Chapter 2

Losing Control

I dont own any characters of HP

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"POTTER!" Harry woke suddenly, his neck hurt from the way he had slept on it. He found Ron's letter on the floor from where it had fallen off the bed.

"POTTER, IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN HERE IN 10 SECONDS, YOU CAN STAY UP THERE AND STARVE TO DEATH" Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs.

Harry could smell the bacon and eggs wafting up the stairs and his stomach gave a rumble. He quickly grabbed some clothes, threw them on and bolted down the stairs. He greeted his Aunt and Uncle when he entered the kitchen but got no response from either. He grabbed a piece of toast and noticed an article on the back page of Vernon's paper: "14 people die in flash flood".

"That's odd" Harry thought to himself, "it hasn't rained in days." Voldermort had struck again and Harry knew that's what he had felt during the night, Voldermort was happy. Harry touched his tender scar and inhaled deeply it still hurt from earlier on.

"If you think you are getting out of your chores by pretending to have a headache, you can just forget about it" Uncle Vernon said while he turned the page, "We've given you everything and its time you gave something back to us. For starters, you'll do the garden, mow the lawn, do the weeds…..", but Harry had a glazed look over his eyes he was thinking about the article, Ron's letter and his headache was getting worse.

"Ouch!" the slap from the back of his head snapped him back to reality; Aunt Petunia's cold hard face was standing behind Harry. "Listen to your Uncle, when he's talking to you", she said through her thin lips.

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Later that day, Harry was in the garden. Harry enjoyed being outside the feeling of the warm sun on his face was great as he needed the colour to return to his cheeks as he was beginning to look very pale. Harry thought it must have been near lunch time as the sun was very high in the sky and his stomach began to grumble. He wondered if he should risk taking a break to see if lunch was ready. As he stood there thinking, wiping the sweat of his forehead with the back of his hand, he heard his Aunt yell out the kitchen window,

"I hope you don't think that you're finished yet, there are loads more to be done and when I've checked it then you can come inside, and not a second beforehand. Do you hear me?"

"Yes Aunt Petunia" Harry mumbled

"Don't you curse under your breath" she shouted "I saw you"

"I said YES AUNT PETUNIA, that's all" Harry yelled back, but he stopped himself getting angry. His temper had been increasing a lot lately ever since that night in the graveyard. He looked at his "new" scar on his arm. "Will this scar be as famous as the other?" he thought. Since Cedric's death Harry had replayed the scene over and over in his mind. "Kill the spare, kill the spare." Harry's mind started racing with questions. Why did Voldermort have to kill Cedric, why did his name have to appear in the goblet with the others? As soon as he thought that he was brought back to Ron's letter "it said that you loved the fame…and that you were helping you-know-who, helping you-know-who, helping you-know-who…." Suddenly there was a thud; Harry's head had started to spin and due to the heat and lack of food Harry had fainted on to the lawn.

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A few hours later Harry woke and found himself in his own bed. He didn't know how he had got there or what time it was, but the room was dark, his curtains were drawn and the room was stuffy. He raised himself up, opened the curtains and found that the sun had set. He touched the back of his head and found a small lump. By the door there was a small tray with a plate and a glass on it. Harry jumped off his bed and went to the tray. On the plate were a few slices of cheese and a few crackers, beside it half a glass of milk that now tasted luke warm. Harry didn't care he quickly ate the lot. There was a note left on the tray, he recognised his Aunt's small and spidery hand writing.

"Don't you think your little prank didn't go unnoticed, the only reason we didn't leave you out there was because that nosey woman next door saw you collapse. She came over straight away and not wanting her to think that we didn't care Vernon, out of the goodness of his heart, picked you up and brought you up here. You will thank us both tomorrow by finishing the job you started and by cleaning Vernon's car, both inside and out. Aunt Petunia"

"Great!" thought Harry that's all he needed. Uncle Vernon loved his car, he was always washing it, polishing it, checking to see if it was still in the driveway, admiring it from a distance, and Harry wasn't looking forward to cleaning it. The only thing Harry was thankful for was for the neighbour being in the right place at the right time. He sighed, went back to his bed and fell asleep.

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Harry spent the week cleaning, polishing, emptying the trash, even cooking the main meals because Petunia decided she deserved a holiday but Harry couldn't think why, she never did anything in the house to begin with, but he never once complained.

Everything was going well, so well he knew something wasn't right and unfortunately the worst was yet to happen. Harry was sent to the local shops one afternoon as Dudley (Harry's cousin), wanted ice-cream and decided that unless he got some he was going to start throwing things or his fist around. Not wanting to be in the way of Dudley's fist Harry said he would go get the ice-cream for his delightful cousin.

The weather was gorgeous and before long Harry started whistling a muggle tune he had heard on the TV earlier. He had to pass two women gossiping on the path. One held a brush in her hand and was pretending she was sweeping the path while watching what was going on and the other was carrying two large shopping bags. As Harry approached the two ladies, he could hear bits of a story that the woman with the brush was telling, while the other stood and listened and replied every so often "she never!" "She did, and that's not all" the woman with the brush continued "now I'm not one to gossip, but number 42 said…" but she didn't get to finish because Harry was approaching. As he went passed he quickly said "Afternoon" to the two ladies and kept going.

He wasn't out of ear shot when he heard "that's that odd boy, you know Petunia Dursley's nephew, the one that goes to that centre for incurable criminal boys, St. Bruce's no St. Brutus's, that's it. I hear he gives his poor Aunt and Uncle a terrible time, screaming in the night, throwing things around the place, and his poor cousin is terrified of him. Poor Petunia having to put up with someone like that and out of the goodness of her heart, just because his parents died in a car crash and she didn't want him growing up in an orphanage. His cousin is around the same age and she thought it would be company for the boy but how wrong she was."

At this stage Harry had heard enough, his temper rising more and more he turned around and shouted "I'm not deaf, thank you very much, and you could you please refrain from talking about me", his emerald eyes flashing with anger.

Then it happened before Harry had even realised it, the wind came up and the woman's shopping bags split straight down the middle, everything crashed to the ground, a box of eggs broke, loose fruit rolled down the path, cans of beans landed with a thud. The little pile of dirt that the woman had spent all day collecting was blown everywhere. The women started to scream, Harry knew he had to get out of there, so he quickly turned and ran, he was so annoyed, it was like the night he blew up Aunt Marge all over again. He had to relax, channel his energy some how, so he kicked the wall outside his house and the pain quickly shot up his foot. "Great! Ouch! Just great! Ouch!" he kept saying over and over.

Harry limped into the house and placed the shopping on the table. Dudley ran into the kitchen and elbowed Harry out of the way, grabbing the huge tub of ice-cream. After Harry had put the shopping away he hobbled up the stairs and lay down on his bed resting his sore foot. He was angry with himself for leaving his emotions get the better of him, he was also worried about his wandless magic and how he was going to learn how to control it. He remembered what Dumbledore had said back in Second Year; about Voldermort transferring some of his own powers to him the night Harry got his scar.

Harry shivered because almost immediately he could feel the ropes that were tied around him and the cold headstone against his back again. It was his fault Voldermort had been reborn, his own blood used to bring such evil back to life, and people thought he was a hero, the boy-who-lived! "What a joke" he said to himself, "I'm just as bad as Voldermort, I got Cedric killed and I helped bring Voldermort back. How am I going to explain that one?"