Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!
3. In which someone loses control.
Soon after Harry had gone upstairs, he heard the ambulance crew arrive. They rang the doorbell, then knocked and hollered loudly, and Harry had almost gone downstairs to let them in when he'd finally heard Aunt Petunia leave the kitchen and open the front door. She had not left the kitchen until then; he'd been correct when he'd judged her incapable of calling for help herself.
He couldn't make out everything that happened downstairs, but what he did hear seemed to indicate that Dudley was still alive, if unconscious. The ambulance crew had considerable difficulty carrying him out of the house, but they managed, and they drove off, sirens screaming. Aunt Petunia had gone with them, still wailing.
That was hours ago. Harry had tried to continue his essay, but found he couldn't concentrate. He was now writing letters to Hermione and Ron, telling them what had happened, and was debating whether he would send Hedwig out with them right away. The Dursleys hadn't exactly forbidden him to let her out during the day, but only because they were too scared to. Harry kept Hedwig in her cage during the day for sake of his uncle's sanity, and while he really wanted to tell someone about the incident, he also didn't want to be the cause of any more stress right now.
He hadn't made up his mind when he heard sounds downstairs. Suddenly, the front door slammed open. Heavy steps sounded through the hall.
"HARRY!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from downstairs.
Before Harry could reply, he could hear his uncle come stamping up the stairs, and the door to his room, which had been ajar, flew open so hard it crashed into the wall.
Harry had got up when he heard his uncle holler, but he started and shrunk back when he saw Uncle Vernon enter the room. The big man had turned bright red, beads of sweat stood out on his face, he was gritting his teeth, breathing like an angry bull, and clenching his fists.
"YOU ALMOST KILLED DUDLEY!" Uncle Vernon cried.
Harry held up his hands in front of him in a defensive gesture. "I didn't," he replied again. "Dudley punched the TV when..."
"YOU'RE LYING!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, spit flying from his mouth.
"Uncle Vernon," Harry tried, but it was futile.
Uncle Vernon pulled back his fist and swung, hard, connecting with Harry's right eye. "DON'T EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!" he yelled.
Harry yelled in pain and fell down, clamping his hands to his face. That hurt! Uncle Vernon had beaten him before, but not for several years, and usually it'd just been a slap. He'd never been punched full force in the face. He tried to scoot back, away from his raging uncle, who kicked him hard in the right knee.
Harry yelled out in pain again, clutched his knee with one hand and his face with his other. Uncle Vernon drew back and kicked again, now against his ribs, and Harry gasped for breath.
"Uncle Vernon, stop, no!" Harry managed. He held let go of his knee and face, holding his arms up, trying to fend off his uncle's kicks.
"YOU ARE NO FAMILY OF MINE!" Uncle Vernon raged on, and he dragged Harry up, only to punch him again. Harry fell backwards, striking his head against the desk and knocking over the lamp.
Harry's head rung, he saw flashed of light in front of his eyes. He tried to roll himself into a ball, holding his arms over his head, but he felt Uncle Vernon pick him up by the arms, and he struggled, in vain. His uncle was too big and, in spite of his fat, quite strong.
"No, Uncle Vernon, please listen to me!" he yelled as Uncle Vernon picked him up and threw him down again, where he slammed into his open trunk, hard. Harry screamed again as he fell with his arm on the edge and heard a sickening snap. A sharp pain shot through his arm and tears welled in his eyes. He blinked his eyes, or at least his left. His right was hurting like hell and refused to co-operate.
"YOU FREAK!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, as he stepped forward and reached for Harry again.
Harry, truly scared now, tried to crawl around the trunk. He couldn't see well, with his right eye shut and his head throbbing, but there was only one thing he could think of. With his good, left arm, he reached into the trunk for his wand.
"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Uncle Vernon cried, and with a massive heave he pulled the entire trunk, wand and all, towards him, out of Harry's reach. He looked around for a moment, head turning this way and that, eyes darting like a wild animal. Then, with another heave, Uncle Vernon threw the entire trunk out the window, straight through the windowpane, shattering glass everywhere.
