Bare // Letters from Dumbledore
Title: Letters from Dumbledore
Author: Sarah
Rating: PG
Words: 1,963
Characters: Peter, Jason
Summary: Peter's strange mail habits inspire Jason to share a childhood story about himself.
Spoilers: There are references to the first 5 Harry Potter books, but nothing huge. You're fine if you've just seen the movies though.
Notes: I've been on a recent Harry Potter kick and watching the 4th and 5th movie last week or so inspired this. ALSO, I set this during their freshmen year, so it would make sense that not all of the books were out yet (there were only 5 when I was a freshman).
Disclaimer: I don't own Bare or Harry Potter.
Peter’s habits were clockwork. He woke every morning at 6:35 and sat up slowly to turn off his alarm before sitting quietly, his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed in a silent prayer. Jason would watch from his bed, still pretending to be asleep. Jason’s alarm went off at 6:40, at which time Peter hopped out of his little trance to change from his pajama pants and old t-shirt into the St. Cecilia’s uniform.
Peter’s bedtime routine was always the same too. After he finished studying or doing his homework, he would select one of the five Harry Potter books sitting on his shelf. They were in order, from The Sorcerer’s Stone through The Order of the Phoenix. It was clear that he had previously read the books multiple times, but each night he’d select one and read a chapter. There was no order to it. Jason would observe him as he pretended to be absorbed in a game on TV. The first night, Peter started reading somewhere in the middle of The Prisoner of Azkaban. Jason saw him read somewhere towards the end of The Order of the Phoenix on the second. But the third night, Peter read the first chapter of The Chamber of Secrets. Some nights would be consecutive, but never in order. The middle, the end, the beginning of the middle, the end of the middle, the beginning of The Goblet of Fire. Jason was pretty sure that one was his favorite, and he could always tell what parts he was reading by his facial expressions. When Peter was frantically rubbing his eyes, Jason knew that everyone’s favorite minor character was dead. When he laughed out loud, a short chuckle that Jason knew Peter was a little embarrassed about, the Weasley twins did something. But when his selected chapter was finished, the book would return to its spot on the shelf and Peter would climb back into bed, this time under the covers, turn towards the wall, and go to sleep.
The weirdest habit of Peter’s that Jason observed involved the mail. Classes ended at 2:30 and Jason was always back in the room to watch television by 2:45. Peter had photography club right after eighth period, so he didn’t return until nearly 3:30. Each day, he’d drop his bag by his desk without a word and leave the room. Most days he returned empty handed, but once or twice a week, he came back with a letter. Sometimes they were Jason’s and sometimes they were his own.
It was Wednesday. Jason was sitting on his bed watching a Maury rerun, a bowl of cereal on his lap. Peter walked in and tossed his bag towards his chair. It bounced off and landed on the ground with a thud, followed by the clicking of the door. Jason didn’t look away from the TV. At this point, whether or not Jackson was the father of Tisha’s baby was more important than Peter’s weird afterschool rituals.
“This came for you.” Jason didn’t hear the door open or Peter’s footsteps.
He looked up, mouth full of Lucky Charms. Dropping his spoon in the bowl, he reached out his hand. “Thanks,” he said, forcing the marshmallows down.
“No problem.” Peter walked to his side of the room to pick up his backpack. “Your grandma sends you a lot of mail,” he commented, adding, “I saw the return address,” quickly.
Jason nodded. “Yeah, it’s my dad’s mom. I pretended once to be interested in hearing a story about her Croquet Club years ago and she hasn’t stopped updating me about it since.”
Peter laughed. “That’s cute.”
Jason shrugged, tossing the envelope onto his bedside table. “You expecting a letter or something?” He was curious about Peter’s weird obsession with checking the mail, and it seemed like an innocent enough question.
“Um, yeah.” His reply was short as he pulled a disorganized notebook from his bag.
“From who? Dumbledore?”
“What?” Peter looked over at Jason, his eyes wide and his cheeks a little pinker than usual.
Jason released an awkward chuckle. “I was just kidding.”
“Oh,” Peter replied, allowing himself an uneasy laugh. “No, I’m not that obsessed with Harry Potter or anything. My mom pretty much made me accept that none of it ever was and ever will be real before she let me read them like four or five years ago.”
