Chapter 3
As the Knight Bus zipped through the winding streets, Harry's mind was a tumult of conflicting desires. The upcoming school year loomed on the horizon, and an overwhelming wish for normalcy consumed him. He yearned for a year where he wouldn't have to face strange creatures, save anyone from perilous situations, or confront the looming threat of Voldemort. The weight of his responsibilities, the burdens of his magical lineage, and the constant battles against dark forces left him longing for the simplicity of an ordinary life.
In the midst of these contemplations, a spark of hope emerged—the prospect of reuniting with Viktor and his welcoming family. The warmth and kindness he experienced during his brief encounter with them stood as a beacon of solace amid the chaos of his magical world.
Yet, as the Knight Bus slowed to a halt in front of Number 4 Privet Drive, the stark reality of his current situation confronted him. The Dursleys' home, a place devoid of understanding and acceptance, awaited him. Harry sighed, the dichotomy between his magical and mundane life ever-present. He stepped off the bus, carrying with him a silent wish for a school year unlike any he had experienced before.
As Harry wearily entered Number 4 Privet Drive, he could sense the brewing storm before Aunt Petunia even uttered a word. The air in the house seemed to thicken with disapproval as she confronted him. Petunia's voice dripped with disdain as she accused him of vanishing, labeled him a freak, and railed against the peculiar letters that seemed to follow him.
Feeling a spark of defiance, Harry, tired of the constant criticism, retorted, "Who sent you mail? And why does it bother you so much?" Petunia's eyes narrowed as she thrust a muggle letter toward him, as if it were a cursed object. The envelope, covered in an excessive number of stamps, seemed to symbolize everything Petunia despised.
"The postman had to HAND DELIVER THAT abomination to us! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!" she hissed, her anger escalating. As the tension in the Dursley household escalated, Aunt Petunia's disapproval reached a boiling point. In an attempt to exert control over the situation, Uncle Vernon, face turning a shade of puce, pointed to Harry's room and bellowed, "Get in there! You're not leaving until we say you can!"
Harry, unimpressed by their futile attempts to control him, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure Sirius Black, my godfather, would just love that. Being cooped up like a prisoner in the cupboard under the stairs. Good luck with that."
Vernon, furious at the mention of Sirius Black, the name that seemed to trigger a special kind of rage in the Dursleys, exploded, "Get out! Get out of this house, you ungrateful wretch! You're unwanted here!"
Harry, unfazed, merely nodded. "Alright, then. Bye." With a casual indifference, he packed up his few belongings, including a letter from Ron left on his deak probably having been delivered as he slept that night, before his vanishing act of course, and made his way toward the door. The realization that he was finally leaving the Dursleys' oppressive household filled him with a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. As the door slammed shut behind him, Harry took a deep breath, ready to face whatever awaited him beyond Privet Drive.
After being unceremoniously kicked out of the Dursleys' house, Harry found himself back on the Knight Bus, hurtling through the winding streets of London. The events of the evening replayed in his mind, and Harry couldn't shake the frustration that seemed to linger around every corner of his life.
As the Knight Bus dropped him off at Diagon Alley, Harry made his way to his room at the Leaky Cauldron. Once inside, he took a moment to collect his thoughts. The Weasleys' letter to the Dursleys and Ron's personal note lay on the small desk. After a deep breath, he decided to address the immediate concern — his response to Ron.
Harry took a quill and a piece of parchment, and with determination, he wrote:
Dear Ron,
Thanks a million for the invitation! I'd love to join you at the Quidditch World Cup. Unfortunately, the Dursleys decided that having me around is more trouble than it's worth. Long story, but the short version is I'm safe and sound at the Leaky Cauldron.
Can't wait to see you and the rest of the Weasleys. I'll be counting down the days until the World Cup.
Best,
Harry
With a sense of relief, Harry sealed the letter and sent it off with Hedwig, hoping for a quick reply from Ron so that he could extend his appreciation to the Weasleys for their kind gesture.
Ron's reply arrived within a few hours, and Harry eagerly opened the letter:
Harry,
mate, that's rough, It wasn’t because of the Muggle letter was it? Sorry if it made things worse. Mum thought it was a good idea to tell your folks about the World Cup trip. We're going to be in the Minister's box, the best seats in the stadium! Everyone at home is rooting for Ireland, but the Bulgarians, especially their Seeker Viktor Krum, are mental! This World Cup is going to be legendary; I can feel it. Can't wait to see you there!
Cheers,
Ron
Harry smiled at Ron's enthusiasm, feeling a bit better about his current situation. He appreciated Ron's support and looked forward to joining the Weasley family for the Quidditch World Cup.
Eager to share the news with Viktor, Harry took out a fresh piece of parchment and began to write:
Dear Viktor,
I hope this letter finds you well. I've safely returned from my trip to Gringotts, and after a discussion with my vault manager, we thought it would be best for me to stay in an inn for the time being. It won't be long, and I'll have my own place.
The reason I'm writing to you is to share some exciting news. My friend Ron and his family won tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, and they invited me to join them. We'll be sitting in the Minister's box, and I'm looking forward to seeing the match with them.
I also just found out that you're a professional Quidditch player, which is incredible! I can't wait to see you in action and cheer you on. I'll be rooting for Bulgaria, of course.
