WARNING: Graphic violence in this chapter. Mentions of vomit and blood. Pedophilic intentions and actions (nothing graphic though).
..:::Chapter Four:::...
Monster
Petunia and Vernon were not happy when the news of Robby Johnson reached them. A call had been made out to all parents and Petunia had rushed out of her afternoon tea with her girls to come pick Harry and I up. She had looked very upset when she ushered us towards the car, face pinched in worry and suspicion.
Vernon got a call at work from his wife. He had been quite angry at being interrupted at work but made a promise to not take anymore late hours for the unforeseeable future.
Before he got home Petunia called for both Harry and I and with stern but caring voice (surprisingly also directed at Harry) went over safety rules and guidelines with us. Despite having always disapproved of the two of us spending time together she made it very clear that we were both to stick together and in a group from now on, and always in the presence of a trusted adult. They were all rules I already knew but I humoured her anyways and nodded along. Petunia also forbade Harry from doing anymore chores outside (much to the boy's delight, as he hates gardening). Then she gave us both a tight hug. My shock at her behavior almost rivaled my shock at the sudden dark twist of events in our lives.
Vernon had not been happy with Harry's cut chores and tried to reason with his wife but Petunia put her foot down for once towards the large man and refused. Saying that her nephew's safety was more important than trying to work any freakiness out of him. The sight had warmed my heart despite her debatable choice of words. Still, it was a good change.
Weeks and months past, and as the bodies of the boys began piling up as did the tension and tightened security in our lives. School became a little quieter as Timothy Shoe's blaring lack-of-presence made itself known in our small classroom. Oh the kids still played and laughed, but there was a thick air of fear and tension there too and a subtle lack of energy behind their words and actions.
Some students were also missing from the class. Their parents scared enough to take them out of school and enroll them somewhere else when it became clear that St. Grogory Primary and Little Whinging were the primary hunting grounds for the loose killer. The sudden decrease in students did nothing to alleviate the sense of fear permeating through the town. Little Whinging has always been a respectable place with no major incidences besides the occasional automobile accident. A resident serial killer was not only unexpected but wholly unprepared for too.
Christmas break passed without much fanfare. I, per usual, got showered in more expensive presents than I recieved in my previous life. Most of it unusable for me besides being dust collectors. Surprisingly, Petunia took the time to carefully pick out a present for Harry. My cousin had been pleasantly surprised, and bemused, when his aunt handed him a silver wrapped box with his name written on it. Harry was quick to recover and offered her his biggest smile and a loud "thank you" before gingerly unwrapping the present.
He got a new set of clothes. A nicely knitted navy blue sweater, a crisp white undershirt, and a pair of jeans. All in his sizes.
Harry and I had both been in awe at the present. For so long Harry had been forced to wear my old and faded clothing or cheap gray second-hands, both options that hung loosely on his smaller frame. Pierrs Polkiss and his gang often likes to make fun of Harry for his clothes.
To an outsider the present may not be much, but to Harry it was the world.
Vernon had been equally as surprised as his wife and had shot her questioning looks throughout the night, which she ignored in favor of preparing Christmas dinner in the kitchen. He had been even more unhappy when Harry excitedly tried on the clothes and wore them around the house all day. Petunia did make it clear to Harry that he would have to wash the clothes himself and keep them in nice order, least he wear them down. He promised that he would.
Break ended and school started with an unhappy surprise.
Gabriella's parents, fearing for their daughter, had sent her away to stay with her grandparents until the town was safe again. Anthy had cried for an entire week straight and nothing Harry could say could comfort the usually dogmatic blonde girl. It put Harry is a bad mood, as Gabby had also been his friend but also because he couldn't talk to Anthy while she was so upset.
Today is now the third week of the new semester. Anthy recovered from her initial grief and began talking to Harry again. They're currently in their, now usual, corner of the room discussing something. Harry is wearing the outfit that Petunia gifted him. He looks really good in it and Anthy agrees, much to Harry's embarrassment. He had blushed so hard when she complimented him for the first time, it was really endearing to see him so flustered in the presence of the little girl. I'm not sure if that crush will go anywhere, they are just kids after all, but it's still cute to see. I wish I had a camera.
Or a smartphone, but those haven't been invented yet. Tis a shame.
We just finished a math block where Mrs. Miller quizzed us on our times tables up to five. I finished first naturally and proceeded to take out my current reading material (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, it was a challange to keep my laughter to myself while the rest of the class took their quiz). Harry followed at a close second, both due to me tutoring him over the years and his own personal interest in architecture, and the only reason he didn't finish faster is because Harry still needs to work on his penmanship. Though that is something that will come with age and experience. I still struggle a bit with finer motor control since muscle memory is apparently not something that is passed over through lives.
The rest of the class takes a bit longer to finish. Anthy, who has always struggled in math for all that she excels in the more creative aspect of her education, finished last much to her disappointment. I had offered to give her additional tutoring a few months back but the young girl has a surprisingly stubborn streak and declined.
The bell rings just as Anthy sets down her pencil and Mrs. Miller reminds us all to stay where the teachers can see us during recess and releases us from class.
I decide to stay in, as usual, and read instead of playing outside. Anthy is already excitedly pulling Harry towards the door and I just give the two a quick wave goodbye. Though, as much as I love Douglas Adams, his classic is a series I've already read countless times in my past life. Despite all his ridiculous humour my adolescent mind is already wandering and my hands are itching to open up that wand movement theory book I picked up on our last trip to the wizarding world. I've been reading through that text at a slower pace than normal, very much enraptured in all the complexities of channeling magic. As such, I'm currently only about halfway through the book on Chapter Sixteen, where Augusta introduces various types of woods and wand cores and how they may affect the movement.
Based on the weight, constitution, magical conductivity, and natural traits of certain wand materials it changes how effective certain spells are. Such as an owner of a aspen wood wand would find it easier to perform duel-inclined spells than, say, regular household charms. In incanting an offensive spell the owner of the aspen wand wouldn't need to flick quite as sharply or as hard at the end of the motus (for most spells favor flicks or jabs to finish) as a owner of, let's say, a hazel wand. But the aspen owner, when performing a regular charm would need to emphasize the elongation and fluidity of the ending flick to garner better results. In both cases, all wands would still have to flick sharply for offensive spells and elongate for mundane charms but an aspen wouldn't need to do so as much for the offensive and would have to stress the elongation. Spell work is all essentially the same, but as with language it must be personalized to the individual for the best results. Just as no two person says the word "orange" quite the same no two wizards perform a spell quite the same either.
Another interesting thing is that it's not only the individual movements in a motus that create a spell, but also the length and position of the rests (or lack of rest) between them. A motus is comprised of two main parts, the tomus or the different movements such as a flick or swirl, and the recensere (though most people shorten it to sere for convenience) defined as the rests between each new tomus. If a wizard is not clear with their sere then the spellwork will become messy and unclear, leaving the sequence of tomus to bleed into one another and messing up the spell. There is an almost musicality to it.
In a dance sequence, if a dancer does not take the correct beats between movements then they'll eventually be off tempo and the dance will be wrong. Just the same, if the dancer does not take the correct amount of beats for each movement they will also be thrown off time. This, coupled with the fact that the wand composition and the wizard themselves can change the spellwork (or in the analogy, the tempo of the beats), is why new witches and wizards struggle with new spellwork despite following directions fully. It takes time and practice, with little unconscious adjustments to the motus to successfully perform the correct spell and garner the desired result.
