Chapter Four
Dudley Dursley resented the task he had been given. He was supposed to give Harry his dinner, which he supposed he despised and liked at the same time, given the very nature of the work. He resented his parents telling him to do anything, because he was a big boy who didn't have to be bossed around. He also despised work of any sort, as work often required the effort of moving his bulk across the house. He was happiest when his big bottom was planted firmly before the telly he played his playstation on.
On the other hand, most of this was easily outweighed with the favor of tormenting Harry. In some ways, Dudley supposed he missed Harry whenever he was off at that school for freaks and rejects of society (those weirdoes with the red hair who always kept popping up to take Harry away were definitely rejects of society, Dudley was absolutely positive of that). But the only reason Dudley could possibly think of why he missed Harry was because, admittedly, Dudley couldn't find anyone else whom he could thrash but wasn't allowed to fight back.
With these oh-so very generous thoughts firmly in his mind, Dudley unlocked Harry's bedroom door and pushed it open hard enough to slam against its hinges. And who said Dudley's being big boned was ridiculous? If he were a skinny nerd like Harry, he wouldn't be able to push so hard against things.
"Here's your food, Harry," Dudley said in what he thought to be a superior voice. He threw down the plate of rice and chicken on the floor. Most of the food was gone because he was hungry and Mum still had him on the diet. She said he needed "lean proteins" and "complex carbs," whatever that was. As far as Dudley was concerned, food was food, and Harry didn't need nearly as much him. After all, Dudley was still a growing boy (even if most people suspected the growing was sideways), and he needed to keep his strength up and all to do things like push heavily against doors. Thankfully, Mum gave him the good stuff--grease and sugar--every now and then, because Dudley had whined of how if he only had a little bit now and then, he wouldn't be so inclined to cheat so often.
Harry slowly looked up from the book he was reading. Dudley glanced quickly at the title and was chilled when he read, 1001 Blasting Curses. He shivered, and then pretended he wasn't scared of Harry at all. Harry glanced at the plate of food, and immediately went back to reading. Dudley felt his face burn when he realized that Harry was ignoring him.
"What are you even reading?" Dudley demanded loudly as he waded into the room. "You aren't allowed to do that mumbo-jumbo in this house." Harry continued to ignore him. "I'm going to tell Dad!" Harry continued to ignore him, and Dudley felt the urge to thump Harry. He took a step forward to snatch the book of out Harry's hands, and that caught Harry's attention.
Harry slowly turned to stare at Dudley. His green eyes looked rather blank, but Dudley's attention was distracted by Harry's calmly raising his wand to point it at Dudley. "You--You can't do that!" Dudley squeaked and jumped backwards as Harry, still slowly and calmly, stood up. Harry's wand emitted a few sparks, and Dudley turned tail and ran out of the room as quickly as he could, his hands planted firmly across his backside to protect it from any spells Harry was going to throw at him.
It was quite dark by the time Harry reached Privet Drive. He hadn't suspected that his heavy knapsack would slow him down that much, but the awkward weight of the knapsack on his back upset his balance and he didn't want to fly at neck-breaking speeds.
The lights were on in the house, and Uncle Vernon's old Ford was parked in the driveway. Harry winced and tried to quell the quick rising of panic inside of him. He hoped desperately that the dummy had maintained its role.
Harry used his skeleton key to open the back door, and he entered the house into the kitchen. Just as he entered , he heard a deafening, gargled scream and then a resounding crash. In his haste to scramble quickly down the stairs, Dudley had tripped and tumbled down the steps to crash into Aunt Petunia's favorite crystal vase at the base of the stairs.
Dudley managed to focus his eyes at his parents as they loomed above him. "He-he attacked me with his wand!" Dudley was stuttering close to tears as he pointed a thick finger up the stairs. Harry, still wrapped in his invisibility cloak, peered around the corner of the kitchen to the base of the stairs where Dudley lay flat on his back.
Uncle Vernon growled lowly. "That kid's a liability. Always was, but I'll not keep him in this house for long," he muttered darkly. "Why the hell did we even take him in the first place?" It was a rhetorical question, but Aunt Petunia answered it anyway.
"Because Lily put the house in the brat's name," she said with a twisted, sour expression. "I wouldn't have tolerated him in the first place if Mother hadn't granted all her property to the family freak."
Harry made a fist and bit his knuckles as red-hot anger flashed through him. How dare they . . .
