Harry
Little Whinging

Harry made it a further two blocks from Number 4 before he realised the significance of the loud cracking sound he'd heard. It must've been someone apparating or disapparating, that much was obvious now that he thought about it. After all ear-splitting cracking noises were not a common occurrence on Privet Drive. The question plaguing his mind was who had been apparating or disapparating so close to the Dursley's house. There were no other magical folk in the area as far as he knew, was it possible that it was just someone passing through? Sure, but that seemed like far too convenient a coincidence. Then it struck him that maybe he was being watched. That seemed much more likely and was a thought he didn't like much at all. Perhaps, though, that would finally get some attention. He might just send that off in his next letter. Oh, he could see it now:

Dear Sirius,

Everything is much the same here is Little Whinging, The Dursley's still hate me and my cousins still a foul git. So don't worry, nothing's changed on that front. As for me, well, I'm still bloody fantastic, just starting to go out of my mind with worry, after a whole month with no news at all. But don't fret over it, I've stayed out of trouble and I'll continue to keep my nose clean just like you said. Oh, and by the way, the strangest thing happened last night. I heard someone apparating right outside the house. Now I can't help thinking; who would be apparating on Privet Drive? I can' think of anyone at all… so it makes absolutely no sense. Unless someone, has been watching me, for some strange reason. It seems mad I know. Who would want to watch me? It couldn't possibly be a Death Eaters or anyone who works for Voldemort. Like I said it's completely mad, I mean why would Voldemort want me watched? Because, you know, it's not like he's the most powerful dark wizard the worlds ever known, who wants nothing more than to kill me or anything. That's just ridiculous, so I suppose I'll shut up about it now. Well I've got to be going, like I said don't worry about me. Everything here in Little Whinging is lovely, just sunshine, rainbows and bloody unicorns!

Harry

He let out a snort of laughter at the thought of seeing his godfathers face as he read that letter. Passive-aggressive, sarcastic letter that leaves ones godfather unsure whether to laugh or be upset? Check. He was more than half tempted to do it, Right that would go over real well, he thought, as he sat on the one remaining swing at the play park off Magnolia Drive. After all the rubbish letters he'd received in the last three weeks, he was almost itching to send off something like that. 'There's been a lot going on… can't say much… we've been busy…owls might go astray…' and on and on it went 'keep your nose clean… stay out of trouble…don't do anything rash… whatever you do, don't use any magic…' Like he ran around waving his wand about, shooting spells at anything that moved, as if he was a child that had no concept of proper behaviour! It made his blood boil just thinking about it. Being told not to do anything rash by, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius, no less, just the thought had his nostrils flaring.

Ron's temper flared at the most preposterous things, such as the time he snapped at Hermione for attending the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, who had previously been his idol then rapidly became the enemy upon asking Hermione on a date. He also tended to jump to conclusions, faster than you could say Hippogriff, like thinking Crookshanks killed Scabbers or that Harry entered his own name in the Triwizard Tournament. Speaking of hippogriffs there's Sirius, the wrongly convicted criminal, who broke out of prison and went on the run from the law. Then did the first thing that would make him seem guilty, he ran straight to Hogwarts and broke in, assaulted an innocent painting and dragged Ron, broken leg and all, through a two mile tunnel, intent on killing Peter Pettigrew, whose murder he'd been falsely convicted of in the first place. After that there was the part about escaping again, on a wanted and condemned hippogriff. Nope, not even the slightest bit rash. Then there was Hermione, she'd never do anything reckless like kidnapping an unregistered animagus reporter and hold her hostage in an unbreakable jar, so she could proceed to blackmail said reporter. Yes, he thought, it was quite maddening to be told not to do anything rash by the three of them.

He was twisting back and forth in the swing brooding on his anger when he noticed his cousin Dudley, standing on the street corner opposite the park with his merry band of miscreants. They were passing a cigarette around, talking with over-the-top hand gestures, air-boxing and clapping each other's shoulders. Harry nodded to himself, understanding that in their primitive Neanderthal-like language, this all meant that Dudley had taken it upon himself to beat-up another of the neighbourhood children. They had yet to notice Harry sitting on the swing, and truth be told his anger was so far gone by this point, he practically wished they would. Almost anytime they saw him they tried to instigate a fight between himself and Dudley, and right now that seemed like a brilliant idea. He wouldn't even draw his wand, but he was so agitated that throwing a few well-placed punches sounded like good fun. He watched as Dudley threw the cigarette to the ground and they said their good byes, deciding to wait until the others were gone before approaching his cousin. If he couldn't punch the lot of them… well, at least Dudley was always easy to rile up.

