Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Since we are in the midst of a Pandemic, along with the isolation measures, I have decided to upload a chapter every few days rather than the customary one chapter/week. But when I did this with a previous story, sometimes readers missed reading a chapter and then complained about the lack of continuity. So try not to skip chapters.
And to all of my readers, stay safe and don't allow the changed world to take all pleasure from your life.
This story is around 130,000 words, it is complete, though I am still fiddling with the later chapters.

Chapter 3:

Harry was quiet and respectful when he alighted from the train and was met by his uncle. Vernon looked him over with a sneer, but when Harry was having trouble with the heavy trunk, he lifted it easily and stowed it in the boot of the car, while Harry carried the cage with Hedwig. Harry took note. His uncle might be fat and slow-moving, but he was strong. He had to avoid a physical fight with him. All the same, these holidays he would have enough to eat, and he would not put up with being pushed around, not by Vernon, not by Dudley.

There were no fireworks that evening. Petunia had cooked, and Harry was served a small meal, the same amount as Petunia had, though both Dudley and Vernon were given much larger meals.

There was a lot of conversation, mostly about Dudley's first year at Smeltings. He said that it was mostly 'boring.'

And then Petunia asked Harry, "And you, Harry? Boring?"

Harry was surprised she asked, and wondered if Dumbledore actually had spoken with them. He answered, "Sometimes it's boring. There's History, and the teacher's so bad that most of the class goes to sleep and he doesn't even notice."

Vernon chuckled, surprisingly good-humoured. "Lucky we don't have to pay the tuition then."

Harry asked, "Uncle Vernon, is any money paid to you from the trust fund?"

"For your keep? None. There never has been."

"Then one day, when I can access it, and if there's enough, maybe I can pay you back."

Vernon frowned at him, and Harry had to make an effort not to squirm in fear. Some of the past beatings had been severe. But he held his nerve and tried to look back calmly. Maybe if he acted the adult, then Vernon would not act the petulant child.

Dudley was staring at him, surprised at the turnaround, but then laughed. "As if you'll ever have any money to pay anything!"

Harry barely glanced at him, instead saying, "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, did Dumbledore come and talk to you?"

Petunia spoke with disgust. "I saw him just once, when you were very small. Not since. He is not a good man."

"No. I think he might be a very bad man, and yet he pretends to be nice."

"He didn't pretend to me. Just told me we had to have you or we'd be punished."

And Vernon added, "And I didn't see him at all. Just that Petunia told us we gave you a home or else."

Harry said, "No wonder you were annoyed with me. Still, there's only another six years of summer school holidays, and then I'll be seventeen, which is adult in the wizarding world, and you will be free of me."

Petunia rose and said, "I'll get dessert, will I? And Harry, you can start cleaning up."

Harry knew it had been going too well, and he didn't remember ever getting dessert at the Dursley house. He started cleaning up, and once finished, prepared himself a small snack of toast and jam, which he had in the kitchen, with tea. He thought he liked tea better than pumpkin juice, which might have been a novelty early on, but had never really been a favourite.

xxx

At a much larger and far more luxurious home, the Malfoy family dined in style. They were served by two human servants, though the food had been prepared by two of the five House-elves that were Bonded to their family.

The house-elf called Dobby was the one relegated to the most menial of tasks. He was the only one who appeared dirty; the rest wore the standard tea towel-like slave garment, but they were clean. The other house-elves tried to keep Dobby away from the Family. They didn't understand the rebellious elf, the one who refused to keep himself clean, and the one who, so often, misinterpreted orders, sometimes even tried to interfere and so ended up in trouble. None of the other elves were routinely punished, but Dobby seemed to be in trouble whenever he came into contact with Family. So they gave him the dirty jobs and ignored his complaints. House-elves were not supposed to complain, but to accept their lot and live a life devoted to the welfare of the Family. Dobby was an oddity.

Dobby was also intensely curious. Whenever he had the chance, he listened closely to what the Family were saying whenever they were together, as they now were. Neither the other elves nor any of the humans knew he was close, ears flapping.

Narcissa Malfoy politely dabbed her lips with the napkin, and smiled upon her son. "It is good to have you home, Draco," she said.

Draco smiled at her and said, sincerely, "It is good to be home."

"Any more quarrels with the young Potter?" asked his father.

"Not for a while, but there was something happen to Potter straight after exams. He was in the hospital wing, but all we were told is that it was Magical Exhaustion."

"So what was he doing to exhaust himself?" Narcissa asked.

"We don't know, but there were rumours that it was something to do with the Dark Lord. Maybe that there had even been a fight. And Quirrell burnt to death, we heard."

"Quirrell? The Defence teacher?"

