The (Not-So-)Black Letters

Next chapter wont be up until next saturday (19/09/2009).

Hope you enjoy it!

Hum...english is my second language, so please point out the errors so I can correct them.


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By the time Hedwing came the next day, most of the students were looking impatiently at the Headmaster. Since Harry sent his first letter, three days ago, Dumbledore couldn’t help but notice the students had been behaving slightly impolitely to him. Whereas they used to defer to him, worshipping the Headmaster to the point of thinking him all-knowledgeable, they now looked at him with insolent, slightly questioning stares. Many fingers had been pointed at him, many times, and by people both older and wiser; yet this was the first time ever the students had been affected by the tittle-tattles and accusations; it reflected strongly on how respected the Potter boy had been, especially taking into account the boy had proclaimed himself Dark, a coward in the eyes of the public, the ultimate betrayer. He hadn’t known the brat had garnered so much support and credibility within Hogwarts, and he couldn’t quite explain how the Gryffindor boy had managed to do so. While the papers were still speculating about Harry’s true allegiances, as the recipient of the letters he had too been subjected to public scrutiny, and he had found he didn’t like it one bit.

With growing amusement, the Slytherins noticed Hedwing was not only black, but had cute little red horns and an attached red demon tail.

This time the letter started speaking before it even hit the table.

“Hi everybody!

Sorry Fumbles, this time the letter’s not for you. Hope this doesn’t crush your poor, sad spirit and drives you to suicide –well, who am I kidding? I actually do!

This letter is for a dear friend of mine and fellow backstabber, who turns seventeen today! Hello Ron!

Now, before someone starts throwing things, Ron’s not Dark. (By the way, Tom wants me to make it clear he’d never, under any circumstances, take such a stupid, redheaded menace.) He’s Light’s little spy and the one whom I should, by Dumblebees’s orders –see? I didn’t forget about you! - consider my best friend in the whole world.

By the way, Ron, I never bought your act. Don’t mean to put you down, mate, but you suck at acting. And just so you know, I did find it strange when your mother shouted thing like “muggles” and “Platform 9 ¾” at King’s Cross.

Ah, the good old times! You trying to feign you didn’t know who I was, me playing dumb... And speaking of good, old times, you remember that time Sirius broke your leg? That’s the only reason I gave him the opportunity to explain himself.

So, as the great friend I am, I’ve decided to send you a gift, despite everything you’ve put me through –and don’t think I don’t know who truly prattled to McGonagall about Herm and I taking Norbert out for a walk. Hope you like it!

‘Love’

Harry.”

As the last word rang through the air, seven severed heads appeared out of no-where over Ron’s plate. After screaming in a high-pitched way that had the whole Hall covering their ears, he pointed at the blood-stained heads, and muttered shakily before fainting:

‘Those are the Chudley Cannons!’

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R&R? Please? Chudley Cannon's-shaped-cookies for every reviewer!

By the way, I realise Ron's birthday is the first of March, while this letter is sent somewhere in october. Well, this is an obvious AU, as Harry Potter never did such a thing, so...