Not Alone
Nobody woke up the new resident of the house, the next day. He was left to wake up naturally, after a restless sleep that sadly hadn’t replenished much of his energy and composure.
Now, he found out that waking up hopeless in an alien environment after such a fraught experience like he’d had before going to bed was petrifying. And while the dread he’d felt waking up in his four-poster bed in his dorm room at Gryffindor Tower for the first few times had been soothed by the promise of attending magical lessons in a magical castle, the bigger dread of waking up in this foreign house in this foreign land which he shared with foreign people was amplified instead with the knowledge that he was going to experience this for the far foreseeable future. Without hope to reconnect with his friends, at that, as Hedwig couldn’t possibly fly this far – poor, poor Hedwig.
Still, he wouldn’t – couldn’t – be a bad houseguest, lazing about all day in this big, comfy, air-conditioned bedroom that they had so graciously lent him. He had to get up and… well, maybe they would have chores for him to do, like the Dursleys had made him do, and like the Weasley children sometimes did. He certainly wouldn’t have breakfast, as the sunlight filtering through the heavy cream curtain of the lone window by his bed – no, the bed – was too strong for early morning, but he was used to having little to eat, anyway, while with the Dursleys.
With that thought firmly in mind, which made for a familiar plan on a familiar path, his petrification dissipated slowly but surely and, soon, he could unlock his muscles to do the motions of getting up and inspecting himself.
The suitcase had included three sets of pyjamas, and “Cousin Jennifer” had ordered him – though in much nicer words than what Aunt Petunia would have said – to dress in a pair of those before bed, after taking off his contact lenses, but he was sure he shouldn’t do chores in pyjamas, so he tentatively peeked into the suitcase and contemplated what he ought to wear now. Everything in it was alien, though, not his, even down to the suitcase itself, and he was hesitant even to just touch it; it would be like stealing and wearing and using somebody else’s things. Last night, he had been ironically saved from this by the numbness he’d been in all day; but today, with a plan in mind, he couldn’t avoid feeling and thinking.
But he couldn’t dither all day, too, could he? Just like he couldn’t laze about.
“Well, I’m now Henry Hammond, aren’t I? These things are supposed to be mine, aren’t they?” He said aloud to himself, slowly, trying to instill it in his mind meanwhile.
And then, at long last, he selected a blue polo shirt that matched the contact lenses he mustn’t forget to wear, also a pair of grey slacks that looked formal enough but bearable in a summer day, especially if he needed to do chores, and the black-and-white trainers plus the blue striped socks he’d worn yesterday.
Having taken a shower and looking more or less presentable didn’t make him less awkward and unsure, though, it turned out. Worse, he’d forgotten to turn off the air conditioner before exiting the bedroom – what an ungrateful brat indeed!
He looked round the hallway beyond the bedroom after hurriedly rectifying his mistake, but it was still as empty and clean as when he’d traversed it to go to the shared bathroom for this floor – the second and topmost story of the house. The other three bedrooms on this floor were empty – and open – as well, and the open sitting area by the stairs wasn’t occupied. And he could hear nothing from downstairs, except for occasional bird noises outside and even rarer sounds of traffic farther away.
`Have I been abandoned again? Here?`
His heart turned to ice, it felt, and plopped to the bottom of his belly.
But still, he went down the stairs, to check, to see for himself, to face whatever he was going to face, just like months ago in the Chamber.
Undesirable states, events and chores wouldn’t leave simply by his wish, after all, however fervently he wished it, or his stay with the Dursleys and a part of his schooling at Hogwarts wouldn’t have been so aweful. He simply must do it; or rather, bear with it. And just like before, he couldn’t turn to an adult for help.
Still, it was awefully hard to bear, when downstairs – the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the two studies, even the downstairs bathroom and the washing room – turned out to be as empty as upstairs; with no note left signifying where the people from the previous day were gone to, at that.
On one hand, it was surprising, to be seemingly entrusted with the house while the family were out. But on the other hand….
His breath hitched.
`No, I’m just overreacting. There must be a reason. Maybe they thought to be decent by not waking me up before they went out for lunch. I should do the decent thing, too, then, shouldn’t I? There’s no dishes to wash, no clothes to wash either, and everything’s clean, but maybe I could tidy up the yards?`
He went to the back door, with his trembling hands clenched inside his trouser pockets.
But, before he could make himself open the door, it opened from outside, nearly hitting him as it swung inward.
And “Cousin Jennifer” stood there, carrying a few books in one arm, staring at him with surprise and confusion that quickly turned into apology and worry.
The awkward standoff didn’t last long. But, unlike with Aunt Petunia, what this woman said was, “Oh! Sorry there, Harry – may I call you Harry? I didn’t hear you wake up, so I thought the kitchen’s still empty. – Um, are you going somewhere? Is it urgent? You’ve just arrived. Can it wait? I’ll drive you, if it’s urgent. But if not, can you wait till tomorrow at least? You looked so tired, I’m just worried for you. – Oh! You haven’t had lunch, have you? Come on, I’ll make us something. Do you mind eating sandwiches? It’s a nice day outside, if you’d like to have a picnic in the back garden. Think I’ve got some lemonade left in the fridge, if the girls haven’t drunk it all. They’re over at their friends’ for the day, so it’s just us till dinnertime, but Daddy said he’ll join us after lunch if he can.”
She was as bubbly as Hermione, especially when nervous like this, but she didn’t immediately usher this invader of the household away somewhere, or dictate what he ought to do, unlike Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, let alone Aunt Petunia.
And he really, really, really didn’t know what to do with this type of woman.
“Um, no, Ma’am, it’s all right,” he stammered, making use of one of his stock phrases for whenever he was stumped or would like to avoid certain things. “Um, just, thank you so much for having me here for the night. I’m so sorry I was a bad guest yesterday. Um, could I help you, Ma’am? If you haven’t had lunch yet, I could make it for you?”
The lady of the house frowned. But even her frown was different from the other females’ in his life.
“If it’s okay with you, maybe we could have a picnic together, just the two of us?” she offered. She sounded just as awkward and tentative as he was! If he hadn’t heard it himself, he wouldn’t have believed it. But even though he’d heard it just now, he could barely believe it!
They ended up making the sandwiches – experimenting with the sandwiches – together, and ate the resulting food together in the tree house on the back yard, and talked together about things from gardening tricks to highlights of their respective lives meanwhile, and Harry felt like he’d been dropped into a prolonged state of dreaming.
It was a nice dream, though, and he’d rather stay dreaming forever than returning to consciousness only to find himself back inside Privet Drive number four.
It was made even better when, shortly after lunch, Major General George Hammond, the lord of the house and Cousin Jennifer’s father, joined them especially to show him – the freak, the unwanted boy – round the city.
He felt special.
This dream was special.