Chapter 6 Big and Little

"I've got a couple paintings for you today, dear Aunt and Uncle" Harry smirked. He was sitting in his chair eating a swiftly created breakfast. He really wasn't hungry – he had waited for this point in his life for years, and food just didn't matter anymore, although he certainly appreciated the alcohol. But he wanted to eat, and eat loudly and conspicuously, simply to torture the Dursleys.

He walked to a very tall and narrow canvas, and the Dursleys were disgusted to see the brightening portrait was that of the filthy giant that had kidnapped Harry on his 11th birthday, standing still with a sleeping boarhound. "Wake up, Hagrid, wake up Fang" Harry called gently.

"Arry? Where did yer get a painting of 'ol Hagrid from?" The giant looked around with amusement.

"Commissioned it, my friend. I took a lock of your hair to make paint from when you died." Harry smiled at the giant and turned to face his relatives. "Hagrid was my first friend. Ever. You do realize that anyone in school that was nice to me was promptly beat up by your thug of a son? I never had friends as a child because of Dudley."

Petunia shook her head in denial. "Duddums was such a kind boy – so smart and gentle!"

Harry snorted. "Open your eyes, Aunty dear. He smoked, drank, did drugs, robbed, pummeled me and all the small kids of the neighborhood constantly. The police were not picking on him – he was even worse than they knew." He reached over to a painting next to Hagrid and brought it to life. It was a strange stone hut with thatched roof in a grassy lawn, woods to the back. "Here, Hagrid. I've got your hut and the forbidden forest for you. The Weasleys are mostly awake, as is Hogsmeade. There's more to come. Feel free to tell my Aunt and Uncle what you think of them." The Boy-Who-Lived retreated his chair to drink and observe.

"Dursley, you great big tub 'o lard!" Hagrid growled and yelled at Vernon. "If yer only knew how many times I begged Dumblydore to let me go and teach yer a lesson! Harry's such a fine lad – a good lad. And you hurt him so bad!" Tears dripped into the giant's beard.

Vernon crashed backwards off his stool, cracking his head on the stairs above and falling heavily to the floor. His stool ended up on top of him as he groaned, wedged in the filthy cupboard. He grabbed at Petunia's hand, but succeeded only in pulling her on top of himself with a screech. Harry watched with detached amusement.

It took a while, but the Dursleys finally managed to stand, get the stools back in position, and climb back on them. "Cramped? Cosy?" Harry leered at the sweating and bruised pair. "Funny – it's the exact dimensions of the cupboard I lived in for ten years. It should be plenty large enough for a living being."

Harry walked over to another painting and brought it to life. There was a pair of strange creatures with bulging eyes and bat-like ears sleeping in front of a manor house.

"What are those?" Petunia sniffed in horror and disgust.

Her nephew shot her a scathing look. "They are house-elves. A different kind of being. Powerful magic, loyal to a fault – even to abusive masters. They are my friends." He turned to the painting. "Wake up Dobby! Wake up Winky!"

"Harry Potter sir! Has the great Harry Potter made a painting of a lowly elf?" Dobby squeaked and jumped up and down in excitement.

"You two saved my life that day" Harry choked in a voice thick with emotion. "I couldn't save yours, but now you can live in my manor forever, with all my friends. I'm waking everyone up."

"Why is horse-lady and hippo-man over there?" Winky gestured to the Dursley's portrait. Winky had grown quite the backbone after Harry had taken her bond, so long ago.

"That is my dear aunt and uncle, Winky, Dobby" Harry gestured dismissively. "They are trapped in that canvas. I wanted to introduce them to people who actually loved me.

Vernon was gaping at the large manor in back of the elves. "You own that property? Where'd you steal the money from, boy?"

The 'boy' walked over close to the Dursleys, while Dobby yelled abuse to the pair for insulting his great friend. "I'm rich, dear Uncle. I always was. The Potters were a well established family, and I inherited another fortune from my godfather. I owned many properties and businesses before the collapse of the economy. I had vaults of money in my bank."

"Well, if you had shared some of that money, perhaps I would not have been so hard on you" Vernon glared greedily at his nephew.

With a steely look Harry hissed back "If you were the tiniest bit kind to me, I would have shared it all."

Harry sat down, sipping a drink and watching. His friends wandered canvas to canvas, greeting each other with hugs and kisses. The twins pulled pranks, Ginny wandered in gardens, Bill and Charlie sat with Hagrid drinking a pint in front of his hut. Mrs. Weasley was hugging Percy for some reason or another, and in the distance Harry could see Mr. Weasley tinkering with his flying car. Harry Potter fell asleep in the chair, an almost peaceful smile on his face.

Petunia gazed at the canvases across from theirs. Her husband's bulk was pressing against her, and the combination of that with the small hard stool had her legs prickling with pins and needles. With her sicko nephew asleep the torches extinguished leaving no light except for the canvases across from them. They were drawn like a moth to a flame – they had to watch.

Happy people, loving people. People of all backgrounds and species. They loved each other, played and hugged. With a start Petunia realized she never hugged her child like that Mrs. Weasley hugged hers. Dudley was just too manly for that kind of fawning, she decided. But somehow she realized for the first time something was missing from her life. Something that status and money couldn't bring.