Truths
By Neurotica
Nine
Perfectly Normal.
This is the best way to describe Privet Drive: perfectly normal.
It was a sight you would find in some strange horror story; everything from the sidewalks to the driveways, from the houses to the trees, and even the people, was perfectly normal.
Eerie...
And this was the way the inhabitants of Privet Drive preferred it. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened here… Everything was perfectly normal...
That is, unless you happened to look inside Number Four. Vernon and Petunia Dursley were obsessed with keeping their lives as normal as possible. Vernon worked for Grunnings Drill Company, whilst Petunia played perfect little house wife. Their son, Dudley, was as normal as a child of those two could possibly be. Vernon and Petunia thought he was perfect.
There was one secret, however, that kept the Dursleys from living their perfect, normal lives. Nearly five years previous, a baby was left on the Dursleys' doorstep. He was the son of Petunia's sister, Lily, and though Petunia hadn't spoken with her sister in years, the little boy was left with a note from some man called Albus Dumbledore. The note explained to the Dursleys that they were now the child's only living relatives; that his parents were murdered the night before by some other man called Lord Voldemort; that the Dursleys would have to take the boy in for his protection.
If they had wanted to send him back, they couldn't; once Petunia had taken the boy over the threshold of her home, their fate was sealed. They would have to keep him.
So the Dursleys had an addition to their family—though you wouldn't know it by looking at the family photos on the walls. The Dursleys preferred to pretend that little Harry Potter did not exist; it made their lives easier.
They believed they were doing Harry a considerable kindness by taking him in, giving him Dudley's old clothes (which looked like parachutes on the small boy), feeding him once or twice a day (if he "behaved"), and allowing him to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry was forced to repay this kindness by doing chores around the house. Not small chores, mind you. He was forced to mow the lawn, do the dishes, make beds, scrub floors, and whatever else the Dursleys could think of. Petunia had recently begun teaching the five-year-old how to cook.
Harry's life was far from easy. Actually, it was pure hell; when he wasn't doing chores for his relatives—when he was allowed to go outside—he was being chased by his pig of a cousin and his best friend, Piers Polkiss. In fact, currently Harry was hiding behind a tree, hoping it was concealing his small frame from Dudley and Piers. The two troublemakers had recently discovered a game they had dubbed "Harry Hunting." They loved it; Harry hated it. The object of the "game" was for Harry to run, Dudley and Piers to find him, taunt him relentlessly about his "weirdness," and maybe get a punch or two in before lunch.
Harry hoped something would distract them so he could run to the nearby park.
And, as if answering his prayers, a distraction came. It was in the form of a fat rat with a bald tail, and it had come from some bushes across from Harry's hiding spot. The rat dashed through the grass and was heading directly for Harry. But before it could make it, Dudley pointed it out to Piers and the two began to chase the rat on their bicycles. Harry watched as the rat darted around the wheels, trying to avoid becoming road kill, but Harry couldn't help feeling grateful for the rat's timing; Dudley and Piers had only been feet away from Harry's tree.
While they were distracted, Harry ran from where he had been hiding for the past thirty minutes in the direction of the park. He passed Mrs. Figg's house where he got the distinct impression of being watched. He shrugged it off as he finally made it to the park.
Today it seemed pretty full with parents playing with their children. Harry sat on a swing, shuffling his feet in the sand, watching them sadly; he wished someone would push him on the swing…
Harry's Aunt Petunia had told him last year that his parents were killed in a car crash. This car crash had also resulted with the lightning bolt-shaped scar Harry had on his forehead. Then she told him to stop asking questions. Often, Harry had dreams of what could have only been the car crash: bright green lights and sinister laughing—though the laughing made no sense. Recently, Harry had started dreaming of an enormous flying motorcycle, big black dogs, wolves, and a dark-colored stag, but he never understood these things either. For as long as he could remember—mostly when Uncle Vernon punished him for being a "freak"—Harry would dream of some unknown relative coming to take him away from Privet Drive. But that could never happen...
Harry's stomach rumbled loudly signaling it was time to go make Dudley's lunch—another chore Petunia saved for the five-year-old. With a final push on his swing, Harry jumped off and headed back to Number Four (he never considered it "home"). He passed Mrs. Figg's again—three cats sitting on the porch followed him with their eyes—crossed the street and walked up the driveway.
