xXxEDITING PROCESS (7/11/09)xXx

Chapter 2: Oddness all Around

The heat was truly terrible Sunday morning.

During his chores, Harry finished hosing down the Dursley's van and let the spray of water purposely drench him. Dripping wet and completely satisfied with it, he dropped the dirtied sponge into the brown foamy bucket and glanced down the driveway.

The water hit the black concrete, making it bubble with smoke and Harry

watched a figure emerge from the rays of the sun and hazy shroud of vapor. He couldn't make it out clearly. An invasion of arms threw themselves around his body, slender and feminine...somehow he was thankful they were feminine...as a pair of curved lips touched his own chapped pair. Electricity flooded throughout his bloodstream, charged with hope and reckless abandonment. The passion this held was roaring, frenzying his nerves, his ears were ringing. Harry closed his eyes and could smell the scent of -

A loud BANG jolted Harry out of his trance. He opened his glazed eyes to see that. . .there was no girl embracing and kissing him. Harry touched his lips with the pads of his fingertips, very sure they were unbruised. He came to the conclusion very quickly that it must have been an hallucination of the heat. . .he had been outside without water for quite some time. . .

Dudely, who had caused the bang by slamming open the back door, ambled out of the house, cracking his knuckles.

"How about letting me practice my new punch now, Potter?"

Harry, no longer feeling dazed or distracted, murmured, "Don't you ever give up?" His cousin's fat face beamed maliciously as he took a step forward in Harry's direction. Suddenly, a prickle of apprehension rose in Harry's stomach--but it had not been Dudley's doing. Something deep inside him thought he should look inside the Dursley's house.

Dudley frowned. "Where the hell are you going?" Harry shushed him as he peered through the open back windows. His cousin followed suit, very confused, until they were both craning to stare into the family room where Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were sitting together, talking in a hushed manner.

"I don't understand it," his uncle stated.

Aunt Petunia said fretfully, wringing her hands, "The boy was not lying. I saw some strange characters the other day passing our neighborhood. Obviously from THAT sort of crowd."

Uncle Vernon scratched his mustache. "Did it remind you of...HER?" Harry stiffened and set his mouth in a grim line, as did his aunt.

"That it did Vernon."

He began turning dark red around his neck, his jugular vein popping, "Then we'll throw him out into the streets!"

"We can't," Aunt Petunia insisted, waving her hands at him in a sad attempt to make him lower his roar of a voice, "The neighbors would be suspicious...imagine the gossip..."

His uncle began then scratching the bald spot on the middle of his head, reminding Harry very much of an ape at the zoo he had been taken to before his time at Hogwarts. "Now... what was that thingy the boy mentioned before...a...Moldymosts, was it?"

She frowned severely, speaking with an unnatural sort of ease for someone who had no tolerance for other magical words like 'broom' or 'Hogwarts', "Voldemort."

"Yes, but what is it?"

Aunt Petunia made an exhausted noise through her horsy teeth. "It's a Dark Wizard. It's after him Vernon."

"Good!" Uncle Vernon now started looking cheerful. "Let it have him! Why should we care?"

Harry was thinking the same question. Why should the Dursleys, who haven't treated him even remotely nice in any way, bother with concern?

Aunt Petunia wiped her bony forehead with her bony hand. "After we got the boy, I was told to keep him here until he was ready to go off on his own. To keep him safe and out of harms way until then."

"By who?" Uncle Vernon asked.

Her worried expression tightened into one of blankness. "It's nothing for you to trifle over, dearest." Uncle Vernon followed her at her heels, still questioning as she stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Harry turned away from the window.

She DID know something! He had a very clear memory of how he mentioned Voldemort before. . .her face draining of color. . .petrified. . .

His reverie was broken as Dudley grabbed him by the collar, and shook him furiously. "Look what you've done to my parents, Potter. I'll get you back, I swear--!" His cousin swung back an arm to strike him. Harry's anger boiled over.

The next thing he knew, Dudley was gone. Then came a distinct oinking sound.

Harry looked down to see a rather large potbellied pig with a realistic blonde wig slipping over its ears looking up at him mortified. He would have laughed, laughed until his sides split open, if the very real concept of getting expelled from Hogwarts had not crossed his mind.

Without warning, Dudley transformed back. He gaped wildly at Harry who grabbed his sponge and pail to run for it, leaving Dudley in his amazement.

-

Another afternoon in August.

Much hotter then July, and the plant life couldn't be greener in Privet Drive. The Dursleys were smart enough to stay in the air-conditioned home, but unfortunately, Harry was stuck doing outside chores since waking up that morning. He finished mowing the front and back lawn and started on scopping up the bags of glass clippings, heavily sweating and panting. All morning, something had been building up inside him, pulsing in his throat as a nasty lump since seven am, since leaving his nightmare behind once he regained consciousness. . .

Sirius. . .

Harry coughed weakly, brushing away the warmth gathering from his eyes with his fingertips. Disorientated by the never-ending heat and his muddled state, he lost his balance lugging the last bag and fell over onto the pile of clippings. As grass stains developed onto his jeans, as the sun continued to beat down on him, Harry couldn't even feel the tears escaping him.

