throw him out on the street, he waited.

The fear Dudley had of magic was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Harry could only imagine that his cousin's outright fear of Harry killing them all had kept him quiet. Hedwig flew back in the window. She nestled up to Harry, "I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you." She hooted and flew over to her cage and returned with a bag of owl treats. "Oh, I see Mrs. Weasley has you well fed." He noticed a small note attached to the bag.

Harry, I can't wait to here all about Iris, but you might want to be careful what you write about girls, Mum likes to check your letters to see if you're okay. Ron

Harry couldn't help a half smile when he thought about how much embarrassment his last note must have caused Ron. The wind blew through the open window causing the picture of Harry and Cedric to stir on the bed. In the photo the boys lay motionless on the ground, their hair moving a little with the wind. Harry's eye trailed down Cedric's still form with a quick gasp at seeing how tightly his own hand clasped around Cedric's wrist. Harry bit his lip, put everything back in his trunk, locked it and crawled back into bed. He didn't care that it was 5:00pm in the afternoon, or that his potion bottle still lay in pieces on the floor.

"What were you thinking?" Fred shouted at Ron.

"I was thinking that you've been laughing at me for two days," Ron shouted back to Fred.

"What is going on?" Mrs. Weasley shouting louder than the rest.

"The prat here told Harry that we've all read his letters and that's why Harry hasn't written back in two days," answered Fred.

"He's just busy," Ron said unconvincingly.

The bedroom window had remained open and Hedwig landed abruptly on Harry's back. A groan was the only sound Harry made. When he did rise to stop Hedwig's insistent hooting he was furious that he had allowed Dudley to affect him that way, for not locking his trunk and for letting himself fall into the slump that followed. When Harry rolled over he found the note Hedwig had from Ron that was very obviously encouraged by Molly. He reached for a quill on the table next to his bed and wrote on the back of Ron's note that he was fine, and thanking them for the owl treats. Harry sat watching the open window long after Hedwig left. A shiver ran through him, Harry decided that he had better get up and close the window before he froze to death. I feel bloody awful, but I'm not suicidal. With a sudden intake of breath he remembered the broken potion bottle. Harry let out various expletives and hopped to the window to close it.

"Harry?" Iris was looking up from the yard. Harry squinted against the sun. "Are you alright?"

Harry looked down at his foot, now pooling with blood. With a defeated voice he said, "Can I come over?"

Harry opened his trunk, ripped a piece of one of Dudley's old shirts and wrapped it around his foot. Before relocking it he came across the gift he had bought for Iris. Harry scrawled a quick note, placing it in the box and stuffing it under his arm. Iris met him at the door. The concerned expression she'd had under his window was nothing compared to the frenzy of emotion displayed on her face now. She was sure that he was wearing the same clothes she had seen him in last, his hair was dirty and standing up in all directions far beyond the messy look she had found so appealing a few days back.

"Why aren't you wearing a coat? Or shoes? God! What happened to your foot?"

Mrs. Palmer rushed over to help him into the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"What happened dear?" asked Mrs Palmer, sounding much as Mrs. Weasley would have. Iris sat alongside Harry, she held tightly to his shoulder. He winced from the forgotten bruise that Dudley had left and that Iris was squeezing. "Almost done," Mrs. Palmer said, mistaking his wince for what she was doing. Iris looked nervously at Harry,

"I know you have a cold, but you look awful."

"I wasn't feeling well, so I slept in, when I got up to close the window I stepped on the glass." Harry explained.

"Slept in?" Iris asked incredulously, "Harry, your window was open for two days."

"Iris dear, why don't you go and make us some tea, I'll be finished in a moment." Harry thanked her inwardly for distracting Iris. The older neighbour considered him for a moment. He hoped she wasn't gazing at his face to see if he was on drugs. "You look flushed, do you have a fever?" She didn't wait for an answer before placing the back of her hand on his forehead. He managed not to gasp when she brushed over his scar. "You've a temperature." She placed a cool washcloth around the back of his neck.

"Thank you," he said timidly wondering if his own Mum would have done the same thing. She looked like she wanted to say a few things or ask a few thousand questions, but settled with,

"You're welcome."

About halfway through a cup of tea and more Christmas cake came a shriek that could be heard from next door. Iris's mother opened the door to hear Vernon's voice, "Boy!"

Followed by Petunia's screech, "There's blood all over the floor!"

Harry blinked hard willing them to be gone, but to no avail. Iris and her Mother helped Harry across the driveway. His Aunt and Uncle were already there, following the trail of blood.

"Not to worry", Iris's mother said, "Harry is alright." She had obviously mistaken Petunia's scream as one of concern for Harry and not for her pristine floor.

