The drive back from Kings Cross was eerily silent, Vernon was sat in the front saying nothing while they cut through the capital's roads. Nothing was said, not until the words out were hastily said and Harry dragged his trunk from the boot.
"Vernon," his aunt greeted as she embraced her husband, something she did not often and Harry wondered just how innocent this hug was.
"Phone's dead, to the left, being watched," he heard whispered words and he turned around to see a man walking by with his dog, an elderly type who looked like he couldn't do any harm if he tried. Maybe they thought he was a wizard or something, Harry didn't care and instead hefted his trunk up the stairs and towards his room.
"Dudley!" Petunia called and Harry briefly overheard part of conversation which involved Dudley departing to a friend's house, though he still didn't care and Harry just laid back in his bed. Thinking about Sirius, the prophecy, the battle and everything that had happened over the year, wondering just how he would be able to cope with it all. Though he couldn't help but smile when he realised at least Umbridge wouldn't be bothering him anytime in the near future. However as his thoughts slowly began to consume him, a conversation started just a floor under him, one between two cautious, worried voices.
"Vernon it was one of them," Petunia whispered, her eyes darting around their sockets as her neck slowly twitched. They were in the living room, Petunia sitting, Vernon half sat half stood but that was not the unusual quality about them. No, what was strange was it was the middle of the day but the lights were all switched on, every single one. Giving the green carpeted room a distinct glow and blinding quality, though that was exactly what the two wanted.
"Of course it was," Vernon muttered stuffing tobacco into a pipe, he inhaled deeply.
"It's failed, the plans, the precautions, everything. They know." He decreed upon exhale and looked out of the window. His eyes narrowed and they suddenly held a fire that had not been seen in twenty years. He stood up and glared out of the crystal window and onto the darkening grass; it lay unmoving on the windless, silent day. Though the sun was setting and very soon night would fall.
"This is no coincidence," Vernon declared after another puff "It seems that everything has been for nothing, my dear."
"I didn't think that it was mere coincidence. Vernon we need to leave." Petunia began obviously worried, dread had entered her voice.
"I agree, Dudley's on his way out?"
"Yes, someone will pick him later. They won't think twice about him, hell they might even get off on the idea of him being an orphan." Petunia snarled as her husband blew a cloud of smoke into the air. He smoked only when he was nervous, something he had not been for a long time. Of course he had to pretend, over the years both of them had been forced to pretend. Thankfully those times were at an end.
"I know." Vernon commented but after a slight pause moved to continue. "We haven't got long before they decide to attack, ten to one that man was a scout. I would load up the car now but eight to one; they have an ambush on the road ahead." He continued through a whirring brain.
"So what do we do? Defend? If you remember the last time we had this sort of scare you had to lock the house down. Put bars on the boys windows."
"It wasn't them, though I doubt bars would keep an attack at bay. No we need to get the hell out of here. The phone's are down and I have a strange feeling that if we go to a neighbour, well they'll be here within a minute."
"So what do you suggest? We can't run or call so what?" Petunia inquired and Vernon despite himself smiled.
"We fight them here, first they'll circle us, then they'll move in. I saw we fight them into the basement, lock it and then use the passageway out." Vernon continued with narrowed eyes. He had seen something.
"We better get ready then," Petunia muttered with the faintest trace of a smile. With swiftness that defied her form she moved over to the marble mantelpiece, moved the small presiding clock to the side and pressed down on the concealed button.
The wall above the mantle suddenly clicked and Petunia pressed down upon it hard, with that touch it slowly creaked open and an assortment of weapons revealed themselves. Knives, guns, a number of smirked objects and in the middle was a large, iron axe which Vernon Dursley hefted up from its position. He had not held it in some time. Though it fit into his hand like a glove and in that same second he was younger, slimmer and angry. His wife plucked a crossbow which had been next to the axe, flanked by knives on all sides.
"Vernon," Petunia began holding the weapon which felt a hundred times heavier than it ever had.
"I know, it's been a long time but we haven't got a choice. Right, turn the lights on, make some flares and get ready to run."
Later
It was dark when Harry was roughly shaken awake by his frantic looking aunt, her giraffe like neck swaying as she shook him. He made an incompressible noise as light flooded the room. It was eleven and his aunt was fully dressed and looking, worried.
"Get up, dressed and pack a bag. Only things you need and let the bird go." Petunia instructed swiftly looking out of the window warily. Harry frowned, wondering what the hell was going on and if there was any need for this behaviour.
"What?" he questioned sleepily.
"Get up, dressed and back a bag now!" his aunt hissed pulling him out of bed with strength which defied her late middle aged body.
"Why?" he asked simply as she turned to leave the room. For either the sake of modesty or to continue patrolling the hall, something she had been doing for the last hour.
"We're under attack." She answered swiftly and Harry assuming death eaters and not stopping to think obliged. As time passed however he wondered just how his aunt would know about that and more importantly if this was actually an attack and not some attempt to force him out. He paused and eventually went out, to see his Uncle hammering planks of wood into the front door, with an axe at his side.
"What's going on?" he asked dangerously, were they trying to lock him on or were they throwing him out. Though why would his aunt say it was an attack? Why were they boarding up the house? The questions kept coming.
"Ahh Harry," Vernon began looking up, using his actual name for the first time in years, "Good you're ready." Vernon picked up the axe and in a flash Harry had his wand in his hand; Fearing the very worst.
Though his Uncle dropped the axe and with a grin spread his palms, he had nothing in them.
"Good, good. Caution, I like it." He began being nice for the first time ever. Harry looked at him as if his face was melting, this was just not happening.
"Put the wand down, come on Harry. If I wanted you dead I would have axed you in your sleep." His uncle pointed out and Harry, slowly lowered his wand but did not hide it away.
"What's going on, why are you?"
