Warning
This chapter will contain a scene of physical abuse. I do not condone physical abuse, and I would hope that no one reading this does either. But child abuse does exist and in each of the first three books Rowling hinted that it was something that happened to Harry. In the Sorcerers/Philosophers Stone Vernon said that freakishness could be cured by a good beating. In Chamber of Secrets, after Dobby dropped the pudding on a guest Vernon said he was going to flay Harry. In Prisoner of Azkaban Vernon raised a fist and threatened to knock the stuffing out of Harry if he let slip anything about being a wizard to Aunt Marge.
There will be a warning (second intermission) for when the scene is going to start and another for when it will end (third intermission). It is not particularly graphic, but I do see it as different from physical punishment. If you prefer not to read it feel free to skip it.
Marge's Visit
On Monday evening Marge Dursley stomped into 4 Privet Drive. "Boy, take my luggage to my room."
"Yes, ma'am."
Excerpt from plan... Be extra nice. Even if I don't want to.
Harry lugged the suitcases to the guest room, then opened each and proceeded to put his Aunt's things where they belonged. Harry hoped that Aunt Marge would appreciate not needing to unpack, but she could just as easily throw a fit due to him touching her stuff.
Tuesday morning, just before Marge awoke, Harry could be found outside weeding the rose bed.
Excerpt from plan... Keep busy elsewhere. Chores suck, but if they keep me from arguing with Marge...
Harry felt like a house elf. And he hated it. For the first time in his life he wasn't doing chores because he was ordered to, but of his own volition as a means of staying away from Aunt Marge as much as possible. He had been told he wasn't allowed to go to the Y while Aunt Marge was visiting.
So, if Marge was watching television, Harry was mowing the lawn. If Marge was conversing with Petunia, Harry was making beds.
Thursday afternoon found Harry locked securely in his room.
Excerpt from plan...Get locked in (just not for bothering Marge).
Earlier that morning Harry had "accidentally" spilt orange juice down the back of Dudley's shirt. Actually, he didn't even try to make it look like an accident. He simply poured directly from the pitcher onto Dudley's shirt. But, like any normal child he lied and attempted to get himself out of trouble.
"Aunt Petunia, I swear. I didn't mean to spill the juice on him."
That lie and his actions had earned him the first well deserved swat he had ever received from her. An outraged Petunia had hauled him to his room by the ear and clicked the locks into place. Her angry voice rattled the door, "No meals and you won't be leaving this room until I say so!"
That was fine by Harry. If he was locked in his room he couldn't get in trouble for upsetting Aunt Marge.
Harry spent the rest of Thursday and most of Friday writing letters to his friends, eating meals from Edesia's, reading comics and brewing the potion needed for the final part of his plan.
He had been worried about a smoke detector going off. If he got caught making potions Uncle Vernon would kill him. It didn't matter that the wizarding world viewed potion brewing as using magic, not performing it (at least from what Harry could tell), his Uncle wouldn't see it that way.
Harry was fairly certain Snape wouldn't approve either, but Snape wasn't here. Besides, Snape had approved the use of magic as long as he didn't perform magic. Snape had given him a passing grade on the, You Lack Any Understanding of the Wizarding World assignment, so brewing must be an okay thing for him to do.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"$#!^!," Harry raced from his hiding spot behind his bed, flipped the unlock Snape had installed and trotted into Dudley's bedroom. As quick as he could, he lit one of the cigarettes he had found stashed in Dudley's pocket when he had gone looking for a lighter to use under the cauldron. Leaving it atop the mostly non-flammable game system controller Harry flew back to his room and as quietly as he could shut and relocked his door. Heart hammering he yelled, "Hey! Let me out! What's going on?"
Uncle Vernon swung the door open. "What did you do, Boy?"
Harry's brow furrowed, "I called for help. Is the house on fire?"
"Is the...? It bloody well better not be. I smell smoke. Where's it coming from?" Vernon sniffed.
Harry mentally crossed his fingers and prayed. "Please follow the cigarette smoke, not the smoke from the cauldron. Please!" he thought desperately.
Intermission
Imagine the background music of your choice.
As in life, so it goes in the story. One small choice can change how events play out.
The screen splits. In both, Harry stands before his Uncle, hoping for the best. The one on the left fades to almost indistinguishable and we continue with the one on the right.
Uncle Vernon shoves Harry's shoulder. "Stay in here." The door slams. The locks tumble into place. Vernon sniffs and snuffs, smelling smoke, seeing wisp drift from his son's room. A cigarette glows red as ashes tumble to the side table.
Vernon stabs out the offending item and for the first time, is angry with his son.
"Dad? What are you doing in here?" Dudley inquired as he returned from the John.
The glare Vernon sent him made Dudley stumble backwards. Perhaps Harry hadn't been lying. Perhaps Harry had had someone cast an eye opener on his Dad.
Vernon held up the cigarette. "This set the smoke alarm off. Did you know your grandfather had lung cancer? That smoking these can make it so you can't breathe? So that you can't box? That just one left unattended can burn a house down? If you think you can do so well without good lungs, without your things to entertain you then you can just do without them for the next week. You will sleep on the couch downstairs. You are not to enter your room except to change clothes. You will use no electronics. You will have no friends over and you will not leave this house."
