Author's Note: No reviews yet… but then again I just posted a few hours ago, so what do you expect. Lol!

Petroselinum

Chapter Two: Speaking In Tongues

"Never tell a young person that anything cannot be done. God may have been waiting centuries for someone ignorant enough of the impossible to do that very thing." – John Andrew Holmes

The first thing Harry saw when he woke up was two large amber eyes staring into his. He yelped and scrambled backwards, hitting his head on the wall and eliciting a startled shriek from the bird and a yell of pain from himself. Hedwig flapped up off of her perch on the side of the mattress, giving one last shriek as she settled on the dresser across the room, miffed.

Harry, meanwhile, was breathing a sigh of relief. He pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them, hands forward and carelessly dangling.

"Geez, Hedwig," He sighed, feeling more than hearing the loud pulse in his neck and wrists. "You scared me half to death."

Hedwig fluffed her feathers once and hooted dolefully.

Harry rubbed his head. A large lump was forming there, adding more pain, which, he realized, was still there from yesterday. He gently eased his head back and rested it on the wall, shutting his eyes against the light coming in through the window. For some reason, all the light was really bothering him…

He opened his eyes when he felt a reassuring weight settle on his knee and a gentle nip on his finger. He smiled at his pet, and absently stroked her white feathers as he stared at the wall of his room, not really thinking about anything.

"Sirius might've had a remedy or something for this," He mumbled to Hedwig, who cocked her head to the side and gazed at her master. "He'd've… he'd've run out of headache relief potion, I bet," He said, giving a low chuckle. "And probably given me something for hangovers."

The snowy owl nibbled on his finger as he spoke.

"You know… I bet he woulda had quite a bit of that, 'eh, Hedwig?"

Hedwig hooted softly, shuffling on his knobby knee and nuzzling her feathered crest on his hand. Harry barked out a laugh that was strangely reminiscent of Sirius's.

Harry's stomach was growling, feeling very, very empty. He paid it no mind, making a mental note to run downstairs and grab some toast later.

An ache was thudding relentlessly in his temples now, and a strange squeezing feeling was enveloping his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the pain. Tilting his head back again, he exhaled. It puffed out in a gold cloud that hovered in the air above him. Harry blinked sleepily.

Wait…

What!

Harry jumped off the bed, moving away from the golden mist so fast that Hedwig fell from her perch, accidentally scraping his skin through his tattered, hand-me-down cotton pajama bottoms. She screeched indignantly, flapping and sending feathers everywhere, but Harry wasn't paying attention to her. He knelt on the floor beside the bed, staring at the breath he'd blown out. It was scattering now, the little golden speckles of air sifting and dying out.

Experimentally, he pursed his lips and blew. A rush of cool golden air hung in his room like frosted breath on a cold night, rustling a lock of his unruly black hair. Harry stared, emerald eyes wide. Trembling, he reached out and skimmed the gold patch of air with his fingertips.

A strange tingling sensation overtook his fingers as soon as they touched. Harry withdrew sharply, inspecting them. Visibly, nothing was wrong, but the feeling remained, slowly dwindling as the puff of breath melted into the rest of the air. Harry stared at his fingers, flexing them, and suddenly felt his head begin to spin. He stumbled to his feet, making his way toward his door on wobbly legs. He practically fell into the door, grasping the knob with limp fingers and twisting it harshly. It didn't move.

Harry squinted down at the tarnished bronze knob, shaking it violently and pulling on it. It wouldn't give. The boy leaned on the door, trying to focus his eyes.

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry yelled through the wood. "Come on, Uncle Vernon, unlock the door!"

He heard startled, frightened gasps and squeaks on the other side, and he grit his teeth.

"Uncle Vernon!" He yelled again, uncomfortably aware of how his breath was coming out in golden mists as he spoke. "I swear, you let me out now or –"

"Stop!" Cried the terrified voice of his aunt. Harry paused, trying to hear through the ringing in his ears.

"D-Don't y-you yell at us in tha-that horrible… WIZARD VOICE!" Uncle Vernon stuttered, sounding both enraged and scared stiff.

"What!" Harry said incredulously. "What the hell do you mean, Vernon? I'm speaking plain English, you fat oaf!"

"DON'T YOU THREATEN MY FAMILY, BOY! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE SAYING, BUT KEEP AWAY!"

"Uncle Ver – Damn, this is stupid!" Harry growled. He couldn't even stand properly now; he was leaning heavily on his door, and his words were slurring. His vision, already affected by the bright light, was fuzzy though he was wearing his glasses, and his head was pounding. It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing tight over Harry's chest, and Harry was taking ragged breaths.