Uncle Vernon was silent for a moment as he stared down at Dudley, and then he smiled menacingly. He bent over and helped Dudley to his feet. "We'll just have to think of some way to dispose of him quietly then." Aunt Petunia gasped in shock. He gave her a warning look. "Do you want to be indebted to that boy for the rest of his life?" he asked. "Actually, we are, but we can shorten that debt rather, ah, drastically." She pressed her thin lips together, and then shook her head. Uncle Vernon nodded his head. "I thought so. Come. I know what I'm going to do when the right opportunity comes along." The three relatives walked away from the stairs, into the family room. Harry tightened his grip on his knapsack and broom, and made his way up the stairs.
Once his initial anger wore off, the knowledge that his relatives hated him--hated him and wanted to kill him like Voldemort--sent Harry's thoughts awhirl. Wasn't it enough that he already had the most powerful dark lord currently in existence after his hide without his family--albeit certainly a family that had never really been a family to Harry, but still!--trying to kill him as well?
Harry entered his room and set his knapsack down in the corner. After deflating the dummy, he curled up in the darkest corner of the room to brood. His thoughts kept returning to the conversation between the Dursleys, and though his chest hurt and he felt betrayed, Harry mulled over the thoughts. In some ways, it explained why the Dursleys had stayed with him for so long, and that hurt the most. In some deep, dark corner of his heart, Harry secretly hoped that perhaps the Dursleys, if for nothing else, felt sorry for Harry's loss of family and had decided to take him in because blood was thicker than water.
But, no, that wasn't it. Harry was the owner of the property. They hadn't had a choice of sending him away to a foster home. Harry wasn't a person to them. He was just a name on the piece of paper that said his house was his. Harry was a thing to be used and disposed of.
Tears welled up in his eyes and fell down his face. A true family that loved and cared for you wouldn't do "dispose" of you. The Dursleys obviously didn't think of him as family. No one did, with the exception of the Weasleys, and maybe even Hermione.
If nothing else, Voldemort didn't think Harry was a thing. Oh, Harry most certainly needed to be destroyed because he was a living reminder of Voldemort's vulnerability, but even Voldemort thought and knew Harry to be a person. That was what made Voldemort's revenge so personal.
For a single dark moment, Harry hoped fervently that Voldemort would try attacking 4 Privet Drive, if only to kill the Dursleys. The quick, burning need for revenge swiftly followed the thought before rationale finally set in.
The Dursleys, no matter how bad or how awful they were, were still human.
Still, that didn't excuse them for anything!
Dumbledore would know what to do. Harry had a fair idea that Dumbledore would not be very happy with the Dursleys in the least, and could probably come up with a more appropriate course of action that slaughtering them like animals, as Voldemort would surely do. Harry stalked over to his bed, yanked a sheet of paper free from a notebook, and hastily scribbled his letter to Dumbledore on it.
Dear Professor Dumbledore:
I don't want to seem troublesome, but I feel there are some things going on here that you should know. The Dursleys are such wretched persons!
Harry poured his heart out on the paper, outlining the conversation he had overheard. His frustration were scattered among the words, along with his worries, the dream he had of Voldemort, and how his scar hurt. He carefully left out all notice of how he had even left the house for the day. Harry finished the letter with a plea to meet with Dumbledore at some time.
And I hope that Snuffles, Hagrid, and everyone else is all right.
Yours Truly,
Harry J. Potter.
Professor Albus Dumblore paced about in his circular room. It was easy to pace in a room like this. It was so round and even, but pacing too long often resulted in dizziness. The wind that blew in through the open window ruffled his flowing white beard. Pacing was often a good sign of worry, and Dumbledore was a worried man.
The reports the spies of the Order were, in a word, worrying. After a few moments more of pacing, Dumbledore sat at his desk before dizziness set in. He dipped some of his thoughts in the swirling pensieve and watched the silver liquid. He sighed and stirred it with the tip of his wand.
Hedwig came flapping in through the open window and dropped Harry's letter on the table beside Dumbledore. With a small hoot, she perched herself besides Fawkes the phoenix, who did not seem affronted in the least by an owl's company.
Dumbledore opened the letter and read it. He sat for a moment in silence as he stared at the letter with no small amount of horror. He jumped to his feet much quicker then anyone his age should be capable of doing, and hurried over to his fireplace. He pointed his wand at the fireplace and lit it without a single wave and word. Immediately he summoned Severus Snape.
Snape's head bobbed in the flames, his dark eyes brooding and his face puffy from sleep. "What ever it is, I doubt very much it's going to wait until morning if you insist upon dragging me from my beauty sleep this early."
