Discalimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
I actually had a lot of reviews about this chapter, how it was disgusting that I was going to have Dudley rape Harry. That was never my intention. I used the word 'thrash' which where I'm from, means to beat someone, not rape them. I would never have Harry raped! Especially not by Dudley. However the word has been changed to 'beat', and the paragraph expanded. Also, people kept telling me that Harry should be worrying about Dudley's plans for him - Harry was never going to be in the Dursley's house on Monday. This chapter is set on a Saturday (which Harry notes during his conversation with Vernon in the morning re his being picked up), with Harry being picked up the next day (ie Sunday). He DIDN'T NEED to worry about Monday. Just needed to clear that up, because I was sick of writing the same thing in response to reviews.
Chapter Two
"Up, boy!" Harry heard Aunt Petunia shriek as she banged on his door. "Vernon & my Dudders need their breakfast when they wake up!"
Harry sighed as he rolled from his bed. He had been awake for about an hour by this point, having woken from a nightmare once again. Placing his book on the bedside table, he quickly answered.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia. I'll be down as soon as I'm dressed" he called back quietly, and began pulling on some of Dudley's oversized clothing. He quickly headed down the stairs, and set the kettle to boil and the coffee to steep. Pulling foods from the pantry and the fridge, he set about making enough food to feed a battalion, in his opinion. Even Ron didn't eat as much as Vernon and Dudley, and that was saying something.
Harry had just finished the scrambled eggs (using a dozen eggs and a litre of milk), when Dudley thundered down the stairs, Vernon following moments later. Harry checked to make sure their mugs were full (Vernon without his morning coffee was not a good thing) and that the coffee and tea pots were on the table, before returning to the kitchen to get the juice from the fridge. He then stood at the side of the kitchen door to wait for if they needed anything else. 'I could be a great waiter – it's not like I haven't had the practice, and with the most demanding customers.' He thought to himself.
Dudley hoed into the food, staring at the television stationed directly opposite, with Vernon and Petunia watching fondly. Harry bit back a grimace of disgust – wild animals had more manners than the tub of lard. Noting that Vernon had finished his coffee, Harry elected to inform him of the plans for his removal.
"Uncle Vernon," Harry started,
"What, Boy?" Vernon grunted as he began to fill his plate.
"I'm being picked up at noon tomorrow by my Headmaster, for the rest of the summer. Professor Dumbledore and I would like to speak to you about next year, before we leave, if you and Aunt Petunia will be available? Dudley is welcome as well, if he wants to be there and you agree." Harry tried to be as polite as possible, hoping it would make the conversation easier.
"What about next year – I don't want to talk to you freaks any more than necessary!" Vernon was steadily turning red.
"Next year I turn 17, which makes me an adult in the w... my community. As such, the wa... security here will lapse. We want to discuss your options, and make plans for next year." Harry watched as Vernon turned purple, and thanked every god he could think of that at least it was Saturday and Vernon didn't have to work today. If he'd had to go in to work, after this kind of discussion, Harry could kiss food for the next few days goodbye. Vernon opened his mouth to reply, when Petunia chimed in.
"The sooner we get rid of you, the better, boy. We'll be here, if only to make sure that you leave." Vernon glared at Harry before turning back to his breakfast. Harry sighed, and relaxed slightly.
Harry had finished cleaning the dining room and kitchen after breakfast, when Dudley came pounding through. Harry quickly grabbed the duster and headed to the lounge to continue his daily chores, hoping Dudley would ignore him. Thankfully, his prayers were answered, and Dudley left with only a leering glance in his direction.
'Strange'. Harry thought. He hasn't once missed a chance to belittle or annoy me this summer... What on earth is he planning now?
With a feeling that something was about to happen, something that he would definitely not like, Harry quickly finished his chores inside the house (dusting, vacuuming, sweeping & mopping the entire house), and headed upstairs to start his potions essay, and read some more of his book.
