Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Chapter 4 Birthday Black and Blues
Over the next few weeks, life fell into a familiar pattern at Private Drive. In the morning Harry tutored Dudley, in the afternoon he spent his time doing odd jobs for Mr. Krumpet, and in the evenings Harry spent time working on his school work, with some chores thrown in for his aunt for good measure. At first Harry was stiff from laboring in the yard but with good food from Mr. Krumpet, he soon became tan and fit.
Harry noticed that Dudley's old hand-me-downs did not need to be rolled up as much in the cuffs and sleeves even though they hung loosely on his frame because Dudley was so fat. Now that his body no longer ached, he was almost glad for the exercise. It had been over a year since he had been to regular Quidditch practices. He was really looking forward to playing Quidditch again. Harry wondered what would happen to the Gryffinder team now that Oliver Wood had graduated.
Aunt Petunia banged on Harry's door, yelling at him to come down for breakfast. The kitchen table was piled high with brightly colored packages of all sizes and shapes. She set Harry to making a large platter of eggs and bacon. In honor of Dudley's birthday, Dudley's diet was suspended for the day.
Uncle Vernon came down for breakfast, ordered Harry to get him a cup of tea and kissed Dudley. Then he announced that in honor of Dudley's birthday, Dudley would be excused from lessons so he could open his presents and try out his new games. This was the first time Harry had been glad it was Dudley's birthday; having a morning off made Harry feel like he had gotten a gift. In fact it was the best present the Dursleys had ever gotten him.
In honor of his birthday, Dudley had a large breakfast of eggs and bacon. Harry grabbed a piece of toast and headed upstairs before Aunt Petunia got the idea that Harry's free time could be filled with a few chores.
Harry lay back on his bed and stretched luxuriously. Then he took out his spell book and began his essay on wards.
Describe the seven types of Warding Charms and the seven classifications of each.
Types: Personal, Domicile, Interpersonal, Extra-personal, Object, Mobile and Perimeter.
Classifications: Trip, Keyword, Barriers, Defensive, Entrapment, Shield, Diverting, and
Deflecting.
He had gotten all the way through Personal and Domicile wards before it was time to go to Krumpets.
Mr. Krumpet had been experimenting with ways of cooking potatoes again so Harry had a good meal of baked, fried, and boiled potatoes with a variety of toppings. It was just as well Harry had gotten a good meal at Mr. Krumpets because he returned in time to watch Dudley gobble his birthday cake. It was enough to turn anyone's appetite.
Mrs. Dudley cooed as she wiped icing off Dudley's cheeks, "I hope my Dudley has enjoyed his special day. Mummy is so proud of how hard you've been working. You deserve a day off."
She kissed his cheek getting smudge of chocolate icing on her chin.
"Come on son," beamed Uncle Vernon, "Now you've practically a man, let's go watch the fights on your new T.V." Vernon clapped Dudley on his back and they retreated to the living room.
Harry cleared up the table as Aunt Petunia washed the dishes. From the other side of the room, sounds of a wrestling match drifted in. The contestants were screaming obnoxious insults at each other and making improbable boasts. Aunt Petunia sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
"My little Dudley. He's such a man. Father and son." She glared at Harry and told him to wash the floor after he finished washing the table.
The floor around Dudley's chair was littered with the residue of his meal. Harry muttered to himself that Dudley ate like a two year old. Fortunately, Aunt Petunia hadn't heard, she had rushed to the phone to call her friends so she could boast about how mature Dudley as. His aunt had bragged her way through three phone calls by the time Harry had finished.
"Here," she said thrusting a bowl of pretzels at him, "Take his to them." She turned back to the phone already dialing by the time Harry turned and headed down the hall.
The wrestling match had been replaced by boxing. The new T.V. was so big it took up most of a wall. His uncle and cousin were taking up most of the couch, shouting at the TV and making jabbing motions with their fists.
"Aw. C'mon..hit 'im!" yelled Dudley.
"What a wuss!" sneered Uncle Vernon.
"I could do better than that!" jeered Dudley.
As the commercials came on, Uncle Vernon hit the mute button on the remote control. Dudley protested that he liked to watch the commercials but Uncle Vernon chuckled.
"Just a minute. I've got something special for you; some more birthday presents for you!"
Dudley forgot all about the commercials . "Give them to me."
"I'm sure you can do better than that wimp on TV," Uncle Vernon said proudly.
