0386 Not so Happy Summer Holidays

Words : 1697 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

0386 Not so Happy Summer Holidays As the sun began its descent on a balmy summer evening, its final golden rays stretched lazily across the rolling hills and shimmering seas, casting a warm, glow upon the white walls of Number Four, Privet Drive. Through a partially drawn curtain on the second floor, the fading light filtered into a dimly lit room, bathing it in a soft, rosy hue. Outside, the residents of Privet Drive were taking full advantage of the pleasant weather before dinner. Neatly pressed trousers and floral sundresses swished as neighbors busied themselves in their tidily manicured yards. The rhythmic hum of electric lawnmowers mingled with the snip of trimming shears as homeowners trimmed their lawns to perfection and lovingly tended to their vibrant flower beds. Children's laughter rang out like silver bells in the tranquil air as they chased each other along the spacious, tree-lined street. A group of youngsters had spotted a stray tabby cat and were in hot pursuit. Watchful parents kept a protective eye on their children from nearby porches, sipping iced tea and exchanging pleasantries with passing neighbors. In stark contrast to the lively scene outside, Harry stood motionless at his bedroom window, peering expressionlessly through a small gap in the heavy curtains. His emerald eyes, usually so full of life, seemed dull and distant as he observed the carefree children playing under their parents' loving gazes. After what felt like an eternity, he let out a deep, weary sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. With the weight of the something unknown on his young shoulders, he turned away from the window and fell back onto his unmade bed, pulling the slightly musty covers over his head to shut out the world.RêAd lateSt chapters at novelhall.com Only The room, bathed in that soft pink glow of twilight, was in a state of disarray that would have horrified Harry's fussy Aunt Petunia. It was filled with an varied collection of items that would seem wildly out of place in any ordinary Muggle child's bedroom. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, leather-bound books, and a hint of something distinctly magical – a combination of herbs, potions, and the lingering aroma of owl treats. At the foot of Harry's bed sat an enormous, battered wooden trunk. Its lid gaped open like the maw of some fantastic beast, revealing a chaotic jumble of objects that would bewilder any non-magical person who happened to peek inside. Gleaming brass cauldrons of various sizes nestled alongside sleek, polished broomsticks that seemed to hum with barely contained energy. Neatly folded black robes, adorned with the proud Gryffindor crest, lay atop a pile of leather-bound spell books with titles like "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3" and "The Monster Book of Monsters" (which was mercifully belted shut). On the rickety desk by the window stood an empty birdcage, its door swinging slightly in the breeze from the partially open window. This was where Harry's beloved snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched when she wasn't out hunting or delivering messages. The remaining desk space was cluttered with several rolls of yellowed parchment, quills with nibs stained with ink, and half-finished letters to friends. Crumpled balls of discarded parchment littered the floor around the desk, evidence of Harry's frustrated attempts at communication. An open book lay face-down on the worn carpet beside the bed – the one Harry had been engrossed in before finally succumbing to sleep the previous night. Its enchanted pages were alive with constantly moving illustrations: tiny figures clad in vibrant orange robes zoomed back and forth on miniature broomsticks, passing a small red ball between them with incredible speed and precision. Indeed, Number Four, Privet Drive housed a young wizard – a fact that would undoubtedly shock the well-to-do residents of this perfectly ordinary suburban street if they ever discovered it. The Dursleys, owners of the house and Harry's reluctant guardians, would surely be mortified beyond belief if their neighbors ever learned they were harboring such a 'freak' under their roof. One could easily imagine them packing up their belongings in the dead of night and fleeing in shame. But Harry, lying motionless under his covers, couldn't have cared less about such trivial matters. It wasn't as if he had wanted to return to this place that had never truly been a home to him. Nearly a month had passed since Harry had been forced to return to the Dursleys for the summer holidays once again. Truthfully, these were usually his most miserable days of the year. This time, however, he wasn't entirely sure if things had improved or worsened. In previous years, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never have allowed him to keep his "magical nonsense" in his room during the summer. The very sight of anything related to the wizarding world would send them