AN: This chapter is longer than the others, tell me if y'all like it or if you want shorter chapters.
Warning: This chapters contains references to child/ spousal abuse. Nothing graphic but better safe than sorry.
Chapter 5:
Something was off on Privet Drive, Harry could feel it. For the longest time, the house and the people who lived in it tried so hard to be normal that anything else felt wrong.
But, now something new had arrived. Maybe it was the new coldness that existed between his aunt and uncle when they picked him up, where they refused to speak more than single sentences to each other. Maybe it was his uncle snapping at Dudley about his posture as Harry started to make dinner, but something was wrong.
It was only after dinner that he found out just how much trouble he was in.
After they had finished eating, Aunt Petunia and Dudley practically threw their plates at him and ran out of the room. His uncle walked over to a cabinet beside the stove and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He walked back to the table and threw back a large portion of the bottle. Great bubbles of air floated to the top of the bottle as he drank
Harry took an involuntary step backwards, his entire body filling with horror. His uncle didn't drink, not seriously, and hadn't for years. The last time had been when he was just a kid, and it had gone very badly…
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he grabbed the dirty plates and made his way over to the sink. As he washed Harry could now see evidence of his uncle's drinking all over the house. Liquor bottles spilled out of the trash, brown stains adorned Aunt Petunias carpet and couch, a reek of filth hung in the air.
Aunt Petunia and Dudley had seemed to be shaken but unharmed which was good, but he had to worry about his own safety now. When Uncle Vernon drank, his number one target became Harry and he didn't have the same morals or fears that his uncle had when he was sober.
When he had been a kid, he had separated his uncle into two different people in his mind: Sober was Uncle Vernon while intoxicated was Drunk Uncle. Drunk Uncle had haunted his dreams as a child, a nightmarish standout among the other injustices.
If Uncle Vernon was drinking heavily again, he couldn't worry about reading the journal or doing his homework.
He had to worry about staying alive.
"BOY" his uncle slurred "Get ova here."
Harry stopped washing, but stood as far away from his Uncle as possible
"I don't wanna see any funny business from you or there won't be enough of ya to send back to that…" He paused to take another long draw on the whiskey. "…place" he finished lamely.
"I don't wanna see you expect when you fixing supper. Kapche?"
Harry nodded and hurried out of the kitchen while his uncle retrieved another bottle of whiskey. His aunt caught him at the bottom of the stairs.
"About two weeks ago, he lost out on a contract at work and got demoted. Just stay out of his way."
The sound of shattering glass out of the kitchen made both of them jump.
I'll bring you your meals" she whispered hurriedly "don't come out of your room."
"PETUNIA!" his uncle roared.
"Coming dear" Aunt Petunia called fearfully, giving Harry a pointed look.
He seized his trunk and Hedwig and made his way up to his bedroom.
The first thing he did was move his desk in front of his door. Just in case.
That night, he dreamed of the last time he had seen his uncle drink. It had been a problem off and on throughout his early childhood, but one night it had all come to a head.
Harry was five years old, and getting ready to go to bed in his cupboard. Uncle Vernon hadn't been home for dinner and that was unusual. He never worked late if he could help it, always trying to be home for dinner.
Suddenly, the door to the house flew open with a thunderous crash. A heavy weight, his uncle, staggered down the hall, crashing into the walls as he went. He hit Harry's cabinet door which was nearly taken off its hinges by the force. Harry curled back onto his bed in fear.
Aunt Petunia rushed down the stairs, squawking at the top of her voice. "You'll wake Dudley! The neighbors will hear! What is the matter with you?!"
"Ah shut up, you miserable hag." His uncle's voice rang out. A loud crack echoed through the downstairs, followed by his aunt's shrill shriek and a loud thump as something hit the floor.
"BOY" his uncle bellowed as he began to fiddle with the door. Harry shrank back into the corner as far as he could go. Frustrated with the locks, his uncle seized the weakened door and ripped it from it hinges. He reached in and gripped Harry by the shirt.
Harry stared into the face of something that certainty wasn't his uncle. His uncle's face wasn't quite so purple or bulging, and his eyes were not so red and angry.