It seemed Dudley and Piers had quickly lost interest in the rat (Harry made a mental note to look for it later, just to make sure it was even still alive), and had gone in for lunch. Harry opened the door to the house, and walked to the kitchen. The living room television was turned up deafeningly loud with Dudley's favorite cartoon. Harry enjoyed it too, when he was allowed to watch.
Aunt Petunia was at the kitchen counter making Dudley's plate of a large ham and mayonnaise sandwich and a generous amount of potato crisps. She turned with the plate and spotted Harry. "You're late, boy. Dudley had to wait for his lunch, because you couldn't be bothered being on time," she sneered.
Harry gulped. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia," he mumbled meekly.
"I made your lunch since I had to make Dudley's; it's on the counter." She said this in a way that suggested she had done Harry a great service. Aunt Petunia sat the plate in front of Dudley and ran her hand fondly through his blond hair. She then turned back to Harry. "And don't make a mess this time or it's to the shed for the rest of the afternoon."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
His lunch, which consisted of a stale piece of bread, folded over old cheese and dried carrot sticks sitting not on a plate, but a napkin, was indeed on the counter. Harry sighed at his meal—this was a new low—and walked to the kitchen table. He sat in a chair farthest away from Dudley as to not attract any attention to himself. Dudley, however, was occupied with the television in the living room, and didn't even notice the mayonnaise dripping from one of his many chins.
"When you're finished," Aunt Petunia said as Harry began munching on his pathetic lunch, "you're to get the weeds out of that garden; their getting out of control. And after that, you need to vacuum upstairs, and scrub the kitchen floor. And don't make me have to send you back a second time to do it. Do you understand me, boy?"
Harry nodded timidly. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."
Once finished with his very unsatisfactory meal, Harry headed outside to weed the garden. For the thousandth time in his young life, Harry wondered what it would be like living anywhere else, with people who actually cared about him...
Down the road at Arabella Figg's home, two such people appeared out of thin air in the backyard.
"Surprised I didn't splinch myself after not doing that for so long," Sirius Black commented.
His accomplice, better known as Remus Lupin, chuckled. "Yes, that would have made a fine sight, Padfoot. The Ministry having to unsplinch Sirius Black, infamous mad mass murderer. That would have made a lovely sight."
"Shut up, Moony," Sirius mock-growled. Remus began to retort, but a voice from the back porch cut him off.
"It's about time the two of you showed up!"
Sirius smiled widely. "Figgy! Smashing to see you again, old girl! How are you?"
Arabella Figg stood with her gray hair in an old hair net, wearing an old green flowered dress, her hands on her hips.
"Good afternoon, Arabella. How are you today?" Remus asked with a slight bow.
Arabella rolled her eyes, but smiled at the two wizards. "Just fine, just fine. Come in, we need to get this over with before that oaf Vernon Dursley gets home from work. It'll be bad enough having to deal with Petunia."
Sirius snorted. "Don't worry about darling Petunia, Figgy. Leave her to us..."
Arabella glared at Sirius. "Black, I've told you and Mundungus Fletcher to stop calling me Figgy!"
Sirius walked up the porch and wrapped Arabella in a hug. "You know you love us," he whispered, "Figgy."
Arabella whacked Sirius with a small bag that sounded like cat litter, and Remus had to try hard to hold back his laughter.
"Remus, you wipe that grin off your face and give me a damn hug; I haven't seen you in ages," Arabella said. Remus smiled and hugged Arabella. "Now then, inside with the both of you. And transfigure those robes into Muggle clothing—you don't want any extra attention in this neighborhood."
Sirius and Remus exchanged an amused look at their former fellow Order of the Phoenix member and followed. Arabella led them through the cabbage smelling house to the kitchen. Four or five cats hissed at the men and fled from the room.
"Don't know what's gotten into them... never done that before..." Arabella muttered. Remus and Sirius exchanged smirks.
"Sit, sit, sit," Arabella continued. The three sat around the small oak kitchen table. "Well, then. First, Sirius, welcome back. I know you've probably heard that a million times in the past week, but there you go." Sirius could only smile in thanks before Arabella plowed on. "Now. Dumbledore told me, of course, why you're here. And I have to tell you, it's about damn time somebody's finally doing it."
Sirius and Remus raised their eyebrows simultaneously.