Jason nodded, his eyes drifting back to the television screen. “I knew he wasn’t the father,” he muttered under his breath before directing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“My friend Caylee.”
“What?” Jason looked up at him, confused.
“Um, my friend from camp. Who I’m expecting the letter from.” He looked at his feet awkwardly, pretty sure the subject had passed and Jason didn’t care anymore. “Her name’s Caylee.”
“Oh, cool,” Jason replied.
“Yeah, we met over the summer and we exchanged addresses before we left. She doesn’t live that close to me, really.”
“Oh. Is she cute?” he pushed the topic. “Did you have a crush on her or something?”
“No,” Peter replied quickly. “Um, I mean, we were just friends. She’s a redhead and I’m, um… I prefer blondes.” Peter pointed to a picture tacked onto the wall. It showed a slightly sunburned Peter standing next to a thin girl with bright red curls and a big smile. “That’s her.”
Jason squinted at the photo. “I’m more into brunettes myself.”
Peter nodded with a laugh, turning back to his work.
A few minutes of silence between the boys set over the room, the only sound coming from Peter’s page-turning and Jason’s TV.
“If I tell you something really embarrassing, will you promise not to tell anyone?” Jason’s voice caught Peter by surprise. “The mail reminded me.”
“Sure,” Peter replied, setting his book on the desk as he turned in his chair to face Jason. He looked at his roommate with an expression on his face that seemed to say he expected Jason to have a secret.
“During the fall that we were 10, the nanny used to read me and Nadia a chapter from the first Harry Potter book every night before bed,” he began. “I loved the book and went on to read the second one on my own. I mean, I was pretty much obsessed and wanted nothing more than to forget basketball and be a wizard. So, the next February when I turned 11, I started checking the mail obsessively every day.”
“Why?”
“For my letter.”
“To… Hogwarts?” Peter annunciated the words slowly; a confused expression still dressed his face.
Jason nodded. “It’s lame, I know. But I was a kid, and your mail habit reminded me.”
Peter laughed. “I think I might have done the same if my mom hadn’t told me it was all definitely not real.” He ran his fingers through his hair, watching Jason’s attention drift away from him. “So, it never came, I guess?”
“It did, actually,” Jason answered with a laugh.
“And you turned down admission from Hogwarts to go to St. Cecilia’s?” Peter grinned, leaning against his chair, still looking at Jason.
He laughed harder. “After a few weeks of volunteering to take the walk down the half-mile driveway to the mailbox and two re-reads of each of the first two books, Nadia caught on to my idea.”
“I think I see where this is going,” Peter interrupted with a smile.
“So, one day in July, I hear the mail truck and I bolt out of the pool and down the driveway,” Jason explains. “Of course, there’s nothing there, so I stomp off to my room all pissed off and when I go to open my bedroom door, I step on an envelope. And it’s addressed to me with my middle name which nobody knows--”
“Which is?” Peter cut him off quickly, a curious grin on his lips.
“Dallas,” Jason answered. “Don’t tell anyone that either, okay?”
Peter nodded.
“Anyway, the envelope even has ‘The Bedroom to the Left of the Stairs’ as part of the address and it was the nicest cursive I’d ever seen.” Jason’s lips curled into a reminiscent smirk. “So I bolted down the steps with the letter screaming about how I was a wizard and I called Nadia a stupid muggle and she just started laughing at me. And I was like, ‘Why is she laughing? She should be jealous that I’m a wizard and she’s not.’”
Peter nodded. “I can see that happening, actually. How did you find out it was her?”
“She told me after a few minutes,” he answered. “I said I was going to practice Quidditch with the outside broom, and I think she feared for my safety or something. Or she didn’t want to get in trouble for leading me to believe I could fly and consequently tricking me into jumping off the roof.”
Peter was practically doubled over in laugher. “I never knew you were a Harry Potter fan at all, let alone that into them.”
“Well, not anymore,” Jason clarified. “Nadia sort of ruined it for me, so I threw the two books in the pool and I haven’t read from the third on. I won’t even watch the movies.”
Peter stared at Jason strangely. “That’s crazy.”