"Sleeping eh? Not going to take up good space in my house. No sir, not if Vernon Dursley has anything to say about it"
Uncle Vernon dragged Harry by the shirt into the kitchen. Behind his uncle, Harry could see his Aunt lying face down on the landing of the staircase. She wasn't moving.
Harry was practically thrown across the kitchen where he collided headfirst with the sliding glass door. His head splitting with pain, Harry looked up to see his uncle grabbing a knife from the block by the stove.
He advanced on Harry and raised the knife. "This will teach you to be a layabout in my house!"
Harry experienced a strange tightening in his chest and felt a force explode out from him.
The knife burst into flames. Uncle Vernon dropped it yowling in pain
The force pinned him to the wall crashed his uncle into the cabinets and then held him against the wall. Harry watched in stunned amazement as the remaining knives rose out of the block and hurled themselves at the pinned man, embedding in the wall an inch from his face.
Suddenly the large man was pulled across the room, crashing through the glass sliding doors before coming to a stop on the patio outside.
Harry sat, stunned and silent, in the ruined kitchen unable to believe what he had seen.
And that was where he was found in the morning.
Harry sat up in bed in a cold sweat. He hadn't thought about that night in years. When he was found, it was assumed that Vernon had stumbled and fallen into the cabinets and through the sliding door on his own. Aunt Petunia had steadfastly claimed to investigators that she had tripped down the stairs going to investigate the noise and that was how she got a black eye and bruises.
With no evidence or witnesses the police has been forced to let it go. His uncle swore never to drink heavily again, and had for the most part kept his promise. The Dursleys bought a new door for their cupboard and patio and tried to put the whole thing behind them.
But Harry never forgot what happened. Now, almost ten years later, his uncle was drinking again. Hard from the looks of it.
If history was anything to go by, he wouldn't have to wait until next school year to fight monsters again.
One was living down the hall.
It was almost a week later that he remembered Slytherin's Journal sitting at the bottom of his trunk.
The shock of seeing a drunk Uncle Vernon again had driven all thoughts of fantastical, universe bending rocks from his mind. He had automatically started on his homework and chores and that had kept him busy.
But now, with all of his homework done and boredom setting in, he remembered the little black book he had gone to so much trouble to retrieve. He had nothing but time now and was anxious to confirm his theories.
He dug through his trunk until he found it, sat on his bed, and began to read:
September 12, 1012 AD
Last night something miraculous happened. Something that defies even the convoluted logic that we wizards live with every day.
We discovered a being from another world.
After the students were banished to their dormitory for the night, my friends and I were settling down for a nightcap when we heard the most tremendous crash from outside and felt the ground heave as though it had been struck.
Fearing yet another pointless dispute with the centaurs, we hurried outside only to discover a strange man lying near the woods. Only it was like no man I, or anyone, has ever seen. It was at least half a man taller than Godric and a full man taller than I.
His complexion was a deep purple and his body was crossed with scars as it had seen tremendous battle. Its throat was a ruin as if a god had taken an axe or a sword to it. I had never seen such damage on a creature that was still living. Of course, it died shortly after we found it, and we burned its corpse on the shores of the lake where no students would find it.
Before it died, it passed… something on to us. With its last action, it past us its golden gauntlet which was embedded with the most marvelous, glowing stones and implored us to protect it.
Just picking up this gauntlet was enough to behold that it held great power. Truly great power the likes of which I have never seen. The likes of which I don't think anyone has ever seen.
This requires further investigation and study for sure.
Harry was ecstatic. Here was proof that the stones existed! The thought briefly crossed his mind this may all have been an elaborate prank but he shoved it away. The book was too ancient for anyone to have made it recently. The pages crinkled with age and history in a way only an ancient book can.
Harry made to read another page when he noticed that the sun was starting to get low in the sky. He had a full day of chores to do tomorrow and didn't want to give his aunt a reason to yell.
Besides he had time.
Over the next several weeks Harry developed an steady routine with his relatives. Every morning he would get up before everyone else and make breakfast before returning to his room.
Once he was sure his uncle was gone for the day, he would emerge and work on the days chores during the rest of the morning and afternoon. If by 5 his work was deemed to be satisfactory, he was allowed to stop and go to the kitchen for a sandwich. He would then return to his room for the rest of the night where his aunt delivered his dinner through the cat flap that was installed last summer.