"Alright there, Diddykins?" He asked as he walked up with a smirk on his face.

"What d'you want freak?" Dudley asked as he turned and started to walk away. "And don't call me that or I'll…"

"Or you'll what Dudders? Beat me up like you did that ten year old, two nights ago? No… I don't think you will," he said as he fell into step beside his cousin.

"I told you not to call me that!" Dudley snapped and his smirk grew wider.

"No, you told me not to call you Diddykins. But I won't call you Dudders either, if it bothers you that much, I can always go with Popkin or Dinky Diddydums if you'd like. That one's my favourite you know – Dinky Diddydums."

"Shut it!" Dudley spat. He noticed the stiffness in his cousin's back as they continued to walk, Dudley's hands were flexing opened and closed in what appeared to be an involuntary motion.

"You don't tell your mum to shut it when she calls you that. Do all your mates know that she still pinches your cheeks and calls you Popkin?" Harry was having fun now; he had to hold in his laughter as he watched Dudley coil his fists shut and take slow deep breaths.

"I said shut it."

"No, I don't think I will Diddykins." He wondered exactly how far he could push is cousin's self-control, further than he would have thought actually; a year ago Dudley would have resorted to threats if not violence already.

"You think you're such a big man, walking around with that – that stick in your pocket don't you?" Dudley was seething trying hard to control his temper now. He just smirked again in return.

"Stick in my pocket?" he asked. "Oh… you mean this." He said as he pulled out his wand and started twirling in around in his fingers. They had walked a couple blocks by now from Magnolia Drive onto Magnolia Crescent and they were turning into the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk when Dudley stopped.

"Put that away someone will see!" Dudley hissed.

"Oh god you're right," he gasped, "someone might see me holding a stick in my hand… Oh, the horror, walking and holding a stick at the same time, what will people think?" It was difficult not to laugh out loud now. "So what if anyone sees? It's just s stick, right Dudders?"

"You can't use it – I know you can't. I remember the rules; they'll chuck you out of that freak school you go to," said Dudley, trying to look and sound confident in his statement, and failing at both.

"You sure about that?" He asked with a rueful smile.

"Yes!" Dudley snapped puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders. Harry just rolled his eyes and let out a dry chuckle.

"Maybe they changed the rules," he said watching his wand as it twirled in his fingers. "Or maybe, I don't care about the rules any more. Maybe I'll turn you, your mum, and your dad into fat gold fish, plop you in a bowl of water and leave you there."

He couldn't help but laugh at the look of horror that flashed across Dudley's face. He kept on chuckling to himself as he passed his cousin and continued walking into the alleyway. He'd made it five or six steps before Dudley found his voice again and said something that made him come to a dead stop.

"You think you're so brave, well you're not so brave at night are you? I can hear you – you know," he said. Harry spun on his heal to face his cousin and tried to remind himself to stay calm.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he replied and turned on his heel to walk off again.

"Oh, you know – I hear you – moaning and crying." Dudley started walking again, struggling to catch up.

"Shut it Dudley!" Harry snarled not bothering to slow down. "You don't know anything." He had a very bad feeling about where this was going.

"Don't kill him." Dudley mocked. "Help me, no not Cedric, don't kill him. Mum, dad, Help me he's going to kill me too!" Before Harry even knew what he was doing, he had Dudley backed against a wall, his wand digging into his cousins cheek.

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT IT!" He snapped, pushing his wand so hard it caused a dent in Dudley's plump cheek.

"DON'T POINT THAT THING AT ME, FREAK!" Dudley screamed back. He was shaking now, from fear or from anger Harry couldn't tell, probably both.

"One more word, Dudley, say one more word and I'll do worse that turning you into a gold fish, much worse," Harry seethed

"I'll – I'll tell," Dudley stuttered. "I'll tell dad."

"Yeah, Dud, run home to daddy and tell him that Harry pulled his evil freak stick on you, but make sure not to leave out the part about you being too scared to do anything about it." Harry was taunting him now, just because he could, something that would, no doubt, turn out to be a bad idea in the end, but damned if it didn't feel good to take it all out on someone.

He'd had that dream again last night. He was back in the graveyard watching, unable to do a thing, as Cedric died and Voldemort came back. It haunted him almost every night and now he knew that he was calling out in his dreams, and worse, his cousin had heard.

"You're going to be in so much trouble for this, just wait till dad hears. He'll lock you in your room for sure. Suppose that won't be so bad for you though, will it? Then you can cry about Cedric whenever you want. Who's Cedric anyway?"

"I said SHUT IT!" he thundered, jabbing his wand in Dudley's cheek as hard as he could when a woman's voice called from the end of the alleyway.