As serious as Harry's letter had been, Dumbledore still managed to summon a smile. "My dear boy," he said buoyantly, "both of us are well past the point where beauty sleep is going to make a difference."
Snape gave him a look that would have set ice on fire, but he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Very well; what is it?"
Somewhere in the main hall, the grandfather clock rang 3 'o clock.
Dumbledore's voice became firm and clear with authority. "This is very urgent. Call a meeting of the members of the Order. Have all of them come to the room. I wish to speak with all of you on an important matter."
Snape nodded his head tersely, and then withdrew from the fire.
His robe billowing behind him, Severus Snape entered Dumbledore's office. "What's the matter?" he asked immediately upon entering the room. Snape straightened his back ramrod stiff and refused to sit when offered a chair. Dumbledore looked at him over the rim of his glasses.
"Matters, Severus," he said. "But before I speak to the other members of the Order, I wish to know something from you. Do you have any news of Voldemort's plans? I have been getting reports of something big being afoot. There are whispered everywhere that he is becoming more powerful than before. The random Muggle killings are spaced too apart. I know Voldemort well, and he was never one to sit idle. It reminds me of the lull before the storm."
Snape's lips pressed tightly together as he stared at the corner of the room. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. "After the Order was called back," he said carefully, "I went back and paid my allegiance to Voldemort, as I'd been bidden to. Voldemort seemed quite averse to accepting my excuses, so I'm no longer part of the inner circle now. He does not discuss plans with low lackies such as myself. However, from what I gathered from other Death Eaters--most who are higher up and I still have connections with--the rumors appear to be correct. Voldemort has been away often, an each time he returns his dark power seems to have increased. There are new Death eaters, but their identities are kept secret."
Snape gathered folds of his back robes into handfuls and took several steps closer to where Dumbledore was seated in a large, ornately carved wooden chair. He dropped the robes and folded his hands before his sternum. His shoulders drooped wearily. "I have been told to recruit fresh Death Eaters from the students in Hogwarts. I am to sacrifice them as token of my allegiance to Voldemort." Snape rubbed his eyes. "They are my ticket into the inner circle," he said in a low whisper.
Dumbledore wilted in his fluffy blue bathrobe. "I see," he said sadly. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin onto his chest. After a few minutes of silence, where Snape spent his time wondering if he should shake Dumbledore to see if he were asleep, Dumbledore opened his eyes and stood up. "When is the meeting?" he asked cheerfully, as if nothing of the pervious discussion affected him.
Snape withdrew a pocket watch and glanced at its face. "Within a quarter-hour," he said. "I had to give the members some time to get ready." He snorted. "I'm sure we'll all be grateful they'll show up in something presentable. I suspect some of them sleep on the nude." He muttered something about how people did not have the courtesy to look decent when answering calls in the middle of the night.
Dumbledore waved his hand and a picture of one of the school's former headmasters disappeared to reveal a doorway. He and Snape entered the room. Standing at its threshold, Dumbledore waved again, and a long table surrounded by chairs appeared. He gathered up the hem of his bathrobe and walked over to the head of the table. Snape took a seat on the opposite side of Dumbledore, several seats to the headmaster's left.
On by one, ghost-like forms shimmered into existence at individual seats. They were transparent and as much substance as a ghost of wind, but their presence was solid. A few forms nodded their heads in greeting to one another. Remus Lupin and Sirius were two of them, and they were too bright and cheerful for such an unpleasantly early hour. Rubeus Hagrid rubbed his eyes tiredly and tightened his grip on the gigantic blanket wrapped around his body. Mr Ollivander, with a nightcap on his white hair and still wearing his nightgown, was sipping a ghostly cup of coffee. Also present among people Snape and Dumbledore were familiar with was a ghastly-pale vampire with wispy blonde hair named Vallitus, a balding dwarf named Durkworth whose skin looked at rough as leather, an Elf with amber-colored eyes and silvery-blonde hair whose name was Fleetfoot, and two men who wore pure white robes. These two men, of average height and similar lean builds, were indistinguishable as their hoods were drawn over their heads and threw deep shadows over their face.
Fawkes fluttered into the room and perched on the shoulder of Dumbledore. Dumbledore scratched the top of the phoenix's head as he glanced over his visitors. "Fellow members of the Order," he said solemnly, "you all know I would not have called you here if it were not for some changes that must force us to postpone some of our plans, and drastically change others. There are reports that Voldemort is getting more powerful, and there seems to be some unknown activity afoot that we need to give careful consideration to. However, the most important subject is Harry.
