Chapter Seven

New Hopes, Old Scars

"It's a good thing you came back on a weekend." Dudley said as Harry walked into the kitchen the next morning. Harry glanced at Dudley who was sipping coffee calmly at the table, a newspaper lay opened before him and a very large plate of food beside it. Joan was humming to herself, cooking up something.

"Why's that?" Harry groaned, flopping down in the chair across from Dudley. A cup appeared by his arm and he began drinking a strong bitter brew inside it. "Nice." He muttered, he could almost feel it burning a hole in his stomach, but it did manage to open his eyes, if not stop that dreadful pounding of drums in his head.

"Because any other day I wouldn't be able to drink you under the table." Dudley continued grinning. He looked obscenely cheerful and alert.

"It's about the only thing he's good at." Joan said, setting a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, and potatoes before Harry. "Eat up and don't you dare say you're not hungry."

Harry sighed, feeling his stomach rumble, but not from hunger, he looked around. "Where are the kids?" He asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Jelly's at a birthday party. There's supposed to be clowns, a pony, and all sorts of fun and games." Dudley said, digging into his food.

Joan rolled her eyes. "It's amazing what Muggles find humorous for their kids. Those clowns, though, they look more frightening than funny." She took a sip of her coffee, wincing at its bitter taste, then pouring a large quantity of cream and sugar into it. "The first time I saw one of those things, I nearly ran screaming out the room." She continued.

Dudley smirked. "She did go running out of the room screaming, took nearly two hours to coax her out of the coat closet she hid in."

"So, Harry." Joan said, changing the subject and shooting a glare at Dudley's direction. "What's on your agenda today?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm just waiting for some people to arrive, get a few more things into order, then get a few chores done." He said, finally digging into his food. It actually was very good, even on a protesting stomach. Harry wondered briefly how Dudley managed not to balloon back up to his old weight with Joan cooking his meals. Harry always seemed to have to let out his belt after every visit.

Dudley watched him intently. "What kind of chores?" He asked slowly.

"You know the usual. Taking out the rubbish and cleaning up." Harry grinned faintly. "Have to meet a few old friends later tonight, they're coming in from all over."

Joan was frowning. "You're slowly becoming like Dumbledore, y'know that? You make these almost cryptic responses, never coming out and saying what you really want to say." Harry flinched, but he knew she was right.

"You want to know the truth?" Harry set aside his fork and sighed, watching the two people who were pretty much the only family he had left. "There's this murdering bastard named Asedemon with a few powerful followers and small army of minions. Very original in his goals though, not only does he want to conquer the world, but he also wants to kill off all the Muggles and create a society where there's only pureblood Witches and Wizards. Remind you of anyone?" Harry laughed darkly. "The thing is that he's found a way to take the life energy from people, mainly Muggles. People are killed around him and he sucks it up, making himself more powerful in the process. Though that power gets used up pretty fast and he needs to gain more of it, meaning more killing of people."

"The killing people for power thing was something new we didn't know. All we knew was that a lot of people tended to die when this bastard came to a place." Harry shook his head, suddenly struck by the image of the bloodied, broken bodies of his friends. "We hit his place in Dublin, killed a few of his people, one of his Lieutenants and probably drained what power he managed to get off those poor bastards he had just killed. He killed three of my people, injured two, without breaking a sweat. We barely managed to get out of that damned mess. Don't know where he is now." Harry looked up.

Joan's eyes were wide and Dudley looked very pale and very queasy. He shoved away his plate of food. "Christ." Dudley whispered.

Harry set his elbows upon the table, dropping his head into his hands. "It does no good telling you this shit. All it'll do is make you worry like hell and cause more harm than good. Telling things truthfully usually does that." Harry sighed, glancing at the two. "I'll get this bastard and all will be back to normal, you won't even notice a thing wrong. It'll be back to peace and quiet again, at least until the next one comes along." Harry laughed again, cold and humorless.

" I should have kept my mouth closed." Joan said, taking a convulsive gulp of coffee.

Dudley laughed. "That's the fist time I've seen anyone shut her up."

"How can you laugh and make jokes at a time like this?" Joan demanded angrily.

"How can I not? There's that or wail in terror and sob underneath my bed." Dudley said seriously. "Plus, we all know Harry's gonna slag this ass." He shot a thumbs up sign to Harry, who only nodded back bleakly.

