Chapter 2- Strangers at the Burrow
Dudley lurched forward, and hit the ground with a wet thud. Molly Weasley screamed, and Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Ron...and Aunt Petunia rushed out after her. Mrs. Weasley was frantically tying to turn Dudley over, and Harry helped her despite the sickening pain coursing through him. She was muttering the same, song-like incantation that Snape had used to heal Malfoy the previous school year. The wounds slowly began to seal, the flow of blood gradually slowing to a trickle. It was a full ten-minutes before they had closed completely. Aunt Petunia's screams filled the otherwise completely silent night.
It was then that she noticed the stomach-turning angles of Harry's bones, and turned his wand on him. Before she had a chance to even wave it, though, Uncle Vernon's bellows joined his wife's screams.
"What the HELL have you done, boy?! Thought you'd get some of your wizard friends to rub us out for good, eh? How DARE you endanger my wife and child? HOW DARE YOU?!" Vernon dove at Harry, wrapping his large, meaty hands around his throat. The air was driven from Harry's lungs as he struggled to draw breath. He felt the same electric jolt from two years ago run through him, and Uncle Vernon's hands were once again repelled.
"Really!" shouted Mr. Weasley, pulling Vernon back from Harry with some difficulty. Harry could recognize the danger signs of one Uncle Vernon's famous rages, and he mused that finally, he had a good reason for one. Mrs. Weasley mended his broken bones, and Harry sank back onto the grass. He could hear Vernon raging at the Weasleys.
"...could have been killed! We've put up with him for seventeen years, and THIS is what he brings down on us for thanks. We should get a lawyer and sue the pants off of him!"
"And will you tell them the full truth?" said Mr. Weasley in a cold voice. "Will you tell them that you were attacked by wizards?" Uncle Vernon tore huge tuffs of hair out of his bushy mustache. He rounded again on Harry.
"I demand compensation! Our house is devastated, the neighbors surely saw your lot destroy our home, we'll have to move! You've got gold, I know it! That long haired fellow said so last year! You'll be paying us for the cost of our home, and for the salary I'll lose when I-"
"Leave him 'lone." All those assembled on the Weasley's front lawn turned, as one, to stare at Dudley. He was sitting up now, massaging his chest and looking down at the tatters of his shirt.
"What...what did you say, Dud?" Uncle Vernon looked shocked and worried, as though he was afraid the recent stress had snapped his son's mind. He looked quite mad himself, due to his bulging eyes and uneven, bleeding mustache.
"I said to leave him alone. Stop yelling at him." Dudley shook his head to clear away the fog, and sat up straighter. He was still absent-mindedly running his fingers up and down the holes in his shirt.
"Sweetums, what are you...?" Aunt Petunia trailed off.
"Stop working him over. It's not his fault that we were attacked. We're only alive right now 'cause of him, anyway," Dudley said, in a flat sort of voice.
"What kind of rubbish is this? What've you done to our son, to make him talk like-"
"I said STOP!" Dudley roared. "I saw him, on his broomstick. He could've just...just flown away, but he came back. Yelled for that man," he pointed at Mr. Weasley, "to come and get us. He didn't have to do that, could've just left. Should've done..." Dudley had progressed from the flat tone of voice to one thick with misery.
"Dudley..." Harry said in soft wonder. Dudley pulled himself to his feet and walked shakily over to Harry. He helped Harry to his feet and extended a hand.
"That's twice you've saved my life." Harry took the offered hand and shook it, hardly believing that this was happening. Frankly, although he would never admit it, he was of similar mind to Uncle Vernon. The shock of the events must have addled Dudley's brain. Dudley turned to face his parents. "Well?" he asked, in a tone suggesting he was ready to fight. The Dursleys simply stared at him in shock. "Apologize to him," he said through tightly gritted teeth.
The Dursleys stood, motionless, for a very long time. Finally, Uncle Vernon stepped hesitantly forward. What remained of his bushy mustache rippled with irritation. Finally, he managed to extend his hand.
"I suppose...I'm...we're...sorry," he mumbled. Harry took the hand in astonishment. Uncle Vernon had never apologized to him for anything before. Vernon's hand was limp in Harry's, and he, Harry, finally let it fall. He turned to stare at Aunt Petunia. Her long neck was mottled with what was either fury...or embarrassment.
"Yes," she said quickly. "I suppose we should...thank you. Even though our house is...we're alive." She gave him a long, piercing look and flushed even further.
"You're...thank you," Harry said dully. He looked from Petunia, to Vernon to Dudley, and barely held back a grin. Dudley waddled over to Harry again, and looked down at the ground.
