The Lie I've Lived
Flawed Assumptions

By JBern

Previous A House of Cards Flawed Assumptions The Summer of Change Of Innuendo and Ice Cream Closets and Secrets Plans are Subject to Change I Belong to Nowhere Censure and Sensibility Bartering the Truth Every Rose has a Thorn Appearances Can Be Revealing What's the Price of Your Fame? Caged Fear Sometimes, It's Good to be Me Code of the Marauders Dancing in the Whirlwind The Dykstra Shuffle A Prayer for Forgiveness Out of Africa The Geist and the Grotto Mind Your Manners Head Games Humiliation and Other Diversionary Tactics Cry Havoc Next

Sunday June 12th, 1994

Chapter 2 — Flawed Assumptions

So, yeah that’s me.   I’m the boy hero wandering around in a fog with all this crazy shit going through my head.   Today, I have been generally trying to avoid people. I briefly considered going back to the infirmary, which is something given my legendary hatred of that place! I mentioned to Hermione that I’d be spending the day with Ron and I told Ron that I’d stay with Hermione to help her prepare for the ‘library withdrawal’ that everyone knows is coming.

I wonder if this is what it was like to go insane. There are some magical curses so intense that prolonged exposure can make a person go off the deep end. Maybe that’s happening to me? I keep seeing flashes of things. Maybe, I’m a Seer and I’m seeing things that will be? Is that how I knew the answer to Brenda’s rune translation? Sure! Why the heck not? In the future, I must learn Old Celtic and that’s why I could answer that question?

Divination has always been, well to put it bluntly, a joke. I’ve never really put much into it, but who am I to question what gifts I am given? Hey, I can stop making up my homework!   It’ll probably be a bit more useful than, let’s say the whole talking to snakes thing. Though, it’s a good guess that if this gets out, the whispers and the pointing would start again. Ah, the good times, I should have known the first night I got here.   I love it when people point and whisper.   It’s the attention whore in me!

I can just see me now, setting up a table in the middle of Hogsmeade with my crystal ball waiting for people to come and toss me a couple of knuts to read the tea leaves or throw the bones for them. How much would that little wanker Malfoy enjoy seeing that? No, this won’t do at all! My first foray into predicting the future appears to be an unmitigated disaster.

I need some help, but who to ask? How about the crazy bitch herself? Yeah, that’s a conversation I’d want to have with dear old Sybil. Hell, the funny part is that she has a real gift, but she has no control over it whatsoever. Maybe I could go to Dumbledore? No, my head hurts enough without all his riddles and doubletalk. How about Professor M? Oh that would be rich, going to her to talk about the possibility of being a Seer. She’d be real supportive of that!   Might as well make it a double header and ask her to give you the talk about where little witches and wizards come from. I’d get a better opinion if I just go to Snivellus with my problems. At least when he takes points from me, I could say ‘I knew you were going to do that!’   Recalling Sirius mock him about his chemistry set brings a smile to my face.

After a bit more wandering, I realize that I’m starving and lunch just finished. Why not a quick stroll down to the kitchens for a bite to eat? Watching the chaos of dozens of house elves all going about their merry way, as I descend the steps, is pretty humorous. One elf sees me and immediately stops what he is doing. Oh shit! Not him! Anyone but him!

"Harry Potter is coming to see Dobby!"   Even the other elves look at him kind of sideways.   It’s kind of sad that I never really thought to ask what happened to him.   Then again, he did injure me to ‘help’ me.   I don’t think many people would fault me for not pursuing a close, personal friendship with a mentally unstable critter like him.

"Err, how are you Dobby?"

"Dobby is great.   Dobby is happy to be seeing the great and powerful Harry Potter!"   I smiled a bit wondering where he had been, when we had snuck down here for some food.   Shit!   When have I ever snuck down here and gotten food?   The answer is I hadn’t! For that matter, how did I know the way to get into the kitchens in the first place?   I’d heard Fred and George talking about it, but I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.

