HP 6 - A different Half-Blood...

***TRIGGER WARNING FOR PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE***

The Phone Call

The next two weeks went at a slug-like pace. Harry was getting daily requests from Ron, Hermione, or Mrs. Weasley to come and stay with them the rest of the summer. Each time he turned them down with some bogus reason. He still woke up at his traditional time in the middle of the night and he would not go back to sleep. He was exhausted, but the dreams would not stop. He had not taken out the Sirius's medal or his mother's box since the day he got them. It seemed too painful to even think about. He had stopped eating. Aunt Petunia knew this, but brought the food up anyway and took the uneaten food back with her. He had lost a lot of weight. Dudley's clothes looked even bigger on him.

Uncle Vernon was not at all perturbed by his lack of nutrition. In fact, he seemed more upset that Aunt Petunia kept bringing food that he did not eat.

"You are just wasting it! I'm not paying for food that he isn't going to eat!" was Uncle Vernon's traditional argument at dinnertime. Aunt Petunia finally bent and only sent up breakfast and lunch, mostly because Uncle Vernon was not home.

He stopped answering the door when anyone would knock and he only sent letters because he did not want anyone to show up thinking something was wrong. The pain in his stomach grew. The food pushed under the door was tempting, but one glance at his Hogwarts chest would shatter that temptation. The pain was distracting. It was that or thoughts of his parents and Sirius. He chose physical pain over mental anguish.

He was worn out and starved. Most of the time, he slept only because he passed out from a lack of energy. He drank water, which he had to force down. Aunt Petunia was getting worried, but Harry ignored her knocks and pushed his chest of drawers in front of the handle a little when he was in his room. However, pure exhaustion stopped him from pushing completely in front of the door.

Letters back and forth were empty of meaning. All Ron and Hermione did was ask him to come over now, with the brief exception of asking him how his exams went. He only said ok. Hermione would probably faint if she heard how well he did. She got the Medal of Magical Merit, too. Ron wrote that he did ok, but he was not very forthcoming and did not push Harry for more information either. Harry was worried that Ron did poorly, because they would not be in the same classes.

However, their O.W.L.'s provided a topic of conversation for only a day of two, but the topic of Sirius finally came up after ignoring it for a while and they went back to their traditional letters.

The day after his birthday, Percy sent him a Daily Prophet with a note that said, "Thought you'd want to see it". It had an article on Sirius.

SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT

DECLARES MINISTRY

The Minister of Magic made a short announcement last night, that Wizengamot reinvestigated Sirius Black's alleged involvement in the massacre that shook the Magical and Muggle communities alike 15 years ago. "It was a unanimous decision by Wizengamot that he'd be cleared of all crimes. Evidence was collected from a variety of sources to prove Black had no connection to You-Know-Who," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Also we will be informing the entire wizarding community that one of Black's alleged victims, Peter Pettigrew, is alive and is actually the one responsible for the massacre. Pettigrew was seen alive by many people, including Harry Potter." This announcement shocked many people, for Black was long considered He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's greatest supporter and as the infamous criminal, who was the first to escape from Azkaban.

Black, however, was killed a month and a half ago by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry itself, during the break-in when You-Know-Who was sighted. Black came to the Ministry to help save Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and was killed in a duel. The Minister added in a final comment, "Black's sacrifice and his long imprisonment are noteworthy of his character and we are honored to have awarded him the Order of Merlin, First Class." The award was presented to Harry Potter, yesterday. Sirius Black was Harry Potter's godfather.

It did cheer him up a little. At least, everyone knew Sirius was not a murderer, but he remembered what his godfather had said, "I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology". Maybe, Sirius wouldn't forgive them, he thought. It was another question that plagued him.

Ten days to go. He looked over at his calendar. He had not touched it since before his birthday. He realized it was longest he had been at the Dursleys' since he started his first year. Hedwig flew into his room. She had a letter from Hermione. She looked concerned for him for she knew he was not eating.

