AN: Hey, it's 2004! Guess what? Last Friday was my one-year anniversary with FanFiction.Net! Last year on January 2, 2003 I put in a Google search for Inuyasha fanfiction and found this fabulous (and sometimes difficult -_-) website. *Sigh* memories…
I'm also in a good mood because I got a Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King 2004 calendar, and not only is Legolas on my month (again!), but he's on two other ones. Mmm… sorry, here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long, but I couldn't get on the computer at all. Enjoy! (If anyone's actually reading this, that is ^_^;)
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Harry needed a plan.
From what he gathered from his dream (though vision seemed to be a better word), his prophecy predicament was not only repeated history, but documented as well in the Tome of Truth. But by whom? Maybe these Guardian people wrote down the lives of their charges; or perhaps the Tome itself recorded it magically. In either case, judging by the sheer enormity of the volume, it either went into great detail on the long lives of its subjects or else there were dozens of heroes whose lives were cut terribly short. Harry sincerely hoped with all his might it was the former, as he suspected he was the Tome's most recent entry.
Even if many others before him had been defeated by their fates, he still needed that book so he could find out what they had done wrong. That's exactly what Hermione had said of her O.W.L.s, Harry remembered, to study from the mistakes in order to do better the next time. He'd have to thank her for the idea sometime later, though, as he had to find that book.
Where would a centuries-old, several thousand pages-long book be now? Harry searched his limited knowledge of wizarding world geography, and unsurprisingly turned up nothing. He certainly didn't think it would turn up at Flourish and Blotts or the Hogwarts library. Hermione would have found it years ago if that were the case, thought Harry wryly. What he needed to find was a place that no one else but the others that he'd dreamed about had been to. That did seem safer than passing it around to each person, and surely a book that important would not be kept at any public library! But his dream had not yielded any such information; he had no idea where any of the dream scenes had taken place.
Harry was startled from his reverie by three rapid knocks on his bedroom door. Aunt Petunia's sharp voice was slightly muffled by the door. "Come on, you…er, Potter! Wake up already and make your breakfast."
The Dursleys had been walking on eggshells around Harry ever since that day at King's Cross. They weren't so much afraid of what the fully trained Aurors would do to them if they mistreated Harry, as they were of how abnormal it would look to the neighbors if several wizards suddenly appeared on their property. They had stopped forcing Harry to make their meals, preferring instead to further isolate him by having him make his own. This kept the Dursleys happy because they still had a measure of control over Harry, and he was happy because he no longer had to eat only what was given him.
Harry slowly got out from under the covers and changed into a pair of khaki pants and a striped T-shirt, bought and paid for by Aunt Petunia, fresh from the second-hand store. Oh well, thought Harry, at least these actually fit and look decent. Yes, the Dursleys were doing everything they could to keep the "freaks" away, and things had never been better for Harry at Privet Drive.
Harry made his way downstairs and into the kitchen to find the other residents of number four already sitting down to breakfast. Aunt Petunia usually called him late so that she and the Dursley men wouldn't have to endure Harry's presence for too long, while still being able to honestly say that he sat down with them for meals.
While he busied himself preparing toast and eggs, Harry noticed his relatives giving each other meaningful glances, as if they were debating something without the use of words. Uncle Vernon seemed to be very bitter about something, and Dudley was glaring half-heartedly at his parents. That's odd, thought Harry; Dudley doesn't seem to be putting his heart into his temper today. He only raised an eyebrow at his family's behavior and turned around to the cabinet to get a plate for his food. He was just reaching for a glass for his orange juice when Uncle Vernon spoke gruffly.
"Happy birthday, boy - ouch, Petunia! - I mean, Harry," he amended after a loud thump sounded from beneath the kitchen table.
Harry had only just managed to keep his glass from falling to the floor; his eyes were almost popping out of his head as he spun around to face the Dursleys, who were looking apprehensive (and sick, in Uncle Vernon's case). As quickly as they had widened, his eyes narrowed into wary slits.
