Chapter 2
Waking up slightly stiff but well rested, Harry listened for any noises. It was surprisingly quiet and Harry began to wonder what the Dursleys' were doing. Putting on some of Dudley's old cloths Harry walked over to his door and tried to open it. "Locked again," Harry muttered more out of frustration than any real conviction. This was because Harry had discovered an easy way to extricate himself from the room. Taking a toy robot arm that Dudley had gotten three Christmases ago, but long forgotten, Harry reached through the cat door Uncle Vernon had installed to push food through on a aperiodic basis. Using the clenching handle Harry had discovered he was able to flip each of the locks. Fortunately Uncle Vernon had only installed bolt locks that were all within the reach of the toy arm. It took a little practice, but he soon jimmied each lock, allowing the door to be opened completely undetected. Harry knew it was going to be difficult to lock the door again. However it was a small price to pay for the freedom it offered.
You see, his aunt and uncle would never leave the house if they knew that Harry could be walking around unimpeded. The locks gave them a sense of security that Harry had no interest in eliminating. Regardless he was hungry and there didn't seem to be anybody in the house anyway. Harry made his way down the steps cautiously just in case one or more of his extended family were in the house waiting. After walking around for a few minutes Harry became convinced that he was there alone. Feeling the dull ache of hunger replacing other concerns, Harry made his way to the kitchen and began making a healthy breakfast.
Dudley, Harry's cousin and chief tormentor for much of his life, was no longer fat so his Aunt Petunia had filled the house with real food again. Over the years, Dudley had radically changed physically. At first he was just a heavy set bully that relied upon his size to beat up the local kids. After becoming too heavy for his health and any clothes, Dudley began to exercise. Not just any exercise, but boxing, the sport of gentleman. The frightening thing was that Dudley excelled at this outlet. It was as if he found the one way to harness all his anger and focus it into something practical. In his fifth year Dudley began boxing kids three and four years older than him. Now that Dudley was entering his last year at Smeltings, he only had one year left before deciding what to pursue. His father had already said that there was a special position waiting for him at Grunnings, the drill company that Uncle Vernon managed. But Dudley wanted more. He was thinking of going professional once he was out of school. Already a increasing number of potential managers started hanging out at the school gym, waiting to see how he progressed as a boxer. With his change from portly teenager to a muscle bound young adult, Aunt Petunia ensure there was always plenty of food available for Dudley.
"Can't have him wasting away can we?" Uncle Vernon had gotten into the habit of saying. "A boy like him needs his meat" he would always follow up with. Uncle Vernon cherished his son's new strength. He would tell anybody he could about Dudleys' most recent bout. "Oh yes" Uncle Vernon would start with virtually any passerby he could corner " Dudley is dangerous. Why in his last seven fight he knocked his opponents out in the first three rounds. Nope that's my boy. Certainly a chip off the old block he is." Walking into the living room with the hope of watching the muggle news, Harry spied dozens of pictures of Dudley. Gone were the pictures resembling a pig with a bow on its head. The room now was festooned images of each of Dudley's fights. Standing over each of his vanquished opponents, Dudley would sneer into the camera, challenging anybody to doubt his skill or viciousness.
Just before switching the TV on, Harry heard a curious sound. It was a muffled grunt followed by a creaking noise. Interested, Harry set aside his tray and walked to the back of the house. Through the window in the back door Harry could see that the Dursleys has set up a practice area for Dudley. They had laid down a thick, red colored mat the size of a boxing ring and erected ropes around it to complete the image. Currently in the middle of the ring hung a heavy punching bag and Dudley was expertly working it. Harry was quite amazed at the speed at which someone as large as his cousin was still able to achieve, despite being a massive young man. After watching for a while Harry bit his lip and made the fateful decision. "Lets see what side Dudley will line up on" Harry rhetorically asked. He knew in his heart that Dudley would assuredly take the opportunity to hurt him, but he had to give him the chance.