"I'll do my best." Harry said, draining his cup.

"You damn better well.' Dudley said. "Jelly's not gonna grow up without a uncle to spoil her rotten, cuz I sure as hell won't, and Vernon's gonna need someone to teach him to ride a broom when he gets older. You think I can do that? The only thing Joan knows about brooms is that they're used for sweeping."

Harry smiled. "I guess my life's not mine to forfeit." He said.

"You sure as hell right it isn't." Dudley thumped his arm upon the table. "It's mine to do with as I see fit. It's just on loan to you for the moment.."

Harry nodded slowly. "Actually that was one of the reasons I can here." He said, levitating the bag he had been carrying around to the table. "Dumbledore decided to be generous and paid me up front." He unlatched the bag and pulled out a small wooden box. "I'll never be able to repay what you've done for me, Dudley. But this goes a long way to making things right between us."

Dudley shook his head. "I was just kidding, Harry." He began.

Harry opened the wooden box and a soft golden light infused the room. Joan gasped, eyes wide. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked softly.

"What is it?" Dudley asked, peering into the box.

"Philosopher's Stone."

XXX

"How did you get…where did you…Wait a minute! That bag was sitting in the living room all night!" Joan cried. "Someone could have just come in an taken it. Angie could have dug into it!"

"What's a philosophy stone?" Dudley asked.

"Philosopher's Stone." Harry corrected. "The epitome of alchemy. It can give you immortal life and it can turn any metal into pure gold. Very powerful magic."

Dudley was nodding, not looking impressed. "Who'd want to live forever?" He asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his coffee.

"I know of several people who would, but they're not exactly the nicest people in the world." Harry said, snapping the wooden box shut. The golden light faded and Joan blinked shaking her head.

"And Dumbledore just gave that to you?" She asked, incredulity heavy in her voice.

Harry smiled. "Let's just say the old man owed me." He said simply. He sat back down and sighed.

Dudley was watching him, a thoughtful frown on his face. "So." He said after a moment. "What are you offering us? Immortality? All the gold we want?"

Harry shook his head. "Like you said, who'd want to live forever? Gold? Wealth can never buy the things you really want. No. What I'm offering you is a cure, or at least as much of a cure as possible." He said.

Dudley glanced at Joan who suddenly gasped, realizing what was possible with a stone that could hold back death. "Is it possible?" She asked. "I mean…is it possible?"

"I've spoken with several healers from across the world. Even with Flamel and Dumbledore a couple of years ago. They all agree that with the Philosopher's Stone there's a very good chance that the sickness could be halted, maybe even pushed back. For an entire cure…I'm not sure." Dudley stared at the wooden box, his face expressionless. Harry understood his thoughtfulness, too many times he had returned with a promise of a cure. Too many times they had been disappointed. But now. Now they had the Philosopher's Stone.

"How certain are you?" Dudley asked.

Harry glanced down at the box. "Certain enough. There's no real way to know until we try it. I'm not promising anything." He said.

Joan settled a hand upon Dudley's shoulder, concern and a little hope shining in her eyes. "What do you think, Dudley?"

"Hope springs eternal. That's what I think. What do I have besides hope?" He grinned momentarily. "Do it then. Let's see what this philosophy stone of yours can do. Hopefully it won't be as bad as some of your other miracle cures." The words were made in jest, but Harry could hear the underlying anger. "So how do you use it? Eat it?"

Harry shook his head. "No. The Stone is basically that, a stone. It's in its raw form, nothing more than potential. We're going to have to distill it further, to make the potion we need." He looked to Joan who was already nodding.

"I got my potions lab still set up. What do you need?" She asked.

Harry dug into the pockets of the bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and handed it to her. Joan read it and frowned. "This all?" She asked.

Harry grinned. "Sometimes the simplest things are the most powerful." He said.

"I can whip this up in a few minutes, maybe half an hour." She pecked Dudley on the cheek and carefully picked up the small box, walking slowly out of the kitchen.

Dudley watched her go, sighing. "She's more into these cures than I am. I think she just likes brewing the potions. She's gotten really good at them these last couple of years." He said, picking up his cup and taking a long sip.

"Well, she loves you. What do you expect?" Harry said, pushing around the eggs upon his plate. He cleared his throat. "How's your arm?"