Like I said before, it's all terribly fascinating.
In my musings on the intricacies of wand work, the movement outside the window almost escapes my notice. Luckily my body is positioned in such a way that my eyes are almost immediately drawn to the shadow. And at the sight of it I bulk up, shooting into a tense position. Instantly my sympathetic nervous jumps into action causing my breath to seize and come out short and fast as my heart leaps in my chest.
The shadow is across the street in a vague shape of a person. By the height and shoulder width I deduce that that the person is probably a man, but I can't see much else than that. Which is strange, because the sky is clear and the sun is out. The man should be fully visible, especially to my magically enhanced vision.
But he isn't. Instead, the man seems to be draped in shadows, all discernible features hidden from my sight. There is also a faint urge in me to look away when I stare at him. It sets me on edge. More so when I realize that his position is set up perfectly so that he has a clear view of the playground outside.
This time my heart leaps into my throat. What business does a grown man have with watching children? I slowly set my book down, not bothering to save the page. I stand from my seat, careful not to take my eyes of the suspicious figure across the road from the school, and slowly make my way towards to the front of the class where Mrs. Miller is grading our quizzes. She looks up when I reach her desk.
"Ah, Dudley. May I help you with something?"
"There's a man across the street," I say to her tensely, still eyeing the silhouetted figure on the sidewalk. "He's been staring at the school for a while now."
Mrs. Miller looks up at me alarmed and quickly whips her her towards the window following my line of sight. After a moment she makes a noise, but instead of one of concern it's one of confusion.
"Dudley, I don't see anybody there," she comments in confusion. She looks back at me with a concerned and stern look, "Are you sure you saw someone? It's not nice to play games you know. Especially not with a monster on the loose. You could cause a real panic."
Despite what she's saying, there is clearly a shadowed man standing across the road staring intently at the playground. Fear grips my heart even tighter as my mind races with questions. I can only reach one logical conclusion:
Magic.
I'm probably the only one that can see the person, if they even are a person, and that it won't do me any good to push the issue. If the person across the street is really using some sort of magic to become undetectable (explaining his darkened presence and my inability to discern any features) then there are probably few people that'll be able to help me in this situation. Certainly not Mrs. Miller at least.
So I bite my lip and quickly offer my teacher and apology, "Sorry. I thought I saw someone. I probably imagined it."
She raises a brow as if she's not quite sure whether to believe me or not. But I've always been a good student, never caused trouble (except for that first day nearly two and a half years ago) so she just sighs and lets it go. "It's fine, just be more careful next time."
I nod and walk back to my seat, still keeping the shadowy figure in the corner of my eye. I sit back down and open my book. But I don't read a single word for the rest of recess. Instead, I subtly watch the man for the entire time. Up until the bell for recess ends and the students begin filing back into the classroom. At which point the shadowy figure walks away.
When Harry and Anthy walk into the class, relief floods me. I know that the suspicious figure hadn't moved for the entire duration of recess but I have no idea what his magical abilities and capabilities are. All I know is that he had creepily watched children play for nearly twenty minutes, has some unknown ability, and that all the victims up till now have all shared an uncanny resemblance in some way or form to Harry.
I may not be Harry's mother but I can't help my natural maternal instincts screaming bloody murder. I don't have concrete proof that this shadowy figure is connected with the gruesome murders (and after stealing the walrus' newspaper, I know exactly how gruesome those deaths were), but my gut instincts have never been wrong before.
Someone is definitely after my baby. And they're closing in.
I don't see the shadowy figure everyday. After a few weeks I've noticed that he shows up only on Wednesdays and Fridays and only for brief time periods. He must have a job or something which elevates his probability of being a wizard higher. I've already ruled out vampire (all victims had plenty of blood left at the crime scene, and I'm not sure how they react to sunlight in this world), and he likely isn't a werewolf (the violent murders do not share any notable pattern with moon phases). I'm not too knowledgable on other magical humanoid-creatures and it's only now that I'm regretting picking up a book on it during our summer Diagon Alley trips.
I don't ever notice the shadowy figure near our house though, which lowers the probability of him targeting Harry. But my gut instincts say otherwise so I don't bother ruling out that. There is also the fact that there are blood-wards around the house (barely discernible to my naked eye besides a slight red shimmering occasionally), and perhaps the man knows about Mrs. Figg and her numerous numbers of intelligent kneazles. There is always at least two or three cat-like creatures watching the house at any given moment so perhaps the stalker has been deterred by their presence. I can't know for sure but I don't want to take any chances.
So Saturday, I pretend to be sick and I stayed locked in my room all day. It became hard to fight of the exhaustion when night came but I managed to stay awake for the entire 24-hour duration, in which time I noticed no hide or hair of the mysterious stalker.
I still continued to keep an eye out for him after that day though, especially on Wednesdays and Fridays on which he always shows up like clockwork.
Then one day things escalate.
"Bye Harry," Anthy calls back and waves cheerfully at her friend which Harry returns just as enthusiastically. Anthy's father smiles fondly at the interaction as he leads his daughter out of the classroom (too bad he's a married man and I'm seven, because he is one hot dad and also great with kids).
The afterschool rule is still in effect and we're all waiting for our parents to come pick us up. Though things have been getting a little more lax recently since it's been nearly two months since that last abduction. The lack of attacks lulling everyone into a false sense of security.
Harry gets up from his seat and walks over to join me at mine. I glare at him when he snags one of my apple slices off of my desk. He just offers me a cheeky smile shoves the entire slice into his mouth. I roll my eyes muttering something about bad manners as my gaze shifts over to the window out of habit.
I know I'm not going to see anything since it's a Tuesday, but my paranoia and suspicion have made looking out the window an unconscious habit.
So it comes at a huge surprise when I see the shadowy figure, not so shadowy anymore and those are definitely wizarding robes, leaning down to talk to what is clearly a St. Grogory student. I also notice that my eyes unconsciously want to move away from where the pair are standing (the suspicious wizard looming over the unsuspecting boy) in what I've already deducted as a notice-me-not charm.
Harry most notice me tense up because he places a hand on my arm and offers me a concerned look, "You okay Dudley?" He follows my gaze and looks confused when he obviously cannot see the same thing I'm seeing.
I nod stiffly, not taking my eyes off the horror right outside the school. Then I stand abruptly, startling Harry. Mrs. Miller gives me a questioning look.
"I need to use the bathroom," I announce to her robotically, unsure of what I'm want to accomplish. My body had moved on it's own when I stood and now my mouth is acting without permission. All I know is that I need to do something, lest I be responsible for another victim. Currently it seems I'm the only person capable of seeing the wizard, a phenomena that will require more observation in the future. I'm the only one with any chance of doing anything.
Mrs. Miller nods her consent. "Just be quick and come straight back to the classroom," she orders. I voice my understanding, offer my cousin a quick "stay here Harry", and walk straight out of the room. I trust that he'll be smart enough to stay put like I told him, though he probably won't be happy about it.
