Situational Ethics

Situational Ethics

By Mizzfreestyle
Edited by: Amanda Saitou


Disclaimer:. I do not own anything HP related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.


Chapter Four:

“Write To Me, Please”

Harry was just there, sitting, starring outside his window, hoping that somewhere out there, Snape had sent an owl and it was flying his way. Maybe he was writing a lover letter, maybe just a letter to let Harry know how he was doing, or something trivial to Snape that would mean the world to Harry. Sighing, Harry laid his head on his crossed arms on the window ledge. He didn’t want to think too much on it, but he really wanted Snape to write something to him. It had nearly been a month since he had left Hogwarts. “What are you doing up there, boy?!”

Harry jerked and nearly fell over. “I’m resting!” Harry yelled back.

“You lazy, good-for-nothing, get your scrawny arse down here and wash the dishes! They won’t clean themselves!”

Uncle Vernon then went to sit on the couch along with his son, Dudley.

Harry jumped a few steps at the bottom as he made his way to the kitchen, then Vernon yelled, “Do you have to sound like an elephant when you come down?”

Oh, Merlin. Harry had this really good comeback, but held it in. Vernon would surely yank him by his hair and toss him out.

So, Harry just grabbed the sponge and dish soap and began to scrub away. It wasn’t until he had almost one plate left did Dudley bring over five plates that he and his dad had been using to eat their afternoon snacks. He dumped it in the sink where several clean plates had been resting, and poured grease all over them. With his greasy fingers, Dudley wiped them off on his pants then when to sit down. Harry rolled his eyes and wished he could use his wand to curse that poor excuse of a human. Harry was then was nearly scared out of his pants where Vernon and Dudley began screaming. Harry thought that someone had broken into the house, but it was even worse. Their favorite wrestler had lost the match. Harry sighed. He knew they were going to be grump and agitated all day. Hopefully Dudley wouldn’t take out his anger on Harry.

Nearly 30 minutes later, Harry had finished washing and was drying the towel when his aunt walked through the doors. She had bags of groceries in her hands and snapped at Harry to come over and take them to the kitchen. Harry quickly dried his hands, walked over, grabbed some bags, and carried them to the kitchen. When he finished with that, he was hoping that he could go to his room, but couldn’t since that blasted other aunt of his, the one that he had blown up, suddenly arrived. Things never went well when she came over to visit. Aunt Marge greeted Dudley by squeezing then pecking his cheeks, “My, you’ve grown!”

Grown was an understatement. The boy was the size of a hippo last time she was over. Since then, Dudley had grown to be the size of an elephant. As soon as she turned around, her eyes fell on Harry. Revenge was written across her forehead as she took a seat on the couch besides Dudley. “What’s he still doing here?” she asked out loud to Uncle Vernon.

Leaning up against the wall calmly made Harry feel like he was just waiting for either trouble, or an order. He mentally wished that he could blow her up again, and this time, send the miniature planet into orbit. Imagine that; planet Marge. Harry was disrupted from his thoughts when Aunt Marge snapped at him and ordered, “Fetch us some liquor.”

Detaching himself from the wall, he hurried over to grab the bottle of liquor and then some glasses. Harry placed them on the table and Uncle Vernon took it from there. Harry leaned himself back up against the wall, and was quite satisfied with how the evening was going so far, if it hadn’t been for that blasted cork that shot up and hit Aunt Marge dead center on the forehead. She quickly got up and hurried over to Harry raising her fat finger, “You listen here, you bloody delinquent juvenile, if you try anything this time around, I’ll make sure to bring you back home with me and send you to some delinquent program by my house where I will supervise how you are handled.”

Harry looked down, not doubting his aunt’s words.

Aunt Marge huffed, then returned to her seat. She downed the liquor in one gulp, then said, “Fill ‘er up!”