"What are you playing at?" he demanded fiercely.
"Why, n-n-nothing, of course," Aunt Petunia began timidly, then continued defensively, "Can't your family wish you well on your birthday?"
"Not you people, no," Harry stated, not with any ferocity, only as a bare and simple fact. "Since when have you cared about my birthday? I bet you didn't even know it was today. I mean, I didn't even know it was today until I saw my birth certificate when I began school."
"Well, w-we thought what b-better time to start than now," Aunt Petunia clarified. "You know, sixteen, it's a big year," she went on with a terrified smile that made her look like she was about to cry. "You can s-spend the day with Dudley," another sharp thump was heard before Dudley could complain, "and y-your presents are on the counter, j-just over there, H-Harry."
Harry's eyes followed her gesturing hand to the counter along the far side of the kitchen, under the windows. On it lay five festively wrapped birthday presents. "Those are - mine?" he inquired softly.
"Yes," Aunt Petunia breathed in relief, "they're all yours."
Harry didn't know what to do, or even how he felt about the whole thing. He had never gotten any gifts from the Dursleys, save some old socks of Uncle Vernon's and bits of garbage (though there was that Christmas in his first year at Hogwarts when he got a fifty-pence piece). And he'd always wished when he was younger that they would celebrate his birthday like this, with gifts and special activities and the like; but they'd never even mentioned it before today. He'd always wanted a celebration - but not one so forced and insincere. Suddenly Harry knew how he felt.
"I don't want them," he said, turning back to his relatives.
The Dursleys looked bemused. Harry could tell Uncle Vernon was getting angry and continued with his explanation quickly to pacify the coming tirade.
"It's not that I don't appreciate them. I mean, thank you and all," he said awkwardly, not being used to thanking them for anything, "but I don't want them. I don't want something you got for me just because you're afraid I'll tell the Order that you've been mistreating me if you hadn't. There's nothing in those boxes that could help me, anyway," he ended quietly, getting an eerie, far-off look in his eyes.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other, and then simultaneously looked to Dudley, who quickly replaced his fallen scowl and shook his head fiercely. Aunt Petunia gave him an unusually stern glare previously reserved for Harry, and Dudley acquiesced rather quickly. "Well," she began, calling Harry back from whatever planet he'd been on, "you can still spend some time with Dudley. He did give up a day with his friends to be here, you know."
Harry fixed his still slightly eerie gaze onto his glaring cousin and raised an eyebrow. Well, it was his birthday; maybe he could have some fun with old Dudders. He did still need to open the gift from the Weasley twins….
When Harry smirked, Dudley's glare disappeared. He looked to his mother to silently plead for freedom one last time, but she only looked even more sternly upon her son. He tried to beg his father for help, but Vernon had turned back to his newspaper. He stared dejectedly at his empty breakfast plate while he waited for Harry to finish his now lukewarm food. As Harry watched him out of his peripheral vision, he noticed that Dudley seemed to be thinking about something. He apparently reached a decision as a look of grim determination crossed his face.
The sound of Harry's voice made Dudley jump.
"Well, c'mon Big D, we've got loads to do today." Harry waited by the front hall for Dudley to catch up, wondering what his cousin might have been thinking about at the table. Did it have to do with him, Harry? What had ever given Dudley cause to think?
Dudley finally made it to where Harry was standing, pouting angrily like a small child. "Let's go Dudders, I only get one birthday a year," he said, heading towards the front door.
"You mean you want to go outside?" asked Dudley, sounding horrified.
"Of course I do - it's a beautiful day, you know."
"But - but - there are people out there!"
"You don't say? Do tell, and point them out if you see any; I've never seen a person before."
Dudley flushed angrily. "You know what I mean! People will see you, with me!"
"Well I should hope so. We wouldn't want them bumping into us, would we?"
"You - let's just go!" Dudley seethed, throwing the door open.