"I told you about him. He was hopeless. He could not have anything to do with the Dark Lord. He always seemed terrified. He stammered!"

Lucius paid full attention to his young son, and said carefully, "Tell me everything you know. The smallest rumour, even if it seems unlikely. And just where you had the information."

Draco started. Everything he knew about what had happened, though he didn't know much. That it involved a dangerous monster kept on the third floor corridor, he knew that, though not that it was a Cerberus called Fluffy. That the three Gryffindors had been wandering at night, as they'd done before, but this time, they didn't lose any points, but that was probably because Dumbledore had discovered them instead of McGonagall, "The headmaster always favours the Gryffs." But most importantly, that was the night that Quirrell ended up dead, and he said with some relish, "Burnt, we heard. Burnt horribly. One of the prefects saw, and he said he was sick!"

Lucius Malfoy listened carefully, prompting his son when needed, and steering him away from the useless complaints of favouritism.

He said finally, "Tell me again what you saw in the Forbidden Forest that time."

"I didn't think you believed me about that."

"I want to hear you tell me again, every detail."

Finally, Lucius sat back in his chair, and said, "I have heard the boy lives with Muggles. Is he being abused, do you think?"

Draco shook his head positively, "Not him. He's Dumbledore's pet. No-one would be game."

Narcissa said, "I was talking to a friend. He said that he'd heard he was very thin."

"I wouldn't know about that."

"Are there any indications that his family is very poor?"

Draco started to shake his head, and then hesitated, thinking. He finally said, "The first time I saw him on the train, he was wearing clothes too big for him, and there was a tear in the leg of his trousers. I don't think I have seen him out of uniform since."

"Most students wear casual clothing at weekends, don't they?"

"Most do, but he doesn't. And something else - he wears glasses. But can't they fix bad eyesight?"

"Unless it is very bad, they can."

"You think he has a bad home?" Draco asked.

"It sounds like it."

"What do you think about the strange things around him? Like a spirit maybe? Like that thing in the forest with the unicorn?"

Lucius said, "I don't know. But anything you see or hear, tell me. It could be vitally important."

"Will you tell me why?"

"Maybe when you are older. Meantime, please forget this rivalry between you. If you can't befriend him, at least leave him alone."

"Yes, Father."

There was a quiet discussion later that night once Draco was in his own apartment. Could the Dark Lord be close, maybe as a disembodied spirit? If so, would it be wise to try and find him, maybe try and help him?

Narcissa said, "Maybe just stay very quiet?" and Lucius admitted, "He was difficult to serve. I don't want to go back to that."

"We are respected now, and you are very influential."

"So we cross our fingers that he remains a spirit? That is, if he is close. We don't know that."

"All we know is that something happened. Maybe."

"And the unicorn. I thought Draco was imagining things at the time."

"But why would there be a Detention at night, in the Forbidden Forest? That really was bizarre. Bizarre and unforgivable."

"It's a pity I didn't succeed in having Dumbledore removed, but he has too much support."

"The Dark Lord. We know he was concerned with the Potters, something about a prophecy. So it makes sense that if he lives, in whatever form, they would clash."

"If it was a true prophecy," Lucius said, somewhat sceptically.

"If Voldemort believed it, it makes no difference if it is true or invented."

"It could be true. He was a baby and yet managed to survive an attack by a very powerful wizard. The 'Boy-Who-Lived' and all that."

"I can sense inherent power," Narcissa said, but Lucius said, startled, "I didn't know that!

"Bella can, too. I think it is why she fell under the spell of the Dark Lord."

"I never fell 'under his spell,' I just thought he had the right ideas."

"If I could meet the boy, I would probably know if he does have the power."

"If Draco hadn't made an enemy of him, there might have been a chance."

"They probably wouldn't have quarrelled if the boy was being reared as he should be. Skinny, that was what Ellen Wood told me. Her son told her after the first time he played Quidditch; her Oliver is the Quidditch captain. He said skin and bones. And Draco said he was dressed in rags."

"I wonder what Dumbledore is thinking of. It doesn't make sense that he is not looked after."

After a long pause, Lucius said, "The Dark Lord left me an artefact he valued."

"Then keep it very safe, Husband," Narcissa said firmly. "I hate to think how he might treat you if it is not waiting for him if he does return."

xxx

Harry was up early in the morning, finding a large stack of bacon and a dozen eggs available which he knew he was expected to cook for Dudley and Vernon, though Petunia would only have a couple of slices of toast. But no-one was stirring yet, and he quickly set the breakfast table, and then made a generous serving of bacon and eggs for himself.

Petunia caught him finishing it off, eating in the kitchen. She stared and said explosively, "What do you think you are doing?"

