"Harry, I know this must be hard for you to accept, but you have to go back." Remus said, gazing somberly at Harry. Something in Remus' eye made Harry's stomach twitch, and he knew that Remus was laying on the guilt thick. He always did when talking Harry into doing something he didn't want to do.

Harry sighed deeply and rubbed at the stress knots in his temples, closing his eyes against the pain blooming ever-so steadily across his entire head. He was back in the small box room at the Dursley's that he'd been given when he was eleven, it used to be so small to him then but now that he was taller and bigger -though sadly not by much- it was tiny. It gave him nothing but time to work over the memories of his younger years; the many times he'd been in terrible danger, the many times he'd foolishly gotten caught out for things that hadn't been his fault and the many times he'd kept himself from dying.

"Remus you don't understand, I can't go back!" Harry pleaded, gleaming emerald eyes widening in incredulity at the idea of even going back there, "You have no idea what it's like there ! They hate me as much as Snape does - they'll throw me out as soon as I step foot in there! You have to let me stay Remus!"

Remus sighed wearily and closed his eyes, "Harry, you know that that's not true," he said reluctantly, opening his eyes and gazing at Harry with disappointment and something akin to regret, "I'd take you in straight away and you know that, but I can't just yet, you're needed at the Dursley's and I need to find us a place to stay."

The bottom of Harry's stomach dropped at the mention of the Dursley's and he redoubled his efforts, "I'll stay here at Grimmauld with Siri, he won't have to be alone and he can keep a proper eye on me!" Harry suggested hurriedly, "He can take care of me the same as everybody else can!"

Remus looked to be considering what he was saying, and after a brief moment, he spoke slowly, "I'm sorry Harry, but with Sirius' history, it's likely that he'll only corrupt you with thoughts of pranking like he did with James. I'm sorry Harry, but you have to go back to the Dursley's."

"I'm not needed there anymore Moony, there's no reason for them to be attacked - " Harry began to say angrily.

"There are plenty of reasons for why they should be attacked, Harry," Remus interrupted him calmly, placating him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, "Death Eater's are still roaming the neighborhood, they know where you live and they won't hesitate to incapacitate them in a move to stress you or move your hand. You need to go back to renew the wards so that they are not in immediate danger, you know this Harry. After all Dumbledore had done for you, I would have thought that you would understand the word sacrifice."

Like Death Eater's would even do that, Harry thought bitterly, glaring up at the cobwebs lodged in the top corner of the room, they'd be too terrified to face me let alone threaten me now that I've killed their leader. But alas, as a result from Remus' reasoning and harsh guilt-tripping, he'd had no choice but to move back. In fact, he'd moved back to the Dursley's the very next day, unable to fight the disappointed look on Remus' face when he protested any longer.

Harry had somewhat lost the urge to try and please his best friends, although they still expected him to bow down to their 'almighty logic' that he wasn't smart enough and they knew what was best.

It had been like that since the time harry had been pulled by Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, though thankfully before Tom could do any real damage to him or his friends, he'd managed to distract him long enough for the Order to arrive. However, that didn't necessarily mean that his friends had forgotten all about it; it was quite hard to forget hearing your best friend screaming his lungs up and writhing in absolute pain, after all.

Over the time it took to defeat Voldemort, Harry never questioned the others when they didn't tell him anything, he just sat and did as he was told. He had pretended to be the 'Golden Boy' that everyone had expected him to be, only putting his ideas up for observation when they were specifically called for. Other than that, he wasn't much questioned. Harry knew that his friends were only trying to protect him, especially after that stint he'd pulled at the Ministry, but after some time of them not allowing him to do anything, he'd realized that they were trying to protect him from himself.

They hadn't allowed him to floo anywhere without 'proper authorization', and hadn't allowed him to be alone even when sleeping. Ron had roomed with him and followed him wherever he went, including the bathroom. His reasoning was that Harry could have a sudden vision and could slip in the shower and break his neck.

However thoroughly planned his protection was, none of that stopped Harry from moving about under the cover of night, discovering secrets made by Voldemort and ultimately discovering the key to this 'Power the Dark Lord knows not'. He'd found nearly all of the Horcruxes needed by himself, without Dumbledore, without Hermione and Ron and without anyone. Only Sirius knew about his night time adventures, and yet he didn't say or do anything but give Harry encouraging winks every so often when he'd catch his eye.

