Previously titled A Twisted Path.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Harry Potter.

Chapter One, Blackmail

The car thundered down the lane at high speed, scenery whizzing past the windows in a blur. Only flashes of colours could be seen from inside the passenger seat window, but Harry didn't seem to mind. His gaze strayed out of the window, not seeing the grey pavements and gravel roads vanishing into a distant blur, but just, seemingly emptiness.

Behind them, a car honked loudly.

Uncle Vernon swore and made a rude gesture at the driver, before pressing down even harder on the accelerator.

Raindrops had started to fall by now, thick and fast, and mist was starting to blur the windscreen and the side- mirrors as well. Uncle Vernon swore again.

"What's fog doing here in the bloody middle of summer!" Vernon said aloud to no one particular, thumping his fist angrily on the steering wheel. Having the trouble to drive and pick up Harry from what he deemed a non- existent Platform was souring his temper, not to mention the rain was just making everything worse. His boots were soaked, through.

Harry didn't reply, though he knew perfectly well why. Dementors were swarming around, here in London, free of the Ministry's control. Voldemort was behind it, all over again, and didn't it just seem like there was no winning this time? Harry felt completely and utterly hopeless; a heavy weight pressing down on his heart.

He had, once, foolishly thought it might actually be possible. That he, a mere boy could defeat the Darkest Lord of all time. Only when his mentor, the only one he could rely upon to guide and teach him the way to victory, was gone- defeated again, by the hands of an enemy- did he realize how hopeless a case it had been, from the very start. He shouldn't have began this journey, this fight against the Dark Lord... how many had been sacrificed, for this seemingly aimless course?

His parents. Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore.

But what had they achieved?

Ten minutes ticked past; in a haze of colour and confusion... he did not have an answer.

"BOY! Get down from the car!"

Harry raised his eyes slightly; he met Vernon's wide, angry, bulging ones... they were already in Privet Drive. Lowering his gaze, he opened the car door and started the tiring process of dragging out his trunk.

He arrived at the familiar wooden door, his hair still slightly damp from the rain- his tired hands still tugging at his stubborn trunk. He walked up the steps pushed his luggage in through the door, before entering himself.

"Back from the freak school?"

Barely had his feet crossed the threshold when the familiar taunting voice sounded again. He was tired; he didn't want to have anything to do with the Dursleys just yet. Not now. Not when everything in the world seemed hazy, confusing- he couldn't think straight. He lifted his emerald eyes to meet the speaker's, before he stopped.

Dudley... was different. Physically. Still plump, but not quite so- only slightly. Which was alarming. Where his cousin had five chins, now he had two. And Dudley's shirt was hanging off his frame.

"Dudders has worked out this summer, together with his friends," Petunia gushed proudly, in answer to his unasked question. "Isn't he such a handsome boy now, with his muscular body build?"

Harry looked away, managing to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"I'm completely in awe," he returned.

He reached down to lift his trunk, struggling to ascend the stairs to the confinements of his room, where he slammed the door shut and lay down on his bed.

The next afternoon found Harry cleaning Uncle Vernon's garage, a muddy cloth in hand, the damp chilly fog still clinging about his clothes. It didn't feel like summer; indeed, it felt as though it were nearing winter... but Harry didn't mind. He didn't care, really. It could seem as though the world were too, mourning for the loss of its greatest wizard in history.

"BOY!"

Harry glanced up to see Uncle Vernon stomping over, his face livid with purple fury. Wondering what had got into his uncle this time, he stood up to face Uncle Vernon.

Upon approaching his nephew, however, Uncle Vernon drew back his fist and punched Harry in his face.

Harry reeled back in shock, unable to process what was happening. His eyes snapped towards his uncle, his face stinging in pain.

Vernon's mouth was pulled into a thin, grim line. "You are coming with me," he growled menacingly, before grabbing Harry by the scruff of his neck and pulling him roughly forwards. It didn't have much of the desired painful effect, though, as Harry had grown a lot taller over the last year, and was almost taller than his uncle, which made him harder to grab.

Still, Harry allowed himself to be dragged out of the garage, before Uncle Vernon reached the door and pushed Harry in, violently. The younger of the pair stumbled slightly, but did not fall.

Harry glanced up to look at his uncle, who was breathing heavily. Moments passed in silence, before Harry's anger got the better of him. "What have I done now?" he snapped, his emerald eyes narrowing at his uncle.

"You filthy brat, you dare insult me with more of your lies!" shouted Vernon furiously, reaching out as though to hit Harry again. Out of pure instinct, Harry ducked out of the way, which caused Uncle Vernon to lose his temper and reach for the nearest object available- Petunia's vase.

"What-" began Harry, before he was forced to duck out of the way as the vase came somersaulting in the air towards him. Deciding he wouldn't risk his head just to catch it, Harry swerved out of the way, and the vase went crashing onto the floor, smashing promptly into a thousand pieces where he had been standing a few seconds ago.

