Chapter 2: Dursleys

In which I show what I told you about the changes that have happened at home over the past two years, in which I prove through my vocabulary that I am American and not British, and in which I set up the situation for the first two WDs. My roommate is very mad at me about the nine WDs which will occur during this story, as are the rest of my friends, but I DON'T CARE. It's necessary to the plot so don't complain about it. After the first two WDs I will stop telling you when they are coming, it's a surprise.

The next morning was like any other morning in the Dursley household. Harry was the last one to the breakfast nook, and received cold pancakes and bacon. "At least they stopped forcing me to make breakfast," he thought gratefully as he doused his meal in cold syrup. He ate it alone, as the Dursleys had already retired to the living room for a discussion about he didn't particularly care what. After his fourth pancake Harry was full, and decided to find out what was so interesting. It had to be something good, or otherwise they would have been in to taunt him by now.

As Harry walked in to the living room all conversation ceased. Uncle Vernon had been looking at the floor, and his gaze remained studiously fixed in that direction. Aunt Petunia took a quick look at Harry and then hurriedly gave her attention to the window. Dudley uttered a small squeak and shrank back in to his chair, watching his cousin in horror. It was a better reaction than Harry had expected.

"Hello, all," he said brightly, sitting in an empty chair. "Lovely day."

Aunt Petunia fidgeted a little, and Uncle Vernon looked up with a mix of hatred and fear in his eyes. "Since when does he fear me?" Harry wondered.

"Harry." Uncle Vernon spat out the word as if it had a foul taste. "Have your friends written to invite you to stay the holidays yet?"

"What?" If Harry had been expecting anything, this wasn't it.

"It seems like they do every year," said Uncle Vernon dismissively, yet obviously driving to further some object. "I was merely surprised that you had not yet received an invitation."

"Ah. Well, the bars on my windows keep owls from getting in with their messages, you know. I expect he has tried to reach me but was not able to because of them."

The next day, Uncle Vernon paid a man to take the bars off of Harry's windows, and unlocked Hedwig's cage. Harry had no problem whatsoever with the Dursleys trying to get rid of him; he would have liked to get rid of the Dursleys. He was surprised, though, that they were willing to get rid of Harry by making him happy: usually they preferred to keep him at home, subdued and miserable. It made no difference, though, and Harry grinned as he watched Hedwig fly off into the August night with a message for Ron.

Perhaps if he had known the motives for the Dursleys' sudden change in heart, Harry would have been less willing to leave. While Harry was busy with his breakfast on the morning of the 31st, the three Dursleys were busy discussing the letter they had received on the previous day.

It had been sent in the ordinary muggle fashion, with perfectly placed writing and only one stamp. The rest of the letter was quite extraordinary.

Dear Mr. And Mrs. Vernon Dursley,

How are you? I trust that everything is going well out in the muggle world. I must confess that we do not as a group keep up with your news, but I personally subscribe to a selection of muggle newspapers, just in case something important appears in them. I will assume, as I have seen nothing to the contrary, that things are going well.

But, alas, we cannot linger on the pleasantries for very long. I am writing to you because you are Harry's guardians and he is in great danger. As long as he remains with you he cannot be harmed, even if he is attacked by the most powerful forces known to mankind. If he leaves you for a destination other than Hogwarts, however, it is very likely that he will be killed or injured. Harry is no ordinary wizard.

I give my very best wishes for you,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Of course such a letter could not go unnoticed. After drawing the blinds and turning on the television as precautions against spying neighbors, the Dursleys sat down and discussed what should be done with Harry. The unanimous decision was to remove him as soon as possible from Privet Drive, for a few reasons. There was, of course, the happy fact that if Harry was gone, he was, well, gone. The Dursleys wouldn't have to deal with him for another year. While this was almost always balanced out by the desire to keep Harry unhappy at all times, the recent letter from Dumbledore had assured that that was not an issue. Although it had recommended that Harry remain at Privet Drive, the mention of attack as a definite possibility was yet another incentive to get Harry out of the house. It was decided; Harry should be sent off to stay with his friends for the rest of the summer. This was an arrangement that everyone except Dumbledore approved of.

On the 3rd of August, Hedwig returned with Ron's letter.

Harry,

Glad to hear the muggles are finally cooperating! It's weird, isn't it?

The sudden change in heart, I mean. Oh well, the better for both of us...

Don't feel bad about inviting yourself! You know very well that you're welcome here at any time. Mum and dad are looking forward to having you over again. We'll pick you up at 6:00 this coming Saturday, if that's okay with the muggles. Just make sure the chimney's open this time, and we're only sending mum. To make your cousin feel better, ha ha.