He reached under the couch and took out a large package wrapped in gold foil. Then he noticed Harry standing there with the snack bowl.
"Got something for you too, not that you deserve it."
He handed Harry a paper grocery sack. Dudley stopped in the middle of ripping the paper from his box and stared.
"How come he gets a present? It's my birthday!"
Harry was wondering the same thing. Harry's birthdays were usually unmarked events at the Dursleys. He had never received presents from his aunt and uncle unless you counted an old pair of socks he had once gotten.
"Well it's really part of your present," he soothed Dudley. "Open yours and you'll see."
Dudley finished tearing off the wrapping and pulled open the box. Inside was a pair of fancy new boxing gloves.
"What do you have to say to that, eh?" beamed Uncle Vernon.
"What are they?" asked Dudley.
"Why these are the best boxing gloves money could buy," announced Uncle Vernon. "You are becoming quite the man, now. I bet you could punch as hard as those guys on TV!"
Dudley grinned and jabbed the air, then his face took on a puzzled expression. "So what's he got?"
Harry opened the bag and peered inside. Harry told himself he should have guessed what was coming; he had been so stunned by the idea of Uncle Vernon giving him a present that he couldn't think clearly. Inside was a pair of beat-up boxing gloves. Harry took then out. They were ripped in places and the wadding showed.
"Don't think you will get anything else for your birthday. You are lucky I was able to find these at a yard sale."
Harry looked at the gloves and then at his uncle. "What are these for?" he asked at last.
"Dudley needs someone to practice on, of course," Uncle Vernon said as if Harry was being stupid when Harry continued to gape at him.
"B…I can't," Harry began. "I don't know how."
"Of course you will," Uncle Vernon said loudly. "Those exacting committee members of the Smeltings review board keep sending letters advising an exercise training program. The Smeltings school nurse will be very pleased to hear it."
"I won't!" declared Harry, throwing the beat-up gloves to the floor.
"Oh yes, you will," Uncle Vernon bellowed. He grabbed the back of Harry's collar and began forcing him down the hallway and up the stairs. "Come one Dudley," said Uncle Vernon between grunts from his struggling with Harry. "I want to show you the rest of your presents."
That got Dudley's happy cooperation and the two of them easily overpowered Harry by sheer mass and dragged him toward the guest bedroom. Using his shoulder, Uncle Vernon opened the door and pushed Harry in, followed eagerly by Dudley.
All the bedroom furniture and pictures had been removed. The center of the room was dominated by a mat fenced off by ropes. Along the side of the room was an array of sports equipment including, weights, jump ropes and a punching bag suspended from the ceiling.
A large poster that looked like a heavily muscled troll in long underwear with a bed sheet tied to its back hung on a wall. It took Harry a while before he recognized it as one of those novelty posters where you can have your face put into a picture. Harry almost laughed out loud at Dudley's pudgy face on top of that ridiculously over muscle-muscled body. Across the bottom in bright red lettering it said "Dangerous Dudley." In his head, Harry thought of a spell that would have changed it to "Dudley Dunderhead."
"Now isn't that something!" Uncle Vernon said proudly. "Since we aren't going to use this room over the summer –Aunt Marge has refused to step foot in this house while 'that vicious, ill-bred mutt' is here." He glared at Harry.
Harry decided later that it would have been wiser to act thrilled about the room and the prospect of being Dudley's punching bag. Seeing how much Harry didn't want something made Dudley just wild about it. If Harry had acted enthusiastic, Dudley who hated exercise would probably have thrown a temper tantrum and refused. But it was too late, the damage was done.
Dudley giggled with impatience while Uncle Vernon laced on his gloves, hampered by the jabs Dudley kept making in the air with his fists.
Uncle Vernon chuckled at his son's eagerness, "A regular powerhouse."
Then he roughly pulled Harry's gloves on and laced them and took of Harry's glasses. "Not paying for a new pair," he said when Harry objected that he couldn't see.
"I'm gonna pound you to paste!" crowed Dudley as Harry edged onto the mat.
Uncle Vernon was calling encouragements to Dudley who laughed and threw some punches at Harry's head. Without his glasses, Dudley resembled an animated bean-bag chair the size of Frankenstein. Harry was out of practice playing Quidditch but bludgers were harder to avoid than Dudley's fists and Harry easily managed to dodge aside as Dudley went blundering by.