It's a panicked rush as I sneak my way through the school. There are security guards posted at every entrance so those are out of the question. Quick thinking leads me to go to my original faux-destination and I slip into the boy's bathroom. This way, if anyone saw me walking through the halls they won't sound the alarm. There is also a window in the restroom, a bit high, but big enough to fit someone my age. Luckily no one is in the bathroom.
The struggle is in climbing up to the window (using the stall walls as a hold) and hoisting myself up. I notice that it's getting harder to pull up my own body weight and I make note to cut more out of my diet -especially sugar. Petunia likely won't be happy but I'd rather her be briefly miffed with me than be obese.
The tumble to the ground from the high window is a bit scary. But tucking my body and rolling on impact lessened the damage. A few cuts and I'll definitely have bruises later but nothing worse. I quickly double check my surroundings for people and take off around the school towards where I'd last seen the wizard and the boy.
I thank my lucky stars when I rush around the building and they're still there. Although, by the looks of it the wizard is getting a little more pushy and has his large hands on the boy. Bile rises up in my throat as I slow to a walk and approach the two.
Now that I'm closer I can see that the boy is from the class right next to mine. His name is Bryce Simmons and his gray-green eyes are almost as brilliant as Harry's and his neat mop of black hair is only a shade lighter. I've spoken to him two or three times in all the years we've been to school together. Though whether or not he'll recognize me is another story. Hopefully the boy is smart enough to play along.
"Bryce!" I call out to him as I get closer to the two. The boy in question whirls around in surprise and something akin to relief floods his eyes. Perhaps he isn't so stupid, though I do have to wonder how he came to be out here all alone. I continue, "Mrs. Emerson has been looking for you," I name his teacher, "she says that she's got your homework."
The wizard looks at me in shock but it's brief and he quickly schools his expression into a friendly smile. I cataloge his features and commit his face to memory. He's wearing black robes, has dirty blonde hair, and looks to be in his thirties. That strong nose (rather wide) and sharp jaw looks familiar but I can't put a finger on it.
"Ah, hello there," the wizard greets before Bryce can reply to me. "You must be Bryce's friend from school. What's your name little one?"
"Corey Beckett," I lie. No need for this creep to know my real name. I smile innocently, "Bryce. We should go or Mrs. Emerson is gonna be mad."
"O-oh-! Yeah!" Bryce stutters out, starting to pull away from the wizard. I have to fight the narrowing of my eyes the hands gripping the boy's arms tighten and pull him back. Bryce looks back up the the wizard with thinly veiled fear.
"Now, now," the wizard says soothingly. "I'm sure Mrs. Emerson can wait. But Bryce and I have some important business to get to. Isn't that right Bryce?"
"I-" the boy opens his mouth, eyes shifting back and forth, unsure of how to answer. I beat him to it.
"But Mrs. Emerson is going to be reeaaally mad," I argue childishly. "Besides, I've never seen you before. Who are you?" I demand. Hopefully, he'll be stupid enough to provide me with a name. Next chance I get I'm reporting him to the auror authorities, Dumbledore finding out be damned. Children are in danger.
The wizard offers me a closed eye smile, "I'm a friend."
I raise an eyebrow, "That isn't a name."
"I'm a friend," he repeats again, a light bite to his voice this time and I fight to narrow my eyes.
"He says his name is Jason Hencurse!" Bryce blurts out suddenly. Fear for the boy shoots up through me when I notice the sudden violent expression on the wizard's face, that appears just as quickly as it disappears. This is a really dangerous situation. This Hencurse is clearly not a stable man and I'm not sure what'll set him off. Clearly he didn't want me knowing his name.
I decide to keep playing it innocent and I scrunch up my face, playing up my natural cuteness as a kid. "That's a weird name. I've never heard of Hencurse before."
Hencurse smiles strained, "That's because it's an old family name Corey." My mind races with ideas to try and fix the situation.
"Anyways, Bryce we reeaaallly have to go," I strain. "Like REEEAAALLLY have to go. I'm gonna get in trouble otherwise." A pout for effect. I even reach out to grab his hand in mine, carefully though while keeping an eye on the wizard's face for any sudden changes.
I nearly gasp when Hencurse roughly tugs Bryce away from me.
"Hey now, you shouldn't just grab people. That's rude," he chides at me.
Speak for yourself you fucking pedophilic creep.
I snap at him angrily, "Well Bryce is my friend and he's okay with it. I don't want to get in trouble so we have to go right now!" I'm beginning to panic. The situation is quickly falling out of my control.
The wizard seems to consider me for a moment, eyes calculating and careful. Again he smiles and I can't help flinching back when he reaches a non-threatening hand out. "I'm sure Mrs. Emerson won't mind, why don't you come with us Corey?"
Hell no.
Unsure of what to do I debate using physical force to get Bryce away. The wizard probably won't expect an attack, and a sharp kick to the shin will probably stun him long enough for me to get Bryce away from him. But what after? Hencurse can easily pull out his wand after recovering and then we'll be fucked. I'm not even sure if the notice-me-not charm will lift off of Bryce if I can get him away from the monster. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest as perspiration begins to gather on my face. My flight-or-fight instincts kick in as I prepare to lunge into attack.
"DUDLEY DURSLEY!"
My tense body falters as I peek up panicked. I curse my bad luck when I see Mrs. Miller, looking furious, crossing the road towards me. I take a quick look back at Bryce to see relief fill his expression at the sight of the teacher. But all that grips my heart is dread. The boy doesn't know that I'm the only one who can see him.
Hencurse looks momentarily startled, then his eyes narrow as he registers that I had probably provided him with a false name. A sick grin spread across his face that only I can view. In a split moment of rash and impulsive decision making, I disregard my mask of a primary-schooler and lunge forwards toward the pair.
The wizard doesn't seem to expect the sudden movement because he jerks back in surprise, but also tugging Bryce back with him. I swipe my arm forwards viciously but my arms are just shy short of reaching the pair as my fingers brush uselessly against Bryce's green jacket.
But I only have a moment for dismay at my failure to separate the boy from his would-be-killer to settle in when a hand roughly grabs my shoulder and pulls me away.
"Let go!" I cry out shrugging the grip roughly off of me as I reach out towards Bryce and Hencurse again. Bryce and I meet gazes only briefly before a loud crack sounds deafening throughout the street. My mind can't comprehend what just happened as the atmosphere distorts before me and I'm falling through empty space where the two once stood.
"What in the world!" Mrs. Miller exclaims at the loud sound as I fall to my knees on the concrete. She whips her blonde hair around looking for the source of what she probably perceived as a gunshot. But I'm not even paying attention to her anymore.
My hands grasp uselessly at the ground as reality settles in. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat as I begin to sob.
I just sentenced a boy to his death.
"What were you thinking Dudley!" Petunia cries out at me. She looks like she wants to shake me but settles for pacing back-and-forth in the living room instead. Her face is scrunched up in fury and worry. More fury than worry. "How could you do something so reckless."
I stare straight ahead, not bothering to meet her gaze. My eyes are glazed over as I watch the wall in front of me expressionless. I'm seated on our couch as Petunia paces and scolds me for leaving the school grounds alone. But I'm only listening to her with half an ear, the other is too preoccupied with the nightmare on repeat in my head.
Just that single moment. That loud crack. Then the empty space before me.
Oh god.
