The Hundred Acre Wood

Disclaimer & Warnings: See chapter 1

Timeline: Friday, August 2nd, 1991, early morning hours

Chapter 28 – Where there's Smoke

"That just isn't fair," Dudley thought, watching from his upstairs toy-room window as his father set the blanket and book he'd taken from the freak alight.

Dudley had been woken early by his Aunt's snoring. Unable to get back to sleep, he'd come into the room to look for the new hand held computer game he'd gotten for his birthday. He wanted it to play during breakfast so he wouldn't have to talk with Aunt Marge.

He loved his Aunt, but all she did was talk to him as if he was a baby - all 'nephey-poo' this and 'nephey-poo' that. He got enough baby talk from his mother on a daily basis, and he really didn't need any more of it, any more than he needed more toys. He'd more toys than he could possibly ever use. Half of them he hadn't even bothered to unwrap all the way. Once he had the wrapping off enough to see what it was he'd just toss it aside.

Every birthday and Christmas, his parents gave him more presents than the year before, which truth be told he didn't exactly mind, but he did mind that they never gave his cousin any at all. Knowing that his cousin never got a single present somehow made him unable to enjoy his own gifts as much. In frustration, he'd break them almost immediately, to even the playing field. If his cousin didn't have any toys, why should he? However, it didn't work. His parents would just rush out and get him two replacements for each broken toy, and on the next occasion buy him even more.

He shook his head at the total inequity of the situation. Here he was with a second room just to hold his wall-to-wall toys, while his cousin the freak only had a small dark hole under the stairs. To top it off, the only things the freak had to call his own, his dad was destroying. Looking down into the garden, he was glad to see when a large white owl rescued his cousin's pitiful possessions.

'Maybe I can do something too.'

He started to plan as he tiptoed past the guest room, snuck down the stairs, and out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. Dudley never claimed to be all that brilliant, no matter what his mother bragged. However, he thought he was rather good at occasionally being sneaky when he put his mind to it, and being sneaky was the only way he'd ever found to help his cousin.

For the most part, his parents catered to his every whim. However, when it came to how they treated his cousin, that topic had always been off limits to him, unless it was when they encouraged him to help beat the freak. He'd learned if he was going to do anything to help his cousin, he had to do it in secret. Even then, he had to be very careful about how much he did, because if discovered, his parents would blow up and blame his cousin. And that never turned out well.

Going round the side of the house to the back garden, he glanced around to make sure he hadn't been seen. Then he cautiously approached the owl guarding his cousin's things.

He heard his father say that everything the freak had, belonged to him now, and that he could do with them what he wanted. However, apparently what he wanted to do with them was to get rid of them. According to one of the universal laws of the school playground anything someone lost or threw away, was fair game to be claimed by the first person who found them, who did want them. And Dudley wanted them. He wanted them so he could give them back.

"Hello birdie…"

Warily Dudley got down on all fours so he was at eye-level with the large bird and gulped a bit in trepidation before asking, "Is it okay with you if I take these back to my cousin?"

Hedwig cocked her head to the right and hooted while she looked the blond boy up and down. Then she cocked her head to the left, hooted again, and locked eyes with him. Outwardly, he looked like a small version of the large man who hurt her owlet, but there was a difference. She could see the magic in this boy even if it was very faint, and she knew he was a wizard, just as her little owlet was. She didn't see any evil in him and he didn't seem to be harbouring any ill intentions towards her owlet. Moreover, he was in the yard, unlike that pink haired witch that couldn't seem to find her way in. Besides, Mercury had yet to show up with reinforcements, Hedwig thought with passing dissatisfaction.

Grudgingly, she decided that faint help was better than no help at all, and reluctantly backed away from her owlet's things and let the fat boy approach.

Dudley picked up the singed blanket and slightly charred storybook off the ground, and tucked them into the waistband of his pyjamas then pulled down his top to conceal them. After a whispered 'thanks' to the owl, he crept back around the house and inside the front door, being careful to avoid his parents.

'Good! They're all still in the kitchen,' he thought as he could hear his mother shrieking something about how the freak had better not burn the bacon, and his father telling his cousin what he'd do to him if he did.

He didn't understand why they always yelled about the same thing every morning. His cousin hadn't burned the bacon since he was six, and everything he cooked was always done to perfection. He could take the cheap cuts of meat his mother bought, and make a gourmet melt-in-your-mouth meal out of it.

Nevertheless, it didn't seem to matter how good the meal was, his parents would always find something wrong with it. He personally thought the freak was a great chef, and made such downright addictive killer biscuits, that he gave full credit to them as the reason he had so many friends at school - especially at lunchtime. He didn't know if he'd have been nearly as popular without the biscuits to share. He knew he sure didn't get there on his brains, looks, or personality.

'Hey - more good luck! Dad left the door unlocked.'

Gleefully Dudley opened the door of the little cupboard under the stairs and tucked the bundle safely inside. As he thrust it into a dark corner, his hand brushed an odd little pile. Dudley hadn't actually ever been in the cupboard before, and was curious as to what his cousin kept there, since other than the dust and a few spiders it was quite bare. Pulling out the little pile into the light Dudley was dumbfounded to find it was the birthday gifts he'd been leaving… every one of them was there - from the broken pencil, to the bent coat hanger. His cousin had saved them all, each and every one, even the used tissue. Dudley was touched, and he thoughtfully put the little pile of junk back where he'd found it.

