Chapter Text
Harry crossed the Dursley’s pristine lawn, slumping sullenly on the garden bench. The sun-bleached paint was chipping off, flecks of dull green clinging to his too-big trousers. It was an especially bright day, and the sun beat down on the back of his head as he affixed his miserable gaze on the unassuming garden hedges nearby.
Harry was used to having less than spectacular birthdays by now, having lived all his life with relatives uncaring and sour as the Dursleys. But something about the previous year at Hogwartsーa certain ginger and a curly haired brunette to be preciseーhad him hoping that maybe his twelfth would be a tad different. He tried not to pay too much attention to how his stomach curled sharply in self pity as he sang himself a half-hearted happy birthday under his breath, and by the time he had made his way through the entire song, Harry found himself blinking away a suspicious mistiness in his eyes.
Just then, a voice piped up from above him. “Are you crying?” Harry jolted, whipping his head around to look at the unexpected intruder. A small face was grinning down at him from the low branches of the tree to his left. Hastily wiping at the unders of his eyes with the tattered sleeve of his too-big shirt, Harry replied stubbornly. “No, I wasn’t.” If his strange visitor noticed the telltale hoarseness in his voice, they didn’t mention it, hopping cheerily out of Aunt Petunia’s favorite orange tree.
“Well, if my singing was dreadful as yours, I’d be crying as well,” chirped the stranger.
Harry didn’t know whether to feel offended at the insult, which seemed to have come out of nowhere, or rather mortified at having been heard singing so miserably to himself. Either way, he found that he didn’t have the time to form an intelligible response, as the stranger had already unceremoniously plopped down on the bench beside him.
“Wha's your name?" The stranger asked, speaking around a mouthful of what appeared to be one of Aunt Petunia's prized oranges.
"I- uh, Harry. Harry Potter," answered Harry, watching awkwardly as you worked your way through your rather large orange. A bulb seemed to light up in your head upon hearing him, and immediately you shot up in your seat. You wiped roughly at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Harry Potter?” you hissed, disbelieving. Harry nodded, leaning back on account of your unprecedented enthusiasm.
Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, mouth forming an “o,” and you clasped his hand in an energetic handshake. “Harry Potter,” you sounded out his name brightly, responding with your own. “It’s an honor!” Harry thought he felt his arm come close to popping off his shoulder when you finally let go, beaming at him excitedly. “I think you know my auntーAunt Arabella. She told me that you lived nearby, I just never believed her!”
Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. “...Arabella?” He echoed uncertainly. You nodded eagerly. “Arabella Figg. You must know herーshe’s told me how awfully nice you were about looking through her cat photos, but I figured it was all a ruse to get me to stop complaining when she asked me to do the same.” Figg? Thought Harry. “Mrs. Figg, the cat lady?” Harry grimaced, before he could properly consider how rude it was to do so. To his relief, you only let out a conspiratorial snicker.
“That's her. I don’t blame you for thinking she’s a little… eccentric,” you said, and shoved Harry slightly when he raised his eyebrows at the latter part of your admission. You snorted, waving him off. “Okay, she’s lots eccentric,” you grinned. “Even my mom thinks so. We’re barely related, you see. She’s only very distantly tied to my mom’s side of the family through some obscure uncle, twice removed. I’m only staying with her this summer because she’s the only family we have in this part of the world.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised, this time in genuine curiosity. “Are you not from around here?” He asked. You shook your head no, and Harry thought you looked a tad bit wistful as you kept your gaze trained on the already yellowing leaves of autumn above the both of you.
“I live- well, used to live a long ways away from here, but mom-” You paused, swallowing harshly as if there were a blockage in your throat. “My parents reckon that us kids would best take up our studies away from home rather than in our old academy.”
Harry watched quietly as you toed at the fallen leaves underfoot, frowning slightly. “Most of the parents where I come from decided to send their kids out this year. There have been tensions, see- in my country the partition between magic and non-magic folk isn’t like it is here.”
“You don’t mean that you get to use magic out in the open - in front of muggles?” Asked Harry incredulously. You nodded indulgently, expression brightening a fraction as you recounted what you knew about magic society in your country.
“Neat, isn’t it? Before we were colonized by- by Europeans and Westerners centuries ago, people back home were quite immersed in the mystical arts. Even non-magic folk- muggles, did you say? Even they seem to have some kind of belief in the supernatural nowadays, with all the superstitions they observe. But we’re very discreet about it either way- there’s only so much that their... muggle minds are willing to take in.”
You sighed, frowning again. “But like I said, there have been tensions between them and us- have been ever since they elected their new leader.” Your frown twisted into a slight grimace. “Quite the bully- I don’t think he likes us very much. He won’t say it outright but his supporters have gotten it in their heads either way, and would do absolutely anything to give us a hard time.”
You sighed glumly. “ That means us kids must be safer studying elsewhere rather than at home,” you explained, muttering to yourself wryly. Harry thought he heard you say something about other reasons you might not be wanted at home, but he thought it best not to reply- judging from the way your face twisted uncomfortably when you said it.
The implications of your transfer finally clicked in Harry’s brain. For what he realized was the very first time since you sat down to talk with him, Harry's mind flitted to the thought of Hogwarts, and, by relation, the two friends whom he had yet to hear from all summer. Somehow, this made his heart jumped and his gut curled simultaneously, and he decided to ignore both.
“You mean to say you’re coming to Hogwarts this year?” He asked in trepidation. You snapped out of your moment of self pity and nodded, turning to look at him with hopeful eyes. “Yes, are you?” You asked. Harry nodded.
“Y’want to be friends?” You asked breathlessly, like you were asking him to fulfill an impossible request. Your hand was outstretched once more in renewed greeting. “I’d like that,” Harry grinned, and clasped your hand, returning the handshake this time with equal enthusiasm. In case Ron and Hermione had somehow decided over the summer to redact their extension of friendship, thought Harry, then at least he’d have another friend both in and out of Hogwarts.