Discovering Fan Fiction

Disclaimer: Not mine. It's all JK's, except misc. stuff I found on fanfiction.net. I only took the basic ideas, no one hurt me!

It was two weeks into the summer holiday. Harry Potter woke one morning to the traumatized screeches of his Aunt Petunia. He knew it must be about him, or his "abnormalities," because the screams were never this long or –here he stuck his finger in his ear—loud over their everyday problems.

"BOY!" Oh no. It must be worse than he'd thought. That was Uncle Vernon.

Gathering every ounce of willpower that he had, Harry forced himself out of bed. Realizing that he'd be in worse trouble for having them wait, he went downstairs still in his pajamas.

"This"—Uncle Vernon shouted by means of greeting as he brandished a perfectly normal envelope towards his nephew—"This arrived for you. In the mail."

Harry took the envelope with some misgivings, as it wasn't parchment and hadn't arrived via owl, and that was the only type of communication he normally received. Looking at the return address, he felt himself release a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as he saw that the letter was from one of his best friends, Hermione Granger. Ignoring his uncle's furious glaring, he took the letter and went back upstairs to read it.

"Dear Harry,

I do hope that you're doing all right, and that the Muggles are treating you well. I know that the last year was a bit…. horrible, and the Muggles can't be making it any easier for you, so I was wondering if you'd like to spend the rest of it here, at my house. I've already asked Ron to stay; he's arriving on Tuesday. His parents also thought it was such a good idea, they asked if Ginny, Fred, and George could stay, too. My dad weren't very pleased with all of the boys coming, but my mum convinced him that we'd behave. So, they are all coming, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are having a well-deserved vacation.

My mum and dad are sending another letter for the Muggles, to ask them properly. Even if they say no, the Weasleys have said that they'll come to get you anyway; you can't be having a good summer there! Your ride will arrive at one o'clock on Tuesday, this coming. I hope that will work for you. My dad will pick you up, if the Muggles give permission. He's coming back from a business trip near there, anyway, so don't worry about being an inconvenience. If they say no, however, Mr. Weasley will come via portkey to get you. If that is the case, be in your room with all of your school things at one thirty on Tuesday. We're getting you out of that house, Harry! I only hope you'll want to come. We can teach Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny all about being a Muggle! My house may be a bit different than what you're used to, but I'm sure you'll be acclimated shortly. We also just got a new computer! I do hope that we can all use it and go on the Internet.

Anyway, I'd best return to my studies. I've only finished half of my homework!

Love from,

Hermione"

'Hermione, I could kiss you!' was all that entered Harry's mind.

"BOY!"

'Not again…'

Going downstairs again, Harry passed Dudley. Or, rather, pressed into the wall to avoid being crushed by the unbelievable bulk that was now Dudley. Last year's diet hadn't worked, and this year's was off to a horrible start; amazingly, Dudley had grown another size in the last nine months.

"You must have done something really wrong this time!" Dudley smiled his horrible smile.

Despite the wretched smell coming from his cousin, Harry smiled at the thought of escaping this all.

"BOY!"

"Right, right, I'm coming!" Harry muttered under his breath.

When he returned downstairs, Uncle Vernon was brandishing another letter.

"You. Want. To. Try. THIS. Again!?" Each word was heavily emphasized. "Do. You. Have. Any. IDEA. How. Long. It. Took. To. Get. Dudley's. TONGUE. Back? And my living room?"

'Well done, you managed to string a full sentence together that last try,' was what Harry wanted dearly to say, but what came out was, "Hermione's dad will pick me up. He drives a car." At the look still on his uncle's red face, he added, "He's a dentist."

"A dentist. You want me to believe that one of….YOUR KIND….is a DENTIST?"
"He's not one of….my kind, Uncle Vernon. He's just a normal dentist."

Some of the red receded from his uncle's face, but only enough to make out that he did, after all, have a mouth.

"Well. Then. And you," he spat out you as though it was a vulgar word, "won't be coming back here until June?"