“It just kind of ruined a part of my childhood, you know?”
“Yeah,” he answered, nodding absentmindedly. “Well, if you ever change your mind and want to give the books another try, you’re welcome to borrow them.”
“Thanks, Peter. I’ll think about it.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Peter was closer, so he stood up to answer it. Opening the big white door, he saw Zack from across the hall.
“Hey, Peter.”
“Hi, Zack. What’s up?”
“I think I got your mail by mistake.” The shorter boy held a crinkled white envelope in Peter’s direction. “The return address says Michigan. I thought you were from outside Chicago.”
“Yeah, I am. Camp friend.”
“Oh, cool,” he replied, nodding. “Hey, man, I think she has the wrong address though because that’s my room number.”
Peter looked at the envelope, noticing ‘Room 552’ instead of ‘Room 557’ was written neatly across the envelope. “Sometimes my sevens look like twos,” he answered. “I’ll have to let her know. Thanks so much.”
“Sure,” Zack said. “I got it a few days ago and forgot about it. Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. See you later.” He shut the door as he headed back to his desk, eager to read Caylee’s long anticipated letter.
“It’s not from Dumbledore, is it?” Jason inquired from his bed, the bowl of cereal now sitting on his table.
“No, how’d you know?” Peter asked with a hint of sarcasm as he peeled away the back of the envelope.
“Because Dumbledore would have gotten the address correct the first time,” Jason answered, with a matter-of-fact tone of humor in his voice. “None of this wrong mailbox bullshit.”
Peter laughed, smoothing out the paper on his desk. “If he could read my handwriting to begin with.”
The blond boy smiled. “After years and years of teaching, I think he can handle some chicken scratch.”
Peter and Jason looked up each other, their eyes meeting as they simultaneously burst into laughter. They both knew that letters from Dumbledore would never find a way into their shared mailbox, but somehow, in a routine reality where they were taught religion instead of divination and where mail came by trucks instead of owls, pretending that magic was the world’s best kept secret made life just a little bit easier.
In the midst of the laughter, they went from roommates to best friends, both waiting for letters that weren’t coming and hiding secrets they didn’t have to keep.
Author: Sarah
Rating: PG
Words: 1,963
Characters: Peter, Jason
Summary: Peter's strange mail habits inspire Jason to share a childhood story about himself.
Spoilers: There are references to the first 5 Harry Potter books, but nothing huge. You're fine if you've just seen the movies though.
Notes: I've been on a recent Harry Potter kick and watching the 4th and 5th movie last week or so inspired this. ALSO, I set this during their freshmen year, so it would make sense that not all of the books were out yet (there were only 5 when I was a freshman).
Disclaimer: I don't own Bare or Harry Potter.
Peter’s habits were clockwork. He woke every morning at 6:35 and sat up slowly to turn off his alarm before sitting quietly, his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed in a silent prayer. Jason would watch from his bed, still pretending to be asleep. Jason’s alarm went off at 6:40, at which time Peter hopped out of his little trance to change from his pajama pants and old t-shirt into the St. Cecilia’s uniform.
Peter’s bedtime routine was always the same too. After he finished studying or doing his homework, he would select one of the five Harry Potter books sitting on his shelf. They were in order, from The Sorcerer’s Stone through The Order of the Phoenix. It was clear that he had previously read the books multiple times, but each night he’d select one and read a chapter. There was no order to it. Jason would observe him as he pretended to be absorbed in a game on TV. The first night, Peter started reading somewhere in the middle of The Prisoner of Azkaban. Jason saw him read somewhere towards the end of The Order of the Phoenix on the second. But the third night, Peter read the first chapter of The Chamber of Secrets. Some nights would be consecutive, but never in order. The middle, the end, the beginning of the middle, the end of the middle, the beginning of The Goblet of Fire. Jason was pretty sure that one was his favorite, and he could always tell what parts he was reading by his facial expressions. When Peter was frantically rubbing his eyes, Jason knew that everyone’s favorite minor character was dead. When he laughed out loud, a short chuckle that Jason knew Peter was a little embarrassed about, the Weasley twins did something. But when his selected chapter was finished, the book would return to its spot on the shelf and Peter would climb back into bed, this time under the covers, turn towards the wall, and go to sleep.
