Note: I've gone through the story so far and improved on some stuff. The plot it a little better in places and I spotted a few mistakes I had to get rid off. I've also given the whole thing a kind of template so it looks a bit more organised. So all in all the standard should of gone up a couple on notches…

Harry Potter and the Malevolent Affections

Chapter One - Abigail

Disclaimer: As you can probably see I'm not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter or any of the associated characters.

Harry sat in the back of the Dursley's car as it wound its way towards Privet Drive. It had been roughly fifty minutes since he'd disembarked from the Hogwart's express, it felt like hours. Glumly he wondered what effect his friends' efforts to improve his summer would have on Vernon and the others. So far it seemed that they were still in a state of mild shock. The car continued on its journey whilst everyone inside sat in silence. To Harry the whole affair was like watching some weird, disinfected, soap-opera through a black and white TV on mute. The events of the last school year, which had seemed so fresh and pressing a moment before, were already slipping from his mind.

Dudley's watch suddenly beeped marking the hour; everyone seemed to snap back into reality.

"So, Dudders how was school? Still going strong?" Vernon asked, sounding suddenly pleased. Harry caught a glimpse of his uncle's face in the wing-mirror. A few moments ago it had been streaked with heavy thought lines but now his hammy features were curved into a smile.

"It was okay." Grunted Dudley

"Excellent, excellent." Replied Vernon, still sounding happy, after a short pause the man actually began to hum. Harry began to feel increasingly agitated, his uncle's good moods normally paralleled with his bad ones. "Petunia, Dudley - I've been thinking. A friend of mine at work, a rather high up friend, has offered to lend me his caravan for the summer. Now, seeing as we've all been working hard this year, how about we take a break somewhere… The south of France maybe."

"But what about the TV shows I'll miss?!" Dudley half bellowed, half wailed.

"This caravan," said Vernon, "Has a wide screen satellite TV." There was another pause, Harry didn't like where this was going. It felt like the car had been filled with quivering static electricity.

Aunt Petunia craned her head closer to the drivers' seat. "Vernon dear," She hissed "What about the boy?"

"We'll leave him behind. He can't tell his friends anymore lies if we're not there to be lied about."

"Not in my house! I've only just had the curtains back from the cleaners!" Her fingers began to pluck at invisible specks of dust on the dashboard.

"We'll lock the doors… limit his behaviour."

"It's not that I think it's a bad idea Vernon, but not all the doors have locks on."

"Easily solved Petunia, easily solved." The car swerved suddenly and pulled up outside a large hardware store. "Wait in the car!" Vernon barked to Harry as the Dursley's paraded towards the shop's revolving doors.

It was getting late into the evening when Harry finally recognized the homeward stretch of the journey. In between buying the locks and stopping at several other shops they'd stopped to buy polystyrene trays of chips from a roadside snack bar. Harry's legs still hurt from where Vernon unceremoniously deposited the scalding oil-soaked tray but other than that he'd been ignored. The car stopped neatly and before long the Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had disembarked with their shopping and Dudley's school things in tow. Harry found himself standing on the pavement with his trunk and Hedgewig's cage which, after his legs had woken up from the journey (he hadn't been aloud to get out of the car), he dragged to the front door.

"I trust you remember where that belongs." His uncle said as soon as he crossed the threshold. Wearily Harry dragged his school things to his ex-room, the cupboard beneath the stairs, and pushed them inside.

"I have homework; I'll need my things…" It was hardly worth arguing but he tried anyway.

"I'm sure your friends will help you with whatever it is." Was his Uncle's tart reply; as he slammed and bolted the cupboard door.

Harry's room was much as it had been when he left it, but with slightly more dust - it proved to be the only room in the house that wasn't cleaned religiously by Petunia. Hedgewig gave an annoyed hoot as he moved her to her usual spot, other than that the room was silent. After a moments deliberation he flopped onto his bed, yawned, and feel asleep.