"Look...I'm sorry for...y'know, the way I've treated you. I don't understand how you could've...saved us like that, with how we treated you. But thanks for doing it." Harry looked at Dudley with quiet wonder. Then something occurred to him.
"Dudley, does this have something to do with what you saw when the Dementors came?"
"Y-yeah...yeah it does. I don't really want...want to talk about it right now." Dudley flushed and craned his neck down further.
"Well," said Mr. Weasley, slightly breathlessly. "I shouldn't have to tell you all that this is quite a delicate situation. The Muggles in the neighborhood have surely noticed that the house has been destroyed, and if I'm not much mistaken-"
A great, silver lynx bounded across the lawn and sat down on its haunches next to Mr. Weasley. To Harry's astonishment, it began to speak in Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep, reassuring voice.
"Arthur, the Obliviators are already on the case. We've had to call in all of them. You are to keep the Dursleys at your house until further notice."
"Wh-WHAT?!" shouted Uncle Vernon. "Now see here, we're not going to-"
"Come now, Mr. Dursley, surely you can see that Kingsley is right. This is a very tricky-"
"TRICKY BE DAMNED!" roared Vernon. "I demand to be taken back to my home this instant!"
"You haven't got a home anymore," said Harry quietly. Aunt Petunia's face went very pale, and she swayed on the spot. She looked quite in danger of fainting.
"What's this?" croaked Vernon.
"The walls have been blown out. Most of them, anyway. And I think there may have been a fire, I can't remember."
"I...then-" spluttered Vernon. "Then you're lot will have to repair it, then, won't you?"
"I don't think so, Uncle Vernon. I think you'll probably...probably have to be moved." Vernon was turning a dangerous purple color again, and Harry braced himself for the explosion.
"What. Do. You. Mean. By. This. Boy?" he spat out from tightly gritted teeth.
"You'll be in danger. The Death Eaters found out where I was staying, I don't know how. They'll probably try to get to me through you."
"Too true," said Mrs. Weasley softly. "Yes, it's absolutely out of the question, you returning. It would be too dangerous."
There was a sudden crack, and Rufus Scrimgeour appeared out of thin air. He looked much older than the last time Harry had seen him, even though it had only been a few weeks. His yellow eyes were clouded with exhaustion, and there were deep lines in his face.
"Right, then," he rumbled. "You must be the Dursleys," he said, nodding to Vernon and Petunia. "This is the situation. We have, through great difficulty, modified the memories of all Muggles in the town of Little Whinging. They believe you dead, and the skeletons conjured by Rowane should convince any...authorities."
"Dead? What do you mean, 'dead?'" asked Uncle Vernon.
"I mean, you are no longer alive in the Muggle world. It was the only explanation, given the state of the home. Now, then, we will be procuring lodging for you in Hogsmeade. The wizarding village," he added, seeing the Dursleys' blank faces.
"Now see here, we will not be living amongst you...you...freaks!" shrieked Aunt Petunia.
"I'm quite afraid you will, Mrs. Dursley," said the Prime Minister, with almost as much disgust on his face as on Aunt Petunia's. "It will be among the safest places for you. Where we can keep an eye on you. Now, until we can find a suitable place, I'm sure the Weasleys will allow you to stay here." Mrs. Weasley nodded vigorously. "Well, that's settled then. You will be notified when a place is found." And, with a final, weary look back at Harry, he Dissapparated.
Mrs. Weasley led them all into the kitchen and put on some tea. "Now, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, we insist that you take our room, Arthur and I. We'll be sleeping on the sofas. Dudley, you'll can have P-Percy's old room." She turned to look at Harry. "Harry, dear, I hope you don't mind sleeping on the camp bed again. We're going to run out of beds at this rate."
Harry didn't mind in the slightest. He had slept on Ron's camp bed so often that it was almost his own. The Dursleys, it seemed, were much less pleased with their arrangements. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley's bed was much smaller than their own huge bed at home, and Vernon grumbled under his breath when he saw it.
Dudley, oddly, was more than pleased with his temporary room. He seemed completely enthralled by the moving pictures of Percy and Penelope Clearwater that were left in the room. He had, admittedly, some trouble in squeezing his bulk into the bed, but he did not seem to mind. Harry was astonished at the change that seemed to have come over Dudley. Rather than the surly, angry demeanor he was expecting, owing to a lack of television, Dudley was quiet and subdued. He looked frequently with wonder at the magic that filled the Weasley home.
The next few days were trying for Vernon and Petunia. No matter how often it happened (and that was pretty often in the Burrow), they jumped with fright at every trace of magic that was performed in front of them. The day after the Dursleys had come to stay at the Burrow, Vernon was chased by garden gnomes for quite a long time. After Harry and Ron gathered up all the gnomes and flung them out of the garden, he swore at Mr. Weasley for a solid half hour. Mr. Weasley, as was his nature, took the abuse serenely.
