I sat opposite Dumbledore in a McDonalds attached to King's Cross station. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why he would choose to talk in this place, but he seemed to be awed by the décor. Something about the blaring gold and red and white and black all over, combined with the musicality of screaming children from the ages of one and up made him feel at ease, or so I assumed.
Dumbledore unwrapped his burger with gusto and took one large bite. I didn't have the heart to tell him the tomato sauce was leaking on to his beard.
I dug into my burger too.
He reached inside his Happy Meal and pulled out a miniature Batman toy.
"Curious, a man dressed in such tight clothes?"
I blinked. "He's a superhero. Fights crime. His name is Batman."
Dumbledore studied the figure. "Ah muggles, such fascinating storytellers. So, does he turn into a bat?"
I shook my head no. "No, he dresses up as one, sort of."
Dumbledore peered at the Happy Meal toy. "Why?"
"Uh…" I thought back to what little I knew about Batman and shrugged. "You know, I don't actually know why."
He smiled and the sauce spread deeper into his beard. "Something to research. At least the meal lives up to its name. I am most assuredly happy." He laughed at his own pun, the hair on his beard vibrated.
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and coughed to the side instead. "Profess-uh…"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Not to worry, Harry. Professor is fine. I may be on the dole, but I will always be 'Professor Dumbledore' to most of wizarding Britain."
I ducked my head in thanks. "Professor, did you get my letter?"
He looked away from the toy and seemed leagues more serious. He nodded once and placed the toy gently on the table. He reached into his front suit pocket and pulled out the parchment on which my letter had been written.
"I must confess, the contents of your letter left me confused, Harry. The way I understand it, you…make individuals relive the deaths of the Purged if they happen to be in proximity of a Purged when the event occurred?" He stared at me with earnestness.
I swallowed. "Yeah, something like that. But it doesn't just happen every time. Like with George, when he touched my shoulder, nothing happened, but when I clasped his hand…" I made a motion with my hands going boom. "Same with Cissy-"
"Cissy?"
I blinked. "The lady on the Board. Mrs. Malloy?"
Dumbledore sat up straighter at that name. "Malfoy?"
I nodded.
He stroked his beard and paused. His hand coming away streaked in sauce, which he stared at for a moment. He reached for his wand and surreptitiously magicked the mess away. I spied a young girl, aged maybe three or four, seated at the table next to us, staring at Dumbledore's wand with wonder in her eyes. Dumbledore caught her gaze and gave her an exaggerated 'shhhhhh', complete with long spindly finger on his lips. The little girl nodded, but did not stop staring at him.
The whole thing made me smile to myself.
"Well, I have looked into the matter and, if I am being honest, there really is nothing I can say with conclusive evidence. This is largely due to the fact that nobody really knows anything about the Purge itself." Dumbledore paused and looked into the distance.
I had grown used to his pauses during our sadly frequent meetings when I was a student under his care. I therefore knew that he was perfectly accepting of me snapping his train of thought if need be, mostly because his train of thought would never end otherwise.
"Do you have any theories as to what's going on?" I ventured at last.
Dumbledore turned back to me, his eyes no longer distant. "A few. None worth discussing."
I straightened my back. "Well, I wondered if this might be…you know, the Power He Knows Not."
He played with a fresh tomato sauce packet and elegantly tore it open, pouring it over his chips in a messy syrupy fashion.
"I confess, I did consider that too. But I quickly discarded the theory."
"Oh…"
Dumbledore paused to chew his chip. After swallowing he continued. "The only way in which this power to relive the memories of those Purged could harm Voldemort is if he was afraid of the consequences of his actions. If he was truly repentant of the pain he caused the people he wished to subjugate through the Purge. Voldemort is not capable of that kind of remorse, based on my research, something I shall discuss with you further as you grow stronger and are more capable of understanding the complex magic in play. But unless there is more to this power of yours than meets the eye, it is no more than a curiosity, much like your parseltongue ability. That is one theory and I admit, my most preferred one at this time."
I deflated as Dumbledore laid everything out for me. After a few moments, I tried something else. "Do you have another theory?"
"A few others actually. But there is one in particular that I feel is the most farfetched and yet, the one that I most wish to be true."
"What's that one?"
"That the Purged are not truly gone. That they can be returned. Somehow. And your power is the beginning of that return."