"An excellent idea, Big D. I see now why they made you the gang leader," Harry finished with a smile as he walked calmly past Dudley, who clenched his fists in anger as he realized he'd just held the door open for his cousin.
As they made their way to the sidewalk, Harry glanced furtively around the garden for any sign that an Order member was following him. He doubted he would find any, as they probably had Silencing Charms and Invisibility Cloaks. Or Disillusionment Charms more likely, as Invisibility Cloaks were rare and expensive.
"Where are we going?" mumbled Dudley, obviously miffed that he had to ask.
"Not far," replied Harry.
"And just where exactly is 'not far'?" Dudley sneered.
"Just up your arse and around the corner."
"Oh come on, how old was that?"
"Well, how old are you?"
"Shut it, I meant your comeback!"
"I made a comeback? I didn't know I'd left. In fact, I didn't know I was even there to begin with. Was I a washed-up actor or something? Or was I a singer? Was I fam-?"
Harry's acerbic comment died on the word "famous". No matter how he enjoyed taunting Dudley, he could not joke about his fame in the wizarding world. It had caused him so much trouble, and had cost him so much more. He couldn't bring himself to make light of the subject- even to Dudley, who had no idea about it at all.
Dudley, for his part, had noticed Harry's sudden silence and frowned. Well, thought Harry, maybe he's not as thick as concrete. He sighed and increased his pace, succeeding in both breaking eye contact and avoiding the subject - or so he thought.
"What's the matter with you?" Dudley asked as he caught up to his cousin.
Harry, not bothering to turn his head, glanced sideways at him. "What are you on about?"
"Right back there! You just stop in the middle of our argument, and then shut up like I'd told you to. Since when have you ever done what I tell you?"
Harry paused in his march and looked at Dudley for a moment before turning his head away once more and continuing onward. "Why do you care?" he asked.
"I don't! I just-I was just wondering, well-that is to say, I was curious about-er-"
"Hey listen-when you feel like getting to the point, let me know. I'll be in the nursing home, so you can send me a letter but my eyesight may be gone by then."
Dudley actually paused to gather his thoughts (however few they may be, thought Harry). He took a deep breath and said, "Can we go somewhere else? Like not out here?"
"Why?" Harry asked. "Afraid of these mysterious people you keep going on about?"
"Yes, actually, now let's go," and with that he grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him down the street. Harry, who was staring incredulously at his cousin, let him, uncaring as to where they were going.
As it turned out, they were headed to the park. When Harry looked through the fence, he saw that there were several little kids playing inside of it, and mentioned it to Dudley. "Not for long," was his only reply. Harry understood his cryptic words as soon as they entered the park; the nearest child caught sight of them, gasped, ran to his friend (who also gasped at the sight of the two number four residents), and then the both of them scrambled past the gate as fast as they could. During their mad dash they had caught the attention of the other children in the park, who quickly proceeded to follow their example. In just under a minute, the play park was empty.
"Wow, Big D, you must get around," Harry observed dryly.
"It wasn't just me, you know. Or did you forget that you go to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys?" Dudley reminded Harry smugly.
Harry, who had indeed forgotten that that was Uncle Vernon's way of explaining Harry's absences (during which he was actually attending Hogwarts) to the neighbors, quickly said, "I'm surprised you can remember such a long string of big words, Dudley."
"Well, after hearing Dad say it so many times to the neigh- hey! Shut your mouth, Potter! I brought you here so we could talk without anyone overhearing us!"
"Well, if you keep yelling like that you would have gone to all this trouble for nothing, wouldn't you?"
"Would you be quiet already?"
"Practice what you preach, Dudders."
Dudley only crossed his arms and sat down on the nearest bench with a great "Humph!" in reply. Harry sighed in resignation and sat down on the same bench, though as far away as possible. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked.
Dudley appeared to be getting flustered again, but took a deep breath and seemed to focus. It was the exact opposite as back in the street, as he was now speaking slowly and stopping to think instead of babbling nervously.
