Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is the property of JK Rowling, of course.
Thursday, July 4, 1996 - 6:00 am
Harry vaguely remembered the vision of Voldemort amidst a series of nightmares. He had woken up shortly after the vision, but did not have time to contemplate the meaning before he dropped off once more. Once again he was forced to watch his friends cry for help while he stood there powerless to aid them. Shoving the images aside, Harry threw on his clothes and jogged down the stairs. To his surprise, his uncle was sitting at the kitchen reading the newspaper. Harry could see an article about "several escaped convicts carrying dangerous weapons…" across the front page. Uncle Vernon looked up to see Harry reaching for the door, and a triumphant look came into his eyes.
"What are you doing sneaking out so early in the morning, boy?" his uncle demanded.
"I'm going for a run," Harry responded truthfully, wondering if this statement would be accepted.
"Why?" Vernon asked suspiciously.
Harry shrugged and answered, "To get in shape…"
"How do I know you're not meeting any of your friends?"
"None of them live around here," Harry said, purposefully forgetting Mrs. Figg.
"Well, you'd better make it a long jog, then, because I don't want you returning until I've left for work."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, watching his uncle begin reading his newspaper again.
Instead of stopping his route at the park, Harry decided to continue up the road, near where the Buchanans lived. He did not want to meet the family again and have to start a conversation, so he turned a block before their house. Harry did see the old man who gave him directions, and waved back chuckling when the old chap waved vigorously at him across the road. Harry thought it was odd that on this side of the park there were many joggers out, but on his side he could not recall a single one. Shrugging it off, Harry began jogging the way back to the house.
Once he reached the park again, Harry thought he could hear someone panting behind him again. However, every time he looked there was no one there. At the swing set Harry reached into his pocket and grasped his wand, before calling out,
"I know you're there…so come out."
To his surprise, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out from beneath an invisibility cloak, dressed in a muggle suit.
"Hello, Harry," the man greeted in his deep voice.
"When did I first meet you?"
"When a group of us escorted you to headquarters last summer."
"Okay…are you following me?"
"I'm afraid so. After you gave us the slip yesterday, we've set someone to always be with you outside the house and, if need be, to trail you."
"Did anyone think to tell me about this," Harry asked irritated, sitting heavily on the swing.
"Dumbledore felt it would be best not to inform you, unless you found out on your own. I'm rather embarrassed you caught on to me so quickly, but this suit is so hot."
Seeing that Harry was still unsatisfied, Kingsley began to elaborate slowly.
"We only watch you when you are outside the house. Otherwise, we are looking for anyone or anything suspicious around Privet Drive."
"And you won't leave, will you?" Harry asked.
"No," Kingsley responded without hesitation, looking Harry directly in the eye.
Without another word, Harry got up and began running again. He ran as hard as he could, hoping in the back of his mind the auror would not be able to keep up. Harry could not believe after everything that had happened Dumbledore was still keeping him clueless. The man might consider this something small, and thus not important enough for Harry to know, but it was these little things that kept Harry's trust in him. Dumbledore was pushing Harry farther away with each move he made.
Back at the house, Harry found a note on the kitchen table.
Dudley and I are out running errands for the day. There's plate of food in the microwave for you, so there's no need to touch anything else. When you finish wash your dishes and go to your room. You are not to make any mess, or use any of our things.
Harry's breakfast consisted of porridge and kippers, which he ate quickly. After putting away his bowl and spoon, Harry went to his room and pulled out Protection against the Dark Arts. Turning to the section on offensive spells, he began reading.
Although the best offense is a good defense, it is sometimes necessary to directly attack your opponent. There are many different ways in which to remove the adversary. There are three main categories: determination, deception, distraction.
The first method can only succeed through sheer determination. The objective is to shoot as many high-level curses as you can, as fast as you can. If you keep your adversary blocking and dodging enough, they will eventually make a mistake and fall prey to one of your spells. This approach requires the least amount of strategy and is thus most useful during an ambush or similar situation.
The second option, as the name implies, is to deceive the opposing witch or wizard into believing that your arsenal of spells is minimal and primitive. For this method to be useful it is advisable to only respond to your opponents spells with basic grade-level curses and jinxes; once your foe has become relaxed and overconfident, release a barrage of advanced spells to overcome him. In order to successfully carry out this method, your knowledge of shielding charms must be solid and your dodging skills more than adequate. While you are only casting simple jinxes and curses, your opponent will be using truly damaging spells.
The third technique is to distract the foe by using spells that he or she can dodge or block, and at the same time create a trap. This means that the spells you use to sidetrack your opponent must be serious enough to force your opponent to concentrate on them and not on the trap you are creating. This trap can range from transfiguration, to potions, to the strategic placement of objects from the surroundings.
Harry read the book for a couple of hours more, but he had yet to find any mention of actual offensive spells. Putting it away, Harry got the piece of wood he had practiced with yesterday and began running through his list of spells. He was getting better at remembering them all, and only had to actually check the list a couple of times to verify them.
However, Harry was distracted from his exercise, when his bedroom door was abruptly flung open to reveal the rotund form of Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped aside in surprise, especially as it was only around eleven o'clock and too early for his uncle to be home. The man's face was contorted with rage, more so than Harry had ever seen it. Vernon barged into the room, his arms flailing wildly, apparently unable to speak through his fury.
