Uncle Vernon's eyes fell on Harry and he snarled furiously. In just a few strides, he reached his nephew and had a handful of the raven hair clutched in his meaty fist. Kota shouted at Harry to do a spell and Harry finally remembered he had his wand, but Vernon easily wrestled it from him and threw it across the room. Kota screamed and Harry grabbed his uncle's wrists to relieve the pressure on his scalp as the man dragged him toward the door.

The man reeked of alcohol.

Mr. and Mrs. Stenson ran down the stairs and jumped between them and the door.

"I knew it," Vernon barked with a sharp tug to Harry's hair. "I warned you not to try to make a fool out of me, Stenson. This is kidnapping!"

"Let him go!" cried Mrs. Stenson, but Uncle Vernon just jerked Harry close. His fat arm snaked around Harry's neck to hold him in place. Clumsily, Vernon something black and shiny out of his pocket and Harry tried to see what it was. He stilled in terror once he caught a glimpse. The Stensons all took a step back and Mr. Stenson yelled for Kota to get down.

It was a gun.

Everything went from an angered frenzy to a desperate calm in that moment.

"Dursley, put the gun down. If you hurt anyone here in any way, you know you'll be in more trouble with the police than we would ever be for having Harry. Don't do something stupid," Mr. Stenson said, hands held up in front of him as if trying to calm a growling dog.

Vernon waved the gun around carelessly and the Stensons flinched, ready to duck or dive at a moment's notice, knowing it might not be fast enough. Harry, however, was stuck. His uncle may not be sober enough to hit a moving target, but one he was holding in his arms didn't present a great challenge. In a panic, Harry struggled to pull away, but Vernon just gripped him tighter, barely noticing.

"I can do whatever I want with my nephew!" Vernon raved. "He's mine and I'm not going to let you treat the filthy little freak like a king when he should be serving us to make up for all the misery he's brought my family!"

"You can't shoot him, Vernon," Mr. Stenson reasoned. "It doesn't matter if you're his guardian, you can't harm him."

"IT'S MY RIGHT!" Vernon bellowed furiously. He jammed the barrel against Harry's temple and pressed hard as if to prove his point. Harry shut his eyes tightly, scared the gun would go off whether on purpose or not.

Thankfully, Vernon pulled it away again and clumsily shoved it back into his pocket. "But I won't because I'm a good guardian. More than this boy," he gave Harry a hard shake, "deserves. A stake through the heart is what he needs...a burning on a cross...but I won't. I won't get in trouble with those...those freaks." He paused angrily, breathing heavily. It seemed he'd forgotten his train of thought. "I'm taking the boy with me. You come near him again, I'll call the cops! They didn't believe you then and they won't believe you now and if you try, I swear I'll kill him and make it look like an accident!"

Vernon yanked Harry toward the door. He stumbled in his drunken stupor and nearly pulled Harry down with him before the heavy man righted himself.

"Don't make me pull out my gun again!" he threatened and Mr. Stenson helplessly stepped out of the way.

Vernon pulled Harry out into the cold, then let go. He seized Harry's wrist to pull him along, aware of appearances even while he muttered to himself about evil and voodoo and punishment.

Harry glanced back longingly. The Stensons stood at the door, watching him go, but it was obvious they didn't know how to help him anymore.

-

As soon as the door closed behind them at 4 Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon punched him. Harry fell to the floor, clutching his cheek, but Vernon quickly grabbed his hair and half-dragged him to the cupboard under the stairs, threw him inside, and slid the deadbolt into place with a heavy "thunk".

"You stay where you belong, you nasty little worm," Uncle Vernon hissed through the vent, "or I'll make sure you can't even crawl back to that house."

Harry winced as the grate slammed shut.

Harry lay on his cot, glaring at the ceiling while glasses and bottles clinked in the kitchen for another hour or so. Vernon muttered to himself as he stumbled around.