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"He'll come in a car?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"The NORMAL way?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Tuesday."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"THIS Tuesday?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." This was getting monotonous.

"There was only one stamp on the envelope."

Here, Harry figured it might be wiser not to say anything, as his uncle showed signs of thinking. It was always obvious when Uncle Vernon was thinking, because his face screwed up in a way that indicated his deep thought. Normally, he wore an expression of cruel stupidity, a la Crabbe and Goyle.

"You'll get no help from us packing your….your, school things."

"So I can go?" 'Try not to sound too hopeful, try not to sound too hopeful.'

"Yes, you can ruddy well go. Now cut the lawn!"

~*~

Tuesday

Still not able to believe his luck, a second year in a row, Harry looked around his room to be certain that he had not left anything behind. It was twelve fifty-eight, and if Mr. Granger was anything like his daughter, he'd be there in exactly two minutes. One minute fifty-seven. One minute fifty-five.

That wasn't accomplishing anything.

Checking out his window one last time, Harry scanned the skies for Hedwig. He'd sent Sirius an owl two days ago, when he'd found out he could go, and she hadn't returned yet.

Crossing his room in three quick strides, Harry picked up Hedwig's empty cage and was about to leave when he heard a familiar tap-tap-tappity-tap on the window. Smiling broadly, he opened the window to let in his owl. She seemed pleased with herself and also angered that he'd been about to leave without her. She gave him a nip somewhat harder than normal, but still affectionate. Smiling to himself, Harry locked Hedwig in her cage and picked it up again.

At twelve fifty-nine and thirty four seconds, Harry was downstairs checking over his school things one last time.

In the mirror in front of him, Harry saw Dudley's face reflected from around the corner of the kitchen wall in what he clearly thought was a half-hidden way. Given the size of Dudley's head, the mere thought was laughable. This was more than the thought. Harry doubled over in silent laughter at the bulbous head that looked clueless and frightened at the same time.

One o'clock p.m. brought with it the sound of a car pulling into number 4, Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, who had been in the kitchen reading the newspaper upside-down, had also apparently heard the car. Straightening his tie, which Harry noticed was the same one he'd worn the year before when Mr. Weasley had come to get him, he rounded on the door at exactly the same moment that the doorbell rang.

This was the one time that Harry could ever remember not having been yelled at to open the door. The irony struck him that the one time he didn't have to open the door, it was for him.

As the door was yanked open, Harry could hear Uncle Vernon grunting a greeting to Mr. Granger. Straightening, he could now see his uncle shaking hands and leaning over the smaller man to see what type of car he drove. Seemingly satisfied, he invited the man in and pointed to Harry.

As his uncle stepped aside, Harry was granted his first clear look at Mr. Granger. He was about a head shorter than Uncle Vernon and about as thin as Aunt Petunia. He wore a tweed suit with a matching hat clutched tightly in his right hand, his overcoat over the same arm. His left hand covered the hat, the fingers drumming the brim. His hair was neatly combed with a part almost as straight as Mr. Crouch's had been. Around one of the fingers on his left hand was his key ring. Harry could see at once why his uncle had seemed pleased with him; the key ring had a BMW trademark on it. His uncle was notorious for judging other men on the cars they drove.

"Very nice place, Mr. Dursley. I quite like that figurine over there. My wife collects those too. Ah, Harry m'boy, are you ready then? Wonderful! Why don't I help you with that trunk? Mr. Dursley, why don't you help Harry with that satchel there? Lovely!" Mr. Granger's voice was surprisingly deep for such a small man, and he spoke with the authority that many of the professors at Hogwarts possessed.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw Uncle Vernon obligingly pick up the bag. When he caught his nephew's eye, Vernon clearly relayed the message to never, NEVER expect this EVER again. Harry smiled to himself and picked up Hedwig's cage.

Once in the car, Mr. Granger leaned conspiratorially over to Harry.

"'Mione told me what your family was like. I see that she didn't exaggerate. But then, she doesn't that often, does she?" He had a hearty laugh.

"No, sir, she doesn't," Harry replied, finally realizing who this 'Mione was.