"That boy is the most wonderful thing in this world, and that bloody family is horrible to him. That boy stays there, he's gonna be a right mess by the time he goes to Hogwarts." Before either man could question what she was talking about, Arabella rambled on. "Five years old! That child is five years old and that horse and oaf that call themselves people work him to death! I see him digging in that bloody garden during hundred degree weather! Mowing the lawn while all those other children get to play outside. And that pig of a son they have! Struttin' around here as if he's Minister of Magic, pushing smaller children around. And what do the parents do? Not a damn thing! They think he's the best thing since Quidditch!"
When Arabella finished her speech, Sirius and Remus were torn between anger at the way she said Harry was treated, and fear of the very livid old woman. Remus was the only one with enough courage to stop her rant. "Er, Arabella?" he said fearfully.
"What?" she said breathlessly. She'd obviously been holding this in for a while...
Remus gulped. "Er, maybe... we should go get Harry now..."
Arabella deflated significantly and blinked away her anger. "Oh. Right. Harry. Yes, let's get you two going then." She stood and walked out of the kitchen. "And change those clothes! I told you before!"
Remus and Sirius transfigured their robes into jeans and t-shirts, and stuck their wands in their back pockets, just in case.
Arabella walked them to the porch and pointed. "There. Number Four." Remus and Sirius stayed where they were. "Well, get going, then! I'll be back inside; Dumbledore's sending a portkey." She walked back in the house and slammed the door. Both Sirius and Remus jumped and winced.
The two walked to the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive and stared.
Sirius smiled. "Ah! Just the way I remember it," he said. "Except colorless and egg-less. Brings down the décor if you ask me..." Remus laughed and rolled his eyes.
"Harry is just behind this door, Moony," Sirius went on excitedly.
Remus grinned. "Yeah, I know." He stuck out an index finger and rang the doorbell.
They waited. A television was blaring from somewhere inside the house—it sounded like some sort of cartoon. Finally, after what seemed like hours to a very impatient Sirius Black, the door opened presenting Petunia Dursley just as Sirius and Remus remembered her: pursed lips, long giraffe neck, horse face and all.
"Can I help you?" she asked rudely.
Remus cleared his throat—it had already been agreed upon that Remus would deal with Petunia, since Sirius would just make things really bad. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Dursley. I doubt you remember us, but we were good friends with Lily."
Petunia's eyebrows rose into her blonde hair, and her mouth dropped open in realization. "You!" she hissed. "What are you people doing here?" She looked around the wizards as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them. Sirius and Remus looked around as well, confused.
"Er, yes, us people. Listen, Petunia," Sirius started, forgetting all about the agreement, "we're here for Harry. Where is he?"
Petunia drew up to her full height—which was still considerably shorter than the two men standing before her. "He's out back, weeding the garden," she said in a superior tone. It was Sirius' and Remus' turn to do the eyebrow raising.
"He's... weeding the garden?" Remus questioned unbelievingly.
"That's what I said."
Sirius looked at Remus quickly. He could tell his friend's temper was rising, though he was hiding it well. Sirius had a bit more trouble with that. "And why, exactly, is a five-year-old weeding the garden?" he asked through clenched teeth. He was trying to stay calm... really...
"That boy needs to be taught his freakishness is not welcome here."
Sirius' face was steadily growing red. He heard Remus take in a deep calming breath.
"His... freakishness?" Remus asked in an oddly tense voice.
"That's right," Petunia replied snottily. "We took that boy in after my freak—sister—and that good for nothing husband of hers went and got themselves—blown up. We said we'd stamp that freakishness out of him, but the older he gets, the freakier he gets. You can take the boy, and may he never darken our doorstep again!"
This was too much... Petunia Dursley had just made the worst mistake she could think of making: she had insulted Remus and Sirius' family. She insulted the Potters. Nobody insulted the Potters.
Sirius whipped out his wand before he knew what he was doing, but Remus held his arm back. Sirius glanced at him confused for a second. This was before he saw the look on Remus' face; Sirius had never seen Remus so angry before... ever...
"Petunia. I am giving you three seconds to tell us where Harry is. Once those three seconds are over, my friend and I will not hesitate to curse you straight to hell," Remus said in a quiet voice through clenched teeth.
Petunia paled. She looked between the wand in Sirius' hand and Remus; it was hard to tell which she feared more. "He-he's in the b-backyard," she whispered quietly and fearfully.