I stopped short, unable to formulate a response to that theory. I opened and closed my mouth a few times and finally shut it and kept it shut, simply staring at the ageing wizard with doubt and rising fear.
Dumbledore smiled in that kind way that he does. "Like I said, a farfetched theory, Harry."
"But it would be nice." I whispered.
Dumbledore nodded with a sad look. "Yes, it would."
We sat in silence, finishing up our burgers, chips and drinking our very fizzy cokes. When I was done, I burped quietly into my hand and smiled up at Dumbledore. He winked back at me.
As we stood outside the gold archway of McDonalds, I turned to Dumbledore with a follow up question. "Is there a way to test your farfetched theory?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Yes, I think, maybe… It will require some preparation. I understand you will be spending some time with the Diggorys this summer, yes?"
I nodded quickly.
"Perhaps then." Dumbledore reached out his arm towards me. "Time to head home though, I think."
I smiled despite my insides shriveling up. Returning to Number 4 Privet Drive was not returning home.
#
Things were strange. Definitely strange. And that's really something when you consider how hard the Dursleys try to be as far away from strange as possible.
When I first was apparated in by Professor Dumbledore at the Dursley's doorstep, Aunt Petunia hurried me in, her new silver necklace glinting in the fading sunlight. What followed were the usual looks of disdain from my relatives, until Professor Dumbledore made me explain my prosthetic leg and the support I would need with it.
At that moment, something in Aunt Petunia broke.
"What-what in God's good name happened to his leg?!" She shrieked.
Uncle Vernon waddled up to me as I sat on the couch, my prosthetic lying on the floor and eyed me with a look of something I could not understand. When he turned back to Dumbledore, his face was red as a pimple and turning purplish with every moment and his silver wedding band shone against his white clenched fist.
"You were supposed to KEEP HIM SAFE! And now you're returning him crippled?!" He bellowed.
I stiffened at his choice of words, but swallowed my anger. I was too bewildered by their reactions to really say anything.
Judging by the look of profound regret in Dumbledore's expression and his refusal to offer any excuses, I figured he wanted to accept their anger.
While it was not a turning point in my relationship with the Dursleys – Uncle Vernon still couldn't stand me, Aunt Petunia still eyed me like I was a decomposing pile of shit ruining her carpet and Dudley still avoided me like the plague – it was a softening of their hatred. They didn't quite push me around as much as they used to. I was assigned chores that were doable given my…condition. Everything was frightfully thoughtful, if not loving.
…which is why I should have suspected. Something was definitely off.
#
"Terrible things-"
#
Two weeks into my summer hols, I was sat in my room - the newly refurbished second bedroom for Dudley's toys - first thing in the morning. My head was spinning from the memory of a dream of something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but felt was important.
I had special permission from St. Mungo's to use my wand for medical charms required to keep my stump clean and infection free and assist with the pain of my prosthetic. I recited my focusing mantra (Chocolate Frogs are the chocolatiest-) in the back of my mind as I mechanically ran through my medical charms.
Over the months, I had grown increasingly used to my prosthetic leg. During my last checkup, Healer Tonks had clicked approvingly on multiple occasions.
"Well, Mr. Potter. While it was a slow start and I was worried there for a moment, it seems the magical nerve endings etched into your prosthetic leg are finally beginning to merge with your severed nerves. Given a few years, the connection to your prosthetic limb will feel like second nature."
I beamed at the news.
I woke up early every morning and practised the movement drills that Mr. Moody had taught me.
"Just because you have a break from school doesn't mean you have a break from your lost limb, boy!" Moody did have a way with words.
Drenched in sweat, I opened the front door and limped-walked my way into the house. It was still early enough that the only one awake, possibly, would be Aunt Petunia. I heard the kettle whistle in the kitchen and narrowed my eyes. I was about to ignore the noise and head up to my room when I heard a voice call out to me.
"Er…Harry, is that you? Come in." It was Aunt Petunia.
As much as I wanted to ignore her and head for a shower and change of clothes, I hadn't really spoken to her at all. I only joined the family for dinner, scrounging for breakfast early on my own and enjoying lunch at High Street every day. On my own. Despite everything, the family had been nothing but…not unkind to me… since my return.
I trudged my way to the kitchen and found Aunt Petunia's considerable neck buried in the morning newspaper, a cup of tea in her hands.
"Morning, Aunt Petunia."
