Court Ordered Diet
by Surplus Imagination
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley and the other characters of the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K. Rowling. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended.
A/N This story takes place prior to the events in HBP. Many thanks to my beta, Acacia59601
Blackmail
Beautifully bright stars twinkled in the sky above Little Whinging. Harry didn't think he had ever seen them quite so bright before. They looked just like. . . .
"Petunia!" A scream of outrage came from inside the house startling Harry from his reverie of the evening sky. The stars were so bright because all of the power had gone out in Little Whinging in a ripple effect starting from the fountain pump in the Dursley's backyard.
"Oh dear," Aunt Petunia muttered looking worriedly at the house. "Call the Utility Department and report the power outage. I have to settle your father," she told Dudley giving his chin a tweak. "It will be all right, Popkin." Spinning, Aunt Petunia reached over and snatched Harry by one ear. "This is your fault, you little freak!" She drug Harry over to the now silent pump by one lobe. "You unhook this contraption and get the power back on. One more problem and I'll lock you out of the house myself," she hissed turning his head loose. Without looking back, Aunt Petunia stalked up the steps into the house. Both Harry and Dudley flinched at the slam of the door.
Harry rubbed his ear making sure his aunt hadn't torn it off. "What went wrong, Dudley? Why did the power all go out?" he asked.
"Dunno, I hooked it up the right way. Maybe it's a coinso . . . coinsodunse . . . co. . . . ," Dudley stammered.
"Coincidence?" Harry finished. "Maybe, but it's not bloody likely." Harry reached over and switched the pump switch off. "How do you unhook the wires on this thing?" He knelt down and examined the electrical leads.
"I told you, I hooked this up the right way," Dudley growled. He walked over to Harry and knocked him off his knees. "You're going to mess it up. Leave it alone!" Dudley raised one fist threateningly.
Harry rolled onto his back holding his hands out, "Calm down. You unhook it then."
"It's not broken. You touch one wire and I'll . . . ," Dudley threatened while lifting Harry halfway off the ground by his shirt.
Harry felt his ire rise as he prepared to take a punch. "Is this what you did to the little Evans boy? Hit him when he was down?" Harry said darkly, clenching his own fists. He may have grown up as Dudley's punching bag, but he was no longer applying for the job. If Dudley started swinging, he was going to swing right back. "You can't solve everything with your fists, Dudley. Now let me go."
Amazingly, Dudley let go dropping Harry in the dirt. He walked away washing his face with his hands. "I know that. It's just hard," he muttered.
Shaken, Harry heaved himself up and brushed off the dirt. The front of his shirt hung down his neck, the fabric was stretched out of shape. He walked over to his portly cousin. "What's hard?" he asked. His own temper was cooling fast.
"My temper . . . my fists . . . my life . . . ," Dudley muttered. "No one ever believes in me. It just makes me so. . . . angry."
"I understand anger. I spent most of the last year lashing out at one person or another," Harry replied, the events of fifth year flashed through his memory.
Dudley looked at him surprised, "But you never hit anyone, right?"
Harry laughed humorlessly, "I punched a prat bad-mouthing my best mate's house during a Qui . . . uh, sporting event."
"No way! Over a house? Did you make his nose bleed?" Dudley's eyes bulged out as he asked.
"It was more about how they lived than the actual house," Harry replied uncomfortable. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? "He was really insulting. A regular stuck up snob. The Weasleys didn't deserve that. He made rude comments about my mother's house, too. And no, I didn't make his nose bleed." But Fred and George did, he thought, I just punched him in the stomach. Harry didn't like drawing parallels from Dudley to either himself or his friends. It was just too . . . uncomfortable. Surely, getting into a fist fight at a Quidditch match was not the same as Dudley beating up on younger kids, even if it was three against one. Harry felt sick with himself. He did not need this conversation.
"I can show you how to do that properly," Dudley offered. He started shadow boxing in the moonlight.
"No!" Harry cried in alarm. "That's not why I told you." Why did you tell him? he asked himself. Why do these personal things keep coming out of my mouth? Harry suspected that Hermione would tell him that confession was good for the soul, and that bad feelings would keep surfacing until they were confronted. "Look, that bout of violence got me banned from playing on the house team. For life! No good comes from hitting people, particularly not to get what you want."
