Allies and Acquisitions
Harry had also discovered, to his great amusement, that Dobby could filch books from Hogwarts library, including the restricted section, without being detected. Since Dobby had no formal bond with the school, just a financial relationship, he felt no guilt whatsoever about using its resources to serve his Harry Potter Sir. Harry had grinned maliciously at the thought of the insufferably rigid Madam Pince catching a house elf nicking her books.
The only problem with Harry acquiring every defense book in the library was that Dobby couldn't read. He knew and recognized letters, but titles of books were too much for him.
So Harry had spent a few hours of the past five days teaching Dobby how to read basic words and recognize important ones like "defense," "dark arts," "charms," and "dueling." Dobby would then bring Harry a few books at a time on the subjects that he desperately needed to know. He had already acquired a dozen books on various subjects, but didn't want to go overboard lest the disappearance of too many books raise the ire of Madam Pince and Dumbledore.
Unfortunately, Dobby could do very little to help him with his primary problem: being able to perform magic for the summer. House elves were not able to remove charms from wands or perform warding magic. Really, Harry discovered, they could only perform magic that involved manipulating air in various ways.
Aside from their unique form of "popping," most house elves were only capable of weak banishing and levitation charms. They could defend their masters in desperate situations, but were unable to perform general offensive magic against wizards.
Without a master's magic to feed it, a house elf's magic would slowly dissipate and eventually die out altogether. This explained in part why house elves exhibited such slavish behavior toward wizards; their continued existence literally depended on their bonds with their masters.
So much for SPEW, Harry had smirked.
He found this new information fascinating, and couldn't wait to tell Hermione, although he couldn't quite predict what her reaction would be. She was the most headstrong girl Harry had ever met, and sometimes her crusades against injustice refused to be tempered with logic; would she accept Dobby's explanation and give up on her mission to free the elves, or would she just dig in her heels?
All in all Harry felt much better about his summer confinement now than he had five days ago. He was able to take copious notes on spells and techniques that might one day save his life, even if he couldn't practice them at the moment. It felt good to actively pursue his goals.
Dobby's ability to feed Harry had even made it possible for him to exercise every day. Pushups and situps didn't count for much, but any little thing might make the difference between life and death. He had even begun a daily running regimen through the streets of his neighborhood. He didn't particularly enjoy running, as he associated it with running for his life from Dudders and his gang, but Harry knew he needed every advantage he could get.
For the past two hours Harry had been taking notes from a book entitled Jinxing the Jinxer: A Guide to Underhanded Dueling Techniques. There was an asphyxiation hex in that book that he would love to try out on Malfoy the next time he uttered the world "mudblood." He didn't understand the arithmancy that accompanied the descriptions of most of the spells, but he did understand the wand movements and incantations. He just needed a way to practice.
Yawning, Harry noticed that the sun was starting to set, so he decided to take a break from reading and get in his daily run.
After donning a huge pair of old gym shorts and lacing up his ratty trainers, Harry exited 4 Privet Drive and began jogging his usual route toward the park. He knew he couldn't perform magic, but he never went anywhere without his wand. It was tied around his forearm with an old, frayed shoelace. Harry was sure he looked ridiculous to passersby, but found he just didn't care. Let them think it's my lucky drumstick, he smirked mentally. They already think I'm a deranged criminal.
As his muscles loosened up and the blood began to flow into his legs, his thoughts traveled to his best friends.
He had not sent a letter to Hermione yet since he assumed she was unreachable, but his letter to Ron had still yet to be answered. The fact that Ron hadn't bothered to respond in over a week bothered Harry immensely. In the past Harry had thought that Ron would stand with him against whatever nastiness came his way. Hadn't he accompanied him in their attempt to protect the stone? Hadn't he and the twins rescued him before second year? Hadn't Harry saved his sister's life? With every passing day Harry grew more irritated with Ron's lack of communication.
As he approached the end of his run, Harry realized he was nearly in a dead sprint. His adrenalin was pumping, encouraged by his resentful state of mind. Checking his digital watch, which he had nicked from the junk pile in Dudley's room, he was shocked to find that he had just completed his usual two miles in 13 minutes. I'm starting to get fit, he thought triumphantly. Time to start going for longer runs.
Harry's buoyant mood continued as he bounded the stairs and entered his room. He marched over to the calendar on his wall and made another large X through the previous day. It was now July 16th. I have less than two months left to train, Harry thought. I have got to get out of this place and go somewhere that I can use my magic. Maybe I can convince Dumbledore to get me out of here before my birthday.
As if in answer to Harry's thoughts, an owl pecked exhaustedly on Harry's window, and he recognized it as Errol, the Weasley family owl. The ancient owl had both a letter and a small package attached to its leg, and it looked to be on the verge of passing out.
"Finally," Harry sighed.
Removing the owl of its burdens and sending it to Hedwig's perch to rest, Harry opened the letter eagerly. Its contents made Harry's brow furrow.
Harry,
Got your letter, mate, but I'm not allowed to say anything about You-Know-What. Dumbledore says we shouldn't owl each other this summer. Everyone knows your owl and she could be intercepted. Mum says Dumbledore has your vault key, and he doesn't know when you'll be able to leave the muggles yet. Sorry, but we didn't have any books to send. Mum sends her love and says to make sure you're eating enough. She's sending some homemade cauldron cakes with Errol. I'll owl again as soon as Dumbledore gives the okay.
Ron
"What a load of bollocks," Harry growled, balling up the letter in his fists. He had waited over a week for that? He missed his close friendship with Ron, but this new missive had merely increased his impatience with the redheaded boy. Why was Ron listening to Dumbledore's advice at all? And why would Dumbledore have his vault key? Harry wanted to invest in some advanced defense books when he next visited Diagon Alley, but he didn't even know how much money his parents had left him.
Harry knew that he owed Dumbledore an awful lot, particularly for protecting him from the crazed betrayer of his parents, Sirius Black, during third year. But he was getting increasingly resentful of just how omnipresent Dumbledore was in his life. Everything always comes back to Dumbledore, he thought spitefully. He makes all the important decisions in my life. Why?
Harry was starting to feel like a dog on a very short leash.
He absentmindedly picked up one of the cauldron cakes that Mrs. Weasley had sent along with Ron's letter. Despite being well fed by Dobby, he would never pass up an opportunity to eat her spectacular homemade cooking.
Munching on it as he stripped down for his shower, Harry's thoughts turned to the youngest member of the Weasley family. Ginny had talked to him a few times during the last school year, and now she could look in his general direction without blushing madly.
Her shyness really is adorable, Harry thought distractedly. And her long, red hair is quite fetching, now that I think on it…I'll have to get to know Ginny better this year.