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Harry didn’t really like school.
That was a fact.
He hadn’t made any friends. (mostly due to his cousin’s influence.)
Not to mention the work, whenever he tried to read anything the words just clumped together as one large block, making it difficult for him to read. Writing was similar, he could write!
But his writing would slowly droop down and fall off the lines, he’d leave awkward spaces in between letters, and his handwriting was not the best.
So being in year five, wasn’t something he liked. So he sat in class with his arms folded on the table and his head resting on the desk.
He did that until the bell rang and everyone rushed out of class with their friends.
Before he could get up, his teacher approached him. “Harry?” He looked up at his teacher. “Hm.” He hummed.
“Well I’ve noticed that you struggle with the work I’ve been setting.” Harry looked down, he knew how all this went. She’d scold him and tell him to work harder. Even though he did work hard!
“So I want you to do your own assignment, instead of the work I set in class.” He looked up, he was not expecting that.
“I want you to practice writing letters, I think they’ll help you with your confidence in your writing.” She explained.
“You’d only have to write them in class and then I’d look them over. You can even keep the letters if you want.” She said with a gentle smile. “What do you think?” She asked.
“I’d… like that.” Harry nodded shyly.
And that’s how he had started writing letters. His teacher, Miss Jana, asked him to write a different theme each time, sometimes she would ask him to write letters to book characters, and other times she would ask him to write formal letters.
However, this time she had asked him to write to a pen pal. And so he did.
Dear, whoever gets this letter
My name is Harry, I’m 9, and I live in England, with my aunt and her family. I’m writing to you because I need to work on my writing skills. I like cooking, and it’s been a lot easier to do so, now that I can see over the stove. I don’t really like gardening since it can be cold in March, and very hot in the summer. What are things you like to do?
I hope you reply, Harry.
It was his first time writing to a theoretical person, which meant he didn’t know much about the person he was writing to.
After school, he posted the letter into the red letter box on the corner of the pavement.
He hoped he’d get a reply.
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Rabastan sat drained in his cell. Azkaban was hell, and the deranged screams didn’t help the atmosphere.
He had to admit that sometimes, he found himself being the one behind those sorts of screams. Azkaban just did that to people.
Making them scream just to feel something. Just to feel more than a husk, for once.
Aside from that, life in Azkaban was monotonous.
So imagine his surprise when he got a letter. He read through it twice, not believing what he was seeing.
He would laugh, if that didn’t attract the dementors.
A letter from a nine year old child, it was ludacris! He must’ve been as mad as Belatrix!
He looked around the cell to see anything that he could write with. However, there was nothing.
“Psst.” He whispered to the cell next to him. His brother answered. “What?” Rodolphus asked.
“Do you have anything to write with?”
“No, why would I? Why would you even need to write something?”
He paused, contemplating if his brother would believe him.
“I got a letter.”
“You must be mad! How would a letter even end up in a place like this?”
“I don’t know!”
“Here I’ll prove it!” He picked up the letter and waved it outside the bars of his cell. The distinct sound of paper was enough proof.
“How…?”
“Just give me something to write with!”
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The next morning, Harry was surprised to find a response. The letter was somehow in his cupboard.
Written on the back of his original letter, was writing which appeared to be written with someone's finger, with something like dust.
Dear Harry,
My name is Rabastan, I live with my brother and co-workers. I must say for a 9 year old you have impeccable penmanship. It’s interesting that a young wizard such as yourself likes cooking, as stuff like that is for house elf’s. However, it is still a commendable hobby. As for your dislike of gardening, I’d simply delegate such a task to a house elf, if it is too much trouble.
As for things that I enjoy, I quite liked the study of the dark arts, unfortunately I’m no longer able to pursue it.
I look forward to a reply, Rabastan.
After reading the letter Harry was ecstatic, and quickly grabbed a piece of paper from his school bag, and wrote a reply.
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Dear Rabastan,
Harry had struggled to write the name, and had to look back at the other letter multiple times just to check.
I’m so happy that you replied to my letter! However, I have a few questions. First of all, what is a house elf? My aunt's family doesn’t like fantasy in the house, however I was able to read some fantasy books at school, and elves were in some of them. Are house elves like the ones in the books?