Harry said, projecting calm as much as he could, "Having breakfast, Aunt Petunia. I am not going to put up with going hungry ever again. And I need high protein meals, like bacon and eggs. The nurse told me that my growth has been stunted thanks to past starvation."

"I never starved you."

"Are Dudley and Uncle Vernon on the way down? Should I start cooking theirs?"

"I never starved you!"

"Of course, you did. Times when you didn't allow me food for days, even times when I was locked in the cupboard and didn't even have water. I know some very powerful people now, more powerful than fool Dumbledore, and I will not tolerate poor treatment any more."

"Fool Dumbledore," Petunia said thoughtfully.

"Fool Dumbledore. I will be a wizard one day, Aunt Petunia. I will be able to wield magic as easily as he does. Treat me well, and I will look after you."

Petunia reached for the frypan. "I will cook breakfast for the others. No need for you to join us."

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia. You want me to mow the lawn after? I notice it's a bit long."

"I would appreciate that."

Well, that had gone well, Harry thought. If only it stayed as easy as that. He quickly washed the utensils he'd used and retreated to his room. His wand was in his pocket. If he had to defend himself with magic, then he would. He had no intention of allowing his wand to be taken from him. It would either be on his person or under his pillow while he slept. He might only be eleven still, but he had to grow up, and he had to look after himself. Dumbledore was not going to look after him, that was obvious, but maybe, at least, with a combination of bribery and threats, his aunt and uncle might not make it more difficult to grow up. He wondered if it was too late to make up for that early poor nutrition. He'd had a whole ten months of good food, and he was no longer as skinny, but he was still not much taller than he had been at the start of the year. He really needed to grow a bit.

Harry did a lot of thinking that day as he mowed the lawn and then did some gardening. Petunia said little to him, but she did seem to be looking at him more than usual.

Vernon ignored him, and so did Dudley, except for a sly punch in the ribs, but he'd been close to his mother, and Harry was waiting to catch him on his own. He had a plan for Dudders.

It was evening when he put his plan into effect - a quiet visit to his bedroom ten minutes after he had retired for the night. Petunia and Vernon were still downstairs.

Dudley shot up in bed when he abruptly switched his light on, and stared at the wand aimed at him, and then opened his mouth presumably to yell.

Harry hissed, "Silence, or you will see what I can do now."

Dudley made a strangled sound, but nothing else.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, and said in a pleasant voice, "I am going to tell you a story. It is about a man I know, not a good man."

Dudley stayed silent, his eyes on the wand, and Harry continued. "His name is Voldemort. He has a liking for hurting children, especially Muggle children."

"Muggle?" Dudley managed to blurt out.

"Non wizards. People like you and your parents. I am going to tell you the sorts of things he likes to do."

By the time that Harry had finished, Dudley was looking as green as Harry had after Dumbledore had spoken to him. What he had told Dudley was not exactly the same as Dumbledore had told him; he didn't mention proud pure-blood wizards kneeling to kiss the hem of dirty robes - he thought now that he never had believed that. But he had added a few little titbits, like that Voldemort especially adored fat Muggle boys because it was such fun to turn the fat into a burning liquid.

Harry said quickly, "Don't be sick. It won't happen to you - as long as you leave me alone. No more punches, and then, if, one day, he comes for you, I will not allow him to take you. You see, I'll be a wizard as well, just as powerful as he is."

"You?"

"Me. I am not big, but I will be bigger. And already I am powerful, more powerful than you will ever be. More powerful than your father will ever be."

He stood up, "So just bear it in mind, and the next time you think to punch me, or you want to set your gang on me, remember that there will be punishment, maybe not straightaway, but certainly, one day."

"Yes, Harry."

Harry smiled kindly at him, though he was not feeling kindly. "We are cousins. All you have to do is to leave me alone and nothing bad will happen to you."

Dudley's eyes went to the wand as Harry slipped it back into his pocket. And he nodded. Nodded hard. Harry went to bed, very satisfied. He had dealt with Dudley. Only Vernon remained. And he felt better about Voldemort, as well. Dumbledore had set out to scare him, though he didn't know why, unless he thought it too much bother to find him a different home.

And now he'd scared Dudley, for his own reasons. Dumbledore lied. And he really had to find out more about Voldemort. He was supposed to have killed his parents, but maybe they were only casualties of war, his parents fighting on the side of Dumbledore. Maybe he never had been hit by a curse. He touched a finger to the scar on his forehead. If no-one had ever before survived a Death Curse, how did anyone know it would leave a zigzag scar? Maybe it was not even a curse scar. Maybe it was simply a deep cut that had scarred because it had not been treated.

But then, it was apt to twinge when Voldemort was close, and it was agony when he was really close. That had to mean that it was not an ordinary scar. He really needed someone to ask, someone knowledgeable in magic.

xxx