"Take that thing down from your cousin's cheek boy. You're just angry enough it might pop off. Then where will you be when you've blown the fat idiot to bits? Azkaban, that's where!" He jumped back a bit, but kept his wand pointed at Dudley's face and watched in disbelief as the woman came closer out of the shadows.

"What – wait… what?" he stammered, his mouth hanging open, gaping like a stupid fish. He knew he must look completely thick, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Mrs Figg?" he asked, as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. "You're a witch?"

"No, not a witch dear, I'm a squib," she answered not unkindly.

Dudley, who had taken note of Harry's distraction, and chose that moment to try and slip away, he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and reached out and smacked Dudley hard across the head with his wand.

"You stay!" he barked, and Dudley, not wanting to try his luck, rapidly froze.

He was still staring at Mrs Figg, his mouth wide open, when a thought struck him, it hit like the Hogwarts Express moving at top speed. His mouth snapped shut and the feeling of shock was quickly replaced by sheer rage.

"You knew…" he said. It wasn't a question; the accusation flew out of his mouth with so much fervour that he nearly surprised himself. "You knew… all this time, about everything, didn't you? About my parents, and about magic, about all the lies that the Dursley's told me, you knew and you never said anything."

"Well yes, and I really am quite sorry for that dear, but Dumbledore thought that it was best that way." Well, he thought, at least she has the decency to look sorry.

"You know Dumbledore?" stupid question… he wasn't even sure why he'd asked. He really needed to work on not blurting out the first thing that popped into his head. But it wasn't Mrs Figg that answered; it was someone standing behind him.

"Of course, everyone knows Dumbledore."

"Oh, there you are dear." Said Mrs Figg as Harry spun around.

"I thought it best to check the other end of the alleyway, make sure no muggles wandered this way. Since it appears we've a bit of a standoff going on."

It was another woman, but she was much younger that Mrs Figg. Harry thought she looked to be nineteen maybe twenty years old, and he knew he'd seen her before but he couldn't seem to place where.

"You know Dumbledore too?" he asked. He was gaping stupidly again, he really needed to stop doing that.

"Didn't I just say that everyone knows Dumbledore?" she answered, and she was just a bit patronising about it too. Her tone reminded him of Hermione a bit, when she'd begun to lose patience with either Ron or himself.

"Are you a squib as well?" Harry asked and she shook her head in reply.

"A witch then?" this time she nodded.

Harry looked at her closely then, he should be able to recognise her from Hogwarts she was close enough to his age she had to have been there at some point in the last four years. She was close to his height, about 5 feet 7 inches, maybe a bit shorter. Her skin was almost bronze coloured. She had high cheek bones and large dark eyes. He couldn't tell the exact colour in the dim light but he was sure they were black like her hair, which fell to her shoulders in extremely tight curls. Now he was sure he knew her from somewhere, she looked very familiar. He wanted to ask her about Hogwarts but before he could Dudley spoke up.

"Can I go now?" he asked.

"No!" Harry yelled jabbing his wand at him in emphasis.

"Good thing we got here when we did, Mrs Figg. This is just sort of thing Dumbledore's been worried about," the young woman said.

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked "What are you talking about?" Dumbledore obviously wasn't worried about him. Why would Dumbledore have left him here, on Privet Drive, for a whole month with no word on anything if he was worried? But neither Mrs Figg nor the other woman answered.

"Harry, dear," said Mrs Figg cautiously. "Why don't you put your wand away, there's no use pointing it at your cousin like that." He narrowed his eyes, considering it. It's not like he could actually use it, and he didn't really want to hurt Dudley… well not badly, anyway.

"Alright," he said as he brought his wand down, "but answer my question about Dumbledore." He watched as the young woman looked to Mrs Figg, eyebrows raised, it seemed she was referring to the authority of the older woman, asking for permission.

Dudley, who was waiting for a chance to slip away, was looking between Harry and the two women, waiting for his chance to pull a runner. He was slowly creeping away; he glanced first at Harry, who was distracted, waiting for his answers. Then to Mrs Figg, the loopy old cat lady, and she wasn't paying any attention to him. Lastly he looked at the other woman, who'd, said she was one of them. She didn't really look like one of that lot to him, she wasn't dressed all freakishly like those nutters that broke out of the wall last year, and she hadn't pulled out one of those – things yet, but she was looking at the old lady. It seemed like the perfect time to slip away. Dudley made it exactly four steps before someone grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him back. Harry hadn't even noticed until he heard the young woman question Dudley.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Dudley tried to wretch himself free but she held tight. "Get off me freak!" Dudley snapped at her in his most intimidating voice, but that turned out to be a poor choice of words.

