disclaimer: see first chapter. still don't own it.
Harry was very upset with his relatives at the moment. They could keep him locked in his room, sure, and they could give him their leftovers, he didn't care, but they could not insult and hang up on his best friend, which he was quite certain they had done. He walked down the stairs, Dumbledore appeared to have left. He didn't care. The old man had been the very person who got him stuck here with these freaks, he could repair the damage himself when he got back from whatever hole he had gone to hide in. He found his aunt in the kitchen, washing dishes from breakfast. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She turned around.
"What is it? If you're going to come out of your room, you might as well be of some use, you know. Why don't you finish washing these dishes for me."
Harry just gaped at her. How could she still ask him to do things for her, after all she had done to him, and probably his mother too.
"Err..no thanks. I just came to ask why you haven't been telling me that I've been getting calls from a friend of mine. I imagine you just hung up on anyone who was asking for Harry? Really nice of you." He knew his eyes had started to change. Petunia got very white faced, and started to back away. "Or maybe you called them names and then hung up? Really, you shouldn't have," he said, and then his voice turned dangerous, "You really shouldn't ha-"
"Boy!" Shouted his uncle, "Don't you take that tone with my wife! You can't threaten us! You'll be expelled from that freak school you go to! Now go to your room, and while you're at it you can write to that freakish bitch and tell her not to call my house anymore! She can't fool me! I know what she is!"
Vernon continued to insult Hermione and all his kind, but Harry had stopped listening. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. he stepped back a few spaces into the living room. Vernon looked triumphant at this, apparantly thinking he had scared some sense into the boy, but Harry, realizing his uncle's assumption, smirked, and then transformed.
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"...and what is she, uncle?" came out as a deep rumble which shook the house that Harry almost didn't recognize as his own voice, "a 'freakish bitch', is that it?". He lifted up an enormous clawed foot and made to grab Vernon.
"Never insult her again, or any of my friends!" the last bit came out as a roar wich made several things fall of their shelves and break. He was about to close his clawed hand around Vernon's overweight, quivering form when he heard..
"No, Harry!" said a shrill voice he instantly recognized. Only it sounded...afraid? Was she...afraid of him?
"Harry calm down," she said in almost a whimper, "they aren't worth this, Harry!...I'm not worth this!"
Harry suddenly felt very ashamed and upset with himself. He realized finally, that his eyes...had turned red when he wasn't paying attention. An image flashed before him from his memory, and lifeless red eyes stared into his, eyes filled with rage. Just like...him.
Harry reverted to his normal shape and eye color, and began to cry. He didn't even realize he was naked there on the floor, curled up into a ball, and wouldn't have cared anyway. Dudley's old stretched clothes were ripped to shreds by his transformation. He could only think one thing.
He was becoming just like Voldemort.
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The Dursleys had left the room, silently, in fear of him.
He sensed Hermione moving closer to him.
"I...I'm sorry, Hermione." he said with tears still burning his eyes. "You must hate me now. I've become...like him."
He turned to see Hermione looking shocked. Then angry.
"No you're not, Harry. You're nothing like him, and I don't want to hear you saying that again! It's not true!"
She stopped, and Harry realized she was crying herself now.
He had made her cry. He didn't want her to cry. He suddenly felt much worse.
"Hermione, please don't cry. But..but I just-"
"No, Harry!" she said, eyes reddened now. "You aren't! You have so many things that he doesn't have!"
Harry began to laugh bitterly. "Really?" he said "Like what?"
The angry look came over her face again. "'Like what?'! Would Voldemort have stopped or felt any guilt in killing his uncle if he had hurt him the way they've hurt you?"
Harry felt a little relief at that. She was right. As always. "...Hermione. You're right. Thank you." he smiled at her through his lingering tears. She smiled back.
"Let's go upstairs. I'm feeling...a bit tired..." He slowly tried to get up, and succeeded, though not without considerable pain.
He suppposed he didn't quite get the transformation into the Horntail to work correctly. He would have to work on it again later.
Hermione, blushing a bit, took his arm when he stumbled and helped him up the stairs.
It was only when he walked past his open wardrobe when he realized he was naked. But he was too tired after that to care much, or to wonder how Hermione had gotten there. He just fell onto the bed, thanked Hermione and tried to get back to sleep.