Sirius was the only one left who fully supported him, even with the mistake Harry had made at the Ministry, he supported Harry. But whatever plans that they'd made to live together after the war was over, was up in flames before they could fully map them out. However sparingly they saw each other, Sirius had always managed to make him smile and laugh at every given chance. Even if something bad had happened. Sirius always managed to drive him out of his depression, out of the 'darkness' that he almost always found himself stuck in.

But now there's no chance of that.

Remus himself had forbidden Harry from so much as sending an owl to any of his friends and Sirius, and since Harry's not of age, he can't send a small patronus. Not unless he wished to get himself arrested that is. He knew Remus wasn't trying to hurt him, but it just came out that way whenever he said anything about staying with the Dursley's. Harry had felt himself almost die when Remus told him not to owl them. Though Remus did promise that they'd visit him whenever they could, seeing as Mrs. Figg lived two streets away and the Dursley's finally had enough sense to change the fire place to a real fireplace, so Harry could floo call them whenever he liked.

However, that idea was shortly lived when he had realized that they hadn't given him any floo powder once he'd arrived at Number four Privet Drive.

Unlike many of the other times he'd been here at the Dursley's, his wand and school supplies weren't stripped from him, he was allowed his things so long as he didn't use them. It was strange, but the Dursley's had somehow dragged up some semblance of respect for him, at least enough for them not to slander his parents and ruin his self esteem. Maybe it was the spell damage to his arm and leg, maybe it was the fact that he actually survived something no one else has. Or maybe it's because they finally found out just how close they'd come to being murdered in their house without him.

Harry scratched his smooth hairless chin with a small sigh and stretched his aching spine. Not only is he behind in the height and weight departments, but he's also as hairless as he was when he was ten. He reckoned that that should be okay, that he should be happy that he didn't have to suffer through cuts on his face, the stinging sensation of after shave and the thought of having a razor blade so close to his face. Harry had been reasoning with himself all Summer. But so far? It's just another thing that he's missing out on, something normal.

Even Ron had at least a small patch of hair growing on his chin, though somehow that's not the most unbelievable thing, what with Ron's height and weight. Ron was Normal, Hermione was Normal, the Weasley's were Normal. And him? He was abnormal, a freak. He couldn't even grow facial hair!

Harry swiped under his eyes, feeling the black bags and sleep still there in the corners. He hadn't been able to sleep as well as usual, though before he would've been lucky to sleep for at least six hours. Now? He could only sleep for three -maybe four- hours at a time, and it was showing bright and clear on his face just how little he's sleeping. Even his blind and uncaring aunt, uncle and cousin were showing some semblances of worry.

Harry wished he could owl Hermione so he could ask her why he hadn't been sleeping well. Voldemort's gone, so why can't he sleep normally without being plagued by the snake-faced twat? He'd put it down to separation anxiety the first week here, but as his stay here was drawing to a close and his birthday drew nearer, he began to worry that it was something else. Sure there was the empty feeling in his mind where Voldemort had claimed as his own -that he wasn't upset for having-, but there was this other feeling of emptiness right in the middle of his chest. It ached every minute of the day and night, a constant reminder of something he hadn't yet worked out.

Harry certainly didn't feel anything for Voldemort other than anger and he definitely wasn't close with the bastard, so why the feeling of emptiness? Like there was a hole where his heart was? He could only speculate that it was due to his aching to be with his family and friends, to be with Sirius in some domestic house in the middle of no where, to be taking care of his Godson whenever Remus and Tonks wanted a night out. To just be with his friends and enjoy himself for once, without the threat of death hanging over them.

At that thought, Harry sat up and looked to the dark window beside his bed, watching the shadows at the edge of the wards shift and move. Sighing to himself about bloody Death Eater's, he settled himself on the seat in front of the window and made himself comfortable in the groove. Whenever he awoke from his pitiful sleep, he always found himself sitting in front of the window, reminding himself that there were still people out there looking for him. A reminder that he couldn't leave no matter what, though whether it was to run away or not, was unclear.

It was revealed to him -after the several celebrations and his recovery that is- that a few of Voldemort's inner circle members had escaped just a few minutes after Voldemort had been defeated. Very important members. The Lestranges, Dolohov, Yaxley, Rookwood, Macnair, Fenrir and Pettigrew. He let out a hiss at the thought of Pettigrew. He couldn't wait to track down the pathetic rat and destroy him.