"Well, Harry, I do extend my condolences over being related to that. When she told me about your, er, escapades last year in getting away, I decided to borrow my boss' car." He guffawed here, then whispered, "We drive a station wagon."

Harry felt himself relaxing, and enjoyed Mr. Granger's anecdotes about Hermione as a young child.

"Before we knew that 'Mione was a, a witch –sorry, that's still strange to say—we always wondered at what she could do. Why once, she couldn't have been six, she was so excited to be reading at night, that she somehow kept pulling the book from my hands while she was tucked tight in bed. I had to continually walk back, get the book, and try to leave. Finally, after about ten minutes, maybe more, she got the book, the lights flared on, and I found myself outside of her closed and locked door."

After an hour had passed, Mr. Granger told Harry that they lived only another fifteen minutes away. He then gave Harry a stern look and cleared his throat the way Uncle Vernon did whenever he had anything important to say.

"Now, Harry, you seem a respectable boy. 'Mione told us that much, and I've ascertained that for myself as well. I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you, as a father, that I was not, let's say, happy when 'Mione asked us to have two boys over for the summer. When it turned into four, I was less than ecstatic. I just want to be sure that you'll respect all boundaries I set as far as my daughter is concerned. I know about the whole Rita Scooter fiasco last year, and…what?"

"Skeeter. Rita Skeeter." Harry could not help laughing.

"Yes, Skeeter, of course. So, I know that you and my 'Mione are only friends. I'd like to see nothing more than a friendly interest in my daughter. My only daughter. My pride and joy. Harry, do you see where I'm going with this?"

Harry managed to collect himself enough to say, "Yes, sir."

"Smashing. Ah, and perfect timing!"

Just then, they rounded a bend and Harry caught his first look at Hermione's house. It was a three story Victorian house, classic and just as the smartest student of the year's house should be. The immense lawn would easily have fit two of the Dursley's house inside of it, maybe three.

Getting out of the car, he was immediately pelted in the head with a rock. No, not a rock…

"Pig!" The tiny owl hooted contentedly in Harry's hand. "That must mean Ron's here…"

"Harry!" Five voices cried out in unison.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George came running, or in the twins' case, skipping, up the lawn to see him. A fierce, confused hug ensued, with Fred and George yelling out "Dog pile!" and jumping on top of the heap.

"'Mione…call your mother," came a strangled voice from underneath a trunk, a bag, and an owl cage.

"Daddy! Goodness, George, Fred, help him!" Hermione yelled out as she went towards the house to fetch her mother.

The twins duly marched up to Mr. Granger and each grabbed an end of the trunk and yanked. That would have been a kind gesture, but the fact that it had been supporting the bag and cage nullified that. Hedwig's cage crashed to the ground and flung open. A hoot and a heap of feathers later, she was gone into the nearest tree. Fred and George grinned sheepishly, heaved the trunk higher, and marched off towards the house.

Mr. Granger smiled and picked up the bag and now-empty cage.

"Harry, welcome to Chez Granger," Ron said, putting on a horrible French accent and attempting to bow as only a concierge can, and failing miserably, falling on his face.

Ginny giggled and Harry noticed her for the first time. She had grown over the summer, he realized with a start. She was now eye level with him, and seemed to have lost the air of youth. Well, of being so much younger anyway.

Harry reached out his hand and pulled Ron to his feet. Ginny giggled more and announced a race to the house. She and Ron took off instantaneously, and Harry began to run a moment later.

Though she had grown considerably, Ginny still lost badly to the boys. Ron was doubled over panting when Harry reached the door barely winded, and it took the youngest Weasley another twenty seconds to get to them. Ron ruffled her hair as they entered the house.

A/N: First chapter. Sniff My first chaptered story. How nice, right?

The inspiration hit me for this spontaneously, so I don't have any idea at all when the next installation will be. Anyhoo, don't let the title and this segment fool you, really, that will happen. Promise.

(-:

Thanks to my loyal reviewers:

(Notice no names are listed here. I need reviews. Please….)