He felt Hermione pulling covers over him and then hugging him and kissing him on the cheek. Not for the first time, Harry felt it was far too soon when she pulled away from the hug. It suddenly felt so cold without her there. He was tempted, in his not entirely consious state, to ask her to stay with him, just holding him, but then he thought 'No, she wouldn't be needing any sleep, it's just me that's tired...' Never realizing he had mumbled this out loud, leaving Hermione looking confused one second, and then blushing the next..
Hermione had then pulled a chair up next to his bed, and had begun to read from one of the many books he had strewn about his room. Harry realized she was reading his books, probably one she had already read before; and he smiled at her before drifting off to sleep.
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Harry's dreams were mostly vague shadows, and although they felt similar to the nightmares he had been having recently about the Department of Mysteries, the feeling was distant, as if a warm blanket had been placed between himself and the nightmares. He could vaguely make out frustrated screams in the distance, and a pair of red eyes glaring at him in the darkness, but he felt no pain. In fact, it almost felt as if a pair of arms was encircling him. He heard voices in the distance, though perhaps closer than the red eyes and the screams. And they were definitely softer.
"Yes, Ms. Granger, I must ask you to do this. He does not trust me as much as he does you. It will not be anything the two of you together cannot handle, I assure you, and it is time Harry began awakening his full potential as a wizard and as a human being."
That must be Dumbledore again....what was he talking about? Come to think of it, why hadn't he seen him when he brought Hermione? He must have been there...somewhere...
then he heard Hermione's voice, obviously worried. "Are you sure it's okay for us to be doing this, with all the stress he's just been through? I'll do anything to help him, but I also don't want to see him in more pain."
Harry wanted to tell her that he would be fine, but he couldn't seem to open his eyes or work his mouth just yet. He was just too tired, and it came out as more of a moan. He felt rather than saw Hermione's eyes on him, and then heard her sigh in exasperation, apparantly at him for trying to wake up so soon. He felt her hand in his hair, massaging his head, and Harry lost consiousness again, the voices becoming distant, and he faintly heard Dumbledore chuckling and saying something he couldn't quite make out.
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Harry was very upset with his relatives at the moment. They could keep him locked in his room, sure, and they could give him their leftovers, he didn't care, but they could not insult and hang up on his best friend, which he was quite certain they had done. He walked down the stairs, Dumbledore appeared to have left. He didn't care. The old man had been the very person who got him stuck here with these freaks, he could repair the damage himself when he got back from whatever hole he had gone to hide in. He found his aunt in the kitchen, washing dishes from breakfast. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She turned around.
"What is it? If you're going to come out of your room, you might as well be of some use, you know. Why don't you finish washing these dishes for me."
Harry just gaped at her. How could she still ask him to do things for her, after all she had done to him, and probably his mother too.
"Err..no thanks. I just came to ask why you haven't been telling me that I've been getting calls from a friend of mine. I imagine you just hung up on anyone who was asking for Harry? Really nice of you." He knew his eyes had started to change. Petunia got very white faced, and started to back away. "Or maybe you called them names and then hung up? Really, you shouldn't have," he said, and then his voice turned dangerous, "You really shouldn't ha-"
"Boy!" Shouted his uncle, "Don't you take that tone with my wife! You can't threaten us! You'll be expelled from that freak school you go to! Now go to your room, and while you're at it you can write to that freakish bitch and tell her not to call my house anymore! She can't fool me! I know what she is!"
Vernon continued to insult Hermione and all his kind, but Harry had stopped listening. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. he stepped back a few spaces into the living room. Vernon looked triumphant at this, apparantly thinking he had scared some sense into the boy, but Harry, realizing his uncle's assumption, smirked, and then transformed.
=============
"...and what is she, uncle?" came out as a deep rumble which shook the house that Harry almost didn't recognize as his own voice, "a 'freakish bitch', is that it?". He lifted up an enormous clawed foot and made to grab Vernon.
"Never insult her again, or any of my friends!" the last bit came out as a roar wich made several things fall of their shelves and break. He was about to close his clawed hand around Vernon's overweight, quivering form when he heard..
"No, Harry!" said a shrill voice he instantly recognized. Only it sounded...afraid? Was she...afraid of him?
