In which Harry gets a long awaited letter
Harry fiddled with the letter in his hand, not sure if he wanted to open it or not. Hermione's handwriting on the outside of the letter was the cause of his hesitance. They were nearly four weeks into summer break, two weeks since his first visit to Aquarius House. Harry knew from Sirius that Hermione and the Weasleys had moved into the primary Black family home shortly thereafter. Harry could excuse not writing for those first couple of weeks at home, seeing as Ron and Hermione would be busy with the typical flurry of home-from-school activities. But two weeks - fourteen days - after they both moved into a house together and started spending every day with each other, neither of them had sent word, while they were in a house owned by his godfather to boot? Even though Sirius had told him weeks ago that Dumbledore had asked his friends to restrict their communication, he had tried to give them the benefit of the doubt...which got harder and harder as summer wore on.
Harry thought he would have gone mad this summer if it weren't for the daily (sometimes multiple times per day) mirror calls with Sirius and the several trips he had taken to Aquarius House. Other than Sirius and the occasional conversation with Remus, he was utterly cut off from other wizards. After learning of owl ordering from his godfather (and why had no one told him about the ability to place mail orders? That would have been easier than begging spare parchment and ink off his friends towards the end of the school year when he ran out), he had sent off a few requests for catalogs with Hedwig, but she had returned quickly with his notes still clasped in her talons. He hadn't been sure why his letters weren't going out now when he had been able to send letters to Sirius earlier in summer, but when he mentioned it to his godfather on their next mirror call, Sirius had nearly gone white with anger. On Sirius's instructions, they had quickly tested it by each sending each other a letter, and both were returned by their owls undelivered. Through Sirius's ranting, Harry was able to pick up that interfering with owl post was a criminal offense, and that someone (Sirius heavily suspected Dumbledore) had placed an owl ward on Harry, likely after it became clear that Sirius wouldn't be blindly following orders this summer. In the end, Harry circumvented the ward by just asking Sirius to order for him and then picking up his orders at Aquarius House the next time he stopped by. With the new access to a variety of shops, and Sirius's permission to shamelessly spend from the Black vaults, Harry was rapidly collecting more belongings than he had ever owned in his entire life. His bedroom at Aquarius House was quickly filling up with Quidditch memorabilia, new clothing, books, luxury owl items for Hedwig, and various other wizarding inventions and games. Sirius had taken the firm stance that anything in the catalogs that Harry spent more than a moment or two considering should be ordered and kept safe for him at Aquarius House.
The sprawling Black family estate was quickly becoming a refuge to Harry. He wasn't able to sneak away every day, but whenever the Dursleys were out or he managed to finish his chores early in the day, he'd head over to a corner of Magnolia Crescent Street that was tucked away and hidden behind converging lines of shrubs, and portkey away. Sometimes Sirius was able to join him, others he'd call Harry on the mirrors when he felt the manors ward's being tripped and let Harry know that he wasn't available right then, but that Harry was, of course, welcome to stay. Harry didn't know which he preferred - when he was alone or when Sirius was free to join him.
When it was just Harry, he could relax in the peace and quiet that was Aquarius House, with the waves as background noise to his quiet reading in the library as he finished his summer homework much earlier than normal. Harry's summers were usually either full of hateful encounters with the Dursleys or the hustle and bustle of the Burrow, and Harry found he quite liked having a large house to himself full of odds and ends that he could wander through and views of the ocean at every turn that he could pause to admire. Harry hadn't experienced much peace in his life, but he thought he discovered the meaning of the word while spending those hours of solitude in Sirius's house. Even when he was enjoying the seclusion and knew that the house was completely empty of any other living souls except for him, there was something about Aquarius House that felt... alive. Harry imagined a watchful presence that followed him with unseeing eyes from room to room, keeping him company. It didn't feel uncomfortable or creepy. It reminded him of when he, Ron, and Hermione sat quietly around the fire in the Gryffindor common room, each occupied with their own thoughts. Or when he and Sirus floated in the ocean - close enough to glance at each other without moving their heads, but not touching. Harry didn't know how he knew, but whatever was keeping him company while he was in Aquarius House meant him no harm, it felt like a companion, like a friend, or maybe even like family.
Harry could still feel the something that lived in Aquarius House when Sirius was there with him, but he usually had so much fun with his godfather that he rarely paid attention to it. They'd spend the day roughhousing with Sirius transformed as Padfoot, swimming in the ocean together, or with Harry attempting to teach Sirius how to cook in the massive kitchen on the ground floor. But every visit included Harry's favorite way to spend time together - exchanging stories. For every one story of his life that Harry told, Sirius would offer up two stories about Harry's parents or Sirius's own life. Sirius was even working on tracking down a Pensieve that had once belonged to his grandfather and promised he'd share as many memories as he could for Harry to view.