"I’ve never been down here before, have I?"

"Mr. Albus Dumbledore asks Dobby not to seek out Harry Potter, so Dobby hoped that Mr. Harry Potter come to see Dobby."

I guess I haven’t been here ‘yet’.   Maybe it’s my new ‘Seer’ thing happening again. "Why did Dumbledore not want you to come see me?"

"He tells Dobby that the Great Harry Potter might not want Dobby’s help right now."   I silently added, ‘and he would be right.’

"When did he tell you this?"   I’ve already started to see that the man always tries to keep people guessing.

"He tells Dobby this day after you freed Dobby from bad master.   Dobby had nowhere to go so the Great Mr. Albus Dumbledore gives Dobby a job."

"Did he ever remind you not to come near me?"  

"No, Headmaster too busy to speak to poor Dobby.   Every month 1 galleon appears on Dobby’s mattress so Dobby is getting paid!"   Okay, I can let my suspicions go, this time.   Dumbledore’s actions seem pretty reasonable.   Though the fact that I am suspicious of him makes me wonder how he will treat me in the future.   All this crap is making my head hurt.

"Why did you want to speak with me Dobby?"

"Dobby wants to become Harry Potter’s personal elf!"

"Personal elf as in bonded to me?"

"Yes!   Dobby can think of no greater way to repay the Great and Wonderful Mr. Harry Potter for freeing him."

Now that’s a bit of logic to try and wrap my mind around.   "So, let me get this straight?   You want to thank me for freeing you by enslaving yourself to me?"   I see his eyes start bulging and he looks like he wants to pee or something — not very good signs.   I began to fear that he’d start humping my leg like one of Aunt Marge’s dogs did when I was six.

So these are my options; first and foremost, Dobby is a lunatic.   I can assume that he’s a bit dodgy even by House Elf standards.   He could make a mess of things by just trying to help me?   Then again, when I’m at my Aunts, it might be worth the laugh.   I could always give him clothes and free him, if he got out of control.   Moony always says that I have a way of ‘working things to my advantage.’   Wait a damn second!   When did, or is it does, he say that?   Maybe this is where that saying starts.   Man, being a Seer is weird?   Okay, I better give the psycho an answer.

"Dobby, I don’t know if I’m ready for my own personal elf just yet.   Let’s try this.   How about I hire you for the summer?   You can work for me on a trial basis.   We could consider making it permanent at some point after we make certain that you like working for me?"   Those chores are getting rather bothersome.   Now that I’m getting older, Vernon will probably start trying to make me do all that rubbish that he’s been too cheap to hire a handyman for.   I picture myself with a plunger in my hands because Dudley’s massive bowel movements have clogged up the crapper, again.   Yeah, that sounds more up Dobby’s alley than mine.   They say good help is hard to find.   From my past experiences, I say that any help is hard to find.   There’s always some spell induced cave-in or some other idiotic reason that I end up alone and fighting for my life. Well, I had Hermione with me last time things got stupid, so maybe things are getting better?

At first, when he thinks I’m rejecting him, he looks crestfallen.   Then he hugs my leg as soon as I mention ‘consider making it permanent’.   I look at the other elves and they at me.   I’d almost swear their eyes are either saying ‘good luck’ to me or ‘good riddance’ to Dobby.   At least he isn’t humping, yet.  

"Dobby, I still live with my muggle relatives.   We have to establish some ground rules.   They can’t see you.   You can’t talk to them.   If they find out about you, they’ll make me send you away.   Can you still do your work and stay out of sight?"

"Oh yes!   Dobby can do that!   Dobby is good at hiding.   When Mr. Harry Potter’s relatives are around, they will not see Dobby."

"Good.   Good.   Now, my relatives don’t like me very much, they will say things about me that are not nice…."

"They must not say bad things about the Great Mr. Harry Potter!"