"Petunia, get Dudley and go!" He heard Uncle Vernon say to the other two members of the Dursley family. He could tell that they complied because Dudley's thunderous footfalls shook the floor of Harry's room.

"Boy," Vernon was close to the door now, and he was speaking in a low, dangerous voice. "I don't know what you've been doing in there, sleeping for half a week, but you better be damn glad that we made you write out those notes for your freaky friends beforehand. They would have come and got you, and we would've been blamed for your… bizarre sickness!"

"You're crazy, Uncle Vernon. How could I sleep a week? I - "

"I don't know what you think you're up to, you freak, but you're not hurting my family!"

The doorknob turned in Harry's loose grasp of it, and the door opened. Startled, the raven-haired youth fell with a thud onto the floor, right at his uncle's feet. His head hit the hardwood, and he grimaced as he hit the exact spot he'd banged that morning.

"Ouch…" He moaned. Vernon gasped and went white before turning magnificent plum.

"What… what did you just say to me!" He demanded furiously.

"I didn't say anything to you, I just said 'ouch'," Harry responded through gritted teeth.

Vernon gave another livid gasp, and nudged Harry roughly with his shoe.

"Get up. You're leaving."

"What!" Harry exclaimed, squinting with watery, pained eyes up at his uncle. He still hadn't moved from the floor, and the stress on his chest was increasing. "You can't do that, you know you can't!"

Uncle Vernon seemed to get – if that was possible – redder. His face twisted and he grabbed Harry by the collar, carrying the sixteen-year-old out at arms length, apparently paranoid to have much physical contact with him. He thundered down the steps, which wheezed in sympathy with Harry. The teen was struggling to catch his breath and to fight back, but was no match for the obese man.

When Vernon stepped into the garage and out of the main house with Harry in tow, Harry thought he had died. Apparently, the garage didn't officially count as the home of Number Four, Privet Drive. 'Another mistake, Dumbledore...'

It wasn't as horrible as the pain he'd experience at the Ministry, trapped as a prisoner in his own mind as Voldemort took control of him, but it was close. Harry fell to his knees on the steps, clutching his stomach with one arm and holding his head with the other. He bit his lip so as not to cry out, and thick trail of blood trickled down his chin. Vernon stared at him, unsure what to do. The last thing Harry thought before he fell unconscious was, 'Sirius…'

Vernon watched the boy practically convulse with pain on the steps of his garage. He hovered above him, hesitant. Deciding that it was probably because that Potter kid had done something magical and it was getting punished, he just watched. For freaks, they gave damn good punishments.

He practically sighed with relief when the nuisance passed out.

He dragged the unconscious Potter over to the car and pushed him into the back seat. Sure, he had a large, manly physique, but that didn't mean he could haul heavy things like teenage boys everywhere he pleased. He snorted disdainfully as he got into the front seat (the car dipped as he sat) and turned the ignition. With the remote control he opened the garage door and backed the car out, and it mechanically closed it behind him. He made sure not to look around too suspiciously. Potter had hinted that his freaky gang of perverted "humans" were watching Privet Drive. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing stopped him from exiting.

He drove for an hour, not quite sure where he was going, but knowing what he was looking for. Suddenly, as he was reaching the outskirts of nowhere, he gave a satisfied smiled. Here we go… perfect.

He pulled over on the side of a small, forsaken gravel road, stepping over the large, fuzzy weeds that were growing wildly in between the rocks. On either side of the unused path were fields of tall, overgrown grasses. They sloped down from the road at a steep incline, and here and there were muddy patches from recent rain. Vernon reached down and touched one long blade lightly, letting loose a hiss as the sharp edge slit his chubby finger in a harsh, paper-cut sort of wound. He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked while moving back to the car, opening the back door. He pulled out his unconscious nephew, trying as much as he could not to touch the limp form. Don't touch disgusting things, motto twenty-seven of the Dursley Morals Handbook, Vernon remembered fondly. He and Dudley studied every night, before Bible studies, of course. Well, sometimes. If Dudder-butters was tired they skipped Bible studies.

Vernon held Harry out in front of him, and unceremoniously dropped him on the gravel. Then, with a forceful nudge, Harry fell down the hill, rolling and picking up speed with momentum. Vernon watched the skinny form of his unnatural nephew slow to a stop, and he gave a strangled sigh of relief. When the boy woke up, he'd be dead, and gone forever. The world would be a better place, and everything would be well again, Vernon was sure of it.

How wrong he was...

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Author's Note: Okay! Two chapters for the opening:-P Well, hopefully I'll get a chapter done a week, because I'll write on Saturdays and Sundays. Please review!