Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood on the house's path, waiting for his arrival. Lord Voldemort was not far away. As he grew stronger, Dumbledore felt him more and more. Suddenly, Voldemort's presence was overwhelming, and Dumbledore casted an overpowered Disillusionment Charm on himself, as well as strengthening the already formidable wards.
Lord Voldemort himself stepped into the tiny courtyard, radiating confidence so powerfully it was almost arrogance. He stepped forward with long, silent, strides, and Dumbledore cancelled his charm.
Harry Potter jumped awake with a start, his sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead, breathing heavily. His cupboard was barely big enough for him now, especially with his growth spurt. As he painfully sat upright, wincing as the cuts on his back were pulled, he pressed his forehead against the top of the tiny space. He sat awake, eyes closed, gently swaying, for hours - having nothing to do, or, indeed, nothing to do anything with. The flashes of color were unfocused, but they were the most pretty thing he had seen in a long time. The vibrant, throbbing lights were more beautiful than Aunt Petunia's dying begonias, her spotless lawn, and even the red-haired woman he remembered only from his dreams. As he swayed like a pendulum, all his troubles seemed to float away, until…
"Boy! Wake up!"
Aunt Petunia, as usual, calling him to breakfast. Whatever faults he had with his abusive guardians, at least they fed him well, if grudgingly. He expected it had something to do with 'keeping up appearances'. What would they neighbors think if oh-so-perfect Petunia and Vernon had a delinquent in their house, or, heaven forbid, an abused child?! Peer pressure was a wonderful thing, Harry reflected, as he had so often in the past. His chores were always done inside, his homework was always done, perfectly, by him and then proofread by the two adults. He even had his own bedroom - although he was never allowed to sleep in it unless Vernon and Petunia had someone over.
"That's ten." came the calm voice of 'Uncle' Vernon. He never raised his voice, but it cut right through the rest of the noise in the house like it was louder than a jet engine.
Harry winced. Only a few minutes up, and he was already ten lashes down. He would have to work hard to make that up. Of course, he could choose not to work, but he was still feeling the products of his rebelliousness after weeks, and he had no desire to repeat it.
"Twenty, boy, and if I can't see you in ten seconds, it's forty."
The soft hiss floated down the hallway, and Harry scrambled out the tiny door, crawling on hands and knees. At twelve, the cupboard was feeling less like a closet and more like a sardines' can. He jumped up and ran, sliding into the bright kitchen right before his internal clock hit seven.
"Three seconds early - but twenty lashes is already over six hours of work…"
"Better get cracking," said Aunt Petunia, with an almost bubbly voice.
Harry scarfed down his Continental breakfast before 'reporting for duty'. Years of good feeding and constant activity had given him a hard, lean, frame that made menial tasks significantly easier.
Uncle Vernon casually turned a page of the newspaper, and for a moment, Harry thought he saw the words "The Daily Prophet" before the real title, The Surrey Comet, snapped back into place. While Harry hadn't said a word, Vernon sighed, racking his brains for ideas of works and finding none, looked up.
"You've already done all the chores in the house today" overruling Harry's quiet noise of protest, finished "but you can ask Ms. Figg on Wisteria Walk. I'm sure she'd… love to have you help."
Harry, in his fancy leather coat and black slacks, trudged down the empty road. The baking sun was even hotter than usual, now that it was late July. The air was humid and stifling, and Harry felt like he was being choked. When he arrived at Ms. Figg's house at exactly 9:00 AM, it was almost worth the cat stench to be allowed in out of the heat. Ms. Figg smiled at him, a toothy grin that scared him almost as much as Uncle Vernon's.
"What can I do for you today, dear?" she said.
"I have an open day today, and I thought I could come over and help you around the house," Harry responded.
Of course, Ms. Figg had no idea that Uncle Vernon whipped him, but she had her suspicions that he made Harry come to do work. She tried to get him to sit down, but Harry knew better. He pressed her until she let him work, cleaning out her old cabinets, finding oddities such as 'Skele-Gro' and 'Every-Flavor Beans'. He brushed out her cat beds, and cleaned out her litter boxes, until six hours had passed, when he took his leave after saying goodbye. Uncle Vernon would know if he hadn't been polite.
