Harry Potter and the Summer of Discovery

Chpt. 2. The Night of the Letters

Harry recalled the last words Xander had told him: Next time you see me, pretend you don't know me. He thought Xander was referring to the train station, where he had made fun of Uncle Vernon behind his back. Harry could only hope that his look of surprise would be interpreted as amazement that this apparent stranger had guessed his name.

"Yes, erm, sir, I'm Harry," he said. Calling Xander 'sir' just didn't feel right. After all they had been taking the same classes only one month ago.

"Your aunt and uncle tell me that you've been working odd jobs this summer, am I right?" asked Xander, deftly covering Harry's silence with a simple question.

"Yes, I have," said Harry. "It, er, helps them out if I start paying for my own things."

"Well, I have a house full of boxes I could use a hand with, and my money will serve just as well as anyone else's. If you can help me tonight, I can offer dinner as well," said Xander, solving a dilemma of Harry's. He was trying to think of a way to talk to Xander. Well, problem solved.

"Can we expect a future Mrs. Majere to come visit?" asked Kat's mom. Of course, this mother of a teenager would nose a bit, just to see if this new neighbor posed a threat to her daughter.

"Whether or not she'll agree to be the future Mrs. Majere I can't answer, but I hope she'll accept the position," grinned Xander. "Her name's Alicia."

"And does Alicia do more than write songs?" asked Uncle Vernon gruffly. Harry resisted the urge to step on Uncle Vernon's foot as he walked past. He settled instead for silently belching and blowing the stench of an empty stomach right under Uncle Vernon's nose.

"She's studying medicine at Oxford," said Xander, and Harry again had to marvel at Xander's innocent insult. Uncle Vernon's jaw dropped. "And songwriting is not my job. I'm on a task force that's dealing with the Yardies."

Again, Uncle Vernon's eyes widened. "Well, it's good to know the government is doing something about the scum that feasts on hard-working, innocent people," he began, and Harry ignored the rest of Uncle Vernon's rant. If Uncle Vernon was so anti-crime, he could do something about it rather than complain that nobody is. For all Harry cared, the Yardies could take everything the Dursleys owned and dance on the ashes of number four.

"It was a pleasure meeting you all," said Xander once Uncle Vernon paused for a breath. "Harry, how about that hand?"

Harry nodded, and started to follow Xander down the walk before Uncle Vernon grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt. "Home by ten-thirty, or you'll be sleeping in the flowerbeds tonight," growled Uncle Vernon under his breath before releasing Harry.

Harry joined Xander on the sidewalk, and heard him muttering something under his breath. A loud explosion rattled Harry, and he whipped around to see who was setting off fireworks. Uncle Vernon's face was purple. The rear tire of his company car blew out.

"Damn street rats with their beebee guns!" he roared. "I'm phoning the police!" he shouted to no one, and the new neighbors at number seven backed away, visibly losing their liking for the Dursleys. Harry hid a snigger as Uncle Vernon shot him a warning look, basically blaming Harry for the blowout.

"Real smooth, dipshit," muttered Harry out of the corner of his mouth, although he was laughing.

"Act like you didn't love that," Xander whispered back. "You can thank me when we get inside."

"What makes you think I'll have reason to?" asked Harry.

"A real good sense of intuition," said Xander. Jeez, was this statement going to haunt Harry all day?

Harry couldn't help but wonder what Xander had in mind. His home was orderly, everything already in its place. Sure, there was the usual untidiness of someone who had just moved in, but nothing that required Harry's services. He stared at an incredibly lifelike statue of a phoenix, its eyes almost speaking to Harry. Amazing, the detail in the statue. Reaching up to touch it, Harry nearly peed himself when the statue jumped out of reach by its own accord, the wings nearly swatting him in the head. Xander laughed loudly.

"You can't touch that," said Xander. "It's a personal Portkey to Hogwarts, made by Dumbledore. He seemed to think that a Muggle-Repellant Charm wouldn't be enough."

"What the hell is going on today?" snapped Harry. "How long 'till my next surprise?"

Xander held out his wrist and began counting. "In five... four... three..."

He never finished his countdown. Harry nearly lost control of the other end of his bodily functions, cupping his hand around his rear just to make sure, as Xander's fireplace flared up in green flame without warning, and Ron and Hermione stepped out of the green flames.

"Don't crap yourself, mate, it's just us," grinned Ron.

"If your underpants are empty, can I say hello?" said Hermione, beaming, as she gave Harry a hug.