Harry had, for the first time, planned ahead this year, and asked Tonks to do some shopping for him. She had, as asked, bought him a new trunk, with an expanded compartment (he had thought about the multi-compartment ones, but decided they were unnecessary. He didn't intent to live in the thing, after all). She had then headed to Flourish and Blotts and bought almost every book in the store (although Harry refused to allow her to buy Lockhart's). All these had been shrunk, and placed into a hinged bookcase, which slotted into a section of the trunk. Actually, it took up about half of the trunk, so Harry had further invested in a self-updating summoning catalogue that linked to the plates in the books' covers. Harry had further added his old text books (the new book lists hadn't arrived yet), and the rest of his important items (including his broomstick, invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, and most importantly, his wand), along with his homework, and a supply of candy. The trunk was then shrunk with a password ("shrink" in Parseltongue, simple but easy to remember), and hidden in his pocket. His old trunk was packed with his robes, some notebooks charmed to look like schoolbooks, a fake wand from the twins, and various other paraphernalia, to fool the Dursleys. As expected, upon arrival at Privet Drive, they had confiscated his trunk, and locked it in the basement. Harry had glared, and stormed to his room. After they had all gone to sleep, Harry had resized the trunk, removed his wand and his homework, shrunk it again, and hidden it under the loose floorboard beneath his bed. As such, for the first time since starting Hogwarts, Harry had almost completed all his homework, and there was still a month of the holidays left. Maybe he would actually receive passing grades on this years without Hermione's help (although he was still going to ask her to read it over for him before submitting it).
It was kind of strange, really. Until he received his OWL results, Harry had no idea what courses he would be taking, but he was still assigned homework for every class – even Snape who was adamant Harry would not be welcome in NEWT potions. Furthermore, he knew that the curriculum was changing, and new courses were going to become available, as did all the teachers before the end of the year (although many of the students did not), but there was still essays and research for every class.
"I swear, I don't understand adults." Harry sighed, and pulled out his potions text, and some supplementary reading. "Explain how preparation of ingredients affects their magical properties, with reference to reactions caused by preparations. Merlin, but Snape is a bastard. Not explaining anything in class, let alone this difference between preparation methods, then assigning homework on it in the holidays." Harry mumbled, and grabbed a notebook to make notes. He had found that making notes in a muggle notebook was easier than on parchment, so anything that needed to be submitted was on parchment, but his class notes and preparations were in books.
Harry had been reading for about an hour, when he heard laughter out his window. Glancing up, he noted Dudley, and a group of his friends standing together in the front yard. Every now and then, they glanced at the house, laughed, and turned back to each other. The feeling again that he was not going to like what happened washed over him.
"I hope you're not kidding about how pretty he has become" someone snickered. "I've always loved beating pretty boys – they squeal so nice, and they never look so pretty with their faces swollen and covered in bruises." Harry couldn't tell who had said it, but he shivered in disgust. "We might have to come back and visit on Monday, if no one bar you and him are going to be home. It's the perfect time." Grimacing, Harry decided that he didn't need to hear any more. He wasn't going to be here on Monday, since Professor Dumbledore was picking him up tomorrow, so all he needed to do was keep and eye on Dudley, and with his size, that wasn't at all hard. It's not like he could sneak up on him, and Harry had been locking his door. Just to be safe, though, Harry grabbed his wand from his nightstand, and slipped it up his sleeve. Screw the Underage Restriction Laws. Turning back to his potions essay, which he had nearly completed, Harry picked up his quill.
"Boy!" Vernon's bellow about shook the walls. For someone so concerned with normality, he certainly didn't make much of an effort – screaming at only one person in your house at the top of your lungs, and not even using their name, was not particularly common.
"Coming, Uncle Vernon." Harry quickly packed up his schoolwork, and placed it on the bed, under the pillow. No point letting Vernon or Petunia see it, and getting himself in trouble on his last night here. As he turned back to the door, Harry noticed Dudley and his gang heading down the street. "No worries there, at least," he murmured as he headed for the door. Vernon was stood at the bottom of the stairs.
"Since you are leaving early this year, you haven't completed all the chores we had for you." Vernon sneered. Harry couldn't help comparing it (unfavourably) with Malfoy's (elder and younger) and Snape's. Couldn't hold a candle. "You will be cleaning and sorting out the attic, and if it isn't done by morning, you won't be able to walk properly, boy!" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Considering that my Headmaster, the most powerful wizard in England is intending to come to get me tomorrow, I wouldn't suggest that, but if it will get you to leave me alone until tomorrow – and that means not getting up early to cook breakfast – I'll sort the attic out." Harry smiled politely at his uncle.
