Chapter 7

A bridge

He just sat there. There on the swing, surrounded by shouting and laughing children, still feeling alone. It wasn't that they were bullying or simply ignoring him, quite the opposite: He was the one, who ignored them. Ofcourse, there were still bullies and meanies at this school.

No matter where you go, you will always find those kinds of children, but most of them welcomed him quite friendly. And at first he really wanted to play with them, only after awhile he fell naturally out of the circles.

It had been quite the culture shock for him. Not only were they all chatting in their thick Scottish accents, but also talking about things, that didn't matter to him – well not anymore.

Tv-shows: BORING. Teachers: BORING. Dogs: BORING. Normal, not ghost-like cats: BORING! He wanted to brag, shout out loud "I am Harry Potter and I am a wizard! I own a ghost cat! Soon I will be able to ride a broom!". But he couldn't. Linda had told him before his first day of school that he mustn't tell anyone; otherwise the wizard government had to come and erase all of the people's memories and then Linda and him would be in very big trouble.

Harry never wanted to get into trouble. It just kind of happened to him. It happened to him at the Dursley's and it happened him here in Aberdeen. When one of the girls once came over to him to ask him if he'd liked to play ball and held a bubblegum pink plastic ball out to him, he was actually pretty glad and very excited. But just before he wanted to reach for it, it exploded. Just. Like. That! The girl of course instantly started to cry and told the teachers, - afterwards Linda explained to him that he had actually done it, just not on purpose- and so he had to sit through his first detention. Since then, he tried to distance himself from the other children.

And that's why he was sitting on the swing, leaning back and forth, feeling the wind and his face, trying to pretend that he was actually flying on a broomstick instead of a wooden board.

Also he needed a lot of time to think. Linda hadn't told him the whole truth about his parents.

Yes, they were a wizard and a witch, but also, they certainly did not die in a car accident. They were murdered. Why? And by whom?

While he stayed at the Dursley's, he never really questioned the car accident story – Everything seemed simple with them (or at least that's how they wanted it to be). there were so many confusing things...werewolfs, ministries, murderers.

It had been almost three months since Linda's friends had come to visit. Three months which had passed really slowly. The question burned on his tongue. Every hour, every minute and second of the day: Who took my parents away from me? Who murdered them?

Unfortunately, Dana and Cassie had kept quiet for the rest of their stay and he himself was to afraid of asking them. Sometimes, when Linda was still working on her translations in the kitchen in the evening, he just laid there on his bed with Minnie on his pillow beside him and imagined how his parent's murderer looked like. What had been his hair colour? Was blond more evil than black? Did he have a moustache? Some criminals in comics and tv-shows had one. Or was his whole face and body covered in scars and burns, like someone's out of a horror movie?

And other times he looked at all the people on the streets, thinking one of them could it be. One of them could have murdered his parents. One of them was the murderer. Was it a muggle or a wizard? Man or woman?

The school bell rang. Harry took another swing and then pushed himself off the seat. For a little while he got the feeling of flying - the soft summer breeze ruffling through his hair - , but as soon as this feeling reached him, it left as his feet touched the ground.

Harry sat at the kitchentable and had busied himself with with his homework. Well, actually he just doodled on the pages of his exercise book, but to Linda it looked like he was solving highly complex equations. She stood infront of the sink scrubbing plates and pots, while humming a tune Harry never had heard before.

It was a normal Friday afternoon. School ended early, Linda only worked 'till one o'clock and Minnie had floated into one of the kitchen cupboards to sleep on the plates.

He was -more or less- doing his homework before dinner, and after dinner they would huddle infront of the television to watch cartoons until it would be bedtime. It felt wrong to Harry; to pretend everything was okay, that nothing bothered him. He was sick of it it. He wanted to know the answers to his questions so badly, waiting wasn't an option anymore. But just as he wanted to open his mouth, already forming the words, they died in his throat.

Something troubled Harry, Linda knew. But what seemed to be a mystery to her. He had become more quiet and closed since a couple of weeks ago and it didn't seem to wear off.

Was he having trouble in school?

Maybe it was because of his upcoming birthday, after all it would be his first away from the Dursleys. That might be likely.

Deep in thoughts she scrubbed the plate, not caring that her sponge got small rips as she went over the small crack at the brim.

Did Harry want a party? A party would be nice...Maybe she should go with him to her parent's. When the came over for her birthday, Harry seemed to like them quite well. And her mother had been smitten with him. She almost fattened him, muttering about how he was "way too thin" and "needed this to grow properly intoa fine young man". As if Mrs. Hawthorn didn't have enough grandchildren already, she accepted him. Mr. Hawthorn had nearly burstwith pridewhen Linda had told him about Harry's circumstances privately – ofcourse, she neglected the whole "serial killer wizard"business. His exacts word were, "My little Linny, all grown up and responsible...". Linda almost thought he would start crying. Her father always had been like that. Really emotional – weeping easily.

If she thought further...she didn't even have an idea what to buy him as a birthday present. Maybe something that was related to Quidditch. Another book or toy. Harry had already finished 'Quidditch through the Ages', but was reading in it constantly. Reading in general didn't seem that appealing to him, but as soon as the word Quidditch leaves her mouth, he even would read articles of the daily prophet. He had cut out some pictures of players and teams and stuck it at the wall over his bed. It was now plastered with hundreds of men and women on brooms flying loops or parades.

Quidditch stuff seemed to be a good idea. A trip to Diagon Alley was overdue anyways. She wanted to buy some new books only a small book shop behind "Eylops Owl Emporium" had to offer and it had been a long timesince she had visited 'Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour'. Surely Harry would love his ice cream as much as she enjoyed their fabulous cakes and tortes.

"Harry...what about a nice trip to London this weekend? I need to turn in some notes for Mr. MacDonald." She had turned around to look at him bent over his homework. "We could walk a bit around Diagon Alley and visit an ice cream parlour?!"

Harry raised his head and smiled. "Cool."

She returned his smile and turned back to the plates.

I know it's a short one...but hey^^ I did not abondon this story!

And biggest thanks to my beta Extended Experience