To Harry, 4 Privet Drive looked the same as always. Immaculate lawn and car, everything in perfect order. The Dursleys put so much effort into being 'normal' that they never realized that their efforts made them quite abnormal. Harry almost rang the doorbell, but, seeing as he had grown up here, he just let himself in.
That proved to be the only thing that gave him a chance. The front door caught Vernon in the chest, pushing him back from where he had been crouched ready to ambush the returning teen. Dudley was quick to recover, and his fist flew straight into Harry's face, where something crunched. Harry stumbled backwards; one hand flying up to check on the broken nose, the other outstretched to catch him as he fell back, his knees hitting the front of his weighty trunk. Blood dripped between his fingers onto his shirt as he fell. Dudley, taking another swing, missed the falling mage and spun out, catching the edge of the trunk and flying into the grass.
By this time, Vernon had recovered and lunged forward, having had long practice dealing with his weight and how unwieldy it made him. He got a quick grab on Harry's arm and shook the boy like a rat, his other fist plunging into Harry's face and side. Harry scratched and clawed to get out of the hold. One lucky swing caught Vernon's open mouth and yanked on the man's cheek. Vernon, not appreciating the attack on his jaw, threw Harry to the ground.
"No good- Rotten- Son of a-!" He yelled, massaging his bleeding face. Petunia peeked from behind the curtains, eyes glued to the fight, but also scanning for the neighbors. Harry rolled back as Dudley, having recovered, attempted to slam into him. He leapt to his feet and almost drew his wand. He then remembered what had happened last time he had used magic on his family. No need to get Auror Tonks in trouble with the minister. Plus, as he saw out of the corner of his eyes, too many witnesses. From the neighboring houses, the looks grew less and less hidden and more overt. Some of the people looked worried, while others looked more entertained than concerned. It was a good metric of Harry's public opinion on Privet Drive, the number of people who cared to watch, versus caring to make sure no one was hurt. Of course, whether or not the concerned looks were for him or his Uncle though, Harry couldn't tell.
Instead of casting something, Harry physically launched himself back into the fray. Not expecting the boy, they had beaten down for the past decade to go on the attack, they were completely flat-footed. Harry's fist sent Dudley's head snapping back. Anger setting in, the boy whirled past Dudders and sized up Vernon. Vernon, who easily had 6 stone on him, was big, strong, and angry. Harry very much felt like a hippogriff facing a dragon. Vernon started punching at Harry, who did his best to dodge out of reach and avoid his uncles' wild swings, while looking for an opening.
Harry ducked a particularly wild swing got his chance. With all his force, he stomped on the side of Vernon's knee. The joint, after so many years of carrying more than the recommended load, gave like a cheap folding table. Vernon collapsed as his other knee buckled under the strain. The damaged knee was hypertortioned, the leg obviously in a bad way, removing him from the fight. Before Harry could celebrate disabling the more powerful opponent, Dudley pounced.
The dance around the yard Vernon put him through had given Dudley plenty of time to recover. The rotund mass of spoilt brat hit Harry like a demolition ball, sending them both to the ground. Dudley had the upper hand, landing on the smaller boy. His meaty fists rained down on Harry, whose arms were pinned by Dudley's bulk.
"Dudders! Stop! Why?" Harry coughs out, trying to pull an arm out.
"Dunno. But Dad said you deserve it." Dudley wheezed with rancid breath in Harry's face. His own face was blotchy and red, panting from the exertion of beating on someone.
Harry gets a knee free and levered enough of Dudley off to get his arm free. Harry snapped an elbow into Dudley's face, catching the eye socket, and kicked his way free as the boy rolled over.
"Screw you." Harry spat, grabbing his trunk and storming into the house, leaving two groaning men in the yard. Petunia, he notices, has vanished. Harry doesn't bother unpacking, just drops his trunk off in his room and starts patching himself up in the bathroom mirror. When he is cleaned up, he gets a glass of water from the tap and sits at the kitchen table, not looking at either Vernon or Dudley, who Petunia is fussing over.
"The police will be here any minute, boy." Vernon snarls, holding an icepack on his knee.
"Good." Harry snarls back. "By the way, this was going to be the last month you had to put up with me. Was, because I doubt things will go as well with all of this mess."
"You mean we would have been rid of you?" Dudley asks.
