Birthday Surprises Chapter Three
Usual disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Please. Wish it were mine though. Ah, if only… Lolly, xxx.
Harry was taking a well-earned break when his Aunt knocked quietly on the door. "Harry? Can I come in?" Harry walked across and opened the door for her, knowing that she couldn't open it herself.
"Yeah." He said, closing the door behind her. She made her way across to the crib that stood beside Harry's bed, which he had ordered it the night before, deciding that they shouldn't sleep in a basket all summer long.
"Hello there." She cooed. "Have they been ok?"
"They've been fine - are all babies this well-behaved?"
"Goodness no." Aunt Petunia laughed. It was an alien sound to Harry. "You were a quiet baby - I remember your mother saying that you were a little angel. I remember I was jealous because Dudley was such a loud baby - there was always something he wanted. Of course, Vernon didn't know that I met up with Lily - he hated magic. I did too, I suppose, but she was still my sister, and she didn't use any magic in front of me. I met with her in London, until you were nearly nine months old. Then Lily told me that she and your father were taking you and going into hiding - she mentioned a prophecy then. I didn't hear from her again." Harry listened carefully as his Aunt talked of his mother. "When I read the letter that Professor Dumbledore had written, I thought that maybe Lily had died for a reason - maybe her death had done some good. But now he's back. And you've seen him."
"Several times." Harry muttered.
"What's he like? This You-Know-Who person."
"Voldemort. His name is Voldemort - you're not the only person that is scared of his name though. He's like something from your worst nightmare - only a million times worse. He is the heir of Slytherin - you know that Hogwarts had four founders, right? Did mum tell you about them? Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin?"
"Oh yes - your mother was a Gryffindor, yes? So was your father. What are you?"
"A Gryffindor. Anyway, Slytherin house is famous for churning out dark witches and wizards - not every Slytherin is bad, but a lot of them are. Anyway, Voldemort is the heir of Salazar Slytherin - which means that he is really quite powerful…..he's actually part Muggle. His father was a Muggle. Ironic, really, when you think that Slytherin didn't want Muggle-borns taught at Hogwarts. He grew up in an orphanage because his father didn't want to know about magic - any of this sound familiar at all?" Harry saw his Aunt shift nervously under his piercing gaze. "Basically, now he has a major grudge against anyone of Muggle of origin, as well as those that stand in his way - namely me."
"What happened to his father?"
"Voldemort killed him when he got out of Hogwarts." Harry saw his Aunt pale considerably, and felt a little bad for her. "Voldemort doesn't care who he kills - the more the better, as far as he's concerned. He's evil."
"What about you?"
"I'm at the top of his hit-list. It's very damaging to his ego, me still being around. I mean, I've survived him six times already. The prophecy says that I'm the only one who can get rid of Voldemort for good."
"Have you heard this prophecy?"
"Yes."
"Word for word?"
"Yes."
"Will you tell me it? I want to know why my sister was killed." Harry thought for a moment - the words of the prophecy were inscribed in his mind, but he hadn't spoken of it to anyone. He didn't want to think of it. Yet here was his Aunt, asking to know the reason behind her sister's death.
"I'll have to use magic." He warned.
"Why?"
"Because there are only a few people in the world who know the full prophecy - and Voldemort isn't one of them. I smashed the prophecy in fifth year, before he could get it. He only knows part of it. If anyone is eavesdropping….."
"All right." Petunia whispered. She waited as he murmured a spell, closing the window and the blinds, plunging them into darkness. He pointed his wand at the light switch and an orangey, artificial light filled the room. Harry stayed by the window, facing away from her. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion.
"The prophecy was made shortly before I was born - it wasn't certain that it applied to me - one of the boys in my classes could have been the One. Still….." Harry trailed off and sat down beside his Aunt, his eyes fixed on the cradle. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…..born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…..and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power that the Dark Lord knows not…..and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…..the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies." Harry recited from memory, the words burning his throat. "That's the prophecy. Voldemort only knows of the first part - he did not know that trying to kill me would backfire. He thought he was fulfilling the prophecy, but he was just setting the terms…..he chose me. He thought I was dangerous." Harry glanced at his Aunt to see a tear trickling from her eye. He didn't quite know what to do - faced with a crying baby, he knew just what to do, but a crying woman? Not a clue.
"I'm sorry. I just never…..what does it mean?"