This arrangement worked fine for Harry as it meant he almost never had to see his uncle, and he got plenty of time to study the journal.
October 28, 1012 AD
Today we made a breakthrough! We discovered that each of the gemstones, which the creature called Infinity Stones, acts as a conduit for energy on a massive scale. Rowena has taken charge on the research, because of course she has, and started experimenting.
Today she cast a blasting hex and the purple stone absorbed the entire thing! Without even leaving a mark! We all took turns casting various hexes on the stone before we were called away for our responsibilities. Perhaps we shall be able to use the stones in our future research…
Harry turned the page
October 29, 1012 AD
So it appears that the purple stone does not just absorb energy. It amplifies it as well. Helga went to touch the stone today, and nearly destroyed half the castle from the shock wave.
We will have to be more careful.
April, 5, 1013 AD
After much risk and work, we have finally managed to remove the stones from the gauntlet. It took a summoning charm, a weightless charm, and a greasing charm (although Godric may have been making a joke) but we have finally separated it into seven different parts. For now, we have put each of the stones and the gauntlet into different rooms. For safety purposes that is.
Tomorrow we will be able to focus our efforts on a single stone rather than all of them. This will allow us to focus our efforts and see what each stone does without risking magical feedback again.
June 18th, 1013 AD
The green stone haunts my dream. We have made progress on each of the others but this one stubbornly refuses to do anything.
Godric has attached the purple stone to his wand and cast incredible magic beyond the likes of anything I have ever seen. He froze the entire lake into a solid sheet of ice so the students could go ice skating in the summer!
Helga used the red stone to change the castle masonry into pastries (and back again) but the green stone continues to elude us.
It must do something. I can do this. I am one of the strongest wizards in the world. I will solve this riddle.
November 22, 1013 AD
It has taken many months of devoted effort and consultation with every expert I know of but I have finally figured out what element this stone is attuned to. Time!
The wielder of this stone has complete mastery over the element of time! In just a few days of experimentation, I have been able to speed and slow time as well as age or de age something.
Godric was most displeased that I may him relive his teenage years again but Rowena and I had fun.
With that discovered we have discovered the properties of each of the six stones that was gifted to us by the purple being:
Green: Mastery over time motion
Red: Reality and changing the physical properties of objects
Blue: Ability to warp and control physical space
Yellow: Power over consciousness and the weak minded
Purple: Store and amplify power and energy
Orange: Communication with spirits
Each of these objects are supremely powerful on their own. The space stone can be used to travel across the entire world and through the strongest wards in a second.
The power of these artifacts is unlike anything I have ever encountered. We could use these to bridge the gap between magical and not magical, maybe even give a form of magic to muggles. We could elevate the muggles to the level of power that we wizards enjoy every day.
Maybe we could make a whole new world, a better world. I feel as though we have barely scratched the surface of what we can do.
I can't wait to get started
Harry felt as if he had been handed very dangerous information. For some reason, this Slytherin didn't sound like the Slytherin that he had learned about. And what of these Infinity Stones? Artifacts that could reverse the flow of time or let someone alter reality on a massive scale? This was all too much.
He was only twelve almost thirteen. He shouldn't have to have knowledge of something that would allow him to talk with the dead!
For a brief second, he considered writing to Dumbledore, explaining what had really happened after he went missing from the Chamber and giving him the journal. Dumbledore would take care of it, and he would not have this burden on him.
He got up, pulled out a piece of parchment, and was setting his quill in the ink when he stopped.
"Think it through" he said quietly to himself "pull a Hermione"
If he gave the book to Dumbledore, he would be rid of it but how much did he really know about Dumbledore? He seemed like a good man but how could Harry really be sure? It wasn't as though he really knew him after all. As old as he was, Dumbledore was probably a good actor; what would he do with the information?
But even if Dumbledore was as good a man as he thought, there was no guarantee that he would keep the information to himself. There was a good chance that someone like Lucius Malfoy or the Minster for Magic finding out. Did he really want someone like that finding out that the stones actually existed and potentially using them?
