Daddy Get Me Out Of Here

Daddy Get Me Out of Here

Chapter 1

Ron and Hermione were both eating breakfast in silence. It was an unusually calm summer at the Burrow. The twins, Fred and George, were being more than usually secretive and so far had spent most of the holiday holed up in their room. Bill, Charlie and Percy were all away working, of course, and Ginny was spending two weeks with a friend. This morning Ron's father, Arthur, was already at work, and his mother Molly was out shopping.

"For such a big family, it's bloody quiet," Ron muttered.

Hermione smiled without looking up from the book she was reading. She was an only child herself, and with both her parents working, she was well used to solitude. She imagined that Ron found long silences strange.

Actually, Ron often cherished the occasional moment of peace, especially now that he was in his middle teens and found himself inclined for privacy. He used to thrive on the noisy companionship of family, but over the past year he'd taken to shutting himself in the bathroom just to get a moment's peace. However, solitude was one thing; finding himself alone with Hermione on a quiet morning like this was another. He'd started seeing her in a different light since the last year's ball; lately he found himself uncharacteristically at a loss for words whenever they were alone together. He never felt this awkwardness when Harry was with them - but Harry had returned to the Dursleys' at the end of term as usual, and according to Dumbledore he was to stay there until mid-August at least for his own safety. They'd received an owl from him every few days, but there had been nothing of any interest - nothing that could be used as a basis for conversation, anyway.

Hermione sighed suddenly and slammed her book shut. "I can't concentrate."

Ron quickly turned his gaze from her to the kitchen window, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. Sparrows were flocking around a bird feeder outside. "Why, what's up?" he asked with his mouth full.

"I keep thinking about Harry. I wonder how he is."

"Well, we got an owl from him just yesterday."

"I know, but he didn't really say much, did he?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't suppose there's much for him to tell, stuck out there. I just wish we had more to tell him."

"I'm not just talking about You-Know-Who. He's stuck out there with his relatives - don't you think he'd have something to say? I mean, he hates it there!"

Ron shook his head. Hermione just didn't understand sometimes. Did she think Harry was going to send them regular, epic letters exploring how emotionally scarred he was by his so-called family?

"Hermione, Harry doesn't like making a fuss! He's not going to want to tell us every detail of how fed up he is!"

Hermione clicked her tongue exasperatedly. "Boys!" she muttered. She shook her head and looked over at the window, sighing. But she couldn't remain silent for long, and in less than a minute she had turned back Ron, more determined than ever. "Look, Ron - what's the point in him being our friend if he's not going to tell us how he is? Aren't you worried about him?"

"I don't like him being there anymore than you do," said Ron, a bit impatiently. "But if things were really bad like they were after the first year, he'd tell me."

"Are you sure of that?"

When he didn't reply, she turned and reached over to her bag, and pulled out a small sheaf of papers. "Look - this is what's actually got me worried. His letters," she said.

Ron stared at the papers in her hand. "Those are all his letters?"

"Yes. I've been keeping them."

"Why?" Ron asked, incredulously.

"Because some people like to keep letters, Ronald! Letters from friends? For a keepsake? Oh, you don't understand..." She unfolded the parchments, shaking her head. "Look - just look at these again," she said. "I mean, look at them all together. Don't you think they sound a bit odd?"

Ron glanced over each page. They were all letters sent that summer; most were either to Hermione or to the both of them, though there were some addressed only to Ron. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?" she asked. "Honestly, I can't believe you throw your best friend's letters in the bin."

"Why? It's not like I didn't read them!"

She didn't argue, thank God. Ron silently thanked his stars that he wasn't as sentimental as Hermione, and began to read them in turn.

Hi Ron,

How's it going? Nothing much happening here. We're going to the cinema tomorrow to celebrate Dudley's birthday.

Hope your summer's going well.

Harry

______________

Hi Hermione,

How's it going? Nothing much happening here. We're going to the cinema tomorrow to celebrate Dudley's birthday.

Hope your summer's going well.

Love, Harry

______________

Hi Hermione,

Hope you're having a good summer.

Everything here's great. Let me know what you're up to.

Love, Harry

_______________

Hi Guys,

Glad to hear you're both at the Burrow now.

Things here have been pretty uneventful. Everything's fine though.

Take care,

Harry.

________________

There were about ten letters in all, all equally short.

"He doesn't even ask us about You-Know-Who, or the Death Eaters, or anything," said Hermione. "You'd think he'd be asking us if we'd seen or heard anything."

Ron frowned as he leafed through the letters. When he'd read them before he'd only been looking two things - reports Harry might have about Voldemort, or alerts that things had become intolerable with the Dursleys' again. Harry had said nothing about either, so he'd been content with that. He'd not paid much attention to the tone. Now that he was looking at them all together, he realized that they were each made up of roughly the same set of phrases in a varying order. Hermione was right - there was something odd about this.

"It doesn't really sound like him, does it?" he muttered.

"Ron," said Hermione, with narrowed eyes, "I don't think it is him!"

"What are you talking about? This is his handwriting and everything."

"I know. But - the way each letter sounds the same, and they're so abrupt - I think someone's telling him what to write and checking it before he sends it!"