Dudley flexed his left arm. "About how it's always been. Black, shrunken, and hurting like hell." He shrugged. "Three times a week I have to drink that swill that Joan makes. Tastes like fried hell and I've never understood the phrase 'the cure's worst than the disease' until I began drinking that shit." He grinned.

"Can I see?" Harry asked.

Dudley grinned again. "Come to see the freak show, have you?" But he was already unbuttoning his shirt.

"How can you be happy all the time?" Harry asked.

"How can you be such a miserable git all the time? It's either laugh or cry. I've cried enough to last me. For now, I'll just enjoy what life gives me. A good wife, two lovely children, and a decent job that I like." He pulled off his shirt and extended his left arm upon the table. "Take a gander. It's guaranteed to turn you stomach, make little kids scream, grown men faint, and curdle milk up to ten feet away."

Harry pushed aside this cup and plate, smiling faintly. "Trust me, I've seen worst. Has it been hurting badly lately?" He asked.

Dudley shrugged. "The usual deep throbbing pain, occasional lightning flashes of agony, but nothing really different. It's amazing the things you can get use to after a while. We saw a doctor at St. Mungos a couple of weeks back when things got really bad. They recommended some potion to keep the pain away, but when I tried it, it only made me sleepy and exhausted. So I've been without it."

Harry nodded looking at Dudley's exposed arm. It looked like a regular limb; everything about it was normal, or as normal as Harry could make it. A lot of magic had gone into making the arm so that Dudley could feel with it and use it regularly. Harry hesitated for a moment and touched the arm with his wand, a second later the pale flesh vanished, replaced with a sickening looking stub.

Dudley sighed. "Sometimes I can almost pretend it's not there." He whispered.

From the shoulder to the elbow the skin was taunt and black. The muscle gone and the arm comically stick thin. From the elbow onward, there was nothing left. The potions kept the sickens at bay, but Harry knew the sickness continued to have hold on the flesh and bone. A sickness that had all the healers stumped and one that managed to defeat cure after countless cure. Always growing stronger. Ten years now, ten years that Dudley had carried around the payment for Harry's mistake.

Harry tried to push away the thoughts and concentrated upon the arm. Everything looked normal. There were no signs of the sickness spreading beyond the arm, meaning that it had not managed to adapt to the potion. Too many times that had happen, where the sickness managed to adapt and change, making more strides into Dudley's flesh.

"Pretty sight ain't it?" Dudley muttered, his voice strained and his gaze fixed upon the wall clock across the kitchen.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, tapping his wand upon the arm and the illusion returned. Dudley sighed with relief, flexing the arm.

"I know it's not real, but it feels real." He said, using his left hand to pick up his cup of coffee.

Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling exhausted. "Well the good thing is that the infection hasn't spread. The potion it seems is still holding out."

"Hooray." Dudley remarked sarcastically. Harry sighed. "Don't!" Dudley warned.

"Don't what?" Harry asked.

"I know that damn sigh when I hear it." Dudley said. "Oh, Dudley! I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen!" He said imitating Harry in a high falsetto voice.

Harry had to laugh. "Do I really sound like that?"

"No. You sound worst." Dudley said, draining his cup. He quickly pulled his shirt back on." What happened, happened. We can't fix it and wishing for things to have turned out better won't help. All we can do is to continue on with what we have, otherwise we'll spend all the good days regretting things we had no control over."

Harry nodded. "Philosophy from Dudley. Now I've heard it all." He grinned.

"Always see the brighter side of things. That's what I say."

"That's s-" Harry began but then there was knocking upon the front door.

Dudley sighed. "You know every time we try to have a conversation it always gets interrupted. If this isn't an emergency I'm gonna skin this little bugger and hang him from the lamppost outside." Dudley said rising to his feet and heading for the front door. Moments later. "Harry! Someone wants to see you."

Cautiously Harry proceeded to the door. He stopped in the hall; wand drawn and then saw who it was. With a snarl he stalked to the door and grabbed the person by the front of his robes. Robes! Could he not even have changed! Then pulled him into the house, slamming the door and nearly throwing him across the floor.

"What the hell are you doing here! How the hell did you find this place!" Harry yelled.

Dennis Creevey looked up at Harry; fear clearly etched in his face.