The Serpent's Blossom: Hello Sunshine

Harry Potter opened his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes trailing over the cracks in the plaster and other little imperfections. This had become a habit of his in the days since his arrival back at the Dursley home for the last summer. Thoughts of the war, of Voldemort, of Dumbledore, all slipped in and out of his consciousness, never staying long. He knew he was in a kind of shock. Everything had happened so fast and now that nothing was going on, he had time to recover.

Harry spent most of his day in his room, thinking or reading. Reading mostly, because thinking was almost painful. He read from his own spell books and those Hermione had sent him. She had the easiest access to books, even being a muggle born. Or, perhaps, it was her status as a muggle born that gave her the ability to filter news to her parents, who in turn did not realize the danger of letting their daughter wander through Diagon Alley. He had tried to tell her to be careful, but Hermione was stubborn and would now be cowed into becoming a hermit. So, she sent him any books she found that might be of help to him, on the promise that Harry would pay her back for them later. He had insisted on that.

Ron was more or less homebound. He and Ginny hadn't been allowed to leave since arriving. The other Weasley children all had places of their own and their mother had been unable to convince them home. Most of the red haired bunch sent him letters nearly every day. He wondered if they were trying to keep his mind off things and almost smiled at the useless act.

Harry got up and headed downstairs late afternoon. The Dursleys left him alone for the most part. They were too happy at his impending exit from their lives to bother much in giving him hell. He didn't join them for meals, nor was he out of his room enough to join in other family activities. Dudley was gone a lot for summer school and Vernon stayed at work until late evening. He had been promoted to the delight of his wife and held himself with more pompous poise than he ever had before. Petunia fussed over him anytime he was home, waiting on him and cooking his favorite dinners. Harry thought the whole thing was revolting.

His aunt was the only one Harry dealt with much, and she was just as happy as he to ignore one another. She took stock of what he ate and to some small extend when he left the house, but had little more influence. Likewise, Harry didn't speak to her and was as scarce as possible. It was a comfortable arrangement for them. Sometimes, Harry thought that his childhood might have been happier if he had been only confined to Petunia's care. She didn't like him but she'd rather ignore him than antagonize him.

Outside, it was too hot and too moist, but still held some little enjoyment for Harry. He sat down on the front step, resting his elbows on his knees. The sky was bright and pure blue without a hint of clouds, but was slowly growing a more gold color as dusk come near.. The slight wind offered a little, periodic respite from the heat and tossed his hair around. The smell of a baking pie came from one of the neighbors, as well as a loudly barking dog in the distance. It was all so normal, so casual, so-

The sound of shoes crunching loose gravel and fallen sticks. Harry looked up and watched as a girl walked down the sidewalk. There was a piece of crumpled paper in her hand that she glanced at every few moments before looking at this house or the other. Young as she looked, Harry wondered if she had accidentally wandered in the neighborhood looking for somewhere else. She definitely wasn't dressed like the denizens for Privet Drive. A tight, dark red tank top didn't quite reach her pant line, showing off a stretch of mid drift. The pants themselves were baggy enough for two people of her size with various belts hanging off of it any more pockets than necessary for any sane person. They were held up by a tight belt around her narrow hips. On her arms, she wore what looked like striped socks with the ends cut off. Boots just barely poked out of her pants as she walked, immediately disappearing a moment later. All in all, she seemed suitably ridiculous.

Harry continued to watch her, as there was nothing else to do, and was mildly surprised when she stopped in front of Number Four. She glanced at the house, then to her sheet of paper, before nodding a little and heading toward him. Harry got up, brushing dirt off his pants and gave her another look over. Closer up, he saw the unhealthy paler of her skin, the dark skin around her eyes, and the sickly thinness of her entire body. There were so few curves that he wouldn't have been surprised if she were mistaken for a boy sometimes. She looked malnourished and ill in a way that had to have lasted for a large chunk of her life, and it really bothered him to look at her.

"This is Number Four Privet Drive?" she asked, pausing a few feet away from him with the piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. He looked at her face and nearly jerked back at the blood red color of her eyes, peeking out from her short, messy black hair. They were too large and dull looking, not bright and healthy as they should have been for someone her age.

"Yes," he answered and felt his hand itch towards his wand, stick in his back pocket and half hidden by his shirt. She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing.

"Then you're Harry Potter?" There was a slight accent to her voice, filtering through the normal English one. Harry's hand slowly slid up the back of his shirt to curl around his wand handle.

"Who are you?" he asked, noting that she hadn't moved to grab a wand… if she had one.

"Nova Regan," she answered, looking down at the paper in her hand. She smoothed out as many wrinkles as she could. "Glad I finally found the place. This city is so confusing…"

When he didn't answer, she glanced up again. She stared back at him for a few moments before frowning darkly.

"I'm not going to attack you," she said, folding her arms with irritation.

"Why are you here?" He hadn't let go of his wand handle.

"I got a letter." She held it up, waving it once in his direction almost dismissively. "He told me to come here and help you."

"Who?"

Her expression saddened as she looked away. "Albus Dumbledore."

At once, Harry's wand was trained at her head. She sighed, shaking her head a little, and gave him a bored look.

