Title: Vernon Asks
Chapter1 – Why Do You Leave, Boy?
Ships: N/A – Would be Harry/Hermione/Luna if continued
Warnings: Discussion of character death, language
Rating: T – Language
Key: "Speech", 'Thoughts'
Summary: Vernon despises magic and everything associated with it, but he's understandably curious. So, he asks Harry why he always leaves, especially when he's come back looking like hell each time. Harry answers.
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Vernon Dursley's mustache twitched as he looked to his ceiling through beady eyes, wondering at the oddity that was his freak nephew-in-law. He had always hated children. They were messy, smelly, whiny little brats that cost money and provided nothing. They were just as bad as non-profit companies, only ones you were forced into putting money into. He had his own son through Petunia, and probably a good many prostitutes, and he realized that having an heir was a good thing. Something with which to carry on his pure British blood(1) and the strong Dursley name. That was perfectly fine. Dudley had grown on him. At least as long as he didn't have to spend much time with him.
Then the freak had been dropped on their doorstep and Petunia had gone on to explain a good many facts about a hidden world of magic and the horrors that ravaged it, along with the freaks like her sister.
Vernon had actually already known, being a second-generation squib from a pureblood family known as the Goyles. Standard practice would have had his own father killed, the original squib, but they had been too lazy and just let him work as a servant at which point he grew up and moved into the muggle world. It was cheaper than hiring or buying another servant in their eyes and they could train him up proper. At least, that's what Vernon's father had always told him.
Vernon just chose not to tell Petunia this. He didn't really know much about the magical world, having thought his father was as nutters as they came. Now he knew the stories were true, but had no personal knowledge of what that world held.
Now the freak brat of his wife's sister was going there, had been for four years now, and seemed to always come back depressed and hurting. He knew the boy hated coming back because they treated him as he was meant to be treated, as those freaks had treated his father, which had been passed down onto him to a bit, but there was more to it than that. He could see it in the freak's eyes. Even though it always amused the man, it still made him rather curious.
Vernon's world was very simple. He was the center of it. He knew all and saw all. So naturally, he had to know what made the boy go back to something that was obviously a worse hell than what Vernon could create.
"I'm going to talk to the freak," Vernon grunted to his wife who didn't even bother looking up from her gardening magazine. Not like it mattered. The freak did all the work anyway. Thankfully, Dudley would be at his friend Piers' house for a few hours yet or wreaking havoc with the local kids, enforcing his will upon them. It was the sort of thing that made Vernon proud of his son.
The floorboards creaked beneath him as he lumbered his way up the stairs to the boy's room and he unlocked the multitude of padlocks and chains before opening the door and finding the freak sitting in the same spot and position as he had taken when he arrived the day before.
Vernon actually felt a momentary flash of ... pain? Guilt? Remorse? Humor? He couldn't really tell. It was gone almost as soon as it came. He saw this boy's form from his first arrival in a large basket and mentally compared it to the current boy he saw, but the flash was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. In that single instant, he reflected on where the boy came from and what he had become and on his treatment throughout his life, and then felt nothing but the general animosity as always.
"Why do you do it, boy?" Vernon asked in a tone of voice that showed more care and concern than Harry had ever received before. There was a lack of animosity there that was always present and now nothing more than curiousity.
Harry looked up at the whale of a man who was blocking the door in confusion. For the past two days, though it felt like so much longer, he had been replaying the memories of Cedric Diggory's death in his mind's eye and this interruption was the first time he had been able to stop since his arrival. "Wh-what?" He croaked out, his voice harsh and cracking due to a dry throat.
"I know this is Hell, boy," Vernon grunted, not looking apologetic in the least, but leaning against the frame of the door to take a bit of the load from his legs. "I do my best to make it horrible for you. We both know it and I won't deny it. But no matter how bad it's ever been, I've never been able to make you look so much like a beaten puppy as you are now. Hell, even Marge couldn't accomplish this kind of pain. And it's the same each year when you come back. So I want to know what's worth going into that world if all it does is hurt you more than here?"
