Pale in the Shadows

Part I Magick in the Air – Chapter 2 Broken Storm

About: I know it might be a little weird to have chapters split between POVs, but part of it's to help the world building. There are things that have to be seen through Petunia and Harry. This is the last chapter involving Harry for Part I because the first part is going to focus on before Hogwarts. After Magick in the Air (which will be composed of eight chapters) is Part II Unfortunate Spell where the POV will mostly be Harry as the story is comes to focus on him. For those who are curious, most of these chapters focus at two points in the main character's lives—when they're eight and when they're ten/eleven just to show different parts of the wizarding world and when they receive their letters. Thank you! Hope you enjoy.

Warning: There is some swearing and an instance of Fornicating Under Carnal Knowledge (my apologies). Harry is very mature for his age and very knowledgeable because for him his whole world is books and knowledge because that is all that keeps him going. I know he seems a little too mature for his age, but it's amazing what abuse can do to a child.


Dudley stood at the end of the driveway carrying a large box and his backpack. He watched Harry struggle under the weight of his own box, filled to the brim with books, a smirk on his face. 'You got that alright?' Grunting in response, Harry shuffled over to his cousin who now stood a good deal taller than him. They stood outside their new home on Number 4 Privet Drive. It was a two-story white building with front and back yards and two leafy green trees providing shade; Harry stared longingly up at the second floor windows where his new bedroom was.

'You sure you're good?' Dudley asked bringing him back to reality.

'Yep. Got it.' Honestly, he felt exhausted. Many things had changed since two years before, Harry realized as he and Dudley went into the house through the kitchen entrance, heading for the upstairs.

Petunia had finally broken down and gotten a job with one of her friends at a flower shop and Vernon became manager at a new construction office owned by the company Grunning's. Because of the promotion and their newfound income, they move them into a new house with enough room for the four of them and close enough to both workplaces, though it did mean a transfer of schools. The only other thing that had drastically changed was the way Vernon treated Harry. Only Dudley had made comments about it at first, but slowly even his cousin had given up. It seemed to have begun shortly after the incident with the television, but Vernon would make comments about how fat Harry was getting, how stupid he was, or even how disgusting his strange scar was. Petunia seemed oblivious to the whole matter, and Harry knew better than to bring it up with her because of the rules. He had once or twice had a teacher comment on his weight being under average or that he looked sickly, but Harry had shrugged it off and they quickly forgot about him unless it was about academia. Even then, despite having high grades, the teachers never spoke to him and he was grateful for it.

Somehow, Harry kind of believed his uncle and it didn't help that Petunia had created a mandatory diet for the family due to Vernon's heart attack the year before. The only problem was, the Vernon rules had changed. Because of Harry being supposedly overweight, Vernon had taken him aside and threatened him; the rules had changed to Harry only eating half his meal, the rest be saved and eaten by his uncle on the sly with Petunia none the wiser. Harry doubted that it would work, but because of the rules, he went along with it. Life was easier to just comply. Even though Petunia had stopped him a few times to comment on how thin he looked or ask about the disappearing leftovers, she would seemingly forget or get caught up in something else.

'You miss the old place?'

Harry jumped as Dudley came up behind him, catching up just by the car. 'You scared me.'

Smirking, Dudley clapped his younger cousin on the back. 'Sorry, mate.'

Shaking his head, Harry heaved another box up. 'And no, not really. I mean, I was so fond of the spiders as bedmates and all.' Dudley snorted, which suited him. Unlike Harry, Dudley was bulky with buzz-cut blond hair and several inches taller. Harry, on the other hand, was too skinny and bony for his age with scraggly black hair and thick-framed glasses. They were a contrasting pair as one looked more like a sportsman and the other like a mad scientist.

Later that night, as Harry finally settled more of his stuff into their respective places, he flipped the light switch off and laid back on his bed, staring out at the night sky. Breathing in and out, Harry focused on the way the inhalation bled into an exhalation, wondering where one stopped and the other began. He tried hard to channel the anger and hatred that boiled in him. Some part of him ached for the faerie tale idea of a happy family and he fondly remembered the moments when Petunia wasn't so oblivious to him and the moments when Dudley would blindly defend him; however, they were growing up and Harry knew all-too-well that the world wasn't filled with 'Once upon a time'. His uncle had seen to that.