Finally he bellowed, "How did you do it!" throwing spit into Harry's face.
"Do what?" Harry asked, slowly backing towards his wand.
"Did you bewitch them or…or put some sort of enchantment on them!"
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, truly frightened.
The moment Harry placed his hand on his wand Vernon noticed what he was doing.
"DON'T YOU DARE," he screamed and lunged at Harry.
Harry was halfway through the body-binding curse when his uncle tackled him and yanked the wand out of his hand. Holding Harry by his throat, Vernon threw the wand into the hallway.
"You were going to do the same thing to me, weren't you?"
Harry was struggling to inhale, but managed to breathe, "Do what?"
"Do - do what?" his uncle spluttered. "You and your abnormality are the reason I got fired today. That's what you doing this morning, not running. You caused everything to GO BLOODY WRONG!"
Harry managed to twist out from his uncle's grip and started scrambling away.
"I don't have anything to do with that! Why would I want to get you sacked!"
"You're trying to punish me for giving you those chores! Well, you can't do anything without your stick. You didn't want to do those chores…well, now I'm going to make sure you can't."
Without delay, Vernon grabbed Harry's ankle and dragged him back. Harry tried to kick at the man, but he physically threw Harry against the wall. While Harry's attempted to get up, Vernon lashed out with his foot and caught Harry in the stomach, causing him to collapse. Harry tried to protect himself by curling into a ball, but his uncle continued to kick at his torso and head. When Vernon paused for a moment, Harry unbent a little but the man immediately kicked him under the chin. From then on, Harry did not remember anything.
Harry went in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. Occasionally, he thought he heard yelling downstairs, but he was never alert enough to find out. It wasn't until the afternoon that Harry awoke long enough to get his bearings. He was still lying on the floor, but when he tried to get up a very cold pain ran through his stomach. Deciding to just lean against the wall, Harry tried to figure out how badly he was hurt.
Everything was out of focus, but Harry could not see well enough to find his glasses. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and he had a split lip. His arms had taken the brunt of the beating and were now covering with many bruises and small cuts. Harry's torso was also covered with bruises, but the only thing that really hurt was his stomach when he moved. Oddly, enough, he did not feel very hungry, even though, from what he could tell, it was late afternoon.
Sighing, Harry tried to figure out what he was going to do. His wand was either in the hallway or in his uncle's possession - hopefully, the former, as Harry feared to think what the man might do with his wand. Hedwig was not back yet, so he could not owl Dumbledore, but maybe he could contact the order member outside. Harry remembered Kingsley saying that they would not watch him inside the house; they obviously had not expected his uncle to go mad, either.
Harry managed to crawl slowly towards the window and tried to push it open, but it would not budge. He looked up to see that it was locked and attempted to stand up, but the ache shot though him again. The pain was so intense, it caused Harry to gasp and crumple to the ground with a thud. Struggling for breath, Harry heard someone come up the stairs and enter his room.
"I thought you might try to escape," Harry's uncle whispered behind him triumphantly, "But I was ready…"
Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and threw him against the wall, again, making him almost cry out in anguish. Soon the sound of hammering was coming from the window, and Harry gazed up to see his uncle nailing boards across the frame. He had pulled the curtains to, so the slats could not be seen from the outside.
"Let's see you get out of this one," his uncle said, laughing wildly as he left the room.
Harry could hear at least three bolts slam closed on the outside of the door, before his uncle went back downstairs. After a few moments, Harry slipped into darkness once again.
The next time Harry awoke, it was completely dark, so his lack of glasses was inconsequential. He was still lying on the floor, but did not attempt to crawl to the bed in fear of the pain in his stomach. Suddenly, a flare of red light flashed between the planks boarded over the window; Harry crawled over and peered into the crevice. A few seconds later a blue blaze burst into the sky above the park. Disappointedly, he realized these sparks were not those of a wand, but instead those of fireworks. Harry reckoned the rockets must belong to the Buchanans, meaning that today was still the fourth of July. In the back of his mind, he half hoped that they might come and rescue him, but then he remembered he had not shown them in which house he lived. It seemed no one was going to rescue Harry Potter this time.
Friday, July 5, 1996
Harry woke to see the first rays of the morning sun spilling through the chinks and gaps of the wood around the window. He sat up slowly, and for a couple of seconds could not remember why he was lying on the floor. However, the memories of the previous day suddenly rushed into his mind, causing him to shudder in remembrance. He knew that he had to escape somehow and soon. Listening carefully, Harry could only hear the faint rumbling snores of his relatives; now, might be one of the few chances he could try to get out.
Crawling to the door, Harry lifted the flap of the cat door his uncle had installed a few summers ago and peaked into the hallway. To his surprise, Harry could see his wand laying but a few meters from the door. His uncle must have been afraid to touch it after he had taken it from Harry, yesterday. Harry put his arm through the hole and tried to reach his wand, but he could not reach it at all. Remembering how he had once used Lumos without touching his wand, Harry reached out and whispered, "Accio!" but still nothing happed. He tried a couple more time, but his attempts were useless. He had not expected it to work, but was still disappointed. The only way Harry was going to obtain his wand was to get out of the room.
Sighing in frustration, Harry backed away from the door and leaned against the side of his bed. He could not get to his wand; he could not owl anyone at headquarters; nor could he contact the Order member outside his house. If he tried yelling for help his uncle would surely stop him before anyone outdoors noticed. If only he could do wandless magic. Picking up the stick he had previously practiced with, Harry began reciting some of the spells he had memorized. For almost an hour, Harry tried to summon, levitate, and repair small objects around the room, but nothing came of his efforts.