For Hermione Granger leaving Hogwarts for the holidays wasn't exactly unpleasant, she got on well with her parents, who were both dentists, and didn't have any brothers or sisters to bully or annoy her. But it was incredibly boring. Last year she'd ran out of reading material long before she'd gone to the Weasly's and, with even fewer books this year, she'd probably be out of new information by the end of the first week. She sighed, trying to think of some other way of passing the time. Perhaps she could write more letters, lots and lots of letters. She sighed again.

"It's all well and good feeling bored but Harry has it far worse than me during the holidays, so I might as well kick this habit before it starts" She said to herself, in the nagging tone she normally reserved for her friends when they failed to hand work in.

"How was school dear?" Her mother's voice came drifting from the front of the car.

"School was fine… I broke two ribs and Harry almost died, but it was fine…" Sometimes she found it hard not to get annoyed with parents, for some reason they couldn't accept that parts of the wizarding world worked differently to their own.

"Well I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that. Your teachers probably have it all under control. Now what would you like for tea?" Hermione gritted her teeth and pretended she hadn't heard.

"Who's Harry," Said her Father after a while, "Your boyfriend?" She huffed loudly and glared at the back of his seat.

"Honestly Hermione, be civil to your father. I thought your behaviour might have improved since last summer." Her mother pulled out some papers from a faux-leather briefcase and began to flick through them.

Harry woke and stared at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to get used to the darkness. It had been dusky when he'd fallen asleep and judging by the dry feeling in his mouth and the sleep in his eyes it was now much later. He checked the glowing hands on his watch; it was about one in the mourning. He turned over and lay still for a while, but he felt restless.

Deciding that getting anymore sleep would be pointless he sat up and listened. To his surprise everyone else seemed to be awake, the sound of Dudley's TV was floating from one direction and he could hear his aunt and uncle talking quietly in their room.

"Can you believe the nerve of these people? I phone them, willing to pay good money for a holiday and the best they can give me is 'three days time' I'd of thought, what with all these adverts that they'd be more reasonable about it." Harry could hear Vernon's heavy plodding in between words, his uncle was pacing as he spoke.

"I'm sure those chips have given me food poisoning… are you sure he was clean Vernon?"

"For the price he charged they should have been gold plated."

Were the Dursley's so worried about Harry and his friends that they were skipping the country for the summer? It seemed that way, although there was probably some other motive as well. But the whole idea sent a surge of glee down Harry's spine. He would have the house, Dursley-free, for the whole summer. Of course there were the large amount of locks and bolts that his Uncle had brought… but locks could be picked… Maybe he could have a party, he could invite Ron and Hermione, and they could buy-in food and spend the entire holiday blissfully ignoring problems like Voldemort, Umbridge and the Ministry.

Scrambling to his feet and pulling a folded sheet of paper, a vial of ink and a quill from his pocket he walked to the desk and began to write. It was dark, but if he held his head close to the paper then he could just make out the letters. To begin with he wasn't sure what to write, but soon he had a sizable letter addressed to Ron detailing all of his plans. The next letter, to Hermione, proved to be more difficult. How, exactly, did you invite a girl to a party? He stopped to think, something was wrong. If, a few minutes ago, everyone had been awake then the house shouldn't suddenly be silent. He stood up and strained to hear something, but there wasn't anything to be heard. Not even a snore. Slowly he crept out of the door and towards his Aunt and Uncles room.

The curtains were open and blowing slightly in the draft from the open window. Outside there was a thin sickle-shaped moon, it seemed larger then normal, and incredibly bright. He moved closer to the door to try and get a better view inside. Vernon was slumped against the wall, his thick neck at an odd angle. Harry felt a wave of nausea sweep over him. He crept closer still; he was now standing on the metal carpet rail below the doorway. Petunia was slumped forwards on the side of the bed, her hair only half inside a pink hair net. He stepped forwards willing himself on, reaching to his back pocket where his wand would have been if it wasn't still beside his pillow.