It was, perhaps, Mr. Weasley's fascination with Muggles that was the most trying for the Dursleys. When Vernon let it slip that his company had made drills, Arthur had badgered him endlessly for details about them.
On the second day, Harry walked into the kitchen and was shocked to find Mr. Weasley and Dudley in what appeared to be quite an animated conversation.
"And how do they shrink them down, then, without magic?" he asked. Dudley chuckled, much merrier than Harry had ever heard in a situation that did not involve his own suffering.
"No, no, they're not actually INSIDE the television. They're just...well, y'know those pictures in...Percy, was it?" Mr. Weasley nodded. "The pictures in Percy's room, how they keep moving? Well, it's an awful lot like that, only the pictures are put on the television by satellites."
It took a further hour for Dudley to explain what satellites were, what they did, and how the Muggles got them up there in the first place. Harry took the time to make himself some toast and scrambled eggs, and ate them while listening to the conversation.
"It must be a very long plug then, for it to reach all the way. It's a wonder we don't see them all."
Ron came down then, tousle haired and still in pajamas, and sat down next to Harry. He listened to Dudley explaining microwaves for a moment, and looked at Harry in astonishment.
"Oi, what's happened to your cousin? How come he's not such a git?" he whispered.
"Dunno," said Harry, "but I'm not going to argue with it."
Ginny came down next, fully dressed. Harry guessed that she wasn't quite comfortable with Dudley seeing her in her pajamas. She cast Harry a shy glance, and busied herself with fixing toast.
"How're the Cannon's doing, Ron?" The Chudley Cannons were Ron's favorite Quidditch team, and Harry was hungry for news about his favorite sport in the world.
"Dreadful. Went down 345-20 to the Wasps just last week. Honestly, I don't think any of the players on the team have even heard of Quidditch before," he moaned in despair.
"What's...Kwi-dich?" asked Dudley. Harry and Ron exchanged a long look. They both seemed to understand that it would take much to long to explain to Dudley, and that words weren't really sufficient in describing it.
"Mr. Weasley," began Harry. "Do you think it would be alright if we...if we showed Dudley what Quidditch is?" Mr. Weasley frowned, considering it.
"Well, I don't suppose it would hurt, seeing as how Dudley has been surrounded by magic for days now. Just be sure that none of the Muggles in the village see you."
"Ginny, would you like to come?" asked Harry. She blushed, and mumbled something about an essay for Professor Binns before leaving the room. Harry sighed, and went upstairs for his broomstick.
They led Dudley to the field where they often practiced Quidditch. They obviously couldn't use real bludgers or a snitch, but they made due with substitutes. Dudley stared up at them from the ground, his mouth wide open in wonder. Once they had landed, he looked at Harry's broom with open longing.
"Can...can I try?" he asked, very softly. Harry and Ron exchanged another long, meaningful look. Harry's Firebolt was out of the question; for someone who had never flown, it would be much to fast. Ron sighed, and nodded.
"Here you go, Dudley, use mine," he said, resignedly. "Just be careful, alright? I've only had it for a couple of years. Oh, and try not to break any of your bones, either. My mum would skin me alive if she had to heal you up again."
Harry stood next to Dudley, and showed him how to mount it and how to kick off. As Dudley rose, slowly and feebly, into the air, Harry kicked off and joined him. Dudley looked absolutely terrified, but there was something else on his face as well. Joy. Harry had never seen, as far as he could remember, actual joy on Dudley's face. He showed amusement at Harry's misfortunes, and occasionally laughed at his friend's jokes or at a funny television show, but Harry had never seen him so absolutely...happy before.
Dudley rose a little higher, and, seeming to become a little braver, sped up and brushed some tree limbs. He rose higher and higher, and swooped down into a dive. He wobbled slightly, and fell ungracefully off of the broom. Thankfully, he was not far from the ground, and merely laughed.
"Thanks, Ron. That was..." he trailed off, lost in thought. Ron simply stared at him, mouth agape slightly. As they walked back to the Burrow, Dudley was completely silent, the ghost of a smile still on his face.
They were interrupted by a pair of brown owls, who swooped down upon Harry and Ron, and dropped a pair of envelopes on their heads. They tore open the paper, and read the notices.
Notice: To all Wizards of Age
The Ministry of Magic will be administering Apparition Tests on the 5th of August, at Diagon Alley. If you wish to attend, please send word by return owl.