This may be harder than I originally thought.   "Dobby, you have to let them say things about me.   Otherwise they find out about you and I have to get rid of you.   Can you do that?"

He is unhappy, but nods slowly.   "Okay, consider yourself hired, when the summer starts.   Now could you get me something to eat?   I missed lunch."   Like a living missile the elf bolts into the kitchen and begins throwing something together.   I sit down at a smallish table and tried to focus on these new powers.   Do I have visions of me owning an elf?   I think I do.   I recall the elf being less frantic.   Perhaps the crazy bugger will mellow with time?   Makes me wonder if there are potions that can be given to him to make him a tad less psychotic?

Two minutes later no less than five sandwiches and three types of juice are in front of me.   Fanatical little zealot isn’t he?   I rub my forehead with my palm.

"Is Mr. Harry Potter’s head hurting?   Dobby could go get a pain potion?"   I nodded absently and he pops away as I start in on the roast beef and mustard sandwich.   It’s rather good.   I’m on my second sandwich, Ham and Swiss, as if anyone actually cared, when he gets back with the potion.   One chugged potion later and I can think a bit clearer.   I really need to get my head examined.   Madame Pomfrey is great for cuts, bumps, bruises and the occasional hexing, but I think that mental examinations were just a bit out of her league.   I know the perfect person, err thing — The Sorting Hat!

"Dobby, could you go and bring me the Sorting Hat from the Headmaster’s office?"   The elf looks hesitant.   Several others look on as well.   "Is something wrong?"

"House Elves not supposed to take anything from Headmaster’s office without Mr. Albus Dumbledore’s permission.   Why does the Great Harry Potter want to speak with nasty old piece of cloth?"   Dumbledore wasn’t at breakfast this morning.   He might be off the school grounds.   This couldn’t wait!   I need to know now!

"I just need to speak with it and then you can return it.   I’m not interested in stealing it.   I just need to ask it some questions."

Dobby accepts that and disappears.   He returns a minute later empty-handed.   "Nasty Hat says it doesn’t want to come.   Says to Dobby, ‘Ask the brat, why I should come?’   Dobby will take answer to nasty Hat."

Damn sight less helpful then the last time!   "Ask the Hat if it has anything else to do right now other than sit on a shelf for the next three months?"

Dobby disappears again and returns.   Again, he has no Hat.   This is getting old.   "Nasty evil Hat calls both Dobby and Mr. Harry Potter several names that Dobby does not wish to repeat in front of his Master.   Nasty Hat says Mr. Harry Potter should come to it, if he really wants to talk."

I start thinking up a clever reply; one involving what I could conceivably do to that old rag when a ball of fire appears right in front of me.   Fawkes is hovering just above me with the Hat in its beak.

"Take me back this instant!   You sodding, idiot bird!"   Instead, Fawkes drops the Hat onto  my plate making certain that it lands on a dollop of mustard that had fallen from the first sandwich.   The Hat is pretty irate now.   I’d swear that the phoenix winks at me as it disappears.   The Hat’s near endless stream of vulgarities makes me wonder, what eleven year old minds it pulled those words out of.

"Get this off of me this instant, you ignorant shit for brain!"   One of the rumors that Petunia spread throughout the neighborhood was that I had something called Tourette’s syndrome.   Once I found out what it was, I had half a mind to start doing it in public just to get back at her.

"Hey, I just want to talk.   No need to be an arse."   I say picking it up and wiping the mustard off.

"Why in the name of Salazar’s left nut do you think I would want to speak with you?"

"Maybe, because I asked…"   The throbbing in my temple is starting again.   This isn’t helping.

"How about I ask you to go take a leap of the bloody Astronomy Tower?"

"Hey!   I’ve got an idea.   How about I flip you over and pinch a loaf right where I pulled the sword out of?   Would that improve your shitty attitude?"

"Listen you fucking little twit!   I’ve got two jobs and that’s it!   Sing a fucking song and tell a bunch of snot nosed, bed wetting, miserable excuses for what didn’t run down their mother’s legs what house they would suck the least in!"