Harry knew he'd never really know his parents; he'd never know what his mum's hugs would feel like or what comfort food she would make him when he was sick. He'd never experience going to a professional quidditch game with his dad or hear him cheering Harry on from the stands at his own game. He'd never get advice from them on how to finish any challenging schoolwork, managing professors that irritated him, or even on any of his schoolmates who caught his eye romantically. Harry would never see them interact with each other and get to witness the great love he'd heard so much about.
But at least, thanks to Sirius, he now knew about them. He knew his mother preferred coffee to tea and was a "beastie" (Sirius's words, but Remus hadn't disagreed from where he crowded up behind Sirius in the mirror) before she had at least two cups in the morning. Harry knew his father excelled at transfiguration but had a love for herbology, even though he didn't have a natural green thumb and would kill any plant in his care within a matter of weeks. Sirius was positive that despite his love of pranking, James would have been the type of father to give the "I'm not mad, just disappointed" speech whenever Harry got into trouble at school. Remus countered that his mother would probably have been the type to send a howler.
Harry heard about the many, many ways in which James had sought out Lily's attention and affections while they were in school until he finally backed off in their sixth year after Harry's grandfather, ultimately learning about the extent to which James had pursued her, gave both James and Sirius a firm lecture about respecting a witches right to say no and be "left the hell alone, for Merlin's sake boys." Sirius told Harry about Lily approaching James halfway through their seventh year and asking him if he'd ever get around to asking her out again, seeing as he was "finally tolerable enough" that she might say yes. James had promptly transfigured a nearby pillow into a bouquet of roses and lilies and asked Harry's mother if she'd join him in Hogsmeade for the next visit, and they had been happy together for the rest of their lives. Sirius told Harry that while they hadn't been trying to have a child quite so young, especially in the middle of a war, he had never seen either James or Lily so happy as the day they had told their friends they were expecting.
After two weeks of shared memories and stories, Harry finally felt like he could think of his parents as the people they were, not just abstract concepts. Sirius had helped James and Lily Potter become more to him than just their absence in his life; they were even more than the legend built around them of heroic fighters who had stood between their son and their murderer.
In return, Harry had shared all the stories of his exploits at Hogwarts with Sirius. His godfather had cheered at Harry's retelling of the day he caught his first snitch in his mouth as if he were in the stands along with the rest of the school, and laughed so hard he cried when Harry dramatically reenacted Hermione's first and only foray into violence when she slapped Draco Malfoy after he mouthed off one too many times in third year. Sirius had gripped his chair with white knuckles throughout Harry's accounting of his visit to the Chamber of Secrets. Afterwards, he cursed every professor at Hogwarts for their incompetence but still suggested they change Harry's name legally to include "Basilisk-Slayer" so everyone would know how bad-ass his godson was.
Harry had even told Sirius things he had never told anyone else before, not even Ron and Hermione. He told Sirius about the time when he was nine, the Dursleys had locked him in the cupboard before they left for a four-day holiday with a single bottle of water, and Harry genuinely thought he would die from the thirst by the time they returned. He confided in Sirius about Ron's abandonment and anger after the Goblet of Fire spat out his name as the fourth champion, how he wasn't sure he should have forgiven his friend so quickly after such a token apology, and his worries that Ron would abandon him again one day. Harry confessed that when he finally had succeeded in casting a corporeal Patronus in third year, he couldn't even feel proud of it because it felt like the grief of losing his father hit him all over again, after he fooled himself into believing that somehow his father had returned from the grave to save them all, only to realize that once again no one was coming to save him and he'd have to save himself.
On one quiet night, when they were back on the beach watching the sunset, with halting words Harry explained that he had felt a persistent sense of loneliness for most of his life. He was never a true part of the Dursleys family, and even before he knew he was magical, he had a distinct "otherness" that kept other kids his age at a distance. Then Harry came to Hogwarts and was set upon a pedestal at all times because of the "Boy-Who-Lived" mythos, except for when his classmates were tearing him down from it because he lost Gryffindor too many points, or he was the Heir of Slytherin, or because he cheated to get in the Triwizard Tournament.
They hadn't spoken about the graveyard yet. Harry was still working up to talking about that night.
But through it all, Sirus had listened. He'd cheered in the right places and raged on Harry's behalf during the stories Harry still felt like he had to swallow down his own anger about, and after the stories that were harder to talk about, he'd hold Harry tight and remind him that Harry didn't deserve what he had been through, either at the hands of Voldemort or the adults in his life that should have known better.