I want to cry, sob, break down and beat the ground. But I can't. My body just feels so numb and my mind is on an endless tormenting loop. I can only sit there on the couch dead.
"... and if you had been hurt!" Petunia suddenly stops in her pacing. Her face morphs into an expression of horror as tears gather in her eyes. Abruptly she has her arms around my smaller frame and sobs into my shoulder. "Never ever do that to me again," she cries. "Never make me worry like that again Dudley. What would I do if something happened to you?" I blankly note her shivering form.
Mostly, her words strike something dark in me as I think to Bryce's own parents and what they're probably going through right now. I never got to hear what happened since Mrs. Miller had immediately called Petunia, and Harry and I had been picked up promptly. Likely, as the students began to leave or when Bryce's parents arrived they would've noticed the boy's absence. The police are probably scouring the school right now.
Petunia is still sobbing into my shoulder. I'm reminded that I should probably comfort the woman. Absent-mindedly I reach a hand up and rub her back soothingly and murmur, "Sorry Mum. I didn't mean to make you worry. I promise not to do it again."
She babbles something incoherently into my shoulder as I continue to rub her back. Her arms tighten around me as if she's worried that I'll disappear if she doesn't hold on tight enough. Part of me feels guilty at worrying her so much but a larger part of me is too preoccupied with all consuming thoughts of Bryce's fate to follow that line of thought.
I have to go to the aurors, I realize. I have to go and report this before it's too late.
Later that night when Petunia has calmed down and Vernon has been updated with the situation they sat me down and went over safety rules. Dread was all I felt thought when they began enforcing more rules and regulations. I realize in horror that the chances of me being able to successfully leave and report this with the wizarding authorities had drastically declined. I wasn't to go anywhere or be anywhere without an adult. Harry and I had been confined to the house off of school and neither of us were allowed to leave the classroom during break either.
I had tried to protest but had been met with strict glares and promises of more restrictions if I broke any rules. I was also given the punishment of doing dishes for the next two weeks. I knew it was bad when even Vernon agreed relent to me to do manual labor.
When I finally went to bed that night my mind was filled with plots and ideas for how I could get away without being caught. When I wasn't plotting guilt ate me alive and nightmares plagued me whenever I closed my eyes. Least to say, I did not sleep that night or for many nights after that.
Still, what I was going through probably had nothing on what Bryce had to endure.
I tried everything I could think of.
But after Bryce's disappearance was announced the false sense of security Little Whinging had been lulled into was blasted away as the entire community snapped back into awareness. The security in school grew tighter and there were more community night patrols being organized. I was blocked at every turn and any openings for escape I discovered closed as quickly as I found them. It was a frustrating two weeks.
Then they found Bryce.
When I got the news I had ran to the bathroom (much to Mrs. Miller's anger) and threw up my entire lunch into the toilet. Harry had shot me several concerned looks when security dragged me back into class.
The bags beneath my eyes grew worse after that announcement and I couldn't even bring myself to look at the article on Bryce's murder. Though based on hushed whispers throughout the town it had been the brutalist yet.
And it was all my fault.
I should've tried harder. Whether that was to save the boy when he was in front of me or get to the wizarding authorities, either way I should've tried harder. Screw the repercussions, I should've found a way even if it meant openly defying my parents and being confined to my room for the rest of my life. This isn't a game. This isn't a children's book full of magic and wonder wherein the hero always wins in the end.
This is real life. And an innocent boy is dead.
"You aren't paying attention."
I blink up lethargically to see green eyes narrowed at me in accusation. Harry has a cute little pout on his face that I can't find the energy in me to fawn over. Between us is a couple of broken pencils lying uselessly on the ground.
"Oh," I intone. My lack of response seems to further agitate the seven-year-old. In a uncharacteristic fit of anger Harry roughly pulls his tiny hands from mine and crosses his arms across his chest.
"This isn't going to work it you're just going to daydream all day," he accuses. Something about his red and distressed face stirs me from my lethargic sleep-like wake. Harry continues, "It's like you haven't been here for weeks now." I frown as pinpricks of guilt stab at my gut.
Harry is right. I'm smart enough to recognize the telltale signs of depression in my latest behaviors. Actions such as not paying attention, lazing about, a distinct lack of energy, and the inability to work up effort to do anything. It's just that everytime I try to do anything or think to hard, I all can imagine is how little Bryce would never be able to do anything again. I keep seeing his frightened little face flashing before me. It makes me just want to curl up and die again.
But… Harry still needs me, and I've been letting him down.
"'M sorry Har-bear," I apologize. "I've just been having a hard time, especially with…" Should I tell him what's been bothering me? He's just a little boy, but I did promise to share my thoughts with him as much as possible. I swallow, "...especially with Bryce's death."
Harry looks at me in surprise, "You were friends with Bryce?"
"Something like that," I allow. "We weren't close. We didn't hang out or anything, but we did share a very important moment." Yeah. The moment where his life was forfeit. "It hurts that he's gone now. I feel like it's my fault."
A moment of silence passes between us and I can see that Harry's mind is churning and calculating what my words meant and how to respond. A beat and his eyes light up with comprehension. I wonder what he came up with.
"Well…" Harry begins, "I don't really know how you know Bryce. But I don't think it's your fault… No, it's definitely not your fault." I'm actually a little startled by how unwavering his confidence in those words are. "Unless you are the one who kidnapped him and killed him it's not your fault. You aren't the monster that took Bryce away. It's their fault whoever they are."
I'm shook by those words. I know I've had a profound impact on Harry's personality and intellect but a seven-year-old shouldn't be as smart as Harry is. As insightful as he is. It only cements my opinion that Harry is a very special little boy and I have no doubt that even if he wasn't the boy-who-lived he will one day shake the world.
A sad little bubble of laughter escapes my mouth as my mind fully processes his words. Harry looks alarmed at my reaction and his face read questioning concern. But I just shake my head and allow the first tears since that day on the sidewalk to fall from my eyes. I do feel guilty. The guilt is eating me alive. But it's not like I could tell anyone what happened that day that monster took Bryce. The guilt has just been festering inside me for all these weeks, and to hear it from someone else's mouth that it isn't my fault… Well, it's a pretty significant effect on my brittle emotions. Somehow, Harry's words have brought forth my bottled feelings but also channeled me with a sense of relief.
I laugh again. How pathetic. A grown woman being comforted by the words of a toddler.
"Dud? You okay?"
I'm not sure whether to shake my head or nod. I'm kinda a mix of emotions right now and I'm unsure of how exactly I feel. I settle for a noncommittal noise which does little to pacify Harry. He scowls at my response and moves towards me.
Tiny warms arms wrap around my shoulders and pull my head in towards an equally tiny chest. I make a questioning noise through my quiet sobs but I only feel Harry shake his head as if to tell me to accept his treatment.
Surprisingly, my blubbering dies down to slight sniffles. I feel an urge to laugh again, but that'll probably worry the seven-year-old anew. So I just sit there and allow him to comfort me silently. Our pencil pet project sits to the side forgotten. We'll have to fix those later since Vernon won't be happy to find destroyed supplies and blame will undoubtedly be placed on Harry.
"Harry!" We hear Petunia call from down stairs. "Come help me set the table!"