Please give my well wishes to Mamo and your dad. I'm sending this letter with my owl, Hedwig, and she might get a bit confused so please treat her with care, her favorite treat is bacon
Love
Your friend,
Harry
P.S. Please don't mind the scratched-out word. I'm so used to signing my letters like that with my friends, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable
With a sense of accomplishment, Harry sealed the letter and sent it off with Hedwig, hoping for a positive response from Viktor
Harry spent the next week finishing up his school shopping, carefully selecting his supplies and packing everything away. He diligently worked on his summer homework, catching up on what he had been unable to complete while stuck with the Dursleys. The anticipation of the Weasleys' arrival to pick him up for the Quidditch World Cup added an extra layer of excitement.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and the twins arrived at the Leaky Cauldron to collect him. Mrs. Weasley greeted him with a motherly fuss, asking if he was alright, if he had everything he needed, and offering assistance with shopping or any other concerns. Harry assured her that he had everything under control and not to worry.
After gathering Harry's things, the Weasleys and Harry headed to the fireplace to Floo to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley went first, demonstrating the proper technique, and then each member of the family followed suit. Finally, it was Harry's turn. With a bit of hesitation, he stepped into the emerald-green flames and called out, "The Burrow!"
In a whirlwind of magical fire, Harry was transported through the Floo Network and emerged in the cozy kitchen of the Burrow. The warmth of the Weasley home enveloped him, and he was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling household. Mrs. Weasley welcomed him with a smile, and the twins playfully nudged him, already scheming for the mischievous adventures that awaited them. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and happiness as he realized that, for the first time in a long while, he was surrounded by people who cared for him. The Burrow, with its magical charm and the lively presence of the Weasleys, truly felt like a second home.
Ron, eager for a break from the preparations for the Quidditch World Cup, seized the opportunity to pull Harry away and interrogate him about his summer adventures. The two friends climbed the narrow staircase leading to Ron's room, where they could have a bit of privacy amid the organized chaos of the Burrow.
"Come on, spill it, Harry! What have you been up to all summer?" Ron asked with an excited glint in his eyes.
Harry, settled on Ron's bed, shared the less magical aspects of his summer—his visit to Gringotts, school shopping, and the challenges of staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron listened intently, adding occasional comments or asking about the more amusing details.
As Harry recounted the non-magical escapades, the Burrow echoed with the sounds of laughter and lively chatter, providing a welcome break from the tension of the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.
In the quiet of the night, as the Burrow slept peacefully, Harry was awoken by a gentle tapping on the window of Ron's room. The room was dimly lit, and Harry could barely make out the silhouette of a large bird perched on the windowsill. He rushed to open the window, and there, in the soft glow of the moonlight, stood an Eastern Imperial Eagle. Its plumage displayed a beautiful blend of deep browns and gold, and its keen eyes bore a sense of noble intelligence. Tied to its leg was a letter, adorned with a simple ribbon. Harry carefully took the letter attached to the eagle's leg and eagerly unfolded it.
Dear Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you will accept my apologies for how late this letter is; the demands of training with the Bulgarian Quidditch team have kept me quite occupied. I'm truly looking forward to our reunion at the World Cup. Interestingly, I was on the verge of sending you a letter inviting you to join me, but then your letter arrived, explaining your plans to attend with your friend. I'm glad you'll be there.
As for Mamo and Bashta, don't be too surprised if you spot them in the crowd. They'll be thrilled to see you. And about signing your letters with "love," I find it genuinely sweet. Feel free to continue.
On a different note, your owl Hedwig is very charming. She seems to have taken a liking to me. I followed your suggestion and fed her bacon; she devoured it rather quickly. Thank you for the tip.
Allow me to introduce you to my companion, Zvezda. He's an Eastern Imperial Eagle and tends to judge me based on the recipients of my letters. I hope he likes you; he has a discerning taste. He is more of a fan of small rodents like squirrels. How did your hedwig become quite the fan of bacon? I have a feeling you will tell me when we next see each other.
I am very much looking forward to our meet-up!
Love,
Viktor
Harry looked up from Viktor's letter, and there on the window sill, Zvezda sat patiently, its piercing eyes fixed on Harry. Realizing that the majestic eagle was waiting for a response, Harry felt a sense of responsibility to reciprocate the courtesy.
"Ah, right," Harry muttered to himself, taking a seat and reaching for a fresh piece of parchment. He dipped his quill into the ink bottle, glancing occasionally at Zvezda as he gathered his thoughts.
Dear Viktor,
No need to apologize at all! I figured you were caught up with Quidditch preparations, and I'm just glad Hedwig found you in good spirits. Zvezda is absolutely stunning; I never thought an eagle could be so captivating.
As I'm writing this, your eagle seems to have taken a liking to me. It's gently nibbling my ear as if it approves of our correspondence, so I'm taking it as a good sign.
I'm eagerly anticipating our meet-up at the World Cup, and I'll hold you to your promise about the Snitch. Looking forward to seeing you soon!
Love,
Harry
Harry sealed the letter carefully, making sure it was securely attached to Zvezda's leg. With a gentle pat on the eagle's feathers, he whispered, "Take this to Viktor, buddy."
As Zvezda soared out of the window into the night sky, Harry couldn't help but smile. He climbed into bed, thoughts of the upcoming World Cup and the prospect of seeing Viktor occupying his mind. Sleep soon claimed him, and dreams of Quidditch matches and a nice quiet night with Viktor filled his night.