As he started to close the door, he saw the disgusting filth bucket, and the empty water pitcher. After a slight hesitation took them across the hall to the loo. It made him want to sick up, but he managed to empty and rinse the bucket. Then he filled the pitcher to the brim with clean water from the tap. Returning them both to their spots, he added a half-eaten apple from his pyjama pocket that he'd been saving for a snack. On top of the blanket, he laid the pair of glasses that he'd found in the trash the night before. He'd mended them with tape in the hope of finding a way to get them back to his cousin. Content that he'd done all he could for now - he carefully shut the door.

'What's fair is fair. He cleans up enough after me so it's about time I returned the favour. And now everything's back where it belongs,' he thought with satisfaction.

Dudley slipped into the lounge just in time to avoid his father shoving his cousin down the hall. The freak disappeared into the cupboard, which his father padlocked closed just as Aunt Marge started lumbering down the stairs to breakfast, carrying the whinging bulldog Ripper in her arms.

Inside the little cupboard, Boy could hear Miss Marge's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and felt the dust rain down on him with every step she took.

"I can't wait to get at some of that excellent nosh of yours Petunia! The smell has my mouth watering. I have quite an appetite this morning," Boy heard Miss announce loudly. "Then we can get started on the back garden first thing. Of course, this morning I really don't see anything to do out there…"

As Miss joined the rest of The Family in the kitchen for breakfast, her voice faded as the door swung closed behind her. Boy breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad she was here, even if it meant countless long hours in the dark stifling cupboard with nothing to eat and no water to drink. At least when she was here Master wasn't giving him any lessons, and Ma'am wasn't yelling at him - at least not as loud. All in all, his life was much better when Miss was visiting. All he had to do was be quiet and pretend he didn't exist. That he could do. He'd had lots of practice.

Boy hugged his knees to his chest and thought about Hedwig, and the friendly voice from the other side of the fence. He'd been overjoyed to see Hedwig. He'd been afraid she'd been hurt or worse - killed. However, he still didn't know what had happened to Mercury, and was worried about the stately owl. All he had found were a few of his bloody feathers on the ground and feared the worst for his other friend. He wondered if the friendly voice… 'Tonks' it had said to call it… knew anything about Mercury's fate. She seemed to know a lot of things, a lot more than he did. He wished that he could have asked her. He wished he could have asked her a lot of things.

If allowed to ask questions, he was sure she'd have answered them, probably even without hitting him first. She seemed to like to talk. Boy had been mesmerized by her, he'd never heard anyone talk that much before, and then never to him. The most anyone ever talked to him was to tell him to do a chore, or to yell at him for not doing one right, or to tell him how bad and horrible he was. However, Tonks didn't order him to do any chores, and she didn't yell at him. She was a lot like his friends from The Hundred Acre Wood, she just seemed happy just to keep him company.

Boy felt a deep ache in his heart as he thought about his friends from the Woods. He'd lost his friends. Master had taken them away and had set the Woods on fire. He hadn't been able to save them, or even warn them. It was his fault they were dead. It was his fault that Master had killed them because he wasn't a good enough slave. If he'd been just a little bit better, maybe Master wouldn't have taken them. But he was bad. He'd gotten them killed, just as he'd killed his parents, just as it was his fault Mercury was probably dead, just as everything else was always his fault.

Exhausted and depressed, Boy lay down on the hard wooden planks to try to sleep while he could. It was already starting to warm in the cupboard and it was also peculiarly smoky smelling. The acrid odour reminded him anew of the friends he'd lost to the fire, driving the hurt even deeper into his heart. As he curled into a ball, his foot unexpectedly hit a bundle. Feeling carefully around his tiny space he felt something familiar, something he thought was gone forever. His blanket, a little worse for the wear and slightly singed, but it was definitely his blanket.

Could it really be?

'My… my blanket? It was gone… I saw Master light it on fire… so how? It couldn't have been… ma-magic… magic isn't real… Master said so… but the box… was the box was magic? If it was - maybe there is magic… but the box was bad… so if magic is real it must be bad… and something bad wouldn't bring my blanket back… and Master wouldn't have. He tried to burn it.'

'Could it have been Ma'am? No, ma'am wouldn't have saved it either. Ma'am doesn't like me any more than Master does. Then who? Miss? No, Miss doesn't even know I exist. Cousin? It… it had to have been. Cousin must have brought them back to me. He's the only one who's ever given me anything nice…'

Feeling further, Boy's hand came upon the glasses and the half-eaten apple.

'… and he brought me back my glasses, and left food too?'

He was so hungry it was hard to put the apple aside, but Master had told him he wasn't allowed to eat for at least another day, nevertheless that didn't stop him from being amazed over the other gift. Dazed, he unfolded the mended metal frames and pushed them onto his nose. Then as he pulled the blanket into a hug there was a small plop, and his precious storybook fell out of the folds. Boy picked it up with trembling hands. A breath, he hadn't realized he was holding, escaped as he sobbed with relief.

Carefully opening the charred cover in the dim light from the crack under the door, he was relieved to find only a little scorching around the edges of the pages. Miraculously, most of the pictures had escaped the flames. Boy scrunched the sooty blanket under his head for a pillow and curled up, cradling the book in his arms.

A gentle blue glow covered him like a soft warm quilt as he drifted off to sleep with a small smile on his tear-streaked face.

He hadn't dared to hope…

but here they were…

in his hands…

his friends…

safe.