Gladly, Uncle Vernon filled up the glass to the brim, and once again, Aunt Marge downed the thing. Harry was beginning to wonder if he would have a drunken aunt on his hands to deal with. “You know, Vernon, if I was you, I would’ve put out that insubordinate boy long ago,” she placed her hand on Dudley’s shoulder and continued, “My poor Dudley. How are you coping with him?”

Dudley took in a deep breath and said proudly, “I give him some of the old one-two.”

“You tell her, boy,” Uncle Vernon raised his cup to Dudley.

Aunt Marge rubbed Dudley’s shoulder, then poured her nephew a glass. “Here you go boy. Drink up!”

At first, Dudley’s eyes widen with greed as he snatched the glass from his aunt, then drank some down. After struggling with a few gulps, he finished the glass, and his aunt reached for the bottle. “Don’t be shy, have some more. You deserve it.”

Harry chuckled. Not only was she making herself drunken with alcohol, she was trying to make Dudley wasted. Perfect, then maybe they’ll all fall asleep and he can help himself to food before he runs off to bed. However, it was still too early in the day to be dreaming. Across the telly, they once again announced the losers in the tournament, and Aunt Marge hurled her glass across the room directly at the telly. The glass shattered and startled Harry. Aunt Marge stood up and said, “Rubbish! Our champion has never lost before!”

She looked over to Harry and began wobbling over to him since she couldn’t very well walk straight anymore. Before Harry could turn and run, Aunt Marge grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him over. “I could’ve beaten that fool with one hand! Let me show you, Dudley, how it is done.”

Aunt Petunia reluctantly sat still as Aunt Marge picked Harry up like a rag doll and threw him over her shoulder. No one was sure what she did with her arms, but they soon heard a loud crack, and then a painful yelp. Aunt Marge released Harry and the boy fell to the floor in immense pain. He cuddled up in a fetus position and wrapped his arms around his stomach. Uncle Vernon stood there speechless until Aunt Marge filled up another glass and then said, “Sit down. The boy’s fine.”

But Harry’s wasn’t fine. His stomach arched, and he was definitely sure that a few of his ribs felt a little loose. What had she done to him? “Get up, boy! You’re making a scene!” Aunt Marge snapped her fingers a few times. “Fetch some food, I’m starving.”

Harry made a slow attempt to stand, but he only got so far before his body jerked and he fell back on the floor.

Aunt Petunia looked over her shoulder at Harry and winced. Harry didn’t look too good from where she sat.

“Come on boy! What good are you around here if you can’t even take a little pain? Be a man!”

It was painful, but Harry finally managed to get to his feet and instead of heading towards the kitchen, he slowly worked his way over to the stairs. Before Aunt Marge could question him, some wrestler showed up on screen and she was hooked.

Harry managed to make it to his room before the fight was over, and so he closed the door and fell onto the bed. He then looked up at his owl’s cage. Hedwig had come back! “Hedwig!” Harry twitched a smile, “Did you bring any letters back from Severus?”

Hedwig motioned towards the desk. Harry reached over and flipped through the few letters he had. One was from Hermione, one from Ron, a few from Fred and George, one from Dumbledore, but none from Snape. Harry sighed. He had sent the man at least eight letters over the course of the summer, and still he had not received one. Harry tossed the letters to the side and tried to make himself comfortable on the bed. “Why won’t he write to me? I swear it’s almost as if he’s dead! I haven’t heard from him since the beginning of summer! I know he’s busy with the Order, but it doesn’t take that long to write a letter!”

Harry pulled over a blanket and moaned. His ribs… he was almost certain that Aunt Marge had broken them. “Bitch…,” Harry felt like kicking something. If only he wasn’t in so much pain.

Harry fell asleep after that, and didn’t wake until several hours later. There was a loud crash downstairs, and Harry groaned as he turned over slightly. He winced once he remembered the pain he was in, and tried to settle back into a more comfortable position. Then, there was another crash. “How many drinks did that women drink?” Harry looked up to see if he could see Hedwig through the dark, but she was gone. “Hedwig?”

