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Chapter 1: A Humid Day in Little Whinging
Lily folded up the unfinished letter into a paper airplane and threw it across the room, falling into the Harry's -the recipient's- cradle. There were so many words and things to say, but she didn't know how to form them into sentences let alone a meaningful explanation. She might as well retry tomorrow. Today, after all, was Halloween and Lily wanted to spend it with her family.
13 years, 9 months and 1 day later:
Harry sat legs spread on a park bench reading that day's copy of The Daily Prophet. His messy black hair shaded his green eyes while still managing to stick up in every direction as he flipped through the pages reading each article about his maniacal tendencies and proclivity for lying. He didn't know whether to laugh or be mad as both felt like perfectly reasonable reactions. It really was comedic to him: Rita slandered him at every opportunity and he was up to date on every word she printed. Otherwise, nothing in the newspaper reported any knowledge or even tidbit of information about Voldemort. Fudge must still be denying the inevitable.
The golden curls in the sky had turned to a blanket of navy blue half an hour before. Harry narrowly avoided getting beat up by Dudley and his little posse while he was strolling a bit ago. Harry just picked up his legs and let them lead eventually coming upon an ill-attended garden that was supposed to be a nice park, but had been torched by the heatwave. The grass died and pavement felt like it was going to melt the bottom of his shoes. He was alone.
Earlier that summer, the Dursleys made an executive decision that Harry should maintain the garden, cook four meals a day, clean the bathroom, wash the dishes, polish the furniture, wax the floor, vacuum and be grateful while doing everything. It was only fair seeing as how the boy was such a burden on the poor Dursleys. He came into their house and rudely took up space, even commandeering Dudley's second bedroom. Well, if the boy wanted to stay, he needed to earn his keep. It was the correct course of actions considering the troublesome circumstances. As one would presume, Harry was not as content with his lot as the Dursley's were. As he toiled away weeding the dead lawn, Petunia would sit on the couch and primly watch the television. He would glare at her through the window, breathe in through his nostrils, and continue doing housework muttering jinxes he wished he could cast.
After Harry finished his daily chores, He slipped out of privet drive and bore the heat in order to not get a second list of chores he had to do in order to get dinner. If he wasn't quick enough, his aunt would catch him at the door and hand him a slip of paper filled with more housework -a terrible tragedy that was- and he couldn't have even have a moment of peace and quiet before his aunt would screech and snap at him to get a move on. That day, Petunia was watching the TV in the air conditioned living room and barely noticed Harry as he tiptoed out the front door with the newspaper in the back pocket of his jeans. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry closed the door and anticipated several hours to himself away from his horrible family.
Harry was now perfectly content in the crispy park he found himself in. He could loosen a button of Dudley's old plaid shirt and recharge from the unsurprisingly exhausting task of existing in the same area with the Dursleys. He had some peace and quiet so long as no one dared to brave beyond their air conditioned houses in the easy bake oven that was Little Whinging and Harry was fairly certain that nobody would.
Harry put down The Prophet and took a thoroughly unsatisfying breath of humid air. Merlin, Harry felt off. There was something out of sorts within him. Harry had finished reading the Prophet and there wasn't much else to do this late at night, but it felt far too early to return to the Dursley's house. Well, time to reread some articles. When he looked closer at the image heading the article about the new store that opened in Diagon Alley, there was a blur in one of the shop windows. Harry put his glasses at the end of his nose and held the newspaper up to his face to get a closer look at said blur. There wasn't much he was able to discern so he pushed his glasses up and set the paper down on his lap. He looked around and felt miniscule icicles stabbing him on the back of his neck repeatedly. His breath shimmered white in the air. Harry mechanically turned his head around to see the horror behind him. It was a dementor.
Harry slowly stood up and slowly breathed in and out to calm his heart rate and emotions down. It wasn't working as well as Harry hoped; His left arm was rattling in fear and his brain felt tingly. The dementor directly behind him made no moves towards or away from Harry. He turned around and looked at the scene behind him: two dementors staying still with their garments waving despite the lack of a breeze. There they were hovering above the ground with their wispy hems almost grazing the brown grass. Their boney hand lay to their sides. The one right in front of Harry looked up and lifted the angle of his head allowing Harry to steal a glance beneath its hood. Where there should have been eye sockets was nothing; just black. It's circular mouth was right below it wide open. The two bore their eyes or lack thereof at one another. Not a breath was heard while the staring match continued. Earth stood still.
The second one creeped closer to meet the first one where it hovered. Harry took a step back and the Dementors didn't budge. Everything was silent. What was going on? Harry had a hurricane that pelted his stomach with a barrage of fear so why weren't the dementors doing anything? He should be soulless by now. He should be a shell. Why were they unmoving.
The second dementor swiveled its head to the left and it body followed in that direction quickly following whatever it had found. The first dementor shadowed the second one out of the park and down the streets of Surrey. Harry watched them go. the temperature rose to intolerable levels and his breath was once again translucent. Thank god they were gone.
Harry gasped and widened his eyes. Dementors don't just disappear; they are attracted to human souls and there was inevitably an innocent soul wandering around the streets of Little Whinging this time of night. They locked onto one. Harry pulled his wand out of his pants and dashed off in pursuit of the two dementors.