As he coughed again, Aunt Petunia appeared out of nowhere in her pink fluffy apron, putting her hands on her hips. Harry expected her to start shrieking at him about being lazy and a crybaby on top of it all but she merely ordered calmly, "Get inside and sit down."

He had no choice but to obey, fearing that disagreeing would bring on her temper, and who was he to refuse a chance to leave the heat?

Getting to his feet, Harry stumbled dizzily, reaching to get the bag and Aunt Petunia slapped his hands firmly, "Leave it."

Uncle Vernon and Dudley were not at home as Harry sat down in the kitchen. They were both out of town for a boxing match until eight that evening. Aunt Petunia stood over Harry as he took a napkin to wipe his face. She eyed him, her two front horsy teeth biting into her lower lip.

"So...is something the matter...?"

Harry gawked at her, hardly believing that she was acting like a motherly figure to him while keeping a straight face. Was this a trick?

Slowly, he nodded to her and she sat down in the chair across from him, folding her hands in front of her patiently. When Harry opened his mouth to speak, a much louder and nastier cough came instead of words. Harry hastily covered his mouth.

Aunt Petunia eyed him again, waiting until his fits passed before saying, "Go upstairs. Your chores are done for the day. If you decide to get hungry, there is egg salad in the refrigerator." He goggled at her once more but obeyed.

From his bedroom window, Harry watched his aunt pick up his mess outside, looking perfectly content to do so.

. . .what a summer this was turning out to be.

-

Around the time the sun set, Harry heard the Dursley van pull up the gravel driveway. Changed into fresh clothes and cooled down, and had snuck a bit of egg salad from downstairs, he felt much better and mentally prepared for dealing with his blood relatives. He waited for someone to yell for him to get downstairs and it was his uncle that did the honors.

At the dinner table, Dudley already had his seat, a huge gold metal on his piggy neck. From beside their son, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley hovered around him, sniffing proudly. Dudley had looked a tad modest at the constant praisings as Harry sat down. Something welled in Harry's gut--something he couldn't explain quite right. As his aunt laid out plates of potatoes and meat, Harry glanced up at Dudley.

"Looks like you won the match." The Dursleys stopped eating. Harry added genuinely, "Congratulations."

He started cutting up his slab of dinner (considerably larger then he normally gotten before), very much aware of his family still oogling him. As the tension wore off, Uncle Vernon recounted the competition and Harry half listened while eating. He found that the feeling he had before was actual well-being for Dudley, of all things. Maybe Harry had felt bad about really turning Dudley into a pig in a wig last week. But surely, this was a rare moment.

"...Then they awarded him first place," Uncle Vernon concluded with a superior smirk. His wife nodded merrily, clapping her hands together.

Dudley turned to Harry, blurting out, "...eh, what's it like at that school of yours...eh, Hoggywartys or whatever?"

Everyone at the table except Dudley had dropped their utensils. Uncle Vernon's face blossomed into purple. Aunt Petunia opened and closed her mouth noiselessly. Harry fled from the room before any damage was done onto his person.

Safely in his locked bedroom, he gazed at Hedwig who clucked. "I think we're all going mad, Hedwig. I'm seeing things and hearing things." His snowy owl only blinked her amber eyes at him.

An unsure knock came from his door. Harry had not heard any screaming from downstairs or crashes. He assumed it safe to open his door. The knocker, Dudley poked his head in. "Can I come in?" He asked.

Stunned, Harry mumbled, "I....guess?" His cousin shut the door halfway behind him and stared, "So, what is Hoggywartys like?" He demanded. Harry didn't bother to correct him. He wasn't even sure if he was awake.

"It's....a lot different..." Harry said lamely.

"Dad said you had a broom..." Dudley said, piggy eyes shifting around the tiny bedroom. Harry went to closet to show him his Firebolt. His cousin brushed his flabby fingers on the wooden handle. "It looks like a broom..." Dudley looked up at Harry, "Does it fly? Let me try it!"

"Mugg...Non magic folk can't work them. Sorry. Um, why the sudden interest in my world?"

Dudley shrugged soundlessly before rushing over to Harry's owl. "What's his name?" He demanded curiously.

Harry put away his riding broom, replying vaguely, "Her name is Hedwig."

"What kind of name is that?" asked Dudley as he poked a finger in Hedwig's cage. She glared, looking greatly tempted to bite it but thought better of it. Harry decided then that visiting hours were over. He opened his bedroom door wide.

"It's from a book. So, Dudley, I don't mean to be rude or anything but I am getting tired. We'll have to have this discussion some other time."

Dudley rushed back to the doorway, protesting, "No, I was just wondering is all. I shouldn't get mixed up in this." He hurled himself downstairs.

Harry finally shut the door and locked it. He glanced back at Hedwig dubiously as he collapsed onto his bed.

"Yes...we're all going mad..."

The curious spell over Dudley didn't hold for long. In the morning, Harry was forced to do more chores as punishment for drinking extra water from the hose last week; Dudley grinned from his position on the sofa, shoving another slice of chocolate cake into his mouth.