Table Of ContentChapter 1: A Letter From Surrey
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=1
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or this fictional universe. JK
Rowling, some publishers, and some film companies own everything. I'm not
making anything from this except a hobby.
Summary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have
walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and
disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five
books. Have fun!
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter One: A Letter from Surrey
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If there was anything that Harry Potter liked more than chocolate frogs or
sugar quills, it was getting mail from his friends. Sometimes, that had been all
that had got him through those miserable summers with the Dursleys. He
honestly didn't know how he'd managed to make it through the monotonous
vacations back before he'd known Ron and Hermione and Dean and Seamus and
Remus and NevilleÖ Of course, there'd been that awful summer when Dobby
had charmed all the owls away, when his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had
been furious that he'd spent an entire year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry. They hadn't wanted him to go, which actually puzzled Harry
whenever he thought about it. It had got him out of their hair for an entire school
year. You'd think they'd have been delighted to send him off to any boarding
school, even if it was one that taught magic. So what if they hated magic? They
hated him more.
"Going to open that, mate?" Ron asked between bites.
"Yeah," Harry answered without looking up. It was no wonder that seeing
this letter had brought to mind all those times he'd been stuck at the Dursleys and
gasping for mail from his friends. He was at school now, sixth year, surrounded
by happy Gryffindors gulping down a quick lunch -- although how anybody
could be happy before double Potions was a good guess -- and it seemed he'd got
a letter, delivered by magic owl, from those same Dursleys, the ones who hated
anything magical.
Nah, couldn't be, Harry decided. It was a joke, right? From Fred and
George, even though Harry had no idea how the twins could have gotten his
Muggle address. Sure, sure, they could find his house, if they had another
enchanted car, that is, but to know how to write out the location of it, Muggle
style? But there it was, written right there on the envelope: 4 Privet Drive, Little
Whinging, SurreyÖ.
Harry sighed, thinking it less and less likely this could be a joke. Fred and
George's father might work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department at the
Ministry of Magic, but since he'd once asked Harry what the precise purpose of a
rubber duck was, Harry didn't think that Mr Weasley understood much at all
about Muggles. And this letterÖ well, even if you ignored the address, it had
Muggle written all over it. The envelope wasn't made of a nice parchment, it was
just paper, and long and white like the envelopes Uncle Vernon used for
business. Besides, a return address? Wizarding letters didn't need those, and they
certainly didn't bear postage!
Sighing, Harry began picking at the little profile of the Queen, just for
something to do. It was better than opening the letter, that was for sure. In over
five years, the Dursleys had never once written him at school. It couldn't be a
good sign that they were starting now.
"Eh, Harry?" Ron prompted again, this time with his mouth full. "You want
me to open it for you?"
"Nah." Harry shook his head. "I just thinkÖ maybe it'd be better if I waited
a bit. Yeah. Until after Potions, you know. Best to go into that with a clear head.
That slimy excuse for a teacher'll take a thousand points off Gryffindor if I let
my potion boil over again like last week."
Hermione looked up from the book she'd been obsessing over for the past
day and a half, Countering the Countercurse: Reversing Reversals. "How could
you mistake salamander eyes for sea grass, though, Harry? You should know by
now that adding animal elements to a potion based on poppy seed oil is going to
have repercussions! Don't you remember the principles we learned third year,
about animal, vegetable, and mineral, and how some ingredients just want to
stay true to class?"
"Ah, Miss Granger. Showing off again, like the arrogant Gryffindor you
are." A cool voice from above made them all look up. Snape, of course, his lips
twisted, his eyes burning like twin torches, only black. Just the sight of it made
Harry want to shudder. No, cancel that. It did make him shudder, because he
remembered that same look near the end of last year, when the Potions Master
had refused to go help Sirius, no matter that Harry was pleading.
Come to think of it, maybe he'd refused because Harry was pleading. In any
case, Sirius had died. Suddenly, instead of being worried that Snape might have
heard the "slimy excuse for a teacher" remark, Harry hoped he had.
"And Mr Weasley, with his mouth crammed full as usual, dropping crumbs
for the house-elves to magic away. Ten points from Gryffindor for sloppiness."
His eyes passed over the three of them, but Harry didn't look up. No point, not
when he'd just lose points for his house. The rage smouldering in his eyes would
be enough to set Snape off. Not that Snape had ever needed an excuse, let alone
a reason, to take points off Gryffindor.
Snape slid past them then, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"The nerve!" Hermione hissed as soon as Snape exited the tall doors at the
end of the hall. "He knows perfectly well that the house-elves don't have to
sweep this floor! But that's good, isn't it? I mean, they have enough to do.
Whoever spelled the floor to blink away debris about to hit it must have thought
so--"
"Hermione!" Ron groaned in exasperation. "Do you have room for anything
in your head except studies and house-elves? Harry's got a letter he's afraid to
open, or didn't you notice?"
She noticed then, plucking the envelope from his fingers and flipping it
over twice as she examined it. "Oh. Sorry, Harry."
Ron still didn't know which end was up. "What? What's the matter?"
