13)Up in Smoke
When Arthur Weasley got a message back from Harry Potter, his eyebrows went nearly to his forehead.
"…If just one of you could come, it would be best. I don't have a great deal of things to bring, and my relatives are uncomfortable with magicals..."
The stories he'd heard, or overheard, about the Potter lad's upbringing, along with this letter, led Arthur to access his very rarely utilized common sense. He'd not try to floo. He'd not try to apparate. Instead, he'd use this opportunity to take a tixi. Or was it tuxi? He was sure they also called it a crub. Whatever, he'd use some of the money Albus had given them to house the Potter lad for this trip.
He believed he probably owed the child, since it was using the Boy Who Lived cache that scored so many tickets in the Minister's box… though he doubted young Harry knew that.
So when he knocked on the door to Number 4 Privet Drive – wondering all the while how these people knew which house was theirs? They all looked alike to Arthur's eye – he caught the Dursleys by a bit of surprise.
"Good afternoon?" the rather thin woman asked with a pinched expression. He wondered if she had some muggle ailment that made her look as though she smelled dogs' droppings.
"I am Arthur Weasley. I have come to take Mr. Potter for the rest of the holiday? He did speak with you?"
Petunia noticed the taxi-cab waiting outside the premises behind the almost normally dressed man in front of her. One eyebrow pitched as she made a moue of distaste. She heard her husband approaching the door and prayed to whatever gods there were that there would be no confrontation with this freak.
The summer had gone surprisingly well after Vernon had laid into the freak. The gardens were stunning; the house hadn't a speck of dirt or a mote of dust anywhere (except, perhaps, dear Didders' room. But boys will be boys!)
Vernon looked at the man on the stoop. The not-quite-right clothing told its own story and his eyes glowed with happiness. The freak was leaving! "BOY!" he bellowed, but without rancor.
The child in question came down the stairs carrying a rucksack – where had that come from? – but nothing else.
"Hello Harry!"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley!"
"Haven't you packed your trunk, then?"
"Oh, my trunk is gone. The Dursleys burnt it up when I first got back from the train."
Arthur paled then reddened.
"Don't you say a word. The boy deserved it. Blowing up my sister. If he didn't have freakish things then he couldn't do freakish things." The revenge had been sweet in Dursley's memory. Dudley had, of course, rooted through the trunk before. The freak had pictures of his parents and other things that had come from friends. The freak shouldn't be allowed to have friends. The freak shouldn't even be alive, but without him, the house itself would be unprotected. So, it had been the best of both worlds. He got the protection from freaks, but he didn't have to put up with poison in his own home. Making the little freak who looked so much like his pampered prick of a father miserable was just icing on Vernon's conflagration cake.
Arthur, on the other hand, was thinking of ramifications. He knew that at least one priceless Potter heirloom had been in that trunk – Albus had warned him the boy had the invisibility cloak just in case of mischief. And the firebolt. That alone was several years' salary for Arthur. And what of Hedwig? That owl… so beautiful, so irreplaceable.
Harry saw the triumph in the whale's eyes and the tragedy in Weasley's eyes and decided to nip hostilities in the bud.
"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Weasley. Hedwig is the most important thing and I left her with Hermione for the summer. I thought the Dursley's might be a bit reluctant to have me back and they've taken that out on Hedwig before. My wand I tied to my arm before I got off the train and had Ollie transfigure a wrapper into something that looked like my wand. Uncle Vernon only thought he burned my wand."
Arthur took a deep breath to contain his Weasley temper. "Well, it will be tight but Molly can buy everything you need tomorrow while we're at the match." He didn't mention needing Harry's key as he really didn't want these people knowing Harry had some money.
"Oh, no, Mr. Weasley. I don't need anything, I don't think. You remember Dobby? He's working at Hogwarts. I had him go through the lost and found. He's replaced just about everything I need. I didn't even have to pay for it! Some of the books are written in but they're still fine for me." Harry was very proud that he didn't look directly at Uncle Vernon's face as he said that. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rotund man's color rising, and the feeling of satisfaction at that acknowledgement (Harry Won!) put a big smile on Harry's face.
"Well," Arthur said stiffly, "we should be going."
"I'd like to say goodbye to my relatives in private, if you don't mind," Harry asked. Arthur paused, and then decided the boy had the right. He nodded and walked to the taxi.
"Thought you'd got me, yeah? You burned a bunch of useless stuff. I've got better now. You lose. Again."
"How dare you speak to me in such a manner. You will respect me," his skin turned an unhealthy shade but his voice didn't bellow. Wouldn't want to alert the freak at the curb, after all. "We've given you a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in your belly…"
"Not much of any of those, if you're truthful, and not nearly what the substantial monthly stipend from the Potter Trust would have paid for, Uncle Vernon. I do wonder what the auditors will say about how you've spent the money meant to raise me."
Putting the cold fear in his stomach aside – how did the boy find out about those payments? – Vernon glared at Harry. "You and your freakishness – no one wanted you. We've given you a home when no one else could be bothered."
Harry quirked an eyebrow, his visage cold as the arctic.
"This is not my home. This has never been my home. This will never be my home." Vernon's eyes widened in panic, remembering parts of the letter his Pet had stressed to him. The only reason the bad freaks didn't kill them is because the little freak considered Number 4 Privet his home.
Harry smiled grimly at his uncle. "I see you have a small clue what that means, dear Uncle Vernon. I know some truly evil freaks. I'm going to make sure they know this address. I'm going to make sure to repay your… kindnesses. They'll probably torture you almost to death before they light this place on fire. Think, all you had to do was leave me be. But you never were content with that, were you? Well, have a good year! With any luck, I won't be seeing you!"
Harry skipped off to join Mr. Weasley, putting his Gryffindor façade back on. Wouldn't do to have them think he might be sneaky, because then they might think he'd thought ahead about the important stuff, like he'd thought ahead about Hedwig. Wouldn't do for them to know he'd had Dobby put his broom and other sentimental things in a charmed box (the lost and found at Hogwarts had LOTS of stuff) now stored in his Gringott's vault, or that Dobby got him a mokeskin bag for his thought-to-be-destroyed cloak and map.
Wouldn't do for them to know he'd brought down the wards on that stupid torture chamber on purpose.
Harry had enemies, but by his way of thinking? He now had at least two fewer.
(*) (*)
~~fin~~
As close as I come to a Dark Harry.