Which brought Harry back to the letter that had been delivered this afternoon. Harry knew that if Pigwidgeon had made it through whatever owl wards had "mysteriously" sprung up, then it was likely this letter was sent with Dumbledore's approval. Sirius and Remus hadn't told anyone they had been in contact with Harry since he left Hogwarts. His friends, the Weasleys, and Dumbledore all thought Harry had been twiddling his thumbs in Privet Drive all summer, none-the-wiser that they were all together. Although Sirius had been spelled to silence on the specific details from some charm he couldn't even name, Harry had been informed that they had all gathered at the main Black property, and for the last two weeks, they had been working to clear it out and make it fit for habitation. After Harry muttered he'd like to see some of the Black family heirlooms and artifacts, Sirius had been sneaking everything Molly Weasley had decided needed to be thrown away over to Aquarius House for Harry to pick through. Harry got the feeling Sirius was treating it all as one big prank he was playing on the Weasley matriarch and was taking great joy in the creeping around. Sirius had locked the really dangerous stuff in a storage room somewhere up on the third floor, and had asked Harry not to go in there without supervision, but Harry had been content to look at the things deemed not dangerous, or "only-kind-of-dangerous."
So far, Harry's favorites include a self-refilling glass of butterbeer, a set of wizard's chess pieces that was comprised entirely of magical creatures, a mysterious robe that they guessed changed appearance depending on what the wearer's pants looked like, and a bouquet of flowers crafted from precious gems and silver that somehow still smelled like they were just plucked from a garden (they also had thorns that would try and draw blood if you weren't paying attention, but Harry was willing to overlook this).
Harry had been trying not to think about the fact that for every object Sirius brought over from the other Black property for him to look at, Ron and Hermione had probably already seen it. Even though these things were his heritage, and he was the heir to everything housed in any Black property, he was the last one to see them. And even though this was by far the best summer of his life, and he was enjoying Sirius's company and the occasional day of solitude at Aquarius House, he was still annoyed that Ron and Hermione had been together for weeks and hadn't bothered to send him a letter at all, just because Dumbledore told them so.
But Harry knew how convincing Dumbledore was; how the headmaster always seemed to know the right thing to do, and when he'd look at you over his glasses, he'd always give the impression that he was doing what was best for you and so to do the opposite of what he asked would be utter foolishness. Sirius hadn't outright blamed Dumbledore for anything, clearly trying to remain civil when speaking about Dumbledore while Harry would likely still have to interact with him in the future.
But through various conversations he'd had with his godfather, Harry felt like he'd finally had the wool removed from his eyes. Why didn't Dumbledore insist on a trial for Sirius? Either way back when he was first arrested, or back in third year after the headmaster knew for sure Sirius was innocent? Why hadn't Dumbledore found some solution to get Harry out of the Triwizard tournament, or at least advised Harry to do the bare minimum to meet the requirements but not put himself in further danger? In third year, why hadn't Dumbledore insisted on teaching those capable of it the Patronus charm to try and lighten the strain the students all felt from having the dementors nearby? Or even provided any sort of mental counseling to help those affected. At the bare minimum, they could have just served chocolate with every meal. Why hadn't Dumbledore done more in second year to stop the Basilisk attacks - if a thirteen-year-old Hermione could sort out that it was a Basilisk, then why couldn't someone as experienced and educated as the headmaster? Why had the Sorcerer's Stone been stored at Hogwarts when it put every student in danger? And why, why, had Harry been given to the Dursleys and then never checked up on again?
Harry thought the answers to these questions were either that Dumbledore was criminally negligent and shouldn't hold any position of authority over children or that he just wasn't nearly as capable and perceptive as everyone thought. Harry wasn't sure which answer he'd prefer to be true.
So, on the one hand, Harry could understand why Ron and Hermione would fall in line and do as Dumbledore ordered. As far as he knew, the headmaster had never let either of his friends down in such a colossal and personal way as Harry had been let down. So he doubted they would have reason to doubt Dumbledore's wisdom. But on the other hand, Harry wished they had ranked his friendship a bit higher than their obedience. Telling himself he had stalled long enough, Harry slid his thumb under the seal to open the letter.
Dear Harry,
I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write, things have been so busy in the last few weeks this is the first time I found the time to get a letter written. I can't tell you much about where we are or what we've been doing, but I'm with the Weasleys, and we're staying somewhere new this summer. It's not the most pleasant place, but there's been lots of interesting things to look at and some new books to study, although some are pretty dark. Of course, I don't read those. Mrs. Weasley has been getting rid of them.
