From Within

Co-written by Followthedarke and Jhoy.

The yellowing gardens of Private Drive indicated that another heat wave was hitting England. The sun shone down relentlessly burning the grass. The air held the stench of decaying garbage and rotting foliage, but no one was around to smell it. The only sounds in Little Whinging were of TV sets and murmured chatter. Occasionally a warm breeze would sweep through the empty streets rattling loose gates and the odd pinwheels left out in a few yards.

At night the sounds differed slightly. Dogs bayed at what seemed to be nothing and the sound of their human owners coming home from work could now be heard. Car doors slammed, leather soles crunched on asphalt and then front doors were quickly closed before the sound of a number of locks were fumbled, latched and bolted closed. This racket was repeated over and over until everyone believed that they were now safe in their own home.

Very few inhabitants of Little Whinging knew the real larger reason behind this fear. One of those inhabitants was Harry James Potter, an unwilling resident of number four Private Drive. Number four Private Drive was remarkably identical to its neighboring houses, except for a whale of a boy who was currently striding down the garden path. He taps his meaty fist against the mahogany front door twice before a bony hand shoots out and tries to drag him into the house.

Aunt Petunia struggled to pull him in, as Dudley had once again failed his diet. He somehow spectacularly managaged to gain another stone. Aunt Petunia deftly slid the security chain home and proceeded to lock the multiple locks on the door once she had him inside. By the time she returned to the sitting room, Dudley was on his second packet of crisps. She stood there and watched him until he looked up at her and continued to eat what was his hand. Instead of starting a fight that Aunt Petunia knew she didn't want to win she picked up the news paper she had abandoned and sat back down.

After a brief period of dramatic sighs and disapproving tutting, Aunt Petunia rose from the floral monstrosity that dared to call itself an armchair. She tossed the newspaper into the ever growing pile beside the waste bin as she walked into the kitchen.

Harry looked up briefly from where he was on his knees scrubbing the tiles and reached out to snag the paper. "DEATH TOLL UP TO 32" the headline seemed to scream at him as Aunt Petunia drank a glass of Chardonnay from a bottle she kept in the refrigerator. Harry frowned and put the paper back onto the pile he took it from. Surely the ministry had noticed something by now. The muggle police were saying it was a new serial killer targeting their village for some reason, but Harry knew better. He had seen flashes of mad curly black hair disappearing around corners. He knew the death eaters were taunting him. Trying to draw him out and have him come to them. To do something rash. But if Sirius' death had any purpose, it was to teach Harry to think before he acted. So that is what he has been doing. Thinking.

Ignoring the ache in his knees and lower back Harry went back to thinking and concentrating on cleaning the tiles. His "dinner" was in the fridge and if the job wasn't adequate, he wouldn't be getting his meager rations.

Just as Harry was finishing up his body aching chore in the furthest corner of the room banging was heard on the front door. Uncle Vernon's booming voice demanded that he be let in accompanied his continued pounding. Harry didn't have to look up to know that Aunt Petunia had gotten up since her scurrying to comply as her heels made quick, short contact with the floor as she made her way to the front door. The man flounced into the kitchen leaving dusty foot shaped prints on the newly cleaned tiles and flopped into a chair next to the dinning room table. Harry forced down the rage that he started to feel in his chest and silently went to clean the mess he was now presented with, since he knew he would be made responsible for it.

Uncle Vernon looked disappointed that his obvious bait hadn't caught Harry attention in the way he wanted. At having being denied an opportunity to possibly shout at Harry, instead uncle Vernon launched into a speech about how they were not going to giving into this serial killer's scare tactic.

"We are going shopping tomorrow as a family," he said. "Dudley needs some new pants. I could do with a new suit for work and I know that you, my dear, have had your eye on that new tan coat that you saw being advertised in the weekly," Uncle Vernon concluded as he grinned at Aunt Petunia who had a look of awe on her face as he looked back at him. Dudley's attention had already been transferred back what he was now eating.

Harry looked on disgusted at the scene they presented. No one would be surprised if the woman started in on a round of applause for the barrel of a man and what he had just said. Harry knew that when Uncle Vernon said "family" it didn't include him, but he didn't care.

Having the house to himself would be perfect, Harry thought as he got up from the floor and stretched his bent back causing it to pop and grate with each new movement. He stiffly made his way to the fridge and grabbed his dinner that was covered in saran wrap. Tonight's dinner would be the last of the lasagna from two days ago that he would have to reheat and eat with a glass of water. He saw no salad and chips and no lemonade. He wasn't allowed to drink any of Dudley's soda pop and besides that, there was only the Chardonnay and two beers belonging to Uncle Vernon.

Harry was aware that he had lost quite a bit of weight once he was back with his aunt and uncle, but there was little he could have done about it and he other things he needed to work on that were a bit more pressing. After the microwave pinged, telling him his not so fresh meal was ready to be consumed, he made his way up to his room with the plate in one hand and a cup of water in the other. Harry sat down on his bed and brooded while he slowly ate until her heard hedwig flap her wings against her cage.

He placed his meal, that he was in no rush to eat at the moment, on the overflowing bedside locker, and opened the door for his owl to hop out unto his arm. He took her to the window that was already open and petted her head before opening it even wider.

"Have a good hunt Hedwig," Harry tells his owl before offering her up to the great outdoors. He stayed at the window for a while as he watched her fly away in search of her own meal. When the owl turned into a speck in the black of night he turned back to his slightly cooled dinner and dug in thoughtfully. Tomorrow he would be putting his plan into action and after tomorrow, one way or another, he would never have to see these people that he was forced to call family ever again.

A/N:

In the UK we measure in stones and pounds. In America a stone is equivalent to 14lbs (6.4 kg).

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