"Yes we owe you an apology, yes we've been acting and yes to everything else. Blah, Blah, Blah can we save this for when we're not under siege?" his uncle barked. Siege? Harry frowned what was going on and quickly slid down the stairs, avoided the axe, and went into the front room. Nothing was outside.
"What the hell are you playing at?" Harry roared angry, after everything he had been through they would stage something like this! Something so petty, it was ridiculous.
A flash of red caught his attention outside. A literal flash that vanished in a blink and yet Harry moved over to the window. His eyes darting around for the source and yet he could see none. There was no red, no colour at all in fact. Nothing was outside. Though he was so sure he had seen something. So gently he put a hand on the glass to look closer. The grass was still, the street was dark and the night was silent. Deathly silent.
Then a pale white hand appeared matched his on the opposite side and two glaring red eyes beamed into him.
He never saw the face; it was gone in a heartbeat but he leapt back.
"They're here." Vernon muttered, had he been in the door way the entire time? Harry didn't know or care.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded, obviously shaken.
"That'll be the enemy." Was all he said, though before he could speak again a loud creak was heard from the door. Acting as one both uncle and nephew moved to the door. Petunia was on the stairs and raised a heavy looking crossbow, her eyes unblinking.
A thud rocked the door. It creaked while the heavy wooden slabs Vernon had nailed to the door shuddered with the impact. Another followed, then another.
"It'll give in," Harry whispered but his uncle shook his head. His eyes alive with a passion Harry had never seen while Petunia aimed her weapon and prepared to fire. The knocking continued and echoed through the house. The door just kept moving. Splinters were slowly coming lose and to Harry it was slowly bending. Then it stopped.
"Very slowly, move towards the basement." Vernon instructed his voice a whisper and Harry dared not question. He moved towards the door right next to the cupboard he had lived in for all those years. The door opened, a tiny audible creak followed.
The front room window exploded into shards and Harry flung the door open while his Uncle pushed past him to get the living room. Harry couldn't resist a look.
"What?" he asked and saw the old man he had seen upon arrival. The same wrinkled face, pale skin and frame but this time he had changed. His eyes were blood red, his skin infused with a blink tinge while his fingers were curved like claws and his nails became blades. Though they were nothing compared to the razor sharp fangs which filled his mouth.
It was a twisted version of reality, an old man with a brown jumper and white shirt bore the fangs of a beast. His ironed back striped trousers shone with the gleam from his claws while a flat cap cast an endless shadow over his deathly white face.
The man snarled and Vernon swung, though his age betrayed him and by the time the axe had reached where the man had been, the creature had ducked and moved behind him with unseen speed. His eyes sparking with raw hunger and his claws were ready to tear into his meal.
A rush of air suddenly froze him and the man's face looked up, a twisted mix of disbelief and a crossbow bolt stood out from his chest. Right by the heart, it wasn't enough to kill but the axe which cut his head clean off was. The old man's body fell back and his head rolled away.
"What.." Harry began but never finished, the sound of a hundred windows breaking. Upstairs and from the back room,
"Inside." Petunia ushered her nephew into the basement and Vernon followed, slamming the door shut behind him. He held it in place, his weight now an advantage.
"Take him!" Vernon bellowed, turning to them with the full force of his strain in his eyes. Petunia and Harry froze.
"Petunia take him!" the man roared again and yet nothing happened. Petunia mouthed something that Harry never picked up on.
"I know, but he's more important right now. I can hold them off, get out of here. Please." Vernon half begged and in that second he had never looked weaker.
"Harry, I'm sorry." Was the last thing he ever said to his nephew. Then as his wife dragged a section of wall to the side and ushered Harry into the small revealed crawl space, he spoke with a touch of endlessness.
"I love you Petunia Dursley." Harry never saw what happened next. His aunt had replaced the section of wall and he was suddenly forced to crawl. The sounds of metallic clanging, snarling and eventually tearing haunted him all the way.
"Push hard on the end." Petunia spoke in a quieter voice after a few minutes had passed. She knew they wouldn't be safe for long and the moment the tunnel had started to incline she heard the noise. They were dragging the hidden stone.
"What is going on?" Harry asked pushing as he was told, another stone block he supposed and he was then shocked. Truly this time. He was in the garage of Number Four.
"Quickly." His aunt muttered as Harry tried to question. Why were they here and not escaping, why did the tunnel lead to somewhere so pointless? It wasn't face, in fact it was... unthinkable.
"What the hell?" Harry asked as a flash of red appeared from the tunnel he never knew existed. His aunt closed it then.
"We needed to get them all in the passage, in the house. They have no idea where it leads, we were supposed to send a signal here but..." Petunia's voice trailed off. A strange look came across her.
"Promise me something," she demanded and Harry for the first time in his life trusted her. He nodded and the woman smiled slightly. A defeated, saddened smile.
"Look after Dudley,." She ordered and those were the last words she would ever say to her nephew who ran back into the house and jumped out of the shattered window. Petunia meanwhile stood, her back to the car which had been the seat of so many family outings. She thought of her son and then as the stone slab was roughly pushed to the side she narrowed her eyes.
"Where is he?" a voice demanded, she had no idea who but she laughed and took Vernon's pipe out of her pocket. She had picked it up, then she got a match, lit the pipe and dropped it.
"Burn." She hissed as the trail of petrol beneath her feet lit, spread towards the car, the fuel tank.
Harry felt a force on his back and a flash of burning orange fill the air and he turned to see Number Four collapsed. There had been an explosion and then he knew, his aunt had blown up the car and the explosion had burned the tunnel. The house lost structure and both his relatives and the evidence was buried.
"Harry!" A voice called from seemingly nowhere and Harry suddenly realised he was in pain. Then he laid back, tired and darkness closed in.