"Freak?" she yanked Dudley again so that she was looking him directly in the eyes. When she continued her voice was eerily calm, Harry thought, it didn't fit at all with the look in her eyes. "Did you really just call me a freak? You must have some nerve – this from the boy who's just about as wide as he is tall. Why you nasty, insignificant, foul little ingrate…"

"Don't mind him," Harry interjected. "He's been calling me a freak for years. He's not smart enough to come up with any new insults, are you Diddykins?"

"Shut it you! When dad hears about this you're in so much trouble, I'll tell him you've been doing that stuff again, you're going to get it this time…" but Dudley's threat was cut short. It only took a split second for the hand holding his collar to let go and meet the back of his hear with a painful – SMACK. "OW! You can't…" he started to say, only to be slapped again.

"It would be best for you if you'd just stop talking, now," said the young woman. Dudley was just smart enough to get the point and kept his mouth firmly shut. Something that was particularly difficult when Harry had such a satisfied smile on his face. Now that Dudley was finished being an idiot, Harry had questions he wanted answered.

"Now will someone please answer my questions about Dumbledore? And not to be rude, but who are you?"

At exactly that moment that the air in the alleyway seemed to shift, the young witch and wizard were the first to notice, and they both stiffened instantly, waiting with baited breath. Suddenly it got very dark, like the last of the light had been snuffed out, and Harry was quick to noticed when it became unnaturally cold, sending gooseflesh down his arms.

"No, it can't be…" he heard the young woman whisper. 'Yes…' he wanted to answer, 'yes, but how? And why?'

"Oh dear," he heard Mrs Figg whisper worried.

Then Dudley decided to completely lose his mind. "WHAT'S GOING ON?" he bellowed, Harry could hear rustling, as Dudley was blindly moving, franticly looking around for a way out of the alleyway. "I CAN'T SEE! I CAN'T SEE! WHAT DID YOU DO?" Harry didn't even bother answering.

The young woman lit her wand looked briefly at him before pointing it at Dudley and whispering. "You be quiet. We need to be able to hear. I mean it you idiot, not one word out of you." Then she turned to him with a grim look. "Wand out Potter, don't do anything yet but have it ready. You can produce a corporeal Patronus, can't you?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Good, because mine's a bit on the weak side, but please don't do anything unless it's absolutely the last option." Her voice was quiet and deadly serious.

"OK," he breathed back.

She move quickly then, grabbing Dudley roughly and placing him between them and doing the same with Mrs Figg, only she was much gentler with the old woman.

"Alright Potter, turn your back to them, I'll face the opposite way. We'll walk the way I'm facing. Remember keep them between us, they are completely defenceless."

Slowly they made their way to the end of the alley, it was tricky walking backwards in the near dark, and he kept bumping into Dudley and stumbling. They'd gone about thirty feet when he heard it, the ragged, drawing, and rattling breathing that could only mean one thing.

"D'you…" he started to ask.

"Yes." She hissed.

She could hear them too, until now he'd been hoping he was wrong, but they'd both felt it, both heard it, and now he could see it. The eerie dark figure came lurching into view, its decaying almost skeletal hand poking out from its tattered black robes. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his stomach seemed to sink and sink; surely it was all the way down in his trainers by now. He tried not to shake, but having met Dementors on several previous occasions, he couldn't help the feeling of dread that swept over him. 'This cannot be happening,' he thought, 'what the hell are Dementors doing in Surry?'

"Shite!" Harry was sure that curse could only mean one thing; there was a Dementor in the front of the group as well.

"I've got one back here," he told her.

"I see two up here, but there could be more," she answered.

"Dud, Mrs Figg… alright?" Harry asked, but he didn't get to hear the answer. At that moment all three of the Dementors swept down on the group. Harry pushed his back against Dudley and used his arm to hold the other boy behind him. They were closing in now and Harry had his wand up, ready to use. He was trying to focus on his happy thought, but Dudley had begun to struggle and yell. He pushed himself to block out his cousin's frantic screaming, telling himself over and over to find his happiest memory and hold on to it. He was ready, he could do this, Gryffindor courage set stubbornly in place he waited, the young woman had told him not to do anything unless he absolutely had to. The Dementors were so close now he could feel it, starting to chip away at every bit of happiness he had. What was she doing up there? Why hadn't she cast her Patronus yet?

Years of bad memories assaulted him one after the other, the chamber with the stone, the Basilisk in the chamber of secrets, the graveyard, and the woman screaming… a flash of green light. Vaguely, as if it was far off, he heard a woman's voice.

"Expecto Patronum," she called, once, then twice and then a flash of silver seemed to bring him back to his mind.