"Stay still, you coward," yelled Dudley. It was much easier hitting someone when you had Peirce to hold them for you.
Uncle Vernon sniggered, "What a wimp. Too yellow to try and fight."
"Too week and cowardly to fight," said Dudley making more jabs at Harry and starting to pant. This was more exercise than Dudley usually got in a month.
"Well what do you expect?" Uncle Vernon went on as if Harry were not there. "His kind is always inferior. That's why they resort to cheap tricks; too cowardly to stand up to a real man. Bet his father was like that".
Dudley laughed disdainfully.
Harry had never wanted to hit Dudley more. Decided he would never have a better opportunity, Harry drew back his fists to punch Dudley on the nose. At that moment, Uncle Vernon shoved him from behind. He felt his fists impact on Dudley's shoulder. Dudley staggered backwards and landed awkwardly on his rear end and began to howl.
Harry's triumph didn't last long. His uncle grabbed him by the upper arm and shook him. "None of your nasty under-handed tricks now," snarled Uncle Vernon.
"I hit him fair and square," retorted Harry, "or at least I would have if you hadn't pushed me."
"You cheater!" yelled Uncle Vernon, shaking him again.
Harry caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and turned just in time for Dudley's fist to crash into the side of his face. He felt as if he had been hit with a wrecking ball. This was one sport where Dudley's sheer mass gave him the advantage. Harry sprawled on the mat trying to get his legs under him and scramble to his feet. Crowing triumphantly, Dudley came at him again, pummeling every part of Harry he could reach.
Harry had already murmured two syllables of a spell before he realized what he was doing. Frantically, he scrambled backwards, crab-like until he was out of Dudley's reach. He crawled out of the ring and grabbed the ropes and pulled himself to his feet.
Dudley cheered and Uncle Vernon lifted one of his son's fat wrists above his head and announced, "The Champion!"
Harry was trembling with reaction, not so much from the beating or even his rage at his Uncles' blatant unfairness, but at how close he had come to losing control and cursing Dudley.
"Ha!" chortled Dudley, "not looking so good now are you?"
"Take away all those foul tricks and you're nothing," jeered Uncle Vernon, "slight-of-hand doesn't mean nothing against a real Man!"
Suddenly, Harry knew that if he stayed there a moment longer, he really would lose control and throw some curses, with or without his wand. Harry used his teeth to loosen the laces on his gloves. Frantically he tore them off. Abruptly, he turned and ran from the room, bounded down the stairs and fled the house.
.
.
At first, Harry had no idea of where he was going, only a desire to get away before he got himself expelled. Maybe he could get to a phone and call Hermione or something and figure out what to do and how to get his stuff. He was halfway down the street when he ran head-long into something that knocked him flat.
Harry picked himself up, but there was nothing there.
He squinted up and down the quiet twilight of the street, but there was no one there. He could hear a dog barking in the distance, but there were no other movements or sound. He started forward and again collided with an invisible barrier. Then he cautiously extended his hands in front of him. Directly in front of him was an invisible wall.
Stretching his arms to either side and as high up as he could reach, the barrier felt smooth. He pushed against it with all his strength. It seemed to give an inch but no more. He took a shot running start and threw his shoulder against the unseen barrier and bounced off. Harry began walking back and forth but the invisible wall stretched out in both directions. After following it a bit he found it curved inwards.
Harry picked up a pebble and tossed it. It easily sailed through the empty space in front of him.
The wall cut across someone's lawn. Harry felt his way along until it came to a fence. He scrambled up the fence but even with the extra height, he could not feel the top of the wall. Climbing down, he tried digging down where the wall crossed a ditch but it seemed to extend down into the earth as well as above.
A car came down the street. Harry flattened himself in the ditch. The car pulled up to the curb and a man stepped out, picked up a briefcase and strode along the walk and up to the house next door and let himself in with a key. When the door closed, Harry hurried up to the sidewalk, but the invisible wall was still there. Harry continued to walk along the curving wall that wasn't there. Rocks and cars could pass through; so could people. Only he couldn't.
The Confinement Spell from the Ministry of Magic.
He was trapped. Despair seemed to settle on him and he sank to his knees beside the boundary of his personal prison. His face was really starting to hurt now that his fury was fading. He leaned his forehead against his arm. His nose was bleeding.