Harry put his hands over his ears to block out the sounds, not wanting to listen to what his uncle's drunken rants.

Angry tears welled up in Harry's eyes. He shut his lids tightly and forced them back.

Merry Christmas to him.

-

The next week, Harry was only let out of his cupboard for chores. The usual grunt work was annoying, but the Dursleys made him serve them food in the living room and clean up after them and that really made things awful. He was nothing but a despised servant again.

He daydreamed about the warm ham and potatoes of the Stensons while he went back to meals of bread crusts or moldy cheese. It seemed being thrust so suddenly back into his life of meager meals made him feel all the more famished. His stomach ached hollowly whenever he smelled the Dursley's dinner cooking.

At least it was only a week. As long as he stayed away from his uncle, and his uncle stayed away from the liquor cabinet, he would survive it as he had survived the previous summer.

-

After what seemed like an eternity of torture, it was finally January third, the day before he could go back to Hogwarts. He cautiously mentioned this to his uncle the evening before and even more warily reminded him that the Stensons still had all his belongings.

"SHHHHH!" Dudley hushed angrily, eyes stuck to the glowing screen.

"If it would be easier for you," he said in a very soft voice, hoping not to set the man off, "Dakota Stenson could drive me. It's really out of your way and I could get my things and..."

"Don't even think about it," Vernon cut him off, barely tearing his eyes from the TV screen. "I'll drive you and we'll pick up your ruddy things on the way."

Harry nodded in disappointment and returned to the sink of dishes.

While lost in his thoughts, Harry became aware of a soft tapping at the window. Hedwig was quietly asking to be let in.

Harry peeked in to make sure the Dursleys were glued to the television and inched up the glass pane, leaving the water running to divert any suspicion. Hedwig held out her leg and Harry realized there was a purpose to Hedwig's visit besides checking up on him.

He removed the small piece of paper and read a sloppily scribbled note from Dakota.

Harry-
Dad passed out. We're at the hospital and I don't think it's good. I think he might die. Please come quick.
-Kota

Harry stared in shock. Mr. Stenson was supposed to have until February! He quickly scratched his own note on the back:

I'll be there ASAP. I have to wait until the Dursleys are asleep. Just get your Dad to hang on until then. If it becomes an emergency send Hedwig right away.
-Harry

Hedwig snatched the note from him in her talons and flew off purposefully. Harry shut the window behind her and went back to the dishes, keeping an eye on the clock that counted down to when whatever the Dursleys were watching would be over.

Finally, the TV was clicked off and the Dursleys went up to bed. Harry made a show of scrubbing the kitchen floor so Aunt Petunia just left him without a word, assuming there was no reason to lock him up for the night. He listened carefully until there were no more sounds of his relatives creeping around.

He tiptoed to the backdoor and slipped out.

The night's air was bitingly cold and Harry shivered in his less-than-adequate clothes. He quietly ran out front and hurried down the deserted street to the Stenson's, using the key they had given him to get in.

He raced up to the guest room where his trunk lay neatly packed, his wand sitting neatly on top. The Stensons had obviously gotten his things ready for him, which made him sad for a reason he couldn't quite understand. He quickly dug out the potion he'd made earlier in the break while everyone had holed themselves up in their rooms wrapping presents. He had thankfully already gone through the pronunciation of the spell; he had wanted to make sure it was even doable before he got Mr. Stenson's hopes up. He certainly wasn't as confident in it as he would have liked, having thought he had much more time to memorize it perfectly, but depending on what the doctors said, he might not have a choice but to take the risk.

From there, he sprinted the three miles to the hospital.

-

The halls of the hospital were white and well lit. Harry knew the atmosphere gave a lot of people the creeps, but he had never had a bad experience in a hospital or even been to one, so he found it almost comforting. In such a sterile, Muggle environment, it was hard to imagine the spell going wrong. He simply couldn't picture something so chaotic happening in such an orderly place.