Remus pushed past her, knocking her into the wall. Sirius, on the other hand, stayed where he was, glaring at Lily's sister. How can this—thing—be Lily's sister? he wondered.
"Sirius, come on," Remus said sternly.
Sirius looked from Petunia to his friend who had an unreadable expression on his face, nodded stiffly, and followed Remus, placing his wand back in his pocket. They walked through the immaculately clean living room finding a boy, who looked to be at least eight or nine due to his size, shoving a chocolate bar into his mouth. Remus shook his head.
Disgusting, he thought, as the boy stared at the wizards stupidly.
The two found the kitchen, thus finding the door to the backyard. Through the window, they could clearly see a small boy with untidy black hair bent over in the garden. Both men felt their hearts drop into their stomachs.
James' son... My best friend's son being used as a house-elf, Remus thought.
This is all my fault, Sirius thought.
"Come on, the sooner we get him out of here, the better," Remus said quietly. Sirius nodded silently.
They went out the backdoor slowly, and approached Harry's small, very thin, form.
"Harry?" Remus said quietly. Harry jumped and turned around. Sirius and Remus had to fight to keep their jaws dropping at the sight of his eyes—Lily's eyes...
Harry looked up at the two men standing over him. His pale face was sweaty and dirty from working in the garden, but fear was evident. He stayed crouched on the ground. Sirius and Remus knelt before him.
"Hello, Harry," Sirius said in a choked voice. It took all he had not to pick Harry up and hold him tightly for the rest of Sirius' life, but he resisted—Sirius didn't want to scare him.
Harry gulped. "H-hi," he said in a barely audible whisper.
Remus glanced at Sirius and back at the small boy. He tried to smile comfortingly, but was sure he failed miserably. "Harry, my name is Remus. This is my friend, Sirius. We are—er—were friends of your parents," Remus painfully corrected himself. He noticed Sirius wince next to him, but Harry didn't seem to notice anything odd about their behavior. He stared at Remus with wide eyes.
"You knew my parents?" he asked in an almost awed whisper.
Sirius smiled and nodded sadly. "Yes, we knew them." He couldn't stop looking into Harry's eyes.
"Harry," Remus began—they needed to get out of here soon, before one of them did something drastic to Mrs. Petunia Dursley. "We're here to take you away. Away from your Aunt and Uncle. Would you like to come with us?"
Harry's eyes widened even further, and his jaw dropped. Sirius and Remus watched for long—excruciatingly long—minutes, as Harry studied the two men, debating on what to do. Finally, he asked in an anxious whisper, "Go where?"
Remus smiled slightly. "Well, first we are going to go visit a friend of ours, and then we are going to go to Hogwarts. Do you know what Hogwarts is, Harry?"
Harry shook his head.
"Big surprise, there," Sirius muttered so that only Remus heard him.
Remus ignored him. "Hogwarts is our old school. That's where we met your mum and dad," he explained.
Harry nodded, still thinking. "Then where?" he asked in an even quieter voice than before.
"Then, we'll go to my home. Is that okay with you?"
Harry looked away from Remus and to the ground. His voice was so quiet this time, that if Remus and Sirius didn't the exceptional hearing they did, they would have missed it. "For how long?"
"Forever," Sirius replied immediately.
Harry looked up, and Remus could have sworn he saw a small smile on the child's face, but he could have been wrong. Harry's brow furrowed in thought for some more minutes. Finally, he nodded. Remus and Sirius had been studying Harry intently; otherwise they would have missed the answer.
Remus and Sirius smiled in both relief and complete happiness.
Remus stood, glancing at the expression on Sirius' face, and held out a hand to Harry. "Okay then, shall we go?"
Sirius stood and Harry followed, taking Remus' hand. Remus led the three of them back into the house, and into the kitchen. Petunia must have taken her kid upstairs, he thought. Good idea...
Remus looked down at Harry who had stopped dead in his tracks, shaking, scanning the kitchen fearfully.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Remus asked, concerned.
Harry raised his head, his emerald green eyes wide and wet with tears. "I-I didn't finish the garden. Uncle Vernon'll be mad..." he trailed off.
"Don't you worry about him, Harry. You'll never have to see any of these people again. Okay?" Sirius said from behind Remus and Harry.
Harry turned around and gave him a small smile. Sirius smiled back reassuringly, taking Harry's other hand.