Words fail me for a moment.   Even Snape isn’t this much of a bloody wanker!   "Merlin’s balls, what is your damn problem?"

"You want to know what my problem is Potter!   Two hundred years since I’ve been out of this fucking castle!   Fifty more years before I get off of fucking probation."

"What did you do?"   Must have been impressive to get a quarter millennia of detention, it sounds like one for the books.

"Traumatized some little tit-sucker by revealing that the current Dark Lord of the time was the bastard’s illegitimate father.   The spineless shit offed himself that night!   You know the saying don’t blame the messenger.   It doesn’t mean a fucking thing!   When you came in pissing and moaning about being the heir of Slytherin, I threw you a bone hoping that Dumbledore would give me some time off for good behavior.   You know what that anal retentive, bed wetting past the age of nine, lemon drop sucking nancy boy said to me?   ‘Why Hat?   Good behavior is its own reward.’   Oh, I’ve got a song to sing when the reaper finally catches up with that worthless bag of ass spackle!"

Well, that’s definitely something new, "How about we make a deal.   You help me out and I put in a good word with the Headmaster?   Does that seem fair?"

"What makes you think you have any pull, other than when you’re wanking you little pecker and screaming Granger’s name?"

I let the cheap shot slide.   Now if he had said Cho Chang that would be another story.   "He seems pretty interested in my life as opposed to your average third year student.   I’ll talk to him.   He owes me.   I’m the boy hero.   Fuck, I don’t know.   I’ll find a damn way to get you out of this castle for a while!   Are you in or out?"

The wretched thing actually makes me wait a minute before answering, "I’m in Potter, but I warn you.   If you screw me over, I will skullfuck the living shit out of every piece of left over sperm your family ever sends to this school."

I’m a teenager.   By now, I’ve heard just about every bad word or expression, but there is something deeply wrong with that hat.   Maybe, I should just go to Poppy and let her fret over me like she really wants to?   Nah, I’ve come too far now.   "Fine, I need you to look into my head.   I’ve been seeing stuff lately.   I helped a girl out with Runes, when I’ve never even opened a book.   I gave Wood a fit playing Chaser against him.   I’ve never even come close before.   I think I’m a Seer and seeing the future.   I figure you’re the best one for looking around in someone’s head."

"Fine Potter, let’s get this over with."

"This doesn’t get out, not even to the Headmaster."

"Like I’d tell the toothless cocksucker!   I’d rather watch the dust cloud as he and McGonagall try and prove they can still do it."

"I did not need to hear that crap!"   Who needs that image running around in their mind?

"Doesn’t matter much to me what you think you stupid fuck!   Go ahead and put me on!   I haven’t done this in a long time, so it’s bound to hurt a bit."

I put the hat on my head, "You do it every year to about thirty kids."

The voice speaking in my head replies, "No.   When I am on someone’s head, I whisper to their subconscious.   I say words like courage and bravery and see what images the mind shows.   I move on to loyalty, hard work, wit, intelligence, ambition and cunning.   Whichever images strike me as the most provoking is how I make my decision.   What you are asking for is a deep examination of your thoughts.   It will hurt a bit, but you’re no stranger to pain are you?"

I agree and the Hat starts torturing me.   Want to know what I am feeling at this moment?   Grab a hunk of hair and yank.   That’s what I’m feeling right now.

"Interesting, very interesting, here boy follow me down into your mind."

I try to follow feeling like I have been drawn into the vortex.   "Your thoughts are scattered boy.   Try learning some fucking Occlumency at some point.   Eleven year olds are much easier to read.   See this fog.   It’s your memories.   Call a memory up and picture Dumbledore or anyone else.   See there is the image forming in the mist.   Now look over here."