The weirdest habit of Peter’s that Jason observed involved the mail. Classes ended at 2:30 and Jason was always back in the room to watch television by 2:45. Peter had photography club right after eighth period, so he didn’t return until nearly 3:30. Each day, he’d drop his bag by his desk without a word and leave the room. Most days he returned empty handed, but once or twice a week, he came back with a letter. Sometimes they were Jason’s and sometimes they were his own.
It was Wednesday. Jason was sitting on his bed watching a Maury rerun, a bowl of cereal on his lap. Peter walked in and tossed his bag towards his chair. It bounced off and landed on the ground with a thud, followed by the clicking of the door. Jason didn’t look away from the TV. At this point, whether or not Jackson was the father of Tisha’s baby was more important than Peter’s weird afterschool rituals.
“This came for you.” Jason didn’t hear the door open or Peter’s footsteps.
He looked up, mouth full of Lucky Charms. Dropping his spoon in the bowl, he reached out his hand. “Thanks,” he said, forcing the marshmallows down.
“No problem.” Peter walked to his side of the room to pick up his backpack. “Your grandma sends you a lot of mail,” he commented, adding, “I saw the return address,” quickly.
Jason nodded. “Yeah, it’s my dad’s mom. I pretended once to be interested in hearing a story about her Croquet Club years ago and she hasn’t stopped updating me about it since.”
Peter laughed. “That’s cute.”
Jason shrugged, tossing the envelope onto his bedside table. “You expecting a letter or something?” He was curious about Peter’s weird obsession with checking the mail, and it seemed like an innocent enough question.
“Um, yeah.” His reply was short as he pulled a disorganized notebook from his bag.
“From who? Dumbledore?”
“What?” Peter looked over at Jason, his eyes wide and his cheeks a little pinker than usual.
Jason released an awkward chuckle. “I was just kidding.”
“Oh,” Peter replied, allowing himself an uneasy laugh. “No, I’m not that obsessed with Harry Potter or anything. My mom pretty much made me accept that none of it ever was and ever will be real before she let me read them like four or five years ago.”
Jason nodded, his eyes drifting back to the television screen. “I knew he wasn’t the father,” he muttered under his breath before directing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“My friend Caylee.”
“What?” Jason looked up at him, confused.
“Um, my friend from camp. Who I’m expecting the letter from.” He looked at his feet awkwardly, pretty sure the subject had passed and Jason didn’t care anymore. “Her name’s Caylee.”
“Oh, cool,” Jason replied.
“Yeah, we met over the summer and we exchanged addresses before we left. She doesn’t live that close to me, really.”
“Oh. Is she cute?” he pushed the topic. “Did you have a crush on her or something?”
“No,” Peter replied quickly. “Um, I mean, we were just friends. She’s a redhead and I’m, um… I prefer blondes.” Peter pointed to a picture tacked onto the wall. It showed a slightly sunburned Peter standing next to a thin girl with bright red curls and a big smile. “That’s her.”
Jason squinted at the photo. “I’m more into brunettes myself.”
Peter nodded with a laugh, turning back to his work.
A few minutes of silence between the boys set over the room, the only sound coming from Peter’s page-turning and Jason’s TV.
“If I tell you something really embarrassing, will you promise not to tell anyone?” Jason’s voice caught Peter by surprise. “The mail reminded me.”
“Sure,” Peter replied, setting his book on the desk as he turned in his chair to face Jason. He looked at his roommate with an expression on his face that seemed to say he expected Jason to have a secret.
“During the fall that we were 10, the nanny used to read me and Nadia a chapter from the first Harry Potter book every night before bed,” he began. “I loved the book and went on to read the second one on my own. I mean, I was pretty much obsessed and wanted nothing more than to forget basketball and be a wizard. So, the next February when I turned 11, I started checking the mail obsessively every day.”
“Why?”
“For my letter.”
“To… Hogwarts?” Peter annunciated the words slowly; a confused expression still dressed his face.
Jason nodded. “It’s lame, I know. But I was a kid, and your mail habit reminded me.”