The edges of the letter were crumpling slightly; his grip had gotten so tight. He knew Sirius was actually saving everything, and nothing was being lost. Still, Hermione's casualness when talking about throwing away things that didn't belong to either her or Mrs. Weasley was infuriating to him.
We've been told that you'll need to spend the whole summer with your relatives, and I'm so sorry, Harry. I know that's not what you would wish for your summer. I hope they are treating you alright, but please write to Ron or me if they cross any lines. I'm not sure what we could manage, but we'll tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and maybe they can interfere. I don't know if you're subscribed to the Daily Prophet or have heard from Sirius at all this summer, but he's been very reckless lately. He's on some wild hare idea to sue the ministry, and he thinks it'll somehow clear his name. We're all quite worried about him. Dumbledore says this plan puts him in ever so much danger. If you are exchanging letters with him, maybe you can convince him to change course.
Ah, Harry thinks, this is why Dumbledore allowed the letter through. He wants me to talk Sirius into dropping the case.
Harry quickly skims the rest of the letter to confirm it contains no other important information. Hermione rambles on about the summer coursework she's already completed and what she still needs to research but has been "too busy to finish." There are a few lines about Ron and the antics Fred and George have gotten up to know that they're of age and out of school, but nothing that could give away where they are or why they've gathered together. Harry has another moment where he's so intensely grateful for Sirius and his insistence on telling Harry everything he could this summer.
Harry tosses Hermione's letter on the desk and settles back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Harry could reply. He was sure a return letter would also be free to pass through if Hermione's letter was allowed through the mail ward. But, well, Hary didn't want to. Hermione's letter contained nothing of real substance. Any response Harry sent back would be similarly vague. He wouldn't share anything about his time with Sirius, and what else would he talk about? Oh, Hermione, I scrubbed the kitchen floor for an hour this morning. I think by the time I was done, you could have licked it and not picked up a speck of dust. Last night at dinner, my Uncle Vernon ranted about my hair and my no-good parents for a quarter of an hour.
Maybe it was better just to leave it. They could talk when they saw each other next - either when everyone returned to school or when Sirius got custody of Harry after clearing his name. Harry wasn't sure where he'd end up staying if the latter happened. Harry insisted that Dumbledore would insist on him moving in wherever the Weasleys and Hermione were staying. Sirius insisted that Dumbledore could suck an egg if he thought the two of them would be shut up in that dungeon of a house for a single minute when they didn't have to.
And the days in which Sirius had to spend time there might be coming to a close as the date for Sirus's day in court was rapidly approaching. Just last night, Sirius had shared that Nathaniel was able to schedule the case for the following week. Harry had a feeling that lawsuits didn't usually progress through the Ministry bureaucracy quite so quickly but that Sirius had greased the wheels with a rather large portion of the Black family vaults. Sirius seemed determined to get things wrapped up before Harry's birthday, aiming to have Harry well away from the Dursleys and in his custody by the time Harry turned fifteen.
At a bit of a loss for what to do with his evening, Harry glanced around the room, looking for something to occupy him. The Dursleys were out; Dudley had asked for some pounds to see a movie, and Aunt Petunia had insisted on making a day of it since "Dudders was so popular this summer" and hadn't spent enough time with his parents. Of course, Dudley was popular because all the pocket money his parents gave him went towards paying off older boys to buy Dudley and his gang of friends cigarettes and cheap beer. Harry knew Sirius wasn't at Aquarius House today as he had an appointment with his solicitor to provide more pensive memories for evidence, and Harry didn't feel like spending the evening alone. Since he had completed a rather nasty essay for Potions just that morning, he wasn't inclined to do any more coursework today.
Standing from his bed, Harry began to pace the length of his bedroom. As he passed her for the third time, Hedwig let out an annoyed hoot on her perch before facing the wall and shoving her head back under her wing. Harry knew he was disturbing her nap, but he couldn't shake this restless feeling. His hands kept clenching, and it felt like someone had let loose a few fluttering snitches in his stomach. Harry's throat felt tight like it did whenever he almost brought up the third task with Sirius. Stopping abruptly in the center of his room, Harry's eyes fell once more on Hermione's letter and felt as his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and suddenly he realized that he was blindingly, toweringly angry.
Every excuse he had told himself earlier to defend his friends' actions, that they were busy at the start of summer and then were restricted by Dumbledore, seemed so lackluster that he couldn't continue to reassure himself with that reasoning. Without letting himself stop and reconsider, Harry decided that he would be sending a response letter after all, although its contents would certainly not be what Hermione might be expecting.
Throwing himself into his desk chair, Harry grabbed the closest bit of parchment and ink and set himself loose on the paper.
Dear Hermione...