Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related tidbits still belong to J.K Rowling, and I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally hope it stays that way; that lady is the best. Addressing the sheer amount of borrowing I've done from the actual text, this is a super loose adaptation/borderline AU; I'm literally writing with the book open right now; it's the best chance I've got right now of mimicking the storytelling style without this coming off as something completely foreign feeling and unreadable trash (not to say it's not already there, lol).
Anyways, hope you enjoy?
Author's Note: Mmmhmm, those muffins smell like they're almost done…
Chapter 2: Snap
Harry Potter considered himself to be a reasonably intelligent person. Admittedly, there were certain… grey areas… of his magical education thusfar that he'd been less than attentive to.
Like History of Magic (it wasn't his fault that stories about 18th century Goblin insurrections put him to sleep!)
Or Potions (in his defense having an instructor who seemingly had it out for him, lightly put, did impede academic success to a degree, but at least he got on a fair bit better than Neville did… most of the time…)
Or the majority of 4th year…
…
Okay, so maybe Hermione was a large proponent of why Ron and he weren't still stuck in 2nd year. That didn't mean he was stupid.
However, in this moment…
"….Wha?" Harry profoundly articulated.
"He left!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands in agitation. "I'll flay him alive! How could he be so plainly irresponsible?! Following Dumbledore's orders or inquiring after a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom, which is more important?!"
"Dumbledo-"
"I told him not to go, I did, but now look's what happened! Dementors! Thankfully Mr. Tibbles was on the case, much more reliable than that blithering fool Mundungus! I will kill him!"
"Mr. Tibb-"
"We haven't got time! Hurry, we've got to get you back! You!" she shrieked at Dudley, still comatose on the alley floor. "Get your arse off the ground and move!" she commanded, grabbing his arm and shaking the offending appendage.
However, the encounter had seemingly left Dudley quite debilitated, as the encouragement of their neighbor failed to stir him in the slightest. Harry begun to move towards his beached cousin with some slight apprehension, namely questioning what in his wiry frame would give him the power to accomplish this sudden feat of strength, but stopped suddenly, reevaluating Mrs. Figg.
Looking back at Dudley's still unresponsive form, Harry dispelled his musings and refocused on the situation at hand.
"You should go and contact Dumbledore immediately." Harry said neutrally, walking past the not-so crazy cat lady and propping Dudley up against the nearest wall, after which he turned to her, smiling slightly "Pretty sure I can handle it from here."
Returning his attention to Dudley, upon closer observation, Harry realized with a modicum of concern that his cousin did not look well. In fact, now that he was kneeling beside him and there was better lighting, from the clenched jaw, erratic eye movements, full body tremors, and ashen complexion, it almost appeared Dudley was hypothermic.
"We've got to hurry up, they could be back at any-" Mrs. Figg started.
SLAP
"Dudley, you've got to listen to me, do something to let me know you hear me." Harry said, wincing slightly at the force applied to Dudley's check.
"Are you even listening to me?!" Mrs. Figg bellowed, now back to wringing her hands, nervously looking about. "We must get you back to your house!"
"I get that, but how are you helping right now?" Harry asked, preoccupied with looking for some sign of conscious response from the bipedal SeaWorld escapee. "I've already broken the statute on Underage Sorcery, the Ministry knows I used magic, and if this is anything like last time they'll have probably responded to it by the time I can get him home. The only course of action that could improve the situation any is to get Dumbledore up to speed AS SOON AS POSSIBLE." Harry finished, finally sparing Mrs. Figg an exasperated look.
'Not like he doesn't know already.'
Freaking sentient Merlini and their blasted omnipotence.
She was still standing there, looking rather exasperated herself.
Harry sighed.
Fortunately, his attention was diverted by a moan, causing him to look back at his cousin, who was now looking at him with clouded, unfocused eyes.
"I'm going to make this as fast as possible: Crazy wizard biz just happened, we're okay now, I'm going to carry you home, but you need to stay awake. Got it?" Harry asked.
"mmphmm"
"Nice."
'Just how close did he come to being Kissed?'
'Also, note to self: Start carrying chocolate on person at all times. At best I look cool like Lupin, at worst I have a snack.'
'Also note to self: Start working out more?'
'Note to self: Too late.'
Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved: With enormous effort, Harry managed to get Dudley in a walking assist position and began walking in the direction of Privet Drive. Mrs. Figg standing behind them rooted to the spot, looking beside herself.