"What the hell was that about?" Harry shouted back angrily, bewildered, and feeling a slight stir of fear in him. He had never seen his uncle this violent before- shouts, slaps, a few kicks- fine, but throwing Petunia's things about?

"Give it back," snarled Uncle Vernon, a dangerous growl that made a shiver run up Harry's spine.

"Give what back?! If you're going to confront me about it, at least do both of us a favour and spit out the problem!" Harry shot back, his mind racing through possibilites, but drawing a complete blank. Uncle Vernon advanced again, and Harry was forced to sidestep to avoid the sharp pieces of broken vase on the floor.

"Hand - over - my - money," growled Vernon, his eyes now red, his face turning a scary shade of white. Harry backed away, slowly, his mind still reeling. Money?

"What money?!" he demanded, voicing his own thoughts. "I haven't taken a penny from you since I-"

Uncle Vernon growled, or roared- Harry wasn't sure which was it. He lunged forwards to grab Harry's neck, but the Seeker ducked under his uncle's arm and hopped backwards, before hissing in pain. A crimson stain was now spreading over the floor, from the wound where a shard had stabbed his foot.

"I KNOW YOU STOLE IT!" Uncle Vernon shouted loudly, days of caring what neighbors thought about him long forgotten at the prospect of Harry stealing his money. "You will give it back, boy - or I shall kill you with my bare hands."

There seemed to be a mad gleam in Uncle Vernon's eyes as he said that, which made Harry uncertain whether his uncle would really carry out his promise.

"Three hundred pound notes," tutted a different voice, suddenly, at the doorway. Harry whipped around to look at his cousin Dudley, who was watching him with a bemused expression. Harry couldn't help but notice how unnaturally un-fat Dudley was now. "That really is a lot of money, Harry... give it back."

Vernon looked up at the sight of his son entering the house. "How did you know, son?" he said, pointing at Harry as he glanced up at Dudley.

Dudley's eyes gleamed. "'Cause I saw him pocket those notes yesterday," he said in a smug voice, smiling as he did so. "Wondered where he got it."

If possible, Vernon got even angrier, his veins on his forehead throbbing so madly Harry was surprised they hadn't burst yet. Harry's eyes snapped to Dudley's smug smile, his sudden slight figure... the dark circles under his eyes...

There was no way he could win this, nor prove anything, he knew. Not when Dudley was giving supposed evidence, when Uncle Vernon had already suspected Harry of stealing money.

"I swear, I haven't taken anything," Harry said quietly, though he was looking straight at Dudley. "I only returned from school yesterday. But if you must insist-" he said, in a louder voice this time to cut across Uncle Vernon- "I shall give you your three hundred pounds... on the condition you bring me straight to London tomorrow. I need to get my money and convert them into Muggle cash at Grin-... the wizard bank."

The last two words did nothing to soothe Uncle Vernon's fraying temper.

"How dare you!" Vernon yelled at him, seizing another ornament on the spot to hurl, "You insolent little brat, do you think by stealing my money you'll get to blackmail me into giving you another drive to what's this-"

"Fine! Four hundred pounds! Whatever you like," hissed Harry, angrily, his magic starting to bubble dangerously despite his self- control. Uncle Vernon started back, so did Dudley, as all of a sudden, Harry's eyes seemed to be a darker shade from his usual emerald.

He didn't think he could hold back his instinctual magic anymore; it seemed to be bursting out of him; he knew, if he lost his temper, he would be causing a great deal of accidental magic too. At this thought, Harry promptly turned to move towards the door, but Uncle Vernon spoke up again, loudly.

"I know you stole my money, boy- don't think you sound so convincing just because you offered compensation!"

Harry merely ignored him and walked out through the front door, only to see a white- faced Aunt Petunia staring at him, her eyes wide.

Harry lay on his bed as he inspected his still- bleeding foot. A side of his face still stung from the blow, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

His eyes drifted automatically to Hedwig's cage, but it was empty- as it had been since he let her out yesterday night for a little fly. For some reason, she had not returned.

Harry stared out of his small prison hole blankly, allowing the cool mist to enter through his window, swirling around his room. He watched as the bright sky slowly began to darken. As twilight faded into the background, he was still staring out of his window, his eyes staring yet unseeing, into space. His thoughts were a jumble, drifting from Uncle Vernon, to Dudley, to Dumbledore's falling figure, Snape's outstretched wand, Voldemort's snake- like features, looming in, closer and closer...

Thud. Thud, thud THUD!

Harry's bedroom door vibrated so violently he thought it might fly off its hinges. Thinking that it must be Uncle Vernon, he bounded off his bed to open it... only to pause slightly at the doorway, and glance back at his battered alarm clock.

It was already twelve o' clock, midnight. Didn't Uncle Vernon usually sleep at eleven?

