Harry Potter's Bastard

"What the hell are you up to, boy?" asked Uncle Vernon in a low, slightly angry voice.

"What did I do?" Harry asked coldly. He kept looking down the street, still hoping to see who had made the bang. Harry understood that it wasn't a sound from a car, and Harry hadn't seen a car drive by. He suspected it was the sound of the apparition, and if it was, it meant that a wizard had just been near him.

"Make that sound like a pistol firing right outside our window—"

"If you didn't hear clearly, I can say it again - I didn't make it!" Harry pushed back.

At this moment, next to Uncle Vernon's fuchsia wide face, Aunt Penny's slender horse face appeared, and her face was pale.

"Why are you sneaking under our windows?"

"Good question! Good question, dear. The fat on Vernon's face trembled, "Tell me, why are you hiding under the window, what are you going to do?"

"Listen to the news. Harry said in a submissive voice.

Aunt and Uncle exchanged glances angrily.

"Listen to the news!"

Every time the news was broadcast, Harry would try his best to get close to the television, as the Dursleys knew.

"Don't be clever with me, boy! I want to know what you're up to - stop telling me anything about the news or anything like that! You know in your heart that you guys—"

"Shhhh

"Watch out, Vernon!" Aunt Penny said nervously, and Uncle Vernon kept his voice so low that Harry could barely hear what he was saying.

"-You people don't show up in our news!"

"That's what you think. Harry was not polite: "Maybe you don't know it yet, but the man has returned. Sooner or later, he will affect you Muggles. I listen to the news just to see if there are any clues about his or his men's activities. "

"He—who is that?" Vernon hadn't understood yet, but Penny knew exactly what Harry was talking about.

“...... Is the killer back?" Petunia looked a little frightened.

"Yes, just before the holidays, I saw it with my own eyes. Harry nodded, he knew that his aunt knew more or less about the wizarding world.

"You mean the guy who killed your parents?" said Vernon with a sneering look on his face. "What about your friends? Didn't they contact you?"

Harry bit his cheek and didn't speak.

"Tell the truth, boy, as if we didn't know you could get all the news from those pesky birds!" Vernon said, waving his arm thicker than Harry's waist.

Harry hesitated for a moment. There was a price to pay for telling the truth this time, although it was impossible for the aunt and uncle to know how sad he was when he admitted it.

"Owl - don't send me any more messages. He said dryly.

"I don't believe it. Aunt Petunia said at once.

"I don't believe it either. Uncle Vernon followed forcefully.

"We're not fools, you know. Vernon leaned his big face close to Harry.

"Oh, that's news to me. Harry said that his anger had risen, and before the Dursleys could call him back, he turned and ran across the grass in front of the door, and over the low wall of the garden, and strode out into the street.

He's in trouble, he knows. Later, he will have to face his aunt and uncle and pay the price for his rude words and deeds, but now he can't control that much. He had more pressing things on his mind to consider.

Harry was now more and more sure that the sound was the sound of a phantom shifter, and that someone who could do magic was nearby when he was lying under the window, for sure. Why didn't they talk to him? Why didn't they get in touch with him? Why are they hiding now? As the disappointment in his heart reached a peak, his self-confidence began to waver.

Maybe it wasn't a magical sound at all. Perhaps he was too desperate for a hint of contact from his world, and was fussed by some of the most mundane voices. Was he sure it wasn't the sound of something breaking in the neighbor's house?, Harry felt a sense of frustration and loss in his heart, and then the despair that had been tormenting him all summer suddenly overwhelmed him once more.

Harry had expected the owls to send him letters from Ron or Hermione, and he had hoped that their letters would bring him news, but that expectation had long since been dashed. Harry didn't expect anything from the owl now.

The playground door was locked, and Harry leaped over it, stepping on the dry grass. The playground was as empty as the surrounding streets. He went to where the swing was, found a Dudley and his friends had not had time to destroy it, and sat on it, one arm in a chain, and a melancholy look at the ground. He could no longer hide in the flowerbeds of the Dursleys. Tomorrow, he had to figure out another way to eavesdrop on the news - the only thing Harry could do during the holidays.

Sometimes Harry dreamed of long, dimly lit corridors ending in dead ends or locked doors, which he was so disturbed by these dreams that Harry guessed it had something to do with the beastly emotions he felt when he was awake. The scar on his forehead was often stinging and uncomfortable.

Harry had long known from Solim that his scar was somehow related to Voldemort, and that when Voldemort came back that night, his scar was extremely painful, but now that he was back, the only thing his scar could do now might be when Voldemort was close to him. Harry even had some hope that Voldemort would appear on Privet Road now, so that at least he knew what he was doing, instead of thinking about how to eavesdrop on the news every day.

The playground door was locked, and Harry leaped over it, stepping on the dry grass. The playground was as empty as the surrounding streets. He went to where the swing was, found a Dudley and his friends had not had time to destroy it, and sat on it, one arm in a chain, and a melancholy look at the ground.

Harry was so impressed that it was not far from here that he had met Sirius for the first time, though he was a dog at the time. Thinking of Sirius, Harry couldn't help but feel a little aggrieved, his godfather is no longer in contact with him, presumably Dumbledore has a task for him, what is he doing now?

Harry was suddenly angry, he had been in this place for four weeks and had not heard anything - oh, and he couldn't say that. Harry thought of the crumpled parchment he had at the end of his bed, the parchment he had seen, that his father had made with his friends.

Solim had said he would give him the map for his birthday, and he did.

Harry thought that perhaps this was the most heartwarming thing about this terrible holiday—even if he often couldn't sleep at night.