He sighed and got up. First he'd better clean himself up a bit, then he could try to work out what to do. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys just yet. They might try locking him up again. He doubted that the Ministry would care as long as he was safe. He wondered if Dobby was working for the Ministry now; it was the type of thing the elf would come up with.
It was really getting dark now. He went to Mr. Krumpet's house and walked around back to the spigot. In the last glow from the setting sun he started to wash the blood off his face.
Suddenly he was blinded by a bright light and a harsh voice called out "Stop right there. Make no sudden moves. Keep your hands where I can see them."
Harry froze in his half-bent over position, squinting into the light.
"Harry!" said the voice. "What are you doing here?"
Harry started breathing again. "It's me, Mr. Krumpet. I…I…just wanted to wash up a bit."
"I thought you were a prowler. I almost hit you with my torch. What happened to you?"
"Dudley got a lot of boxing equipment for his birthday," Harry explained.
"You had better come inside and get cleaned up proper. Pinch your nose: it will help stop the bleeding."
Harry did as he was told. Mr. Krumpet sat him down at the ktchen table and began dabbing his face with a damp rag. Harry couldn't help flinching at Mr. Krumpet's touch as he examined his face. At Mr. Krumpet's direction he took off his shirt. Harry grunted as the old man walked around prodding his torso.
"Well nothing is broken as far as I can tell. You will have some pretty spectacular bruises through, especially that eye."
Harry's left eye had almost swollen shut. Mr. Krumpet went to his freezer and took out a package of frozen peas and tossed it to Harry.
"Put that on it. It might help keep the swelling down. "
Harry pressed it to his face and considered asking Mr. Krumpet if he could use his phone to call Hermione. Ron didn't have a phone and without Hedwig he had no way of contacting anyone. Besides with the Ministry confining him to the house, he didn't know what they could do anyway. He really wanted to talk to Black but his godfather was harder to than anyone. He needed a way to deal with this on his own.
He sighed and looked up to see Mr. Krumpet considering him with his arms crossed over his chest.
"What I can't figure out," he said at last, "Is how you got beaten up so badly by the great tub of lard?"
"He is a lot bigger than me," said Harry bitterly, "And he had help. I was doing alright until my Uncle grabbed me."
"There is more to winning battles than sheer size. I would wager you were stronger from the yard work I've seen you do."
Harry looked at Mr. Krumpet and said nothing. As much as he wanted to pound Dudley into past, he didn't think living at the Dursleys would get any easier if he did. On the other hand now that Dudley had a taste of victory, he doubted that Dudley and Uncle Vernon would simply drop the sport out of disinterest.
"You look pretty bruised up but no really serious injuries. What stopped you from fighting back?" Mr. Krumpet speculated.
Harry didn't say anything. How could he explain to Mr. Krumpet how he had almost lost control and cursed them? Harry stared at the table in front of him.
"You are afraid. I didn't think you for a coward. "
That touched a nerve. "You don't understand," Harry mumbled. Parts of his face had swollen so it was difficult to talk. "It's not just whether I could hurt someone or not, but…I almost…lost control."
Now it was Krumpet's turn to be silent. Then he began moving around the room, taking things out of cabinets and putting them on the table. Harry watched in silence as Mr. Krumpet put up water for tea. He opened several canisters, but instead of tea, a musty scent drifted up. Krumpet took a handful of dried leaves and twigs from each container and put them into a shallow bowl. When the whistle blew on the kettle, he poured it over the leaves. Sweet, musty steam rose into the air.
"Old family recipe," explained Krumpet. "After it steeps a moment, it makes a good poultice for minor abrasions." He shrugged. "It never seemed to do much for the swelling and the bruises, but it does seem to deaden the pain a bit."
The old man's mouth quirked in an ironic smile as he dipped a washcloth in the bowl and squeezed out the extra liquid.
"I got into plenty of scrapes when I was a boy."
He began to gingerly dab at the contusions on Harry's face.
"My mother used to scold me every time I came home with a black eye or a bloodied nose."
He paused to rinse the cloth in the bowl again.
"There was this gang of toughs in my neighborhood who took a dislike to me when I refused to kowtow to them. I would come home and she would bathe my face in herbs and give me a tongue lashing. No matter how she scolded, her hands were always gentle."
The warm water was very soothing.
"But the thing that really got my goat was that I could have stopped the fights if I wanted to."
"By running away?" mumbled Harry. "I'd be happy to leave, but I can't."