After another walk home, he collapsed on the sofa in the foyer. He allowed himself a few minutes of rest before visiting Uncle Vernon again, who was sitting in the same chair as before, reading the same newspaper, on the same page. Vernon turned the page, and placed the newspaper down, looking at Harry intently, his stare freezing Harry in place. After a few moments, he nodded to himself, and spoke.
"You've worked off twenty, and your behavior was good enough that Ms. Figg doesn't suspect anything. Spend the rest of the day working on your homework, and I have something for you after supper."
Harry obeyed instantly, wondering what the 'something' was. Last time, it was new clothes, which fit him perfectly. As he left, he wondered, as he always did, how Vernon knew he was telling the truth. He chuckled sardonically to himself, remembering when he tried to lie to Vernon about the work he did. Of course, his Uncle knew he had been frollicking at the playground, and gave him a hundred for lying.
He only had a few hours before supper, and he needed to start an essay. He dipped his quill in the ink pot and wrote on the standard letter paper in perfect handwriting. For some reason, Uncle Vernon insisted he used a quill, and since neither Petunia nor Harry saw any reason he shouldn't, Harry willingly obliged.
After three hours precisely, Harry straightened his back, and stood up, just before Uncle Vernon called him down to supper.
Harry scarfed down his dinner, almost choking. Uncle Vernon stared at him for several tense seconds, but let Harry go without consequence. He knew Harry was excited, it had been months since He gave Harry a gift - last time it was his favorite leather coat, and this time is was something of even more consequence.
Harry finished his balanced meal - Uncle Vernon never let him leave without finishing something of everything - vegetables, meat, bread, milk. He suspected Vernon wanted him healthy, but didn't realize why. He pulled his chair closer to the table, leaning on his elbows, forgetting his manners.
"That's five… But I'll put it off until tomorrow."
Harry jumped, suddenly sitting with a straight back. Vernon sighed, a genuine smile crossing his face. He brought his hands above the table, laying them with a piece of paper between his hands.
A letter. The rich parchment had an elaborate seal on it, addressed to Mr. Harry Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, Number 4, Privet Drive.
"Who is it from?" asked Harry, wonder creeping into his voice from his first piece of post in his life.
"The premiere school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, Harry - Hogwarts - even your parents and me didn't make it in. They went to Durmstrang on their 14th birthday, but you're going to Hogwarts!", almost singing the last word. Harry suspected, if his uncle wasn't so against displays of emotion, he would do a victory dance. Vernon settled down. "It's going to be brutal, Harry, and that's why I am going to prepare you for the next 25 months before it starts on September 1st next year. From now on, one lash can be worked off by 15 minutes of practice with me in Legilimency, Occlumency, or normal magic use."
A million questions raced through Harry's mind. He knew about wizardry, of course, because Vernon had told him the instant he first started accidental magic. However, what he didn't know was that Vernon was a wizard, so he started with that.
"You're a wizard? I thought you worked at Grunnings, and that's not magical, is it?"
Vernon looked slightly uncomfortable. "I am a wizard, and an accomplished one too."
Harry felt that there was nothing more he should really know. Aunt Petunia must have known, because she was Lily's sister, and Vernon had said Lily was a witch. Harry shrugged, but sat there, waiting to be dismissed. Vernon looked like he wanted nothing more than to start teaching Harry, but he respected Harry's sleep. Harry needed to be strong, with what was coming for him.
"You're dismissed. Get some sleep, and I'll wake you up early in the morning."
Harry scrambled out of the kitchen, and walked to his cupboard opening the door, and beginning to slide it.
"Boy! I've decided, as a reward for making it into Hogwarts, you can sleep in the Smallest Bedroom."
Harry almost choked out his response. "Yes, Uncle!" He scampered up the stairs, almost on fours, and collapsed on the first mattress he would ever sleep in.
