--Chapter Two: Promises --

Wide eyed, Petunia stared at Harry in her arms and then looked up at her husband.

"That crackpot who killed your parents? He's here? In the house?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"Not in the house," Harry answered in a hoarse voice. "He's in the street. Outside the house." The pain was surging through his body.

"I knew you would endanger my family, boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon suddenly, causing even Dudley to jump. Harry, through his intense hurt, could not believe his ears. "I want you out of this house! If he wants you, he can have you! Did you hear me? I WANT YOU OUT! I want you to…"

"BE QUIET VERNON!" yelled Petunia.

Everyone in the room looked at Harry's aunt with shocked looks on their faces.

"Vernon, when we took him in we agreed to protect him. We talked about this last summer. I will not let him out of this house except for school when I know his life is in danger. Look at him! He couldn't leave the house in this condition anyway! He wouldn't stand a chance on his own!"

"I don't care…" Vernon began, but at one look at his wife, his voice faltered.

Petunia's face was set. Somehow, Harry knew she would win this fight and for the second time in his 15 years of knowing her, Harry was glad Petunia was his mother's sister. His pain subsided almost immediately. He stared in disbelief at his aunt; after all the years of harsh remarks and put-downs about his parents, Harry realized she was defending him, and that she cared about him when it came down to important matters like life and death.

Vernon, dumbstruck at his wife's outburst, looked furious, but she ignored him and turning to Dudley said, "Dudley, get me a cool washcloth from the bathroom please." Dudley left the room without a word, and Petunia turned to look at Harry.

"Harry, are you alright now? Can you stand?"

"I think so," he said as he struggled to his feet. He still felt weak. "I don't feel much pain anymore; it just stopped. But I think he may still be outside." Aunt Petunia helped him to the bed and sat him down.

"How do you know he is here, Harry? Did you see him?" asked Aunt Petunia.

"Not initially," Harry answered. "I felt a sharp pain in my scar, which woke me up. I got out of bed and went to the window, pulled open the curtain and looked outside. I didn't really expect to see him, and when I didn't I turned to get back into bed. Then my scar began to hurt so bad I fell to my knees, but before I did I looked up and saw him looking up at me from the street." Harry then stood up so fast Aunt Petunia started.

"Harry, where are you going?" Petunia asked.

"I have to go downstairs and see if he's still out there!" Harry said as he raced from the room. He ran past Dudley, who was holding a washcloth and looked beside himself with fright, so fast that Dudley had to stand close against the wall to avoid being knocked over.

"But…" Petunia began, but Harry was past the hall and down the stars. She, Uncle Vernon and Dudley followed Harry and watched him slowly part the curtains in the living room to look outside.

"Do you see anything?" Uncle Vernon asked harshly.

But Harry couldn't answer.

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes were wide with mingled surprise and fear as he found himself staring into the face of the man who had haunted his nightmares for six years. Lord Voldemort was standing outside the living room window, staring inside directly at Harry.

Aunt Petunia began to scream, but Uncle Vernon clapped a hand over her mouth and prevented her from rushing to Harry. Vernon then moved forward and threw Harry away from the window and closed the curtains, but he knew the damage was already done.

"Well, boy, you are going to be the end of my family just as you were the end of your parents," Vernon said nastily. "It's over now, Petunia, he's seen us."

"Wait," said Harry, and he moved for the window again.

"What the hell are you doing? He'll punch through the window to get to you!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and he moved to grab Harry's arm again.

Harry dodged out of the way and said, "He wouldn't need to. He's just about the most powerful wizard in the world and he could just blow the house apart." Aunt Petunia gasped at this statement. "But I think if he was going to he would have already. I don't think he can see me."

The Dursley's looked puzzled, but Harry moved to the window, held his breath, and pulled the curtains open again. He looked right into the red eyes of Voldemort and closed his eyes waiting for the attack. But it didn't come. Voldemort simply stared at him.