into a frenzy of fear and disgust. As soon as he crossed the threshold of Number Four, Privet Drive, they would confiscate everything connected to Hogwarts and lock it away in the cupboard under the stairs – his former bedroom. They would only grudgingly return his belongings when it was time for him to go back to school, as if allowing him to touch them for even a moment longer than necessary might somehow contaminate their perfectly normal household. His current treatment was the result of intervention from Professor Watson and, more significantly, his godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius, in particular, had managed to effect a considerable change in the Dursleys' attitude after having what Harry imagined must have been a rather intense conversation with them before the summer began. The memory of that encounter still brought a small smile to Harry's face, despite his current melancholy. They certainly didn't mistreat him anymore, at least not in any tangible, material way. This was highly unusual and deeply concerning. Hedwig was an exceptionally intelligent owl who had always managed to complete her tasks for Harry with absolute accuracy. She had never failed repeatedly like this before, which made Harry increasingly anxious about the safety of both Sirius and Professor Watson. Hermione, had suggested writing to Dumbledore about the situation. Her neat, precise handwriting had outlined a logical argument for involving the Headmaster, mentioning his vast magical knowledge and extensive network of contacts. But Harry hadn't followed her advice, and his reasons were two. On one hand, he thought Sirius and Professor Watson might simply be too far away for Hedwig to reach. Perhaps they were on some secret mission that required them to be undetectable, even to magical means of communication. Contacting Dumbledore over this seemed like an overreaction, and Harry was reluctant to bother him with what might turn out to be a trivial concern. On the other hand, Ron had raised a valid point in one of his letters: if there was a problem so severe that both Professor Watson and Sirius couldn't handle together, then even Dumbledore might not be able to help much. Bang! The sudden, jarring sound of a door slamming shut downstairs made Harry, who had been listening intently to every little sound in the house, jump out of bed. He rushed out of his room like a whirlwind, taking the stairs three at a time in his haste to reach the ground floor. His bare feet barely touched the steps as he descended, one hand trailing along the banister to keep his balance. In moments, he found himself standing alone in the dim living room, surrounded by the oppressive silence that had become all too familiar. Ignoring the enticing aroma of the steaming dinner laid out on the dining table, Harry's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the Dursleys. The house felt emptier than usual, the silence deeper. It didn't take long for him to reach the obvious conclusion: the Dursleys had gone out. In the past, they would often leave him at home when they went out, treating him more like an unwanted pet than a family member. But at least then they'd give him some brief warnings first – not to turn on the TV lest he enjoy himself too much, not to steal food from the fridge even if he was hungry, not to enter their rooms under any circumstances. They'd also briefly, grudgingly tell him where they were going. But now, true to their new policy of pretending he didn't exist, they had left without a word, though they had at least been thoughtful enough to prepare his dinner before departing. Just as Harry was about to go back to his room, resigned to another lonely evening, he noticed a small piece of paper on the coffee table. With a quick leap that would have made his Quidditch captain proud, he jumped over the sofa and snatched up the note. It was a hastily scribbled message from Aunt Petunia: "Marge has come to see us and Dudley. We're taking her out for dinner. Knowing you don't like her; we didn't invite you. Your dinner is on the table. Leave the dirty dishes; we'll deal with them when we return." "To hell with you!" Harry snarled; his face ashen. His hands trembled as he gripped the note, knuckles white with barely suppressed rage. For a moment, he fought the overwhelming urge to draw his wand and set the entire house ablaze, consequences be damned. It was only the memory of his previous close call with expulsion from Hogwarts that stayed his hand. Instead, he crumpled the note into a tight ball, pouring all his frustration and resentment into the action. With a cry of anguish that seemed to echo through the empty house, he hurled the paper to the floor as hard as he could. It bounced once before rolling under the sofa, out of sight but not out of mind. Harry stood there for a long moment, chest heaving, as he tried to regain control of his emotions. ******************************* For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

0386 Not so Happy Summer Holidays

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