Chapter 2 : Privet Drive

Uncle Vernon was gripping the steering wheel tightly; his breathing coming in short bursts like a winded bull. Dudley plastered his hands and face against the window, completely astonished, his eyes darting from his mother's favourite potted plant, the football left in the corner, the chocolate wrapper he threw there this morning, and the wooden front door of his house. Harry walked around, squeezed his legs between the car and the front door, (they were only a foot away) opened the passenger door, leant inside and told Petunia in her face:

"Oh- shut up already."

She immediately obeyed, seeming to now realize that she was screaming. She was beside herself in alarm, and took some deep breaths to calm herself. Harry now felt really terrible. Inadvertently he may have nearly scared the living soul out of his only family left alive.

His expression changed and he muttered an attempted apology. "Er- I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." A tense silence ensued.

"...Are you okay?" he asked, now concerned. Aunt Petunia nodded erratically. Composing herself again, she looked across to her husband.

"I'M ALIVE…" he blurted, inspecting his beefy hands. "I'M ALIVE!" Harry snorted in derision. It was a perfect one liner to accompany his wife's scream.

Dudley was the first to get a hold of himself and bravely came out of the car. He turned around on the spot to make sure he really was where he was. Harry was startled when Dudley grinned at him. "Bloody fucking hell. That was absolutely brilliant."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him in speculation- Dudley must be off his rocker! He noticed his uncle Vernon was mumbling uselessly in the driver's seat. Without further ado, Dudley pulled him out of the car, sat in the seat and reversed the car a few feet, shut off, then opened the front door and walked in. No less than ten seconds had passed when he came back out.

"Mum! I'm hungry!" Harry chuckled to himself, helped his aunt out of the car and ushered her inside and onto the couch before turning to get his things. Vernon sat with his elbows on his knees and heels of his hands in his eyes. Petunia sat there rigid, and then slowly turned her head to follow Harry's progress outside the door, staring at him in utter amazement.

Uncle Vernon did not speak to Harry for that day and the next, which was fine by him. Dudley had planted himself in front of his television the moment he got in and immediately turned it to Wrestling, getting up only to go to the fridge for his protein drink and some new nutrition bar or the other. Unfortunately for Harry, his cousin was now also part of his school's wrestling team. He was now more muscle-toned, however that podgy bulk would always be there due to the fact that his eating habits rivalled that of a few grown men. Harry grimaced, now Dudley knew how to inflict some serious damage if he got out of line.

This is going to be a great summer.

Putting that to the back of his mind, he went upstairs. Dudley was the least of his problems. Just as he was going to settle down he heard some heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. They seemed to falter with confidence the higher they came up, but Harry's hopes were dashed when the stopped outside of his door. He groaned in annoyance.

"What do they want now?" he said to himself.

"Hey Harry? uhh- Can I? - I'm coming in!" Dudley declared. A second later he was filling most of the doorway. He looked down at Harry sitting on the bed, trying his best to ignore him.

"I don't have time for your stupidity now," Harry said without much preamble.

"Oh yeah?" Dudley responded indignantly, but then he paused, and humbled himself. "Um, Harry...I didn't come up here to uhhh...hit you or anything. Honest."

"Yeah right..." Harry snorted.

"Fine. Whatever. This is stupid." He turned to leave.

"What is it?"

"Forget it."

"What is it, Dudley?" Harry asked more seriously.

Dudley paused. He seemed to be contemplating something very urgent but did not appear to have the right tools for the proper calculations.

"I -I wanted I wanted..."

"Yeah?' Harry prodded.

"To thank you. Th-thank you for what you did last summer.'

Harry was confused, and then it came flooding back to him. The Dementors, inches away from Dudley- the horrible screams of his parents, a limply floating Cedric, and worst of all- that clammy feeling of a never ending fall into a pit of misery. He looked up sharply, all vestiges of nonchalance gone as he peered into Dudley's face. He wasn't smiling or looking sarcastic. Actually, he was quite serious. Harry did not know what to say.

"Uuhh-" Dudley stood there stupidly for a few seconds. Seeing as there was nothing more to be said, he spun around and closed the door. As he walked back to his room Harry overheard him mutter under his breath, "-I feel like a punk."

Harry was upstairs, once again sitting alone in his room. In his hand was the repaired mirror Sirius had given him. He examined it closely for the umpteenth time, looking at the small etching of 'J.P.' at a corner. This was the mirror his father and Sirius used to talk between themselves.