The receptionist gave him the room number and he hurried up. As he approached the room, he saw Kota and Mrs. Stenson sitting in chairs in the hallway, both looking grim. When they caught sight of him, they both jumped to their feet.

"How is he?"

"He's all right for now. The doctors say he only has a few days left," Mrs. Stenson said worriedly. She frowned and she cupped his cheek, ghosting her thumb over the fading bruise on his cheek. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. We didn't know what..."

"It's nothing," he cut her off, embarrassed. "Can I see him?"

Mrs. Stenson nodded sadly and ushered him through the nearest door.

When they entered the room, Mr. Stenson was sleeping and his wife had to shake him awake. He looked exhausted and shaky and Harry tried to hide his surprise at how much the man had gone downhill in just a week. Harry thought briefly that he would look the same in a few months. When that happened, though, there would be no miracle cure waiting.

"Hey there, Harry," Mr. Stenson started, his wife helping him sit against his pillows. He ushered Harry over with a weak smile, but as Harry walked over, the smile slammed into a deep frown. "He hit you again. And your temple...Jesus."

Harry blushed and looked away, feeling frustratingly ashamed. He knew his temple still was purple from where Vernon had jabbed the gun into it. He didn't want to talk about that, though. It just made him feel weak while he needed to be strong.

"Doesn't matter," Harry dismissed. "I'm going back to school again tomorrow."

"We're going to think of a way to get you out of there, okay?" Mr. Stenson vowed.

Harry nodded. He had already found his own way out. If he was dead by the time summer rolled around, he wouldn't have to spend another second with his relatives.

"Are you ready to try the spell?" Harry asked, his stomach tensing with nerves. "You do remember about the possible consequences, right?"

Mr. Stenson nodded, but didn't look nearly as worried as Harry felt. "Of course. Why don't you give me a minute with my family, just in case."

Harry was briefly stung that that didn't include him, but knew that was unfair. Just because he'd been waiting for a family all his life didn't mean the Stensons were accepting applications for a son. Not yet, anyway. But maybe once they found out what he'd done...

Harry waited in the hall as the Stensons had their moment. He pulled out the crumpled paper and tried to still his shaking hands by reading through it, his lips moving in soft whispers. At this point, he couldn't learn it any better, but going through it mechanically took his mind off what could happen if things went wrong...or what would happen if they went right.

He jumped when the door opened and Mrs. Stenson emerged with a sobbing Kota and gestured him in.

Harry's legs felt shaky but they carried him to Mr. Stenson's side. He took an empty cup off the nightstand and filled it with half the potion. He gave it to a waiting Mr. Stenson, who looked at the swirling brown liquid warily.

"What exactly is in this?"

"Um, eye of newt, bat droppings, tongue of dog..."

Mr. Stenson paled even further.

Harry smirked. "Just kidding. Mostly just herbs and stuff. Remember to focus on expelling the cancer, okay? Concentrate as hard as you can. So, just drink up and be prepared for an awful taste," he said, raising the vial to his own lips.

"Wait, Harry," Mr. Stenson said, putting up a hand. "Just in case this is the last time I can say it, I want you to know that if I'd ever had a son, I hope he would've turned out like you."

Harry inhaled sharply, stunned by the compliment. Nobody had ever said anything like that before. After a long pause, not knowing how to respond, Harry finally spoke.

"Well, if this works, you'll still have time to have that son."

With that, Harry downed his portion of the potion in one gulp. It was absolutely putrid and Harry was afraid it would come back up. As he pulled out the paper, he noticed he was feeling dizzy and, more oddly, felt like something cold was swimming around inside of him. Still, it was better than Polyjuice.

"Okay, it's down for now," Mr. Stenson said, looking slightly green around the gills.

Harry pulled out his wand and took a deep breath. "All right, here goes. Just lie down and close your eyes. I'm guessing this won't feel too good."