"Good job, Uncle." Harry says dryly.
True to form, the police do show up after a few minutes. Petunia answers the door.
"Ma'am, Sir." The officer says, flipping open his notebook. "We received a few calls about the incident. From what we gathered, Harry here came home from school and you attacked him. We understand that he is a difficult boy, with some reporting that he is a criminal. He got the upper hand in the fight and stormed into the house. Does that sound right?"
"The boy is a delinquent. I take a firm hand to keep him on the straight and narrow. He's a thief and a bully, and I do my best. He attacked me, and I confess I did push him into the yard." Vernon says. "Didn't want him busting up the walls again."
"Yes, we noticed the nailed-up mail slot. We also have a report of a former fire hazard. Something about a window being barred from the outside without access. We didn't see anything, but the report is in the record."
"He was sneaking out at night. We had to stop him. Didn't want him bringing any hooligans home."
"Hooligans such as Piers Polkiss?"
"Piers isn't no hooligan!" Dudley shouts. The officer stops to jot down a few notes.
"Moving on. You say the boy was returning from school?"
"Yes officer."
"Which school would that be? Your neighbor said he attends a, " he consults his notes, "St. Brutus Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. We find that a little strange, because St. Brutus Center does not exist. Furthermore, Mr. Potter does not have a record, past a mediocre report card. Poor scholarship isn't a crime, or I'd never have become an officer. Well?"
"Mr. Potter attends a rather private boarding school as a legacy of his parents. Sorry I'm late. I'm inspector Proudfoot, from central office. We were planning to contact him soon in regard to the escaped convict Sirius Black. Mr. Potter here reported a sighting last August, and we are pleased to announce that the matter has been closed."
"When was this, boy?" Vernon asks.
"last August. Right around, err…" He pauses.
"Well? Spit it out." Vernon barks.
"Right around the time you kicked me out for Aunt Marge." Harry admits.
"You blew up at her!" Vernon shouts.
"She called my mother a bitch!" Harry shouts back "And set her dog on me!"
"Now listen here you-" Vernon starts, before the officer coughs discreetly.
"No, do go on. This is good information to have."
"His school started the next few days. He just went a little early, that's all."
"No, it did not!" Proudfoot interjects. "He was contacting his school when he spotted Mr. Black. His school didn't start for 2 more weeks when you threw him out. Mr. Potter was almost distraught, worrying about where he would be staying and then seeing the escaped murderer." She tsks.
"Alright, I've got all I need. You, Mr. Dursley, will likely be hearing from us again with further questions. As for the current incident, there are no grounds to remove Mr. Potter for either his or your safety. That said, a repeat of today's incident will almost definitely result in charges. I suggest you keep it quiet and peaceful for the summer. Mr. Potter, a word." The officer states.
Harry follows the officer to the front door. "Sir?"
"Harry, I don't know what has been going on here, but it doesn't feel right to me. Most of the calls we got from your neighbors told us you were a wild and vicious teenager, who brutally attacked your family. The evidence says otherwise. Your trunk left marks in the grass where you fell over it, meaning you were outside when the fight began. Your uncle lied to me. With the other reports and inconsistencies, I'm going to see if I can get a patrol car to swing by every so often. You don't need to do or say anything. But, if you need us, we are there." The officer tips his hat and walks to the door, "Have a good day, Mr. Potter."
Inspector Proudfoot follows close behind, but lingers long enough to whisper, "Hang in there Sparky," with a wink.
He nearly shouts "Tonks!?" but swallows it down.
"Boy! Get in here." Vernon yells.
"Yes, Uncle?" Harry says defensively.
"Before all this hubbub, Pet and I were going on vacation. Now, we're taking Dudley too. This place had better be in one piece when we return, you hear me! I would lock you in the cupboard for what you did today, but those ruddy coppers will be by and if they don't see you, they'll poke their noses more. We'll return in two weeks."
The next morning, the Dursleys left in a rush of bags and stern warnings. Of course, they made him load their luggage in the boot of the car, and of course he had to make their breakfast. But by 10 o'clock, they were gone. The house was empty. Harry immediately started the on the list of chores they left him. Since the majority of the list was cleaning every surface and room in the house, he started in the living room and worked outward, draping sheets over everything as he went. He took a short break for lunch, almost being done with the formal dining room. Midafternoon, it started to storm. The rain set in gently at first but picked up sharply. Staccato drops beat down on the roof and rattled against the windows, the plants in Petunia's garden swaying and bouncing under the deluge. The wind started as well, blowing the trees back and forth.
