In Every Darkness
Chapter Four: A Walk in the Dark
10.7.1996 (late afternoon)
As darkness was just beginning to fall, Harry slipped downstairs. His aunt and uncle were having tea in the kitchen – Dudley was 'having dinner at a friend's' tonight.
"Where are you going boy? It's not safe out," Vernon asked gruffly, not used to being nice to his despised nephew.
"Spare us all the bother and quit acting like you care," Harry sneered at his uncle. "You're only saying that because you don't want the Order to come here. But since you asked, I'm going for a walk. I'll eat when I come back."
With that Harry walked passed the kitchen door and outside into the night, knowing that his aunt and uncle were glaring bitter hatred at his back. And Harry really didn't care at all.
Outside, the cool evening air wafted around his thin form. He looked around at the area that had he had lived in for nearly all of his life… a place that he had never once called home.
The wreckage from the winds a few nights before was mostly cleared now, though Harry had no idea what it had looked like before.
He realised that this was the first time he'd even left his room since he arrived back here for the summer for something other than a trip to the toilet or to get his meal from the Dursley's kitchen.
In the approaching dusk this place could almost be called desirable, and he enjoyed being outside, feeling the fresh breeze, seeing the stars coming out above his head.
"Heya Harry," a voice murmured from the hedge behind him. Harry started around, only to relax when he saw Mundungus 'Dung' Fletcher approaching from the darkness beside Number Four Privet Drive.
"Hi Dung," Harry responded. "Dumbledore still having me watched?"
"Of course he is!" Dung responded. "More so now than ever. The Dark Lord's showing his hand, Harry, and you're the one he wants dead more than any other. Of course you're still being watched."
"I should have realised that," Harry remarked, mentally cursing himself for not realising sooner.
"Where ya going, kid?"
"For a walk. I haven't really decided where yet," Harry replied, shrugging.
"I'll just come along with you, shall I?" Dung seemed to be trying to make up for leaving Harry the summer before – right before Dementors came and attacked him.
"If you like," Harry replied, not really wanting the company, but knowing that the man would just follow him anyway.
"You've had us a bit worried kid, not coming out of the house," Dung tried to strike up a conversation.
Harry only shrugged.
Dung seemed to get the message and fell silent too. Suddenly Harry saw Dudley and his gang in the distance, coming towards him – heading home, probably.
He kept walking, not caring if they saw him.
It wasn't long before one of them – Harry thought it might have been Denis – yelled out to the others that Harry was coming.
Harry was close enough to see the stricken look on Dudley's face – how to avoid hitting Harry without his gang realising it. But the bigger boy said nothing, knowing that there was no way.
The gang came up, spreading out across the street, only to stop when they saw Harry's companion. "I say," Dung said, "what's going on here?"
"My cousin," Harry said briefly, waving absently at Dudley, "and his little gang of friends."
"Ah. Friends of yours then?" Dung asked, obviously aware that the situation was quite the opposite of this.
"Yeah!" Piers Polkiss piped up, seeing the scars from numerous fights on Dung's face, and understanding all too well the menacing undertone.
"That's good! Wouldn't want anyone getting hurt," Dung said, nodding amiably.
Suddenly there was a thudding step from the road behind Dudley's gang. They all whipped around to see who it was.
Harry immediately recognised the prowling, hooded figure with the wooden leg as Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. "Hi Mr. Moody," Harry offered the man, who extended a thin, scarred hand to shove Piers out of the way.
"Harry, Dung," Moody nodded briefly to them both. "And it's Alastor, boy."
Harry prevented himself from gaping – just. Moody let very few people call him by his first name – only those that he trusted or respected greatly.
"Dung, there's a meeting that you are supposed to be attending, you should be going," Dung simply nodded and Apparated away.
"If you don't mind, Harry, I'll keep you company for a while," the ex-Auror offered.
"Sure," Harry replied with a shrug, looking around for Dudley's gang. They seemed to have all fled.
Harry continued walking, not really paying attention to where he was going. Mood-Alastor's silent form keeping him company. Harry had allowed his steps to slow, unconsciously making allowances for his companion's disability.
He wondered why he was not angry at Alastor and Dung for thinking that he needed protection. Maybe it was because if he showed his anger, Alastor would hex him… Or maybe it was the good night's sleep he'd just had.
Whatever it was, Harry found he didn't really care.
"We should turn back, Harry," Alastor offered finally, a little after full dark fell. "Streets are dangerous places at night."
Harry nodded in acceptance of this fact and turned around, the pair of them heading back by a different route to that which they'd come.
"Try to avoid taking the same route twice," Alastor remarked a few minutes later. "It gives people a way of knowing where you'll be, and when. Bad idea that."
The only real words he'd spoken to Harry were such, warnings or suggestions like those. Otherwise the former Auror was more than happy to remain silent, as was Harry.
Harry found that he quite liked the older mans company. Mostly silent, fairly companionable and not impatient.
Some time before they reached Privet Drive, Alastor Moody disappeared from Harry's side. One moment he was there, his wooden leg making a familiar 'clop' on the pavement, the next he was not.
Harry knew that the man was not far away, should any trouble arrive, and was grateful for a few moments alone in the street, it gave him the illusion that he was alone, and could remain that way, independent. But illusions never lasted forever, and this one was no exception.
He stood for a moment on the doorstep of Number Four, and then pushed the door open and walked inside.
In the kitchen on a corner of the bench was a plate of food for him. Dudley, it seemed, was in the Living Room playing on his PlayStation 2, a Christmas present from the year before.
Harry simply took his plate and headed upstairs, ignoring the Dursleys completely, not that they'd actually said anything to him.
Sitting at his desk, Harry found his appetite, eating the food quickly and almost wishing there was more. Harry ignored the feeling - he wasn't hungry enough to go back downstairs and ask his aunt for more food.
Instead he picked up his Defence Against the Dark Arts book and started reading again.
It was rather interesting, he'd found, reading about different curses and the uses they could be put to. More interesting than anything else he could think of doing.
Harry drifted into sleep midway through the page he'd been reading, and, for a little while at least, slept easily.
He woke several hours later sobbing wildly; yet another nightmare had woken him.
Where was Sirius? Harry could feel his anger returning. Why hadn't his godfather come back? Gods! All he wanted was to talk to the man, but no…
Could that have just been a dream? Could he have dreamt that his godfather had come to him, told him it was alright, that it hadn't been Harry's fault?
Could he have dreamed that?
Harry sighed furiously. How could he know? What was the difference between dreams and reality? Both of them sucked! Standing up he kicked the book he'd reading across the floor, and scowled after it…
Please review!
WolfMoon