Remus smiled as well. "Okay, Harry, where's your bedroom? We'll get your things and go." Remus wasn't looking forward to going upstairs to where Petunia was, but they needed to get Harry's things.
Harry let go of their hands, and led them not to the stairs, but to a small cupboard under the stairs. Remus and Sirius watched as Harry opened the door, walked in, and rummaged around inside. The two wizards exchanged a confused look.
"Er, Harry? What are you doing?" Remus asked.
Harry stuck his head out the door. "Getting my things," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Why are your things in here, Harry?" Sirius asked, perplexed.
Harry had gone back to digging through the cupboard once more. "This is my room," was the response.
Sirius' temper began to rise again. Next to him, Remus closed his eyes tightly and shook his head in disbelief. They looked into the cupboard and saw a small cot covered with a single thin sheet, and a battered, dirty pillow at the head of the makeshift bed. Old clothes that were, obviously, not Harry's to begin with were strewn around it. Sirius breath was becoming raspy and fast. It wasn't much different from his cell in Azkaban: dark, musty, small, and dirty. Harry deserved so much better than this...
After a few more minutes, Remus and Sirius backed away from the cupboard as Harry emerged. He was carrying a pillowcase full of old clothes in one hand, and held gently in the other, was an old photograph.
"What's that, Harry?" Remus asked gently, gesturing to the photo.
Harry hesitated, but held the photo out to the two men. It was an old Muggle photo of a twelve-year-old redheaded, green-eyed girl. Remus and Sirius felt tears reach their eyes. "I... I'm not supposed to have it. I found it cleaning Aunt Petunia's room," Harry said quietly. "I thought it was pretty..." He looked between both men thinking he'd upset them.
Remus smiled. "It's okay, Harry. We have a lot more pictures of your mum, and your dad, if you'd like to see them." Harry gave them the biggest smile they had seen yet from him—which still wasn't much. "Come on," Remus continued, "we need to go."
Harry smiled and took Sirius' outstretched hand—Remus had taken the pillowcase full of clothes, but gave the photo back to Harry. The three left Number Four, Privet Drive and headed for Arabella's home.
Remus looked back and saw Petunia's bony face staring at them from an upstairs window. She disappeared the moment she saw Remus glaring back. Remus had to try hard not to take a leaf from Sirius' book and curse the Dursleys...
Finally, they arrived back at Arabella's house. The old woman was waiting on the front porch. She smiled at Harry. "Hello, Harry, how are you?" she asked.
Harry was obviously bewildered as to why they were visiting his babysitter's house, but he answered her dutifully, "Good, Mrs. Figg. How are you?"
"I am doing very well, Harry. Thank you for asking," she said kindly. Harry looked up at Remus and Sirius as Arabella addressed them. "Come inside. The portkey is here. Dumbledore wanted you back as soon as you got here."
Sirius led Harry through Arabella's home. "Wait here," Arabella said once they reached the living room. She walked into the kitchen briskly, and was back a second later holding a ceramic flowerpot. She handed it to Remus.
"It will activate in thirty seconds," Arabella informed them. Harry had no idea what she was talking about; what would activate? "You three take care now. I might come and visit some time."
"Thank you, Arabella," Remus said, smiling at the old woman. "Harry, I need you to put your hand on the flowerpot, okay?"
Harry nodded apprehensively, put his photo in his too big jeans, and placed his now free hand on the flowerpot.
Sirius said goodbye to Arabella and began the countdown for the portkey. "Ten... nine... eight... seven... hold on there, Harry... four... three... two... one..."
All three felt their feet fly from the floor with a jerk at their navels.
He'd been so close...
So close to having Harry Potter in his hands…
So close to becoming the most revered Death Eater ever.
But now... everything was ruined.
Wormtail stood behind a bush, just feet away from where the boy was moments ago. But he hesitated. Why did he have to hesitate?
He'd almost transformed and grabbed Harry the moment the backdoor opened and they walked outside. It would have been too late, though. Not only would he not have the boy, but he was more than positive Sirius and Remus would have killedhim on the spot. If he would have only taken the boy the moment he'd come out to the garden, everything would have worked out perfectly. But he hesitated.
Dammit, Wormtail thought angrily.
Still in his rat form, Wormtail hurried through Privet Drive back in the direction of London.
He was going to see Lucius Malfoy...