Also what are the dark arts, and why can’t you do them anymore? Is magic real?
I hope for a reply, Harry
“Oh no! He’s a muggle at worst, or a mudblood at best!” Rodolphus shook his head.
“He’d at least have to be a mudblood to send a letter to a place like this.” Rabastan analysed.
“That’s true…” Rodolphus spoke slowly.
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Rabastan tapped his fingers along the letter.
“WHAT?! Have you turned traitor!” Rodolphus accused.
“It’s not like THAT.” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter as long as he can send us stuff to escape.” Rabastan defended himself.
“I didn’t even think about that.” Rodolphus said.
“Yeah you don’t do a lot of thinking.” Rabastan snarked.
He didn’t give his brother any time to respond to the insult.
“I’ll write a reply now.”
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Dear Harry,
I must inform you that magic is indeed real. I was in fact a part of an organisation that sought to restore the true magical values back into Britain. However, our leader was slain, and we were captured by the enemy. The dark arts is a branch of magic that focuses on dark magic, since I’ve been captured by the enemy I have sadly been unable to perform magic.
As for what house elves are, they are short creatures that do household chores and tasks.
I look forward to a reply, Rabastan.
As Harry read the letter he felt absolutely horrified. His friend was captured, and he couldn’t do magic anymore! Not to mention the others trapped, unable to do magic either.
But, Harry was also exhilarated. Magic was real! He always knew that the strange things that happened around him were no coincidence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Rabastan,
I am sorry all that happened to you when you were trying to do the right thing. I wish I could help more but the only thing I’m able to do is give you chocolate, I hid it from my cousin, since he always takes my Halloween sweets. However I think you and your brother need it more.
Also if you don’t mind, could you tell me more about magic?
I look forward to a reply, Harry
The next day, on the way to school Harry posted the letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rabastan was surprised by what he found in the letter.
Chocolate, now it was a tad melted, and it had sugar blooms. However, being surrounded by dementors and all, the thing was practically gold.
“What did the letter say this time?”
“What’s all this about letters?” An irritatingly familiar voice spoke.
“None of your business Black.” Rabastan snarled.
“I’d hate to agree with black, but you two have been mumbling about letters for the past week now. So what are you on about?” Mulciber questioned, a few mumbles of agreement coming from the other cells.
Rabastan froze, he selfishly wanted to keep the letters all to himself. However, if he did truly want them all to escape from the hell that trapped them all. He’d at least need to tell them about the letters.
If he didn’t his brother would cave eventually, especially if Bellatrix asked.
“I’ve been getting letters from somebody outside of the prison.” Rabastan spoke calmly.
“And you didn’t think to mention it!” Mulciber yelled.
“Who is it? Is it Lucius, someone we know?” Travers asked.
He paused, how was he going to tell them that a nine year old child was somehow bypassing Azkaban security, just to write to a pen pal? It was mad!
He settled with telling them the truth.
“First of all I was going to mention it… eventually.” He defended. “And secondly, it’s a nine year old child sending the letters.” He mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Mulciber asked in confusion, not hearing what he’d said.
“A nine year old child sending the letters and bypassing Azkaban security.” He spoke more clearly.
“You must be mad to think we’d believe that!” Mulciber shouted.
“No, no it's true. He has shown me the letters.” Rodolphus confirmed.
Silence.
“I have a plan though! He can send us things, so that we can escape!” Rabastan explained.
“Wait so he can send us his parents' wand! Or at least his practice wand!” Travers rejoiced.
“Well… he’s most definitely a mudblood…” Rabastan murmured.
“Are you certain?” Travers asked, hoping for it to be false.
“He didn’t even know that magic was real until I told him about it.” Rabastan explained.
“A filthy mudblood! We’re doomed…” Mulciber hit the ground.
“Not necessarily! He could send us the tools to make a wand! And other things! As long as we keep feeding him information about the magical world, he’ll be content and keep on sending stuff!” Rabastan argued, he still had hope that his plan would work.
“Like you, death eaters would be able to pull all that off!” Black mocked.