Then Harry had another chilling thought. If Lucius Malfoy found about the stones, wouldn't Voldemort? Harry knew he was still out there, had seen him escape Quirrell's body at the end of his first year. What would the world be like if Voldemort got the stones and used them?
Thoughts of a super-powered Voldemort returned to a body flitted through his mind. Imagined screams echoed in his ears.
Slowly Harry put down the quill. No, he couldn't tell anyone. No one could know, only him. He would have to take this secret to his grave. It was a sobering thought for him to process.
He slowly look around his room. It was quiet, Hedwig was out hunting. The clock by his bedside read that it was 1:00 am. With a jolt, Harry realized that it was the 31st of July, his birthday.
He had been 13 for a whole hour and hadn't realized it.
Deciding that he would probably feel better in the morning, Harry decided to call it a night.
When he went downstairs the next morning to start his chores, Harry was met with a rather unwelcome sight: His uncle was still sitting at the table. He looked sober enough but the sight of him was still enough to set Harry on edge.
The entire family was facing towards the brand new TV that his Aunt had bought after Dudley had complained that he could not watch two shows at once without changing the channel.
A tall, thin man was just finishing up a rather important looking newscast standing on a shabby looking dock.
"… Authorities have no idea how Black was able to escape the heavily secured facility but they warn that he is armed and dangerous. Citizens are advised not to engage if they see him and call the hotline below."
A phone number flashed on the screen beneath a picture of a man who looked like he had been living in the woods for his whole life. His sunken and dead eyes were framed by hair that look as though it had never before seen a barber. His face was smeared with dirt and his yellowed teeth were bared in a feral grin.
The sight of him sent a shiver through Harry's body, although he wasn't quite sure why.
"Look at that hair, no wonder he was in prison. No respectable member of society looks like that. Kill em all I say." Uncle Vernon griped, turning back to his breakfast. He saw Harry and his eyes narrowed.
"Boy, your Aunt Marge is coming in an hour. Make yourself look presentable."
Harry had to suppress a groan. Aunt Marge was a terror even on her good days. She liked to have her beloved pet bulldogs chase Harry for hours when he was younger to "build character in the runt."
"How long is she staying?"
"Two weeks. Now make sure none of your freakishness is on display. If she even suspects anything, i'll put you back in that cupboard in pieces."
Anxious to enjoy his last Marge free hours, Harry quickly wolfed down his single piece of toast and returned to his room. He tried to read, but all too soon he heard the sound of a car in the driveway.
Marge looked extraordinarily like his uncle, down to the impressive mustache that adorned her upper lip. She looked as though she had gained at least twenty pounds since he had last seen her, which was impressive at her size. She almost had to squeeze sideways in order to fit through the door.
"Vernon! Good to see you" Marge boomed. She shoved her suitcases into Harry's arms without looking at him.
He heaved the bags up to the spare bedroom before returning to the kitchen. Normally, he wouldn't bother but he knew that Marge would want to see him.
By the time he had returned to the kitchen, Marge and Vernon were already sharing a bottle of brandy.
"So it's going to be that kind of evening" Harry thought grimly.
Marge zeroed in on Harry. "Ah, your still here aren't you."
"Yes"
"You know Vernon, if he had been dropped on my doorstep I would have taken him out back and drowned him in the well, as small as he is. No place for weakness with dogs you know."
Ignoring Marge's threats and bluster, Harry went to make himself a sandwich. He found himself blocked by Marge's bulk.
"What do you think you are doing." She shrieked "Taking Vernon's food like it belongs to you! GET OUT!" She grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck like a dog and bodily tossed him from the kitchen. She slammed the door behind her.
Things only got worse by dinner. By this time, Marge and Vernon had consumed all the liquor that she had brought with her and were visibly staggering.
As Harry was serving the roast and carrots, Marge set in on her favorite target: him.
"So you just let the boy wear his hair like that Petunia? Doesn't it embarrass you?"
Aunt Petunia gave a dry shrug "Everything he does shames us, why should we care about one more thing?"
"But I guess a thug like him has no sense or shame anyway. He has no future beyond mopping floors anyway."