"It's from the Dursleys," Harry groaned, though how his Muggle relatives
had got their hands on a magic owl was still a good question, in his view.
"The Dursleys," Ron slowly repeated. "They don't ever write you."
"So it can't be anything I want to hear," Harry concurred.
"Aw, they can't do much to you," Ron replied, stuffing another slice of
carrot cake between his teeth. "It's not like they can take you out of school, is it?
Dumbledore'd never stand for it. For one, you're safe here, and for another,
how're you going to fight You-Know-Who if you don't become a fully trained
wizard?"
"I suppose," Harry murmured, taking the letter back from Hermione. He
should probably open it, right? What could the Dursleys do, after all? They'd
been cowed the whole summer, just because Mad Eye Moody had given Uncle
Vernon some strict advice regarding Harry and mistreatment. In a lot of ways, it
had been his best summer yet. The Dursleys had ignored him completely, had
looked right through him and acted like he wasn't even in the house, but that was
better than chores from dawn until dusk and rants about his parents.
"Read your letter after Potions," Hermione suddenly agreed. "It's probably
nothing, Harry, but you don't want to risk it, not with Snape. He's really had it in
for you this year, worse than before."
"Yeah," Harry said again, thinking of the pensieve, of Snape's worst
memory. Even as angry as he was over Sirius, he was still sorry he'd pried like
that. Or maybe he was sorry not so much because he'd offended Snape, but
because he'd seen things he really didn't want to know. About his father. About
Sirius. "Time for Potions, then," he groaned, pushing to his feet.
"What about the letter?" Ron urged. "It can't be that bad. Why don't you
read it on the way?"
"Later," Harry refused. "Much later."
In fact, if he had his way, he just might never open that letter. Harry's
expression brightened at that, even if he was on his way to Potions. Yeah, that
was it, he'd just never open the letter. The Dursleys wouldn't have written him
anything he wanted to read, so that was that. Of course he might have some
explaining to do when summer rolled around, but that was months away, still.
Harry shoved the letter deep in his bag, determined to forget about it.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Two: Commotion in Potions
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 2: Commotion in Potions
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=2
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Two: Commotion in Potions
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Harry sighed and shoved his Transfiguration textbook away with both
hands. He could do the spells, sort of, so why did he have to learn so much
blasted theory? And what good had theory ever done him, anyway?
Well, his memory chimed in, if you'd have understood that twinned wands
cancel each other out, you'd have been better prepared to see your parents
flowing out of Voldemort's wand . . .
Harry groaned out loud and flopped his head down onto his arms.
"You read it, huh? Was it so bad, after all?"
Looking up, he saw Ron just stepping through the portrait hole. "Oh no, it's
not that." A scowl twisted his lips as he'd thought of how close he'd come to
reading the letter. He'd actually opened the stupid envelope before he'd
chickened out and shoved the whole thing back into his bag. Now why was it
that he could face down Voldemort, but he was afraid of one lousy, measly little
letter? Ron was right: the Dursleys couldn't really hurt him, not any more. He
wasn't small, and helpless, and friendless, now. But still, that letter in his bag
was unnerving him more than anything he thought he'd ever faced.
"It's just the extra reading McGonagall assigned," Harry went back to his
previous line of thought. "Honestly, we just need to learn to do the
transfigurations, don't you think, not be able to explain every last element of
each swish and flick . . ." Harry glanced to the side and barked a pre-emptive,
"Don't say it, Hermione!"
She closed her mouth, but her eyes said it for her.
"How about a game of Wizard Chess?" Ron suggested, plunking himself
down on the opposite side of the table from Harry. "That'll get your mind off
things."
That was just too much for Hermione. "He doesn't need to get his mind off
things, Ron!" she sharply rebuked. "He needs to get his mind on them. Or do you
think that Potions test is going to just go away? When have you ever known
Snape to threaten a test and not give one? Honestly!"
Potions test . . . that was right, Snape had promised one for Friday. Harry
had written it down in his notes . . . somewhere. He dug in his bag, upending
books and whatnot, and finally found his potions notes . . . yeah, Friday, that was
what they said. It had seemed a long ways off, back on Tuesday when he'd
written it down. Tuesday, the day he'd got that letter.
No, don't think about the letter, he scolded himself. You're going to forget it
ever came, right? In fact, if anybody asks about it, you're going to lie, no matter
what the sorting hat has to say about Gryffindor honesty and valour . . . And if
they point out that owl mail never goes astray, you'll say . . .
"You all right there, Harry?" Ron prompted, elbows on his knees as he
leaned close.
"I was just remembering that I'd forgotten all about the Potions test," Harry
sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And here it is Thursday night. Ugh. Maybe I
could skive off my morning classes and study. What do you think? Hagrid
wouldn't mind. Well, not much."
"You are not skipping classes in order to get study time!" Hermione
erupted. "You have to get better organized than this, Harry! Start with that bag of
yours. I've never seen a messier assortment of quills and texts and extra sheets of
parchment. Honestly, how can you even find anything in there?"
"Has anybody ever mentioned how irritating you can be?" Harry shot back.
Hermione only smiled. "That's why you love me."