"Harry, anytime you need to talk to me, look in the mirror and call my name…"

Dumbledore had already told him about the Veil of Darkness. But Harry couldn't give up so easily- he still did not believe he was gone. The reflection in the mirror was different from the previous year. His face had filled out a little more, a few pathetic strands of hair were coming out of his chin to accompany his faint moustache. The lines of his cheekbones and around his jaw were more pronounced and his neck actually didn't resemble a pencil any more. The scar was more prominent than ever, his latest encounter with Voldemort had it on a constant edge, and now the he knew it was a physical communications link between them, he hated it even more. None of his friends knew, but he knew this scar was the mark of death. Rubbing it for what felt like the hundredth time today he cursed softly under his breath. He didn't want this life and he didn't want this scar. People gawking at him wherever he went, new first years always running up to him on a dare to actually see it, all of it soon became very annoying. Malfoy's taunts of Scarhead no longer affected him; it just reminded him that this was what he was famous for, and no one really saw anything but the "boy who lived' and not the real Harry. No one, even Dumbledore only considered him as a part of "an old man's brilliant plan." What rubbish.

"Sirius!" he hissed into the mirror, ordering his face to magically appear. And once again, nothing happened.

"He is not dead," he chanted to himself. But his mantra only infuriated him every time he thought of it.

I'm losing it. I'm talking to myself in the mirror in a dark room.

"You're hungry, Harry. Go downstairs," he ordered himself, only to curse once more that he had to scold himself into action. Maybe he really was going insane. Harry put on some clothes, only to be infuriated once again that his jeans were too short and the shirts, though they fit around the shoulders comfortably they showed his belt line every time he lifted his arms. Swearing once again, he just had to make do. Nothing could be done about that now. Entering the kitchen without any sign that he saw, or even cared, that the Dursleys were all having breakfast, he opened the fridge to get himself some juice, resolutely ignoring the glances Petunia shot at him. Vernon just grunted in acknowledgement. Harry grumbled 'Good morning' in response and his aunt mumbled something about 'lack of civility'. Harry sat at the kitchen table without comment. Vernon had just finished the morning paper and was now drinking his coffee, reading something on drill motors in "Construction Quality Supplies". He glanced down at the paper and saw boldly spread across the front page:

LONDON POLICEMEN DROP DEAD AT COURT
Pages 2 and 5

Harry snatched up the paper immediately. He read the article, a feeling of dread slowly overcoming him.

Late yesterday outside London House of Justice three Police officers were killed instantly by means unknown. One eyewitness claims that a lone man stopped the vehicle, and the three policemen from the North Division reportedly released the prisoner, then instantly fell to their death. A man who wishes not to be named, gives us his account on the incident:

'Scared me to death. Thought (the robed man) was going to be run over quick quick. I'm telling you- this bloke seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It was amazing. Unbelievable. Now this was a guy dressed in a hood, I'm telling you, honest to God. He raised a stick, pointed it, and the armoured van just ..kind of stopped. Not brakes screeching stop, just slowed quick quick. Incredible. It was like magic or something! Something out of Star wars if you asked me.'

The eyewitness claims that the police were not forced or threatened, they were acting of their own accord.

"Those policemen just got out, released the guy from the back, then dropped. Just like that. I didn't wait to see what happened next. I ran quick quick."

Even though the street was quite busy, no one else has come forward with information. On further questioning, persons at the scene claimed that they 'could not remember'. The escaped convict and the hooded figure are reported at large and highly dangerous. Investigations are continuing.

"Voldemort," Harry gasped. "Oh no..."

At this Aunt Petunia spun around, a frightened look on her face.

"What was that?" she hissed.

"Er- nothing, Aunt Petunia" Harry said, picking up his juice and placing the newspaper face down. Petunia marched up to the table and snatched it from him. Her eyes raced through the article, narrowing like a hawk, opening widely at intervals. Vernon, too busy to notice, handed his wife the coffee mug, expecting Petunia to take it automatically and refill it. After about fifteen seconds he realized he was still holding the cup and looked up in confusion.

"What is it?" He asked, now mildly curious.

"Er Nothing," she answered softly, almost in the same tone as Harry. Slowly, with shaking hands, she took the cup and refilled it. Petunia pursed her lips at Harry, then took the newspaper and went upstairs. Harry wished she hadn't, he wanted to read it again.

"Boy, get that breakfast for me on the counter," his uncle ordered. Harry reluctantly did what he was told. As an afterthought, and without much sincerity in his voice, Vernon added "Please." Harry paused for a moment. He looked at his uncle, who was now concentrating on his magazine again. Saying nothing, he grabbed the breakfast Aunt Petunia made for him and put it in front of his uncle. He waited for a moment, maybe expecting a 'thank you', but it never came.