Krumpet snorted with disgust. "Don't be stupid. Showing weakness only encourages bullies to be more viscious."
Harry set down the peas and stared at Krumpet through the one eye that he could open.
"No, the way to deal with bullies is to hurt them so badly that they can't hurt you. They are cowards and the only thing they can understand is power: their power over others or a stronger power over them."
Krumpet wrung out the cloth and applied it to Harry's eye. The warm water did seem to leach the pain out.
"Bullies seldom stand up to someone who shows that they are willing to really hurt them."
Harry asked, "What if they are bigger, stronger than you?"
Krumpet got up and filled a glass with water, then he rummaged in a drawer. After a moment he returned to the table and handed Harry a glass and a packet of Tylenol.
"That came in the post. A promotional for some analgesic. I always suspected the benefits of my mother's remedy had more to do with the warm water than the herbs."
Harry tore open the packet. There were two pills inside. He swallowed them with a drink of water.
"Size and strength isn't what I said," Krumpet corrected. "It's a matter of proving you have a willingness to truly hurt your enemy. Bullies want to intimidate to make themselves feel stronger; they may enjoy causing harm but they almost never have the desire to obliterate their opponents. If you eliminate your victim where's the fun of gloating?"
Harry shifted in his chair. Adults weren't supposed to talk about "obliterating opponents" they were always advising restraint. It made Harry feel uncomfortable; as much as he hated the Dursleys, he didn't really want to hurt them just to get away from them and he said so.
Krumpet wrung out the cloth again and spread it on the bruises that were coloring his shoulders.
"Really?" he asked fixing Harry with an unblinking stare. "You never wanted to really hurt and eliminate your enemies?"
Harry remembered when he had found out that Sirius Black was thought to have betrayed his parents. He remembered how close he had come to killing his godfather. The sound of his glass vibrated against the table brought his attention back to Krumpet's kitchen. He hastily let go of the glass and put his hands in his lap, hoping that Mr. Krumpet hand't noticed how his hands were trembling.
"There are laws against doing things like that."
"Bullies work outside the law. They have no respect for it. Rules only work in ordinary circumstances when everyone agrees to follow them. Those who don't need to be eliminated. Sometimes you have to work outside the rules when the situation calls for it. I'm sure there are times when you feel the circumstances warranted the breaking of a few rules?"
What was Mr. Krumpet getting at? That he should murder the Dursleys? The man just calmly continued rinsing the cloth in the herb solution. The warmth helped his muscles relax.
"I think that what really burned me up as a kid," Mr. Krumpet went on in his quiet voice, "was that all the time my mother was scolding me for getting into fights, I could have stopped them anytime I wanted by showing them I as stronger than they were. I let them knock me down and kick me around because I chose to hide my superiority. For years I pretended to cower before them, and all the time I knew that they harassed me not because they were dominant but because I chose to exercise restraint and pretend I was weak."
Maybe Krumpet did understand. He could have put the body bind spell on the Dursleys but instead he played by their Muggle rules and let them beat him up. He even let them cheat, call him a coward. Ran from them.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Oh eventually I got tired of being good and taught them all a lesson they would never forget but I was leaving home and in the impetuousness of youth, was eager to burn a few bridges."
Krumpet poured Harry a cup of tea and put a plate of scones at his elbow.
"Now you've got an old man wheezing about 'the good old days'," he chucked.
Mr. Krumpet spread another warm cloth over Harry's face.
"Just let it sit there for a bit."
Harry nodded he could feel his muscles loosen as the tension eased out of them.
Suddenly Harry felt extremely sleepy. He realized he was about to doze off on Krumpet's kitchen table. He squinted at the clock, trying to bring it into focus. How did it get so late?
"I'd better be getting back. Thank you very much, I really do feel much better now." He pushed himself up and found that it took some effort; his limbs were so relaxed, they didn't seem to want to move. Harry covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.
"It's so late, why don't you just sleep here tonight. I'm sure the Dursleys would rather not be disturbed at this hour. It would be no problem, you can camp-out on the couch."
Harry didn't think the Dursleys would appreciate being woken up either. He yawned again. He could sleep here and go back first thing in the morning. He mumbled his thanks to Mr. Krumpet and stumbled to the couch, took off his shoes and stretched out. He was asleep before Mr. Krumpet finished covering him with a blanket.
.
.
A chill wind whipped Harry's cloak around him, making him shiver, but making no sound. Swaying branches shed bizarre shadows over the massive oak door and the carved stone lintel in front of him.