Soon, Harry heard the others in the house begin to stir and could smell the bacon as his aunt cooked breakfast. His stomach growled and Harry remembered he had only eaten breakfast the previous day. Wishing someone would bring him some food, Harry tried to cast the spells once again.
Approximately, forty minutes later, Harry heard someone ascend the stairs and quickly stashed the stick under his bed. He tried to stand up, but the pain prevented, so he settled with sitting cross-legged on the ground. Harry did not want to give his uncle the pleasure of seeing him incapacitated. Soon, the man undid the locks on Harry's door and barged into the room. Upon seeing Harry still on the floor, he sneered derisively.
"Are you prepared to obey me now?" he demanded.
Harry nodded slowly, staring at his uncle's face. He did not plan to do so, but if his uncle believed him, Harry could escape.
At Harry's nod, Vernon smiled unkindly and said, "But how can I believe you? If I let you go, you'll probably go running to those freaks."
Uncle Vernon was becoming angrier with each word he spat, and soon was screaming.
"I don't think the message has gotten through to you! And how convenient it is that I'll be home to make sure it sinks in!"
Vernon then sprang forward and heaved Harry up by the front of his shirt. He punched Harry in the face and laughed as his nephew crumpled to the floor. Harry tried to crawl away towards the door, and managed to get his right arm through, before his uncle rushed forward and slammed the door closed. Harry felt his lower arm snap at the impact and cried out in pain. Vernon only laughed and dragged Harry back into the room. He began kicking Harry, causing him to curl up into a ball, once again. Instead of trying to protect head, as he had the night before, Harry tried to shield his arm and stomach. Unfortunately, Vernon seemed to notice this and aimed directly from them both. Harry yelled each time the foot made contact, until he was hoarse. Suddenly, Harry felt himself fall into blissful nothingness.
Harry did not know how long he had lay on the floor, but when he awoke there was a bowl of soup underneath the cat flap. He tried to struggle towards it, but the pain of his arm and other injuries forced him to stop. Looking down at himself, Harry saw he was covered in blood. The worst of his injuries seemed to be his broken arm and the gash down his right side. Luckily, his face only contained a large bruise in addition to his swollen eye and lip. Panting from his effort to reach the food, Harry lie back down and fell asleep.
Harry spent the next few hours in between awareness and oblivion, only vaguely remembering anything that occurred. At one point, he could hear yelling down stairs and actually caught a few words this time.
"You can't keep doing this, Vernon."
"I will do as I please, woman!"
"What if they find out, though?"
"Those threats were empty; no one actually cares about him."
"But the neighbors could hear…"
"I am the head of this house!"
"Vernon! This must stop!"
Harry heard a small shriek and the sound of a crash, before everything went silent again.
The oddest thing he remembered was someone talking to him softly. The person helped him onto the bed and then cleaned the wound on his side. Sometime later, the same individual fed him some of the soup. Harry tried to see who it was but with his swollen eye and without the glasses, he could not.
It was not until the afternoon that Harry felt he could sit up. It hurt incredibly, but he managed. Harry noted in the back of his mind that this pain seemed worse than that of the Cruciatus Curse. The pain of the unforgivable faded with the memory of it, only leaving the recipient sore and tired, but this physical pain renewed itself with each movement he made. After only pulling himself up, Harry was panting with the effort.
Harry tried to read to clock, and by holding it right in front of his face, he make out that it was around three o'clock in the afternoon. Remembering the strange person from earlier, Harry looked around but no one was there. However, he did notice that the two lists of spells he had created and his stick was sitting on the table beside his bed. Confused, Harry picked up the stick. It felt odd not holding it with his right hand, but currently he could not move the arm with feeling excruciating pain. Harry began reciting the spells at a paper ball, once again, with no results.
Harry tried for over two hours, before he gave up, exhausted. His voice had been hoarse to begin with, but now he could barely speak. It did not matter how hard he tried to cast a spell, he could not get even the simplest of them to work. Discouraged and frustrated, Harry threw the stick across the room. He immediately regretted the action, not only because the movement hurt his whole body, but also because, now, he could not even distract himself with the spells.
After merely sitting there for half an hour, Harry was beginning to fall asleep once more. However, a soft knock came from the door pulling him from the doze. Harry whispered, "Who is it?" knowing that it could not be Uncle Vernon - who would have just barged in.
"It's me, Dudley" came the equally quiet response.
After undoing all the locks, Dudley walked in.
"What are you doing here," Harry asked softly, causing his cousin to lean in to hear.
Dudley held up a bowl in his hand, which Harry saw contained porridge.
"And Dad wanted me to see how you looked."
Harry raised his eyebrow and Dudley looked away uncomfortable. Obviously, Vernon wanted to know how much damage he had inflicted.
"Where should I put it," Dudley asked, indicating the food.
Harry nodded at the nightstand, and Dudley placed it there, noticing the two papers sitting resting on top.
"What are these?" he asked curiously.
Harry paused for a moment before responding, "Spells."
Dudley's eyes became large at hearing this and he glanced at Harry. He looked like he might drop the papers in fright, but seemed to change his mind and looked at them again.