The boy in question shifts from his spot and pulls back, but still keeping me in a hug. He looks at my face determinedly, searching for something. He seems to find whatever it is he was looking for because he nods and stands up. Harry stalks across my bedroom floor to the door and calls back downstairs, "Coming Aunt Petunia!" He leaves.
I'm left wondering what just happened. I glance to the forgotten pencil for a moment and sigh. Hurriedly, I gather them up into my hands and hide them underneath my mattress. Harry and I can practice magic later.
I notice that my face is sticky with tears. I wrinkle my nose at the unpleasant feeling and walk over to my dresser where a box of tissues is at. I snag a few and begin to wipe at my face when I notice a slight movement in the window above the dresser.
My body reacts before I can perceive the sight before me as my heart spikes into a rapid beat and my breath hitches. I nearly fall backwards in my shock. Familiar fear crawls up my back.
Because there, way down the street if Private Drive, nearly unseen, is a tiny black figure cloaked in shadows.
The newest sighting set me on edge. I had been so panicked that I had stayed up the rest of that night and periodically checked the faint shimmer blood wards around the house. By time morning came around I had lost any and all appetite.
My tired and stressed condition must've been obvious because Petunia had exclaimed in worry at the sight of me. She kept pressing her hand to my forehead all morning to check to fever and I had to continuously tell that that I was fine. Harry, likewise, also kept shooting me concerned looks.
I could see what they meant when I went to the bathroom later. The boy staring back out at me in the mirror would've sent me into shock too. Pale faced, dark rings, lackluster and droopy hair, and an all around sickly appearance. It certainly wasn't a pretty sight and it did look as if I was sick and unhealthy.
I didn't have much of an appetite for the rest of the day either and handed off most of my lunch to Harry, who continuously shot me troubled looks all day. He insisted I eat but I waved my cousin off. Anthy had been a little annoyed that Harry wasn't paying much attention to her as usual but allowed him to play mother hen when she saw me. Mrs. Miller's reaction was somewhere along those lines too and she had offered to have security take me to the health room, which I refused.
I was a little annoyed. I'm fine. I'm just a little tired is all, but within good reason. Paranoia kept me awake for most of the night and kept me alert for most of the day. I'm more attentive than I've been in weeks which is a good thing. I have to keep an eye out for the monster after all. I had to keep an eye out for Harry.
Petunia was not happy when she came to pick us up. She demanded to see my lunch box which I showed was void of food. I didn't tell her that Harry ate most of it of course, and luckily the toddler didn't rat me out either. I threw him an appreciative expression which he returned with a look of worry. But he still kept silent.
I'm just not hungry. And it's not like I need the extra food anyways, I'm already slightly overweight.
I did relent to eating dinner however, especially since Petunia looked like she was going to bring the issue up with Vernon. Harry kept glancing between her and I all throughout dinner, a guilty look on his face.
Once again I didn't sleep much that night. The paranoia that Hencurse was watching the house was too strong. I probably couldn't have slept even if I wanted to. Still, the blood wards shimmered so prettily down at me, keeping me company through the long night as I rested my head against my dresser and stared out the window.
My appetite didn't improve the next day.
And so the pattern continued. I'd stay up on lookout for Hencurse and I would avoid the prying looks and questions from my family while I gave up my lunch. Harry also stopped taking my lunch so I took to distributing it among the rest of the class. I just wasn't hungry, besides I'm used to going without much food from when I had to share with my siblings in my previous life. I know how survive on minimal amounts of nutrition.
I probably would've eaten if I had known the consequences of my actions.
Day five of my self-conducted watch for Hencurse is on Friday. Mrs. Miller's class along with Mrs. Tyler's class are both gathered out on the field for PE. Both teachers are dressed for outdoor activities as they explain the rules of the game we're going to be playing.
I'm not really paying much attention to either of them. Most of my attention is past the iron fence keeping us in as my eyes scour for any sign of a shadowy figure. The rest of my attention is on Anthy and Harry talking animatedly at the back of the crowd of children. I'll have to remind them not to be so loud during instructional period next time, least they both be scolded again for disruption. At least both of them look happy.
I barely hear the the command to get to our respective sides of the field. I stand quickly and immediately regret my decision when black swarms my vision and I feel my body sway slightly.
"Woah, Dudley are you okay?" One of the boys in my class Justin calls out concerned.
I shake my head, trying to ward off the dizzy spell. I clears after a second and I blink disorientated, "Y-yeah. I'm fine."
He doesn't look like he quite believes me but nods his consent and runs to join the rest of our class. I take a little longer to follow but eventually I'm surrounded by children. I'm not even sure what game we're playing.
There's a whistle and suddenly children are running all around me. I stare in confusion as a loud ringing pulses in my ears. My head is fuzzy. There's a noise, perhaps a shout, and someone knocks painfully in behind me. I lurch forwards in surprise and the next time I open my eyes my face is in the grass.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that this is the result of not eating enough and not getting enough sleep. My stomach churns uncomfortably as I struggle to my feet. Whoever ran into me has already run off to wherever.
Aimlessly I begin to run. I'm probably supposed to go towards that mass of children screaming and running around the center of the field. My legs word on autopilot as they carry me across the field. My breathing begins to constrict and very quickly I grow out of breath. The wozziness of my head grows worse and the ringing in my ears (in my head?) swells. I don't realize that I should probably stop running.
Once again there's a shout of worry but I can't comprehend what it's saying. All I know is that black dots are swarming my vision again and somehow I went from running to toppling over in slow motion, the grass steadily approaching my face.
My vision goes black before I hit the ground.
I open my eyes to white.
I flinch back as a groan wells up at the back of my throat. I squeeze my eyes close instinctively to protect my throbbing pupils and head from the intense lighting. I note that I had a really terrible migraine. What happened?
Actually, the better question is where am I?
I wait a moment before risking opening my tender eyes again. The light isn't as harsh as before but I still have to squint to keep my retinas from flooding with too much illumination. I glance around in confusion taking in visual ques to find out where I am.
It looks like I'm in a hospital.
Why am I in a hospital?
"Hello?" I croak out, I wince at the tender state of my throat. It's dry and scratchy and it feels like I haven't drank water in days. And now that my dehydration has been brought to the forefronts of my attention I realize how thirsty I actually am. I need water.
I attempt to move but my entire body feels sore and uncooperative. There is a sharp prick of pain by the fleshy part of my forearm. My attention immediately goes to that point and I can see that I'm hooked up to an IV there. I make a note to remember not to tug at that area. Wouldn't do to accidentally pull the needle out.
There's a shuffle right outside the curtains keeping my privacy before someone pushes them out of the way. A kind looking nurse peers in at me, all pink cheeked and smiling. She steps in and closes the curtains again.
"Oh good, you're awake," she chirps at me. She walks around the bed and quickly examines my vitals and gives my physical body a quick check over. She hums in approval while writing somethings on a clipboard I hadn't noticed before.
"Alright," she continues. "Everything is looking good. You're probably thirsty right? Wait here, lemme get some water for you." She sets the clipboard down and walks out of my bed space.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes because it's not as if I can go anywhere anyways. I'm tempted to look at the clipboard she left behind but I'm having trouble working up the energy needed to sit up and lean over. It doesn't matter much because the nurse returns not long after.
"Here you go," she says handing me a cup of water. I weakly grab it in the hand not connected to the IV as she moves to adjust the bed and sit me up. She grabs the clipboard again, much to my disappointment, as I sip the water slowly.