After some time of him screaming his head off at the senior members of the Order -the ones he knows of at least-, he'd calmed down enough to ask just how they'd escaped. Their answer was not as he had expected of Voldemort's closest followers. He'd assumed that the Unforgivable's were used, or something equally as dark.

It turned out that they escaped by the skin of their teeth, managing to use the confundus charm on a surprised Bill Weasley and a mild severing charm on a trigger happy Charlie Weasley, but before they could make their escape and apparate outside of the wards, Kingsley had managed to shoot off a strong severing charm. It had hit Rookwood's arm, which they'd left behind in a last effort to escape. Harry wasn't sad to hear about that.

"Harry?"

Harry turned in surprise at the unexpected voice, "Aunt Petunia?" He asked dumbly. He hadn't realized just how unused his voice was until he'd spoken. He cleared his throat and glanced at the alarm clock. It was eight thirty. "What's going on?" He asked.

Surprise flickered across her face, before she frowned tersely at him as if he was making a lame joke that she found insulting. "There's a group of.." She hesitated, her face scrunching up as if garbage was shoved under her nose, "there's a group of wizards outside our house, and no matter what we do they won't leave. They keep asking for you."

Harry glanced out the window again, this time actually taking in what was out there. Picture perfect gardens, carefully mowed lawns, sprinklers still spouting water and gleaming cars trapped under streetlights. He blinked when he noticed the motion sensor lights his uncle had installed a few weeks ago were on, and a small group of important looking wizards were stood conversing intensely with each other at the end of the drive. He squinted at one of the wizards chests and saw a glint of silver. They were Ministry workers.

"I don't know who they are, but they're wearing Ministry badges," said Harry, frowning to himself. He wondered if they'd come here to arrest him for his actions at the Ministry and his defeat of Voldemort. And they probably had, considering how long it took for them to take over the reigns for the Wizarding world, they were probably here to issue a late arrest warrant for him for killing a handful of Death Eaters and Voldemort and destroying most of the Ministry Atrium.

"Is this about that - that war?" asked aunt Petunia timidly in a wary voice, knotting her bony arms across her chest. Petunia Dursley was not one for fighting, for whatever reason it was. She was all for backstabbing and digging up dirt to post about on her enemies, especially that Mrs. Number Five.

Harry didn't want to say anything, he wanted her to back out of his room and go back to making dinner downstairs, but he knew she wouldn't. Not unless he expressly told her to, and not even he wanted to wreck the shaky truce that they'd all made since he'd come back to them. "Most likely," Harry said stiffly.

Aunt Petunia's blue eyes narrowed suspiciously at his vague answer, but she didn't call him on it, "Well, make them leave." said aunt Petunia tersely, before disappearing from his doorway. Presumably to continue making the roast chicken he could smell wafting through the house from downstairs..

Harry got up slowly, ignoring the twinges in his leg and shoulder and ignored the need to cover up and instead grabbed his wand from the nightstand. He'd just have to go out there with a naked chest, he couldn't stand the thought of having to put on a shirt, especially as it took too long and was extremely painful. He carefully hobbled out of the room with a hand trailing along the wall until he came to the stairs, instead guiding himself down the stairs with the banister. His damaged leg wobbled ominously.

Dudley met him at the bottom of the stairs, his chubby frame shaking lightly and his small watery blue eyes wide, "There's wizards outside." He pointed out dumbly, extending his arm to give support. It had been a surprise to everyone when Dudley began helping Harry about the house, even attempting to do the hardest of chores for the pain riddled teen. Though that service had been cut short abruptly when Dudley found out just how hard those chores were. Dudley still helped, even if he left the hardest of chores for Harry to do.

Harry nodded jerkily and sucked in a breath when his damaged leg caved in at the knee. He gripped Dudley's slightly chubby arm tightly, ignoring the small squeak of pain that was emitted and hobbled past him to the door. He glanced at himself in the mirror beside the door and winced at the pale and slightly sickly look to his face, the purple bags were prominent against his pale pallor.

"You can't go out there looking like that!" Dudley protested, his large face wobbling as he shook his head frantically. "Mum'll kill you!"