Peter laughed. “I think I might have done the same if my mom hadn’t told me it was all definitely not real.” He ran his fingers through his hair, watching Jason’s attention drift away from him. “So, it never came, I guess?”
“It did, actually,” Jason answered with a laugh.
“And you turned down admission from Hogwarts to go to St. Cecilia’s?” Peter grinned, leaning against his chair, still looking at Jason.
He laughed harder. “After a few weeks of volunteering to take the walk down the half-mile driveway to the mailbox and two re-reads of each of the first two books, Nadia caught on to my idea.”
“I think I see where this is going,” Peter interrupted with a smile.
“So, one day in July, I hear the mail truck and I bolt out of the pool and down the driveway,” Jason explains. “Of course, there’s nothing there, so I stomp off to my room all pissed off and when I go to open my bedroom door, I step on an envelope. And it’s addressed to me with my middle name which nobody knows--”
“Which is?” Peter cut him off quickly, a curious grin on his lips.
“Dallas,” Jason answered. “Don’t tell anyone that either, okay?”
Peter nodded.
“Anyway, the envelope even has ‘The Bedroom to the Left of the Stairs’ as part of the address and it was the nicest cursive I’d ever seen.” Jason’s lips curled into a reminiscent smirk. “So I bolted down the steps with the letter screaming about how I was a wizard and I called Nadia a stupid muggle and she just started laughing at me. And I was like, ‘Why is she laughing? She should be jealous that I’m a wizard and she’s not.’”
Peter nodded. “I can see that happening, actually. How did you find out it was her?”
“She told me after a few minutes,” he answered. “I said I was going to practice Quidditch with the outside broom, and I think she feared for my safety or something. Or she didn’t want to get in trouble for leading me to believe I could fly and consequently tricking me into jumping off the roof.”
Peter was practically doubled over in laugher. “I never knew you were a Harry Potter fan at all, let alone that into them.”
“Well, not anymore,” Jason clarified. “Nadia sort of ruined it for me, so I threw the two books in the pool and I haven’t read from the third on. I won’t even watch the movies.”
Peter stared at Jason strangely. “That’s crazy.”
“It just kind of ruined a part of my childhood, you know?”
“Yeah,” he answered, nodding absentmindedly. “Well, if you ever change your mind and want to give the books another try, you’re welcome to borrow them.”
“Thanks, Peter. I’ll think about it.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Peter was closer, so he stood up to answer it. Opening the big white door, he saw Zack from across the hall.
“Hey, Peter.”
“Hi, Zack. What’s up?”
“I think I got your mail by mistake.” The shorter boy held a crinkled white envelope in Peter’s direction. “The return address says Michigan. I thought you were from outside Chicago.”
“Yeah, I am. Camp friend.”
“Oh, cool,” he replied, nodding. “Hey, man, I think she has the wrong address though because that’s my room number.”
Peter looked at the envelope, noticing ‘Room 552’ instead of ‘Room 557’ was written neatly across the envelope. “Sometimes my sevens look like twos,” he answered. “I’ll have to let her know. Thanks so much.”
“Sure,” Zack said. “I got it a few days ago and forgot about it. Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. See you later.” He shut the door as he headed back to his desk, eager to read Caylee’s long anticipated letter.
“It’s not from Dumbledore, is it?” Jason inquired from his bed, the bowl of cereal now sitting on his table.
“No, how’d you know?” Peter asked with a hint of sarcasm as he peeled away the back of the envelope.
“Because Dumbledore would have gotten the address correct the first time,” Jason answered, with a matter-of-fact tone of humor in his voice. “None of this wrong mailbox bullshit.”
Peter laughed, smoothing out the paper on his desk. “If he could read my handwriting to begin with.”
The blond boy smiled. “After years and years of teaching, I think he can handle some chicken scratch.”
Peter and Jason looked up each other, their eyes meeting as they simultaneously burst into laughter. They both knew that letters from Dumbledore would never find a way into their shared mailbox, but somehow, in a routine reality where they were taught religion instead of divination and where mail came by trucks instead of owls, pretending that magic was the world’s best kept secret made life just a little bit easier.
In the midst of the laughter, they went from roommates to best friends, both waiting for letters that weren’t coming and hiding secrets they didn’t have to keep.