Seeya soon,

Ron

As the Dursleys were very persistent in their assurances that Saturday would be fine, though perhaps not early enough, Harry spent the greater part of the rest of the week packing his Hogwarts school supplies, taking extra care that his Firebolt was carefully wrapped in cotton, then in dragon hide. He often found Dudley peeking around the corner at him during these sessions, much to his surprise. Once he came back to his room after taking a shower and found his belongings carefully spread out on the floor, with his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them open to the fourth page. It was rather unnerving to think of his cousin taking such an interest in magic: before this summer he had shrunk from the very word. Strange, indeed; strange and ominous. Harry suspected that his aunt and uncle were using Dudley as a spy, though to what end he had no idea.

Saturday arrived. The Dursleys were less nervous than they had been for the previous two years, and actually seemed to be in quite high spirits. All of the residents of Number 4 Privet Drive had their eyes on the clock for most of the day. Mr. Dursley was thinking about how peaceful the house would be after Harry was gone. Mrs. Dursley was feeling relieved that finally she would be able to spy on the neighbors with nothing to hide from their eyes. Dudley was out cold, Harry having used Avada Kedavra on him a few short hours earlier.

Just kidding.

Harry was staring out the window, wishing he were at the Burrow. Shallowly, he had forgotten the unsigned letter he had received. All his thought was bent on the passage of time, willing it forward to 6:00. The day, like a boring science teacher, droned on and on and on. Harry fell asleep with a fly buzzing lazily in his ear.

It was dawn, somewhere in the American midwest. Harry didn't know where he was, though. He saw a familiar circle in front of him; for a minute he thought it was Stonehenge. He started toward it, but then he stopped. It wasn't Stonehenge: it was a circle of Voldemort's death eaters.

Harry didn't run away. He had been through enough of these dreams to know that he was in no personal danger. In fact, he was an even more useful spy than Snape, as no one knew of his presence. He crept closer, and actually stepped through Mr. Malfoy into the center of the ring. Then he kicked Voldemort in the balls. He knew it wouldn't hurt him, but it was satisfying anyway.

The death eaters were waiting for something, and Voldemort was pacing up and down in the middle of the circle. There were a few gaps in the ring; Harry supposed that they were for members that had not yet arrived. His guess was confirmed as more people apparated in to their places. Finally there was only one gap. Then even that was filled; Professor Snape had just joined the group.

"Good." Voldemort's voice was a low hiss. Harry's experience told him that the Dark Lord was trying to disguise his emotion, to keep his death eaters on their toes. "We are all here."

"Uh oh," thought Harry. "Snape's in for it now."

"Crucio!"

Voldemort spun around without warning and hit Snape in the chest with his curse. The potions master fell backwards, then somehow managed to get on his knees and prostrate himself before his 'master.'

The slight pain in Harry's scar stopped. Snape scrambled up, breathing heavily, his black hair in disarray.

"You fool!" said Voldemort, in something less and yet more than a shout. "How could you let them flout the ministry guidelines?"

"M-m-my lord-d?" Snape was still recovering from the cruciatus curse.

"Don't talk like that useless Professor What's-his-name," he snapped. "It was one more reason for me to let him die."

"Sorry, my lord."

"My ministry contact has informed me of the Hogwarts issue," he continued, as if nothing had happened. He snapped his fingers, and a tall death eater stepped forward. Even his mask was completely hidden by his black hood.

"Hogwarts has elected to make its own rules, and abide no longer by the ones I have enforced in the Ministry," said the figure, his voice clipped and military, as one used to being a servant. This was a new addition to the circle; Harry didn't recognize him from previous visits.

"And, as you know," continued Voldemort in a smooth and silky voice, "I reward only those who serve me well."

The land about was lit up with orange light from the cruciatus curse. Snape fell forward to his hands and knees, and then looked up, straight in to Harry's eyes. The expression on his face was one of pain and hatred, and as Harry faded away the black eyes bored deeper and deeper into his own green ones, stripping away layer upon layer of his defenses until the real Harry lay quivering under the professor's heartless gaze. Then everything went white.

Someone was calling his name softly. "Harry. Harry."

He blinked and the world came into focus. Mrs. Weasley was standing over him, the Dursleys a few paces behind. "Harry, wake up."

From the look on her face he could only guess that he had been somehow reacting to his dream; perhaps moaning or thrashing about. He sat up and readjusted his glasses, which had been hanging from his nose.

"Are you ready to go?" Aunt Petunia asked urgently.

"Yes."

"Come on, dear," said Mrs. Weasley kindly. "Floo powder again; I know you don't like it, but it really is the best way to travel."

The witch and the wizard disappeared into the emerald flames. Uncle Vernon quickly put the fire out, then motioned to Dudley and Aunt Petunia. Together they boarded the fireplace closed, three boards thick. Then Dudley collapsed into a chair, both exhausted from the work and relieved that Harry was gone, and this time for good.