She looked up from her paper and for a brief moment, I saw a spasm of the old Aunt Petunia, the one who always seemed to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she happened to have the misfortune of catching sight of me. But like a cube of ice exposed to the sun, her expression melted into something…not-quite disgust and not-quite loathing and not-quite fondness…whatever that mixture was, it was what she melted into.
"Would you-er, would you like some breakfast?" She asked me, the words as unused to her lips as they were to my ears.
I stood there awkwardly.
"Speak up, boy." She snapped and that felt normal.
I shook my head in the negative quickly. "No thank you, Aunt Petunia. I'll be fine."
She nodded once and turned back to her newspaper. I scarpered away, not wanting to test my luck any further.
There was a flash of silver in the entranceway leading up to the staircase and for a moment, my vision blurred and I nearly lost my footing. I pressed my hand on the wall to right myself and blinked rapidly as the buzzing around my head receded. I took deep breaths and focused on the oddly shaped wallpaper to settle my mind.
That was when I felt a strong pat on my shoulder that caused me to yelp. I turned to see Aunt Petunia standing over me, her face a picture of warm curiosity and…concern?
"Are you alright, Harry?"
I nodded, not quite believing the moment. She squeezed my shoulders with both her hands and the ends of her nails dug into me. I clenched my teeth and forced myself not to yelp again.
"I hope you know that I am always here, if you'd like to talk. About anything."
My mouth opened and then not finding any words to say, it closed shut. I nodded, my body buzzing to get away from her as quickly as possible.
She smiled and there was no cruelty in that smile. What in Merlin's name was going on?
"Just so you know, we've spoken to your Professor Dumbledore and cleared everything with him, you will be spending the rest of your summer with these Diggory people? That's fine. But Vernon and I were talking about it and well, we've never had a proper birthday party for you. It was so close to Dudders' birthday, we didn't want to…well, it doesn't matter now. How about we have a small little party for you before you leave, an early one." She smiled and there was kindness and warmth and a genuine desire to do something for me in there.
I remained speechless. I nodded once, hoping that would be enough for her to let me go. Mercifully, it was. I fled as quickly as I could.
#
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
I think something is wrong with the Dursleys. They're acting odd. Aunt Petunia wants to throw me a birthday party and Uncle Vernon asked if I wanted to join him and Dudders for a movie night at the cinema, 'just us boys'…
I finished up my third letter to Dumbledore reporting the Dursley's suspicious behaviour and handed it to Hedwig. She hooted at me and took off into the night.
#
Uncle Vernon leaned down and placed a hand on my head, stroking my hair. His walrus-shaped moustache twitched with fondness as I felt the scrape of his wedding band on my scalp.
#
Dear Professor Dumbledore
I hope you're having a great summer, if it was possible, do you think you could swing by my relatives' house, I definitely feel something is off about them. I'm beginning to grow very worried…
I sighed, scratching my head as I reread my letter. None of this would sound alarming to anyone who wouldn't know who the Dursleys were and how they were with me. Me becoming a cripple should not cause them to undergo a personality shift.
Or maybe, maybe it did? Adults were weird. I tied the sixth such letter to Hedwig's leg and watched her fly off, but the unsteady thrum in my chest continued to beat. I hoped Professor Dumbledore would respond to this one.
#
Aunt Petunia crouched low and hugged me tight, her necklace pressed into my forehead, leaving a creased imprint. Tears fell unbidden from her eyes.
"I love you, Harry. I'm sorry I never said the words to you before today, but I love you so very much."
#
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
There is a farewell party that my relatives are throwing for me before I leave for the Diggory's for the rest of the summer. I would love it for you to join us, if you have some time. I think it would be nice for my relatives to meet more people from the magical world.
Also, while you're here, if you could also bring Healer Tonks with you, I would be very grateful. I have a feeling something might be wrong with my leg...
I read and reread the letter. There was nothing inherently suspicious about it and I hoped it would be enough to entice Professor Dumbledore to at least reply.
I sighed as I watched Hedwig leave with another letter for Professor Dumbledore. He seemed to be routinely ignoring me, though he had spoken to Aunt Petunia to set up the stay at the Diggory's, which was nice of him. I had had a few letters from Cedric and knew that he was coming with his father to pick me up in the evening after my 'party'.
I sighed again. Whatever was going on with the Dursleys, I knew it would be over come Thursday night and then I wouldn't have to deal with them at all until the next summer. That was my only solace.