Dudley dropped his boxing stance. "You mean it okay to hit someone up if it's unselfish?" he asked with a puzzled expression on his face. "Like when you protect someone?"
"I suppose so. Or when you are in a boxing match, but that's competition not beating." Harry gave a heavy sigh looking around the unusually dark night. There were still no lights on as far as he could see. He needed to focus on the pump. The pump was a safe topic. Harry changed the subject, "We still need to unhook this pump. I wonder what happened?"
"I know what I'm doing. I hooked that pump up correctly. The breaker box must be messed up," Dudley replied. "I'll throw the main breaker off and call the Utility Department. Then, I want some of that soup. I'm so hungry that my belly thinks my throat's been cut." With that, Dudley walked into the shed, flicked the main breaker off and walked back toward the house. As he passed, Dudley punched Harry hard on the upper arm, "I'll show you how to knock that prat's block off any time you want. You have to protect Aunt Lily's honor, you know."
Harry was dumbfounded. He had never heard the words 'Aunt Lily' before. They gave him a chill down his spine, but it wasn't an unpleasant chill. He wondered what Aunt Petunia would say if she heard her precious Diddydums acknowledging the relationship. Harry looked around the backyard garden. Even in the darkness the garden was lovely. In his mind's eye he could see the stone fountain bubbling water into the pond filled with cattails and lily pads with purple flowers on them. Wild, red roses climbed over the fence to mingle with the Fairy's Lure.
Smiling to himself with the vision, Harry made his way to the back door climbing each step with weary legs. Aunt Petunia's face suddenly appeared in the door window as he reached for the knob. He heard her say, "You stay outside and wait for the repairman." The sound of her words were muffled by the window glass even as he heard the door lock.
With another heavy sigh, Harry plopped down on the top step. His stomach gave a rumbling protest of emptiness. Dudley's candy bar had been tasty but it hadn't filled him up. Perhaps the repairman would come soon and Aunt Petunia would let him in the house to eat. It's more likely to rain meat pies than a utility worker show up so soon, he thought.
A small brown owl came flying into the backyard clutching a cloth wrapped bundle. It was Pig! Harry coaxed the small bird to land on the step next to him and untied the little owl's burden. Pig hopped up and down the stairs excitedly as Harry undid the bundle. The cloth contained a dozen chocolate biscuits and a letter from . . . Ginny? Harry wasn't sure if he should be delighted or worried. Stuffing one of the biscuits into this mouth he opened the letter and read:
Dear Harry,
I just found out that my sorry excuse for a brother sent you a mushy 'thank you' letter in my name. Hold on a minute while I go bash him again. There, that felt good. It's a good thing for Ron that I can't use magic outside of school or I'd hex him but good! As I was saying, the 'thank you' letter you already got was penned by none other than Soon-To-Lose-His-Life-Ron. Just to clear things up, I named the dog Snitch, not Seeker after you, since his coloring is like a snitch. He is a wonderful puppy and I know that you didn't mean anything, well . . . personal, when you sent him to me. That was a lovely tag you attached, very poetic. I guess not all boys are sodding prats like my brother! Anyway, thank you for the puppy. I think Snitch will like it here at the Burrow the way Mum has been feeding him.
Many thanks,
Ginny
p.s. I would have sent more biscuits but Ron ate the rest. Said it was his duty to make sure you didn't get too fat to fly a broom. He's just mad because Snitch likes me more than him!
G
Harry snorted in amusement. Everyone seems in the mood for punching someone, he mused. Pig jumped onto his lap and snatched a biscuit before flying off. Munching down all but two of the remaining crunchy biscuits, Harry slaked his thirst with the garden hose. The water tasted rubbery as it went down. Harry knew that Ginny never could have sent that first letter. She was much too smart to get mixed up with the likes of him. Harry felt a pang of regret at the letter's contents, regret for what might have been. This feeling surprised Harry. He'd have to read the letter again later and think on the matter. Images of Ginny filled his head. He had always been partial to her red hair. He needed more red in the garden. Maybe he would plant climbing roses on the fence by the garden gate, some wild, thorny ones with red blooms.