"Ooh, what's this?" asked Hermione, running her hand over Harry's chest and squeezing his arms. Without warning, her hand went for his butt, giving it a small squeeze. "Yep, they're empty. You can say hello, Ron."

"Damn, Harry, you look like you put on ten pounds," said Ron as they shook hands. "Cho should appreciate it. How is she?"

"Haven't heard from her all summer," muttered Harry, shrugging his shoulders. Ron and Hermione looked for something to do.

"So what've you been up to all summer?" asked Xander, trying to cover up the awkwardness.

"Been working all summer," answered Harry, relieved to be talking about something else. "Running errands, plus I've been doing some construction work."

"Ah, that explains it," said Ron, punching Harry in the shoulder.

"And making new 'friends', from what I can tell," winked Xander.

"I don't know what you mean," said Harry quickly, even though he felt his face reddening. Hermione followed Xander's eyes and went directly to the window, peering out.

"She's cute," said Hermione admirably.

Ron joined her at the window. "Well done, Harry," he said, accepting a smack in the arm from Hermione. "Hey, you said it first, Ms. 'I'd Never Sleep With Another Woman'."

"It's nothing," Harry said hurriedly. "She was crying for some reason, I bought her a cup of coffee, I went to work. Nothing big."

"Nothing except her boobs," said Xander, and Ron had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"So what are you doing here?" Harry asked Xander, trying to change the subject again.

"I done bought me a home," said Xander with a redneck drawl. "It gots four walls, a roof, and I don't gotta put a coat on to go to the bathroom."

"Always a bonus," said Harry.

"Seriously, though, isn't this great?" said Xander excitedly. "Look at this! I'm nineteen and I'm a homeowner. I don't even have enough crap to fill this place with. I'm thinking of a Muggle Home Theater system here, put a huge leather couch against that wall, and look at the Dining Room, I could fit a banquet table in there..."

Xander continued for many more minutes, and Harry could only grin. With anyone else, it would have seemed ridiculous to get this excited over a house, but Harry knew a bit about Xander's past. He had grown up homeless, never knowing where his next meal would come from. Little things, like a separate room in the bathroom for the toilet, excited Xander beyond reason. Once the tour was over and Xander calmed down a bit after getting thoroughly hyped over the thought of three bedrooms and a huge master bedroom (which Xander sprinted several laps around to show just how big it was), Harry got around to asking a question he'd been dying to since he heard Dudley get excited.

"So, did you really sell songs you wrote?"

"Oh, yeah, I wasn't screwin' around with that," said Xander. "Every time 'Champaign Supernova' plays on the radio or your cousin buys an Oasis CD, my checkbook goes 'Ka-Ching!'," he said, complete with an arm motion of opening a cash register. "I went back home to see my family for a week, and sold a bunch of them to some people in Detroit. The one I did at the Halloween party probably won't be heard for about five years, and the one I wrote for Alicia brought in a good amount of bank."

"Where's your Order of Merlin?" asked Ron. "I've never seen one in person before."

"Oh, that..." Xander trailed off, losing some of his excitement. He dug through one of his boxes, pulling out a small case that appeared to be thrown about very unceremoniously and handed it to Ron.

"Wow, that's amazing," said Ron, his eyes wide. "Dumbledore's the only person I've ever met that had one of these."

"You don't seem too excited about it," observed Hermione.

"Hmm," said Xander, shrugging his shoulders. He handed Harry a letter. "I was asked to deliver this for you," he said, and busied himself with nothing.

Harry read the heading, excitement growing when he saw it was from Sirius. Tearing it open, Ron and Hermione read over his shoulder.

Dear Harry,

To answer your last letter, it feels GREAT to be able to walk in public again. Though, you were right, I still get the awkward glances from those who refuse to believe I can possibly be innocent, and all conversation cuts off whenever I walk into the Ministry of Magic for a hearing. Tough stuff, though, I think I've earned a bit of a break.

Since you're reading this letter, I know that you've found out about Majere living so close to you, and since he's an Auror, I'll be able to visit every now and then over the summer. Although the two-way mirrors are nice, nothing beats a good 'ol face-to-face, am I right? There's so much that I'd like to write here, but I'd rather we had something to talk about in person. Try and make sure you're free on your birthday, I'd like this one to be the first one I actually get to be a true godfather.

Seeing you soon,

Sirius

"You'd let us do that?" asked Harry once he finished the letter. "Meet here?" It seemed almost too good to be true.