She shot him a glance, hoping to see a reaction. Seeing him still calm, Marge decided to go in on the big guns.
"So his parents, what were they again? A whore and a junkie? Maybe they were both whores. Never know what you're going to do for a fix when they get desperate. Probably got shot in a gang shootout"
Harry slammed the plate down on the counter, carrots flying everywhere. He had to remain calm, had to get out of here. He couldn't lose control and do accidental magic, not again. He couldn't let her get to him…
Marge, seeing a reaction, went in for the kill. "But I guess you'll never know will you? I say three cheers for the hero who finally offed them, taking out trash like that. Good riddance!"
"Marge!" Aunt Petunia said, affronted that she was ruining dinner, but the damage was done.
Harry felt a balloon of anger expand in his chest, a tidal wave of fury that overwhelmed his other senses. He saw nothing but red.
"Shut up" he said quietly.
"What did you say to me?" Marge boomed
"I SAID SHUT UP, YOU COW." Harry bellowed, whirling to face her. The lights in the kitchen flickered and dimmed.
"Marge…" Aunt Petunia said worriedly.
"No need Petunia, let me straighten out this trash."
Marge heaved herself out of her chair and waddled over to him. She regarded him coldly for a moment. Then she reared back and backhanded Harry across the face. He felt his feet actually leave the ground as he slammed into the cabinets next to the sink.
Marge delivered a sharp kick to his stomach. "NEVER SPEAK TO YOUR BETTERS LIKE THAT. You, boy aren't fit to serve my wine, let alone eat at my table. You belong in the trash like your whore parents and if I had any mercy I would put you in the ground." She kicked him again, this time in the side of the head. She turned to head back to the table as if he no longer interested her.
Harry felt the balloon in his chest burst. All the appliances and lights in the kitchen began to spark and flash wildly.
Marge turned around and looked confusedly between the surge and Harry.
"Boy what are you…"
All of the appliances exploded at once, the streams of electricity combining and lancing through Marge.
She was blown off her feet like a ragdoll and crashed through the far wall of the living room. Her bulk meant that she took a good deal of the wall with her. She lay, unmoving, sparking and twitching looking for all the world as though she had just been struck by lightning. Her enormous jumper caught fire.
The kitchen was still for a moment, everyone stunned by what had happened. Harry jumped to his feet, and sprinted for his bedroom. He had to get out now, before the Dursleys recovered and stopped him. He didn't know where he would go but he had to leave.
He pelted things into trunk, closed it, grabbed Hedwig's empty cage. He made sure he had Slytherin's journal in his bag before he left.
Uncle Vernon met him at the bottom of the stairs. His face was purple, almost blue and his voice slurred as he screamed.
"YOU FIX HER, YOU FIX HER NOW. I WILL PUT YOU INTO THE GROUND, DO YOU HEAR ME?"
His fingers closed around Harry's throat. A pop of electricity from Harry's skin forced his fingers away. An invisible force lifted and threw him across the room where he crashed into the fireplace. He crumpled to the ground in a shower of bricks and blood.
Harry threw open the door and marched out into the night, leaving a broken wall and a still burning Marge in his wake.
He got two blocks away before he determined that no one was following him.
He collapsed onto the sidewalk, sitting on the curb. He was tired. He was hungry. His throat hurt from the brief moment that Vernon had tried to strangle him. And this wasn't even his worst birthday.
Most of all, he realized, he was tired of bullies. Tired of people like Marge and Vernon and even Voldemort. People who would try to bully and kill him just because they thought they were bigger and better than him. He always ran away because he couldn't fight back. One day his luck would run out: If his relatives didn't beat him to death, Voldemort would get him. He was so tired of running and being afraid for his life. If he didn't take control, he was going to go insane.
"That's it" Harry said out loud to himself "I'm done running."
The only way to get them to stop would be to become bigger, smarter or more powerful than them. He would never be bigger than Marge or smarter than Voldemort but he could be become more powerful, the most powerful person on earth. And he would never be in danger again. The answer was sitting in his bag.
It was there, sitting on the sidewalk of Wisteria Walk, that Harry Potter committed to the quest that would change everything.
He was going to get all of the Infinity Stones.
Or die trying.