Thank you,
Wilkie Twycross, Ministry Apparition Instructor
Ron groaned. He had just barely failed his previous Apparition test, and Harry guessed that he wasn't eager to repeat the performance. He clapped Ron on the shoulder.
"You'll do fine, mate. It was only half an eyebrow last time." Ron grunted sourly, and nodded. They attached their replies to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, and sat down at the table for lunch.
Mr. Weasley insisted on giving them tips in the days leading up to the exams, which did nothing to improve Ron's nerves. Harry and Ron went over the review materials that had been sent with Hedwig and Pig, and woke early on the morning of the Fifth.
They were to be traveling by Floo powder to Diagon Alley. It was among Harry's least favorite ways to travel, although it was not perhaps so unpleasant as the Knight Bus. They both grabbed a handful of powder, threw it into the fire, and shouted "Diagon Alley!"
Once the spinning stopped, they made their way out onto the winding streets of Diagon Alley. It was even less crowded than it was the previous year. It was beginning to look more and more like a ghost town, although the vendors at the carts along the sidewalks shouted even louder and heartier. They were still offering the usual variety of supposed dark arts protections. Harry and Ron passed them without so much as a second glance.
There was a large crowd by a marquee in the middle of the street, and the signs around it confirmed it to be the location of the exams. Little Wilkie Twycross, along with several other wizards, were standing on a small stage.
Harry could see all of the student who were not of age for the previous Apparition tests. All of them...except Draco Malfoy. He expected that Draco was still on the run, hiding with his fellow Death Eaters. Suppressing a surge of fury, he looked around for someone to talk to.
Neville was standing, trembling slightly,next to Ernie MacMillan. "Hi, Neville!" he said, waving. Neville gave him a small wave and a half-smile, and then went back to his trembling. Ernie, on the other hand, strode up to Harry.
"Harry, good to see you!" he said in his pompous voice, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Think you'll pass? Well, of course you will, you've done it before! I've been going over the review materials since I got them, haven't slept at all, hardly!" He gave a hearty laugh.
Twycross tapped his wand on the podium, and the crowd fell silent. "We will do this in Alphabetical Order. Right then, Aaron, Prias, come up then." A Ravenclaw boy that Harry had never met stepped up, and Apparated across the stage flawlessly. Twycross clapped and shouted "Yes, excellent!"
When it was Neville's turn, he tripped up the stairs to the stage, now shaking violently. Although he was not the first case of splinching that afternoon, his was the worst. His left leg above the knee and his entire right arm had stayed behind. The wizards and witches accompanying Twycross swarmed around him, and soon he was back together again.
"There we are, Neville, lad. Practice a bit more, and you'll get it next time. Remember, Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"
Ernie passed as well, although it was only due to the fact that the Wizards hadn't noticed that he'd left behind one of his toenails. He snatched it up, surreptitiously, and went off to find a healer.
Harry was next. He stepped up to the stage, concentrated hard, and turned on the spot. After a brief feeling of being squeezed, he arrived at his destination, completely intact. The wizards clapped, handed him his license, and guided him down the stairs. He looked at Ron, who now looked positively green, whether with envy or nerves, however, Harry wasn't sure.
But it turned out to be for nothing. Although he nearly fell upon landing, Ron was missing nothing at all from the trip, and very soon joined Harry, beaming and clutching his license.
"What do you want to do now, eh?" he asked Harry.
"How about we visit Fred and George?" Ron smiled at him, and soon they were heading off to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The building had been painted, evidently. It was now a violent, almost glowing shade of orange, and painted on the side was...Harry gasped, a dark mark.
But as he and Ron ran to the stop, stunned and horrified...the skull began to gag on the serpent protruding from its mouth. It vomited up the snake, and then winked at Harry and Ron. Glittering blue words appeared next to it.
"Puking Pastiles, now 45 off!"
"Brilliant!" chorused Ron and Harry, and they stepped inside. The joke shop seemed to be the only place in Diagon Alley still doing roaring trade. Harry was stunned to see that the shop was not filled with, as he expected, children and students, but adults. Ludo Bagman was roaring with laughter at a new trick wand. It had just turned itself into an absurd caricature of Bagman himself, with a pronounced and exaggerated belly.
"Wonderful, boys, simply wonderful!" He laid down a handful of galleons, and turned to look at Harry. "Ah, Harry Potter, how are you doing my lad?" He extended his hand, which Harry shook. Before he could stop himself, a question burst forth from his lips.
"Mr. Bagman, I thought you were...well, on the run from the goblins?" Bagman frowned momentarily, then beamed again.