"You act like you can't trust me," said Xander, who was now pouring drinks for everyone. Harry did register, however, that Xander had poured himself a glass of straight whiskey. Remembering what happened the last time that Xander drank too much, Harry was about to say something, then thought better of it. It wasn't exactly good manners to scold someone after they performed a favor like this for you, now was it?

Switching the course of conversation, Xander told them of his brief experience so far with the Ministry. They were working around the clock, processing the captured Death Eaters, expressing frustration that Lucious Malfoy, the father of Harry's worst enemy at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy, had avoided capture. He told them of Fudge's narrow-mindedness, as Fudge was making it a point to alert the pureblood families instead of the half-blood families. He spoke briefly of Sirius's situation, explaining that they were forbidden from revealing anything other than what was already public knowledge, and that he was certain that Sirius would tell Harry more in person. He merely brushed on the topic of his own mage Order, saying he didn't know much.

Noticing that it was a quarter past ten, Harry thought it best to avoid a row with the Dursleys and bade his friends farewell. For a fleeting instant, Harry thought that Hermione was a bit too friendly with her hug, but decided that his imagination was just working in overtime. After all, wasn't she involved with his best friend?

It was 10:20 when Harry reached the porch of number four, and he caught Uncle Vernon as he was about to lock the front door. Fighting to keep his annoyance in check before he really slept in the flowerbeds, he muttered a simple "Thank you" as Uncle Vernon let him in.

"Cutting it close, aren't you, boy?" snarled Uncle Vernon. Apparently, he wasn't going to let Xander's polite insults slide tonight.

"You said ten-thirty, and I'm back ten minutes early," said Harry, not bothering to turn around to answer.

"I don't care how independent you think you are, you WILL look at me when you speak, boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon. Dudley turned his fat, piggy face from the T.V. in order to watch his favorite pastime, 'Bully-the-Orphan' as Dudley had named it.

Harry froze as he reached the first step upstairs. Turning around and squaring up to Uncle Vernon, he lost a bit of his control. "I'm sorry, sir," he said testily, complete with a mock bow. "But I'm tired and don't want to trouble you further, so I'm going up to bed. Good night."

"Your mere presence troubles me, and I'll not be spoken to like that," growled Uncle Vernon. "And you'll stand there while I speak to you, you little ingrate! I distinctly remember not excusing you."

Harry, who was walking backwards up the stairs, stopped. Dudley had turned down the volume on the television, adding to Harry's brooding. Recalling a movie he had watched a year ago, Harry sat in the empty armchair in the living room, forced his face to look calm, and gave Uncle Vernon his best Michael Corleone face. "I'm listening," he managed to say smoothly.

Not what he expected, Uncle Vernon paused a moment before continuing. "I know it was you who blew out my tire, you little freak. How dare you intentionally damage my company vehicle! Even I didn't think you had the nerve-"

Harry cut him off. "I know that you're aware of my inability to perform magic outside of school. Had it been me, a reprimand would have been sent here making you aware of my involvement. As you received no notice, I do believe that this is sufficient evidence of my innocence." Harry's calm yet menacing words completely derailed Uncle Vernon. Damn, thought Harry. I shoulda thought of this sooner.

"However," Harry continued, "if this will correct the situation," he counted out fifty pounds from his pocket, "allow me to compensate you for your trouble," and placed the crisp notes on the lamp table. "I do believe that this draws our discussion to a close. Good night."

Uncle Vernon was at a loss. True to form, however, he regained his track and started in again on Harry. "Gettin' a bit too big for your britches, aren't you, boy?" he said evilly. "Okay, if you want to throw money around, have it your way. Now that you're so independent, your free ride is over. I expect a twenty-five pound per week boarding fee, as well as an extra five pounds per meal. I believe that if you price out other living arrangements for yourself, you'll find these fees adequate." Uncle Vernon was wearing a nasty smile, thinking he had won the argument.

Harry, on the other hand, was tired of Uncle Vernon's bullying, weary of his treatment, sick of his voice. He calmly counted out one hundred pounds. "This will cover my boarding until I return to school. As I haven't eaten a meal here since I returned, I owe you no more. I wish I could say that doing business with you was a pleasure, but I'm not going to start lying to you now. And since I am now paying for my room, I'm sure you'll understand that I expect no intrusions," he added, staring pointedly at Dudley.

Uncle Vernon was now holding his hand out greedily, making it clear that the discussion would go no further. Not willing to let Uncle Vernon get away with it that easily, Harry dropped the money at his feet. "You want your money, come and get it," and he left for his newly bought room. "Before I forget," he added, holding back a laugh at the sight of Uncle Vernon on his knees scraping up the bills, "any attempt to enter my quarters will be painful." And he made his way to his room.