I feel the tug, as I am pulled deeper into my memories.   The fog darkens into blackness with only tiny bits of light.   "This is different.   This area is something you’ve been repressing and hiding from yourself.   The edges are getting lighter meaning, whatever it is the barriers are falling.   Move to that area just at the edge and try and see the memory that’s there.   I don’t have all damn day, you little pussy!"

I’m scared.     I’m not afraid to admit it.   Who likes being told that there are things you’re hiding?   Was Vernon playing diddle the nephew?   Shit!   Was Dudders?   Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to remain a secret forever.   I stuck my hand into the mist and felt the memory.   I was flying during a game.   We’re playing Ravenclaw.   I toss a crossing pass to a seventh year and go low towards the deck.   I pulled hard on the Comet I was riding and go vertical right at the shooter’s arc.   The other chaser hit me with the Quaffle right where we practiced it and I take the shot.   It goes under the keeper’s broom and through ring two.

"Nice shot, Potter!"   The red headed chaser called out to me.

"Bloody good pass, Frank, let’s pile on the points and hope that Collingsworth can catch the snitch!   We need to win this one by at least eighty!"  

"Don’t worry about my Alice.   She’ll get it!"

I hear myself reply as the memory fades away.

"I’m not a Chaser and who the bloody hell is Frank!"

"I recognize him.   He was in Dumbledore’s office enough.   He’s Frank Longbottom.   His son is in your year.  That memory wasn’t yours boy.   That belonged to your father."

"How are my father’s memories in my head?"   I scream.

"Maybe the question you should be asking is, ‘How are my memories in my son’s body?’   There’s a lot more darkness than there is light in this part of your memories.   Seems to me that Lily left her protection on her son’s body and Voldemort transferred his ability to speak to serpents.   Is it possible that James Potter left something as well?   Hell boy, Harry Potter might have died that night and you’ve been living as him ever since, eh James?   Snape’s always at Dumbledore’s desk bitching that you’re just like you damn father.   Maybe the greasy buttpumper is spot on!"   The Hat laughs at me in a mocking tone.

I don’t respond very well to that at all.   I rip the hat off my head and scream my bloody lungs out.   House elves scatter to the four winds.   It’s not possible.   I’m not my father!   I’m Harry!   The map, the map never lies!   I pull it out from my robes and spread it out.   It takes only a moment to activate it and find myself in the kitchen.  

I watch the words on the page - Harry Potter.   They morph into James Potter right before my eyes.   No!   It turns back to Harry Potter and starts going back and forth between the two.   No!   No!   No!   After a minute, it stops leaving Harry James Potter there.   The map doesn’t display middle names.   We didn’t make it that way.   Damn it to hell!   The Marauders didn’t make it that way!

I’m guessing I fainted.   Mainly because, I’m on the ground and from the looks of things Dobby just dumped a pitcher of juice on my face.   I’m sputtering liquid out of my mouth and nose gasping for breath, while the Hat is just there laughing at the whole thing.   I should reconsider this whole thing with Dobby, seriously the creature just tried to drown me!   I struggle to my feet.

"Going to scream and faint like a little girl again, douchebag?"   I should have Dobby kill the hat.   Yeah that’s a good idea!

I make sure to cough really hard and send a nice juicy phlegm projectile right at it.   Still gagging, I manage, "No.   I’m good."

"Good.   The next thing the elf will probably grab is hot soup.   As much as I’d like to see that, we have a deal Potter.   Should I call you Harry or James?"

"Harry, you fucking scrap of cloth!   I’m Harry Potter."

The hat harrumphed.   "That seems to be the question of the day.   Glad you are so certain."

With a quick spell my face and clothes are cleaned of all the juice on them.   I wipe my lung butter off the hat.   "Since you’re such an expert, where do you think I should go from here?"

"I’m a hat not a wretched healer.   You could obliviate yourself.   That worked real well for that charlatan Lockhart, or you could deal with it.   All those memories are going to come back to the surface, whether you want them to or not.   Now that you’re conscious of what’s going on, it’ll probably start happening faster."