"Oh, that. Well, I was able to fall back on some...acquaintances and family. Cleared up without a problem. Had to get a new job, of course, but I like this one much more. Official commentator for the British Quidditch League, now!" he said good-naturedly. "Did you hear about the Cannons? Dreadful business, don't know why they bother to play at all, really. Well, I must be off, then. Nice to see you again, Harry!" Bagman strode from the shop, still chuckling over the wand.
"Ah, Harry! Our-"
"Benefactor!" said Fred and George, shaking his hand and smiling at them. "Come to stock up on snackboxes for the wedding, then? Don't blame you at all!"
Harry stared up at them, confused. "Wedding?" Fred and George looked at each other.
"Y'know, Fred, I reckon all of the danger he's been in has softened his brains."
"Yes, it seems that way, doesn't it George? It's only been a month, Harry. Surely the damage hasn't become that severe!" When Harry only blinked at them, they said "Bill and Fleur!"
In all the excitement, Harry had completely forgotten. Ron was busy filling the twins in on everything that had happened.
"Weird," said George. "I thought he was a humongous git, though."
Harry was examining a variety of new sweets. It seemed that the twins had expanded their Skiving Snackbox line. There were now "Gassing Gumdrops", "Phlegm Pops", and "Balding Bars".
"Had to expand, Harry," said Fred.
"Yeah, it was a bit suspicious that people kept coming down with the same illnesses over and over again. I wouldn't try the Gumdrops around anyone you care about, though."
Harry hadn't brought any money, so he didn't purchase anything. That didn't stop the twins from loading him down with new snackboxes, darkness powder and some Muggle magic tricks, for their dad.
"Come and see us again soon, Harry. Oh, you too, I suppose, Ron," shouted Fred as they left.
"See you at the wedding," Harry shouted back. He turned to Ron. "They're doing very well, aren't they?"
"Yeah, they are. Don't tell my mum and dad, but they've been putting money in mum and dad's vault. Bill's been helping them." Harry smiled at Ron, as they headed back towards the fireplace.
"Wait a minute," said Harry, hitting his forehead with his palm. "Ron, we can just Apparate back." Ron gave him a foolish grin, and they both turned on the spot, and Apparated to the Burrow. When they got there, the Dursleys were gone.
"Fudge came just an hour or so ago to pick them up. They took the Knight Bus. Cornelius seemed to think that it would be the least unpleasant mode of travel for them," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry laughed. Of all the modes of magical travel, the Knight Bus was perhaps the most trying. He didn't envy Fudge for the shouting match that was likely to occur between he and Uncle Vernon.
For the next several days, the Burrow was alive with activity. Mrs. Weasley was in a frenzy, preparing for the wedding. Although it was being held on Stoatshead Hill, Mrs. Weasley was scrubbing the Burrow from top to bottom.
Harry and Ron were volunteered, as well. They had been charged with weeding the garden, scrubbing the upstairs floors, and, hardest of all, cleaning up Ron's room. They were five hours into this last task when the door flew open. Harry found himself engulfed by a mass of bushy brown hair.
"Hermione!" he shouted in a strangled voice. She was making it rather difficult to breathe.
"Oh, Harry, I'd heard what had happened, and I was so worried!"
"I'm fine, Hermione, honestly. If you want to worry about anyone, worry about the people living in Hogsmeade." At Hermione's confused look, Harry explained the situation with the Dursleys.
"Oh, my. I don't imagine they took very well to that," she said.
"My Aunt and Uncle didn't. Dudley seemed...sort of excited, though. He's changed an awful lot."
Hermione sat down and helped them tidy up. She explained that she had been doing research on Horcruxes and dark magic.
"I've spent an awful lot of time at Samiel and Smith's, looking for books on them."
"Samiel and Smith's?" said Harry and Ron at the same time. "What's that?"
"It's a bookshop dedicated to the Dark Arts in Knockturn Alley," she said quickly.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted in a strangled voice. "You've been going down Knockturn Alley alone? Are you mental?"
"Well, someone had to do it, and I didn't think you'd be pleased to. But if you'd like to switch places with me, Ron..."
"Well? Have you found anything?" asked Harry urgently. Hermione sighed.
"Nothing yet. I've found a few more mentions of Horcruxes, but nothing on how to recognize or destroy them. I did find out how to make one, the exact steps, but I really don't think we need to know that," she said.
"Well, keep it in mind," said Harry. "It might come in useful somehow."
Any further opportunities for discussion were cut off in the flurry of activity in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley strode across the house, examining every surface. Most of Ron and Harry's jobs had to be redone before they passed her examination.
"Mum," said Ron in exasperation. "We don't have to eat off of the floors!"
"I want them sparkling clean!" she snapped. "The Delacours are arriving tomorrow!"