A squeal of metal made Harry turn to see a wrought iron gate swing shut behind him with clang. The sound of the door slamming open, made Harry spin around again. '
'I've been here before,' Harry thought as a gust of wind pushed him up the flagstone path and through the door. The hall was dimly lit from a candle that stood in a sconce by the door at the end of the hall.
'I'm dreaming,' thought Harry as he seemed to drift down the hall. He told himself to wake up as he approached the dark door at the hall's end but his feet continued on their own accord and he descended the curving passageway step by step.
Beyond the next curve a red glow lit the stone walls. Somehow Harry knew what he would find as his feet carried him involuntarily forward. The glow was from a fire on which sat a cauldron. In front of the cauldron, four figures stood silhouetted.
"….so that is all you have come to report?" A few minor injuries. I want my enemies dead! You were to have abducted him and brought him to me."
The pain that flashed across the scar in Harry's forehead was enough to tell him who the speaker was even before he heard the cold, high voice.
"….Master…Master…forgive me. I am weak. Dumbledore is too strong for me I could not ….please master…."
The other figure cringed and bowed.
"Excuses! Always you come to me with sniveling excuses. Maybe I should let Nagini put an end to them?"
A huge snake slithered forward, its eyes flickering in the firelight.
"…no…Master…wait …I came to report not…not only to beg for forgiveness for my weakness but because I think there might be another opportunity…please master, let me explain."
The snake hissed eagerly but as Voldemort remained silent the cringing man went on. "I believe that there is a possibility that we can turn him to our advantage. Think of the possibilities that his position would give us."
"But can this be done? Dumbledore has too much influence with the ministry."
"His political position is weakened my lord. It would be a perfect time to take advantage of the fear certain rumors have generated."
"I was hoping to influence the Ministry through Crouch. With the leverage his faithful son could have provided, we would have been able to do a great deal."
"Yes, faithful Barty Crouch Jr. was a loss. But perhaps we can gain more this way."
"Perhaps, but he is weak and ineffectual."
"That is the best time to strike, my lord, when he is confused and frightened."
"Be that as it may, I do not think he can be turned," Voldemort answered, "It would be better to kill him now."
Pain seared though Harry's scar.
"My lord!" begged the cringing figure, "I beg you, give me leave to try."
"Do not listen to him, my lord. Dumbledore may yet find a way to save him," Wormtail whined.
The last figure turned its tall frame toward Petigrew and said in a voice that was disguised but still dripping with scorn. "Even if you cannot bring him over to our side, the poison will render him powerless. Even Dumbledore cannot make potions as I."
They are going to poison someone, Harry thought.
"Why should we listen to you?" sneered Petigrew, "We don't even know who you are. Why are you disguising your voice?"
"Lord Voldemort knows who I am and trusts me. It is you I don't trust."
"And no one has been as successful in turning difficult cases as I have been, "the other figure continued. "Think of what a blow to Dumbledore it would be if he even thought I might succeed."
"Very well," Voldemort hissed, "You may try." Then he turned back to the taller figure. "Can you prepare the antidote?"
The tall figure bowed very low before answering. "I can prepare a concoction what will suspend the
action of the poison until the drinker ingests a new dose of poison."
"I can't decide if I hope you succeed or not. On one hand I will get a servant who is in a position to shake the wizarding world, on the other hand, if you fail my bitter enemy will be rendered powerless. How I have ached for that moment. Either way, Dumbledore will be devastated. He and his Ministry will look weak and ineffective. Then those quislings who followed him will come flocking to me! Either way, I win!" Voldemort's high cold laugh echoed around the subterranean room.
Pain flared in Harry's scar. The burning spiraled upward in intensity with the sound of Voldemort's chilling laughter.
.
.
Harry sat bold upright, his hands pressed to the burning sensation in his forehead. He was breathing hard, shaking and sweating. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was in the darkened room. He fumbled for his glasses but couldn't find them. Now that the pain had faded from his scar, he became aware of how the rest of his face ached. The left side of his face was swollen so that he could barely open his eye. The previous evening came back to him slowly and he realized he was in Mr. Krumpet's living room.
He sat in the dark room, feeling achy and groggy. The house was absolutely silent. Harry wanted to get up and check the clock but he didn't want to disturb Mr. Krumpet. While considering what to do, he lay back down and slept again.