"I have just within this hour received a letter from Harry that only seem to confirm suspicions of the previously mentioned activity. What makes this sudden meeting so urgent is Harry has learned that he owns 4 privet Drive, and the Dursleys are adopting threatening positions to rectify that. We must make a decision on a course of action for this as soon as possible.
"In other news, Fudge is still helpless, hopeless, and useless; he still refuses to acknowledge Voldemort, and his actions only tend to distract and trouble us. In other words, nothing has changed. While we are all here, I would like to know the status with everyone else." He looked over his half-moon glasses at the others.
Hagrid stood up first. "The giants 'ave agreed to 'elp," he said. "All of this is thanks to the efforts of Fridwulfa and Madame Maxime. But they want a Giant Kingdom on the outskirts of France next to the Elf's Kingdom. The giants, that is."
Dumbledore tapped one finger against the table's surface. "Hmmm. That may be arranged. I'll have to speak to Minister Delcour first."
As Hagrid sat down, Fleetfoot stood up. "The Elves, warriors of the light, also stand with you, Grandmaster. However, we do wish something be done for the safety of our kingdom against the dark forces."
Dumbledore scratched his chin. "Did you have anything in mind?"
Fleetfoot spread his hands wide in a deferential motion. "I am merely a messenger. Someone who has the ability to make decisions will speak to you."
Dumbledore nodded. Fleetfoot sat down, and Duckworth moved. He stood up, but the chair he had sat down was low enough to show little difference in his height between sitting and standing. "The Dwarves are also with you," he said in the loud, gruff voice common of the Dwarves. "But there are some of us who cannot be trusted. Spies who penetrated our ranks, and the dark lord is giving us jewels, metals, and other riches of the underworld." He rubbed his mouth through his bread. "The majority of us shall back the Order," he finished before he sat down.
Dumbledore nodded.
"Alas!" said Vallitus with a smooth flourish. He remained seated instead of standing as the others had. "The same cannot be said for we vampires. Like werewolves, we are natural allies of the Dark, and many of the youngest--those who have only seen fifty years of less--have changed sides because they have not yet gained control and perception of their own personal darkness. But we who are older and well remember the treachery of Grindlewald and then Voldemort, shall always support the Order."
"Like the werewolves?" Dumbledore turned to Lupin for clarification of this. Lupin shrugged helplessly. Because the full moon had just been two days ago, he looked ragged and harassed, but there was a bright spark of energy in his eyes and he did not droop tiredly.
"Werewolves are solitary creatures--as a rule, werewolves don't like fellow werewolves, but I still managed to talk little more than two dozen into our cause who we know for sure won't change their minds."
Sirius, without being called upon, jumped in next. "I contacted as much as some of the old group as possible. Some were dead, some--well, okay, lots--I rather suspected would've readily send me back to Azkaban." Here, Sirius shot a quick glare at the direction of Snape. "Some of those believe Fudge, so they're a last resort. I've gotten Mad-Eye Moody to recruit some of the new Aurors for our cause."
"Any news from the Ministry, Mister Croaker?" Dumbledore asked.
"Fudge has sent the spies on the wild goose chase for finding robbers. He dismisses any suggestions or reports of dark activity. There are also signs he is wasting ministry money on personal whims; he intends to build a monument commemorating his five years in office," Croaker replied.
"Ah. Is there anything anyone wishes to add?" Dumbledore looked about expectedly, but no one spoke up. "Very well. We will have to postpone our plans. Harry's training will also have to commence in the summer itself." He turned to the men in which robes who had remained silent all through the conference.
The man bobbed. "Jadushala awaits his arrival," he said, his voice like a faint, whispery echo. "Harry Potter will be taught our secrets in the course of realizing his potential and harnessing his energy."
Dumbledore nodded his head. He stood up and placed his hands, palm flat, on the table. "We need new recruits. For the Order to fight the dark lord on equal terms, we must recruit the youth. Voldemort is trying to do the same, so we must snatch up those persons before he can get to them. Unless something else arises, we shall meet in a month's time."
One by one, the ghost-like shadows. Some went silently, such as the men in white and the Elf and the Vampire, but the Dwarf and Dumbledore's former students bade him a good evening.
Far away, in 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter was completely unaware of how a group of Europe's strongest magic-wielders was discussing his fate and future. At the moment, he was engrossed in his own work. How to Become an Animagus: Do you have it in you? lay open before him as he tried to decipher his ability to transform into an animal.