If he thought that entering his room would draw a close to this day, he was mistaken. Sitting on his bed, smiling sweetly and looking very pretty with her hair pulled back behind her ears and her legs crossed, was Kat.

"You shouldn't have paid him," she said sternly.

Oh, no, thought Harry. Just how much had she heard? Just the shouting? "Maybe my pocket money is running thin, but it solved a problem for the next four weeks," he said. "By the by, how did you get in here?"

"You left your window open," she said, pointing to his wide-open window. "I can't help it if it's easy to climb a tree."

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" asked Harry, quickly sweeping the room with his eyes, praising himself for having stored all evidence of magic. His eyes fell on his family tree, wondering if Kat had noticed it.

"What's supposed to be in the cage?" she asked instead, apparently not keen to get right to the point.

Harry didn't mind, as he wasn't keen to bring this visit to a close any time soon. "I'm studying owls," Harry invented quickly. "It's night, so she's out hunting."

"And she comes back on her own?" asked Kat, her eyebrows raised.

"Hedwig knows where her meals come from, if that's what you mean," answered Harry, seating himself in the chair next to his desk.

"And Hedwig has never run- erm, I mean, flown away?"

Harry was growing a little bored talking of his owl, but entertained the thought anyway. "She always comes back. I don't own her, if that's what you're thinking. I guess the closest word I know to describe is that she's my companion."

"You're full of surprises, Mr. Potter," said Kat with an approving nod.

Laughing inwardly at the irony of the statement, Harry asked, "So how did you find my name?" though he knew full well Kat must have looked at his family tree.

True enough, her eyes darted to the piece of paper resting silently next to him. "I didn't mean to pry," she said, even though she didn't look sorry, "but I almost stepped on it when I came in. I just wanted to make sure I didn't ruin anything important."

"Fair enough," said Harry. Normally, he would have been upset at this intrusion, but he was finding it difficult to remove himself from the Michael Corleone role, as it had been so successful thus far tonight. "So tell me, what's on your mind? Surely you didn't wait for me to ask about Hedwig..."

Kat looked down, letting Harry trail off. He knew she couldn't very well change the course of conversation now, not after leaving his last sentence unfinished. "Earlier, you asked why I was upset." Not a question, just a statement of reminder.

No further comment. "Go on," urged Harry. He still wasn't sure how he was doing this with a straight face.

"Mind, you're only getting an explanation because you're the only one who's ever seen me... in that mood," said Kat, who was now fiddling with a folded piece of paper.

Aware that he would get no further verbal explanation, he held out his hand. After a moment of indecision, Kat thrust the paper into Harry's hand and stalked to the window, staring at nothing. Knowing better than to ask permission at this point, he unfolded the paper, immediately wishing he hadn't.

Kat,

I cannot continue this relationship over this distance. You refuse to stay near me, and I refuse to have a relationship through letters and phone calls. Don't call, don't write, and don't come back for a visit. I don't wish for any form of contact at this point. It's better this way.

Brian

Choking back his curses, Harry folded the paper silently and placed it on the far corner of his desk, where Kat could obviously see he was finished with it. "You know, he's right. It's better this way," said Harry.

Kat rounded on him. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she shrieked. "What right do you have to say something like that?"

She continued to shout in this manner, basically questioning Harry's sanity and sensitivity. He just let her talk herself into silence, figuring that if he were in fact the true target of her rage, she would have left instead of sitting back down on his bed. After her face buried itself in her hands, Harry spoke.

"Would you rather have suffered the pain of separation, of longing and loneliness, always looking forward to your next letter, phone call, or visit, just to receive this?" he asked, pointing at the letter. "I didn't say he wasn't a great sodding fool, I only said he was right. It's better this way."

"How can he be so cold? It's not like I wanted to move, I didn't want to leave all my friends behind, I didn't want to start a new school," her voice began to crack. "He didn't even give it to me in person. I found it stuffed in one of my boxes," she stopped, regained control over her voice. "I'm not here to dump my problems on you. I only wished to give you an explanation."

"And now I have it," said Harry, ending the thought. "I could use a walk right about now. Since we've already traded some very personal information tonight, I'll offer another trade. Show me how to get down that tree, and I'll walk you home."

Without a word, Kat climbed deftly out the window and began to shimmy her way down the tree. Mimicking her movements, Harry was standing next to her at the same instant she reached the ground.