Harry screamed again, torn between reaching for the window and getting away from his uncle's fists. He tried desperately to think of a way to stop his uncle without his wand. He'd done wandless magic before, two years ago with Aunt Marge and even before he went to Hogwarts. But it had always been by accident, he didn't really know how he had done it, and his head hurt so bad he couldn't concentrate! He had to stop his uncle, he had to, he had to! It was no use, the only thing that happened was his head started to throb even worse. He braced himself for the next assault.
However, it seemed Uncle Vernon had found another target for his rage, at least temporarily. He picked up the loose books laying in the room and threw them out of the window after the trunk.
"I AM THROWING YOU OUT, YOU AND ALL YOUR FREAKISH THINGS!" he roared. Then he reached for Hedwig's cage.
"NO!" Harry shrieked. He made a grab for the cage but was flung aside. His protests had just as much effect as his earlier ones, which meant none at all. He watched helplessly as Uncle Vernon threw a screaming and flapping Hedwig out the window, still in her cage.
Harry knew only one thing to do. He scrambled to his feet, ignored the stinging pain in his knee, and dashed past his uncle through the door. He half-ran, half-fell down the stairs, stumbled through the kitchen, which was still covered in shards of glass, spilled coke and other debris, and ran out into the back yard, where Hedwig, his trunk and all his other things had landed.
Breathing hard, he almost collapsed on top of his trunk. Since it'd been open, most of the contents had spilled out. It had a large crack on the side, too. He dug through the pile of books, robes and other items feverishly, as quickly as he could with one arm, then his heart jumped with relief. His wand was in one piece. He pulled it out of the mess and pointed it at the back door, just as Uncle Vernon was coming out.
"Don't come near me!" Harry called out.
Uncle Vernon stopped. His face went from bright red to dead white in a matter of seconds.
"I will go, but don't come any closer," Harry said, and he was surprised by how steady his voice sounded. He didn't know why he had not cursed his uncle instead of just warning him off, he could stupify him, or tie him up, or any of a dozen more unpleasant things. Merlin knew the man deserved it! But he hadn't, and now he wouldn't. His uncle had stopped, and Harry wasn't going to get into trouble just out of spite.
Uncle Vernon backed into the kitchen without saying another word, slamming the door shut.
Harry slowly lowered his wand, then looked down and knelt next to Hedwig, who hooted at him. At least she was alive. He put down his wand, making sure it stayed within easy reach, and carefully picked up the cage. Hedwig hooted softly at him, as she hopped and flapped to take her perch again, awkwardly with one of her wings hanging at a crooked angle.
"The bastard," Harry choked, tears filling his eyes. However much he was hurting, he hadn't really cried until he saw Hedwig's injury. "It'll be all right, Hedwig, I'll take care of you. And we're never coming back here," he told her, blinking furiously.
He put her cage down gently, then, with some difficulty, turned his trunk right side up. The crack in the trunk's side was deep, but it would hold for a while, he hoped. He noticed with another great sigh of relief that his Firebolt was in one piece, only a few twigs had bent where books had landed on top of them. A number of books had cracked spines and bend pages, a few potion ingredients had spilled, but there seemed to be little serious damage, except to the trunk and, well, to himself and Hedwig. Fortunately, he'd not had anything hidden underneath the floorboards. The Dursleys never came into his room anymore and he'd kept everything in his trunk.
Of course, he could fix the trunk and other items with a simple spell, but now that the immediate danger had passed he didn't dare do magic. Magic could be tracked, and while he though his present situation would excuse him if anyone from the Ministry of Magic found him, they weren't the only ones who might show up to see what was happening. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he couldn't face Voldemort like this!
Still keeping his wand within reach, he took a spare belt out of the mess, hung it around his neck and stuck his wrist through it, supporting his broken right arm. Then he clumsily threw his books and other possessions into the damaged trunk. The lid wouldn't close all the way, but with only one arm he could use he would have to drag it anyhow, and nothing would spill. He took out another belt and used it to hang Hedwig's cage over his shoulder. Last of all, he stuffed his wand down his shirt. Then he picked up one end of his trunk and started dragging it off, through the back yard into the narrow alley behind the houses of Privet Drive.