The dementors had a head start so for a while, Harry was playing catch up as the pair sped off to their first victim of the night. Round boulevards and crosswalks the three of them went in order to reach the wandering muggles first.
From three blocks down the street, Harry saw a group of teenage boys huddled around one another. Found them. From far away they were a bunch of blurred shirts and fuzzy faces, but as Harry sped up to warn them. They turned into recognizable flaps of skin and douchey t-shirts. The blurred faces and bodies became, most unfortunately, Dudley and his gang.
Harry sprinted the last bit towards the group.
"Harry's back come for a beatin' now has he?" Dudley sneered with his pudgy, ugly lips while towering over Harry. Dudley looked back at Piers, flicking his head up as a signal. The gang started approaching Harry.
Harry had no time for their stupid antics and bullying.
"Leave! Leave right now! Scatter in any direction! Run away or they'll get you" Harry threatened waving his arms in sweeping motions
"Is the big bad wolf coming or somethin'?" One of the unimportant members from the back yelled.
A chill came upon the area. Harry pulled his wand at the ready. His knees were bent and his shoulders in knots.
"Harry pulled out a stick! What's he gonna do wi' that? Tap whatever's 'coming'?" Piers asked guffawing at scrawny little Harry looking so serious prowling around the area holding a stick like it was a revolver. Dudley wasn't laughing.
The two dementors drifted around a coffee stain of a house to approach the gang. Harry stared at them in horror.
"He must be mad. Sayin' some'ins coming then staring off. Your family have just put him in the mad house you should have done. There's no help left for him," Piers cackled while Harry tried to break up the group.
One of the dementors glided in the middle, turned his face to Dudley and raised his boney hand to Dudley's shoulder. Frost glistened on Dudley's shirt.
Harry lifted his wand at the dementor and thusly at Dudley. Dudley flinched and his friends laughed at him. The dementor lifted Dudley up by his jaw and into the air. His friends weren't laughing now. The gang froze jaws hanging open looking at their poor friend drifting in the air several feet off the ground. The dementor lifted its head and held it next to Dudley's.
"Run!" Harry yelled.
They scattered in different directions. The second dementor followed Piers into the streets.
Harry glared at the offending dementor, took a deep breath and let his hate and fear wash away into love and happy memories. He thought of dinners in the main hall where he, Hermione, and Ron would laugh over something inane while two thirds of the group procrastinated on homework. He thought of riding on a broom and the feeling of mastery he got. He cast the patronus charm. Dudley schlumped to the ground and coughed embracing the unpleasant warmth. The dementor backed off wary from the charm.
Dudley was fine for now, but Piers definitely was not. Potter dashed off in the direction that Piers fled praying that the Dementor next to Dudley would be wary enough to ignore him for the time being. Harry zipped past streets and boulevards following the trail of ice the dementor left. The frost led him to an adjacent neighborhood. Piers was held up on the front of a house next to the outdoor sconces. Piers' face was deathly white. The dementor leaned into the poor boy's face ready to kiss him. Harry stood far away with his wand arm outstretched. He remembered happy thoughts of friendship and merrymaking to let out his patronus from within. The Dementor rammed into Piers from the force of the charm blasting at the pair. It fell down and stayed there from the force of the impact. Harry grasped Piers hand and pulled him into the middle of the street away from the malevolence of the dementor. The world warmed itself up.
"Can you get home?" Harry asked looking into the worn out eyes of the other boy.
"Yeah," Piers replied exhausted.
"Run. This the Patronus won't last for too much longer while I'm not around,"
Piers nodded slowly and took off in a half hearted jog. Time to get back and save Dudley. The escapade with Piers took longer than Harry was counting on. Harry passed several landmarks he remembered from his mad pursuit of Piers' dementor. Finally he reached the intersection where the dementors first approached Dudley's gang. Dudley hung in the air supported by dark magic and the foul creature that caressed his face. Dudley and the dementor were interlocked at the lips. They clung onto one another; Dudley in fear of falling and the pain that would come if he backed away and the Dementor in pure euphoria. After several seconds, the dementor let go and out from Dudley came a tiny blue iridescent dot. It shone and lit up the gloomy night despite its owner being dead in the eye and spirit. The dementor opened its mouth and ate Dudley's soul. Sensing no more snacks, the dementor left full for the night.
Dudley cried an ugly wail that reverberated and made some houses turn their lights on from the garish noise. The pair stood there in silence and in shock while the moment seeped into their brains. Eventually Dudley stopped crying and sat motionless on the ground. He wouldn't move even if Harry prodded him and tried to pull him to his feet. The night warmed up, but Harry didn't enjoy his respite from the cold. He felt drained and there was a deep pounding in his temples. A stumbling man with bloodshot eyes approached them.
"Potter. There you are. I've been lookin' everywhere for ya," He said slurring his words.
"Go away." Harry replied morosely.
"Right. Forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mundgundus Fletch-"
"I don't care who you are; just go away,"
"But I'm-"
"Leave" Harry stated with a not of finality.
The man sulked away and Harry took a breath. He and Dudley couldn't simply sit here all through the night. Harry grasped Dudley's forearm and pulled him, however reluctantly, to standing. Harry let Dudley flop onto his back with Dudley's arms hanging over Harry's shoulders. Harry grasped the meaty thighs of Dudley and carried him piggyback style to his home.