Grimacing, Harry reached for the door handle with only a momentary regret that he hadn't gotten some of Fred and George's bruise healing paste before committing to this suicidal path. Stepping out into the back yard, he watched Dudley delivering devastatingly powerful blows to the bag. With each punch Dudley emitted a low pitched grunt that almost sounded like he found the act somehow pleasurable. About five minutes went by before Dudley noticed Harry standing there. Immediately Dudley backed away and shouted at Harry, "What are you doing here you freak! You shouldn't be out of your room!" Looking a little like a caged animal Dudley kept his hands up. Harry felt an unnatural calm spread over him, this was right and he was confident of that fact. Instead of rejoining Dudley's question, Harry simply asked, "Why do you like boxing so much?"
Suspicious, Dudley didn't answer he just kept his hands up and started looking for an escape route. But Harry had placed himself directly between the practice area and the house leaving Dudley no other option but to answer Harry. "What is it to you freak! Maybe I just like hitting people." Dudley caustically replied.
"Oh of that I have no doubt, having been your first punching bag I know how much you enjoy it" Harry factually commented.
Dudley was becoming increasing uncomfortable with this conversation. Normally they just traded verbal barbs, each trying to incite the other. This time Harry was different, not as confrontational.
"Care to show me some moves" Harry quite unexpectedly asked.
"What are you going on about?" Dudley responded in full confusion now. "I know you can't use your wand or they will kick you out of that freak school of yours."
"Oh its actually worse than that, I have been officially reprimanded and any use of magic and they will send me off to the wizard prison Azkaban. You know, the one guarded by dementors. You remember the dementors don't you? They were the creatures that attacked us a couple of years ago and sucked the happiness right out of you" Harry lied, but he wanted Dudley to take a chance on the belief that there were going to be any magical repercussions. It seemed to work. Dudley's hands dropped just slightly and he blanched at the memory of the dementors.
Taking advantage of the moment, Harry calmly walked over to a box of excess boxing equipment. He poked about for a moment and finally grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and began putting them on. Dudley's eyes narrowed as it just occurred to him that Harry wouldn't be able to use his wand, prison or not, if he had gloves on. Moving to the center of the ring Dudley lowered the heaving punching bag then rolled it under the ropes leaving the ring free from obstructions.
Harry stepped into the ring and held his hands up in vaguely the same manner he had seen Dudley's. Still unconvinced, Dudley threw a couple of light punches into Harry's gloves easily knocking them out of the way. Dudley began to smile in a cold, cruel fashion realizing that maybe dreams do come true. The next series of punches easily got past Harry's gloves each striking him lightly on his face. Emboldened, Dudley threw one solid hook directly into the side of Harry's head. Again Harry attempts to defend himself were hopeless and the impact landed Harry onto to the mat. Dudley loomed over Harry who for the first time began to doubt his strategy. But the expected flurry of blows didn't come while Harry was down. Instead Dudley backed up slightly and taunted him by saying "Get up you freak, I want to hit you again". Harry obliged and stood up, feeling a little wobble when doing so. But Harry began to realize something, for all Dudley's incredible power and remarkable speed he didn't have much timing. Timing was a critical skill for a seeker, who often had to grab an erratically moving Golden Snitch while moving at incredibly fast speeds on a broom all the while avoiding viciously aimed bludgers and the opponent seeker.