The Dursley's found them selves in a position they had worked hard to avoid over the years. When the Weasley's had come for Harry it was easy for Vernon to show full well that 'their kind' was unwelcome. The Palmer's were another thing altogether, neighbours who would still be there long after Harry left next week. Normal, non-magic people who, for some reason Vernon couldn't comprehend, liked Harry.

"Have you been hurt, boy?" It took every fiber of his being to say, with a look that Harry thought was meant to be concern, but was alien to his uncle's face. Harry knew better than to make eye contact.

"I wasn't looking and I stepped on some glass," he said to his feet.

Vernon knew his control was fleeting and wanted to get Harry back into the house.

"The boy won't be a nuisance to you anymore."

"No trouble at all, Mr. Dursley," said Mrs. Palmer

The state of numbness Harry was in was all but gone; the pain in his foot was back in full force. Iris helped him into the house. He quickly cleaned up a few spots of blood on the floor. The Dursley's were still outside.

"Do you need help up the stairs? I'm sure there is more to clean up there."

Harry wasn't about to say no to having his arms around Iris whether he needed help or not.

"OK." Once up the stairs she glanced to what she thought was a guest room. A simple bed with a table beside it, no pictures on the wall or anything to suggest anyone had used the room for more than a few days. Leading Harry into a normal teenage room with posters of musicians and video games galore. "This one's Dudley's."

Iris tried to make light of her mistake and Harry's obvious embarrassment.

"Thank God, I hope you don't share the same taste in music," said Iris, pointing at the biggest poster of a man with blue hair.

Turning around in the hall they found themselves face to face. Harry thought he felt himself blush, but guessed it would be mistaken for fever anyway. "Harry, I'm sorry you're having such a lousy holiday. I'll bet you wish you had stayed with your friends at school." Still having one arm over Iris's shoulder for support, Harry raised the other to meet it.

"Not at the moment," he said with a raspy voice, and kissed her.

'Tinkle' Lost in the kiss Harry though he heard music 'clink'. They parted and Harry continued to gaze into her eyes. 'Tinkle'. No, that was not music. Iris and Harry looked puzzled and went into Harry's room to investigate. The sight on Harry's floor shocked both. Iris turned to leave.

"I'll check on you tomorrow," she said and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Harry nodded. When Iris had gone Harry turned his attention back to the sight on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" Harry repeated.

"Picking up the . . . thing I broke," Dudley stammered, plucking the last few pieces of glass off the floor.

"Why?"

"I broke it I should . . ." Harry cut him off.

"You broke it two days ago!" Dudley shuffled his feet. "What? Are you finally afraid of me? You know I can't do magic here, or has it occurred to you that I will graduate someday and you will be defenseless then?"

Harry always knew this conversation would happen someday with Dudley, but he wasn't enjoying it half as much as he had in his fantasies. "Get out!" Dudley started to leave sidestepping around Harry. "Go back to being a prat; you're easier to take that way."

Harry knew that he was mistreated all his life by the Dursley's because of magic, he could have been a squib and still he would have been treated the same. Dudley's reaction was all too similar to those in the wizard world who had thought he was the one opening the Chamber of Secrets. This infuriated him. Harry scrubbed the deep crimson stain off the floor so hard he almost removed the hardwood varnish. A tapping noise above his head startled him right onto the floor. Hedwig fluttered with a letter tied to his leg.

Harry,

I know you're angry because my family can't mind their own business and read your letters, but when you write, "I'm fine" on the back of my note it just freaks everybody out. We know you better than that. Please write back, tell me all about Iris and I won't share the letter with anybody.

Ron

If Harry could figure out how to send a howler he might have. Harry thought "If they knew him well enough to know that "I'm fine" didn't usually mean I'm fine, that why didn't Ron know that? Instead Ron assumed I'm angry for my letter being read out loud, as if anything about me could be a secret in the Weasley house." Harry grabbed some parchment and wrote a letter back before he knew what he wanted to say; the letter seemed to write itself out of rage.

Dear Ron,

I'M FINE, GET IT?

You've got the whole Weasley clan together. "You're fine". Hermione s off in whatever country, "She's fine". Neville's home with some fabulous plant probably seeding all over the green house, "He's fine"!

Did you really think I would get that upset over your family reading my letter? If you want to hear about how wonderful Iris is I could tell you about how pretty she is or how she has the softest hands, or the romantic afternoon we had in the bathroom with her mother picking the remains of my potion bottle out of my foot! Yes my potion bottle, the one Dudley accidentally smashed when he asked me if I KILLED CEDRIC!

Since you promised not to show this to your family, you could just tell them that I said

"I'M FINE" Get it? If not, have someone explain it to you using small words!

OK, so I'm not fine, but did we see this going any other way?