"Okay Dudley," she says with a smile while I drink. "My name is Nurse Adley, and I've been taking care of you. Tell me Dudley, can you remember what happened before you woke up?"
I pause in my drinking as my mind begins to work to remember. What did happen before this?
"I…" My voice feels a little better now that it's properly moist. "I remember being at school on the field for PE class."
"Good good," Nurse Adley exclaims. "Go on."
I purse my lip as my brain struggles to recall, "... I was running and…" Everything is coming up blank from this point on. "Did… Did I faint?" She nods.
"The doctor noted that you haven't been eating," Adley stated in a slightly scolding tone. "Your mum and dad also agreed that you haven't been eating much. Because you haven't been getting food in your belly you ended up fainting." She gestured to my stomach with her pen, "Remember Dudley, we all need food to be able to do things. Not eating can be very dangerous."
Her tone of voice annoys me a little, as if she's talking to a child. I'm not a big fan of being treated like a kid when I'm not. I have to remind myself that this lady doesn't know me and hasn't learned how to treat me. And of course, there is also the fact that I have been acting like a child by making stupid decisions such as not eating.
"Also noted here is that you're severely sleep-deprived," the nurse continues. "Do you know what deprived means?"
I nod, annoyance spiking again.
"That's good, just remember that we all need to get a lot of sleep to okay. Not eating and not sleeping is very bad for our health."
I want to snap that I know all that but I keep quiet. I know all this but I had ignored my knowledge in favor of hazardously pursuing a paranoid path of response. For days on end I had continuously deprived my body of necessities. As loathsome as it is to admit that I was wrong, I had made some pretty bad decisions for the last week or so.
Wait… How long have I been in the hospital. It couldn't have been that long but the level of dryness my throat had woken up to spoke of 24 hours at least. I decide to voice my concerns.
"How long have I been asleep?" I ask.
Nurse Adley's response is not one that I wanted to hear.
"For about a week. Your parents have been out of their minds with worry you know."
A WEEK?!
My heart rate picks up quickly as my body immediately works itself up in response to the alarming information. A week is a long time. Anything can happen in a week. Oh my god, what if something had happened? I haven't seen Hencurse in a while but you never know. If something had happenedtoharryohmygodwhatdoIdo-
I quickly cut my hysterical train of thought of as the more rational part of me speaks up. Yes something bad could've happened during the week that I was out but that doesn't mean that something bad did happen. I shouldn't jump to conclusions and get myself all worked up like that.
Slowly but surely I begin to calm down and my breathing evens out. But still, I cannot shake the feeling of foreboding that accompanied the nurse's answer.
I go with the next most logical course of action after finding out how long I had been fainted for.
"May I speak with my parents?"
At this Nurse Adley bits her lip and something I can't place flashes across her face. I'm immediately on guard and suspicious. She tries to smile at me but the damage is already done, everyone has their tells and her's were screaming at me that something was wrong.
"A-ah," she stutters slightly, eyes avoiding mine. "Your mum and dad are a little busy right now."
"Busy doing what?" I press on. That was also suspicious. Petunia doesn't work and she's usually available. How does this nurse know that she isn't?
My questioning seems to make Adley uncomfortable because she brusquely stands up and moves towards the curtain. She flashes me a nervous smile, "I'll go get the doctor now and I'll try and get ahold of your parents. I'm sure they'll want to tell you what happened themselves-" She catches herself, "I mean, they'll tell you why they're busy." She scurries away, tail between her legs.
Tell me what? What happened?
I get my answer much later that day when Petunia arrives at the hospital to check me out. The doctor gives me a look over and proclaims me healthy enough to return home, but with a prescription of supplements to help my body recover from it's nearly two weeks of perpetual starvation. Petunia agrees to feed me bland foods and work me up to more solid meals before whisking me away to the car, face pinched in a way that tells me she's worried.
When I ask her what's wrong Petunia seems hesitant to answer. I notice the dark bags beneath her eyes, which could be due to my hospitalization but something tells me it's more than that.
Her tired answer breaks my world for the second time that month.
"Diddykins, I'm sorry luv… Harry is missing."
Unlike with the knowledge of Bryce, where I had been an empty husk made of guilt and a sense of uselessness, this time comes with a sense of urgency and all consuming panic. I had been practically choking on my overwhelming emotions as Petunia had drove us home. Apparently, the reason why she and Vernon had been so busy was because they've been dealing with the cops for the past two days since Harry had been taken right out of the school campus.
As soon as we got home I rushed upstairs and barricaded myself in my room. Petunia had shouted after me with concern thick in her voice but gave up when it became clear that I wasn't going to answer. She allowed me my space for now.
Which was perfect because of what I had to do next.
Upon locking myself up in my room I quickly pull out my stash of wizarding books, then frantically sorting through them for anything relevant.
Hencurse, that monster has my poor baby. He has Harry. All my fears over the last eight months are coming true. Oh god, he has Harry. And lord knows that he's doing to him. What he has done to him in the past two days.
I find what I'm looking for in the first year charm book.
I don't have a wand to properly perform the spell Point Me, but I hope that all my years of practice at wandless magic will aid me in this endeavor. I have to get creative though as I pick my way around my room in search of a possible substitute.
As I brush past my bed I suddenly remember those broken pencils hidden beneath the mattress. Broken pencils that Harry and I have both work our magic upon. I have no idea if that'll help in anyway but I have hope.
I hastily pull out one of the broken utensils. I grip the two halves in my hand and squeeze and wish hard. It takes a lot longer than if Harry and I were working together, or even if Harry had been working alone, but eventually I feel the wood grow warm between my hands as the two pieces fuse back together. Ten minutes have passed since I started on fixing the pencil (feeling quite drained both physically and mentally), ten minutes I didn't know if I could spare.
So I hasten my actions as I adjust my grip on the utensil to hold it out in my upwards facing palms. I focus on the pencil intently, perspiration dotting my forehead as I began channeling magic from my core.
"Point Me: Harry Potter," I enchant.
The piece of wood sits in my palm unmoving and still, mocking me with it's lack of motion.
I growl, "Point Me: Harry Potter!"
It still doesn't move.
I cry out in frustration, as my feelings of inability and helplessness begins to choke me. So with all the fervent emotion of hate, fury, and desperation I can muster I shout.
"POINT ME HARRY!"
A hot energy surges inside of me, rolling up and over and giving me a vague sensation of queeziness. Except I don't want to throw up, instead I feel power and strength rolling into each and every single one of my cells, lighting them up and energizing them. I can feel the thrum of magic pulsating through my veins, leaving me breathless.
I haven't felt like this since that very first day I experienced magic.
Though this isn't as much of an explosion as it is a roar of pure power shifting and awakening inside of me. My magical core (and oh how I can feel it so clearly now) flexes with vigor and might as if it were just another muscle in my body. I wonder how I've ignored it's presence up till now.
And the most miraculous part, is the slowly spinning pencil dancing in the air above my hand. It spins lazily before suddenly stopping in a single direction. My eyes widen.
Then I'm off to action. I quickly collect the darkest cloths in my closet, those easiest to move and and least likely to get caught on anything, donning those then grabbing my bag. I carefully open the door to my room and peek out to make sure that no one will notice me.