I bloody hate this place and I hate this, he thought, closing his eyes. No matter how much I can try and handle this I can't. Harry was used to the rules, but somehow it was growing unbearable. Every time Vernon made a comment or raised his fist, Harry wanted to retaliate. He wanted nothing more than to fight back or even vanish from sight. Sometimes he ached to simply disappear into nothing, but some nagging feeling tugged him back. Sighing, Harry rolled over preparing to sleep. He knew what it was that pulled him from the edge of his roiling hate and displeasure. Somehow he loved his only family.


'We have two new students in our class today, just transferred. Please welcome Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter.' The teacher made a welcoming motion as the cousins wandered into the room. As she began clapping for them, the other students followed suit like trained puppies at obedience school. Harry wished nothing more than to vanish, but instead tried to make himself seem smaller by tucking himself in and hunching his back. 'Alright then, there's a seat at the front, why don't you take that one Potter. Mister Dursley, please take the one by the window next to Mister Polkiss. Okay, then, please pull out your textbooks.'

Despite the teacher beginning her lecture, Harry could still hear students whispering back and forth as he and Dudley took their respective seats. Swinging into his seat he pulled out the text the principal had given them upon entry that morning, and stared numbly at the marked worn pages as he listened to the students.

'Look at his scar!' a girl hissed to her neighbor. 'Wonder what happened? Think he got it in a fight or something?'

'Hideous, isn't it?' another muttered. 'Kind of a creepy guy, don't you think?'

Harry tried to flatten his shaggy hair, hoping to cover his bangs, but to no avail. Instead he turned his attention to the teacher as she called on students to answer questions. It might be ugly or hideous, but it's all I have of that night. He couldn't help but shiver, thinking of the fateful car crash that had ended his parents' lives, leaving him with a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Every day when he looked at himself in the mirror, it reminded him, too, that he had to keep going for them, though sometimes he wished he had followed his parents into the afterlife.

Lunch came all too quickly, most of them had taken their meals in the classroom. 'You're cousins, then?' asked the dark haired Polkiss boy, he sat with his back turned to Harry talking to Dudley. 'Can't tell, thank god. You two look nothing alike and bloody well, too. Looks like something the cat dragged in.' The boy guffawed and Harry, slid forward in his seat, trying hard to focus on his book and disappear.

'Harry's my mum's sister's,' Dudley replied, saying nothing to the other comments. 'Aunt Lily and her husband died in a car crash is all, so he's been living with us.'

That ended the discussion of Harry, but the other boy craned his neck, staring at the boys. Piers Polkiss, he thought, eyeing the weasel-faced boy, looks like trouble for me. Sighing, Harry continued to wish himself invisible as he turned back to his book.

For the most part, the rest of school was a blur and Harry avoided any mishaps. Ignoring most of his peers' comments, he found himself walking home alone as Dudley had been invited to join some extracurriculars by their classmates. The school wasn't far from Privet Drive, another plus to the move, though it was strange to have to transfer schools so late into the year. Harry longed for the library, but didn't have to courage to find the school's, and he had yet to find if there was a neighborhood one close by. While he walked, Harry instead thought of the weekend and, lost in his thought, stumbled aimlessly down an alleyway—a shortcut that led home. He didn't notice he was being followed until Polkiss spun him around and slammed him into a dumpster.

Harry hit the metal so hard, he winced in pain, grabbing his shoulder. Glaring up at the boy, he gasped, 'What do you want, Polkiss?'

'I think you know,' the taller boy smirked, his face ugly. 'I'm sure you paid your dues at your old school, Potter. I mean, you got no parents and think that makes you all pitiful and the like? Think you deserve better?' Polkiss then motioned to two other boys from their class that Harry hadn't noticed. 'Watched you during class. Think you're smart too? Do you know how that makes people like us look?'

Harry felt the anger and hatred well up in him and snorted. 'Makes you look bloody stupid is what. Ever try reading a book or are you just better at being illiterate?' That earned him a punch right into his glasses. Everything stung as his glasses snapped and stabbed painfully into his face, his nose burned as blood coursed down his face and tears gushed from his eyes. He could barely see as he heard Polkiss's jacket rustle and he knew instantly that he was going to get punched again. Crying out in pain and desperation, fear swamping him, Harry felt a surge of power as he wished to get away and be somewhere safe and away from everything he hated. He instinctively threw his arms up to guard his face, but the punch never came.