Harry didn’t bother sitting up. He would surely cry from the pain. He tried to pull up the blanket just a bit more, then a third crash assured Harry that something was up.

Now Harry could hear someone running up the stairs. Harry propped himself up on his elbows just slightly in case he needed to reach for his wand, and braced himself.

Whoever it was ran right past his bedroom door. Harry sighed in relief, and plopped back down.

Harry fell asleep after that and didn’t wake up until the next morning. His ribs were still in pain, but maybe he could write a letter. Harry reached for a piece of parchment and a pen.

Dear Severus,

Hi; it’s me again. I’m sure you’ve gotten my letters, and I can understand if you are too busy to respond promptly to any of them. Things here are the same as always. Expect yesterday my Aunt Marge came over for a little visit and she attacked me. I hope it’s nothing serious, but I really do need a pain reliever… and perhaps something to mend bones….

(Harry’s hand hovered over the paper for a few seconds before he hesitantly wrote:)

I really miss you, Severus. I wish to know if you are alright. Please send a pain reliever if not a letter.

Yours,
Harry

Harry folded the letter up and placed it in Hedwig’s cage. The snowy owl should be arriving anytime soon now.

Just then there was a loud banging on the door. Startled, Harry quickly turned to face it and awaited a commanding voice. “What are you still doing in bed?! The house is in disorder! Hurry up and clean the lot up!” Vernon ordered.

Harry took a deep breath, and yelled, “I’m in extreme pain! Leave me alone!”

“You don’t know the meaning of pain!”

“Shut up! You’re giving me a headache!” There was absolute silence on the other end that didn’t allow peace to stir in Harry’s mind. Vernon must’ve been pissed.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that!” Vernon started to ram against the door.

Harry swallowed and said, “I said leave me alone! I have my wand!”

“You’re not suppose to use magic outside of school!”

“Oh yeah?! Try me!” Harry provoked.

The ramming stopped, and Harry could hear Vernon walking away. Now Harry would have to stay cooped up in his room all day. Oh well. It shouldn’t be so bad.

He closed his eyes and tried to drift back off to sleep, and before he could even register that he wasn’t awake, he had woken up at a later time. The sun was setting and the letter was missing from the cage. Hedwig must’ve taken it. Harry’s head felt like it was exploding, and his ribs were still throbbing.

Just then, Harry could hear something just outside his window. He looked over and saw Fred and George peering in. The window was open in order to let the air in, and so the twins invited themselves in. “Good afternoon to you, Harry,” they both said at once.

“Fred. George. What are you doing here?” Harry was scared that they would he heard, but excited that someone had come to visit him.

“We came to rescue you of course,” they said. It was almost like the beginning of the second year all over again, “Ron’s right outside keeping watch.”

Harry smiled and was about to get up to greet them, but stop short. “Ow!”

Fred and George raised a brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I think my ribs are broken,” said Harry as calmly as he could.

The twins hustled over to Harry side and one pulled up his shirt. The bruises looked like a stretched collage of purple, blue, black, and green over the area where Harry was sore. George ran his hand over Harry’s skin, and Harry winced. “Your fingers are cold.”

“I knew we should’ve brought Hermione,” George commented.

“I think we should’ve brought Dumbledore,” Fred lifted his wand and packed as many things that belonged to Harry as possible.

“Him too,” George walked over to the window and signaled for Ron to come around.

Ron stepped through the window and glanced at Harry’s bruises, “Bloody hell… What’ve they done to you?”

“No time to explain. If we’re too loud, then they’ll come up.”

Fred jinxed Harry’s trunk so it would levitate, and George helped Harry up. “Careful. He’s in a fragile position,” said Ron.

“No shit,” said George as he tried to mount his broom with Harry in his arms, “Ron, get Harry’s broom.”

Ron did and also collected Hedwig’s cage. “Perhaps we should leave the door open.”

“Whichever,” Fred flew out of the window with Harry’s trunk following behind.