I don’t have a smart answer for that.   "You’re right.   I can probably brew some memory potions to speed the process up.   That Occulmency thing you mentioned.   It sounds familiar.   I can probably use that too."

"Good.   There’s some hope for you yet boy.   Don’t whine about the shit you can’t change, instead focus on doing something constructive.   Now, send me back to my prison and come up with a good lie to get me out and about."

I nod to Dobby and he disappears with the Hat.   I am so stunned that I almost left the Map down in the kitchen.   I wander towards the library.   There are some medical texts there.   I’ll look up the magical treatment for amnesia.   That’s a start.

------

I enlist Hermione’s help by telling her that I am curious about how they might have tried to treat Lockhart.   It turns out that Occlumency would actually hinder rather than help me.   The recommended treatment is a Draught of Openness to remove protective barriers in the mind, followed by the Elixir of Recollection to assist in recovering the missing memories and finished with a Draught of Peace to help the patient relax and not panic.   None of the recipes look that difficult.   The Draught of Peace is so common that I can probably send Dobby to one of the Apothecaries in Diagon Alley to buy in bulk.   They won’t sell memory potions to students because of the stupid notion that we honorable students wouldn’t use them to cheat our little magical arses off.   Like I haven’t seen a seventh year coming back from Hogsmeade with a vial or two!   I’ll have to brew that one or hire someone to brew it for me.   Same goes for the first one.   Dobby will have to go get the reagents from different stores as it would probably raise all kinds of alarms, if he bought it all at the same story.   I could probably raid Snape’s storeroom, but what the hell for?   I’ve got the money!   That’s one less thing that could go wrong.

I swing back by the kitchens and give Dobby his shopping list.   I tell him to take my vault key and explain that he needs to buy only a couple of ingredients in each location.   I had to tell him three separate times not to buy it all in one place.   I can brew all this at #4, but I’ll offer to paint the garage this year.   It should keep them out for the week that I will need to brew all this rubbish!   I’ve got the start to a plan.   Now I just need to convince Dumbledore to let me bring the Hat along.

------

"Well, hello Harry what can I do for you?"   The old man says to me.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could ask a favor?"

"You can always ask.   If it is in my power to grant, I will be happy to assist."

His doublespeak really annoys me, now.   Back before all this, he seemed so knowledgeable and worldly.   Now, he’s just irritating.   "I wanted to study magical history and objects.   Would it be possible for me to borrow the Sorting Hat?   I want to study it this summer and perhaps write a paper for Professor Binns."   It sounds like the kind of stunt Hermione would do, but maybe he’ll buy it?   I shuffle my feet a little and do the ‘aw shucks’ routine.

He looks skeptical.   "I don’t know if the Hat would be a suitable subject for study, Harry.   Perhaps you could select something else?   I have many items.   Minerva is always telling me that I have too many items."

"Well, I’m already familiar with the Hat, sir.   I thought it remarkable that the sword of Gryffindor could be contained within a magically enlarged space.   Plus since it talks, I was hoping for some company this summer."

"Yes, I see.   However, the Hat is not a very social object.   It has a rather angry personality."

"I heard that you decaying worm."

I looked at the Hat, who was clearly not helping!   "Well let’s ask it.   Hat, I was hoping to do a bit of research on you this summer.   Will it interfere with next year’s song if you were to come with me?"

"Not in the least, boy."

"No, Harry I’m afraid I can not allow this.   Our Hat is still under a penalty for a past transgression."

Adding a slight whine to my voice, similar to the one Ron uses when he wants chocolate I kept going, "But Headmaster, the Hat sorts so many of us that are raised in the Muggle World, it’s out of touch with us.   It should see what the world outside of the Magical World is like.   Otherwise, how will it understand enough to know how to properly place future students?"

I rehearsed that little speech all afternoon.   It is the best argument that I could come up with.   I think it is working.