It was like floating through water, or running sand through his fingers. He couldn't quite tell, but it was as though something had wrenched his being from the ground and was swirling him until suddenly he plopped in existence. Blinking through the tears, his face pounding with pain, Harry found himself in a darkened room, only a smidgen of light coming through a thin crack at the doorway. Gasping, he reached for the knob, fiercely jiggling it as he realized it was locked. Banging on the door he shouted, screaming for help. He didn't know how long he had done it for, just that his face ached and his throat burned.

Somehow Harry had found himself in his old cupboard under the stair.


Luckily the landlord was still cleaning and making repairs to the house, otherwise Harry would have been stuck there. As it was, the landlord had taken until Thursday off and had only come in the following morning to check up on the place. Imagine his surprise to find a starved and rancid smelling boy in the stairway closet. Despite the scare and confusion, the landlord had allowed Harry to wash off under the condition that the boy clean the cupboard with bleach water and loaned him a pair of overalls and an old jacket. It also meant that Harry had to call home and assure the Dursleys that he had neither been kidnapped nor run away, which of course was hard to explain.

As he came into the house, Dudley gave him a big hug, trying hard not to laugh. 'Mate, I knew you liked the closet, I just didn't realize how much!' Harry smiled a little, muttering something about wanting to sleep as he stumbled up the stairs to his room. He locked the door behind him and curled up on the bed, smelling the fresh linens. His aunt had been relieved when he had called, but because of his missing, she decided to go to the school and police to discuss the matter, which had inevitably left Vernon to pick him up.

The landlord had been pretty calm about the whole matter after Harry made up some excuse about some bullies from the school pulling a prank on him, and had even told Vernon he as just glad that Harry had been found and advised him to take Harry to the hospital. Vernon, on the other hand, had waited until they were in the car. At first he had said nothing, instead his face turned various colours from red to nearly purple. Finally, he pulled off to the side of the road demanding Harry get out.

Weak and exhausted, Harry complied, stumbling outside. He barely remembered the conversation, the demands of exactly what had happened. All he remembered was when he finally told the truth, about Polkiss beating him up and then teleporting into the cupboard, his face again burned painfully as his uncle's fist made contact.

Harry felt crazed laughter bubbling tiredly within him as he thought about the whole affair. His face still stung and burned with pain, but somehow despite what he had thought when Polkiss initially hit him, somehow his glasses actually hadn't broken and neither had his nose. Instead all that Harry had was a healing scratch and a black eye. Not to mention the bruises I now have from him. Weak and utterly exhausted, Harry drifted off wondering how much longer he could endure everything.


They sat in the den each reading their own book, or attempting to. Petunia finally sat the book down, glancing hesitantly at the ceiling wondering if Harry and Dudley were asleep. She finally turned to Vernon. 'You hit him?' she finally asked, though the question didn't require an answer.

Sighing, Vernon rolled his eyes and glanced at her. 'Why? That what the boy said?'

'He didn't say a thing. In fact, he just apologized and said it was his fault. He wouldn't tell me exactly what happened and he wouldn't let me touch him. I brought some food up, but he just asked me to leave and then locked the door behind me. What the hell happened!' Petunia couldn't help her voice rising at the end. She had been frantically looking for Harry ever since he disappeared that Monday afternoon. Even Dudley had been distressed about his cousin's missing, but Vernon had almost seemed happy, as though a heavy burden were finally gone. Sighing, in a tiny voice, she asked, 'Is it that bad having Harry?'

Vernon took a while to respond, the silence building, almost suffocating. 'Where would we send him and what would we tell people? We can take care of our own boy, but we can't take the spawn of another? I have no love for the child, don't get me wrong, but it seems a cruel thing to send him off to hurt some poor unsuspecting family. At least we know what we're in for.'

She couldn't find words as she sat in the silence. The warm strength that sometimes coiled up fought to break free and she shivered despite it. There was a hollow of cold evil that boiled in Vernon and she felt it only when he spoke of Harry. She could understand, but that aching warmth pleaded for her to do something, and just as suddenly it faded away in a fog. 'I understand,' she found herself saying, automatically. 'Was it an accidental?'

'Boy said he was being beaten by some kids from school and suddenly found himself in the cupboard. Don't know if I believe it or not. I mean, can their kind do that? Teleport or whatever it is? Terrifies me.'