Switching strategies, Harry decided that standing toe to toe with Dudley was stupid at best and suicidal at worst. Alternatively, Harry started to move at a slight 45 degree angle favoring what he believed to be Dudley's weak side. Unfortunately, it turned out that Dudley didn't have a weak side and quickly lashed out with a deadly combination of punches whose sole intent was to cripple Harry. While Harry certainly did get hit, and hurt, and knocked down he wasn't as dazed as he had his first time. Getting up quicker than Dudley would have thought possible they began to move around each other. While Harry's strategy only delayed the inevitable outcome and began to visibly upset Dudley. Soon Dudley was issuing nasty criticisms with his punches like, "Get your hands up you freak! Come on you little queer, put your hip into your punches otherwise you'll always hit like a girl?" Dudley's comments got more severe, because every time Harry was knocked down he would bounce right back up. Dudley didn't know that Hogwarts had unexpectedly trained Harry in a very valuable boxing skill, he could continue on in the face of great physical pain. With each blow, Harry reminded himself, that wasn't as bad as falling off his broom or having his arm bones regrown overnight, or the hundred other injures he had sustained.
Eventually, frustrated Dudley swung so hard that it threw him off balance. Taking advantage of the situation Harry stepped in and threw a counterpunch that actually connected with Dudley's head. Admittedly it was a fairly weak punch, almost just a slap, but he had made contact nonetheless. This tap so surprised Dudley that he backed away from Harry and stared at him. It was if this was the first time Dudley had ever even really seen Harry. Exhausted, bruised, bloodied, and barely standing Harry stood in the center of the ring wobbling badly with one of his eyes already closed and the other threatening too.
Dudley finally dropped his hands and launched a series of invectives towards Harry, "You little faggot freak girl prick geek turd asshole this is my ring. This is my domain. I rule here and don't you ever forget that. The next time you step in here you better be prepared to die, because I'll rip your head off." Stripping off his gloves Dudley stormed toward the house. Surprisingly he stopped just before getting to the door and shouted over his shoulder, "You know if you weren't such a total gimp and had shortened your stance, you might have actually caught my attention with that last punch." Not waiting to see if Harry was going to reply Dudley stepped inside.
Harry wasn't going to reply, in fact Harry didn't know if he was going to live. He just stood there stupidly now knowing what to do next. The lawn chairs seemed miles away and he couldn't figure a way of negotiating past the ropes surrounding the ring in the first place. Lacking a better plan, Harry merely slumped down onto the mat, eventually rolling onto his back even though it hurt more; at least he could breathe that way. Long moments passed before he heard footsteps approaching him. At first hoping that it wasn't Dudley coming back to finish the job, then upon further consideration hoping that he would, Harry just laid there. The part of his brain that was still working began to register that something was wrong. The footsteps weren't quite right. After a couple more minutes Harry realized that there was a familiar cadence, a dull clunk that echoed every other step. Not moving, but talking past the pain in his jaw, Harry asked, "So did you like the show Professor Moody?"
Moody growled deeply and responded, "Again I don't know about this Professor claptrap, I never actually got a chance to be one." With strained pleasantries aside, Moody sat down beside Harry so that he could lift Harry's head just a touch. The pain was significant and Harry mumbled out past his rapidly swelling lips, "Whaa ar yoo don? Tha hrts."
Moody put a small bottle next to Harry's lips and drizzled a little bit of liquid into Harry's mouth. Though the potion tasted strangely salty, Harry's head seemed to clear a little. "Special formula, only used by Aurors. It'll fix you up quick enough" Moody clinically informed Harry, "Though you will never have another erection".
Immediately Harry began to cough and spit up the concoction, trying to get as much out of his mouth as he possibly could. By the time his eyes stopped watering and he could actually see Moody Harry was greeted with a most unusual sight. Mad eye was openly laughing, actually holding his sides laughing." "Got you there Potter, didn't I" Moody exclaimed while trying to get is breathing under control. "Aaaah! Never thought I would ever get to use that one. My first trainer, Behar Boonod, got me with that back when I was just becoming an Auror. Though I must say you fell for it far more than I did" Moody finished up as he wiped a tear from his one good eye, still occasionally letting go a quick snort. Harry failed to find any of this funny, but was noticing that he really was beginning to feel better.
In just a couple minutes time Harry was sitting up, feeling much better. "Wow that stuff works great." Harry remarked excitedly.