Petunia is in her shared room with Vernon doing something so I take the chance to sneak downstairs silently. I rush to gather up anything I'll need such as a flashlight, a lighter, and after brief consideration I slip one of Petunia's sharpest kitchen knives into my bag. Then without hesitation I sneak out of the house and into the cool twilight air.
One things I notice immediately is that I can't spot any of Mrs. Figg's kneazles that usually littered her lawn and fence. That strikes something in me but I don't have time to ponder their missing presence as I begin to follow the path my magically channeled pencil is pointing me in.
It takes me on a rushed walk across the town for nearly forty minutes. I'm breathless as the walk goes on but not as out of breath as I usually would be. I attribute it to the magic thrumming through my body, which is also making my mind sharper and my reaction time faster. I'm not sure how long this state will last but I hope it'll last until I have saved Harry.
After climbing and jumping countless fences and yards in my attempt to keep a straight line, eventually I come to an area of Little Whinging that I've never been to before. The houses here are sparse and separated out, the perfect place to scream and not be heard. By now, the last rays of the sun lighting the sky red has faded as twilight turns to dusk. Darkness stretches across the town and foreboding fills the air.
I reach a broken down and abandoned house. I don't bother to check if the Point Me charm goes past the house when I realize the faint notice-me-not spell covering the building. I fight the urge to look away as I carefully approach. I cancel the spell by retracting my magic and stuffing the pencil into my pack as I sneak around the side of the house.
I want to just hurry and and get Harry out already but it'll just make the situation worse if Hencurse was to realize I'm here. I don't know how he'll react in such a situation, but it's a given that it won't be good. Luckily, he either doesn't know how to set up wards or didn't bother to because I walk onto the property without seeing any sign of protection other than the notice-me-not charm.
There is a moment of panic when I stepped closer to the house the the facade of an abandoned building fades away to show a clearly inhabited home. I had froze in my movement and stopped breathing for a good minute. When Hencurse did not appear I figured it was fine.
So I sneak around the house assessing the situation and trying to find both the best way to get in and the best way to get out. Of course, I also have to find out where in the house Hencurse is keeping Harry. I'm tempted to perform another Point Me charm but I'm not sure if the presence of foreign magic will alert him to me. I decide that it'll be better to play it safe and do this the traditional way.
No one seems to be in the silent house. I haven't heard a single noise since I've arrived but that could just mean a muffling spell. I hate not knowing more about magic. But everything is silent though.
Which is why I nearly screamed when someone spoke behind me.
"Dudley, is that you?"
I whirl around in shock, ready to lash out at Hencurse. I freeze in shock at what meets my eyes instead.
"It is you," the faded grey form of one Bryce Simmons sighs in relief. The meek looking boy is floating three inches above the ground with his arms wrapped around himself in fear. I stare in horror at the gaping hole in his head where his left eye should've been. His right leg is bent in an awkward position and his grey cloths are covered in some dark liquid.
"H-how…" I whisper in horror. "You're a ghost."
Bryce's face crumples into sadness and he nods solemnly, "Yeah... After," he shudders, "He tortured and killed me, I suddenly woke up like this." He looks down at his transparent hands with grief. "I was so sad and so cold and I could see my body on the ground. Aren't I supposed to go to heaven? Have I been a bad boy? I didn't understand…" He looks so scared and small and every bit the terrified child he is. I feel the need to hold him and comfort the poor dead boy.
"When Jason came back I hid," he says in a shaky voice. He looks up at me with his single fear-filled eye, "You're here for Harry right? You're here to save Harry right?"
I nod as hope fills me, "You know where Harry is?"
Bryce nods, "I don't know why I didn't go to heaven but I want to help Harry," he says with conviction. "Jason isn't here right now, but he'll be back soon. But you have to be careful," the ghost boy warns, "because he has magic and can teleport."
"Yeah," I reply, "I know. Hencurse is a wizard."
Bryce's face does a funny thing, "A wizard? How do you know?"
"I'll explain later," I say. "Let's just get Harry first and get you both out of here."
"Oh… But I can't leave…"
I blink in alarm, "You can't leave?" Bryce shakes his head despondently.
"I've tried but I can't leave, if I go too far I'll just appear here again."
My wrack my brain for a solution. I want to save Harry, but I don't want to leave Bryce here either. Especially since it's my fault he died in the first place.
"Alright," I started. "We'll save Harry then afterwards I'll go to the wizarding police men and tell them about Hencurse. They'll come and arrest him and I'm sure they'll be able to help you."
Bryce is surprised at the knowledge of wizarding police but agree to the plan. He directs me to an unlocked window that I use to slip in while he phases through the walls. I look to him for further instructions and he points to a discreet door in the kitchen. I silently follow behind the floating boy to the door. There's a large lock on it.
I look up at Bryce, "Do you know where the key is?"
He shakes his head, "I think Jason may have it."
I curse under my breath as I try to figure out what to do next. I end up pulling the pencil from my bag, noting the cracks in it from channeling magic, and holding it up to the lock. Despite my apprehension at using magic here I can't see any other way I can get past this obstacle. I reach far into my memory for the famous spell used in the original series.
"Alohomora," I whisper, focusing on the image of an unlocked pad in my head. It takes several moments of hard focus, sweating and channeling magic from deep in my core, while the spell worked to move them tumblers inside the lock before there is a click then the padlock falls open.
The pencil snaps in my hand, worn from the constant channeling of magic, and I stash the pieces away. I pull the lock from it's slot on the door and, likewise, stash it away in my pack. I swing the door open, briefly observing the stairs descending into darkness, and begin my descent.
Why does it always have to be cellers?
I grab my flashlight as I walk down the stairs, surprised at how deep they actually go. As Bryce and I descend lower into the house the air grows thicker and more musty. The distinct sharp scent of iron also grows stronger and I feel the urge to throw up. Blood. And a lot of it.
The moment my foot hits the bottom floor of the cellar I spot him.
Harry is curled up on a dirty old bed (there are dark brown stains that I don't even want to think about), a single chain wrapped around his ankle keeping him confined to a reduced radius of space. His clothes are dirty and ripped in some places and I feel hot blinding anger flash through me at the sight of bruises in the shape of hands on his wrists. But the need to free my baby cousin overrides any feeling of anger or sickness at the sight of his abuse. I rush over to him.
Harry is sleeping then I get over. I take a moment to catalogue any overt injuries then I examine the cuff around his ankle. There's a tiny key slot and my makeshift wand is broken.
I begin to shine my light around the room in search for anything to help me free my cousin. What I see shakes me.
Splattered across the walls of the cellar are countless pictures of Harry. Some are new and likely taken by Hencurse personally, some I note are from school, some are just news paper articles with Harry's name on them, and some pictures are ones I recognize from wizarding books. I also realize with sickness that some of the pictures are of Harry and I walking around in Diagon Alley. Oh god, we must've made a mistake at some point. We blew our cover and some sick fuck obsessed with Harry decided to come after my baby.
I push down the bile threatening to come up my throat as I continue to look around for anything to help me.
That's when I hear the loud crack.
