Disclaimer: Harry Potter and such belong to J. K. Rowling. The lyrics are Dry Kill Logic's. I own nothing.
Chapter Seven
Freaks
The
laughter starts to fade
And I remember falling victim again
And
I feel the pain won't let me forget
And I cannot let this get in
my head
And I... the last chance
One more try
Final
straws
And goodbyes
The laughter starts to fade
-'No Reason' by Dry Kill Logic
The world around Harry swirled with multitudes of different colours and shapes, all dancing and blending together. One hand tightly clutched his luggage and dragon, the other was glued to the old can. He shut his eyes against the raging blurs, and within a few seconds he felt himself land in a disheveled heap on the cold cement. Looking up, he took the offered hand of Dumbledore's cool and collected form, and stood up. Grabbing his strewn items, he followed the aged man closely down the silent Muggle street they had arrived on. The houses were all still as the summer night air, shadows cast upon hidden crevices from where the streetlights hit. The only sounds discernable from the surrounding silence were a distant dog barking, a very soft rustle of bushes, and their own echoing footsteps. The calm, orderly, and overall cool aura emitting from the unfamiliar place he was in made Harry feel highly uncomfortable and a bit intimidated. Tightening his hold on the red plushy he was holding, he picked up his pace in order to follow Dumbledore more closely.
Dumbledore's pace slowed to a light walk when they came to a house much like the others along the street, but with a large, black '4' posted on the mailbox. The two walked up the asphalt driveway to the large, wooden front door. Harry's small form looked up at the tall man as he wordlessly racked his hand on the door. A few seconds of quiet, rustling bushes were all that were heard, until a commotion of stumbling feet came from the other side of the door. It quickly opened.
Harry barely got a glimpse of the tall, boney woman, before he and Dumbledore were quickly ushered inside, "Well, what are you waiting for? Come in, come in! Quickly now, before the neighbors see." The woman peered outside the doorframe to look around, before pulling her head back in and shutting the door tightly.
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he laid them on the horse-like woman in front of him, "Ah, Petunia. It seems like years since we last met my dear."
"Yes, maybe to you, but the ash I'm still trying to clean up from your appearance in our fireplace a couple days ago proves us otherwise," her pale eyes narrowed.
The aged man gave a chuckle, "I'm sorry about that, I didn't realize I had left you a mess. I could clean in up if you'd like?" He began to reach for his wand.
"No, no! I don't think that will be necessary, I can do it myself," she uneasily stared at the place Dumbledore's hand had been drifting to.
He smiled. "Alright. Now, if we're done here, would you mind showing Harry and I to the living room, where we may finalize his stay?"
Although she didn't seem extremely pleased about it in Harry's opinion, she nodded and gestured for them to follow her. They walked into a room just beside the foyer they had been standing in. The room was a tad impressive, not from the size or anything like that, but from the organization of everything. Nothing seemed to be out of place or unclean, and the furniture and décor was in descript, yet very tasteful at the same time. Sitting on the long, beige sofa, sat a stern-looking and unhealthily large man, and what appeared to be his son, although Harry was sure 'baby beluga' would have done the description much more justice.
The bushy mustache of the large man wiggled as he spoke, "Dumbledore," he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment in his direction, "And this must be the boy," his slanted, beady eyes narrowed a bit as they landed on Harry's small form. Controlling the urge to step back, Harry looked down.
"Yes, this right here is Harry Potter," the aged wizard placed a hand on the small shoulder. Harry continued looking down.
"Very good, very good…," the man's gaze drifted back to Dumbledore, "Now, since we covered pretty much everything there is to cover last time you were here, I see no reason for you to be in our home longer then needed. So let's just cut to the chase. I believe you mentioned some sort of…cheque, for looking after him," Harry glanced up at the man, and noted the slight look of hunger in his eye. When Dumbledore removed the white envelope from his cloak to hand over, the beefy man even stuck out his tongue slightly, wetting his lips in anticipation.
"I believe I did too, Mr. Dursley," he offered the cheque for the large man to take. When it was snatched from the aged hand, Harry had to blink; he didn't know it was physically possible for someone so large to move so quickly. "There should be enough there for you and your family to continue to live comfortably for quite some time, with your new addition to the household," Dumbledore explained. The wide and dazed smile covering the other man's face made it quite evident that he wasn't listening.
The boney woman peered over the man's shoulder to see the amount, and a similar smile of greed appeared across her own features. Looking up, the smile quickly changed to one of blatantly fake sweetness, "This was very kind of you Dumbledore, but you know it wasn't necessary. It's our pleasure to take care of our little Harry, here," It was pretty obvious that that was a far cry from the truth by the way her husband's clouded eyes still stared at the small paper, a small bit of drool forming at the side of his mouth.
Nevertheless, she walked over to where Harry stood and put her hands on both his shoulders, leading him over to where the rest of her family sat on the couch. Harry's back remained stiff the whole time. The fact that the majority of his physical touch from the past year or so was when his Daddy hit him, combined with the overall unfriendly demeanour of his Aunt, Uncle, and cousin put him on edge.
