Chapter 10: A General Nuisance
Albus was old. Surely too old for this.
He had thought the hardest part of his life would be having to duel Gellert, before condemning him to a lifetime of prison. He'd thought then, a little foolishly, 'surely it couldn't get worse?'
Tempting fate, he had been. Of course it can get worse, of course it did get worse.
He had thought he was done with wars and difficult decisions. At least, decisions with lives at stake, hundreds of lives, innocent lives, children. He thought, after Gellert, the only decisions he would have to make would be school curriculums, and what colour robes to wear the next morning.
And yet, here he was, deciding the fate of other people.
He knew the Dursleys were not ideal people, he knew Petunia very well. He knew the kind of people they were, how they hated magic, and he knew how this hatred of magic could manifest. He knew what was at stake there when he left Harry with them. Ariana always remained fresh in his mind.
He knew Harry would have benefited from growing up loved and cared for.
But with so many Death Eaters still at large, worming their way out of Azkaban, Harry would have been a ripe target fresh for the taking. Giving him to the Dursleys was his best bet, the Ministry could not contest him living with blood relatives, and then there was the added benefit of the blood wards.
That did not mean that the decision didn't weigh on him. Just like several others, like Ariana, Aberforth, Gellert, the Elder wand. Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, Alice and Frank Longbottom.
Who will be the last straw? When will it finally be enough? When will his back break?
He did have eyes on Harry, along with a few magical monitors. If Harry was seriously harmed then he would be alerted, and if not, then Arabella would surely inform him. He knew there had recently been an incident with Child Protective Services, and Albus had vowed to himself that if anything was proven, he would find another place for Harry.
He did not interfere. And the case turned out to be nothing; so surely, it couldn't be too bad. And neither Arabella nor his spells and instruments had alerted him to anything grievous.
He did not quite want to deal with this.
It was a coward's way, he knew. To leave the well being of a magical child up to Muggles. But turning a blind eye had always been his specialty.
"Today's my birthday," Harry said.
"I know," Voldemort replied, deadpan as can be. Wind rustled outside the window, a surprisingly cool night for a summer day. Iris chirped on the tree facing the window.
Harry waved at her before saying to him, "You're supposed to wish people on their birthdays, it's good manners. Polite."
Voldemort sighed. Somehow, the boy's current obsession was these so-called manners. The boy thought that since the Dursleys, especially Dudley, didn't have any, then Harry would have impeccable manners just to set himself apart from them. And while Voldemort could commend him for the reasoning, it was starting to get exhausting.
"Well," Voldemort started, just to be contradictory, "No one wished me when I was your age, so."
Harry paused, and Voldemort realised his mistake. The boy was ridiculously sensitive and sympathetic, he shouldn't have said anything. In fact, he should have just wished the boy and been done with it.
"That's sad," Harry said finally, his fingers twisting with one another. It was late at night, a little after midnight. "The Dursleys won't wish me either."
"I know," Voldemort replied, a little stiffly.
"Did you live with people like the Dursleys?" Harry had moved over to the loose floorboard where he kept all his stolen money and food. Over the months, the boy had mastered the art of acting normal while still conversing with Voldemort so as not to look suspicious. Eve, now bigger than ever, was curled up around his neck like a peculiar scarf.
"In a way," Voldemort said, and then, already anticipating his following question, continued, "I lived in an orphanage."
Harry stopped in the process of pulling up the floorboard, letting it drop down with a dull thud which made him wince. He paused for a moment to see if the noise might have woken anyone in the house, before he spoke, "Uncle Vernon told me those are really bad places."
"I suppose," Voldemort started, because they were pretty terrible. And yet,compared to the way Harry's so-called relatives treated him, he was sure Harry would do just fine in an orphanage. "Not as bad as the Dursleys."
"Really? Because he said they're, like, super bad."
"I assure you, the Dursleys are worse." Voldemort didn't try to keep his disdain for them out of his voice. Harry knew very well how much Voldemort hated them.
"Go to sleep," Eve hissed from its perch around Harry's neck, before burying itself back into its coils. Harry gave it an affectionate smile, stroking its spine for a bit before retrieving a chocolate bar he'd been saving for this birthday from his hoard.