'He turns eleven this July,' Petunia said instead of answering his question. 'The letters will start coming in June.' Clenching her eyes, she didn't realize she was crying until the tears streamed down her cheeks. 'What do we do, Vernon? What can we do?' He said nothing while she sat crying; they had discussed the matter before, and all they could conclude was that with no response the school would eventually give up. Some part of Petunia doubted in that, but with a rattling inhale, she turned to her husband with a hesitant smile. 'Well, since we can't do anything for a while, all we can do is take care of the now.'

'Right,' Vernon said nodding his head as he rubbed at his mustache. 'You hear from Dudley? He wants to join the wrestling team.'


Harry woke up bright and early on a Tuesday morning, the sun spilling in through the window. His heart was racing and he found himself in a cold sweat. As usual he couldn't quite remember the dream, but he found himself shaking. Glancing at the clock he groaned at the time as he fumbled for his glasses. It was barely six in the morning and he slowly found himself getting dressed for the day in ratty sneakers, baggy jeans, and a loose-fitting t-shirt. He went to the calendar and sighed. 'It's almost my birthday.' Bitterly, he grabbed his backpack and jacket from the floor.

Things in their new home seemed to have gone downhill causing Harry to lose sense of time. With every passing day since his mysterious disappearance, Vernon's distaste had escalated and somehow it affected the whole household. Petunia still treated him with some semblance of normality, but somehow she was skittish around him and prone to tearing up. Vernon, on the other hand, either ignored him for the most part unless something went wrong. Just that evening he had yelled at Harry for killing off the azaleas in the window before Petunia came home and told him they had had mites. Little things like that ate at Harry, filling the icy pit of hatred and anger he felt. If that were not enough, Dudley had a new friend.

Polkiss, Harry thought tiredly, checking his bag to make sure he had the books he wanted. I think Dudley invited him over today.

Heading downstairs, Harry was surprised to find Petunia already up in her cotton robe making coffee as he entered the kitchen. 'Are you off somewhere?' Petunia asked, ruffling his hair. She turned and began pulling out eggs and bacon from the fridge and turning the stove on under the skillet. 'At least have breakfast before you go.'

Giving a hesitant smile, Harry tried not to look at his aunt. He took a seat on the bar stool at the counter, setting his stuff on the floor. He had once tried to talk to her about Polkiss beating him up, and how Dudley was changing, but she had simply insisted that Polkiss seemed like a nice enough boy, and that maybe Harry was just jealous of how much attention Dudley was paying to Polkiss instead of to him. While he waited and ate breakfast, Petunia and he talked mostly about mundane things such as where was he going and to be back before dinnertime and whether he needed money for lunch. Harry tried to respond as normally as possible, finding himself glancing worriedly at the clock. I know Polkiss probably won't come until afternoon, but better safe than sorry.


The park was a couple miles wide covered in trees and with a small pond in the center. Already a few joggers and walkers were using the walkways, but for the most part the place was empty. Picking a large willow, the grass barely damp from the morning, Harry sat down beneath it and began to read halfheartedly from a book.

Uncle's been acting particularly strange lately. It's been going on all week. Harry thought about how he had tried to get the mail. When he had gotten back in the house, Vernon had cornered him, grabbing him by the ear, and threatening to ground him if he ever got it again. Allowing himself to sink into his book, the day wore on warming nicely until he was sleepy. After a short break to get something from a nearby store, he found himself back at the willow, relaxing against its trunk.

It was strange, but Harry began to feel the warmth and energy from the tree as he grew sleepier and sleepier. It was as though the willow had a mind of its own, reaching out and gently curling into Harry's own mind and energy. Before he knew it, Harry had fallen asleep waking groggily as the sun was beginning to set, he found his hand gently grasping one of the tree's roots. Surprised Harry felt groggy and like he had gotten too much sun, and at the same time deeply rested and refreshed. He could barely believe how long he must have slept for, a crick in his neck. Sighing, he straightened up, putting his book back into his bag. Maybe I'll stop by the store again for some water before I head home, he thought. Suddenly there was a loud hoot and a large great-horned owl came sweeping down from the tree's branches. Surprised, Harry stared in awe at the yellow-eyed bird who perched awkwardly on the ground before him. Unsure of what do, he was surprised when the owl pecked at him and waving his wings showed a leather tube attached to his leg.

'Uh, a-are you here for me, then?' Harry asked uncertainly, looking around to see if anyone saw him speaking to a bird. He felt awkward in the dimming daylight, but the owl gave a hoot as if in response. 'Okay, then. H-Hold on.' Reaching out, Harry pulled open the tube, careful not to prod the bird too much, and extracted a yellowed scroll complete with wax seal. He had heard of messenger pigeons, but never messenger owls. Before he realized it, the owl suddenly flapped its large wings as if to shoo Harry away and took flight, his delivery complete.