"You..." Vernon was currently a magnificent shade of magenta.
"Yes, me. You've abused me for the last 15 or so years of my life, but no more. After tomorrow, I will not be returning here, and it is up to you if you want our help to stay safe from the wizards that would target you for being related to me, or if you want us to leave you to die at their hands." Harry was through with being quiet and subservient. He no longer needed to make his life easier here, and he wasn't going to let Vernon continue to walk all over him. "I'll start on the attic, but if I don't finish it before I leave, ask Dudley to. He could do with some exercise that doesn't consist of bullying people smaller than him." Harry smirked, and turned, walking back up the stairs and pulling the cord for the attic ladder. Climbing up, he quickly pulled the ladder up after him, before Vernon got over his shock. "Not that he'd fit through the roof anyway. The ladder would probably collapse before he got here" he snickered, and looked around. There was only minimal light, as the curtains over the window were almost closed, so Harry slid between boxes to reach it. Opening the curtains, he then turned back to the rest of the attic.
"I can see why they want it sorted, this place is worse than Dudley's room." Harry looked around, trying to decide where to start, when he noticed a corner with three boxes and a trunk, and nothing else. 'That's strange, the rest of the attic is jam packed, and there's heaps of space over there.' Harry headed that way. 'That trunk looks familiar. It would be just like Uncle Vernon to have me watch him lock my trunk in the basement, then move it up here were I couldn't find it. Oh, I need to get my trunk anyway.' He placed his hand on the front, before moving to the side to shift it. As he moved to push it, the top opened. On top was a stunning dress in ivory white, with an ice green cloak folded to one side. "Definitely not mine, then.' Lifting the dress out, he noted a framed photograph below it. The dress was far too small to have been Petunia's; it probably would have only reached her knees. Carefully placing the dress on the cloak, Harry picked up the photograph. In it, his mother and father were toasting one another with champagne, while Padfoot was sneaking a slice of the cake in the background and sniggering. Harry smiled, and set the photo on the floor. 'That explains why this corner is empty. The Dursley's probably didn't want anything of theirs contaminated.' Turning back to the trunk, Harry held his breath as he lifted out robes – probably his father's wedding robes, by the look of them. "Pay Dirt!" Harry whispered. Under the clothes were numerous books. Some were notebooks that looked interesting (ie not about school). Opening one, he saw the title 'Marauder's Guidebook) laughing quietly, he continued to sift through the books, finding his mother's diaries from the age of 11 onwards. They began as though Lily was talking to Petunia, but eventually, she merely wrote about her day, without addressing anyone. Harry assumed Petunia hadn't changed much then. Pulling the Diaries out, along with his father's Marauder book, he set them to one side to look through later, and began opening the boxes.
Laughing, Harry closed the top box back up. It was filled to the brim with furniture that look suitable for a doll's house. His father must have packed the majority of their possessions when he and Lily moved to Godrics Hollow (Potter Manor being too large to cast a Fidelius over, especially for a wizard like Pettigrew). Why they had ended up at Privet Drive, Harry had no idea, but he was going to make sure that he took them with him when he left.
It had been at least four hours by the time Harry was satisfied that the attic was as neat as he could make it. He had been constantly checking to make sure that there was nothing else of his mother or father's squirreled away out of sight, and while there wasn't, Harry had a pile of boxes that he wanted to take with him (none of them belonging to Vernon or Petunia). It looked like the owners before the Dursley's had been bibliophiles, and there were at least 15 large boxes packed full of books. All the boxes had 'Duplicates' written on the side, which explained why they had been forgotten. There was also some extremely old-fashioned crockery (which looked like bone china to Harry's ill-educated eyes) and a full set of crystal glasses. The Dursley's had no idea that such expensive items were right under their roof, and Harry was happy to put one over them.
Climbing down the ladder, books wrapped in his shirt and clutched in one hand, Harry came face-to-face with Dudley at the bottom.