"I'll be back in a minute, no one will see anything." said Harry firmly, before taking advantage of Dudley's dumbfounded silence to quickly slip out of the house. His wand was in his hand and pointing at their feet when he joined them in the light. He had to be careful, he didn't know if they were Death Eater's in disguise or not.

The small group of wizards at the edge of the property all stopped speaking at once and turned to face him in sync. There were four of them, all wearing strict Ministry official robes. One of them looked to be the youngest at forty and the eldest at eighty in the least. He inspected them, watching them as they scrutinized him. His wand hummed in his right hand, ready for if they were to attack him.

"Yes?" Harry asked cautiously, shuffling uncomfortably as his leg gave out a particularly nasty twinge. He had to focus, shut out the pain.

"Ah - yes, Mister Potter," The youngest wizard wheezed, smiling widely at him with crooked teeth, "I apologize for the intrusion, the Order surely didn't make finding you any easier than normal."

Harry's eyebrows shot up incredulously at the man, "I'm sorry?" He asked bemusedly. Well then. No one had ever opened with that line before. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and squinted his eyes at them.

The youngest wizard of the four grinned cheerily and waved him off as if batting away a compliment, "No, no, it's alright Mister Potter, we've found you anyhow," He said blithely, "I am Markus Delaine of the Department of Magical and Creature Inheritances, this is my colleague, Derrick Michael." He gestured to the slightly older wizard to his left with another sickly happy grin. Derrick inclined his balding grey head politely and respectfully, smiling slightly at the confused look on Harry's face.

"Erkle Higgon, Department of Familial Inheritances." said the eldest man brusquely in his deep voice, still eyeing him closely. He reminded Harry of Moody for some odd reason. Maybe it was the deep wrinkles in the mans pale skin, or the way he was looking so closely at him, it was like the man had two of those twirling eyes of Moody's.

The last man, fatherly and warm with a kind smile, to Erkle's left smiled apologetically and bowed slightly at the waist, revealing a small island of pale skin on the top of his grey head, his right fist coming up to rest on his left shoulder, "An honor to meet you Mister Potter," He said thickly, actually looking close to tears, "I am Erason Linn, also of the Department of Familial Inheritances. It is an enormous pleasure to meet you."

Harry stared at them all blankly, his mind barely putting the words together in his mind. Department of ... What?

After what felt like an eternity, he realized what they'd said. Finally, it clicked. It was his birthday in just three hours, so they were here for him, but they weren't going to arrest him. "Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you all." Harry said hurriedly, noticing the slightly hurt look on Erason's fatherly face. "I apologize for being rude, I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Abruptly, the eldest man fumbled for something in his inner robe pocket, he produced a small golden pocket watch and glanced quickly at its face for a brief moment before dropping it back into place, "Yes, well we must be on our way, we've already lost enough time as it is." Erkle said waspishly, turning to glare at Markus expectantly, "Markus." He snapped.

Aside from being snapped at, Markus stepped closer to the wards with a bounce in his step and beckoned Harry forward with a crooked finger. Harry hobbled over as quickly as he could, especially after seeing the look on Erkle's face and stopped just before the wards ended. He almost collapsed at Markus' feet in a groaning mess when his knee crumpled in on itself painfully, but he kept his face blank despite the shocking pain. That didn't go unnoticed by the four Ministry officials, but they seemed too consumed with the thought of losing so much time, that they didn't comment.

Markus produced a large cream scroll wrapped in a royal blue ribbon, an unsettling grin perched across his thin lips that barely covered the crooked teeth behind them, "Mister Potter, you have been issued your full inheritance letters due to recent events allowing you to enter manhood earlier than usual, as the rules per person is required that for one to receive their inheritances, they must be of age. However that rule is redundant considering the terms your inheritances have been issued upon. Usually an owl would deliver your inheritance letters, but seeing as the Order has not authorized owls to deliver you any letters, we were required to deliver them by hand," He said happily enough, only pausing to take in a much needed breath that Harry marveled at, "When the clock strikes midnight tonight, you shall be able to read these scrolls fully. But do try not to read them until then, they tend to be a bit temperamental to those who try to take a peek outside of the allotted time." He warned merrily, pushing the scroll as far as it could go before his hand collided with the ward.

