Doubts and Distrust

July 10th, 1995 – Little Whinging, Surrey

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

A little over two weeks after his encounter with the newly resurrected Voldemort, Harry Potter lay on his bed in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Dr., bouncing a tennis ball off the nearest wall.

The Dursleys were away for the evening, or he would not have risked making such a noise.

Since his return to Privet Drive one week ago, Harry had been growing increasingly frustrated and bored. It was now clear to him that Voldemort had established his death as an immediate goal, and here he was, stuck in the muggle world and unable to prepare himself for his next encounter with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry had no doubt that there would be a next time. He felt like a hunted animal, and it was clear to him that he was now in a fight for his life. He had done some serious thinking since the fight in the graveyard, and he realized it that it was time for him to start taking his well-being more seriously.

That was why Harry's current frustration threatened to erupt into rage. He simply couldn't understand why Dumbledore insisted that he return to the Dursleys. Harry knew that he was protected by some sort of blood protections here, but surely whatever protection he was afforded was canceled out by the fact that he couldn't practice magic for over two months.

Dumbledore had placidly told him that "that there would be time enough for fighting," and to enjoy his summer as much as he could. It was utter rot, and Harry knew it.

The situation was not helped by the fact that he had no new books to read and no contact with his friends. Dumbledore had refused to allow him to take advanced defense books from the library, citing Madam Pince's policies, and Ron and Hermione were currently incommunicado.

Hermione, he knew, was on vacation in France for most of the summer, but Ron's seeming lack of concern for his situation was beginning to grate on his nerves. Three days ago he had written Ron an urgent letter asking for news about Voldemort, defense books, his vault key, and another early rescue from Privet Drive, but so far Ron had yet to reply.

He and Ron had tried to repair their relationship after Ron's post-First Task apology, but they had not regained the closeness of their previous years. Harry still felt a little betrayed by Ron's quickness to condemn him, and he suspected that Ron's apology had come on the heels of a heated argument with Hermione. Whatever the case, it was starting to look like he just couldn't rely on Ron when he really needed him.

Sighing in frustration, Harry tossed the old tennis ball into his closet and stood to pace around his room. He knew he needed to be practicing new magic and learning how to defend himself properly, but he felt hemmed in by Dumbledore's restrictions. If Ron didn't come through for him, he wasn't sure who could help him. He wasn't very close to Neville, and the other members of Gryffindor, even the quidditch team, were more like close acquaintances than friends.

Harry's brooding was interrupted by a sudden barking sound and the arrival of Hedwig at his window. She had an issue of The Daily Prophet grasped in her talons. He had subscribed to the paper in an effort to stay up to date on news about Voldemort, and anxiously awaited each issue in hopes that everyone would finally acknowledge the madman's return.

"Hello, girl," Harry said softly, affectionately stroking his familiar's brilliantly white feathers. "Have a safe flight?"

Hedwig cooed and rubbed her head against Harry's hands. He knew that he could have the paper delivered by the Prophet's own army of owls, but he wanted to give Hedwig a chance to feel useful. She didn't get to fly enough when she was cooped up in Little Whinging during the summers.

Harry opened up The Daily Prophet eagerly, but groaned when he saw the headline. The paper had been taking subtle digs at him for the past two weeks, each edition growing bolder in its condemnations. Now it looked as though Rita Skeeter had joined the pile-on, even though Hermione was supposedly blackmailing her:

Harry Potter's Secret Obsession

By Rita Skeeter

The events of the recent Tri-Wizard Tournament continue to be on the lips of wizards and witches everywhere. Your intrepid reporter has dedicated herself to unearthing the facts behind the shocking and tragic death of Hufflepuff champion Cedric Diggory and the controversial "victory" of Harry Potter.

Prepare yourselves dear readers, for our illustrious Boy-Who-Lived may not be the young hero we thought him to be. The Daily Prophet has discovered that Harry Potter has developed such a thirst for fame that it governs his every action. Says classmate and confidant Blaise Zabini, "Potter is always strutting through the halls like a king. The professors let him get away with anything he wants because he's a celebrity." Indeed, Mr. Potter was allowed to compete in the illustrious Tri-Wizard Tournament even after he found a way to enter himself illegally. Why have Mr. Potter's professors done nothing to curb his desperate need for attention?

As is well-known by now, Mr. Potter returned from the final task of the tournament clinging to the body of the true Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory. When asked to explain Mr. Diggory's death, Potter concocted the ludicrous excuse that You-Know-Who had come back to life and murdered him. This is such an obvious lie that one wonders why Mr. Potter is not in Ministry custody.

Rumors abound that Supreme Mugwump and Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore exerted all of his considerable influence to keep Mr. Potter out of Azkaban. One can only wonder if galleons exchanged hands.

The Ministry owes it to the wizarding public to discover the truth about the death of Cedric Diggory. What is Harry Potter hiding?

"Damn it!" Harry yelled at the empty room, tossing the paper into the corner. The Prophet had progressed from petty insults to outright character assassination, and Harry felt helpless to combat it. It was clear to him that Fudge was behind the plot to smear his name, and Dumbledore wasn't lifting a finger to stop the man.

Harry's opinion of Fudge had plummeted when the incompetent Minister had refused to even entertain the possibility that Voldemort had returned.

"It can't be, it can't be," Harry mimicked sarcastically, causing Hedwig to look at him in concern. Her human had taken to talking to himself more often lately, and even she knew that this was not healthy behavior.