Dudley just stared slack jawed at this person who both did and did not resemble his father.
"Go downstairs Dudley." Seeing his son's lack of response, Vernon grabbed his arm and turned him in the direction of the door. "Go on."
Vernon searched Dudley's room for a few minutes and took with him any of the cigarettes he had found. His father had died from smoking too many of those. He wasn't about to let his son go the same way.
That night when Dudley went to change into his pajamas he withdrew a notebook from a drawer. On the first page there was a heading: Things My Parents Care About in Regards to Me. Below it was a pathetically short list.
1. They care if I have nice things.
2. I don't know if they care what I eat. They seem to want me to both lose weight and eat as much as I want of whatever I want.
3. They used to not care if I beat people up. Now they want me to stop. Harry says it is because they don't want to see me behind bars. Could that really happen?
4. Mum wants me to help others.
Dudley grabbed a pencil and wrote down:
5. Dad cares if I smoke. He doesn't want me to do it.
Meanwhile, in the room next door, Harry praised Merlin that his Uncle had believed the ruse. He quickly finished brewing then stashed away his potions kit.
Saturday arrived, the final day of Marge's visit.
Excerpt from plan...If you can't beat them, join them and make merry.
"Boy, more wine!" Harry took the proffered flutes and re-filled them, adding just a few drops of Pleasant Eve to each, as well as to his and Dudley's beverages. According to his potions book it was commonly used at social gatherings to ensure that all guest had a pleasant evening. If a person began to think of something unpleasant to say, their thoughts would quickly drift to a more appropriate topic of conversation.
That night, Harry smiled contentedly as he drifted off to sleep. Marge was leaving in the morning. He had made it through the week without having one disagreement with Marge.
Sunday evening after his Uncle returned from taking Aunt Marge home Harry approached him with his permission slip. "Uncle Vernon? Could you sign my permission form?"
"Why would I do that?"
As calmly as he could, Harry replied, "Aunt Marge and I got along this week. We agreed that if the two of us got on you'd sign the form. Will you please?"
"You must've used your freakiness. There is no other explanation. You might as well bin that form because it's not getting signed."
An angry Harry retreated to his room and slammed the door.
He should have known, no matter what he did, his Uncle would never sign the form.
Intermission
Please imagine the background music of your choice.
We'd like to inform the audience that the following, alternative turn of events is not appropriate for all viewers.
It displays inappropriate violence that is never acceptable in the real world. Should you choose not to view this scene we support your decision and invite you to rejoin the story after the final intermission of this chapter.
The right side of the screen fades as the left comes to life...Harry stands before his Uncle praying that the ruse will work. Vernon shoves Harry's shoulder, pushes by him, then sniffs and snuffs, smelling smoke, seeing wisp drift up from behind Harry's bed. Taking two large steps Vernon spies the cauldron and ingredients..."How dare you bring that unnaturalness into my home!" With a kick the potion went splattering across the floor and sizzled as it turned into vapor. Vernon grabbed the child by the shirt collar and held him a foot off the ground. "I am going to flay you, Boy. Maybe that will teach you that freakishness has no place here."
The trembling child was dragged over to the bed and forced onto his belly. The sound of leather snaking through loops reached his ears. Then the belt slammed down on his back. Harry bit his lip and tried to close his mind to the beating as the belt rained down from shoulder to thigh. Crying out was not allowed.
The minutes passed.
Harry's hair was grabbed and his head yanked to the side. Vernon's face was inches away when he snarled, "Freakishness doesn't belong here."
His hair was released and Vernon vacated the room, slamming and locking the door as he went.
Harry lay on the bed for the longest time. Mentally, he had succeeded in what his Uncle had drilled into his head the previous summer: Be silent and pretend you don't exist. But as he began to roll over he found that his body hadn't been as vacant as his mind.
Aching, he crawled under the bed and pried up the loose board. Hidden inside was a wizard's first aid kit, one that Harry had assembled himself. He had been tending to his own wounds since he was two. Doing so now came natural to him, though the products he used had changed. Being as he had access to the superior pain killers and bruise balms that he'd either snitched from the Hospital Wing during one of his frequent stays or that he had brewed himself unbeknownst to his mates or Snape, he might as well use them.
Once healed, Harry glanced around his little room. At this moment, an unlockable locked door, and a box that provided food didn't bring the satisfaction it had a few months earlier.
Intermission
Please imagine the background music of your choice.
Thank you for your continued viewing. We leave it up to you, the viewer to decided which chain of events really happened. In either case...
The two half screens blended into one.
Harry had had enough. He was done putting up with the way he was treated in this place. Stuffing his belongings into his trunk and whisking Hedwig's empty cage from its perch he marched down the stairs and out the door.
And history continued, much as it has before with peering eyes, a tumble, a raised wand and a gut wrenching ride to a pub in London.
Credit to where credit's due: The split screen idea came from a wonderful adult comedy series called Coupling. You can find the show on Netflix. I've watched the whole series five times and I find it hilarious everytime. I highly suggest watching it. It has a rating of 8.7 out of 10 on IMDB.