"Basically, I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort - and in the end, it's either me or him. Murder or be murdered."
"It must be horrible - knowing that."
"I should be terrified. I should probably be dreading it…but I'm not. After everything, it'll be over. I know what I have to do. Just one more expectation."
"What's it like? Being you? I mean you're supposed to be famous."
"I am - to tell you the truth, it's awful. When Voldemort came back, no one believed me. I went from being a hero to being an attention-seeking brat. Friends that had known me since first year began to think I was mentally unstable. Then when everyone realised that I had been telling the truth all along, I was back to being hero. Everyone expects me to save the world - even those that don't know of the prophecy. I'm Harry Potter, I've done it once, and I'll do it again - properly this time. Won't they get a shock if I don't win?" Harry gave a small, bitter laugh, his eyes hard with scorn. "Basically, it sucks. But it's life, and I won't let Voldemort ruin it." Harry was shocked when his Aunt wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug - for the first time in his memory she was being affectionate.
"I have to go. There's dinner to cook - Vernon will be home soon." She sniffed.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked.
"I'll be fine."
"Do you want me to do the dinner? Magic would make it so much quicker - I promise not to poison Dudley or Uncle Vernon."
"I…ok. Just make sure that you don't."
"Right. Aunt Petunia?"
"Yes?"
"What was mum like?"
"She was…..the best sister anyone could have. Even if she was a witch. I never hated her, you know. I couldn't. She was too nice. She'd have loved to see you grow up - she'd be so proud of you."
"Thanks." Harry said quietly.
"Petunia, this is delicious." Vernon commented that night. Harry smirked as he ate his helping of shepherd's pie. He had learnt from Molly how to cook using magic, and was glad of it. Now he could cook both the magic way and the Muggle way - though there was no doubt as to which he preferred. "Thank you." Petunia said, winking at Harry when Vernon and Dudley weren't looking. Harry was still having trouble adjusting to this new Aunt Petunia, the one that was his Aunt rather than his prison warden.
"Potter! Help your Aunt with the dishes, you ungrateful little runt!" His Uncle bellowed. Harry rolled his eyes and forced a smile.
"Yes Uncle Vernon." He said through gritted teeth.
"Sorry." Petunia whispered as he got up and began drying dishes.
"It's ok." Harry mumbled. "It's not as if you said it."
"I'll have a word with him….."
"Nah, he'll just shout at you. It's not worth it - I'll be gone in a few days."
"Do you hate us?" Petunia asked. Harry thought for a moment before answering.
"Hate's a little too strong a word - well, no. Yes, I hate Vernon. No, I don't hate you because for all that you went along with him, you are my mother's sister, and you took me in. Vernon has made me feel worthless all my life. Dudley…is pampered beyond all belief. He honestly has no idea…but that's not really his fault. He's scared of me, for goodness sake. He'd likely have heart failure if even one Deatheater showed up, let alone Voldemort."
"Aren't you scared of all these people that hate you?"
"Why should I be? Voldemort's like…I don't know, more powerful than all of them put together, and I'm too used to being his target to spend all my time worrying about it. All I can do is learn as many spells as I can." Harry said. His Uncle and cousin had left the kitchen, and Petunia was staring at him with an odd expression on her face.
"You're not the typical seventeen year old, you know." She said eventually. Harry snorted in laughter.
"I know it." He assured her. His easy acceptance disturbed Petunia - shouldn't he want to be normal? Shouldn't he be a little more…scared by what he was facing? She made up her mind quickly to owl Professor Dumbledore - she would need an owl though…..
"Harry, can I borrow your owl, please?"
"Er…..ok then." Harry said, looking at her strangely. She guessed he was a little shocked by the fact she was writing to someone in the wizarding world.
She sat down at Harry's desk later that night, a piece of paper in front of her. Harry was lying on his bed, reading a huge book. Every now and then he would take down some notes on parchment with a long feather quill. "What are you doing?" She asked. Harry looked up from the parchment and frowned a little.
"I'm taking notes on what spells I have to learn. I learn them and then teach them to others. It's a bit bizarre really, especially with some of the people I was teaching were older than me."
"Do you like teaching?"
"I've never really thought about it - yeah, I suppose I do. It's funny though, I thought I'd hate teaching at first, when Hermione suggested it, but yeah…..I like it."
