Chapter 1: At Home With The Dursleys... Or Not
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Maybe it's because I'm clumsy, I try
not to talk too loud
Maybe it's because I'm crazy, I try not to act too proud
They only hit until you cry, And after that you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore
[My Name is Luka - Suzan Vega]
~*~
The hottest day of summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. The only person left outside was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in the middle of the garden. Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter sat up, startled, at the sound of his uncle's car in the drive and quickly made himself look busy in the flower beds, double-checking for any weeds he might have missed.
Eventually he was allowed inside, though he forfeited his dinner for not showing enough "gratitude" towards Petunia when she had cooked dinner. What they had expected him to do when offered the disgusting piece of bread and lump of cheese before him, he didn't know.
~*~
Harry lay on his bed, staring at a textbook and trying to concentrate on his homework. He had to be careful about this, though; otherwise his aunt and uncle might catch him and then he'd really be in for it. To anyone else the concept would be strange—forbidden to do homework? But Harry Potter was not a normal boy. Harry Potter was not even a normal wizard. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead served as a daily reminder of the dark lord who had killed his parents. It was the mark of a dark curse, as well as a mark of the love of his mother.
Harry's summer thus far had not been pleasant. Not that summers with the Dursleys ever were. He hadn't really expected much of a holiday after the events of his previous year at Hogwarts. The tragedy of Cedric's death still weighed heavily on him. He didn't look to his family for comfort, though. They preferred to rub it in, daily making snickering comments like "murdered anyone lately?" Harry reminded himself to thank Dumbledore for the lovely letter he'd sent home so that the Dursleys would be able to "understand what was going on" and "be there for him." The very idea was laughable. To make matters worse, Uncle Vernon had once more locked his owl, Hedwig, in her cage to prevent Harry from sending mail to any of his friends.
This was a small annoyance compared to the other factors Vernon now contributed to his daily life. Vernon had become significantly crueler in his treatment towards Harry this summer. If Harry didn't complete his chores correctly—or made any other minute error—Uncle Vernon reacted furiously. He avoided Harry's face most of the time. Instead he landed the hardest blows where they wouldn't be visible, leaving trails of bruises along Harry's back and chest. The abuse rained down upon him, and it seemed there was nothing Harry could do to stop it. He was unable to fight back, as he had become extremely skinny and weak due to the meager diet provided by his 'family,' and he couldn't use magic. He didn't want to risk being expelled from Hogwarts. Staying with the Dursleys all year was definitely not a better option. However, a tiny part of him, somewhere deep inside, felt he deserved it, especially after what he'd done to Cedric. This part of him began to strengthen its hold day by day.
~*~
The next afternoon, Harry came inside after doing work in the yard and garden for a few hours. This part of his daily regimen furthered the lazyness of the rest of the family. They considered the fact that it kept him out of their way as well a bonus. He began to walk through the door, hoping he could get a drink of water from the tap before his Aunt Petunia saw him. Then he noticed in horror that he had left muddy footprints on the tiled floor in the entrance to the house, which, up to now, had been immaculate. Of course it could be easily cleaned up with a damp rag, but he knew his relatives would be furious. Harry knew he'd be accused of doing it on purpose. He was about to fetch something to clean it up with, but he heard footsteps coming. Soon his beefy uncle entered the room. When he saw the floor, he began to turn purple. With one massive shove Harry was sitting, stunned, on the ground. Uncle Vernon began to roar.
"Do you have no respect? Look what you've done to my wife's floor, and on a night when we're having guests at that! You goddamned miserable good-for-nothing orphan. You bloody vagrant. We take you in and clothe you and all you do is screw things up. I always knew you'd come to be a disgrace, even a murderer now! You think I can't guess what really happened in that supposed 'accident' at your school."
Harry's heart leapt as his Uncle's rant was cut off by the sound of a car in the drive. Harry watched as an expensive-looking black car parked and a man stepped out, followed by a young girl. Vernon glowered and stepped back from Harry, wiping his hands on his trousers as if any contact with the boy had dirtied them. Harry glanced out the window, which was only partly covered by a gauzy white curtain. He was surprised to see none other than Mr. Weasley, accompanied by Ginny, walk up to the front steps of number four and ring the bell.