Harry took the scroll quietly and thanked him, watching as a jubilant Markus stepped back with a; "Cheerio Mister Potter!" and disappeared with a quiet pop. Derrick was quick to quietly hand him his own scroll, that was wrapped in an emerald ribbon. Harry thanked him as well but was distracted from watching him apparate by Erkle practically tossing him his own scroll, though this one was slightly thicker than the others and was wrapped in a crimson ribbon. He too disappeared, though he didn't hang around long enough for Harry to thank him. Not that he was going to.

Last was Erason, who hesitated to give his own scroll, but did so nonetheless. It was the thickest of all, and was wrapped in a purple ribbon. Erason smiled sadly, "What you're going to read tonight will shock you Mister Potter, but not quite as much as what will happen. A great deal of transitioning and revealing will be happening tonight." He said vaguely, gazing at him.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked quietly, watching the elderly wizard before him carefully. He wasn't stupid, he knew what inheritance letters were, he just didn't know what they meant or what happened to one when one received them. Especially as he himself had received his early.

Erason frowned lightly at him, "These are inheritance letters Mister Potter, many things are about to change tonight come your birthday. Your appearance, your magic and your views on your family, among other things," he said resolutely before he looked away from Harry and focused on something down the street, "there might be an addition or two into your family as well." He said knowingly, a small smile crinkling up the corner of his lips, "But I wouldn't worry too much on that, have a good day Mister Potter, I look forward to meeting you again in the future."

"Mister Linn - what -" Harry tried to say, but Erason was gone before he could even begin asking his questions. Why did he get his inheritance letters early? Why so many? Why would he change physically? Who was he talking about? What the hell was going on?

Harry looked down at the bundle of scrolls in his hands as if asking for reassurance that what had just happened had really just happened. A door opening down the way forced him into action and he quickly hobbled his way back inside the house before someone would see him, clutching the scrolls to his naked chest protectively. He made to go back upstairs, but was stopped by aunt Petunia's stern pale face and uncle Vernon's bulging red one. The vein on his forehead was bulging as largely as it did before the truce, but Vernon held his tongue. Thankfully.

"Have you no shame?!" burst aunt Petunia angrily, "what would the neighbors think if they saw you outside like that?" She snapped worriedly, her forehead creasing. She leaned around him to peer out of the glass window beside the door, checking to see if any neighbors were pressing their faces to the glass to try and glean some information.

Harry could hear her hiss and yell other things at him, but all he could think about or see were the scrolls. His inheritance scrolls. Some of them were bound to be from his parents, but which ones? He could hardly think that he'd inherit some creature feature from his mother or father. But even if they did have creature blood, why didn't Sirius or Remus tell him? Better yet, what about Dumbledore?

"What are they?" asked aunt Petunia calmly, seemingly over her rant now. She ran her fingers through her hair carefully and pursed her lips distastefully. Uncle Vernon looked slightly better for wear, if the disappearance of his bulging vein and his skin paling to its natural color was any evidence.

"They're my inheritance scrolls," Harry said slowly, staring at the four thick tubes of parchment in his hands as if they were a puzzle he couldn't figure out. Would he inherit any properties left over from his paternal grandparents? Would he inherit the house in Godric's Hollow? Something cooled in his stomach at that thought. Even if he did, he wouldn't go there. Ever.

"Inheritance scrolls?" asked aunt Petunia warily, she herself beginning to look confused, "What on Earth ..."

"Inheritance?" said Dudley suddenly from the lounge room, "As in money and properties and stuff?" Dudley wondered, waddling out of the lounge room to peer curiously at the parchment in Harry's hands. Dudley either ignored the looks he was getting from his parents or he was honestly oblivious to them.

Harry shrugged, though that caused a ripple of pain to blossom in his shoulder, "Mister Linn said that I'd be inheriting a lot of things, that apparently I'll be changing physically and magically, I guess that also means inheriting some properties and family vaults too but I'm not sure. The Muggle world is a lot more different than the Wizarding world."

Aside from a little bit of spluttering at the Wizarding terms, uncle Vernon didn't say a thing. He merely clamped his mouth shut and nodded as if to agree with whatever Harry was saying. Though he did redden a little bit around the neck.

"When are you inheriting these things?" Aunt Petunia asked reluctantly in a wary voice, her slight frame quivering lightly.

"At midnight," said Harry absently, his mind too focused on thinking about how he could get away from them without causing trouble. He didn't have much time to prepare for this, it was almost half past ten already. He didn't have time to eat, not that he was going to after that discovery, but still.