Harry blinked and was quiet for several long moments as that question filtered through his mind. It wasn't that the answer eluded him. He could have explained it right away. The fact was he hated Vernon as much as the man hated him. But at the same time, he needed to speak to someone. He had heard Dumbledore telling his friends not to contact him and that he would be cut off from all communications that weren't approved to 'ensure his safety'. Harry knew that, even if they tried, as Hermione had promised to, they wouldn't be able to get through.
Even if the old man had forced him into only being able to talk to the Devil, it was all he had and what he needed to do, he decided. He had hit rock bottom, and Vernon Dursley was the only one he had access to right now. The Devil would hear him speak.
"I leave for the people who are important to me," Harry eventually croaked out.
"Those redheaded bastards who got you out of here two years ago?" Vernon asked. "Or that Herminny girl you talk about in your sleep?"
"Hermione," Harry corrected automatically. "And when did I say her name?"
Vernon chuckled darkly. "Oh, most nights, to be honest. Petunia got strange about it and told Dudley and I not to bring it up. We did so out of respect for her." In truth, she had actually threatened to let them cook their own meals and not let them spend anything on take-out. She withheld Dudley's allowance each summer until the freak left and offered him double to keep his mouth shut. It was surprisingly effective when coupled with diets and the like. Apparently, he was more scared of Petunia than anything else. The woman wouldn't even do her wifely duties if Vernon dared refuse her. "So, who is she?"
"My best friend," Harry admitted. "This last year, someone entered my name into a competition that most participants die in and she was the only one who believed I didn't actually do it myself. They all thought I was doing it for the fame and money and decided to stay away from me."
Vernon grunted, not caring about the emotional crap. Still, this bird had to be a looker if the freak put up with worse than Vernon could accomplish. Either that, or she had some incredible talents. "So you go back for her?"
"Not only," Harry corrected quickly. "The man who killed my parents and died when he attacked me that Halloween came back to life at the end of the year and killed one of the other participants in front of me. I feel like I need to kill him, too."
'Freak murders?' Vernon thought amusedly. 'Now that's something I can get into.' The rotund man went over to the single creaky chair and sat down, forcing Harry to turn on his bed to look at his uncle properly. "Then why do you always show up here if you should be training to kill off the other freaks?" Vernon grunted.
"What?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Well, if you wanna kill some bastard freaks, you have to be better than they are if you want to take any of them out before they get you. I don't expect they teach you to kill in that school of yours, and you don't do a damn thing here that'll teach you. What are you doing to learn to kill them? Even the military has to train you up proper before you can kill before you get killed."
"I ... Er ... Professor Dumbledore says I have to come back each summer to recharge some wards that protect me." Harry explained, his mind blanking and wondering what was going on.
"Well, if you were in a thing that was going to kill you, they can't be doing a good job of it, can they?"
Harry's eyes widened. "He used my blood to come back," Harry whispered to himself, still loud enough for Vernon to hear. "How could he do that if just touching me was meant to hurt him?"
"So, whatever you keep coming back for is a shite excuse, then?" Vernon asked, wondering if this meant he'd be rid of the little bastard. 'To live the dream...'
"I ... I guess so," Harry admitted. "But why? Why would I have to keep coming back?"
"Hell if I know," Vernon grunted. "I've been asking myself that one since the bloody beginning."
Harry ignored his uncle, beginning to wonder about a lot of things. His mind suddenly had an outlet and, whether it was paranoia or one epiphany after another, links began to form in his mind's eye, of a larger picture shrouded in manipulations. "He keeps me from communicating with anyone, he stops my friends from speaking with me. Dumbledore has no reason to do these things. So, why does he?"
"You're asking the wrong questions, boy," Vernon interrupted with a snort. "When one of our people in Grunnings is caught doing something they shouldn't, we ask what they gain from it if it isn't obvious right away. We had a right bastard about two years ago who was taking the industrial drill bits for a few days and then returning them. We didn't realize it at the time, but he was taking the diamond tips. Not large enough for anything specifically, but get enough of it and coat your artwork with it and you find yourself with a more expensive item. That, and he was using them to commit crimes by drilling into safes."
"What he'd gain?" Harry asked, ignoring the back story about why to think that. "Well, I'm always here. If I'm not here, then I'm at school."