Mr. Dursley seemed to remember them and opened the door only long enough to spit nastily at them, "What do you want? We don't deal with your kind."
"We've come for Harry," Mr. Weasley said firmly. His voice seemed to have hardened to ice.
Ginny glared at Vernon slipped quickly into the foyer. She glanced around the room before realizing that Harry was right below her nose. She gave him a strange look when she saw him sitting on the floor and she put out a hand to help him up. Mr. Weasley had followed her in and now seemed to tower over Vernon in anger.
Dudley waddled in—and then quickly ran out as fast as his chubby legs would take him, both hands clasped over his rump. Ginny raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a look that clearly said 'What was that about?'
He just mouthed something that looked suspiciously like 'You don't want to know' and she shook her head and gave him a half smile. In the meantime, Vernon and Mr. Weasley were debating—Vernon seemed to be torn between whether he should let Harry go or not.
'He wouldn't want to lose his personal punching bag,' Harry thought grimly.
"Go ahead and take him. Get him out of my way," Vernon Dursley finally exclaimed and then said, with a hiss, "But get out of my house now!"
"Ginny, go help Harry get his trunk," commanded Mr. Weasley, and they set off up the steps to Harry's room. Harry took care to kick a bloodied shirt and a few stained strips of fabric he'd been using as makeshift bandages out of view. They finished gathering his things and headed down the stairs after he emptied the space under the loose floorboard.
When they reached the top of the stairs they heard Mr.Weasley talking to Vernon.
"I hope you've been treating Harry well," he said to Vernon coldly, "Surely Dumbledore told you of the events at the end of the year. The poor boy has been through enough."
"What I heard was a load of shit about hocus-pocus and lunatics blowing each other up. Not my fault the boy turned into some delinquent. We've done our part." He turned towards the stairs, shouting, "Hurry up. I haven't got all day, boy."
Mr. Weasley clutched his wand tightly, as if he had been resisting the urge to use it on the other man for awhile. Harry was afraid he'd curse Uncle Vernon. Harry didn't care much for his uncle's wellbeing, but he certainly didn't want Mr. Weasley to be in trouble with the ministry. Harry hurried down the stairs with his trunk while Ginny carried Hedwig's cage.
"Come on Harry, Ginny," Mr. Weasley said. He pulled out his wand and waved it. With a few accompanying words Harry's trunk immediately disappeared. Harry followed Mr. Weasley and Ginny to the car, conscious of them glaring hard enough at Vernon to fry the portly man.
"Wow," said Harry as they climbed into the car. "Where did you get this from?"
"Dumbledore helped a bit. When we were finally given permission to come and get you, he had some specific safety cautions due to You-Know-Who's return," said Mr. Weasley. "We're trying to keep too many people from finding out you left Privet Drive."
"Oh," said Harry, and turned to Ginny, who was next to him in the back seat. "So how has your summer been?"
"Fine, but we've been worried about you. We never got any answers to our letters. We were about to come and get you, whether Dumbledore agreed or not," Ginny said to him.
"That would be because of this," he replied grimly, pointing to Hedwig's pad-locked cage.
"Couldn't you reply using our owl?" asked Ginny.
"A barred window doesn't exactly make it possible," he said trying to ignore any worried glances aimed at him by either of the Weasleys.
"Oh," she said, not sure what to reply to this.
They rode along to the Weasleys', sitting in silence for the most part. By nightfall they had reached the Burrow after driving on swerving back roads and taking many scenic routes.
They pulled into the drive and Harry bid Mr. Weasley and Ginny goodnight before he walked upstairs, dragging his trunk. When he walked into his friend's room Ron slept on, not stirring at all. Harry climbed into the cot that had been prepared for him, exhausted. He drifted off without giving much thought to anything. A strenuous activity such as thinking could wait for morning. His eyes blinked shut and, for the first time in weeks, he slept without nightmares.
~*~*~
Disclaimers:
-The first few sentences are taken for an excerpt of the beginning of book five which I found on an ad somewhere. Figured it'd be neat to add that in the beginning.
-I do not own the song featured above. You can ask Suzan Vega about that one.
-The Potter-verse isn't mine, obviously. I just like to play with it sometimes and torture characters mercilessly.