Bryce and I share a look of alarm and he mouths for me to hide before he slips into the wall out of sight. Shivers of panic run through my body as I rush towards the first thing I see, which is a large standing wardrobe standing in the corner. I quickly slip in and click off my torch (with only a moment of light to realize that the closet is filled with clothes of children, likely from all the boys Hencurse has victimized, making me want to vomit again) when Hencurse himself steps down into the cellar. I watch through the tiny crack between the doors as Hencurse waves his wand with a "vo lumos", summoning a floating ball of light. He approaches Harry's unconscious and prone form.
"Harry," Hencurse coos at the sleeping boy. "Wake up Harry." He runs his hands across my cousin and I see red. "Wake up sweetheart."
Harry stirs and blinks the sleep away. He warily looks at his captor but smartly doesn't speak up. He passively allows the monster to manhandle him into a sitting position.
"There we go luv," Hencurse chortles affectionately. "Are you hungry yet my sweet? I know I've been gone for a while and I'm sure you missed me, but now we can have a lovely dinner together. What do you say hm?"
Harry flinches back when the wizard attempts to caress his cheek. This apparently wasn't the correct reaction because within a second Hencurse's loving face twists into an ugly sneer and in a swift movement he slaps the seven-year-old across the face. Harry's green eyes widen in shock as a dark red mark in the shape of a hand begins to take form on his cheek.
"You will answer me when I'm talking to you Harry," Hencurse growls dangerously. "After all I've done for you. Coming home early after working hard at the ministry all for US. And this is how you treat me?" He looms over the cowering boy, "Well Harry? APOLOGIZE!"
"I'm sorry!" Harry cries out in terror.
Immediately Hencurse's face returns back to it's loving gaze. "There there sweetheart, was that so hard? All I ask is that you listen to me luv. Aw," he gently brushes the hot red mark on Harry's cheek. "Did that hurt? I'm sorry luv. I promise I won't do it again. Don't be scare Harry, you know I do this for you right?"
Harry meekly nods his head which seems to pacify the monstrous man.
I watch the entire exchange with horror and fury on equal degree.
"How about this then? I'll make it up to you before dinner alright?" Hencurse soothes to the boy. "We'll do something fun. Something that feels good alright?" Dread fills me.
Harry watches the man with trepidation as the wizard tucks his wand into his robes and leans in closer to Harry. Hencurse smiles at the boy as if amused by his lack of certainty. He leans forwards and places a affectionate kiss on Harry's forehead as his hands begins wandering the boy's torso.
Something in me snaps when I view those bloodied hands reach underneath Harry's dirty shirt.
Once again, my body moves before my mind. I burst out of the wardrobe and charged blindly at the monster. The loud bang that my emergence made startled the wizard out of his ministrations. His head snaps in my direction with shock and within seconds he pulls out his wand and opens his mouth to shoot a curse at me.
"Dudley!" Harry cries out in shock.
But before he can I latch onto his wand arm and dig my teeth viciously into his wrist. Hencurse lets out a pained shout as his hand instinctively drops his wand. I can taste vile iron fill my mouth. The light spell flicks off in an instant the moment the wand leaves his person, plunging us all into darkness.
I'm blindsided by a fist that slams me harshly in the stomach. I shriek out in sharp pain and release the monster from my grip. When I land on the ground, and as my eyes adjust to the darkness I see that Hencurse's eyes go straight to his fallen wand. Desperation fuels me and I pull myself to my feet in a frenzy and kick the wand across the room under the wardrobe where it would be difficult to get. Hencurse lets out a furious roar and changes his sights from the want to me. Because, wand or not, he's still has the advantage of being a full grown man against a recently hospitalized toddler.
Before I can do anything I'm knocked to the ground, air being knocked from my lungs leaving me breathless. Then the monster is on me. His long fingers wrap around my neck and begin to squeeze. I wheeze out in pain as my windpipe crushes in. The pain from the suffocation along with the lack of air is making my head spin. My mouth gasps uselessly as I try to suck in air.
"It's you!" Hencurse sneers down at me. My legs kick uselessly in the air as he continues to choke me out, "I was wondering why my lock was missing, I thought I had just forgotten to put it on. You're that bloody little brat that tried to stop me before. Ha, well I guess I should thank you though. Without you I never would've found my darling Harry. Oh? You don't remember? You don't remember that day at the Candy shop? When you shouted out sweet Harry's name and clueing me in? No? You don't remember the kind man who handed you your bag?"
The lack of air is making it hard to think but his words do ring something familiar in me. I do remember some wizard handing me my dropped bag at the time.
Hencurse laughs sadistically and spits in my purpling face as I gargled for air.
Then there is a loud WHUMP and suddenly the hands around my neck are gone. I inhale sharply, wincing at as the air travels down my damaged throat. I cough and breath in desperation, my lungs greedily sucking in sweet sweet oxygen.
Standing above Hencurse is Harry looking frightened but angry. He's holding the bedside table in his hands that he had used to smack the monster off of me. His eyes peer at me in worry, "Dud! Are you okay!"
I'd like to answer but my throat is having trouble forming words. I'm winded and in pain and I can't do much more than lean over and heave and try to breath through my damaged throat. I notice a movement in the corner of my eyes through the pain and I open my mouth to warn Harry but it's too late.
"You SLUT!" Hencurse yowls as he tackles Harry to the ground, "after ALL I DID FOR YOU!" His hand is pulled into a hard fist which he brings down to Harry's head in a loud smack. Harry lets out a pathetic wail as he attempts to curl in on himself. Hencurse readies another fist.
My mind whirls with a million thoughts on what to do. One idea catches and immediately I reach into my pack and let my fingers curl around a smooth handle.
Hencurse doesn't have time to punch Harry again before I slide a blade easily into his back. He pauses in mid action and chokes out blood when I pull the blade back. In a swift movement I kick him with all my might and the large man topples off of Harry and onto the ground in shock. I immediately straddle his midsection and bring the knife back down on his chest. The blade easily enters and the monster jerks in pain, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
I can't say how many times I stabbed Hencurse that night. All I know is that by time Harry's gentle hands fell on my shoulders to stop me the monster had long been dead. I had dropped the knife in shock, not quite believing that I had just killed someone. That I took a life as easily as I could cut a slice of cheese.
So I let happen what I had been itching to do all night.
I had scrambled off of the cooling corpse, leaned over, and promptly ejected the entire contents of my stomach. Tears mixing with foul bile as it dripped down my chin.
So hopefully that wasn't too crazy or confusing or rushed. I actually wrote most of this in one sitting by spending the last... Idk five hours just sitting here and writing because sudden inspiration? At least the MONSTER Arc is over with (though i still have to do a bit of epilogue things for this arc at the beginning of the next chapter). And this is the longest chapter up to date so yay!
And hey, if you see a mistake (or several) please PLEASE point them out to me because I don't proof read haha. If I proof read I promise that I'll never get anything posted because I'll never be happy with the end result. So um... Yeah.
Anyways, favorites and comments are my fuel. I love favorites because it means that whoever looks at your page may find my story! Which means more reads for me and maybe more comments. I always look forwards to reading comments. Even if it's just one word. It lets me know that you are here and reading and you like what you're reading! Constructive criticism is always welcome. :)
(Also I'm taking some liberties with the spell work because, hey!, it's fanfiction and I can do whatever I want. I will try to stick to canon and make reasonable expansions to the world and theory behind it)