"You mean these words actually make stuff happen?"
Harry nodded slowly, surprised at his cousin interest.
"Would something happen if I said them?"
"No," Harry whispered, "even I would need a wand. Besides you still couldn't do it, since you're a muggle."
"Oh," Dudley said a note of disappointment in his voice, "what's a muggle?"
"A non-magical person"
Dudley put the papers back on the desk and turned to leave.
"Do you need anything else?" Dudley called over his shoulder.
Harry was about to say no, when he had an idea.
"Wait, Dudley…will you help me?" Harry said, trying to speak above a whisper.
Dudley paused, and slowly turned around, a worried expression on his face.
"I - I don't know."
"Please."
"What do you want?" Dudley asked nervously.
"I need you to get my wand. It's in the hall, near the bathroom."
Dudley's eyes had gone wide again and he was shaking his head.
"I c-can't. Dad's been watching me and mom, he doesn't want us to help you."
"But he wouldn't know you got it."
"Yes, he would. He knows it's there; he just doesn't want to touch it."
"Please, just -"
"No," Dudley said firmly, backing towards the door.
"Wait, there's something else."
Dudley paused and waited for Harry to continue.
"There's someone watching the house that could help."
Dudley jaw dropped as he said, "You mean they've got people watching us."
"Well, yeah…" Harry said, hoping he had made the right choice.
"Are you…dangerous or something?" Dudley asked, looking scared.
"No, they're supposed to protect me."
Dudley looked Harry up and down before mumbling, "They're not doing a very good job."
"I need you to contact them."
"But, I've never even seen them."
"That's because they usually wear invisibility cloaks."
"Invisibility cloaks…you must be joking."
"No, I'm not - go to the corner over there," Harry said, pointing to where his trunk was hidden.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Shrugging, Dudley walked over and looked around before turning back to Harry.
"There's nothing -"
"Keep going," Harry said impatiently.
Dudley walked on, and jumped in surprise when he nearly fell over the invisible trunk. He began feeling around, and Harry saw him muttering in disbelief.
"Go on, take the cloak off."
Dudley grasped the material and fell backwards when the trunk was revealed.
"But, how…" he sputtered at Harry.
"It's an invisibility cloak," Harry chuckled, but grimaced at the pain his amusement caused.
Dudley looked worriedly at his cousin, and then back down at the cloak.
"What…what do you want me to do?" Dudley asked, throwing the cloak back over the trunk.
Harry sighed in relief and told Dudley his plan. All Dudley needed to do was find the Order member and convince the person Harry was hurt and in trouble. His cousin's face became troubled as he explained, though.
"Dad's really gone off his rocker; it's worse than when we got those letters. He's been watching us like hawks, afraid we might help you or something. He hasn't even let me leave the house today."
"Then convince him you're on his side, somehow. Tell him you were beating me or something, when you go back downstairs."
Dudley looked dubious, but agreed. Suddenly Uncle Vernon's voice boomed through the house, calling for Dudley. The boy in question looked alarmed and he hurried down without giving Harry a second glance. Hoping his plan would work, Harry let himself drift asleep.
Harry was not able to sleep as he had desired and soon was completely awake again. Picking up the slightly warm porridge, he ate a few spoonfuls but found himself queasy and stopped. What Harry really wanted was to use the loo, but he knew his uncle would never let him out of the room, let alone near his wand.
Without anything to distract him from the pain of his injuries, Harry tried to lie as still as possible, hoping that without movement the pain might subside. Harry closed his eyes and began listening to the noises around him. Downstairs he could hear the drone of the television, it sounded like they were listening to the news, and he could smell the roast beef Aunt Petunia was cooking for dinner. He could also hear the sound of a lawnmower coming from the neighbor's yard and the twittering of some birds outside his window in the trees. Then, Harry thought heard a low hoot coming from just outside his window. Listening carefully, the sound came again a few seconds later, this time it seemed somewhat impatient.
"Hedwig!" Harry realized, sitting up quickly.
However, this abrupt movement caused the gash in his side to ache horribly, causing Harry to lie back down with a moan. At Harry's groan, the owl outside began hooting insistently.
"Hedwig, is that you?" Harry called from his prone position.
Another hoot answered him, in what he deemed an affirmative response.
"I can't let you in so you'll have to find another way. But you'd better wait until its dark…" Harry said, wondering, yet hoping, that she might understand him.
The sound of flapping wings came from the window, but Harry did not know if it meant Hedwig figured out what he said or if she was simply tired of waiting.
Still feeling the pain from moving, Harry touched his side and felt something wet. Looking down, he saw that the cut had started to bleed again. Harry pressed his hand against the wound, and ignored the additional pain, as he tried to staunch the blood. Eventually, Harry felt himself becoming lightheaded from the loss of blood and pressed even harder. However, this action caused him to fall unconscious completely.
Someone was shaking him roughly and screaming at him. The violent movement caused Harry to shout in pain and force his eyes open. To his disgust, Uncle Vernon's face was revealed to be mere centimeters away from his. Harry tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.
"Go to the bathroom," his uncle demanded pointing out the door.
Harry eased himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, and slid his legs off the bed. He slowly maneuvered himself up and took a few steps, but his body was too weak and he collapsed. Harry heard his uncle give an impatient grunt behind before he felt the man grab the collar of his shirt. Vernon dragged Harry out the door and into the bathroom, where he dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. The man quickly stomped out and slammed the door closed behind him. Harry waited for a few seconds for the pain to subside before he pulled himself up.