"Uncle Vernon?" There was no answer. "Uncle Vernon?" His uncle's bulk slid down the wall a fraction Harry jumped and stifled a surprised yell. Still, no one seemed to notice he was there. Harry felt cold, the gentle breeze from the window suddenly felt icy against his skin. He took a deep breath, fighting the will to run back to his room and grab his wand. If they were sick, if they needed medical help, then he couldn't waste time. Slowly he lowered his head towards his uncle's slack, expressionless face. The man was breathing. He checked Petunia in the same way, she too was breathing. Relived he wondered what to do next. Should he try to wake them up? Could he wake them up? He headed towards the bathroom, hoping that the small medicine cabinet had smelling salts. Half way there a thought hit him, Dudley.

Still keeping as silent as possible he slipped into his cousins lavishly decorated room. The light was out but the TV, which was broadcasting some kind of silent crazy static, bathed the surroundings in an eerie blue glow. Dudley lay sprawled on his back, his mammoth frame creating a crater in the double sprung mattress. Picking his way between the discarded school things and several weights Harry made his way to the bed. Carefully he lowered his head to Dudley's mouth; he was so close that he could see a drop of perspiration the tip of Dudley's pig-like nose. Holding his own breath he listened for his cousins…

"Fear!" the single strangled word from Dudley's lips was accompanied by a frenzied jerk, his entire body seemed to lift up just to the point of floating and then collapse back into unconsciousness. Harry leapt backwards, slipped on a crisp packet and met with the floor back first.

He pulled himself to his feet and ran for the door, whatever was going on he'd need magic to deal with it. With shallow, ragged breaths he reached his room and pushed open the door, which stood ajar. There, facing him was a pale-faced girl. Her feet, which were clad in black patent leather sandals, hovered just above the floor. She wore a dark blue dress above a white blouse and wore her pale blond hair swept back with an Alice band. Her eyes were large and round; they dominated her face and were a piercing shade of blue.

"Hello Harry Potter." Her voice was a strange mixture of a childish sing-song tone and a flat deadpan drawl. Keeping his back to the wall Harry worked his way towards his wand. He was about to reach for it but suddenly froze. He couldn't move - it felt like hundreds of bitterly cold fingers were running over his skin, pushing him just enough to hold him exactly where he was. "Hello, Harry Potter? It would be polite of you to answer me when I speak to you." Harry gulped.

"Who are you?" To his surprise she giggled.

"Oh, you can hear me. I was terribly afraid I'd done something wrong." She floated closer to him, he still couldn't move. She was about his age he thought, maybe a little older.

"Who are you?" He repeated.

"I'm Abigail, a big fan of yours. And I'm sixteen years old." It sounded like she was introducing herself on some kind of game show. Inwardly Harry's sighed the same way he did when anyone else told him they were a big fan.

"Well, Abigail, what did you do to the Dursley's?" He did his best to sound confident but something about her baleful eyes made him avoid her stare.

"Don't do that." Her lips pursed into a frown.

"What?"

"Talk to me like I'm some kind of idiot… I got twelve OWL's, ten of them were outstanding."

"Sorry… but please… can you undo whatever you did."

"I suppose so…" She ran a thin finger along the side of his head; it felt desperately cold, even in comparison to the weird force holding him still.

"What are you doing?" He tried to twist away, but couldn't.

"Nothing… just looking." She smiled suddenly, "I'll talk to you later little bird."

In a dizzying rush the house returned to normal. Harry, who suddenly found he could move again, fell backwards onto the bed. In the other room he could hear Dudley's TV blaring and his aunt and uncle were snoring peacefully after a few moments.

"What the hell was that?" He muttered to himself, reaching for his wand and holding it tightly.

"Simple enough little bird…" For a second Harry thought he saw her pale oval face reflected in the window, but when he turned no one was there.