Harry went back to his upper step and wrapped up the letter with the remaining two biscuits. He had a feeling he'd want them later. There was a good possibility of being locked out of the house all night based on Aunt Petunia's behavior. Given the smell leaking from under the kitchen door, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Harry sat a moment and pondered his irritable uncle's health. He wondered if Snape would deign to reply to his letter or if he was just having a great laugh at Harry's expense.
As if on cue, a large black raven bearing a letter glided into the backyard on silent wings. It landed majestically on the stone fountain and neatly folded midnight black wings. Pocketing the cloth wrapped biscuits, Harry rose to take the letter. As he took the bit of parchment, the raven launched into the air, its wings hit Harry full in the face driving him backwards. Muttering at the rudeness of the bird, Harry looked at his letter. It was, predictably, from Professor Snape. Only he would have such a regal and rude messenger.
"Excuse me, Son. Is there where the transformer blew?"
Harry turned to find a Utility Department workman standing in the backyard just inside the gate. The man's bright yellow hard-hat sported a white light on the front, the beam blinded Harry's dark-accustomed eyes. Raising one hand up to block the glare, Harry carefully went for the wand in his back pocket with the other hand. He heard the back door open and someone walk out. Harry kept his eyes on the workman while he heard Dudley say, "I can show you where it happened. Right this way."
Dudley led the workman over to the pond. He was carrying a large flashlight and directed the beam while quietly explaining what had happened. The workman nodded periodically, and then knelt beside the pump in an awkward squat. Instantly, the waist of the workman's pants pulled downward showing a good deal of the man's buttocks. Look! A full moon, Harry thought to himself, choking down a laugh. It wouldn't do to make fun of the man who might get the lights back on. His amusement was doubled when Dudley squatted down next to the workman unveiling his own pasty white expanse. Harry relaxed his guard. No self-respecting Death Eater would allow his bum to protrude.
Harry spent the next few minutes entertaining himself with mental images of various people mooning him in different situations; Draco mounted on his broom, Filch cleaning the floor, Snape bent over a cauldron during class. Harry realized then that he might have gotten too much sun that day. Snickering at his own immature behavior, Harry watched Dudley and the workman enter the garden shed, bang around for a few minutes and come back out. Neither one bothered hefting up their trousers. Harry thought that certainly, they must feel a breeze! The workman left the backyard through the gate while Dudley joined Harry on the step. Harry confirmed that Dudley's pants were still riding low on his hips showing a fair amount of crack.
"Bob said the electrician must have hooked the ground wire wrong at the breaker box so when the pump tripped the breaker the whole thing blew instead of simply shutting off," Dudley explained all in a rush. "He moved the ground and is going to replace the transformer at the corner junction. That should restore the power lines."
Harry tried to keep a straight face, but found he couldn't get the image of twin moons out of his head. Grinning like an idiot he asked, "Can you say that in English?" Harry hitched up his own pants extra high hoping to give Dudley a hint. He stifled a another snicker.
Giving him a strange look Dudley replied, "It wasn't my fault. It's fixed. The lights are going to come back on. What's up with you?"
Harry choked on a laugh and started to answer when all the lights came back on. Next door he heard someone cheer. Aunt Petunia flung open the back door and ordered both boys back inside. "Finish your supper, Dudley. I'm taking your father up some of this excellent soup." Aunt Petunia ushered them into the foul-smelling house. Harry saw a large, steamy pot on the stove. "Make sure you do the washing up before bed," she said pointedly at Harry. Taking a bed tray of soup, bread and tea, Aunt Petunias left the room with the parting shot, "Dudley dear, please raise your trousers. Your backside is showing."
After giving Harry a look of hatred, Dudley hitched up his pants and sat back down to his bowl of cabbage soup. Instead of using a normal container, his cousin was eating out of a large mixing bowl, his head bend low over the wide brim.