"Last summer…that night we were heading home together…when those w-w-wiz…"
"Wizard?" Harry supplied flatly.
"Wiz-ard guards…those dementoids-"
"Dementors," Harry corrected.
"Yeah, dementors…when they came for you and…they made it cold…."
Harry watched as Dudley gestured to his chest, and he remembered the plunging cold feeling elicited by dementors. He feared just what he would see and hear if one came close to him now; he had so many terrible events to relive. Harry shook himself out of those thoughts and looked back at Dudley, who had been watching him, much to Harry's displeasure. Dudley quickly averted his gaze and continued.
"You- well, you made them go away somehow…."
"I thought you said it was me who made it 'go cold', and put all those voices in your head," Harry said harshly.
"I know, I know I said that to Mum and Dad, but…I got to thinking after that day-and save it, I'm trying to ask you something," for Harry had looked skeptical at the mention of Dudley thinking. Harry gestured for his cousin to go on. "Anyway, I got to thinking about what had happened, and how even Mum knew about the dementors. I knew then that they had to be real, and that you had to have made them go away somehow. But they were so, so powerful, I couldn't even move…and you made them go away…and I…I just wondered-how you…"
"How I made the dementors go away?" Harry inquired slowly, eyes widening. That a Dursley, Dudley especially, who'd had several magical accidents already, could ever be interested in learning about magic was simply mind-boggling. Dudley looked down at the ground as though it were the most interesting thing in the world, and nodded silently.
When Harry was finally able to get sounds out of his gaping mouth, he stumbled around his answer. "W-wow. Dudley-are you-are you sure you want to know this? I mean, you hate magic-see?" for Dudley had cringed as the dreaded "M-word" passed through Harry's lips.
"I-I want to know. Yes. I want to know what Mum and Dad are so scared of. I …I can't exactly bring it up with them, you know," said Dudley.
"That's an understatement," Harry muttered sarcastically.
"Yeah," Dudley said softly, with a grimace. "You're the only person I can ask, obviously."
"Actually, I'm not," said Harry, finally sensing a way to begin this difficult conversation.
"What are you talking about?" asked Dudley. "You've seen how my parents act if you mention you-know-what."
"First of all, I won't tell you anything unless you can say it, Dudley."
"S-say what?" asked Dudley, growing uneasy.
"Come on, Big D. Don't you know that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself? Now, repeat after me-"
"Potter, I'm not doing this stupid-"
"Just do it, or I won't tell you a thing. And then maybe I'll just mosey on back to the house and casually mention this little conversation here to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia," Harry said, smirking.
"No! You can't do that, Potter!"
"Then repeat after me: magic."
Dudley looked pleadingly at his cousin, then quickly looked around to check that they were alone. He fixed his gaze on the ground once more, and then whispered, "M-ma-gic."
"Magic," Harry repeated, more forcefully then before.
Dudley cleared his throat as if preparing it for the forbidden word, then said quietly but firmly, "Magic."
"Wizard," said Harry.
"W-w-wiz…wizard," Dudley finally managed.
"Witch."
Dudley had much less trouble with this one, for some reason. He's probably insulted several women with it before, thought Harry. He gave one more for his cousin to try. "Squib."
"Squib?" Dudley questioned. "What's that?"
"It's more of a 'who' question, Dudley. Mrs. Figg is one, you know," said Harry.
"Mrs. Figg is a…a ma-gi-cal…person?" asked Dudley, completely taken aback.
"Actually, not quite," Harry continued. "There are four types of magical people, you see: purebloods, half bloods, Muggle-borns, and Squibs."
"What are all those?" asked Dudley, looking confused.
"First you need to know what Muggles are. We call nonmagic people, like you and your parents, Muggles. A pureblooded wizard doesn't have a single drop of Muggle blood in him, and is born into the magical world to magical parents. A Muggle-born is a witch or wizard born into a Muggle family, like my Mum."