Once she was back standing behind her husband at the couch, she gave him a discrete nudge, knocking him out of his mesmerized state. Looking up, a smile that was, if possible, even more phony then the one of his wife's, was plastered across his walrus-like face.
"Yes, this was very generous of you, thank you very much. We'll be sure to take care of our little Harry here as if he was one of our own. I mean, he is family after all," the man's beefy hand reached out and mussed Harry's hair in what he assumed was supposed to be an affectionate way. Controlling the urge to distance himself as far as he could from these people, Harry looked down.
"I can see that Harry will be in good hands," Dumbledore smiled.
"Oh, he will be, don't you worry," his Aunts hand was on his shoulder again. Harry shuttered, although doubted anyone was able to notice.
"Now that that's all settled then, I'm going to have to take my leave. I hate to go so quickly, but there is much to be done before your sister and the rest of her family goes into hiding tomorrow, as I'm sure you all understand."
A lump formed itself into Harry's throat at these words. Dumbledore was actually leaving him with these people. This wasn't some morbid dream that he was going to wake up from. This was reality, and as soon as the aged wizard stepped out of that front door, it would be final.
But even as everyone rose from the couch and walked the man to the door, Harry didn't protest his stay. He said nothing. The only thing muttered from his tiny frame was a small goodbye when Dumbledore bided his farewells, promising to return in a couple months time to see how he was adjusting. And then the man was gone into the night.
Harry was finally alone with his newly discovered family.
The falsely sweet atmosphere couldn't have ended more quickly.
The large man was towering over him within a second.
"You listen here boy, and you listen well," he spat. Taken aback by the man's abruptness, Harry stumbled back, tripping himself and falling down onto his rear. The man responded by gripping the front of his shirt and lifting him up, so they were now face to face, "While you are staying in this house, there will be rules, and you will follow them. I don't care what you could get away with doing while you were with your freaks-of-parents; I don't want any of that shit going on in my household. No freaky incidents, no mysterious, unholy acts, no nothing. If I hear that any, any of that…that magic was done while you are staying under this roof, you better hope it was to summon a first aid kit, because you'll need it after I'm through with you," he shook him roughly, emphasizing his point, "Do I make myself clear boy?"
Still completely shocked by the difference he was seeing in his Uncle, Harry shakily nodded his head, "Y-yes, s-sir."
"Good," the man gripped tighter to his shirt, and lifted the boy's small frame so that his feet just barely brushed the floor they were dangling above. It was becoming difficult to get air to his lungs, which seemed to bring Harry back to his sense. He started struggling against the death grip, kicking his legs, banging his arms against the hold, gasping. This just resulted in his Uncle's hold becoming even tighter, more painful.
Walking over to a door under the staircase that his Aunt quickly opened, his Uncle threw him roughly inside. His head hit the back wall hard with an unhealthy 'smack', and his small body fell to the floor.
"There'll be many things for you to do around this house while you stay here, and you'll be expected to work for what we so generously give you. While you're not performing the tasks we give you, you'll be staying in here. Clear?" His Aunt stared down at him.
Harry nodded thorough the stars that were still dancing through his vision.
She leaned in through the short door and pointed, "Light. Pull this if you want it to work," she demonstrated by tugging on the skinny rope, turning the light on and off again, then pointed to a bundle of sheets and a pillow on top of a skinny and long cushion, "Bed. You'll be sleeping here," she then pointed to a bucket pushed off to the side of the small space, "Toilet. If you have to do your business in the middle of the night or any other time you're being kept in here, that's where you do it, understand?"
"Y-yes, Aunt Petunia."
She didn't acknowledge his words, but simply stepped back out of the small cupboard. Coming up from behind her, his Uncle tossed the belongings he had arrived with into the Harry's new 'room', and shut the door with a slam. A clicking noise was heard, indicating that he was now locked in.
Taking a deep breathe from the sudden silent darkness, Harry quickly crawled over to where his Aunt showed him the light was, and pulled the rope. A dim light filled the small room, illuminating the few things that were in it.
Harry's breathe was now heavy, the thoughts of what had just happened flying vigorously through his mind, one barely distinguishable from the other. Barely controlling the soul clenching cries that wanted to fall from his mouth, Harry allowed only silent tears to fall from his eyes while he looked for his red Dragon. Not finding it right away, his hands started to shake, a panic beginning to rise from his chest. Then he spotted the red plushy lying on it's side, beside the bucket his Aunt had pointed out. Quickly grabbing the toy, he scuttled up on to the mattress, back pressed into the corner it was lying in, and tightly wrapped his arms around his inanimate friend, burying his face into the red softness.
Needless to say, it was a long time before his body finally stopped it's shakes, and sleep finally claimed him.
A/N: Yay for updates! Boo for the length of this chapter. I know, I know, it's short. But I thought it was a good place to stop.