"Do you think that's what you'll do when you leave Hogwarts?"
"No. I want to be an Auror."
"What's that?"
"It's someone that fights the Dark Arts. A bit like the police, I suppose. Only a bit more dangerous."
"Oh. Why?"
"Why do I want to be an Auror? Well, I've had a lot of practice already..…I guess that if I'm already doing it, I might as well make a career out of it. That's if I actually manage to pass the Potions final."
"Potions?"
"Yeah, it's one of the subjects I need. Unfortunately, it's one of my worst subjects. Not that Snape helps."
"Snape?"
"My teacher. He hated my dad and now he hates me. The feeling is entirely mutual."
"Oh. What's your favourite subject?"
"Favourite? Defence Against the Dark Arts - at least it is when Remus is teaching. Hey! That's it! Remus! That's the new Defence Teacher! Thank goodness."
"Remus? That name sounds familiar."
"He was one of Mum and Dad's friends. He sent me that photo." Harry pointed to the photo where Petunia saw Lily and James standing with a dark-haired man. She looked closer and uttered a gasp of shock.
"That man - he's the escaped convict that was on TV!" She exclaimed. Shutters fell across Harry's eyes and he suddenly looked older.
"Sirius." He nodded. "He was my godfather - remember I told you about him?"
"Oh yes. I never thought…what was he in prison for?"
"Murder - he was wrongly accused." Harry said bitterly. "He was supposed to be my parents' secret keeper….." Harry retold the story of Sirius' innocence, leaving his Aunt gaping at him.
"What happened to him?"
"He was murdered by his cousin. A deatheater." Harry said. Petunia gulped - yet another person that Harry had lost. How was he still sane?
Petunia let Harry tie the letter to his owl's leg. "I might be at the Weasley's when you get back - just go straight there if I'm not here when you bring the reply back, ok? And drop the reply up here? Good girl. I'll see you soon, ok? Take care of yourself." He said to the owl. Amazingly, the owl nodded in understanding and nipped his finger before flying off. The triplets began to cry for their food then, and Harry was distracted. Petunia looked at the contents of his desk - it was piled high with books, and there were a few photos too. There was one of Leah, hugging that owl, which moved every so often as the baby stirred and began to wake. Another was of Harry and another two people of his age - one boy and one girl. The boy looked vaguely familiar, and Petunia remembered him as one of the redheaded family that always met Harry from the train - the same family that took him almost every summer. He looked very happy in the photo. She looked over at him as he attended to the babies - he looked different now…almost as if his mask had slipped away, unchecked for a moment. Her eyes went back to the photo of Lily, James and Sirius - even then, though they were smiling, if you looked hard enough, you could see in their eyes that they were scared - something dark was coming, and the future was uncertain. Looking into Lily's eyes, she saw the same expression in them as she had seen on her nephew's face whenever he thought no one was watching - whenever the mask slipped.
Harry finished feeding each of the babies, and had rocked them to sleep. Petunia was still in his room, sitting at his desk very quietly and looking around at his scant number of possessions. The few photographs he had, and the books, most of them Defence books. She would never really understand him, he knew, but she was trying to. He sat down on his bed, his mind in a whirl. Why did she care all of a sudden? Why did she suddenly want to be part of his life?
The next few days passed quietly, with Harry doing his chores and spending time with not only the children, but with his Aunt Petunia, who often came into his room after dinner to talk to him. For the first time in his life, Harry thought that he would actually miss his Aunt when he left - she was, after all, one of his few connections to his parents. He was staring out of the window, deep in thought when he saw something that made his heart stop. There was a wizard in Privet Drive. Unless he was very much mistaken, it was a dark-robed, hooded wizard. Harry squinted for a closer look - yes, it was definitely a Deatheater. He swore under his breath, unconsciously running through his options in his mind. He needed to get out of there as quickly and as quietly as possibly - using the least possible amount of magic. There would be no heroics tonight. He shut the blinds to his room, his mind working overtime - he needed to hurry. But how much magic could he use without alerting the deatheater? He cautiously threw his possessions into his trunk manually, locking it with a small, simple spell. Next, he packed up the babies' things and shrunk them so that they could fit into a small backpack. He shrunk his trunk and slipped it into his pocket - peeking from the blinds, he saw the Deatheater looking around the street carefully, almost calculating…..