"How did you do that so fast? Are you a jock or something?" she asked.

"Something like that," said Harry. He doubted very much that she would allow a comment like 'I play Quidditch for my House team' go without further interrogation.

"I don't really feel like going home just yet," said Kat, and without even asking if Harry wanted company, began walking next to him down the road. Not that Harry cared, he felt that an invitation was unnecessary.

They walked a good fifteen minutes before anyone spoke. Kat broke the silence. "Say something, I can't stand this silence. It's hurting my brain."

Harry, who had been thinking about his birthday meeting with Sirius at that moment, blurted, "The day after tomorrow, I turn 16."

"Coincidence. I turned sixteen yesterday," said Kat, though she didn't sound enthused. "I spent it driving down from London in a stuffy moving van. Dad wouldn't even let me drive even though I'm old enough now."

Going on impulse, and thinking that Mr. Tompkins wouldn't mind very much, Harry grabbed Kat's hand and steered her towards his job site. Predictably, he found the keys to the truck in the sun visor and started the engine. "Okay, let's see how good you are," said Harry, sliding down the bench seat and patting the driver's seat.

"Maybe you do belong in St. Brutus's, you bad boy," said Kat, but her smile gave her away. She didn't care at the moment if Harry had taken a plane hostage, she was only interested in cheering herself up.

One wild half hour later, Harry released his death grip from the dashboard. Kat had no notion of slowing down to turn, no idea how a turning signal worked, and no intention of sharing the road with other drivers. She was, however, giggling madly as Harry moved the truck into its exact position in the driveway. At least he thought ahead and filled the gas tank for Mr. Tompkins so he wouldn't feel so bad when he got fired tomorrow.

"That was so wicked!" shrieked Kat, still breathing hard. "Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before. I actually drove!"

"Yeah," breathed Harry, surprised he could find his voice. He wouldn't exactly call what Kat did driving. More like attempted manslaughter.

"Did you see the looks on those joggers' faces?" she asked excitedly. "I thought they would piss themselves! I bet they think twice before jogging at night again!"

"I'm sure the shock of seeing a pickup truck barreling down the wrong lane was quite a shock," amended Harry, still unable to laugh.

"Oh, don't be so critical, Mr. I-Stole-A-Truck-So-You-Can-Drive-For-Your-Birthday," said Kat.

"I didn't exactly steal it," said Harry. "It's my boss's truck. I'm helping him for the summer."

"I know," said Kat, with a playful smile on her face. "I followed you after the Tea Room."

"A stalker," grinned Harry. "I'm honored."

"Not stalker," said Kat. "Just curious. You came out of nowhere, did you not expect me to find at least something out about you?"

"I guess I got carried away in my own arrogance," said Harry sarcastically. "We're here," he said, pointing to Kat's house.

"So you did end up walking me home after all," she said, messing up his already messy hair. "Now I owe you a birthday present. I'll see you in two days, Untidy Potter," she said sweetly, and gave his rear a firm squeeze.

Harry wasn't exactly sure how he made it back into his room that night, only that his legs were scratched and welted the next morning. He was so busy thinking about Kat's last comment that it took Hedwig nipping his ear to pay attention. There was a strange owl sitting on his bed. What really got his immediate attention is that the letter was written in Cho's handwriting.

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry, I should have written you sooner. By the tone of your last letter, I didn't realize that you would worry so much. I don't know if a letter is exactly the right place to explain, but I've had to do a lot of thinking so far this summer. All I can feel comfortable saying is that yes, it does affect the rest of my life. But I haven't forgotten about you, I swear it. Please don't worry yourself too much, and please be patient. I hope to have answers soon.

Cho

Several times, Harry rumpled up the letter, fully intending on throwing it out in the garbage, just to smooth it back out and reread it. Seven sentences, and it told him nothing. Wait, check that, it told him that Cho is spending a lot of time thinking. But what about? If she wasn't comfortable telling him, well, he didn't like the sound of that. Yet she asked for his patience. Does this mean she's thinking about him? Does it matter?

Harry sat absentmindedly stroking Hedwig, finally concluding to toss the letter in his Hogwarts trunk and vowing to put Cho from his mind until at least after his birthday. A birthday that promised a meeting with Sirius, and from what he could tell, one with Kat. He had felt slightly guilty about Kat for most of the day, but after this last letter of the day, those slight feelings were gone. If this letter, when read between the lines, didn't say 'Time Out Until Hogwarts', he didn't know what did.