"Potter, are you with me? Potter?" she called.

"Yeah," he said "Yeah I'm here…"

"I've just pushed them back a little, they'll try again. My Patronus wasn't strong enough."

It all happened so fast then, Dudley was screaming, Harry felt him fall to the ground, and saw a Dementor hovering over him. Harry saw another one coming his way.

"DAMMIT!" she yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry saw the spell start to take shape, but it quickly flickered and died, that's when he heard her wand clatter to the ground. One of them was on her now too. Harry pushed Mrs Figg back, trying to shield her with his own body.

"Potter," the witch croaked, "do it, NOW!" That was all he needed to hear, he screamed the words and it took him two tries as well, but when the familiar stag leapt forth he knew they were saved.

"GET THEM," he demanded, and pointed his wand at all three of the Dementors, one after the other, watching it leap at the revolting, soul sucking creatures.

Harry fell to his knees when it was over. Sucking in air like a drowning man. After a few moments he saw Mrs Figg, helping the other woman to her feet, and noticed that Dudley was still lying flat on his back. He crawled over to his cousin who was taking short frantic breaths, sweating, and shaking. He grabbed Dudley's shoulders, shaking him, and calling his name over and over. Dudley's eyes wouldn't focus and the only noise he was making was a miserable grunting.

"Dudley," he yelled, "DUDLEY! Come on Dud, say something." He was beginning to panic now. "Oh god," he cried, "Oh, god he's been kissed." He continued to shake Dudley's shoulders, even slapped his cousins face a few times to try and make him focus, but it didn't seem to be working.

"No, he hasn't been kissed. If he had he wouldn't be moving or making any sort of noise. Most likely he's in shock." Harry looked over and noticed the young witch was kneeling next to him. "Please calm down potter, I need you calm," she said placing her hand on his shoulder.

Mrs Figg finally spoke up after remaining silent through the whole ordeal. "Come on, get him up. We need to get moving in case they come back."

"She's right Potter, we need to get out of here, the sooner the better."

He nodded and made several attempts to get his cousin on his feet. He struggled with Dudley for more than a few minutes, but the bigger boy wouldn't do anything more than shake and mumble. He even tried to physically lift the boy himself, but that proved just as futile, Dudley was much too big. Harry dropped the other boys arm and watched as it flopped down limp and lifeless with a thud. "It's no use," he said, "there's no way I can lift him, he's just too heavy."

The witch looked at him then at Dudley, pursed he lips and scrunched up her nose. She must be thinking over what to do next, either that or she had some very odd facial expressions. No, she had definitely been thinking because suddenly her nose was no longer scrunched and Harry watched her eyebrows rise slightly before she looked back at him.

"Right, well… we're not supposed to use magic on muggles, strictly speaking. So I'd really appreciate it if we left this bit out when we explain this mess to the Ministry," she said.

He forced himself to nod as he watched her quick wand work. In a matter of seconds Dudley was immobilized, floating, and to Harry's amazement shimmering briefly before he disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" Harry asked.

"Nowhere Potter, he's been disillusioned. We can't very well walk through a muggle neighbourhood with him floating along after us can we?"

With that she nodded at him pointed her wand at his invisible floating cousin and began to walk, taking Mrs Figg by the arm and making sure the older woman was okay. He stood still watching for several seconds before shaking his head and taking off after them.

"You said something about the Ministry, do you really think that we'll have to explain all this to them?" he asked.

"Without a doubt, Potter," she answered, "and we'd best come up with a damn good tale too. If I don't say anything about being here they will surely accuse you of lying about the Dementors. If I tell them I was here they'll wonder why… it's awfully convenient you see – my being here right when you get attacked."

"Oh that's easy dear," said Mrs Figg, "Tufty, one of my half kneazle's just had kittens. We were meeting tonight because you were interested in one."

The young woman smiled at Mrs Figg. "Of course I was, in all of the commotion it must have slipped my mind."

"That's all well and good, but why will it matter? Once I tell them that there were Dementors they'll know that I had to defend myself. They can't punish me for that."

"Who controls the Dementors, Potter?" she asked with one eyebrow raised and her head tilted to the side.

"The Ministry," he answered quickly, why she was asking questions with stupidly obvious answers was beyond him.

"And when you march into the Ministry, in all your Gryffindor glory, and accuse them of setting Dementors, which they control, loose in a muggle neighbourhood…" She was looking at him wide eyed, nodding slightly and waving her hand in a circular motion, as if she was willing him to understand. He had to roll his eyes at himself when he finally understood what she was getting at.

"Yeah, that won't go over well, will it…" he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Not at all," she huffed.