Comprehension dawned suddenly as Harry realized Voldemort seemed to be looking through him, not at him. As he turned to tell the Dursley's this, he winced slightly as a quick but sharp pain hit his scar, though not at all like the pain had he felt earlier. He had felt Voldemort's anger, and then he heard a loud CRACK. Harry turned and Voldemort was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was right; he couldn't see me. He didn't seem to see any of us, or he would have tried to come inside." Harry was thoroughly confused, and apparently, so was everyone else.

"I thought you said he saw you from the street," said Uncle Vernon in a tone of forced calm.

"I thought he did, but he must have just been looking up. I thought he would be able to feel me though the pain in my scar, but I guess not."

Harry heard a swooshing noise and looked up to see an owl soaring through the fireplace. Harry recognized it as Errol, the Weasley's barn owl, and grabbed the letter as it fell towards his feet. He ripped the parchment in his rush to open the letter as the owl swooped back up the fireplace. He was paying no attention to Uncle Vernon's now very familiar tirade about owls as disappointment washed over him. He expected more information just as he had expected last summer after the dementor attack, but this letter was very similar in content as that letter.

Harry,

Dumbledore knows what just happened. We don't know how he found you, but Dumbledore trusted that he would not be able to harm you, which is why Dumbledore is not there. He will be writing to you shortly. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S.

Arthur Weasley

Harry sighed, too exhausted to be angry, and crumpled the torn parchment in his hand. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece, which now read 2:45 and then turned to his frightened-looking relatives. Harry opened his mouth to say something to them when he saw a flash of flame above his head. Uncle Vernon and Dudley yelped and jumped out of the way, but the flame had vanished, and another letter fluttered to the ground with a golden feather. Harry was startled to receive a letter from Dumbledore through Fawks since they both had been using Harry's owl Hedwig to communicate with each other.

Harry,

I didn't expect Voldemort to find your location so soon after his return, and his actions have now changed everything. I am assuming that since Fawks has found you, nothing serious has happened and Voldemort has not actually discovered you or your family. In that case, the ancient magic protecting you in your house is still in effect, and it is very powerful.

Harry remembered something from what seemed like ages ago about the Secret-Keeper Charm in which Voldemort could have looked in the window of his parent's hiding place but still would not be able to see them.

However, it seems something or someone has clued him into the fact that you live somewhere in the vicinity, a fact that has been guarded since the death of your parents. I will tell you more soon, but now I am sending someone to get you out of the house. Stay there until the escort arrives.

Professor Dumbledore

"They are coming to get me," Harry said, more to himself than anyone, but Aunt Petunia seemed skeptical.

"Who is coming to get you?" she asked with slight concern on her face.

"The headmaster of my school is sending an escort to take me from the house, for your protection as well as mine, I suppose," Harry said.

"Where are they taking you?" asked Uncle Vernon, trying (and failing) to hide his delight that Harry was leaving the house.

"I don't know. Professor Dumbledore didn't say. The letter that came with this feather was from him." He held up Fawks' golden feather.

"Why was there a flash of fire when that letter came?" Uncle Vernon inquired curiously.

Harry tried to hide his smirk. He thought Uncle Vernon might approve of letters-via-phoenix rather than owls, even if the flame startled him. "It was brought by Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawks. When he delivers letters he just flashes and leaves behind the note with…"

Uncle Vernon cut him off. "It was brought by what?"

"A Phoenix. You know... a bird of fire that is reborn from…" Harry began.

"I know what a phoenix is, you stupid boy. I thought they didn't exist."

Harry frowned at his uncle. "Well, you also thought wizards didn't exist. It's amazing how you can learn new things everyday," Harry replied sarcastically. He was surprised to find his temper rising so quickly.

Uncle Vernon glared at him dangerously, and then continued, "What did the letters say, then?"

"I told you. The first one was from my friend Ron's dad saying not to leave the house until I hear from Professor Dumbledore, and the second was from Dumbledore saying he was sending an escort to take me out of the house." Harry answered.

"Well, I hope they come for you soon. You are more trouble then you are worth… ruddy owls everywhere, your constant sulking and backtalk... Marge was right; we should have taken you to the orphanage the moment you were placed on our doorstep, or better yet just left you in the street!"