"Freak, on Monday, I'll be telling mum that you're helping me for the day. Some of my friends want to... meet... you, and you'll be far too busy for your regular chores. You will keep quiet about this, or I will break your ribs. Understood?"
"Wow, Dudley, you know big words. Fine, I won't tell anyone that your friends want to meet 'the freak'." Harry sighed, inwardly laughing at what Dudley could expect on Monday. Harry wasn't going to be here, since he was bing picked up tomorrow, which was conveniently a Sunday, and that would make him look terrible in front of his friends. Squeezing past Dudley, Harry closed and locked his bedroom door behind him, dropped his pile of books on his bed, and grabbed a new shirt out of the wardrobe. He was completely covered in dust. Noting the time, Harry went to go and start dinner, knowing that the threat of angry wizards wasn't really enough to stop Vernon attacking him. Tomorrow would be a different matter, with the imminent threat of Albus Dumbledore's visit. Considering that last time wizards entered the home, Dudley ended with a massive tongue, he doubted they would try anything then, although Vernon would probably threaten it. Setting dinner on the table and eating his small portion in the kitchen, Harry decided to leave the dishes for Petunia, and headed back to his room to finish his potions essay.
When he reached his room, Hedwig was waiting calmly on the head of his bed, a letter tied to her leg.
"Hey, girl. Good hunt last night?" Harry questioned as he quickly removed the letter from her leg. Opening it, he noted that it was from Remus, then turned to sit against the head of his bed. Hedwig glided over to sit on his knee, and Harry gentle scratched her while reading the letter.
Hey Cub,
Just a quick note to let you know that Sirius and I won't be at the Weasley's to see you tomorrow. Sirius is being discharged from Mungos in the afternoon (if everything goes according to plan) and I need to be there to sign him out. He is being placed under care, which means that until they rule him completely fit, he will need to be with someone 24/7. Basically he cannot live alone. I have offered to act as his 'guardian' and Dumbledore agreed (probably because I'm the only one that can reel him in). Headquarters has been completely renovated, and is a clean slate, so we will be coming by one day to collect you from the Burrow and help us decorate – means you don't end up with a pink and purple room like Paddy was threatening. Not sure what day yet.
We will, of course, also come by just to spend time with you. Knowing Sirius, we will be there Tuesday (maybe even Monday night, so warn Molly, please), whether he is well enough to be out or not.
I will give you a complete update on his progress and treatment when we see you, but there is far too much to put in a letter.
On another note, the house outside Greater Whinging is ready to be occupied. In case the Dursley's decline your generous offer, I have spoken to a Muggle real estate agent about leasing the place out. There are also a number of other ventures I wish to discuss with you regarding your money and investments. Be prepared (insert evil cackle).
Anyway, Padfoot and I love you, Cub, and we will see you soon. Enjoy your birthday, and we'll bring your present when we see you (Padfoot wants to see your face).
Moony
Harry laughed as he read the letter. There were marks all over the parchment, where the quill had slipped, which could only mean that Sirius was wrestling for the quill and lost. Putting the letter to one side, Harry moved to his desk to finish his potions essay.
An hour later, and Harry's essay was finished. Happy dancing around the room (before double-checking that the curtain was closed) Harry grabbed his trunk from under his bed, resized it, and placed it in there, along with all his books bar the ones on wards and Ancient Runes he had been reading.
Harry had become interested in wards after Professor Dumbledore had explained the ones over the Dursley's house. Ancient Runes went hand in hand, as wards were quite often tied into various runic forms. Only the most powerful, like those at Hogwarts, were tied to a runestone. The Goblins apparently had a similar kind of ward to those at Hogwarts, but they were (understandably in Harry's opinion), rather unwilling to share their secrets. Harry was hoping that he could do OWL level Ancient Runes this year, so that he could complete the NEWTS for it after school if necessary. Curling up on the bed, Harry settled in to read.
When Harry next looked up from his book, "A Basic Guide to Protective Runic Warding" by Nell McKinnon, his clock read 2 am. Double-taking, Harry quickly put the book on his nightstand and turned out the lamp. Stripping to his boxer and settling on top of the sheets, Harry closed his tired eyes and wished for a good nights sleep.