"So, you're always in the same place? He always knows where to find you and knows who's around you." Vernon said. Regardless of what people thought of the man, he was a damn good business man and more intelligent than he let on. He was just a bastard, which required a hell of a lot of smarming and kiss-assery to advance in the world when people didn't like you. "We keep your ass locked up or working. What does this Dumbledore freak have to do with you where he gives you orders outside of school?"
Harry's chest hurt, wondering why he never asked himself these questions. Adrenaline was beginning to pump throughout his body and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. "I ... I don't know."
"Then why do you listen?" Vernon asked rudely. "You know you do what we tell you 'or else', but what has that freak got on you?"
"N-Nothing," Harry stammered. "There's nothing on me to have. I'm just ... really famous in that world for surviving a spell that no one has ever survived before. It's designed to kill you instantly without a trace. No marks on the body or anything. I got a scar, but was still alive."
"There's gotta be something, boy. The only reason to control something is because it's worth something," Vernon explained. "Have you got money in that world?"
Harry hesitated, looking at Vernon askance.
"Just answer the bloody question, boy," Vernon growled, understanding what his nephew was thinking. "I'm not stepping into that world, but if you have something, it would explain things."
"A little," Harry hedged, not trusting his uncle. "My parents left me a trust fund that will pay for my schooling and supplies I need for classes."
"What else? A trust fund is fully accessible to the holder, usually, but it'd take a bloody moron to leave a kid with full access to everything they left him."
"Er ... I never asked," Harry said, more worried about what he didn't know compared to his uncle, who was being more helpful than he would have expected.
"Then do so," the older man ordered, his mustache twitching. "If you have the means to be gone from here for good, I'd rather you take it and be gone than deal with you and all the other freaks who keep popping up. I'll even help you get out of here if you need it."
Vernon leaned back in the chair, slightly nervous about the large amount of creaking it was doing. "So, the question remains, why do you keep going back? I get you've got a girl, but here, there'd be no attempts on your life like you seem to say is going on there."
For the first time, Harry explained his time at Hogwarts and his first four years there, getting several grunts or snorts from Vernon and the occasional snarky comment. The conversation lasted long enough that Petunia had cooked dinner and Harry had obtained his very first decent meal in that household.
With subtle guiding from Vernon that Harry honestly didn't think Vernon was capable of, the walrus-like man had managed to get Harry to talk about a good number of things he hadn't originally planned on without even realizing he was being manipulated into doing it. But it wasn't that Vernon was looking to screw Harry over. He honestly and truly was hoping to get rid of the boy, even if it meant a clean break, regardless of anything else.
Vernon had managed to get Harry to talk about his fame and how people treated him, along with giving the boy a heavy dose of guilt and rage when Harry was made to realize how much his best female friend had suffered because of their friendship thanks to Rita Skeeter and the others and how they seemed to take Dumbledore's word as absolute.
He had also forced Harry to question a good many things, mostly his friends and quite literally everyone's motives in relation to him. Vernon had taken a perverse glee in trying to shatter Harry's vision of the other world he kept going to and had pushed him on every conceivable concept that Harry discussed, hoping to leave Harry broken and weeping, but still capable of leaving them, possibly just running off and disappearing from both worlds if needed.
But that had all led to a sense of pride at being able to show off at just how capable and strong his mind really and truly was. Harry was more of what Vernon had wanted from his own son. He listened, frighteningly enough. Dudley heard what Vernon told him, but never took his advice. Terrorizing the kids of the neighborhood was amusing, but it was going to get the brat caught sooner or later, which is why he tried to stop it all from happening at first. Now, he tested his son on how not to get caught.
It was how you succeeded in the business world, according to Vernon Dursley. If you could pull it off in the real world, then the business one was one step up from that, since they all did the same as well and weren't the sheep of the real world.
That seemed to hold especially true for Harry's world.
Plus, being a shrewd business man who lived by making deals and catching what people said in an attempt to personalize his pitches, Vernon's ears twitched when the father of the redhead clan said they owed Harry a life debt. Owing any kind of debt was interesting enough, to Vernon's mind. But that it could help the boy get out, all the better. But it would be something for another time.