Harry

Hedwig gave a hoot of protest when Harry shoved her back out the window. Had the timing been different Harry might not have taken out his anger on Ron. Writing down everything that was stirring in his head seemed to calm Harry, calm him enough to realize he shouldn't have actually sent the letter. He tried to reach for Hedwig, but she was gone. Ron surely wouldn't be able to keep the letter from his family and he felt bad about it. He hadn't minded spurting off to Ron, but hadn't thought about the rest of them.

To Harry's great relief he got a get well soon card from Hermione. He quickly wrote a letter to the Weasley's (not Ron) so they would be sure to see it. He apologized for his last letter and tried to sound convincing that he was OK, being careful not to use the word fine, sending it out with Hermione' s owl.

About 10 minutes later

Harry heard a tap at the window. Surely Hedwig couldn't be back already? Harry opened the window and there was no owl in sight. A small pebble hit him in the arm. "Sorry 'bout that," called Iris, holding a handful of small stones. "That's quite a look you have going there," Iris teased. Harry tried to flatten his unruly hair. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll come over later with a new bandage for your foot?"

"OK, about an hour?" Harry asked.

"OK, later." she smiled.

It occurred to Harry that the house seemed to be empty. He was sure after yesterday they wouldn't leave him alone, but figured Dudley had found a way to convince them.

Iris came to Harry's room. "Hello? Harry?"

Harry tucked in his shirt and combed his hair that was still wet and sticking to his head. "I'll be right out."

The card from Hermione adorned his bedside table. Iris read bits of it, "Get well; see you in a few weeks. P.S. Neville said he'd send Herbology notes if you need them . . ."

"Hi," Harry said, seeing Iris sitting on his bed.

"Who's Hermione?" she asked catching Harry off guard.

"She's a friend of mine." Harry saw Iris frown a bit. "She's going out with my best friend Ron," Harry added quickly.

"Oh." she tried not to smile, but failed, "What are your friends like?"

"Ron's great, we became friends the second we met," he answered; quickly forgetting he was mad at Ron.

"And Hermione?" Iris prompted.

"Hermione is a good friend; she's the smartest person I've ever met."

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Iris paused as if she had been trying to work up the nerve to ask. "Have they finished the repairs from the fire?"

Fire? Harry had no idea what she was talking about. "Um...the fire?"

Iris continued as if Harry hadn't replied.

"There was an article in the paper last month about it," Iris started to speak as if quoting from the article. "Students from St. Brutus's were sent home for a full week to assess the damage to the school after a fire that has not yet been ruled out as arson."

Harry's mouth gaped open like a fish gasping for breath.

"Why did you lie about going there?"

"I um, well actually I didn't tell you I went there, my aunt told your Mum."

"But you didn't deny it." Harry bit his lip.

"I'm not supposed to talk about my school. I didn't really know you that well yet."

"I heard Dudley telling you that you weren't so special. Dudley couldn't go to your school, could he?" Harry laughed.

"No he could not have gotten in." His laugh sent him in to a coughing fit.

"So they would rather lie about you being going to a school for the gifted rather than admit that their own son couldn't?" Iris said handing him a tissue. Harry knew he was in danger of saying something he shouldn't he had already let out so much.

"I um wouldn't say gifted."

"It's OK Harry, you don't have to tell me where you go, but you don't go to St. Brutus's right?" Harry nodded. "Does Hermione go to your school?"

"Yeah"

"Could I ask you one more thing and I promise to shut up?" Harry laughed,

"What?"

"Is she as pretty as she says?"

"What?"

Iris flushed and glanced at the card on the table. "Well she signed her card 'your friend the ever beautiful Hermione'."

Harry laughed as he remembered Hermione making fun at him in Honeydukes.

"I'll have to tell you about that sometime, it's actually pretty funny."

Harry suddenly realized that he had left her Christmas gift somewhere in her sitting room the day before. "Iris, I left something at your house."

"What?"

"Well... it's nothing really, but there's a note on it and... well I didn't mean to leave it. I didn't feel well, and I ... could you just toss it out? Not the gift, just the note."

Iris smiled at his articulation, or lack there of.

"Sure."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Iris finished with the new bandage on his foot. "I'm worried about you," said Iris, gazing into his eyes.

"Why, does it look bad?" he said, straining to get a look at his foot.

"No." Iris paused, "You don't look so good."

"It's okay, I feel better than I look."

Iris disappeared and returned with some water for Harry in a plastic cup.

"You rest, let me know if you need anything."

Harry protested, but she kissed him on the head and left. Harry's head was spinning, Iris had figured out so much. 'Gifted?' Harry laughed to himself. 'Not quite, though Neville would have loved to have heard that.' At least now he had more to write about in future letters. Harry tried to think about it all, but his thoughts faded and he was asleep again.

~*~To be continued ~*~