Harry had just finished cleaning up Dudley's room when the storm really broke. Lighting flashed and thunder roared shaking the home as the full fury of mother nature burst over the town. Giant forks of lighting leapt from cloud to ground to cloud to trees. The rumble of thunder was like a pack of tigers all snarling at once. Small splats came from the windows as leaves and other debris were thrown against them. The pristine yard turned into a mud puddle, the gutters overflowing and the ditch in the front yard spilling into the street. Trees creaked and groaned as they were tested to their limits by the pounding elements. Harry decided enough had been done for the day when the lights flickered a few times.
"No sense in blowing out the vacuum if the power goes out," he thought to himself, winding up the cord. Harry made a kettle of tea and took a seat in the kitchen, watching the rain outside the window.
It was strange, but the storm, despite being so violent and sudden, was calming Harry down. There was just something about the rush of water, the simple but powerful nature of the wind and the rain that set him at ease. The dull rush of water, pouring over the stone, off the trees, bouncing from the roof, pulling everything that didn't belong away. It was a reckless and frenetic cleaning, a rough scouring of anything that wasn't securely attached. Outside, a trampoline rolled past, having been pulled from someone's yard. Harry watched it hop the fence, curve around Petunia's roses, and out the other side of the back yard. It was in the midst of this calm and peace that a knocking came at the front door.
Harry went and checked the door, careful to leave it locked less it be some reprobate. Much to his shock, it was Hermione!
"Hermione? What are you doing here? Come in, come in." Harry says quickly, throwing the door open for his soaked friend. Her shoes squish as she steps in, and he is quick to take her jacket and hang it up in the kitchen, where it won't drip on the floors.
"Hello, Harry. Some weather we're having. It's got all the meteorologists puzzled; the thing blew up out of nowhere!" She says, peeling off her shoes, which Harry lays in the empty dish drying rack.
"Not that I don't appreciate seeing you, but what brings you here?" Harry asks, leading her to the kitchen and pouring her a cup of tea.
"Thank you, Harry" she says automatically, wrapping her hands round the cup. "Harry! What happened to your nose? Was it part of the crash?" she gasps, reaching up to check for herself.
Harry bats her hands away, "No, Dudley just got in a good hit yesterday. They didn't appreciate me being late to the station. They were pretty pissed when I got home."
"That's awful of them. I'm real sorry Harry." She says quietly. "After the fiasco with the train, I wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay. The whole thing was a mess! Since I'm a muggleborn, I got a front row seat to the whole aftermath. They set up a checkpoint for parents to pick up their children at- an adult would show up and sign them out. Of course, some had already come and gone by the time the Aurors got it running. Susan helped me find the others who didn't have anyone coming to get them. Susan Bones, her aunt's the head of the DMLE. Those of us who hadn't anyone coming to get them just waiting until the ministry figured out that no one was coming for us. I'm so glad that Ms. Clearwater was there, she was Head Girl, because she explained that most of us where from Muggle families who would be rightly worried by then." She paused to take a breath and Harry reached over and set his hand on hers.
"You've got to remember to breathe Hermione." He teases.
"I'm sorry I'm rambling so much, but I couldn't' tell this to my parents- they still want to pull me out! Penny got them to portkey us to platform 9 ¾, where our families were waiting. We were late, but I just told them there was a delay with the train."
"So, you wanted to make sure I was okay? You came all the way out to Surrey for that?" Harry asks.
"Well," She pinkens, "I had a bit of a tiff with dad and stormed out. Mom suggested that I check on my great-aunt, to give him time to cool off. Then the storm happened, and I remembered where you lived, and the bus stop was right there, so, here I am!" Hermione answers, watching the rain on the windows.
"Where's your great-aunt live?" Harry asks. "I'll go with you."
"She's not actually my great-aunt, she's more distantly related than that, but we call her my great-aunt to simplify things She's somewhere on Wisteria Walk. It's just a couple streets over."
"We might want to wait for the storm to die down first." Harry says.
"That's probably a good idea." Hermione adds, looking around. "So, are the Dursleys out?" she asks carefully, remembering not to call them his relatives.