'So Dumbledore's having me followed.' Harry thought to himself, attempting to distract himself from the burning sensation already emanating from his limbs (not turning out to be all that effective). 'That's neat.'
Unfortunately for Harry (and by some extension Dudley), this new train of thought was derailed by the arrival of a new party.
One that decided to Apparate directly underfoot.
"MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
'can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe'
"'S' up, Figgy?" a squat, unshaven man with straggly ginger hair and an aura of stale tobacco and alcohol addressed the furious woman from partially submerged in the impromptu human dogpile. "What 'appened to staying undercover?"
"I'LL GIVE YOU UNDERCOVER, YOU USELESS SKIVING SNEAK THEIF!"
Harry, having freed himself from beneath his human boulder of a cousin, bore witness to what, under normal circumstances, have been absolutely hysterical; his neighbor/newly discovered minder was now beating this Mundungus fellow senseless with a string bag, which was presumably filled with cat food.
…
Okay, it was hysterical right now too.
"WHILE YOU WERE OFF BUYING STOLEN CAULDRONS, HARRY HERE WAS ATTACKED BY DEMENTORS!"
"Dementors? Dementors here? Oouuuff!"
"YES, HERE, YOU WORTHLESS PILE OF BAT DROPPINGS! DEMENTORS ATTACKED THIS BOY ON YOUR WATCH!"
"Ouch-gerroff-gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!"
"YES THEY HAVE! AND IT HAD BETTER BE YOU AND YOU CAN TELL HIM WHY YOU WEREN'T THERE TO HELP!"
"Keep your 'airnet on! I'm going, I'm going!"
And with a loud crack, he vanished.
"Ohh, I hope Dumbledore murders him!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg furiously. "Now come on then, I'll take you to the door."
'Wait what was I doing before… Oh shi'
After completing another major test of strength, Harry began a fruitless attempt to match pace with the middleaged neighbor while on their way back to what would undoubtedly be a very troublesome situation.
"So," Harry panted, hoping her pace would slow down with conversation, "You've…. been a…. witch… this whole time?"
"Goodness no, I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth am I supposed to help you fight off Dementors when I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag?"
'Well that explains a lot actually'
"Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib? All those times I came round your house, why didn't you say anything?"
"Dumbledore's orders."
'Figures…'
"I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it."
"It wasn't easy, you know…." Mrs. Figg trailed off, then stopped, turning back to look at Harry. "For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry you have to suffer with this."
Harry kept walking (he didn't want to lose precious momentum), but responded to Mrs. Figg with a shaky smile.
"It's all water under the bridge for the most part now, only two more summers of this and I'll be free to live how I please." Harry said confidently, though upon realizing they'd stopped just shy of Number 4 Privet Drive, the smile faltered.
'Providing I survive this encounter, amongst others.' He thought fatalistically.
"I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough." Mrs. Figg provided, turning to walk away.
"I'm going straight home," she continued. "I'll need to wait for more instructions, and in the mean time I intended to brush Mr. Prentice. Just stay in the house. Good night."
Mrs. Figg plodded off in her carpet flippers, string bag clanking.
Harry continued staring at the door impassively.
'Now, to get my story straight.' Harry thought as he rang the bell, dread quickly building in his gut as the outline of Aunt Petunia grew larger and larger until finally the front door finally flew open.
"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite….quite…. Diddy, what's the matter?"
In that searing second Dudley projectile vomited across the doormat and a good portion of the threshold.
"DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"
'That's not gone well.'
A man with a mustache much akin to a walrus' hurried to the door, Harry quickly ducking out from under his arm, allowing his aunt and uncle to guide his cousin through a pool of his own sick and into the kitchen, door slamming behind them.
Having already cleared the stairs, seconds later he was in the guest bedroom he occupied, trunk already magically open, floorboards where he kept his textbooks flying up. Homework, various texts, Broom Maintenance Kit, and the scrapbook given to him by Hagrid at the end of his first year, thrown without any semblance of order into the trunk.
'It's fortunate Hedwig's out hunting right now, won't have to worry about the cage…' Harry's mind was a whirlwind of activity, estimates on how much time he had left before the Ministry would be addressing his breach of protocol, what he could and could not leave behind, the situation downsta-
"BOY! COME HERE!"
'…..'