After using the toilet, Harry leaned heavily against the sink and pulled his shirt up to look at the wound in the mirror. It was very red and swollen, but it seemed the blood had stopped for now. Harry tried to clean it some by cupping water in his hand and letting it run over the wound, but he only succeeded in drenching his pants. Looking at his broken arm, Harry saw that half of his lower arm was bent oddly. If he touched it at all, it ached horribly so Harry just let it be.
Harry walked slowly to the door and leaning against the frame, opened it a crack to peer out. Harry had not heard his uncle go back downstairs and assumed he was waiting just outside the door. Gazing through the gap, Harry could see his wand about half a meter away. He was debating about throwing himself at the wand and trying to stun his uncle, when the door was flung open.
"Going to try and bewitch me again, were you! Vernon yelled, having seen where Harry was looking moments before.
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but his uncle punched him into the torso before he had time to think. Harry felt something in his chest crack, and lost his breath once he hit the tile floor. Trying to breathe again, Harry felt Vernon grab his left arm and pull him back into the bedroom. Vernon aimed another punch, at his head this time, but Harry managed to throw his good arm and prevent it from reaching his face. This seemed to anger his uncle even more, who began to pommel Harry's body almost nonstop. Without any way to protect himself, Harry welcomed unconsciousness, but this time it would not come. Uncle Vernon eventually seemed to tire and stopped attacking Harry, only giving him an occasional kick. With barely enough energy, Harry looked up at his uncle, who became incensed once again when he realized his nephew was still conscious but did not start the beating again. Instead, he turned jerkily and marched out of the room, making sure to secure all of the bolts.
Due to the immense pain, Harry did not move for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he rolled onto his stomach but immediately started coughing. Soon, he could taste blood in his mouth. After a couple of minutes, the coughing subsided and Harry was able to push himself into a sitting position. He was having trouble taking a deep breath, as each time he tried there was a piercing pain in his chest. Owing to this and the coughed up blood, Harry guessed he had at least one broken rib. His side wound was bleeding again and seemed to have gotten larger. No longer able to stand the pain, Harry passed out and slid to the floor.
Saturday, July 6, 1996
When Harry came around, it was still dark outside and he was still on the floor. Fortunately, his injuries were not hurting quite as bad, even though he could not move without feeling as though every piece of his body was aching and throbbing. Shifting into what could pass as a slightly more comfortable position, Harry heard a soft cooing coming from the far wall.
"Hedwig?" Harry whispered.
A louder hoot answered him, and Harry smiled in delight.
"Come here, girl," Harry called holding out his good arm.
She flew over and landed on his arm, but the extra weight was too much. He tried to lower his arm slowly to the ground, but wound up dropping Hedwig. She hooted unhappily at the rough treatment, and Harry tried to soothe her.
"M'sorry girl," he whispered, rubbing her gently on the back.
She soon settled down, and contentedly enjoyed the attention. Now that Harry had Hedwig back, he could send a letter to headquarters for help. If Hedwig had managed to get into his room, she must be able to get out. With some hope in his heart, Harry drifted off to sleep.
He was woken some hours later by the sound of a plate hitting the floor. Harry turned his head and saw his aunt's hand retreating hastily and heard her hurried footsteps back downstairs. The plate contained some eggs and a piece of toast, which Hedwig was eyeing from her perch on top of the desk chair. Harry was starving but doubted he would be able to keep any of the food down, even if he managed to reach the door.
"Go on, Hedwig," Harry called to his owl.
She swooped down and retrieved the bread, which to Harry's surprise she dropped by his side. Hedwig landed at his feet and gazed at Harry until he feebly began to nibble at the corner of the toast. Seemingly satisfied, she flew back to the plate of food where she swallowed a few mouthfuls of eggs before flying to her cage.
Harry watched her for a few moments, before looking around the room. If he wanted to send a letter out, he was going to have to find a quill and parchment. He knew his trunk was on the other side of the room, still hidden. Slowly, Harry got to his feet, using the wall for support. Ignoring the pain, he took a few tentative steps forward but fell to his knees almost immediately. From that position he began to crawl forward and eventually reached the trunk, panting in pain. He leaned against it for a couple of minutes, before taking off the cloak and opening the trunk.
To his utter surprise, the books Harry had ordered from Flourish and Blotts were neatly stacked on top of the clutter. When Harry had repacked his trunk, he did not take care to organize it, so everything was scattered about in a muddle, but he distinctly did not remember setting those books aside. Pushing his confusion away, Harry found a scroll of parchment containing only a few doodles, but could not find a quill or ink. He could only search with one arm, and had to put his body at an awkward angle to do so; as a result, Harry could only stand a few seconds of the pain this caused before he had stop and rest. After ten minutes of searching, he was still at a loss.
Then Harry heard the pounding of steps in the stairway, and quickly struggled to close and hide his trunk. In his hurry, he forgot to put the parchment back in the trunk, so was still in his lap when his uncle entered the room. Unfortunately, the first thing Uncle Vernon noticed was Hedwig sitting in her cage.
"Where the hell did that RUDDY BIRD COME FROM!" Vernon bellowed at Harry.
"I don't know; she just showed up last night."
Vernon reddened in the face and began around the room suspiciously until his eyes fell across the cat flap.