Dudley looked uncomfortable at the mention of his late aunt, but Harry didn't care, and continued. "A half blood is a wizard or witch born to at least one part-Muggle parent. That would be what I am. And a Squib is born into a wizard family, but with no powers-Mrs. Figg."
"Mrs. Figg knows about all this rubbish?" said Dudley, unthinking in his shock.
"Magic," said Harry defensively, glaring at his cousin, "is not rubbish. It saved your sorry hide that day last summer, didn't it? Or have you already forgotten why you're asking me these questions in the first place?"
"Alright, alright. It's not rubbish. But then why…" Dudley trailed off, hesitant to ask his next question.
"Why what?" said Harry, growing impatient, though this did little to get the words out of his cousin. "Come on, Dudley, there are only," he paused to glance at his new watch, "thirteen hours left of my birthday. I have a date with my white walls, you know. Don't want to be late!"
Harry could tell he was grating on Dudley's last nerves, which was the desired effect. He was sure that this was the only way to get his cousin to spit it out. Sure enough, the question came forth (though with more force than necessary).
"What happened to you over there? Over in the m-magical world? Every year you come back moodier than the last; this year especially. And who is Cedric, anyhow? And Sirius? And why do you keep dreaming about them? And what-"
"Stop," Harry whispered. Dudley, who had turned away slightly while asking his stream of unknowingly painful questions, now looked back at his cousin. His eyes grew wide when he saw Harry's face contorted with pain, his eyes unusually bright.
"Harry?"
"Shut up," Harry hissed slowly. He continued in a fierce whisper that seemed to frighten Dudley more than any shouting could have. "You have no right to ask me that. You have no right! After everything you've done to me, everything you had others do to me-you think you can ask me that? I hate you, remember? You hate me. You've always done everything you could to make my life hell, and I will not- ever- confide in you about my horrible life!"
Harry shot up from the bench and strode over to the park gate without looking back once, hiding his brimming eyes from his cousin. He was breathing heavily from the painful memories currently flooding his mind, and he fought to keep from stumbling under the waves of guilt and grief that prevented any coherent thought.
"Hey, it's ickle Harry-kins," an obnoxious, derisive voice called out. Harry stopped and turned his head slightly to the side and saw Dudley's gang, bereft of their leader. Piers had spoken.
"What's little baby Potter doing out here all alone?" he asked in a mock-baby voice-which was the exact wrong thing to say.
"Aaaaaah…did you love him, little baby Potter?"
Bellatrix Lestrange's voice rang through Harry's head, and suddenly images of the Department of Mysteries flashed before his eyes. All of his emotions-his sorrow, guilt, rage-swelled inside of him, building up an immense power he'd never felt before. He barely had sense enough left to register the odd, cooling feeling in his scar. The boys, who had surrounded Harry when he'd stopped, all shot back with their eyes wide.
"W-what the hell are you doing?" Piers managed to stutter out of his fright. Harry barely heard him as the power suddenly released. His vision, now devoid of any painful memories, darkened, and Harry knew no more.
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AN: I know, weird place to stop, but I had to get this out while I could. I had to restart my computer four times in barely forty minutes while I was editing, and I can't put in certain punctuation symbols for some reason -_-*
Aww, no reviews this time. Oh well. Thanks to the few of you who have reviewed before, you kept me going even at two in the morning (and with a sprained wrist)! Just so you know, I may not be able to update for a little while. My school's currently in Dead Week (dun dun dun! AAAAH! FINALS, NO!), and finals (AAAHH!) are next week. I'll probably be able to write a bit over the next week and a half, especially on the weekend, but the update will be a bit longer, I think.
Next time: (I should quit writing these 'next time' blurbs. I never seem to be sticking to my plans! Stupid tangents…oh well, I'll still try) Will Harry tell Dudders about life in the wizarding world? Will he actually get a plan?