Harry woke up precisely at 6 a.m the next morning, and was completely ready for his first day of magic practice with Vernon. He crept down the stairs, careful not to make any noise - Uncle Vernon always liked it if he was quiet, like a cat. It was much better if he did what Uncle Vernon liked.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nearly ran into Uncle Vernon, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Vernon smiled, a genuine smile, a smile almost like a father to a son, and beckoned Harry to follow him. Vernon walked into the unused garage (the car was kept outside) and Harry gasped. The room was huge - the size of a castle's entryway, or the main chamber of a cathedral. The stained-glass windows provided color to the otherwise gray brick room.
Vernon smiled, showing off his creation, and bragged about its features - albeit in a completely even tone. "This entire room is made of Chris Crumpet's Unbreakable Bricks, and the windows and doors are small and few enough for Unbreakable Charms."
Harry walked to the center, spinning slowly.
Vernon continued to speak. "I will be here all day, except meals, and you can do work with me any time. You are allowed to choose your discipline, but the more you work on one discipline, the longer it will take to earn back a lash. Over there, next to the door, are the current times it will take you to earn one back."
Harry walked over to the space indicated, staring at the wide paper that seemed like it was directly built into the wall, and read it.
This is what it said:
Occlumency - 15 minutes - The defense of the mind against Legilimency.
Legilimency - 20 minutes - Attacking another's mind.
Apparition - 20 minutes - Teleportation
Dueling Practice - 20 minutes - Fighting magic with magic.
Ancient Runes - 20 minutes - The ancient language of magic and how to use it.
Offensive Charms/Transfiguration - 25 minutes - Learning new attack spells.
Defensive Charms/Transfiguration - 25 minutes - Learning new defensive spells.
Useful Charms/Transfiguration - 30 minutes - Spells that are used in everyday lives.
LASHES TO WORK OFF: 20
Questions raced through Harry's mind before he organized his thoughts and settled on one.
"20? I thought I only had five lashes."
Vernon turned, and told him that Harry was now starting the day, automatically, with 15 lashes. He continued speaking, telling Harry that each time he completed an activity on the list, the time required to pay off a lash would increase by 3 seconds.
Harry processed the information, and decided there was only one more question to ask.
"When do we start?"
Harry sat cross-legged on a soft mat, working to empty his mind. It seemed to be especially easy for him, as he had done it before, during whippings and when he was stuck in the cupboard. As his mind cleared, he felt the same sensation he had this morning. The colors seemed to be separating, two appearing at once, less bright than before. Harry opened his eyes, keeping the colors as the only focus in his mind.
Uncle Vernon sat across from him, staring into his eyes, and Harry felt a push. He breathed too deeply, becoming distracted, and focused on the push instead of the colors and emptiness.
Suddenly, Harry's life was flashing before his eyes. His first year of school, when the neighbor Piers Polkiss followed him home from school and tried to beat him up, only to break his hand on Harry's back. He began to travel further back, to when he was three, and Vernon told Aunt Petunia to get an abortion.
"We don't need another kid stealing out of the mouth of this one" - that's what Harry remembered him saying.
Even further back he traveled, to that fateful night on October 31th, Halloween when he was only a year old. He stared as the red-haired woman - Lily, her name was - fall to the ground in a green flash and saw the terrible white face turn towards him. He saw the cruel smile and red eyes, the triumph visible in the horrible face as he raised his wand. He felt the crippling fear of the Dark Lord.
"ENOUGH!" Vernon yelled, pulling out of Harry's mind, leaving his thoughts scattered. He turned away jerkily, leaving Harry to recover. It took a few seconds before Harry could think again, and he turned towards Uncle Vernon, who was shaking.
"Uncle Vernon? You okay?"
Vernon didn't respond, for fear his voice would give him away. He wiped the tears quickly, and cast charms to hide the puffiness and the wavering voice, masking it with the usual dispassionate facade.
"Yes, boy. Your defenses seem… adequate, but you need more discipline and focus. I recommend practicing more on your own and with me. Remember, I am always available to practice. That's enough to earn off one lash. You take a break now, but come back soon."
As Harry watched, the big number twenty on the wall vanished slowly, to be replaced by a 19. The time needed to work off a lash for occlumency increased as well, to 20 minutes and 3 seconds.
Harry walked out of the room backwards, keeping an eye on Uncle Vernon. It was not until he left the room that he began to ponder what it was about Lily that affected Uncle Vernon so strongly.