"So you think you could sneak a letter to your friends. Shouldn't they have rescued you by now?" Vernon sneered.
"They'll come once they know what you've done," Harry tried to yell, but barely managed a hoarse shout. However, he was starting to doubt this himself.
"But they're not going to find out. Today's the day you have to contact them, and I'm going to tell you exactly what to put in that letter," Vernon stated smugly, holding out a pen and lined-paper.
Harry took the two items, not knowing what else to do.
"Now address it to whomever you're supposed to and record word for word what I say. And don't try any funny business, because I'll be checking it over."
Not able to use his right hand, Harry held the pen uneasily in his left and began to write.
Dear Remus,
My summer stay with the Dursleys has been pleasing so far. My aunt and uncle are treating me very kindly, and I even had a nice conversation with Dudley yesterday. Aunt Petunia has been cooking excellent meals and I have enjoyed watching the telly with Uncle Vernon. I must say, I have not been very gracious for everything they have given me these past fifteen years. I hope you and everyone else are doing fine and I can't wait to see you lot at the end of the summer.
Sincerely,
Harry
At the end of the letter, Vernon snatched it out of Harry's hands and began reading.
"Why is it so sloppy! I told you -"
"I write with my right hand,' Harry interrupted, pointing at his broken arm.
Vernon grimaced in distaste, and continued reading. Once he was done he handed it back to Harry.
"Now send it off with your…creature," he said eyeing Hedwig in disgust.
"Here, girl," Harry called and placed the letter in her beak. "Make sure Remus gets this as soon as possible."
After grasping the letter carefully, Hedwig flew to the cat flap, and managed to hop through it, although it was a tight squeeze.
"That's what I thought!" Vernon said proudly. "Now I can board that up too…"
Uncle Vernon left in a hurry, and Harry could soon hear him pounding against the door with a hammer.
Once Vernon finished, he shouted through the door, "Let's see you send a letter to those freaks now!"
Harry was thankful his uncle had only been worried with the letter this morning. It seemed Uncle Vernon thought the message had finally sunk into his nephew. Harry wondered if Remus would realize that the words in the letter were not his own. His previous letter had made it clear he wanted to leave Privet Drive as quickly as he could. Hopefully, Remus would be able to read between the lines.
Harry also wondered if Dudley had contacted the Order member outside. Surely, they would have responded already if they knew. It seemed that mode of rescue was unavailable. Unless he thought of something else, Remus was his last hope.
Harry spent the next hour or so trying to think of an alternative escape plan, but he nixed every one he created due to his severe injuries. In fact, each breath he took was significantly harder to pull than the last. Whatever had snapped in his chest was causing Harry to take quick shallow breaths. Soon his vision started fading and once again he blacked out.
Harry was only awake for a couple of minutes over the following few hours, and each time he caught glimpses of the same mysterious person who had seen before. Yet again, he was resting on his bed without remembering how he got there and occasionally he remembered eating a few spoonfuls of broth. Harry was never awake long enough to see the person in detail though, especially without his glasses. All he could see was that he or she had short dark colored hair.
Some hours later, Harry was finally able to sit up against the pain, but, of course, he was now alone in the room. His stick and the lists of spells had been replaced on the nightstand, and all the plates and bowls of food were piled beside the doorway. Harry looked and saw there was indeed a bowl almost full with broth.
Confused, Harry put the unexplained person from his mind and picked up the stick to practice the spells once more. No matter how hard he tried though, he could not get the slightest bit of magic to emerge from the piece of wood.
Soon, however, Harry could hear the sound of heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Uncle Vernon entered the carrying some lengths of rope, a piece of cloth and a maniacal look in his eyes. Harry watched his uncle approach the bed, unable to even back away from the madman.
"I've got a job interview this afternoon," he finally stated, standing at the edge of the bed. "And I am not going to give you the chance to ruin this one too."
Vernon then proceeded to leap onto the bed and pin Harry down by grabbing him around the neck. Harry tried to struggle but each movement shot pains through his body. Soon his uncle had tied his wrists together and then his ankles. He then took another piece of rope and attached his wrists to the foot of the bed. The last thing he did was to stuff a sock into Harry's mouth and then tie the piece of cloth around his head to hold it in. Uncle Vernon looked over his work and nodded satisfactorily.
"Where are your friends now, freak? I've been doing whatever I want and they haven't so much as lifted a finger to help you! After fifteen years of leeching off my hard earned living, you're finally getting a taste of how I really feel about you!"
Vernon turned and left the room. Once he had secured all the locks again he shouted through the door, "And don't bother trying escape; there's no one here to help you! I've sent Petunia and Dudley out running errands while I'm away, so you're all alone like you should be!"
Soon Harry heard the car pulling out of the driveway and felt tears prick his eyes. He really was alone; no one knew he was being tortured by his own family. His aunt and cousin were too afraid of Uncle Vernon to try and help him. The Order thought everything was normal, and no one was going to save the famous Harry Potter this time.
Harry lost track of time as he lay there and drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, he tried to loosen his bonds but only managed to rub his wrists and ankles raw, and the wound on his side had started to bleed again. Every piece of his body was paining him, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. For the last time, Harry felt the pull of unawareness and let himself fall.