"I suppose it's a good thing you can't talk," he said aloud.

He put the letter on the desk, because he did not need to open it now. Hedwig needed rest, anyway. He lay back down on his bed. His stomach was aching. The cat flap opened and Petunia took a plate of cold eggs and bacon, and pushed in a bowl of soup. He knew he needed to start eating something. Therefore, he took a few bites, but each one made him feel sick and he did not take anymore. After an hour dragged by without incident, he got up and opened Hermione's letter, which looked like all the other letter's they had sent him.

Harry,

You need to talk to someone Harry! We know you're telling us all the same thing. Harry, please come over to Ron's. No one blames you for anything. We want to see you! Write back soon.

Hermione

It looked like the standard plea. He was thinking of all the ways he had said "no" so far and was trying to figure out which was best, when the telephone rang downstairs. It did not faze him. His aunt and uncle did not even let him answer the phone, for anyone, but this time...

"HARRY!" his aunt's voice rang out through the house.

He immediately strained his ears to listen.

"Harry! Phone!" she shouted, but he did not answer. Then he heard her say, "I don't think he'll come down. What's your name? Ok, I'll tell him. Harry! It's Hermione!" she yelled. "He isn't coming down. He barely ever comes out...."

With that, Harry moved the dresser out of the way and opened the door quickly. He did not want Aunt Petunia to tell her anything else.

"Oh, here he is... amazingly," said Aunt Petunia, as she handed him the phone and walked away.

"Hello?" said Harry, clearly dreading this conversation.

"Hi, Harry, glad you came down. I see you're talking to your family as much as you are talking to us," Hermione said, bluntly through the receiver.

"Yeah. What do you want?" he asked slightly worried, though he felt a little better once he heard her voice. However that feeling went away quickly, too.

"I want to know why you aren't coming over to Ron's," she said, breathlessly.

"I just got your letter. How do you know I wasn't coming?" Harry asked.

"Harry, I'm not stupid. You have been sending the same response to all of us all summer, except to Ginny, who won't tell us what you wrote," she said irritably.

"Good for her. You and Ron should mind your own business," he said, shortly, getting defensive.

"Harry, we aren't trying to be nosy, we're trying to help. Why are you avoiding us?" she asked.

"Maybe because you all kept bugging me every damn day to come over so you all can do it in person. If I wanted to talk to you guys I would," he said, abruptly.

"We aren't going to badger you, Harry!" she said, irritated. "We want to see you, talk about other things. Play Quidditch, even. We'll be at the Burrow. All together as friends... with good food...."

She was trying to buy him into coming. With the mention of Quidditch, a sport she does not even like to play, she had seriously tempted him. He did not say anything. She knew that she was close to hooking him in.

"Harry, we promise, you don't have to talk about anything, and you know Ron has that padlock in the trees. Fred and George might be around. You guys will have plenty of people to play Quidditch," she said, in a tempting voice.

"Hermione..." he said in a very drained voice.

He slid down the wall on his back, too tired to stand. His stomach was aching. What would they think if they saw me like this? He supposed he could just blame it on the Dursleys. It is not as though they have withheld food from him before.

"I don't really want to..." he started.

"Why not?" she demanded, dropping her soft voice altogether.

"I'm busy," he said, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"Busy? Doing what?" she asked sternly.

"I don't know... things... reading," he said, remembering the book she had gotten him.

"You're lying, Harry," she said, clearly not believing him.

"Really?" he said, trying anything to avoid a confrontation.

"Let's see, last year, you blew up about keeping you at the Dursleys' for so long and for us not telling you anything. Now, you don't want to know anything and you want to stay at the Dursleys'. That's something that has never happened before, ever..." she said, determinedly.

"Well things change," he said.

"I see," she said, shortly.

"Yeah," he retorted.

"Harry, no one blames you for Sirius dying..." she started.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, furiously.

"Talk about what? We haven't been talking. I have. That's why Ron and I are worried about you. We care about you..." she said, trying to reach him.