"Midnight?" snapped aunt Petunia, her lips tightening into a stiff line, "What kind of stupid people are they to force someone to stay up at such an hour?"

Harry shrugged his good shoulder at her, having learnt how bad it was to shrug both just before, "I don't know aunt Petunia, but I think I might go upstairs and rest for a little while, I need to get ready." He made to leave them, stepping carefully up the first few steps on the staircase. He didn't want to tell them about his yearly count downs, especially as it was from their neglect that it started. He didn't think he could stand having a row so close to something as big as this.

"Will it hurt?" asked Dudley quietly with worry in his voice, watching Harry struggle to climb the stairs with his injuries, before his face began reddening at the looks his parents sent him, that he finally noticed anyhow, "I - I mean, will you keep us up late with your screaming?" He asked hurriedly, the tips of his ears bright red.

Harry paused, thinking hard about what Erason just said, "I'll try to bite my tongue when something particularly painful happens," said Harry dryly, before he retreated back upstairs and into his room to await the most likely painful inheritances.

Harry wanted to at least be in some comfort before all hell broke loose.

And the scary fact was, he wasn't afraid of it like he should have been.

It was eleven fifty-three PM and Harry couldn't bring up any reasons for the lack of nerves in stomach, all he could do was sit patiently beside the pile of scrolls on his bed in the darkness and watch the illuminated numbers on his alarm clock flick by quietly. It would have been boring for his best friend, Ron Weasley, to sit by and watch as his birthday drew nearer and nearer, but to Harry, it was a tradition.

Harry reckoned that he should brace himself for the coming shocks and pain that the scrolls would deal him, but then he thought about it, he's already in enough pain from the damage to his leg and shoulder, what could adding more pain hurt?

Aunt Petunia was buzzing around the kitchen downstairs, Harry could hear her washing the dishes she'd washed just a few hours before, and muttering to herself, though he couldn't hear about what. Uncle Vernon was drinking his brandy in the sitting room, looking darkly at the nearly silent television and huffing every so often. Harry knew he only did that when a particularly stressful situation happened upon them.

Dudley was in his cluttered room, staring up at the stickered ceiling in silence from his bed and listening carefully for any sounds of distress, glancing at his own alarm clock and taking notice of how much time had passed. He was waiting for when the clock struck twelve, readying himself to go and help his unfortunate cousin.

Eleven fifty-seven PM.

Three minutes till twelve, and then Harry could open his scrolls. His fingers felt a little numb, he realized, when he reached out to line them all up on the rumpled bedspread. It was like his fingers were stuck in that silly putty Dudley had gotten for his birthday when he was nine.

Two minutes to go and he'd be sixteen. He felt tingly all over, almost like when he'd sat on his leg for a long period of time and it had fallen asleep. Harry swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth and wiped his numb hands on his tingling thighs, his breathing accelerating.

Feeling a small amount of pain coil in his stomach, Harry quickly took his glasses from his face and placed them on the desk near the window. If he felt pain now, before his inheritance, how bad would it be during it?

One minute …

A sudden shock of pain bursting at every nerve ending in his body had Harry crying out in shock. It was worse than he'd ever imagined! His stomach roiled and his lungs were burning, he was breathing fire with every exhale and inhale. His spine arched off of the bed when a wave of electricity shot through him. He could hear no more.

Dudley shot up from his bed when he heard his cousin's muffled cry and yanked his door open, he heard a plate shattering downstairs and knew his mother had dropped it in shock. He raced to Harry's small room, prying the door open with shaking fingers and flicking the light on hurriedly. His eyes widened impossibly when he found Harry panting and twisting in odd ways on his bed, his face screwed up in a silent scream. Dudley paled at seeing blood dribbling from the corner of Harry's mouth, parting into small streams of sweat and blood down the side of Harry's cheek.

"Mum!" cried Dudley, rushing into the room to Harry's side. "MUM!" he roared, frantically gripping his cousin's twisting pale hands fiercely, trying to give him an outlet for his pain. He regretted it when the blood flow was cut off from his hands and his bones felt like they were breaking.

"What's happened – OH DEAR LORD!" Petunia Dursley burst, having finally reached her nephew's room upon hearing her son's cries. Her knee's weakened at the sight of her nephew's writhing form, barely registering the fact that Dudley needed her help.