"They left for vacation. I have the house to myself for 2 weeks." Harry says proudly.
"They left you alone. Here. For 2 weeks?" Hermione asks incredulously.
Misunderstanding her, Harry preens, "Yeah, I know. I didn't think they'd do it either. I'm amazed they trusted me not to burn it down or something."
"Yeah, imagine that, "She says weakly. Whatever she is going to say next is swallowed up by the phone ringing.
"That never rings." Harry says to her, grabbing the phone. "Dursley residence. Yes ma'am. No, they're out of town." Harry listens for a minute. "I can help. I'll be right over." He hangs up and turns to Hermione.
"That was the lady who used to babysit Dudley and I, Mrs. Figg. A tree fell on her house. I'm going over to see if I can help her get her cats moved and rescue her things. You're welcome to stay here or you can come with. She lives on-"
"Wisteria Walk. Is her first name Arabella?" Hermione asks, picking up her shoes.
"I have no idea. She's always been Mrs. Figg to me." Harry admits.
"I bet it is. If so, she's my great-aunt. I'm ready when you are." She says, making a face as she tugs on her still wet shoes.
Braving the storm, Harry and Hermione dart onto the Dursleys' narrow front porch. Harry fishes out the key from the flowerpot and locks the door, slipping the key into his pocket.
"Ready to run for it?" he asks, turning to face her on the narrow porch. It's a good thing they're used to hiding under the invisibility cloak, as they shuffle around in the tight patch of dry, neither one eager to step into the cold downpour off the roof.
"He's almost taller than me now." She thinks to herself. At her nod he grabs her hand and plunges into the pouring wet. They dash across the muddy yard and hop the ditch, swirling brown with sticks and bags and papers being swept away. Their feet send up large splashes as they land on the road, which has a couple of inches of water rushing down it.
"This storm can't be natural!" She shouts at him as they run along. She's tiring from the sprint, but his hand is in hers and he's dragging her along whether she wants to or not, so she does her best to keep her feet. They cut through the playground where he saw Sirius, water rushing out of the slide and thundering onto the pavement. Harry leads them through a hedge and they're at Mrs. Figg's back porch.
"Mrs. Figg?" Harry shouts, blinking out rain. They circle around the house and find the fallen tree. It wasn't massive, but it was solid enough to punch through the roof. When its roots gave way, it crashed on the roof, which absorbed most of the impact. When the roof broke, the tree fell through part of the wall, stopping about chest high from the inside.
"Oh my." Hermione gasps, hands flying to her mouth.
"It's not quite as bad as it looks." Mrs. Fig says from inside, having thrown open a window. "This was the spare bathroom. As long as we can pull everything out of here and close it off, the house should be alright in the long run. Harry, I haven't seen Mr. Tibbles. Do you see him?"
Harry looks around the tree, pulling at the branches and pushing. "He's not in the tree, and I don't think he'd be caught under it." He says.
"Harry." Hermione says, standing back up from where she knelt in the dirt. The cat is clutched to her chest.
"Mrroaw." Mr. Tibbles complains at the wet.
"He was hiding under the trunk." She explains, carrying him to the windows and handling her over.
"Oh, thank goodness." Mrs. Figg says, taking the cat from Hermione.
"Hermione, dear, if you could come inside for me and help me grab things from in here. Harry, there should be a saw in the garage. Could you lop off some of the more protruding branches for me?" Mrs. Fig asks. The two teens circle back to the front of the house and into the open garage. Harry finds the saw hanging on the wall and grabs it while Hermione leaves her shoes in the garage and continues in. They meet through the window in the back, checking on each other as they work. Hermione glances up as she's pulling drawers out of the bathroom, and sees Harry, too big clothes plastered to his frame, hacking at another pile of branches. He shakes his hair out of his face and their eyes meet as he tugs at the knot.
"Doing good?' she asks.
"If these will," he tugs, "come out!" he grunts, yanking the pile of branches, which slide loose all of a sudden and send him splashing down on his butt, clutching an armful of leaves and sticks. She can't help but giggle.
"I daresay you're enjoying yourself." She teases.
"Oh, it can't get much better than this." He says back, pushing his hair back out of his face.
"Dear, can you help me move this table, so we have more room in here?" Mrs. Figg calls.
"I've got to run." Hermione says. "You're making great work."