"Ya, but you'll pay for it later" warned Moody, "You'll sleep probably 12 hours tonight and have a tremendous appetite tomorrow morning, But otherwise you will be right as rain."
Harry found the strength to get up off the mat and stagger over to one of the backyard lawn chairs. He flopped down into it, groaning as he did so. "Who ever thought something as ordinary as a chair could feel so wonderful" reflected Harry.
After another pause in their conversation, Moody finally spoke up and said, "Mind you, I think it was really dangerous and more than just a little stupid, but it was also very brave. Dumbledore would have been proud." Harry winced upon hearing the headmaster's name. Although the path he has chosen wasn't intended to make Dumbledore proud; it was his path, his choice; he deeply appreciated Moody's sentiment nonetheless.
"You know, of course, that the muggle will never like you." Moody offered.
Harry thought about this and responded by saying, "Yes, I know, but he will have to choose not to like me. Hating me just because his parents told him to isn't acceptable anymore and the only way for him to make the choice is to see the options. Imagine how pathetic a life filled with prejudices that aren't really yours would be. I am determined that we will both know and that's all I can hope for."
Moody chuckled and said, "Yep you are Dumbledore's man through and though. I haven't a clue what you are getting on about, but I feel like I've just learned something important." At the same time as saying this Moody reached across and good naturedly tussled Harry permanently tussled hair.
"Well enough of all this sentimental bullocks. I'm actually here on business. Specifically what happens prior your birthday. Its still more than a month away and your protection will last until then. I am giving you this portkey that will activate at exactly 10 p.m. on the 28th of July. You should also know that it will only activate from your room. That should keep you settled …" Moody stopped for Harry's immediate objections.
"No way, I'm not staying here any longer and you can't make me!" Harry asserted.
"Oh yes, you are correct about that. Now let me offer you a choice. Every Dark Wizard in the world is hunting for you. Every corrupt Wizard will turn you over just to make a profit on the deal. Every scared Wizard, mind you that's an increasingly large number, is willing to turn you over to them thinking it save their own necks. Fools! The rest are busy just trying to keep things together. If you just blunder out of here you won't last a week. I know that you strong and brave, but that's just not enough right now. What matters is what you do and don't know about how real wizarding works, not the stuff you have learned in school" Moody explained.
"If you give us a while to prepare, you can go off on you own and do whatever it is that Dumbledore wanted you to do. Until then, trust us a little longer. We won't have Number 12 Grimmauld Place ready for you until then. Once there, we can show you just enough to keep you from exposing yourself. Afterwards… well that's your choice isn't it?" concluded Moody.
Frustrated with the idea of having to stay until his birthday, Harry peevishly asked, "Well can we start training immediately. Certainly the Ministry would allow me to practice in the interim despite the ban on underage magic."
"Actually, the Ministry seems more interested in keeping you ignorant. Its almost as if they think if you can't survive on your own, then you will be more likely to appeal to the for protection." Said Moody.
"Never!" spat Harry. "I'll never go crawling to them and become their posterboy."
"Good, I had hoped you would say that. As I know how the detection spell for underage magic works, I also know there are loop holes. You should expect someone in the next few days that can provide some rather useful training. Until then, sit tight and CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
The last statement so surprised Harry that he ended up knocking over his chair for trying to leap back. Sprawled out on his back Harry looked up to see Moody laughing once more. "Oh yes, before I go… "Moody began as he reached into his pocket and pulling out an old tin can. "This is a portkey that will activate five seconds before your birthday. Make sure you are ready. That and take this." Harry caught the small bottle of potion that had so revived him earlier. "Just in case you have any more boxing lessons"
Moody clunked his way out the back gate. Harry soon heard the familiar crack of Moody disapparating. Harry could feel himself slipping into exhaustion, whether it was the potion fading from his system or his body desperately needing rest after the morning workout, he made his way upstairs, took a quick shower, re-locked his door using the toy robot arm, fell into bed, and had another dreamless night.