"Mum, help!" Dudley cried, glancing over his shoulder with pained eyes.

Petunia lurched into action immediately and grabbed a few odd shirts and socks from the floor, she rushed to Harry's side and immediately pinned his right ankle to one of the bed posts and circled one of the socks around it, tying it tightly into a knot that she knew he wouldn't escape from without help. She did the same for his other ankle, noting how Harry was trying desperately to free his limbs.

She didn't give him that chance.

"Pin his hand Dudley!" barked Petunia, moving around the opposite side of the bed to tie Harry's right hand to the headboard while he was distracted with his feet. He struggled, screaming silently and writhing furiously on the impossibly tangled bedspread, but no matter how hard he tugged, he could not remove his feet or hand from the bed. He groaned loudly in pain at the fire roaring in his damaged leg.

Dudley slammed Harry's resisting left hand to the headboard and struggled to hold it there, wincing sympathetically as Harry let out a small scream of pain that he couldn't hold back. That was his damaged arm. Petunia wasn't nearly so sympathetic, for she immediately tied the last shirt around his arm and headboard like a spider spinning a web, securing it tightly into the same knot she used for his other limbs.

And no sooner had she done that, that a series of small but loud cracks and snaps sounded in the semi silent room, followed by a loud pain-filled scream.

Dudley and Petunia looked down at Harry's flailing body and watched as Harry's legs slowly extended until his feet were planted firmly against the bed posts, where before, there were several inches of space.

"Did they just … grow?" whispered Dudley, face flushing a harsh green at the sounds of bones extending and growing in seconds.

Petunia flushed at the sight of Harry's arms also inching outward until his elbows were lined with the edges of the small single bed, where before they rested in the middle. She looked up at Dudley, "Dudley, leave." She ordered, racing around the room to search for another shirt. She needed to keep Harry silent, not only would the neighbors report them, but she didn't want to hear Harry -let alone anyone- screaming so painfully.

"But – no, wait! I wanna help –!" Dudley protested frantically, though his face turned a darker shade of green when another crack was heard. He was seriously doubting if he wanted to help at that minute.

Petunia glared at her son -the only time she'd ever done that- and put her hands on her hips, "I need to take care of Harry, Dudley, and I need to do that now. I don't want you getting sick from all this magic -!"

"But you -!" Dudley tried to interrupt angrily, eyes narrowing in an attempt to challenge her.

"I GREW UP WITH IT!" Petunia burst out, stressfully tangling her hands in her hair to try and keep herself from smacking her son upside the head. She sucked in a deep breath. They stared at each other for a moment, the both of them in shock. Before a loud moan of pain reached Petunia's ears and she broke out of the stupor.

She angrily led Dudley out of the room and into the hallway to give Harry privacy, where she saw a wary Vernon just entering with wide eyes, she paid him no mind and immediately rounded on her teary son, "I'm sorry for yelling Duddeykins, but I grew up with this, I don't want you getting hurt if Harry can't control his magic -"

"But you could get hurt too!" Dudley interrupted tearfully, eyes watering at the idea of his mother suddenly being obliterated coming to the forefront of his mind.

Petunia smiled at him, bringing her hand up to softly touch his cheek, "I'll be fine Duddeykins, I went through this with my sister, I know what to expect." Obviously it must be different for every witch or wizard, she thought to herself worriedly, but kept her face devoid of any emotion but tenderness for her son so that he would not freak out, Lily never broke her bones when she inherited our parents fortune. Something isn't right.

"You – you promise?" asked Dudley in a small quivering voice, sounding childish with his request.

Petunia looked down at the centre of her existence, the reason she got up every morning with a smile on her face, her baby boy, "Yes Duddy," she said softly, tenderly stroking his round cheek, "I promise."

Her promise was founded on the fact that she was related to Harry by blood the most, therefore, her blood would act as a shield against any harmful accidental magic that would occur, it was all coming back to her now. Everything her parents taught her about magic.

A scream, the loudest so far, broke through her thoughts, and she looked into the room to see Harry's back arching off of the bed, his naked upper body twitching and shuddering.

"Go downstairs Duddy," she said to Dudley hurriedly, "I want you to fill up a large bowl with warm water and fetch me a wash cloth, give it to your father and then go to bed."