"The Hat has behavior issues."

"I can behave just fine, Dumbledore.   I choose not to.   The boy has something you never will."

"And what, pray do tell, is that?"

"I respect the boy.   I watched him fight Salazar’s pet.   He’s a hero not a lemon drop sucking fossil cashing in on his past glory."

I have to admit the Hat is a harsh bastard.   Dumbledore is giving it his best stern look.   "I see.   Harry, the Dursleys have not proven very receptive of magic and magical items."

"Oh I solved that, sir.   I hired Dobby.  I’ll loan him to the school, when we’re back in session."

"Dobby, oh yes, he is the free elf down in the kitchens. As I recall, he wants to pledge himself to you.   I’ve heard he’s a bit excitable."

"Ah, yes he is.   We’ve already addressed how he needs to stay out of sight and for the moment; I am only hiring him on a trial basis."

"How would you go about examining the Hat?"

"I would like to check out few books on enchanting objects from the library — The Theory Behind Enchanting and The Art of Creation."

"That still doesn’t explain how you will cast the necessary diagnostic charms without incurring Madame Hopkirk’s wrath."

I did the guilty look.   "Well, uh, it’s sort of like this.   Dobby says he can prevent weak spells from being detected, just like he made it look like I did the spell to get me in trouble.   I tried out a couple of the basic detection spells and he said he could mask them."

Dumbledore gives me a scolding look and then that little twinkle pops up in his eyes.   "I certainly cannot condone such mischief, officially.   You do realize, Harry that there are limits to what a House Elf can do?   You will need to be careful and restrict your activities."

I bob my head up and down mimicking Dobby, "Of course, sir!   Dobby is going to pick up some ward stones with a silencing charm on them so my relatives won’t hear me and the Hat talking."

"Yes, those all sound like prudent precautions.   It warms my heart to see you taking such an interest in the art of Enchanting.   You might even want to mention it to Professor Flitwick.   He is quite passionate about the field.   Have your elf fetch the Hat after the leaving feast."

I walk out of his office smiling and pat the Gargoyle on the side as I pass it.   ‘Mission Accomplished!’

-----

A few days later, I’m on the train heading back to purgatory.   Ron’s going on about no homework for the summer.   Hermione raises her eyes from her book to remind him of the summer assignments.   She’ll probably have them done by the weekend.   I neglect to mention my ‘summer companions’ to my friends, both Dobby and the Hat should be waiting at #4, when I get there.   One wouldn’t understand and the other probably wouldn’t either, but she’d demand an explanation.   She wouldn’t be alone.   I’m still waiting for one as well.

"Feeling okay, Harry?"

"I suppose, Hermione.   I haven’t seen the Dursleys since I turned my whale of an Aunt into the bag of hot air she really is.   I’m just wondering what this summer is going to be like."   It’s a bit of a lie, well maybe it’s more of a stretch of the truth, but the ‘truth’ would get everyone involved in my business.   Whoever I am, I’m a private person.   That much is certain.   This summer I have to figure out who or what the fuck I really am.   I’ve got a Hat, an Owl, and an Elf.   It’s not much and the Elf is going to try so hard to prove himself to me, that he’ll likely injure me at some point.   Maybe I’m Harry.   Maybe I’m James.   Maybe it doesn’t even matter.  

Let the fun commence…

Previous A House of Cards Flawed Assumptions The Summer of Change Of Innuendo and Ice Cream Closets and Secrets Plans are Subject to Change I Belong to Nowhere Censure and Sensibility Bartering the Truth Every Rose has a Thorn Appearances Can Be Revealing What's the Price of Your Fame? Caged Fear Sometimes, It's Good to be Me Code of the Marauders Dancing in the Whirlwind The Dykstra Shuffle A Prayer for Forgiveness Out of Africa The Geist and the Grotto Mind Your Manners Head Games Humiliation and Other Diversionary Tactics Cry Havoc Next