The Real Memory
Christmas Visitors
Harry always thought that the Dursleys house looked like something out of a fairy tale when it snowed around Christmastime
Just like it did right now.
They weren't expecting him until tomorrow, so no one had met him at the train station. Trying to clear his mind of the uncomfortable memories and odd newspaper articles, he had decided to walk rather than call them or a cab.
The snow drifted down around him as he looked at the only home he had ever known. He had so many happy memories in this house, yet not all the memories were happy. He had other memories, ones that he tried to keep buried. Memories of only getting old socks for Christmas, of being locked in cupboard under the stairs, and of being emotionally and verbally abused all the time.
Shaking his head to clear it of the horrible memories, Harry shouldered his duffle bag and walked up the drive to snow-covered house bedecked in cheerful Christmas lights.
The front door was unlocked, so Harry turned the knob and stepped inside as he hollered, "Hey! I'm home!"
Home – that was what this house was. His flat in London wasn't home, that was just where he stayed between games. He had no family there, no close friends – just fans and people that were only friends as long as he was famous.
"Harry?" He heard his Aunt Petunia say as she stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway. Upon seeing him she smiled and ran towards – enveloping him in a hug an instant after he dropped his bag on the floor.
Once he escaped the hug he took off his jacket and hung it up in the closet as she watched with a happy smile on her face as she looked him over. "You really don't eat enough do you? Don't worry! We'll fatten you up while you're here!"
Harry chuckled, "Aunt Petunia, if you fatten me up I won't be able to run fast enough to score goals."
"Nonsense! Now come in here and have some tea. We have a guest over by the way. He's an up and coming executive at Vernon's company. He's a rather pleasant young man. He'll be joining us for Christmas Dinner also since he's unable to get to his family for the holidays because of work. I think you'll like him"
"If you and Uncle Vernon like him, I'm sure I will also." Harry said as he tried to dispel memories of a house elf and a dropped pudding.
Harry followed Aunt Petunia into the kitchen. When she moved out of the way he turned to great the young executive, a pleasant smile on his face.
Harry froze in shock at the sight of the person sitting in a chair, talking to Uncle Vernon. No… It couldn't be… He just LOOKED like someone from Harry's dream memories. His name couldn't be-
"Percy Weasley, this is our nephew, Harry Potter." Aunt Petunia said in introduction.
The bespectacled redhead stood up and stuck his hand out towards Harry. "Harry Potter? As in the soccer player?"
Numbly, Harry nodded as shook hands with Percy. This couldn't be happening. How had he dreamed about this person years before he met him?
"Amazing! I know it's rude, but would you mind if I got an autograph? My younger brother is a huge fan of yours." Percy gushed as he continued to shake Harry's hand.
Wanting his hand back, Harry found the ability to speak. "Oh, no problem, just let me get some paper and a pen."
Percy immediately let go of Harry's hand as Aunt Petunia gave him a piece of paper and a pen.
"His name's Ronald Weasley, though you can probably just address it to Ron. He'll love it. This will more than make up for my being unable to join them this year." Percy said excitedly.
Ron… Harry couldn't believe it. Ron was real also, he was here. Memories of first meeting Ron on the Hogwarts expressed flashed through his mind. Just signing a piece of paper wasn't good enough for Ron. Harry had a better idea. Even if this Ron wasn't the same one as in his dream, he couldn't just give him a piece of paper.
"Hold on a second. I'll be right back." Harry said as he got up and ran out of the room.
Hurrying upstairs he opened his cabinet and pulled out an old soccer ball, one he had used when he was younger. Grabbing a sharpie off his desk he wrote a short note on the ball.
Ron,
Life is like a game of chess, you have to lose some to win some and find your checkmate. If you ever want a ticket to a game, let me know.
Harry Potter
Harry didn't know why he wrote the part about the tickets. He really didn't know this person, he only knew a Ron from his odd dream memories, but still, he couldn't help himself.
Hurrying back downstairs he tossed the ball at Percy, "Give that to your brother."
Percy's eyes grew wide in shock as he read the words on the ball. "Blimey Harry, this is too much."
Harry shrugged, "No it's not, but if you think so then repay me by telling me a bit about your family."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia watched on curiously – Uncle Vernon from his place by the fire and Aunt Petunia from the kitchen as she fixed some more tea.
"Well, my father's a civil servant and my mother is a homemaker. I have six siblings. The oldest is Bill –he's married to a French woman and works for a bank. Next is Charlie – he's a Zoologist and works down in Africa. In terms of age I'm next. Then comes Fred and George – they're twins and they own a party/joke shop in London called Zonkos. Next is Ron – he's a police officer in London and a diehard soccer fan. The youngest and only girl is Ginny – she's a reporter that usually covers sporting events. That's the Weasley Clan." Percy says in a rush.
Harry felt like he was going into shock. Sure, there was no magic involved in what they were doing. But every single Weasleys' job was insanely close to what they had been in his dream.
Harry didn't want to think about it very much, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that his dream all those years ago probably hadn't been a dream.
Unconsciously Harry reached up and touched his lightning bolt necklace as Aunt Petunia pressed a hot cup of tea in his other hand.
As he fiddled with the necklace he couldn't help but wonder: If that hadn't been a dream, what had it been? Was this the dream? Was he actually lying there in the Forbidden Forest? If so, why hadn't Voldemort succeeded in killing him?