"If you think I can stand to waste energy on killing you, go ahead," she hissed. Harry narrowed his eyes, a curse ready to fly in his lips, waiting for a reason.

"Pardon me if I'm not pacified," Harry growled back. The two stared each other down, neither daring to break it first. Nova still hadn't even twitched towards the wand Harry was now sure she had.

"How can you help me?" he asked, wand not quivering even an inch away from its target.

"I don't have a clue," she responded haughtily. "It's not like I've even graduated yet. I don't have any special abilities and I don't have some tragic past the make me burn for justice in the world. All I know is that he told me to come here and I owe him."

Harry regarded her silently for a while longer, taking in her sarcastic speech. Slowly, he dropped the wand, but didn't put it away. Nova let out a quiet breath.

"Thank you," she muttered.

"We can't talk here," Harry told her, glancing sideways back into the house. "Follow me."

The park was quiet at that time of day. It was near enough to dusk that the kids were back home and the older ones had other places to be. It was quiet and calming, and Harry went there often to enjoy just that. Nova trailed behind him quietly, rubbing her arms as the temperature slowly began to drop with coming night. Even the hottest days ended up with cold evenings.

"So Dumbledore sent a student witch to help me destroy the most evil wizard of our time?" He stopped and looked back at her, hands in his pockets. "Forgive me if I'm confused."

"You aren't the only one," Nova shot back testily. "I'm a singer, not some freedom fighter."

She pulled out the letter and handed it over, glaring as if it were his fault she was there at all. Harry took it slowly, looking over the words. They did look like Dumbledore's distinct lettering and Harry felt himself wanting to believe it. Indeed, all it said was that Nova was to find him and help him defeat Voldemort, then his address.

"That's odd," Harry murmured to himself. "Dumbledore would never risk giving out my address."

"He knows that only three people in the world can read that."

Harry glanced at her, confused, then looked back down at the page. Concentrating, he centered on the address, staring with rapt attention. Slowly under his gaze the characters shifted into a letter system he couldn't hope to comprehend, but did on some instinctive level. How…

"Parseltongue. This is written in parseltongue."

"I knew you were smart under that big, dumb exterior."

He glared at her but paused, realizing. "You can read this."

She looked away. Harry grabbed her arm, wrenching her closer to face him.

"You can read this!" he insisted.

"Yes I can bloody well read it!" Nova hissed back. "Now let go! You're bruising me!"

He released her and watched as she rubbed the reddened skin. Indeed, it seemed she was even more fragile than he thought…But another parseltongue? That was simply too rare to be coincidence. After all, there had been only two known ones this century. Could Nova really….But Dumbledore trusted her, if he wrote the letter. How could he trust her?"

"Can we go inside?" He glanced at her, watching her shiver in the cooling night air. He couldn't feel it himself, but considering just how thin she was…

"The Dursleys won't let you stay."

"Ten sickles says they do." The sureness of her voice made him pause. Harry wasn't one to gamble, but…He DID know more about the muggle family than she did.

"Fine. Let's go."

Back to the house they went, side by side. They stole looks at one another along the way, both trying to size the other up. They noted the wariness in each other and felt a little better about the entire situation.

"Where do you go to school?" Harry asked on the way. "Not Hogwarts."

"Durmstrang. It's very cold there." She gave him a sideways glance. "Too bad I'm not older than you. I could have watched the Tournament then."

"I guess."

They came to the house and Harry opened the door. He was going to try and explain the situation to his aunt and uncle before bringing Nova in, but Vernon met him at the door.

"Where have you been?" the large man demanded. He glanced over Harry's shoulder and scowled even deeper. "Who the bloody hell is that?"

"Her name is Nova," Harry said quickly. "She's a friend-"

"From that ruddy school of yours?"

"No, from-"

"She's one of them, isn't she?"

"Yes, but-"

"Get away from my family!"

Nova blinked at the pure violence in the older man's expression. Harry kept himself between the two, hoping that the situation didn't get too out of hand.

"Uncle Vernon, she's not going to hurt anyone!"

"That's all bloody well and good for you to say, boy-"

Vernon suddenly stopped and went pale. A thin, nearly weightless arm settled on Harry's shoulder, using it as a stand as Nova held out her wand at Vernon. It was surprisingly pale for her disposition, nearly white wood in a slender, feminine cut, and oddly long.

"Calm down, sir, or I shall make you do it myself," Nova said in a calm, clear voice. Vernon stumbled backwards.

"I-I'll not have…I'll not have more of you freaks in my house!"

"After my birthday, you won't have to deal with us at all," Harry growled back. Vernon seemed to calculate the days left in his head, eyes riveted on Nova's wand. He knew he could bully Harry, but this girl he knew nothing about. She could have been a serial killer. Harry seemed to attract that type.

"Stay away from my family," he said finally, narrowing his eyes. "You'll stay up there in his room, girl. If you leave it, I'll call the police."

"Great help they'll be," Nova shot back, but dropped her wand back into her pocket. Vernon drew himself up after the disappearance and glared at them both. Wisely, Harry said nothing as he grabbed Nova's arm and dragged her upstairs. The door was safely closed before Nova growled out, "Bloody idiot."

"I could have told you that," Harry replied, sitting down on his bed.

"And you owe me ten sickles."