Dudley nodded furiously and raced away from her, passing by his father like a two-legged bullet. He was a man on a mission. Petunia smiled fondly at her son's retreating back, before reality set in. Harry. She needed to silence Harry.

She entered the small room again, noting absent-mindedly how tiny it was, especially for a boy of his age. She rushed to the battered second-hand dresser she'd given Harry when he was younger, and pulled out the top drawer. She reached for the closest t-shirt there was and yanked it out hurriedly, hearing Harry's loud panting becoming louder and louder behind her. He was readying himself to scream, she could tell.

She ripped at the tattered old shirt and rushed to wrap it around Harry's open mouth. She hesitated when his eyes opened and focused on her, feeling as if she was doing the wrong thing by gagging him. But what else could she do? She couldn't make him pass out or purposefully hit him to make him unconscious. Gagging him was the best she could do.

"I'm so sorry Harry," She whimpered, tilting his head forward by sliding her hand into the mess of sweaty hair on the back his head, she quickly slid the strip of fabric over his open mouth, bunching a little so it filled his mouth, before tying the ends at the back of his head. She could feel that a handful or so of his hair had lodged themselves into the knot as well, and hoped Harry wouldn't mind having a patch of uneven hair at the back of his head.

"It's okay Harry," She said, brushing back the hair from his sweaty forehead tenderly, "it's going to be okay, you'll be fine." She felt odd comforting him like this, she'd never been so ... loving or caring towards him before. And that was her mistake. She knew it as soon as he'd arrived back at her house, how distant and jumpy he was around her family. Vernon especially so.

Petunia didn't know why, but her throat burned in the familiar way that it did whenever she was going to cry. She was ashamed of herself, she'd ostracized her sister's son merely because of two decades worth of jealousy. She was never going to do that again. She was never going to put Harry back in the cupboard under the stairs, she was never going to allow Vernon to hit him, she was never going to be short with him. No matter what. She owed it to him and to her sister.

Harry whimpered as he stared fearfully up at Petunia with watery emerald eyes. Lily's emerald eyes. Petunia swallowed back the heartache she rarely let show, and continued to try and calm Harry down. This is Harry, not Lily, she reminded herself harshly, still staring into the large green orbs that her nephew had inherited from his mother. From Lily.

Harry clamped his teeth down on the bunched up fabric in his mouth with a muffled scream, trying his best to hold them back. But it was so hard. The pain he was feeling was far worse than the many times he'd been under the Cruciatus curse. The pain was so strong that it seeped into his bones, it was pure agony, there was nothing, absolutely nothing in the world that could be worse than this.

Madame Pomfrey's Skelegrow would be a welcome relief at this moment, not to mention the Cruciatus curse. Oh but the pain, the pain! It burnt him, roasted him from the inside out, he was breathing fire. The pain was so thorough in his body, he felt it in his teeth, in his eyes and even in his ears and nose. It was everywhere.

The only welcome relief he had, was when he'd bitten his tongue. He'd felt, as much as tasted, the cool liquid flowing from the teeth marks, it was his blood, but when had it gotten to be so ... sweet and cool? However, that relief was gone as soon as his throat went fuzzy and the marks in his tongue faded. He'd tried to bite his tongue again, but he couldn't close his jaw enough to.

His skin was crawling, as if there were tiny sharp footed creatures stomping around his body.

"Sssh, Harry," Petunia cooed upon feeling Harry's forehead bunch up, she ran her fingers along the smooth skin, avoiding the lightning bolt scar totally, remembering how he used to wake up screaming, clasping a hand against it. Those were the only times she'd ever gone to make sure that he was okay, or rather, to tell him to shut up. She winced at the memories, before returning to reality and brushing her hand across his face again, "Ssh, it'll all be over soon, it'll pass."

Petunia jumped back when something under her hand moved and Harry let out a muffled roar of agony. She could hardly believe her eyes. Harry's pale skin was rippling like water, shifting his entire bone structure in small waves. She blinked harshly, not believing that this was happening. Although Harry's lips were stretched over the fabric in his mouth, they seemed to become plumper and pinker, looking softer and softer as time went by. His teeth, she could see, were straightening and becoming whiter and ... pointier?

Petunia could not stand this, she couldn't be here to watch her nephew change like this, she just couldn't.

And so, like the coward she knew she was, Petunia Dursley abandoned her nephew in his hour of need. In his hour of utmost pain.

She just left.