'How odd,' Harry muttered. The parchment further surprised him because in emerald green in were the words:

Mister Harry Potter | #4 Privet Drive | Little Whinging | Surrey

Well, that certainly is me, but how would the bird know? He looked up as if expecting to see the bird watching him, but of course the owl was long gone. Turning back to the scroll he carefully peeled at the wax seal and within he found another piece of yellowed parchment with a peculiar letterhead:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

Assistant Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

'Bloody hell,' Harry heard himself mutter. The whole things was strange and he was beginning to feel like the butt of a really bad joke. He rolled his eyes glancing around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. People were still mulling about the park, some as couples hand-in-hand. Leaning against the support of the tree, Harry found himself reading further. Despite the inclination to toss the joke of a letter, the compulsion to read further was stronger.

Dear Mister Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to our school of witchcraft and wizardry. Your name is in our registry already due to your parents' wills, but we require your personal signature to ensure you have received this letter. Along with this sheet are two pieces of parchment and information for catching the school train. One of which requires your signature and is spelled, so we will know if it has been signed. The other is a list of required school supplies.

If the signature sheet has not been signed by July 31, a representative from the school will come to your home and request an audience with your current guardians.

The start of term is September 1st.

Yours sincerely,

Professor of Transfiguration & Assistant Headmistress

Minerva McGonagall

Snorting, Harry couldn't help but start laughing. It was obviously an elaborate joke or some scheme. The whole thing was too brilliant for Polkiss, but Harry wouldn't put it past another of his classmates. But then, something ached in him as his laughter died. Harry read the letter again, pausing at each fantastical word, letting it soak into him. The wind suddenly gusted through and a twig from the tree landed on the paper surprising Harry; the twig was pointed like a pencil as if the tree were telling Harry to sign the bizarre letter. Sighing, Harry rose, dusting himself off. He eyed the tree wearily muttering, 'Even if it were true, I don't dare believe in magick.' The tree said nothing of course, but Harry found himself tucking the twig into his bag with the letter, and for some reason he bowed to the old willow a silent trembling of energy seeming to pass between them as he turned for home.


'Mrs. Figgs will watch the boy,' Vernon said, sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of brandy on the rocks. Petunia was still preparing dinner, glancing at the clock as she wondered where Harry was. 'Dudley and Polkiss said they want to have a day at the zoo if possible. It's his birthday after all.'

'I know that, but it just seems strange.' Petunia found herself craning her neck, looking out at the walkway for any sign of her nephew. Sighing she turned to her husband. 'Dudley and Harry used to always celebrate together since their birthdays are only a month apart. Why the sudden change?'

Shrugging, Vernon took a sip from his drink. 'Let it go. Boy's growing up is all and wants some independence. Besides, part of it was because of the money situation. It was easier to just celebrate the two of them all at once. Now we might as well let them break from each other for a bit. It's good for Dudley to be spending time with that Polkiss I think. He seemed all-too-happy to go spend the night tonight.'

Grabbing plates and slowly setting the table, the ticking of the clock reminded Petunia that Harry had been gone since very early that morning. She wondered if something had happened or maybe he had vanished yet again. Some part of her feared him being found by them—but that was absurd. There was no reason for Lily's world to hound them not since the Dursleys were Harry's guardians. 'Did another letter come for him today?' she glanced at her husband, hoping.

'Surprisingly no. I think the lot have finally gotten the message.' There was a pause though as Vernon set his glass carefully on the table. 'But, letter or no, what will happen with the boy? Obviously the magick isn't out of him just because the school stopped trying. It's not just going to dry up because he doesn't go, is it?'

About to reply, the door slamming scared Petunia so badly she dropped a plate. It shattered when it hit the ground, scattering on the kitchen floor. Harry shuffled into the kitchen, his face unreadable. 'Harry! You startled me. Why don't you wash up for dinner?' Reaching for the dustpan, she realized that Harry hadn't moved.

'Your aunt told you to do something!' Vernon said gruffly, sipping again, but as he went to set the drink down the glass flew from his hand and smashed against the opposite wall. Surprised, Vernon glanced from his hand to the wall, then to Harry. Petunia, too, found herself wide-eyed watching her nephew.