"So, in four years, that Hermione girl helped you through damn near everything, even when she was a statue, the redhead bastard who broke our windows treats you both like shite, you've got your headmaster forcing you to do things that aren't his place and you just sit back and take it all as they bend you over the barrel and take turns with you, right? To say nothing of the freak wanker in your potions class who actually does seem to have a hard-on for you with the way he's so focused. And you don't do anything?"
Harry had the decency to blush. "Er ..."
"I suppose we hold part of the blame for that," Vernon considered to himself. It was actually a little impressive just how broken they had made him even when they weren't around. "But if you want to kill more of the freaks, you can't be someone's bitch, you understand?"
"What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked, finally frustrated to ask for help from the Devil.
"Why are you fighting?" Vernon asked quietly, leaning forward and staring through beady eyes into Harry's wide green ones. "If you don't have a reason to fight, then you don't have a reason to win. Why. Do. You. Fight?"
Path One (2)
"Because I want to kill someone," Harry admitted after several moments. "A lot of someones."
Path Two (3)
"To protect the ones I care for before they are killed, too," Harry thought, visions of Hermione and the Weasleys and many students flashing through his head.
Path Three (4)
"To rule them all," Harry said coldly, thinking of all the pain and anguish he had suffered in his life. Even those things in his life which could be considered good ended up leading towards painful and death-defying situations. They had all, at one point or another, abandoned him and turned on him at the drop of a hat. Well, except for Hermione. For that loyalty, he felt it only right that he have her at his side and let her change things to suit her desires, as well.
Post Choice (Regardless of path taken)
"Well," Vernon grunted, "it seems like you have a reason. But is it enough?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Boy, when I was your age, I wanted a job, a home and a wife who'd know her place. I got all of that, and I'm happy. Well, as happy as can be with your lot and you around," Vernon said, his mustache twitching. "But the point is, I had something I wanted to work towards. Once you kill these freaks, what do you have after that? Why will you continue?"
Harry looked down in a strange sense of calm. "Why are you talking with me like this? Usually you throw your fists and just try to break me."
Vernon was quiet a moment as he tried to figure that out himself. "I want you gone. If it means helping you for once, so be it. I'd rather you just be gone and out of my hair than have to put up with you or your kind. And as much as Dudley is of myself, he's a right idiot. He's going to end up getting caught if he doesn't listen. Surprisingly enough, you did. Just don't expect it again unless it's to get your arse out of here."
Vernon got up and hit Harry on the shoulder under the guise of patting it, but using far too much force to have been accidental and was about to leave the room before he turned. "One final piece of advice, boy. You need to stop being led around by the nose. I know we trained you into it, but you should stop blindly following anyone's orders or suggestions unless you actually want to and start thinking for yourself. From your story, all you do is what people tell you." Then he was gone.
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Notes:
1– Possible future idea; Harry notice Vernon's hatred of anything not British and relates it to Pureblood extremism, making him look for similar features in magicals (Weasleys, Faculty, etc.) Possible means by which he decides to be open about everything unless they prove to be just as close-minded as his 'family'.
2- Possible choice for a darker story where Harry fights because he wants revenge and it's the one way he can get it by killing a large number of people who are truly bad. A darker and more malignant repressed desire from pre-Hogwarts and his years there. Ultimately about the War and using the relationship with Hermione(/Luna) as a way to remain good and anchored to doing it all for the right reasons and ensure he doesn't cross a line.
3- Lighter path where Harry truly wants to live a normal life, but wants to ensure his friends remain safe and protected, no matter the cost. A more painful path than number two, but ultimately about the relationship and the power of fierce devotion and love.
4-Total dark path wherein Harry can't stand all the bad in his life any longer. He has only one bright point (redeeming/Light) in his life right now (Hermione) and he decides he's going to convert/manipulate her into following his path. He will kill the Malfoy family as his first kills, along with taking Hermione and Luna to get them to do the same, thus reaching a point of no return. Use of Veritaserum to make them confess their crimes to make it more palatable in beginning, then it gets easier. Take over everything, rule everything.
