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 I'm sorry that it has taken me so horribly long to update. I have finished the entire story and now only need to edit. Thank you for being so patient. We left off the story with Snape carrying an unconscious Harry up to his bedroom after a confrontation with Petunia. Snape is both furious at having to care for Harry, whom he despises, and having to confront the boy's living conditions. There is nothing like seeing twelve locks on the door to drive the point home. Now the story continues . . .
Lightning Over Hogwarts
Harry woke to the sound of Dudley trying to coax something out from under the bed. Carefully opening his eyes, Harry noticed the low rays of the sun shot through the window to dance on the wall above his bed. It was afternoon, then. Why was he in bed? His head felt strangely light on his shoulders. Harry turned toward the ruckus in his room with extra care.
Dudley was down on all fours, peering under his bed; elbows were bent flat on the floor, rear high in the air. Harry heard him whisper, "Here kitty kitty kitty. Come here, you bloody cat!" From under the bed emerged a loud hiss accompanied by a yowl and a bump against the bottom of the mattress.
Harry remembered Dudley's shirt had been covered in black cat hair. That must be what was under his bed. It didn't sound like the cat wanted to go wherever Dudley wanted it to go. It also sounded big. Really big.
Propping up on one elbow, Harry was rewarded by a nauseous surge in his empty stomach and the unwelcome sight of the crack of Dudley's rear bulging out of the cotton shorts. This was not a sight to wake-up to in a sick bed. At least, he thought he had been sick. Images of Snape yelling at Aunt Petunia crowded his tipsy brain. He must have been hallucinating. Harry felt his own forehead. He didn't seem to have a fever.
The howling under the bed intensified as the mattress vibrated from several impacts. Dudley gave a muffled scream bed before backing out on all fours. Three long, bleeding scratches decorated his pudgy face, from the corner of his eye to the end of his jaw. Harry winced in sympathy. Cat scratches burned.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to grab a cat?" Harry asked in amusement. His voice was really raspy and dry. "You'd better put something on those before they start to swell."
"Harry!" Dudley exclaimed, still on all fours. "You have to drink a glass of water!" Dudley heaved his bulk onto his knees, pointing at a full glass resting on the rickety desk. From under the bed, one wicked paw swiped outward, claws extended. Dudley yelped and scooted backwards.
"Is that the cat you smuggled for Rita?" Harry asked, bemused. "How did you manage to keep it in your shirt? I think it hates you." Harry gratefully reached for the glass of water. He was excruciatingly thirsty.
"Cat? Bloody 'lion' is more like it," Dudley groaned, dodging another swipe of sharpened claws. "Did you see his tail? I've never seen a cat with a tail like that before."
Harry stopped in mid-gulp, choking slightly. A lion's tail? Could it be? No, surely not. He set down the mostly empty glass and leaned over the edge of the bed. Giving Dudley a warning glance, Harry lifted the edge of the dingy sheet and looked under the bed, upside-down.
Bright green eyes reflected what part of the afternoon light that reached under the bed. Harry could make out the profile of large, pointed ears and long whiskers. It looked like an ordinary large cat. Harry scooted further over the edge to reach under the mattress. His stomach sloshed alarmingly from the guzzled water. He wiggled his fingers invitingly and uttered a tentative, "Meow?"
"Meow? Are you mental? That monster practically put my eye out and you 'meow' at it?" Dudley complained loudly.
Harry did feel quite foolish. He remembered Hermione greeting Crookshanks with a meow frequently. His ears started pounding from hanging upside-down as he watched the animal under the bed. After a long pause, the creature meowed back and began to crawl out into the room. Harry pulled himself back on top of the bed. The room spun as his equilibrium reestablished itself.
Harry heard Dudley gasp from a distance. "Nice kitty. You be nice, kitty!" Dudley must have scooted to the furthest corner of the small room for safety.
After what felt like his eyes taking a lazy spin around the back of his head, Harry's vision cleared. Out crawled a black creature with charcoal-gray spots. The effect was very beautiful from the defined tip of large, pointed ears to the sleek black tail. Harry could see the tip of the tail was tufted like a lion, just like Dudley said. Of all the things Harry would have guessed might appear at Privet Drive, this was never one of them.
"It's a Kneazle," Harry marveled. "You brought it home from the shelter?" He looked up at a cringing Dudley. "Oh, stop that. You can't be that afraid if you had it in your shirt."
That got Dudley's attention. "It was different then. That cat started sniffing me and acting all friendly-like. When Rita asked me to help, he practically jumped into my arms. It wasn't until my skin started itching that I thought this was a bad idea. By then, I was on the bus and couldn't do anything about it." Dudley tensed while the Kneazle turned its head to contemplate the overweight teen. The large, green eyes blinked periodically. "Harry, what's a Kneazle?"