Harry finally muttered, voice icily calm, 'It's true then. Magick and the like.' He gave a twisted smirk he snorted. 'Well, seems like you two will be wanting a chat with me then.' With that Harry turned and left the kitchen and Petunia, finally remembering to breathe, glanced at Vernon, trembling.

'What have we done,' she found herself saying, a quiver of fear in her voice. Again like a suffocating wave of heat, the desire to comfort and protect Harry reared up making Petunia gasp. Vernon at this point had risen from his seat and gone to her, cradling her in his arms. The feeling was just as suddenly ripped from her leaving her confused. Why do I feel like I'm being drained or changed? she wondered as Vernon and she slowly made their way to the living room where Harry sat on the couch, staring at his feet. What has happened to me? To us?

As she and Vernon sat in their respective chairs, Petunia leaned forward trying to make eye contact with Harry. 'Honey, there's much, much we haven't told you. We were doing it to protect you. Please understand that.'

'Your lot is dangerous. Imagine having inhuman power to change and warp the nature of things?' Vernon piped in. 'Look at what happened to your parents.'

Eyes wide, Petunia whirled on her husband, but too late. She could feel the change in the room as if all the heat was being sucked out of it. Cautiously, she watched as the couch slowly became frost covered, her breath coming out steamy white. 'Harry, you must calm down. Just let us explain.' Before anything more was said, though, a thunderous boom came at the door.

Vernon shot up, obviously relieved. 'I'd better get that.'


Harry didn't know how to reel in the storm that was brewing. All he felt was cold anger and bitterness surround him as he tried to follow everything. It was like the carefully constructed world he had built since living with the Dursley family was coming to an end in crumbling chunks. He barely noticed when Petunia cautiously came over to him as Vernon went to answer the door. She hesitantly placed her hand on his lap, wide brown eyes pleading.

'Honey, please listen to me,' she said, tears slowly creeping out the corners of her eyes. 'Every lie, everything we never told you was to try and keep you safe. I wish you could understand, and I wish I could explain it better, but…'

Before she got another word out, though, Vernon started shouting, 'GET OUT OF HERE! What the hell do you think you're doing!' and gasped as something or someone knocked him out of the way. Moving defensively in front of Harry, Petunia stood, shaking.

Looking up, Harry almost gasped as a huge lumbering man came stomping into the house, the floor vibrating with each step he took. The man looked to be well over seven feet in height and was about three grown men wide; somehow, despite his girth, he had squeezed into the living area followed hesitantly by an enraged Vernon. Despite the severity of the situation, Harry couldn't help but feel a triumphant yet sickening course of glee at the ruffled look of his uncle. Finally his uncle had found something he couldn't beat into submission.

'Sorry 'bout this,' the man spoke, his voice gruff and crackled. Wiry black hair was knotted in dreads of leather, feathers, and beads that streamed down the man's broad shoulders to his mid-back; the same hair covered most of the man's face in a bristled beard leaving only a ruddy nose, bright pink cheeks, and cheery brown eyes exposed. 'Me name's Rubeus Hagrid, ma'am and sir.' He lifted a hand to Petunia, who placed her hand on Harry's shoulder.

He wanted to pull away from her, but something about the contact, made him blink up at Petunia and for the first time he felt the horrendous storm starting to abate. Harry watched his aunt square her shoulders, obviously scared both of the magick that still boiled in him and of the giant-man who had barged into their home unannounced. 'Well, Mister Hagrid. Now really is not a good time to come into our home without invitation. Who are you and what are you doing here?' she snapped. Vernon slowly edged towards them, obviously shaken from the giant knocking him out of the way earlier.

Rubbing the back of his head, the leather jacket he wore creaking as he moved, Rubeus sheepishly chuckled. 'My bad really ma'am, but I have me orders an' I was told to come an' speak to you lot no matter what about what concerns Mister Potter.' Glancing at Harry who sat on the couch, his face unmoving as he tried his hardest to quell the cold that gnawed at him, wanting nothing more than to shatter and hail into Vernon; as if sensing the danger he was potentially in, Vernon stopped cold, his face pale as his eyes darted between Hagrid and Harry.

'And what concerns my nephew?' Petunia asked.

Pausing, Hagrid nodded to Harry. 'This 'im then? Last I saw of 'im he was a babe. Actually, I was the one who brought him to your doorstep!' he said this proudly, making Harry flinch.