"I can take care of myself," he said, as his stomach lurched. Luckily, Hermione could not hear it.

"Oh, really? Not talking to people isn't healthy. Ignoring your friends isn't healthy. Staying in your room all day isn't healthy," she said, right as usual.

"Yeah, but it's how I'm dealing. Listen, I'm not leaving, so stop asking me. I'm fine here, and I will see you on the train. Don't call again... you're going to get me in trouble," he said.

"Your aunt didn't seem to mind," she said, almost surprised by that fact.

"That's what you... think..." he stopped, as the front door opened, and Uncle Vernon came in and stared at him. Uncle Vernon's face was turning red.

He heard Hermione's voice in the telephone receiver, "Harry... Harry!"

"I got to go. Bye, Hermione," Harry said, lazily.

"Harry..." she started.

"Good-bye!" he said, bluntly, looking at Uncle Vernon's angry eyes.

"Fine, bye," she said.

"Bye," he said and practically hung up on her. He slowly got up and was ready for the impending fight.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING ON THE PHONE!?!" Uncle Vernon finally spitted out.

"Talking?" Harry said, rudely.

"Don't take that tone with me!" he growled.

"Or what?" Harry said, turning and starting up the stairs.

He could feel Uncle Vernon's temperature radiate off him, but he slipped into his room before his uncle managed to yell out to him. He closed the door and managed to push the chest of drawers in front of the door, and then collapsed on his bed. He waited for either Uncle Vernon or Hermione to intrude upon him. Hermione did not call again or ask him to come over again in the next few days, and Ron did not either.

Aunt Petunia kept bringing up food, mostly soup probably so he would not get sick if he actually did eat. Aunt Petunia pleaded through the door for him to eat, but she could not get in and he did not answer.

* * * * *

It was about a week before school started when a barn owl from Hogwarts flew in during the morning and deposited a letter in front of him on the bed. He picked it up and opened it. It contained the usual message:

Dear Mr. Potter,

Please note that the new school year will start on September the first. The Hogwarts express will leave from King's Cross, platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock.

A list of new schoolbooks is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

He flipped to the next page and read:

Sixth year course books

The Standard Book of Advanced Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk

Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Exploring the Dark Arts by Damon Darko

Anti-Muggle Security by Elliot Kaplan

Also fourth years and above students may bring dress robes

He looked over the list. He guessed Dumbledore managed to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher seeing is that not one of the five teachers he has had lasted a year, a whole year at that. People did not want to take the job, because they think it is cursed, which is one of the reasons why the book list came so late this year. Last year, it did not come until to the last day of vacation.

Dress robes? He wondered why he would need them. In his fourth year, they had to bring dress robes because of the Triwizard Tournament and the Yule Ball, but he was sure it was going to be held, again, especially after what happened at the last one (not to mention it is only held every five years). He remembered the photograph Aunt Petunia gave him. His parents were at a ball. He supposed that the school has a ball occasionally for older students. He shrugged and leaned back on his pillows. He had not really looked at any of the photos since he got them. He was busy... brooding.

Aunt Petunia pushed his lunch through the flap, carefully.

"Harry! You eat that now! You hear me!" she said and rattled on the door, but after a few minutes, surrendered and went back downstairs.

Harry did not move. He had not slept in about twelve hours. He was very tired, and before he could do anything else, he slipped down his pillows and fell asleep. Harry woke up a few hours later, when Pig had made his presence known by flying straight into his head.

"Ouch," he grunted and started massaging the spot where Pig had collided with it. Pig continued to hoot excitedly around the room. Harry grabbed him and got the letter. Then Pig raced over to get a drink, completely annoying Hedwig in the process. He opened the letter.

Harry, we got our letters from school. How are you going to get to Diagon alley? You want to come over for the rest of the summer and get our school stuff. Come on, Harry. We've got to practice for Quidditch, remember? Umbridge is gone so you can play again. Anyway, you don't have any way to get there with the Dursleys, right? Send Pig back and we'll come and get you right away.