Just like it did right now.
They weren't expecting him until tomorrow, so no one had met him at the train station. Trying to clear his mind of the uncomfortable memories and odd newspaper articles, he had decided to walk rather than call them or a cab.
The snow drifted down around him as he looked at the only home he had ever known. He had so many happy memories in this house, yet not all the memories were happy. He had other memories, ones that he tried to keep buried. Memories of only getting old socks for Christmas, of being locked in cupboard under the stairs, and of being emotionally and verbally abused all the time.
Shaking his head to clear it of the horrible memories, Harry shouldered his duffle bag and walked up the drive to snow-covered house bedecked in cheerful Christmas lights.
The front door was unlocked, so Harry turned the knob and stepped inside as he hollered, "Hey! I'm home!"
Home – that was what this house was. His flat in London wasn't home, that was just where he stayed between games. He had no family there, no close friends – just fans and people that were only friends as long as he was famous.
"Harry?" He heard his Aunt Petunia say as she stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway. Upon seeing him she smiled and ran towards – enveloping him in a hug an instant after he dropped his bag on the floor.
Once he escaped the hug he took off his jacket and hung it up in the closet as she watched with a happy smile on her face as she looked him over. "You really don't eat enough do you? Don't worry! We'll fatten you up while you're here!"
Harry chuckled, "Aunt Petunia, if you fatten me up I won't be able to run fast enough to score goals."
"Nonsense! Now come in here and have some tea. We have a guest over by the way. He's an up and coming executive at Vernon's company. He's a rather pleasant young man. He'll be joining us for Christmas Dinner also since he's unable to get to his family for the holidays because of work. I think you'll like him"
"If you and Uncle Vernon like him, I'm sure I will also." Harry said as he tried to dispel memories of a house elf and a dropped pudding.
Harry followed Aunt Petunia into the kitchen. When she moved out of the way he turned to great the young executive, a pleasant smile on his face.
Harry froze in shock at the sight of the person sitting in a chair, talking to Uncle Vernon. No… It couldn't be… He just LOOKED like someone from Harry's dream memories. His name couldn't be-
"Percy Weasley, this is our nephew, Harry Potter." Aunt Petunia said in introduction.
The bespectacled redhead stood up and stuck his hand out towards Harry. "Harry Potter? As in the soccer player?"
Numbly, Harry nodded as shook hands with Percy. This couldn't be happening. How had he dreamed about this person years before he met him?
"Amazing! I know it's rude, but would you mind if I got an autograph? My younger brother is a huge fan of yours." Percy gushed as he continued to shake Harry's hand.
Wanting his hand back, Harry found the ability to speak. "Oh, no problem, just let me get some paper and a pen."
Percy immediately let go of Harry's hand as Aunt Petunia gave him a piece of paper and a pen.
"His name's Ronald Weasley, though you can probably just address it to Ron. He'll love it. This will more than make up for my being unable to join them this year." Percy said excitedly.
Ron… Harry couldn't believe it. Ron was real also, he was here. Memories of first meeting Ron on the Hogwarts expressed flashed through his mind. Just signing a piece of paper wasn't good enough for Ron. Harry had a better idea. Even if this Ron wasn't the same one as in his dream, he couldn't just give him a piece of paper.
"Hold on a second. I'll be right back." Harry said as he got up and ran out of the room.
Hurrying upstairs he opened his cabinet and pulled out an old soccer ball, one he had used when he was younger. Grabbing a sharpie off his desk he wrote a short note on the ball.
Ron,
Life is like a game of chess, you have to lose some to win some and find your checkmate. If you ever want a ticket to a game, let me know.
Harry Potter
Harry didn't know why he wrote the part about the tickets. He really didn't know this person, he only knew a Ron from his odd dream memories, but still, he couldn't help himself.
Hurrying back downstairs he tossed the ball at Percy, "Give that to your brother."
Percy's eyes grew wide in shock as he read the words on the ball. "Blimey Harry, this is too much."
Harry shrugged, "No it's not, but if you think so then repay me by telling me a bit about your family."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia watched on curiously – Uncle Vernon from his place by the fire and Aunt Petunia from the kitchen as she fixed some more tea.
"Well, my father's a civil servant and my mother is a homemaker. I have six siblings. The oldest is Bill –he's married to a French woman and works for a bank. Next is Charlie – he's a Zoologist and works down in Africa. In terms of age I'm next. Then comes Fred and George – they're twins and they own a party/joke shop in London called Zonkos. Next is Ron – he's a police officer in London and a diehard soccer fan. The youngest and only girl is Ginny – she's a reporter that usually covers sporting events. That's the Weasley Clan." Percy says in a rush.
Harry felt like he was going into shock. Sure, there was no magic involved in what they were doing. But every single Weasleys' job was insanely close to what they had been in his dream.
Harry didn't want to think about it very much, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that his dream all those years ago probably hadn't been a dream.
Unconsciously Harry reached up and touched his lightning bolt necklace as Aunt Petunia pressed a hot cup of tea in his other hand.
As he fiddled with the necklace he couldn't help but wonder: If that hadn't been a dream, what had it been? Was this the dream? Was he actually lying there in the Forbidden Forest? If so, why hadn't Voldemort succeeded in killing him?