"Don't make a mess," Voldemort warned as Harry made himself comfortable on the bed.
Harry hummed, "Did you have friends in the orphanage?"
Voldemort's mind went to Billy and his dead rabbits, to the fact that no one wanted to share a room, or even a bunk, with the demon child, his mind went to how on birthdays, every child at the orphanage would receive a bar of chocolate, a privilege that had been revoked for Voldemort several times. He made up for it though, by stealing the ones other children got.
"No," he replied, not elaborating.
"I didn't either, you know. Until you and Iris and Eve," Harry grinned, his smile gap toothed. His first teeth had fallen just a week ago, and the boy still kept it in a small plastic packet under the floorboard with his other 'precious' things.
"Yes, you've said." About a hundred thousand times, how 'Mr. Lord' is his best friend, his first friend, how he never had any friends before this. Voldemort never whined this much about not having friends. In fact, he never whined about it at all. He hated kids, and if the boy weren't his horcrux, he would have hated Harry too.
"Did you make friends later? At Hogwarts?"
"A few," Voldemort said evasively. To be truthful, he hadn't. Not quite. Slytherin house wasn't a very friendly place for an assumed, poor mudblood who spoke with a horrid accent. And any friends he made later in his years were all there only for his reputation and power. Not quite friends, not quite followers. Although they all fell in line, sooner or later.
"Do you think I'll make friends at Hogwarts too?"
Voldemort had no idea. But considering James Potter's popularity and the fact that both his parents were charismatic Gryffindors with friends and admirers both, Voldemort didn't think he would have any issues.
"No doubt."
"Don't worry," Harry said, "You'll always be my best friend. No one can ever replace you."
Voldemort reigned in the urge to snort, they'll see what Harry thinks of him when he finds out who he really is.
Voldemort wasn't looking forward to it.
"Mr. Lord," Harry started tentatively, and continued when Voldemort hummed back, "Do you think my parents would have wished me?"
"Of course they would have. I've told you before, the Dursleys are abysmal people, fit only for prison. You shouldn't set your expectations for other people on par with them."
"But why?" Harry burst out, something Voldemort had expected. Harry had been growing more and more agitated with the way the Dursleys treated him, especially in contrast to Dudley. Especially after the obliviation incident, as their behaviour worsened and the small illusion of protection that being a child gave him started slowly dissipating as Harry grew older.
"Because they're afraid."
Harry snorted, "They're not afraid," he scoffed, brushing off the crumbs of chocolate from himself and crumpling up the wrapper. "They hate me."
"Of course they're afraid. Do you think you can't hate and fear something at once?"
"I… I guess you could, but why?"
"Because you have magic and they don't. It's quite simple, really. They fear the things they don't understand, and in order to deal with that fear, they mistreat you. It's abominable."
"Abo– what?"
"Abominable," Voldenort enunciated slowly, "It's wrong and causes repulsion. Repulsion means hate and disgust. What they do is disgusting and morally wrong."
Harry twisted the wrapper in his hands, crumpling it up and smoothing it out again, and again and again. He didn't say anything for several minutes.
Voldemort forced himself to break the silence. He'd been thinking of this for a while now, and it felt like an appropriate birthday present. He was strong enough for it, certainly. Some of it was simple enough that Harry could probably manage it on his own.
"Harry," he started softly, and the boy lifted his head, "Since they already hate and fear you, why don't you give them a reason for it?"
Harry tensed up, before forcing out meekly, "The last time I used magic on Aunt Petunia, you know what happened."
"We were careless, she caught you off guard. That won't happen again."
Harry stood behind his room's door, pulled open ever so slightly. He peered out towards the bathroom door across the hall where Aunt Petunia was helping Dudley shower. She'd stopped helping him when he'd grown tall enough to reach the shower taps by himself.
He could hear the sounds of her fussing and Dudley's complaining, and the shower was on and running. Harry swallowed.
He could also hear the sound of the telly downstairs, where Uncle Vernon was watching it. Slowly, with another gentle encouragement from Voldemort, Harry concentrated.