Harry began to shake as his temper reached the boiling point. The lights flickered and some of the china in the kitchen cupboards began to clatter.

"Look," Harry began scornfully. "I didn't ask for all this to happen. I can't help that you are related to me. You have treated me like trash for fifteen years and I am SICK OF IT!" The lights flickered again. "I didn't ask you to take me in, but a little compassion would have been appropriate. But since everything has to be about YOU and the sacrifices YOU made, I took your insults and anger. But MY life is in danger here, and I can't help it if this is the only place besides my school that I am safe. You have no idea what I have been through in the last five years, so BACK THE HELL OFF!"

Uncle Vernon was now completely purple in the face and trembling with fury, spit flying as he yelled at his nephew. "I always knew something like this would happen, ever since we took you in! Those no-good parents of yours got themselves killed and left you with nothing but a criminal for a godfather and freaks for friends!"

At these words, Harry pulled his phoenix-core wand out of the back pocket of his ripped jeans and pointed it at Uncle Vernon's chest. Dudley cowered behind his mother at the sight of Harry's wand and an electric charge of energy raced off Harry and through the room, causing the hair on Petunia's neck to stand on end.

"Don't ever mention my godfather again. Ever. He was ten times the man you will ever be, and if I hear you so much as mumble his name, you WILL be sorry." As the lights continued to flicker, some of the bulbs sparked and popped.

"What are you going to do, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked as if daring Harry to act. "I know you can't do anything to me. They'll never take you back at the freak show you call a school if you do." Even though he stood his ground and kept his voice firm, Vernon's eyes were darting around the room in fear as more light bulbs popped.

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared severely at his Uncle. "Try me. I don't care what the consequences are. Don't ever mention my godfather again."

The house began to shake on its foundation as Harry's body quivered with anger, but his wand hand was steady, and his face was set. Uncle Vernon, seeing the seriousness in Harry's eyes and remembering his fear of all things magical, had no choice but to yield the argument.

Shocked at his own power to shake the whole house, Harry stood stock still in the living room, waiting for another outburst from his uncle. It didn't come, so he replaced his wand and went back to his thoughts to calm his temper when a sudden wave of sadness swept over him. Sirius had written to him after the dementor attack last year, and even though he was a bit disappointed at the time to receive so little information, at this instant Harry felt he would give anything to see his godfather's writing whether it was two words or twenty. He always depended on Sirius to help him through the worst of times, and now Harry felt more alone than he had in a month. The adrenaline and anxiety pumping through his veins ebbed away, and all he felt was emptiness. He almost began to wish Voldemort had found him. His aunt seemed to see the sudden change in his mood.

"Harry, you have been up in your room since you got back from school. You don't go outside, and you spent most of last summer outside. I don't see any owls going back and forth from your window anymore, and I want to know what is going on with you. Clearly something is wrong, and it seems like it may have to do with this Voldemort person."

Harry looked up at his aunt and saw a stern and almost harsh expression, but her eyes were still filled with concern. Harry took this his aunt's first attempt in fifteen years to listen to his problems and act like a mother. So he sat down on the armchair and began a very brief explanation of what happened at the end of the school year, even though he knew he should have been worried to tell Uncle Vernon about Sirius' death. The year Harry told the Dursley's about Sirius, Uncle Vernon believed him to be a hardened criminal and gave Harry more freedom than usual in fear of Sirius' retaliation if Harry was mistreated. Once he found out Sirius was gone he might go back to his favorite pastime of making Harry miserable. Now, so early in the morning as the words spilled out of Harry's mouth, he realized it didn't matter how Uncle Vernon took the news. Harry was already miserable, and besides, he was leaving Privet Drive soon.

When he finished, Harry leaned back in the armchair and let exhaustion take over him. All three Dursley's remained silent, until Aunt Petunia moved forward to help Harry out of the chair. "Go to bed, Harry. We can talk more in the morning if you like."

Normally, Harry would have been surprised by the words "if you like", but too tired to think, he dragged himself upstairs, threw himself on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.