After placing the picture of his parents he kept on his bedside table inside, Harry closed the trunk, positioned it and the Firebolt racing broom given to him as a Christmas present from his godfather near an now unlatched slightly ajar window, turned, gave a quick, reassuring squeeze to the worn holly handle of his wand, sticking out of his right front pocket, and with a sickening finality that had long since been forming a pit in his stomach, walked to the top of the stairs. Carefully avoiding the sick, and with mingled feelings of dread and anger, he walked into the kitchen and braced for impact.
At that precise moment Harry walked into the kitchen, an owl swooped in through the kitchen window, narrowly missing the top of Uncle Vernon's head, dropped a large parchment envelope it was holding in its beak at Harry's feet, then zoomed outside once more off across the garden.
"OWLS! OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!" roared Uncle Vernon, the well-worn vein in his temple pulsing wildly.
These proclamations fell deaf on Harry, who was already pulling the letter from inside the envelope, his nerves fraying in real time.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. As you have already received an official warning for a previous offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 A.M. on August 12th.
Harry read the letter through twice, still unable to fully comprehend. He felt icy and numb. No Hogwarts? No more magic?
Then his brain kicked in.
'How am I supposed to fight without a wand?!' Harry thought incredulously. Though he had yet to test this theory, Harry figured it was safe to say conventional Muggle weapons wouldn't be effective against the Dark Lord, so unless there would be a permanent detail of Aurors dispatched to protect him (which would suck immensely), his only option would be to run and fight alone.
He was really starting to regret not paying more attention in school now. Not that he was a slouch, but he'd probably missed out on a portion of magical education during his…. other pursuits…
Sobering thought aside, he began turning and leave, but-
"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME BOY?"
"Not really, you were saying?" Harry returned flippantly, turning back around to fully face the enraged man standing in close proximity.
The tension in the room exploded instantaneously; from Vernon, a hot, humid, stifling aura radiated from the entirety of the man's body and filled the room, causing a sharp intake of air from Petunia, who'd been situated hovering over the collapsed Dudley, the latter giving a small moan.
Harry's nerves reached critical; resurfacing of old subconscious/maybe not so subconscious desire to hex his uncle into oblivion amongst other pressing concerns of the evening coming to a head, his vision tunneling directly into his uncle's eyes as unconscious intent boiled intensely beneath.
Suddenly, several nearby lightbulbs flickered quickly and subsequently exploded. The necklace Petunia was wearing suddenly broke, falling to the floor with a multitude of clattering as beads began to run across the floor in every direction.
"What have you done to my son?" Uncle Vernon menacingly growled, overwhelming agitation reigned enough by the display to form words again.
"I prevented his soul from being sucked out?" Harry responded glibly, an internal wince following after the unwelcomed wit issued forth in full. 'That's not untrue…'
As Harry turned again to leave, Uncle Vernon, moving with surprising agility for a man of such girth, threw Harry back roughly by the shoulder towards the center of the room, his new position blocking the doorway to the threshold.
"Where d'you think you're going?" yelled Uncle Vernon. "I haven't finished with you, boy!"
Harry remained silent, his face a stony mask.
"You can't pull that one on me!" snarled Uncle Vernon. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"
"Look he'll be fine soon, promise, it's just that-"
Harry was cut off, via headlong projectile barn owl, resulting in laying both parties on the ground.
The bird, recovering first (likely spurred due to Uncle Vernon's anguished yell of "OWLS!"), returned to the kitchen window.
Harry-
Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry, and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND.
Uncle Vernon, no longer the center of Harry's attention, took advantage of the moment's musing by grabbing Harry's shirt and thrust him violently against an adjacent wall, scattering broken picture frames and cracking the plaster, pinning his forearm over his throat-
"I WANT THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED TONIGHT!" roared Uncle Vernon, his spittle showering Harry's face, fragments of phlegm running down his glasses…
Yeah about that.
'THIS FUCKING BASTARD…!'
Harry visage darkened as aggression consumed him, coherent thought dissolving into berserk instinct and the desire to kill.
It was then Uncle Vernon's eyes widened in fear, the feeling of a thin rod pressing roughly into his jugular freezing him in place.
A deep chill ran through the room as power cut from the house, leaving the interior in complete darkness save stray beams of moonlight pouring in through the kitchen window. Each successive second stretching longer than the last as Aunt Petunia stared blindly onwards utterly aghast, unable to move, speak, or think in absolute terror.
'Kill him now!'
'Kill HIM Now!'
'KILL HIM NOW!'
'STOP! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING RIGHT NOW?!'
Harry's ragged breath was all that could be heard, his scar exploding as the haze slowly dissipated from his mind.