The sound of the shower stopped abruptly. There was silence from the bathroom for a total of about three seconds before Dudley started wailing about soap in his eyes and how they were burning, while Aunt Petunia yelled down at Vernon.
Vernon, of course, couldn't quite hear her over the television. She yelled thrice, and then Harry saw the bathroom door open and hastily closed his own before she could see him. Dudley was still screaming. Harry heard Petunia make her way downstairs, wet feet slapping against the wooden floor, and had to stifle a giggle. He opened the door just a smidge to look at the bathroom door, to find Dudley covered in soap suds and still wailing at the top of his lungs while scrubbing at his eyes with his soapy hands. Harry covered his mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.
He quickly shut the door again when he heard Vernon climbing up the stairs, his heavy footfalls drowning out Petunia's lighter ones. Harry stayed crouched down as Vernon went into the bathroom with Dudley, while Petunia hovered outside worriedly.
Harry kept an eye on them, as much as possible while still remaining unseen.
He waited for a few minutes while Vernon tried the tap, again and again, to no avail. The water still flowed in the washbasin, but the shower for some inexplicable reason wasn't working.
Biting down on his lips hard, Harry concentrated.
The shower started up again in a heavy burst of water, soaking Vernon completely and making him swear out loud, followed by Petunia hissing after him about minding his language around Dudley. Dudley was laughing.
Harry quietly closed the door to his room and retreated towards the bed, throwing himself face down on it, burying his face into the pillow, and bursting into uncontrollable laughter. He could feel Mr. Lord's amusement throughout.
None of the Dursleys could ever suspect him for this. They could complain and whine and take their anger out on him, but they'd do that anyway. Might as well have some fun while doing it.
After all, Mr. Lord seemed to have an abundance of ideas.
Vernon kept dozing off to sleep during work. It would be blasphemous if he actually fell asleep, what would everyone think? He had to be the perfect employee, there was a promotion coming. Hopefully. He was sure he would get it. He'd been nothing but perfect, if one didn't count the week off he had to take because Dudley broke his ankle.
Vernon couldn't just go to work when his precious son was in such pain. He was only six, afterall. The boy needed his father.
Their Halloween decorations hadn't been put up yet, even though Halloween was only a few days away. He would have done that over the weekend, but turns out the lights from last year weren't working anymore, and several of the other decorations had been eaten through by moths.
He worked his jaw, teeth aching. The Chinese take out they'd ordered the night before had a small stone in it. He didn't know what happened to their quality food, because he'd often ordered from there. He'd obviously given them a piece of his mind, but that hadn't stopped his teeth from chipping on the goddamn pebble.
It seemed like things kept going wrong. For several weeks now he'd been having troubles like this. Dudley's teachers had started talking about how they might have to hold him back a year. Their Dudley, smart, clever Dudley. The one that should have been held back was the Potter boy, not Dudley. Yet somehow the teacher didn't have any complaints about him. That little shit, he must have done something to frame Dudley.
Of course he'd been punished appropriately, but that didn't stop Dudley's teachers from harassing them about holding Dudley back. What would people say?
Maybe if they pulled Harry out of school… but no, that might incur even more rumours and whispers. One incident with Child Protective Services had been enough of a stain on their reputation, they couldn't afford anything more.
Vernon rubbed at his eyes and got up, smiling tersely at his colleagues who were also packing up. He hadn't gotten any work done today, but that was fine. He'll go home, spend some time with Pet and Dudley, and feel better.
He walked up to his car and grimaced, eyeing the keyed up sides. Some idiot, goddamn ruffian, had keyed up his car overnight. Vernon had even speculated that maybe the boy had done it, but they locked him in every night, and with the number of locks Vernon had put up on his door, he was fairly certain the boy couldn't have done it.
He'd been getting late for work already, otherwise he would never have driven such a car. He wasn't that kind of a person. What if everyone thought he couldn't afford to fix his car? They were perfectly respectable members of society.
But sometimes needs must.
A/N: Yes, very late, I know. And a filler to boot. Life gets in the way sometimes.