George managed to get a safe hold of Harry and slowly flew out of the room. Once high enough in the sky, George picked up the pace a little and held on tighter to Harry. “So, how did you get that big bruise?”

“My aunt.”

“Oh….”

Ron was soon at their side, “You’re flying too slowly.”

“Well, excuse me,” said George, “You’re not the one carrying an injured lad.”

Soon enough they reached the burrow, and one by one they descended. George was the only one who attempted to fly the broom into the kitchen. Fred held the door open as he did, and Mrs. Weasley was about ready to yell at George if she hadn’t spotted Harry. “Harry dear!” She began walking towards him with her arms open.

“He’s hurt, mum!” said Fred.

“Nasty bruise across his chest,” George commented.

Mrs. Weasley approached them and carefully took Harry. “We’re going to have to take him to the hospital.”

Just then, Hedwig flew through an open window with a bottle suspended from her leg. She landed on the table and screeched. Fred quickly came over and read the small note. “For Harry. Take two tea spoons every day for three days. Who’s this from?”

Harry looked over and reached out. Fred passed him the note. Harry was about to smile, but then looked a bit more closely at the handwriting. It wasn’t Snape’s. “Come along,” Mrs. Weasley set Harry on the couch and brought over the small potion. She poured the liquid into a tea spoon and spoon fed it to Harry before the boy could protest. She then gave him a second spoon full and then asked, “How is it?”

The potion tasted like bones if Harry could ever guess what they taste like. “I think I feel something.”

George had Harry lie back so he could inspect his ribs. The bruises were already a little fainter than they were before. “George, take Harry up to his room. The boy needs his rest if he is going to recover soon.”

Harry in fact did feel a little faint. The potion was sucking the energy out of him like some vacuum. George scooped Harry into his arms and took the boy away. As they passed the table, Harry made sure to grab that note so he could look more closely at it once he was alone.

HARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTER

Harry took a quick nap and then woke up when he heard pots and pans being thrown about. He reached for his glasses then the candle. He pulled out the note in his pocket and inspected it. The handwriting wasn’t anything like Snape’s. It was a little fancier like whoever wrote it took their time. There were a lot more loops and it seemed very feminine. “Who wrote this?”

“Harry!”

Harry quickly stuffed the note in his pocket and responded, “Yes?!”

Hermione opened the door and Ron was right behind her, “Harry, I heard what happened. Are you Ok? Does it hurt too much to move?”

“Mum will bring your food up to you if you can’t move.”

Harry was about to state that he was feeling better, but once he tried to prop himself up, his ribs reminded his of the critical state he was in. Harry winced and hissed. “I think it would be a good idea if your mum brought up the food.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back,” Ron left.

“What’s there to eat?”

“Ron’s mum cooked chicken with mash potatoes and biscuits.”

“That sounds good.”

Hermione brushed her hair behind her ears and then sat down on Harry’s bed, “What did your aunt do to you exactly?”

“She was showing Dudley how to wrestle properly.”

Hermione’s eye twitched. “I’m sorry Harry. At least you won’t have to go back there. Ron’s mum wants to keep you here since only Ron and Ginny are here to keep her company. Ron’s dad is rarely ever home.”

“So then George and Fred are only here to visit?”

“They wanted to help rescue you from the Dursley’s.”

Harry was quite for a few moments until Ron’s mum came in with a tray of food, “Now, eat up as much as you can, then get some more sleep. School starts in a few weeks, and we can’t have you going back with broken ribs.”

Everyone left the room, and Harry pulled out the note again. Snape was most likely the person who sent him the potion, but why didn’t he write the note? Harry sighed and stared at the tray of food. His stomach didn’t feel much like eating. He wanted to see Snape. He missed the man so much that nowadays he just didn’t want to do anything. Harry couldn’t wait until school started back up again. He would be able to see Snape again and question him thoroughly. “Why won’t you write back?”

A/N: Are there any guess as to who wrote the note?