"Harry calm down," she said in almost a whimper, "they aren't worth this, Harry!...I'm not worth this!"
Harry suddenly felt very ashamed and upset with himself. He realized finally, that his eyes...had turned red when he wasn't paying attention. An image flashed before him from his memory, and lifeless red eyes stared into his, eyes filled with rage. Just like...him.
Harry reverted to his normal shape and eye color, and began to cry. He didn't even realize he was naked there on the floor, curled up into a ball, and wouldn't have cared anyway. Dudley's old stretched clothes were ripped to shreds by his transformation. He could only think one thing.
He was becoming just like Voldemort.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Dursleys had left the room, silently, in fear of him.
He sensed Hermione moving closer to him.
"I...I'm sorry, Hermione." he said with tears still burning his eyes. "You must hate me now. I've become...like him."
He turned to see Hermione looking shocked. Then angry.
"No you're not, Harry. You're nothing like him, and I don't want to hear you saying that again! It's not true!"
She stopped, and Harry realized she was crying herself now.
He had made her cry. He didn't want her to cry. He suddenly felt much worse.
"Hermione, please don't cry. But..but I just-"
"No, Harry!" she said, eyes reddened now. "You aren't! You have so many things that he doesn't have!"
Harry began to laugh bitterly. "Really?" he said "Like what?"
The angry look came over her face again. "'Like what?'! Would Voldemort have stopped or felt any guilt in killing his uncle if he had hurt him the way they've hurt you?"
Harry felt a little relief at that. She was right. As always. "...Hermione. You're right. Thank you." he smiled at her through his lingering tears. She smiled back.
"Let's go upstairs. I'm feeling...a bit tired..." He slowly tried to get up, and succeeded, though not without considerable pain.
He suppposed he didn't quite get the transformation into the Horntail to work correctly. He would have to work on it again later.
Hermione, blushing a bit, took his arm when he stumbled and helped him up the stairs.
It was only when he walked past his open wardrobe when he realized he was naked. But he was too tired after that to care much, or to wonder how Hermione had gotten there. He just fell onto the bed, thanked Hermione and tried to get back to sleep.
He felt Hermione pulling covers over him and then hugging him and kissing him on the cheek. Not for the first time, Harry felt it was far too soon when she pulled away from the hug. It suddenly felt so cold without her there. He was tempted, in his not entirely consious state, to ask her to stay with him, just holding him, but then he thought 'No, she wouldn't be needing any sleep, it's just me that's tired...' Never realizing he had mumbled this out loud, leaving Hermione looking confused one second, and then blushing the next..
Hermione had then pulled a chair up next to his bed, and had begun to read from one of the many books he had strewn about his room. Harry realized she was reading his books, probably one she had already read before; and he smiled at her before drifting off to sleep.
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Harry's dreams were mostly vague shadows, and although they felt similar to the nightmares he had been having recently about the Department of Mysteries, the feeling was distant, as if a warm blanket had been placed between himself and the nightmares. He could vaguely make out frustrated screams in the distance, and a pair of red eyes glaring at him in the darkness, but he felt no pain. In fact, it almost felt as if a pair of arms was encircling him. He heard voices in the distance, though perhaps closer than the red eyes and the screams. And they were definitely softer.
"Yes, Ms. Granger, I must ask you to do this. He does not trust me as much as he does you. It will not be anything the two of you together cannot handle, I assure you, and it is time Harry began awakening his full potential as a wizard and as a human being."
That must be Dumbledore again....what was he talking about? Come to think of it, why hadn't he seen him when he brought Hermione? He must have been there...somewhere...
then he heard Hermione's voice, obviously worried. "Are you sure it's okay for us to be doing this, with all the stress he's just been through? I'll do anything to help him, but I also don't want to see him in more pain."
Harry wanted to tell her that he would be fine, but he couldn't seem to open his eyes or work his mouth just yet. He was just too tired, and it came out as more of a moan. He felt rather than saw Hermione's eyes on him, and then heard her sigh in exasperation, apparantly at him for trying to wake up so soon. He felt her hand in his hair, massaging his head, and Harry lost consiousness again, the voices becoming distant, and he faintly heard Dumbledore chuckling and saying something he couldn't quite make out.
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