Sunday, July 7, 1996
Harry did not come around the next morning. His mind was trapped between the waking world and a realm of nightmarish reality. He could not force himself to wake, nor could he completely immerse himself into the nightmare. He could feel the pain as he struggled against the ropes and shouted through the piercing hurt in his chest and the cloth in his mouth. Each movement made his entire body felt as though it were aflame.
Yet, in his mind he was suffering a different kind of pain. Instead of the physical hurt, he felt in the real world, Harry was experiencing a deep anguish as he watched images before him. Scenes were racing in front of him lingering just long enough to reveal their meaning. Harry watched in horror as each of his friends screamed in agony through torture inflicted by an invisible tormentor. Every one of them looked Harry directly in the eyes with a hateful expression full of blame. Through it all Voldemort stood by Harry's side and relished in his agony, laughing as Harry flinched in shame at their accusations.
Without warning the cord connecting his wrists was undone and Harry's arms flailed in the air as he tried to stop the images before his eyes. Someone grabbed his wrists and forced them back down. Harry cried out as they grabbed his broken arm and stopped struggling for a moment. He could hear someone calling his name in the distance and followed the voice trying to escape the gruesome setting.
Harry's eyes shot open and he jerked in fright when someone's face was revealed directly about his own. Harry tried to get away but the person was holding him firmly in place. Suddenly his glasses were placed on his face and Harry stopped moving in surprise upon seeing the haggard and worried expression of Remus Lupin before him.
"Harry, it's alright. We're here now," Harry heard the man say before he was lost to oblivion once again.
When Harry next woke, he lay still not daring to move. He vaguely remembered seeing a face during his litany of nightmares. He could not recall if this had actually happened or if it was just a trick of his deluded mind. Finally, opening his eyes, Harry turned his head to the left and to his great relief saw the sleeping form of Professor Lupin.
Almost crying in joy, Harry lifted a hand to his face and realized that his wrists and ankles were no longer bound and that he was wearing his glasses. Delicately and hopefully, Harry picked up his right arm and found that although it was incredibly sore the sharp pain he had felt before was gone. In fact, Harry could not feel the piercing pain in his body at all. Looking down at himself, he saw that although he was still bruised and ached all over, all of his major injuries seemed to be healed. Harry tried to whoop in happiness, but all that came out was a weak cough. However, this noise was enough to wake the professor beside him. Lupin looked up in surprise and smiled widely when he saw Harry looking back at him.
"Harry, you're awake," Lupin stated happily.
"How long was I out, Professor," Harry asked worriedly, noticing a vile taste reminiscent of Skele-grow lingering in his mouth.
"Just a few hours, but it was touch and go for a while. You had us very worried, Harry."
"Us? Who else…"
"Well, I was the one on guard when your cousin gave us the heads up. I sent a message to headquarters so Kingsley, Tonks, and Mad-eye came almost immediately."
Harry smiled faintly upon learning that Dudley had gotten the message across, and made note to thank him later.
"And Harry, call me Remus. I haven't been you professor for some time now…and it makes me sound old," Lupin said, smiling also.
Harry nodded slightly, finding it odd to call the man by his first name.
"If you're feeling up to it, Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what happened."
Harry's smile faded immediately, as he said, "Are…are my relatives home yet?"
"Yes, they returned about two hours after we got here. Your uncle immediately came up here and began screaming at us to get out. We tried to reason with him, but…"
"What happened," Harry asked nervously.
"Your uncle started raving about how you deserved to be like this, and Tonks became so angry she sent a mild pain curse at him," Remus responded smiling slightly in remembrance. "Now everyone is downstairs in the sitting room."
Harry did not say anything for a few minutes, trying to think how he would explain the man's behavior.
"Harry, if you're not ready -"
"No, let's just get it over with."
So Harry described how everything had escalated when he refused to obey his relatives from the start. He told Lupin how the man had been violent from the beginning and how he actually attacked Harry once he lost his job. Harry made sure to include how Dudley was willing to help and how neither Dudley nor his aunt agreed with the behavior.
Harry wondered if Lupin noticed how he would not actually say Vernon's name aloud. He could not bear that the thought that his uncle had done this to him.
"Harry, why didn't you tell anyone? You didn't mention it in your first letter and the second -"
"It was too late by the time I wanted to tell you, and he forced me to write that second letter."
"The letter was the reason I decided to take watch today. It didn't sound like you at all."
"Why didn't any of the guards hear me, I - I usually yelled when he attacked," Harry asked not wanting to admit how pathetic he had been.
"Harry, you're not weak," Lupin said picking up on the insecurity in Harry's voice. "You may not have liked your relatives, but you at least trusted them. No one should have gone through what you did."
Harry stared at the wall, still feeling ashamed of himself. The world expected him to stand up to Voldemort, and he still could not handle a muggle.
"The guards didn't know because we usually aren't in the yard," Remus continued. "We typically walk around Privet Drive to make sure everything's in order. But now we're going to make sure there's someone near the house at all times."
"Wait, you mean I have to stay here?" Harry asked horrified.
"Dumbledore feels it would be best if you remained here for a while longer."
Harry sat up quickly, only grimacing slightly at the pain it caused.
"Harry, you really shouldn't move around too much. Madam Pomphrey advised you stay in bed for the next couple of days."
"Professor, I can't stay here! If this place is supposed to protect me, I might as well give myself to Voldemort."
"I'm sorry, but I have to follow Dumbledore's orders. Think of it this way, in just a couple of weeks, you'll probably be able to join us at headquarters."