There was a knocking on my door which distracted me.
"Come in."
The door was flung open and Aunt Petunia came skipping in. No, she was actually, literally skipping in excitement. Her eyes looked bloodshod, like she hadn't slept all night and her arms shook. In her hands was what appeared to be a beautiful, tapered black suit jacket and trousers and a white shirt.
"Harry, son, I stitched these myself for your party. I think you would look oh so lovely in them."
She leaned forward and with a drunken look in her eyes, pulled up my teeshirt.
I slapped her hands away and fell off my chair. Since it was early in the morning, I hadn't yet put on my leg and for a moment, I forgot I hadn't. That moment was enough for me to fall flat on my ass due to a loss of balance. I winced as the shock jumped up from my tailbone.
"Harry!" She was beyond concerned. "Vernon! Vernon! Call 999! Harry fell down!"
I raised my hands up in surrender. "No, Aunt Petunia, I'm fine."
"VERNON!"
There was a thunderous rumbling as heavy feet met squeaky floorboards and Uncle Vernon's large frame filled up my door. His eyes were wide and red, like he had been up all night too.
"What is it, Pet?"
Petunia flung herself into Vernon's arms and cried. "He's hurt himself! He's hurt himself!"
This was all getting a bit much for me.
Vernon came forward, gently pushing Petunia aside. He stared at me like I was on my deathbed. "L-lad?"
"Uncle Vernon, I'm fine, I promise, I just fell down the chair."
With shaky breaths, Vernon leaned down and picked me up in his arms. I was too stunned to protest. "My poor son."
I was too distracted to notice Dudley's bulky body shiver and shake as he ran away, his temper tantrum, ignored yet again.
#
I was asleep. It was a hot June night and I was well and truly lost in my land of my dreams. So you can forgive me for not noticing when my bedroom door creaked open and someone made his way towards my bed. I also didn't notice when a heavy form depressed one side of my bed and gently pressed a pillow over my face.
I did notice when I couldn't breathe.
My eyes shot open and there was blackness. Endless blackness. My lungs burnt. I was inside the basilisk. My body trembled. The basilisk was digesting me. My heart hammered. I was going to die.
…
A flash of silver. The world spun.
With a jolt I pulled the pillow away from my face and sucked in greedy lungfuls of air. I moved my hands around and found the light switch, turning it on and throwing my glasses on my face.
On the floor in front of me, Dudley was flailing like a dying fish, his mouth open in a soundless scream, though I didn't doubt that he was trying his best to pull out a sound.
But the more fascinating thing was the being that stood over him. It was barely a metre tall with bat-like ears and tennis-ball-sized green eyes. Its face was scarred with grotesque features and it was dressed in rags. It had one long finger, much too long for its tiny body, aimed at a flailing Dudley.
It turned to me. "Dobby shall protect the great Harry Potter, sirs."
"Who-"
The door to my room was thrown open. Vernon stood in the doorway in his nightrobe and a shotgun in his hand with Petunia next to him, staring on fearfully with rollers in her hair. For some reason, I was the only one shocked into silence by the creature known as Dobby. My relatives looked past it and turned to stare at their flailing son.
Something within Petunia broke and a truly heart-wracked sob of "Dudley!" escaped her.
"Fat muggle boy tries to kill the great wizard Harry Potter, sirs. Fat muggle boy must dies now."
Dobby pronounced Dudley's death with calm precision. Petunia and Vernon had glazed looks and then nodded as focus returned to their eyes.
A beat later, Petunia walked to Dudley and held him down, to control his shaking. Dudley stared at her, betrayed, his mouth mouthing 'mum' over and over again. Uncle Vernon carefully loomed over his son, his shotgun pointed right at Dudley's silently screaming face.
"We must protect our son," Vernon said.
Petunia winced. Dudley started to silently cry.
That's when I jumped forward from my bed and threw myself on the shotgun.
Click. BOOM!
AN: I don't like to do Author's Notes since I rather any readers who are kind enough to read my story, simply enjoy and focus on the story and not me, but I felt compelled to mention this: We've officially passed over a 100 reviews on this story - not sure when that happened, but I am overjoyed! Thank you so much for your continued love and support on this story! It means the world to me.
As a side note, we are past the halfway mark and now the story is roughly 55% done. I am aiming to hit the Big Finish at approximately Chapter 30, if not 1-2 chapters sooner than that. Thank you all so much!