Harry returns to trimming down the tree, piling the branches in the front of Mrs. Figg's home. He falls into a rhythm with the rain keeping tempo, of cutting through an armful and lugging them away. Thunder booms irregularly and the crown of the tree thins quickly. Hermione and Mrs. Figg clear out the bathroom and close it off, leaving only the window for Harry to communicate through. He has just gotten the last of the crown cut through when Mrs. Figg pokes her head out of the window, holding a magazine over her to keep the rain off.
"Wow, Harry. You've done a great job." She praises.
"I don't want to make things worse, but I think I can cut the tree out of the house." he says. "There's not that much actually in your bathroom, and now that I pulled the branches off, it shouldn't be too much work to cut it about here," he places the saw on the tree trunk, "and pull the rest out."
"If you're sure you can do it, go for it! Just be careful." She says. Harry takes a step back to double check but decides it's doable. He set the blade in place and starts sawing, careful to cut at an angle so the tree doesn't bind the saw. He runs into a few snags and has to readjust, but eventually he cuts through enough that the rest of the tree splits. He sets the saw aside and grabs a few of the protruding stubs of the branches he cut and heaves. The top of the tree doesn't want to move, but Harry is more stubborn than it is, and he slowly pulls it out. He has to pull the top up to get it over the hole in the wall, rotating it out to avoid snagging. It does come loose, and Harry flops down on the grass, not caring how soaked he is. Hermione chooses then to poke her head out.
"You did it! Great! I found some plastic in the garage; I think we might be able to lay it out against the hole to try and keep most of the water out. Course, it would be easier with sticking charms, but we can't. I'll grab it while you rest for a second." Hermione came back shortly with a large swath of plastic sheeting. "Her neighbors had their yard worked on a few weeks ago, and the plastic blew into her garage. She'd been meaning to get rid of it, but it's a good thing she didn't! Here, take this end and see if you can get it up on the roof above the hole." She passes the sheeting to Harry.
"I've got it up here, but there's no way to hold it down." He shouts back over a rumble of thunder.
"Nothing? I was hoping you could wedge it under a shingle or something." She shots back.
"Nope. It won't stay." He calls back.
"Alright then. We tried. Come back down." She says disappointedly.
Harry frowns, he didn't want to upset Hermione. He searches for something to hook it on, but everything is nailed down. He was halfway climbing down when he spotted the nail. When the tree busted through the roof, it tore apart the ceiling. Part of the exposed material was a nail, about four inches long, halfway out of the beam it had been in. It's out of reach from where he is, but if Harry can get just a little higher he might be able to hook the sheeting on it.
"Hold on, I might have something." He calls back.
"Be careful!" Hermione shouts back. Harry climbs back on the roof and scoots around the hole, careful of the slick shingles and the unstable roof. He doesn't know how many beams have been broken or left unsupported when the tree crashed. Harry very carefully stretches out and is just short of being able to spear the plastic on the nail. He just needs another inch or two. He tries again, pushing as hard as he can, but his fingers are just a little too short. "One more go." He tells himself, readjusting his grip. He gingerly steps on the beam and reaches out, ignoring the creak, and snags the end of the nail. The beam creaks again and he quickly steps back, off the wood. For a moment, everything is calm. Then the sky shakes as a loud clap of thunder booms and Harry's foot slips.
All of the breath goes out of him as he hits the ground.
"HARRY!" Hermione screams, rushing through the house and into the yard to check on him. "Are you alright! I told you to be careful! Oh, you'd better be okay! Harry! Harry!"
"Easy 'Mione." Harry groans. "I'm okay. just the wind knocked out of me. Help me up?" She tugs him to his feet, and they stumble to the garage, Harry still a little unsteady. Hermione helps him sit down on the cement and then proceeds to whack him on the arm.
"Harry James Potter! You just about gave me a heart attack!" she scolds, smacking his arm again for good measure, before flipping emotions and wrapping him in a tight hug. "Don't you ever do something so foolish again."
Harry awkwardly past her on the back, half trapped by the quietly crying girl. "I'm okay. It wasn't that bad. Just a bit of a shock. No worse than getting dumped off my broom in practice. We need to secure the bottom of the sheet." He fidgets to move, and she tightens her hold.
"You're staying right here until both our hearts settle down." She murmurs.