"You think his aunt and uncle would go that far?"

Hermione sat back, folding her arms. "Well. You know them better than I do," she said significantly.

Ron had only seen Harry's relatives up close a couple of times - the most memorable being the night he and his brothers pulled Harry from his barred-up bedroom window one summer. Harry had been locked in there and was being fed nothing but soup.

"You're right," he said reluctantly. "It's exactly the sort of thing they'd do."

"And why would they bother monitoring his letters, unless there was something to hide?" Hermione frowned.

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, Hermione. I know it sounds dodgy, but still, it might not mean anything. They're scared of him, especially now they think he has a murderer godfather. They probably want to make sure Harry isn't telling anyone anything that would make him want to pay a visit."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose so. But I don't like it. Harry promised us he'd write at least once a week so that we'd know he's okay. But if he can't write without his relatives breathing down his neck, he may as well not be writing at all."

Ron watched her as she sipped from her mug of tea. "Do you think we should tell Dumbledore? Or Sirius?"

"I don't know. Dumbledore must be so busy right now that You-Know-Who is back. And it's still not safe for Sirius to be seen. Besides, what if we're wrong? If Harry isn't in any trouble now, think of the trouble we'd get him into if we got wizards and witches showing up there!"

"Maybe mum would know what to do."

"Oh Ron, your mum thinks of Harry as one of her own! If she even thought there was something wrong she'd be over there in an instant, ready to hex them all!"

Ron finished the toast he was eating.

"All right," he said finally. "If we can't risk getting anyone else to go over there, we'll have to check on him ourselves, that's all."

He expected Hermione to baulk at this idea, too - but to his surprise, she beamed at him.

"I was hoping you'd say that!"

"All right," he said, smiling back. "Great. Now we've got to figure out how we're going to get there, and how we're going to get to Harry without his relatives knowing."

"I have an idea for how to get there. We can sneak out then hail the Knight Bus."

"Cool!" said Ron.

"Have you used it before?"

"No, but Harry told me it was a really fun way to get around."

"Did he? Because he told me it nearly made him sick... anyway, I don't know how we're going to avoid Harry's relatives. They'll probably flip if they see us there."

"Well..." Ron said, hesitantly, "we could use his invisibility cloak."

"That's no help," said Hermione impatiently. "We'll need to be invisible to get to the cloak!"

"Er - no, we won't, actually. I've got it."

Hermione frowned. "Why do you have Harry's cloak?"

Ron sighed, and began to explain. While he and Harry were packing for their journey from Hogwarts to King's Cross, Harry had surrendered his most treasured possessions to him. Everything except his owl, who could take care of herself, and his wand, which never left his side. The cloak, his Firebolt, his photograph album - everything that meant the world to him - he'd left with Ron.

"I just don't know what they're going to be like," he had said, meaning the Dursleys'. "Not after what happened last summer with Aunt Marge. They might try to confiscate everything, or burn it, or something. I just don't want to have anything near them that I'm not willing to lose."

He didn't know what they might do with his things, Ron thought. He didn't know what they might do with him, either.

He related to Hermione the conversation he and Harry had. He felt stupid for not recognizing the full implication of Harry's concerns at the time. As he'd expected, it made Hermione more worried about Harry than ever.

"Gosh, Ron - Harry's weird letters, now this... I'm sure there's something wrong. From what you've said it sounds like he was expecting trouble."

"I know," Ron said moodily. "I should have realized."

But Hermione surprised him. "It's not your fault. He always sounds so apathetic when he mentions them; it's easy to miss what he's actually telling you."

Ron nodded.

"So, we do have the cloak," Hermione reflected. "That's a stroke of luck."

"Yeah," said Ron, feeling a little better. "I thought we could use it because it's enchanted, so it wouldn't exactly be using magic if we wore it."

"No," Hermione agreed, "just borrowing some of James Potter's magic."

The cloak had once belonged to Harry's father. Of all his possessions, it was perhaps the most important to Harry. Ron fetched it from his trunk (it took him a few minutes to find it) and he and Hermione examined it silently. It seemed to both of them somehow sacred.

"If we were ever going to borrow Harry's father's cloak, what better use could we put it to?" Hermione said at last, in a low voice.

Ron raised his eyes from the cloak to look at her. When he saw her gazing seriously at him, he nodded.

"Let's go tonight."

"Okay. Help me put together some sandwiches and things before your mum gets back."

Once they had a bag packed, Ron wrote a diplomatic letter of explanation to his mum and left it on his pillow. That way, he hoped it would be a while before anyone realized what they'd done.

Armed with Harry's cloak, sandwiches and their wands, they walked a mile down narrow country lanes, with hedges on either side. As they walked Ron thought about the last day he saw Harry - especially the moment he had gravely handed over his broom and the bag containing the cloak. He was very glad they were leaving that night. The more he thought of Harry giving up his possessions to him, and the more he thought about those letters, the more uneasy he felt.

Once they were well away from the Burrow, Ron drew out his wand and held it out into the road. "I'm not really doing magic, am I?" he said to Hermione. "I mean, does summoning the Knight Bus count as underage magic?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so-" she began, but she was interrupted by a sudden bang and a purple bus stood before them.