Ron

He wrote back immediately, and said that he would get a ride with the Dursleys and for him not to come and get him. He knew his aunt and uncle would not want or allow them to come, after the last time the Weasleys came. It would also be hard for Harry to get them to take him to London, too, but he would find a way.

He tied the letter to the overly excited minute owl that zipped through the window heading back to Ron's. It was the first time in the past few days that Ron had invited Harry over, but it did not change his mind about going. He heard the front door close. Uncle Vernon was home. Harry decided he would wait until after they ate dinner before he would ask.

An hour later, the clatter of plates and silverware had died out and he figured they were done. He edged the dresser out of way and walked slowly downstairs. He was sure Uncle Vernon did not want to see him, much less hear what he had to say. He had been very agitated since the phone call. Dudley came walking out of the kitchen and his mouth dropped. He never saw Harry anymore. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were in the lounge watching the news.

They did not notice him when he walked into the room, so he announced his presence, "Uncle Vernon?"

"Harry! Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?" Aunt Petunia shrieked.

"Err... no thanks, I'm fine," Harry said tiredly.

Uncle Vernon smirked happily with that last remark, and by now, Harry's anger was overcoming the empty feeling in his stomach.

"Uncle Vernon?" he said more firmly, but Uncle Vernon did not respond. Harry went on as though he did, "I need a ride to London next Monday."

The train actually did not leave until Tuesday, but he had figured there was not enough time to get his school things the day the train left, and decided to stay at the Leaky Cauldron overnight.

"Can you take me?" he pressed.

Uncle Vernon grinned wildly, but was still turning a little red.

"No, find your own way there," he said quite plainly.

"I don't have another way there," Harry said, snorting slightly.

"Better start walking then, cause I'm not taking you," Uncle Vernon said with his voice getting louder.

"Why not?" Harry said defiantly. His temper was rising, too.

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to drive all over England! And that's the end of it!" Uncle Vernon half-shouted.

"No, it ain't the end of it! I still need a ride! Or maybe I should just stay here!" Harry said, angrily.

Threatening Uncle Vernon was usually his only way to get things, but Uncle Vernon had another idea. He was not going to take it anymore.

"So! See if I care if you stay! It doesn't bug me!" Uncle Vernon said, nonchalantly. Although Uncle Vernon did not like Harry here, he felt no reason to give him something he wanted.

"Well," Harry paused, thinking of something else to threaten him with. He was not going to be subtle about it anymore, "I guess Ron and his dad could come again! You know, through the fireplace!" he half-shouted.

Two years ago, Mr. Weasley destroyed half the lounge when he blasted the boarded up fireplace apart, when he and his sons came to get Harry. This was something Uncle Vernon would not forget. Uncle Vernon got up slowly and crossed his arms.

"Are you threatening me?" he practically yelled with his face turning redder by the second. "You know I'm not stupid! If those... friends... of yours are watching us, why aren't they showing up to make you eat? HUH! They aren't here, so... I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT!!! THIS IS MY HOUSE!!! I DECIDE WHAT GOES!" he shouted, spraying Harry with spit.

His face was brick red. He was clutching his fists and he was saying half the words through his teeth. He was angrier than Harry had ever seen. It seemed like all the incidents of the last six years were adding up to this moment.

Harry, however, would not back down, "Oh really? Just like you decided I wasn't going to Hogwarts my first year? Or the bars on my window? Yep, I didn't go back, no! Not at all! And don't forget Aunt Marge!"

"BOY!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN SAY WHATEVER YOU WANT AND GET AWAY WITH IT!!! KEEP IT UP BOY, AND YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT!!! YOU'VE BEEN DESERVING IT FOR YEARS!!!" Uncle Vernon spat at Harry who was only inches away from him.

His finger was jabbing into Harry's chest. The veins in his head were throbbing, his teeth were grinding and his face was teeming with rage.