Having made sure Mr. Stenson followed his instructions, Harry took a deep breath and began reading off the spell.

After the first time through, Mr. Stenson balled his hands into fists with a pained grunt, his face grimacing in pain. A green glow surrounded him and began turning redder and redder until there was no trace of green. Mr. Stenson became visibly relaxed but was still gasping for breath, keeping his eyes tightly closed.

Harry read it a second time and at the end, his own body began to tingle. It was uncomfortable and made him want to scratch all over. The light around Mr. Stenson gathered into a red sphere above his chest.

Harry read the spell one last time.

A jet of light shot out from the sphere and hit Harry in the chest. Harry dropped his wand and gasped for breath, but couldn't. It hurt. He slapped his hands over the spot where the light was attacking him, praying it would stop it, but the light went through his hands as if they weren't there.

Harry dropped to his knees, his vision wavering. Instead of blackness, all he could see was red. Red everywhere. The spell had failed. It was killing him.

He looked up to Mr. Stenson in apology, but the man was lying deathly still.

The last thing Harry saw was the last of the malevolent red light being sucked into his chest.

-

"Harry. Harry!"

Harry felt a pair of hands gently shake him and he opened his eyes, blinking up at Kota in momentary confusion. He tried to speak but it came out as a groan.

Then, suddenly remembering what had happened, he jolted upright.

"Are you alright?" she asked him worriedly. She probably hadn't expected to come in and find him unconscious on the floor. In all fairness, he hadn't known about that either.

"Yeah," he said, as she helped him stand, "I'm okay. How's your dad?"

She stepped aside to let Harry see the hospital bed. Mr. Stenson sat upright, very much alive and livelier than he had been before. Mrs. Stenson sat beside him, clutching his hand.

"Does this mean it worked?" Mrs. Stenson asked hopefully.

"Kathryn," Mr. Stenson chided quietly, then turned to Harry. "Are you okay? What happened?'

Harry shrugged. "It was a big spell. It was just a bit much, I guess, but I'm fine now. How do you feel?"

"Better than I have in quite a while. I don't feel any symptoms," he reported cautiously.

"Well, before you get your hopes up, can you get retested for it?" Harry asked. He prayed he hadn't messed things up after all this. The Stensons would hate him.

Mr. Stenson pushed a button to call for the nurse, who in turn fetched a doctor at Mr. Stenson's strange request.

"This type of cancer doesn't just turn around like that, especially this late. It's impossible," the doctor said apologetically.

"Listen, I'll pay whatever it costs but I want the tests done," Mr. Stenson insisted.

Eventually, he wore the man down and the doctor drew a blood sample. He said a quick test should show the cancer since it was at such an advanced stage.

They waited for hours...agonizingly long hours with no word until the doctor came back, looking dazed and mystified. It reminded Harry abruptly of Lockhart after he had lost his memory.

"It seems..." He paused and shook his head as though he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "It seems that in at least preliminary tests, we...we can't find any trace of the cancer. We'll have to do more extensive testing to see if there are any traces, but frankly, Mr. Stenson, you're a medical miracle. I guess you're free to go for now and we'll call you if we find anything."

He opened and closed his mouth as if wanting to say something that made sense, but finding himself at a loss. Giving up, the doctor left the room.

There was laughter and tears and Harry was showered with hugs and thanks.

-

The Stensons drove Harry home, or near to his house so not to get him in trouble. Harry let them know he'd be stopping by the next day to pick up his belongings and waved goodbye as they drove off.

Harry slipped quickly around back and opened the door without a sound. The house was completely dark. He pulled off his shoes and tiptoed back to his cupboard, too high from all the praise and happiness of the evening to think much about what the spell meant for him.

He opened his cupboard door, eager for sleep. He started to step in but stilled as the kitchen door creaked open behind him.

Harry whirled around to find his uncle standing in the doorway, a near-empty whisky bottle in hand and a deadly gleam in his eyes.