THUD!

"Open up!" growled a voice outside, in a slight imitation of Uncle Vernon's.

Harry sighed and leaned against the door, unrelenting. "What do you want, Dudley?"

"I want to talk to you," his cousin replied.

Harry immediately grew wary. "You're doing that right now."

Dudley slammed his fist into Harry's door again. "Open up right now!"

"I thought you said you just wanted to talk?" Harry sniped back, immediately resolving not to open the door for Dudley to enter.

"I want to talk... in private," began Dudley again, his voice lower than usual.

"No one is eavesdropping, Dudley. If you want to talk, just talk- if you don't, fine," Harry said, moving to retire to his bed, before Dudley's voice suddenly grew cold, more menacing- as though it were someone else talking.

"Open the door... right now," the voice on the other side of the door growled. "I have a deal, cousin, and it would be of your best interests to hear me out."

Harry didn't budge, but a chill definitely crept up his spine. What was up with the Dursleys?! First Uncle Vernon, now Dudley. Quickly checking to see if his wand was in place, ready for him to seize and threaten Dudley if the need ever arose- Harry slowly walked over towards the door, and against his better judgement, yanked it open.

He came face to face with his cousin.

Now that he was up close, only did he realize just how different Dudley looked. His eyes were wider, and looked haunted, and dark... His face had suddenly grown thin, and the dark circles beneath Dudley's black eyes were even more prominent than before. Harry drew a breath, slowly, as his cousin gave him an unfamiliar lopsided smirk and walked past Harry, into the room.

For a moment, there was a pause- as they appraised each other with thinly veiled hatred- and on Harry's part, wariness, before Dudley spoke up, sneering. "I know you never stole the money," he began.

Harry's eyes flashed. "And I know you did."

Dudley grinned, but it wasn't his usual taunting one, it seemed... crueler, somehow. "Of course."

Fingers clasping his wand out of pure habit, Harry spoke, "Give it up, Dudley."

His cousin merely looked at him, and smiled, broadly. "Give up the game, cousin dear? But why do I want to do that, this is so much fun. Watching you suffer, as I get what I need..."

"Drugs," said Harry, loudly, abruptly, that Dudley shot up with a speed he never knew his cousin possessed, a dark glint in his eyes. But Harry was faster- he whipped out his wand and pointed it straight at Dudley, his heart beating fast at the confirmation of his words.

"Before you get any ideas, may I remind you that I can take you apart with little more than a word," Harry said coldly, forcing down an expressionless mask on his features to mask his jumble of emotions at this revelation. Dudley however, merely barked a short, harsh laugh.

"Still brandishing the stick about, Potter? I could break it with my bare hands in a second."

"And I could break all your bones with this stick in a flash," countered Harry, his wand still aloft. When his cousin showed no sign of moving away, Harry snapped. "Back off, Dudley. You said you just wanted to talk. I don't want to fight you."

Dudley's eyes hardened, before he finally backed away a step. "The deal," he began, instead, his eyes fixed on Harry menacingly. "I want you to withdraw all your money tomorrow, from the wizard bank all whatever you call it. This will save both of us lots of trouble in the future..."

"And why will I hand over my money to you?" Harry questioned coldly.

Dudley laughed, another harsh bark of laughter Harry had never associated with his cousin until now. "For someone bright enough to figure things out... you really need to ask this question? Let's just say I'll just steal dad's money again and frame you for doing it. Then you'll need to repay him all over again, with compensation, and who knows, maybe he'll beat the guts out of you in the process. So why not we play nicely, eh? You pass money directly to me. That's all."

"I'm having nothing to do with this," said Harry with a finalty in his voice. "I'm already moving out after this summer, and we won't be seeing each other ever again."

Dudley lost his smile suddenly and advanced on Harry again, who immediately lifted his wand towards Dudley for the second time that night.

"You will do as I say," said Dudley with barely hidden anger. "You will give me the money tomorrow."

"Just ask your father for some, I'm sure he'll give it to you," said Harry, narrowing his eyes.

"Too many times and it'll be suspicious, see? There are only a few excuses one can come up with," Dudley replied, still not backing down. Just then, there was a loud whistle, far below in the garden. Dudley immediately snapped up, his eyes widening slightly in recognition.

Harry's gaze immediately strayed to the window, but Dudley made no move towards it. He merely sent one final glare at Harry before moving to exit the room. "Make sure you have the money tomorrow," he added, "Or we'll make your life worse than hell."

Harry let his cousin step pass, his eyes lowered on the floor.

"You're killing yourself, Dudley," he said.

His cousin merely paused at the door and looked back, that alarming grin on his face once more. "Don't you worry about me… perhaps you should start worrying about yourself. I'm not going to die... not before you, at any rate."

And Harry could only watch, as Dudley walked out into the darkness.

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