"Go ahead, I dare you," Harry said, slowly, with one hand in his pocket ready to draw out his wand. He was just angry as Uncle Vernon, who had started raising his fist.

"Harry! Vernon! Stop it, now!" Aunt Petunia walked right between them. "That's enough! Vernon, you don't want to be cursed and Harry, you'll be expelled. Neither of you want that, right?" she paused before turning to her husband. "Vernon, will you please take him to London?"

Uncle Vernon lowered his fist. He stared at her, angry that she kept siding with Harry, since the dementors.

"Vernon, once he goes to school, all our problems are solved," she said sweetly in an attempt to calm him down.

"I can't! Remember! I'm going to see Marge, since she can't come here! I'm leaving on Saturday and coming back Wednesday to take Dudley to school. So, I can't!" he gritted through his teeth.

"Well, since Dudley and I aren't going, I'll need the car. I'll drop you off at the train station and pick you up. I'll take Harry to London, alright! Problem solved. So, everyone calm down!" she said, clearly exasperated.

She went back to her seat, muttering under her breath, and clearly thinking that would be enough, but it was not. Uncle Vernon was out for blood. He was looking at Harry intently. He wanted to hurt Harry, but Aunt Petunia restrained him, yet again.

He was frustrated and growled at Harry, who had started to leave, "You're lucky your aunt is here. One of these times, she's not going to be able to hold me back!"

"Yeah, right. Like that will ever happen," he sneered, as he walked out into the hallway, knowing he should have let it go, because he did not notice Uncle Vernon following him. Dudley backed away from Harry as he entered the hallway.

"Yeah, just you wait till next year. I can do magic without worrying about being expelled!" he scoffed.

He was at the bottom of the stairs and before he knew it, Uncle Vernon was on him. Harry pulled out his wand, but Uncle Vernon was one step ahead of him. He knocked it over by the front door by slamming Harry's arm hard into the wall. He felt sharp pain across his arm, but before he could recover or defend himself, Uncle Vernon's fist collided into his left eye. Harry fell to the ground with the force of the hit, but Uncle Vernon's left hand pulled him back up, as his right fist planted itself a couple more times into Harry's stomach. Harry put his arms up to shield the blows, but Uncle Vernon placed a few punches past them. He could not hold his uncle off, not with his hands or magic. He was too weak.

Aunt Petunia was screaming for his uncle to stop, but he ignored her. He was more interested in hitting every part of Harry he could find, while yelling and swearing at him.

Harry fell to the floor on his hands and knees, and Uncle Vernon placed a kick to his stomach. Harry let out a gasp of pain and he fell on to his left side with his back to the wall. His arms were still covering his face and he brought his legs closer in to protect his stomach. There some rustling and yelling, but he could not understand what was said, and then Uncle Vernon placed one last kick into his right knee. He grabbed it in pain, but kept his eyes closed.

Then he made out, "Dad, NO! Stop!"

"GET OFF ME, DUDLEY!" Uncle Vernon roared.

"Vernon! Please stop!" Aunt Petunia said.

Harry opened his unhurt right eye. Dudley, it seemed, had pulled his father off him and was still restraining him. Dudley, who had been bigger than his father was and had boxing training, was strong enough to hold him back.

Aunt Petunia had gotten in front of Uncle Vernon, and he slowly stopped fighting. Dudley relaxed his hold on his purple faced father, but he was watching to make sure he did not try to hit Harry anymore.

Uncle Vernon was taking in deep breaths. His eyes were wide open and fixed on Harry. Harry had his hands around his knee, which seemed to hurt the most. He could not see out of his left eye and his nose was bleeding He looked up at Uncle Vernon, who was hovering over him, and was worried that he would continue, but he did not.

"You deserved it, boy. You deserved it," Uncle Vernon said in a trembling voice, almost as if he was trying to convince himself he was right, and glancing to his wife and son who had pulled him off.

He turned, and as he was walking into the kitchen, he gave one last look. Then he slammed the door shut.