"It's a magical creature. They usually only respond to people like me. They are considered very lucky to have around," Harry replied. He wondered why a magical creature would attach itself to his cousin.
"Well, he didn't give me any luck with Rita," Dudley groused. "She turned me down for a date, again." Leaving the far corner, Dudley cautiously approached the bed to sit on the decrepit chair. The battered furniture groaned under his weight. "He really liked your shoes. Kept sniffing the bag I had 'em in."
Shoes? Harry glanced down at his feet. One foot was naked except for dirt and crusted blood. The other foot was clothed in a filthy sock. Harry suddenly remembered lending Dudley his battered trainers. He wondered how he had scraped his foot, but came up blank. "I don't suppose you brought my shoes back?"
"Yeah," Dudley sighed. He reached on the desk and threw a shopping bag onto the bed. "You owe me seven pounds."
Harry looked inside the bag. Beside his shredded trainers was a brightly-white pair of new trainers. They were so white it hurt to look at them. Dudley bought him new shoes? Dudley?
The bed dipped from a sudden weight. Harry looked up to see the Kneazle nuzzling the bag. The creature seemed enamored with his old shoes. With slow movements, Harry reached over and stroked the soft fur. The Kneazle raised green eyes to penetrate his own. After a moment of allowing the caress, the Kneazle stepped away to curl up on the bed. Both teens stared at as the catlike creature lazily closed its eyes to doze.
"A Kneazle with a dirty-shoe fetish," Harry muttered. Turning to Dudley, he offered, "Thanks Dudley. I'll pay you back."
A sharp rap on the door drew their attention. Without waiting for an invitation, the door opened to admit Severus Snape. It was brutally obvious that the man was seriously peeved. He stormed into the room like a thunderclap, black hair flying about cheeks stained red in irritation. Without a word, Snape strode up to the bed thrusting three small vials into Harry's hand.
"Drink," Snape snarled while whipping out his wand.
Harry sat all the way up on the bed and uncapped the first vial. A sniff told him it was a strengthening potion. Harry tossed it back trying to drink without tasting. The second was Pepper Up Potion. He capped that one and set it on the desk. It wouldn't do to take that one in front of his Muggle relatives. The last one he couldn't recognize. It was clear and had an aroma of almonds. Questioningly, he looked up at Snape.
"Is there a problem, Potter?" Snape growled without looking up from his wand waving.
"What is this one?" Harry asked. "I don't recognize it. And I can't take the other one, not in front of Dudley."
Snape froze a moment and then nodded his head. "Very well. That last one is a healing elixir designed to correct physical and emotional exhaustion. It is very precious and requires many hours of exact brewing. You will drink it without complaint, or further questions. Do you understand?" Snape spoke very slowly and coldly. Harry was in no mood to argue with him in this mood. He tipped the bottle back and drank.
Instead of the usual gut-wrenchingly horrible brews, this one was a slightly-sweet syrup laced in almond oil. It was delicious. Harry tapped the bottle of the vial several times to get every drop. It was everything his body craved: a hot meal, a warm blanket and a week of sleep. Harry wished desperately that he had more as he licked the rim of the last traces. Warmth and energy flooded his limbs in surging tingles. The effect was euphorically dizzying.
After a minute, the effects faded into general well-being. Harry looked up and focused on Snape's face. The man was studying him intently even as he pocketed the two empty vials. "What was that? It was wonderful," Harry enthused. "Please sir, can I have some more?"
"No questions, Potter." Snape answered with a guarded expression. "I have undone most of the self-inflicted punishment wreaked on your body. Do not repay me by allowing yourself to become so run-down again. You will not like the next elixir I would bring you." Turning to Dudley, Snape pulled out another vial and placed it in the teen's hand. "You, too, will drink. No questions, Mr. Dursley. Bottoms-up."
Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Dudley was too intimidated to refuse. Glancing to Harry for reassurance, Dudley brought to vial to his lips with trembling hands. Puckered lips took a hesitant sip, and finding the liquid entirely palatable, Dudley drank the bottle down.
"Not bad," Dudley shrugged his shoulders. "What was it?"
"A potion, a medicine if you will, that should aid you in your weight-loss goals," Snape lectured in the same monotone he used in class. "The basis is a combination of plant extracts that should curb appetite and boost the metabolism. It is equally effective on Muggles as Wizards." He leaned threateningly over Dudley to pluck the empty bottle from a meaty hand. "It also has the extra benefit to cause severe and painful vomiting if you consume more than your body can burn. In short, if you binge, you will purge . . . and purge . . . and purge, most unpleasantly." Snape smiled in a cruel predatory way. "I suggest you adhere to the diet plan Potter has laid out. The effects should be the most potent for the next twelve weeks." Dudley merely nodded his agreement frantically.