Harry slumped back down on the bed at this statement and glared at the ceiling. Privet Drive and Grimmauld Place, the last two places he wanted to be and the only locations he was allowed to go. While Harry was lamenting his powerlessness, Remus rose from his chair.
"I know you don't like it, Harry, but I'm afraid it's the only option we have."
When Harry still would not look at him, Remus turned to go.
"We have to return to headquarters now, but I'll be back in the morning. Moody has given your uncle a very specific explanation as to what will happen to him should he try to do anything. But just in case, we have removed the boards from your window and the guard will be just outside. Goodbye, Harry."
Remus waited a moment, but Harry would not acknowledge him. Harry felt betrayed by everyone around him. He could not believe that Dumbledore even considered the possibility to allowing Harry to remain at Number 4 Privet Drive, let alone forcing him to do so. Harry did not feel safe staying with his relatives in the slightest and yet he was not allowed to leave. Dumbledore seemed to believe that as long as Harry was hidden from Voldemort, it did not matter what else happened to his precious weapon.
Tired of staying in bed, Harry sat up and swung his legs over. In the process he glanced at his nightstand and noticed something laying there. Reaching over, Harry grasped his wand and stared at it resting in his hands. The sense of security he felt holding it amazed him. Without his wand, Harry was helpless. He knew that if he intended to survive, he would have to find a way to defend himself without the protection of his wand.
Harry placed the wand into his pants pocket, noticing that his outfit had been changed at some point. He got up slowly, using the bed and wall as a support. Letting go, he walked a couple of laps around the room until he felt roughly stable. The first thing Harry wanted to do was get a bite to eat, but he was uncertain about going downstairs and meeting Vernon. The Order might feel certain that the man was reserved and safe now, but Harry felt different. He had never seen Vernon act in such a way and did not want to chance it happening again. No matter what, he had to be prepared.
Harry walked to his trunk and opened the top, after removing the invisibility cloak, grabbed the scroll of parchment and managed to find some ink and a quill. He sat down at his desk and began making a list of his goals. He knew he might not even accomplish some of them, but he had to at least try.
Methods of Protection:
Wand Magic
Shielding
Wandless Magic
Apparition
Occulmency
Weapons
His list was short, but the contents would allow him a wide and varied array of methods with which to defend himself against almost any type of attack. If he could master at least a little in each of the fields he would no longer be helpless. So, Harry began searching his limited selection of titles for ideas and methods.
A little while later, a quiet knock came from the bedroom door. Ceasing his reading, Harry told the person to enter, guessing it must be Dudley. He was proven correct in his assumption, as Dudley walked in carrying a plate of food. Harry motioned his cousin over, and Dudley placed the food on the desk. Dudley seemed much more nervous now that Harry was no longer confined to his bed.
"I really want to thank you for what you did," Harry stated. "You probably saved my life."
"I guess we're even then," Dudley said, grinning a little.
Harry didn't smile back though. He knew that if it weren't for him, Dudley would not have been in trouble in the first place.
"I think you have the right to know why those dementors were in Little Whinghing last year."
"I already know," Dudley revealed. "Those people who were over earlier explained it to us. I didn't really understand it all, but mom seemed to know what they were on about."
"What exactly did they tell you?"
"The mass murder that disappeared when you were a baby has come back and is trying to finish you off," Dudley stated matter-of-factly.
"And you're okay with that," Harry asked, not understanding how his cousin could be so calm.
"You've lived with us for the last fifteen years and nothing's happened, yet. And all of those people are trying to protect you."
"But now that Voldemort's back, he will be actively trying to find me."
"So that's his name, those people wouldn't say it before."
"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry quoted to himself.
"Huh?" Dudley asked confused.
"In the wizarding world everyone's afraid to say Voldemort's name."
"Then why aren't you?"
Harry shrugged and said, "I wasn't raised in that world. I didn't even know Voldemort existed until I turned eleven."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Harry said, wondering what would make Dudley question him beforehand.
"Those people said that every year you've been at your school, something happened that almost killed you."
Harry nodded, remembering well each of the events.
"Then, why do you go back?"
"Because…" Harry trailed off.
He thought the answer was obvious but when he tried to explain, the words would not come so easily.
"I guess it's because Hogwarts was the first place I really felt at home. Everyone there had the same…abnormality that I did. To them I was just another normal kid."
"Well, almost," Harry thought to himself. Dudley and he might be on speaking terms now, but Harry was not about to reveal his unwanted fame.
"And believe it or not, I actually feel safe there. Those things did happen to me, but only because I went looking for them."
Dudley stopped his tirade of questions with a thoughtful expression on his face. Finally Harry asked his own query.
"Did they tell you anything else?"
"No, they told me and Mum to leave so they could talk to Dad alone. I tried to eavesdrop but I couldn't hear anything."
This caused Harry to gain a pensive look of his own. What could the order want to tell his uncle that they would not tell the rest of the Dursleys? Maybe they were just warning him of further consequences. Not knowing what else they could have discussed, Harry looked up to see Dudley heading towards the doorway. Once Dudley reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at Harry.
"Oh and thanks."
"For what," Harry asked puzzled.
"For saving my life, I never did thank you."
Harry smiled to himself and turned back to his note-taking. Maybe life here at Privet Drive would not be too dreadful.