Hesitant, Harry walked to the stove and gave the mixture a stir. A diet version of cabbage soup couldn't possibly be appetizing despite Aunt Petunia's proclamation. Surprisingly, the soup was bursting with vegetables and looked delicious. When Harry lowered his head to get a good sniff, he could smell the tantalizing aroma without the seasoning of Uncle Vernon's sickness. Harry wished he could keep his face there until morning. Instead, he scooped out a bowl of soup and headed for the kitchen table. He fished out Snape's letter from his pocket as he sat down. The parchment crinkled in his hand.
Dudley finished his meal with a last slurp, a loud belch and a clatter of a tossed spoon. "That was good," he drawled rubbing his stomach. "That's the first time I've been full all week. This is a diet I can live with," he said belching again. "What's that? Another love letter from your gal?"
Shaking his head no, Harry broke the wax seal. He read silently:
Dear Mr. Potter:
How unfortunate that you did not heed my warning. Under ideal conditions, an excess dosage of that potion should not prove fatal. The victim is advised to remain completely calm until the symptoms subside or risk suffering evisceration through the rectum. I'm sure you can imagine just how painful that could be. The potion will metabolize at a rate dependent on the amount taken and the gross body weight of the victim. An estimate of time for your Uncle to be symptom-free is six to eight weeks.
Allow me to remind you that the use of magical potions on Muggles is strictly prohibited by both the Hogwart's charter and the Ministry of Magic. Given your current persona non grata status with the Ministry, knowledge of your blatant rule-breaking would result in expulsion from Hogwarts at the very least and a six-month term in Azkaban Prison likely.
I have been instructed to inform you that Albus Dumbledore, along with the entire Order, is now sequestered for an important matter lasting several weeks. You will not be able to reach anyone other than myself for aid earlier than August 1.
That being said, there is an antidote to this potion. It involves a two-part cure that I, alone, can perform.
Now that you understand the situation, I would like to offer you a trade. I am willing to reverse the effects of your negligence in return for your wizard's oath not to attend Advanced Level Potions, even if your dubious OWL scores should gain you admittance.
If you agree to these terms, sign your name on the line below. The parchment is enchanted to reveal your agreement to me immediately. Your signature will result in a binding wizard's oath.
Failure to sign this agreement will result in an automatic refusal of these terms. There will be no further negotiations.
You have five minutes from the reading of this missive to sign before it self-destructs.
SS
Harry sat back in utter disbelief. Promise not to attend Potions? Did that mean he had received an Outstanding on his Potion's Owl? Was his dream to become an Auror now possible only to be wrenched away by Dudley's moment of revenge? His heart racing, Harry read it again. Maybe Snape was lying.
Precious seconds ticked by as Harry examined the parchment for signs of dishonesty. No, Snape wouldn't directly lie. Harry had no doubt that should he owl Dumbledore, Madam Pomphrey or even Mrs. Weasley for help, he would receive no immediate answer. Evisceration? That seemed so far fetched, but could he risk it? Was Snape bluffing? He didn't seem the type although you never knew with Slytherins. The weight loss potion was clearly a carefully formulated trap. Once again, Harry had acted before thinking. This was yet another thing he would have to fix. "Dudley, I need something to write with," Harry said his eyes grimly scanning the paper calling out his career's doom.
"Why don't you get it yourself?" came a cranky reply followed by a distinct sound of flatulence.
"I need a pen now!" Harry yelled. "Quickly!"
Whether it was the tone of his voice or the stormy expression on his face, Dudley jumped up and immediately brought Harry a pen with black ink "What's wrong?" he cried. "What does the letter say?"
Harry snatched the pen and signed his name in large, furious letters. He pressed down so hard that the parchment ripped slightly. At the last curve of the last signed 'R', the parchment went entirely blank. Moments later the reply appeared in bold, black ink, one word at a time:
Wise choice, Potter. I will arrive to administer the antidote tomorrow afternoon at 4:30 p.m.. Make yourself available at that time.
Dudley read each word aloud as they appeared. "What antidote?" he gasped.
The parchment began to smoke, then burst into flames. Harry pushed himself back from the table using one hand to move Dudley to a safe distance. The flames withered leaving no ash. There was no mark on the kitchen table top. Dudley's eyes widened at the sight. "What is this?" he whispered.
"Blackmail," Harry replied grimly.
tbc. . .
A/N Coming in the next chapter, Snape meets Petunia Dursley!