It was his fourth day back from Hogwarts and he still hasn't been scolded or looked upon in revulsion. The newfound quiet gave him more time to think. Harry was thankful - it definitely was a change; at least he was not outside lying in the mud and grass. As he sat in front of the television alongside Dudley who was deceptively calmer and more mature than Harry would ever thought possible. All Dudley did was look sideways at him once, but wisely, he said nothing. They sat down for almost a half an hour without speaking until Dudley just blurted out:

"How the fuck did you get us here without your wand the other day?"

Harry frowned. Dudley took up cursing at every other word as a habit, but the answer to his question Harry did not even know himself. He must have apparated the lot of them here. However, he also knew that Apparation only applied to the wizard doing the spell. It mentioned nothing about a carload of people. Additionally, he did not do his Apparation exam so he had no business being able to do it in the first place. He wondered why he did not receive an owl about it as yet. Well at least a small blessing like that is a good sign. Lord knows he needed a lucky break now and then.

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly.

"Aw- come on! You obviously know how just you don't want to tell me, is that it?" Dudley was looking directly at him now, eagerness etched into his broad face.

"I told you, I don't know ! It's a lucky thing I haven't gotten a reprimand from the Ministr-"

As if on cue, his uncle roared from the kitchen, "RUDDY OWLS!"

A tawny owl came sweeping into the room and dropped an official -looking letter onto Harry's lap. Dudley looked at it, astonished. Harry 's eyes opened wide and full of anxiety. He looked up at it with a panicked look on his face and saw the exact same expression on Dudley's face. In that fleeting of an instant it seems that there was a connection between them, but it vanished as soon as it came. Harry tentatively opened it and read silently.


The Ministry of Magic
Department of the Wizengamot
London, England

Attn Mr. Harry Potter

The events of this past month have been brought forth to the Wizengamot's attention. Albus Dumbledore have relayed the specific details unto us; and we have reached a decision concerning the matter of the incident at the Ministry of Magic. We offer our condolensces as regards the death of Sirius Black, a man who we admit was wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years. His will is in our possession, and addressed solely to you. You are required to collect it at the above address.

On a legal note, you are officially summoned for two court hearings. You will present evidence against the Dark Lord's followers that are presently in custody. You may be represented by a qualified Wizard lawyer of your choosing; or, one would be chosen if you cannot present one. Your date of hearing is Wednesday 27 of July at 10 am. Please send reply owl stating you have received this summons and inform us if you have representation or would require a Ministry representative.

The second hearing will be on that same date at 4pm. In defiance of ministry decrees 234, 65, 25,and 1004 you are charged with

1. Breaking and entering a Ministry Compound
2. Destroying precious valuables from the Department of Mysteries
3. Purposefully Endangering five underage wizards
4. Using an unforgivable curse on another human

As these are serious allegations against you, you are required to stand trial. Use of magic in any shape or form is strictly prohibited, and you are not allowed to leave the country. It is mandatory that you present your wand to the guard at entry for confiscation until you are cleared or deemed safe in possession of a wand.

Respectfully,

Amanda Bones
Secretary to the Wizengamot.

Harry nearly fainted. The words swam in his head like piranhas attacking a piece of helpless meat. He limply dropped his letter onto his lap, leaned back and closed his eyes.

"This isn't happening!" he said aloud. It can't be happening! Is this a joke? Fred George..you've out done yourself this time...

Even to his own mind, it sounded way above their level of prank capability. He couldn't believe it. His fringe in front of his hair twitched as if on charge. It moved ever so slightly, and it could not have been noticed at a mere glance. Gradually, his whole head of hair charged up, strands separating from each other by fractions of millimetres. Dudley noticed something odd about Harry- there was no breeze yet his hair was restless, itching to move by an unseen force.

"Harry? HARRY!" Dudley shouted.

Harry snapped out of it, his eyes opening with a start. Frowning, he realized the television was now returning to normal reception, previously out of tune with static interfering with the screen. Dudley watched him sceptically, got up and hastily went out back. Harry let him leave, still sitting at the couch; wondering why he felt so agitated. He forgot about his cousin, most probably Dudley was going to his training gym in a spare room where he kept a set of weights. Furious, Harry got up and stormed up to his room, not noticing the grandfather clock had stopped, with the pendulum stuck in the furthest position to the right.