“Shut it Black, this doesn’t concern you.” Rabastan grew tired of Black's voice.
His plan was excellent, it would work.
He also hid the fact that Harry had sent him chocolate, they didn’t need to know that…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry had been getting letters from his pen pals for about a month now. And yes he said pen pals as in plural. After giving the chocolate to Rabastan, he’d been receiving letters from different people.
They said they were friends with Rabastan, and they even told him some cool things about magic! They even taught him cool spells, however he didn’t have a wand to cast any of it.
His pen pals needed some strange materials to escape their captors. First, they needed sticks. Harry made sure to pick up a variety of different sticks, making sure they were as straight as possible.
He also collected cat hair from Mrs Figg's cats, ash from the fireplace, feathers, bones, whiskers, anything he could get his hands on really.
And they needed paper and pencils since they didn’t have any.
And in exchange for the materials he’d get to learn even more about magic!
All of his pen pals had different areas of interest, Mulciber for example liked potions. He’d write down recipes for potions, Harry thought it was cool, even though he didn’t have any of the ingredients to practice with.
Rodolphus liked charms, Travers liked transfiguration, he could go on, and on.
Recently in his letters he’d started to include more about himself in the letters, like what happened that week, his favourite colour, favourite animal.
And in return he’d learn something about his pen pals. For instance a lot of his pen pals' favourite colour was green! Although Rodolphus said he liked purple, which was a decent colour, in Harry’s book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I’m concerned.” Rabastan spoke.
“Hm?” The collective hummed
“Harry’s relatives seem to be working him like a house elf!” Rabastan ranted.
“Those no good, filthy muggles.” Mulciber cursed.
“When we get out….” Rodolphus threatened.
“Wait, did you say Harry?” Black asked
“Ughh, why did you have to be placed right next to us.” Travers rolled his eyes.
“Harry Potter?”
Everyone froze. There was no way… the boy had no idea what magic was, the boy was being raised by muggles, going to a muggle school.
The boy was helping them escape! Well… he didn’t know exactly what their cause was, however they had been teaching the boy the proper wizarding values.
There was just no way, the boy who had killed the dark lord, their Lord, could be the same child.
What were the odds?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Harry,
What is your last name?
Sincerely, everyone.
Harry was surprised by the short letter. But he replied to the question anyway.
Dear everyone,
My last name is Potter. Hope that helps.
-harry
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“My god son has been aiding death eaters in their escape…” Black said, almost not believing himself.
“We’ve been consorting with the enemy!”
“This changes nothing.” Some agreed with his statement… however, others.
“How can you say that? Do you have no loyalty to our Lord!” Bellatrix yelled. She hadn’t written to the boy that often, so she had little connection to him.
“He’s the only way we’ll be able to help our Lord, if we can’t escape, then we’re useless to the dark lord.” Rabastan justified his thinking.
“Our wands should be done in a year or two. We just need to wait.”
“Your loyalty to that man is disgusting.” Black gagged.
“Shut it Black!”
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A few years later.
Harry had grown close to his pen pals, he continued to write to them throughout year six.
He missed Miss Jana, however the word kept turning, and he needed to adjust to a new teacher. He still had his pen pals at least.
He’d just come back from the zoo, he’d gotten a letter that morning, however, this one hadn’t just appeared in his cupboard, instead it had come through the letterbox.
It was from Hogwarts! However, he didn’t get to read it. But that's besides the point, he had to tell everyone he’d gotten his Hogwarts letter!
Dear everyone,
I have great news! I finally got my Hogwarts letter, sadly, I didn’t get to read it. It was also my cousin's birthday today. I was dragged along to the zoo with him, which I didn’t actually mind.
Also is it normal to talk to snakes?
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“He can talk to snakes…” Rabastan muttered.
“What! I thought only the dark lord could do that!” Mulciber jaw went slack.
“Does that mean he’s the next dark lord!?”
“What does this mean?” There was a lot of confusion in the prison.
“Calm down everyone.” Everyone begrudgingly calmed down. “Who even made you the boss…” Mulciber murmured.
“The wands are ready, why don’t we pay Harry a visit?”