"…..Let go."
Uncle Vernon's arm retracted.
Both parties fell to their knees, bodies shaking with adrenaline. Moments later, the fluorescent incandescence flickered back, rendering the room fully visible again as Petunia realized she need to breathe.
Still panting on the ground, Harry idly realized that somewhere in the confrontation the left lens of his glasses had acquired a single jagged crack down the middle, obscuring his vision. Squinting, he pushed back into a sitting position, attention turning towards his still recovering uncle.
"Dudley and I were attacked by magical creatures called Dementors, which I repelled with magic illegally. The owls are the fallout.''
Uncle Vernon rolled himself into a sitting position against the wall, and focused on Harry, breath still coming in short bursts.
"And how do we know that's not a load of rubbish?" he growled. "What's this codswallop you're on about?"
"Dementors guard the wizard prison, Azkaban."
Harry and Uncle Vernon startled slightly, both quickly looking over at the source of the voice.
Aunt Petunia, looking both equally shocked and disgusted, continued.
"Even if that's true, that doesn't explain the circumstances. Why is Dudley like this?"
Harry, ignoring his burning desire to answer why exactly she knew that tidbit, elaborated.
"That's the effect of being in close proximity. They have the ability to simultaneously drain positive emotion and make their victim's relive their most traumatic memories, seemingly magnified…" Harry trailed off, recalling his own experiences with the dark creatures.
"And why are they here?"
"I'm not entirely sure. There's two scenarios that seem viable to me as of now: One of which is that someone within the Ministry orchestrated their appearance and behavior, to what ends are beyond me." Harry started, still trying to work his head around it but coming up short. If anything, he'd proven to be an asset to the Ministry and to Hogwarts. Maybe Lucius Malfoy did it, under orders for-
"And what's the other one?"
Harry pursed his lips for a moment, staring at the window.
"He must have sent them." Harry murmured, lost in implications.
"What's that? Who must have sent them?"
"Lord Voldemort."
The irony was not lost on Harry that the Dursleys, who normally reacted with flinching, wincing, voice cracks, slight accidental urination, or all the above at the mention of words like "wizard," but could hear the name of the evilest wizard of all time without any palpable reaction.
"… that was the one who…"
"Murdered my parents, yeah."
"But he's gone," Uncle Vernon rattled off impatiently. "That giant bloke said so. He's gone."
"He's back. Tried to kill me a month ago, probably gonna try again too."
Silence filled the room.
"Anyways, now that it's come to this, the three of you ought to clear out." Harry stated, drawing mixed looks from the two elders. "There's a chance this place will become a battlefield before too long."
He wasn't joking either; be it Ministry or Death Eaters, going down without a fight was out of the question.
"you can get out of this house right this second boy!" Uncle Vernon growled, from the looks of it inflating himself for round two. Seeing this, Harry just shook his head.
"That works for me, but not for you guys." Harry reasoned, knowing his time was short to explain this before the Second Impact was triggered. "If they get here and see I'm not, chances are they'll just kill you guys out of spite. If you leave now and I stay though, you guys can come back in a day and all of this will have blown over and you'll never see me again."
Uncle Vernon sat for a moment contemplating the information, nodded, then looked at Petunia, who met his gaze and nodded as well.
Minutes later, suitcases were packed and loaded in the family car. Harry and Uncle Vernon carefully standing (the sick had yet to be cleaned) in the threshold on the front porch, watching Aunt Petunia guide Dudley into the backseat.
Uncle Vernon then took several steps towards the car, but then turned to Harry.
"Never show yourself to me or a member of my family ever again boy."
Harry could only nod.
With that, the Dudleys congregated in their vehicle, and drove off into the darkness of Little Surrey.
'And so ends the beginning, and so beginning is the end.' Harry thought to himself fatalistically as he watched the car disappear, finally turning back to walk into the house.
Only to slip in the sick as he crossed into the vestibule.
'This really isn't my day.' Harry thought to himself sadly as he picked himself up and began upstairs.
And that's it folks!
If you thought this story was dead, you were right! Not anymore though.
So much has happened since I posted the first chapter of this story. It's safe to say I'm a different person now, and whether that's good or bad remains to be seen. I promise I'm doing my best to be a decent human being, but in the words of a wise man, "doubt fucks with everything."
In this ever-changing world, please remember to always treat others with kindness.
Aside from that, any feedback is great, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be posted by 3/23/19 provided I can find internet.