Harry had to wonder if Snape was bluffing or not. He supposed that it didn't really matter as long as Dudley believed. This was yet another reason to be grateful to his least favorite professor. Harry wasn't sure he could handle so much at one time.
From his spot on the bed, the Kneazle lightly jumped down to twine around Snape's legs. The creature was obviously smitten, rubbing the length of his body sinuously against the man's legs. Snape ceased his menacing of Dudley to look surprised at the animal at his feet. At his look, the Kneazle broke into a loud purr.
"I didn't know you had such a pet," Snape said, distractedly. He crouched down to pet the catlike animal. In turn, the Kneazle enthusiastically responded with a frenzy of head-rubbing and intensified purrs.
"He seems to like you, sir," Harry volunteered with surprise. He watched Snape continue to pet the Kneazle, his stony face relaxing with each stroke. Who would have thought Snape to be a cat person?
"I have never seen such a magnificent specimen," Snape muttered, obviously enthralled. "Its coloring is unique. I don't think I've seen one with charcoal markings. You are a very lucky wizard to have such a creature attached to you."
"He's not mine. He belongs to Dudley," Harry answered, with regret. Harry knew that he would have to find a home for this creature the moment Snape left, regardless of whether Dudley owned it or not.
Snape looked up surprised. "He belongs to your cousin? This was the cat he mentioned?" Snape gave the Kneazle one last, long stroke and rose to his feet. "Mr. Dursley, I would like to purchase this animal from you. Are you interested in selling? A magical creature like this one is undoubtedly a source of trouble for you in your world."
Dudley blinked a few times without answering. Harry wondered if his cousin had even heard the question. Just as he was going to interfere, Dudley spoke up.
"I might be interested. What are you offering?" Dudley answered, rubbing his hands together.
Three hours earlier . . .
"Albus, you unsufferable old man, where are you?" Severus Snape growled as he emerged from the spiral stairs into the Headmaster's Office. His face was a thundercloud of rage.
"Come in, Severus," the aged wizard replied from his overstuffed chair by the fire. "Come in, my boy. Have some fruit cake. I must say, the house-elves have outdone themselves this time."
Albus Dumbledore smiled benevolently over a hovering plate of half-eaten cake. Albus's beard was liberally sprinkled in crumbs. At a gesture, a second slice of cake rose into the air on it's own flying plate.
With a flick on his own wrist, Snape sent the cake and plate crashing against the wall. "I've just come from Little Whinging. Number four, Privet Drive to be exact," Snape snarled. "How could you leave a child in a place like that?"
Dumbledore's face slid from happiness to sorrow. "My word, Severus. This is most unexpected."
An adult wizard is a powerful being. The magic flowing through their veins can easily affect the elements around them. Heightened emotions have been known to result even in changes of weather. On a clear summer's day, a single, malevolent storm cloud churned just above the headmaster's tower as Severus Snape throughly enlightened Albus Dumbledore as to the state of affairs in one Harry Potter's home life. Lightning formed to strike repeatedly at the tower's windows.
"And furthermore, you old conjurer, if you don't remove the boy from that Muggle hell, I will!"
The echo of Snape's threat lingered in the Headmaster's Office just like the smell of ozone from the last volley of lightning strikes. Snape's temper had unleashed a thunderstorm of emotions that literally left the Headmaster's Office smoking from scorch marks. Albus marveled at the damage around him. It was truly impressive.
"That was most unexpected," he muttered to himself.
Harry's plight on Privet Drive was not unknown to him. On the contrary, Albus was guilty of every blame Severus threw at him this day. True, he had been unaware of the extent of the neglect and abuse, but he had always known that things weren't, well, ideal. The weight of that knowledge pressed on him as he summoned a quill and wrote:
Dear Harry,
If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays .
TBC
The letter is a partial reprint of Chapter Three - Will and Won't send by Dumbledore to Harry in the Half-Blood Prince. I thought that I could bridge to the sixth book this way. Of course, the rest of the chapter is just from my own imagination.
I hope you enjoyed this. My deepest apologies for not continuing this story sooner. The pressures of my life have enveloped my time forcing me to abandon most of my pleasurable hobbies. In short, I've been busier than Hermione with three Time Turners.
Please take a moment to either bash me for taking so long, or encouraging me to finish. Thanks for reading!
Surplus Imagination