'You brought me here?' Harry asked, his heart feeling sickened. Because of this stranger, he had come to live with the Dursleys. It itched and burned at him that at the whim of this person, he had been sentenced to Vernon—to being beaten and threatened—to a torment that made him ache to join his parents. 'You brought me to them! To him!' Standing, he bumped into his aunt, who, wide-eyed, slowly backed away. The frost, which had once melted on the couch, crystallized formed ice chunks that slowly stretched from the plush cushions to the hardwood floor.

There was silence except for the crackle of ice as it grew and spread. Vernon, too found himself edging away from Harry. 'Stop!' Harry snapped, a picture frame beside his uncle flying and nearly hitting the man in the head as it clattered to the floor. He glanced at his aunt and the giant man. 'You will all explain to me what the fuck is going on.' Some part of him was breaking, he realized as he took his seat among the ice. The careful control he had built up over his emotions was snapping. As he watched his aunt slide into a chair, tears down her face, Harry saw something peculiar. It was like watching paint swirl as a fiery red aura blazed from her chest, but the light was quickly cut out by a dark circle, like a fire being stamped out. Ignoring it, he asked, 'Would you tell me what happened to my parents?'

Nodding, Petunia glanced at Hagrid, and her husband who stood shaking. 'W-We told you that they died in a car crash…'

'WHAT!' Hagrid snapped, his voice a roar. 'A car crash kill the Potters! You lot surely could have come with something better, something that painted the truth more like! Lily and James were bloody heroes and you lot better know it! Harry the biggest hero among the Potters!'

Clenching her eyes, Petunia said in a growling voice, surprising Harry, 'You will keep your words to yourself, Rubeus Hagrid. I remember who you are, now, from Lily, and I know you were friends of their family during the Dark War, but you will stay your tongue as this is a family affair and nothing of yours. I will tell my nephew the truth as it is my sin to bear, and you will give me the decency to keep your mouth shut until your opinion is needed.' Turning on Harry, the boy was surprised at the regret and pain he saw in his aunt's face.

'Harry, your parents were heroes, and this man was right that we did them no justice saying they died in a car crash. They were a part of something that was horrible and hideous, something that even you were unknowingly a part of. When we were growing up, there was a war going on and slowly Lily became a part of that; she called it the Dark War, a war against a wizard so powerfully warped by the magick he possessed that it dared to shake the foundations of Lily's world and our world apart. During that time, there were stories of people vanishing, strange diseases, deaths—it was horrible growing up under that, but worst of all was realizing how powerless I was against something like that. My sister, my sweet little sister joined in that war with your father, Harry,' by this time Petunia was crying and Harry was hanging on to every word she said. 'The worst part was realizing with every year and moment she was involved was one step closer to her dying and I couldn't handle it—not with our parents dying on us when I was sixteen and me left to take care of her.

'I stopped speaking with her for a time, and the last piece of mail I received from her was to tell me that she and Potter had a child—you. A year passed and before I knew it, we found you on the doorstep with nothing but a letter giving a vague depiction of what had happened.' She turned glaring at Hagrid who shame-faced stared at the ground. 'All it said was that my sister and her husband had died leaving you to my care. THAT was all it said. If it hadn't been for the bank releasing her will to me, I never would have known half of her life in that God awful war.' Petunia turned to Harry, hesitantly. 'I didn't want that for you. That darkness, the twisted magick. Instead, your uncle and I discussed it and wanted to keep it from you. I saw how it changed my sister and inevitably that magick led to her death.'

There was silence as Harry tried to swallow everything. The ice had stopped it's growth, leaving him in almost a throne-like seat of chilled crystal. All his eleven years he had strongly believed that magick was wrong, but some part of him had craved it. Glancing at what was around him, he snorted. Magick was all-too real now. 'And what has your hiding and lying done for me,' he found himself numbly saying, his emotions too far away for him to understand. Looking between his aunt and Vernon, he gave a smile, obviously darker than he realized as he watched his aunt flinch.

'Ye lot were right,' Hagrid began, making Harry jump. The man had been silent since Petunia blew up on him. 'I shouldn't have jumped in like that.' Frowning, he looked at Harry. 'I'm afraid though, that things aren't so cut an' dry. Ye can't just stop magick. It's part of a wizard's bein' an' Harry's a powerful wizard.' He nodded at the boy as if that were explanation enough.

'Bloody hell we can't!' snapped Vernon, which was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly he gasped as ice snared his feet, and Harry let out a chilling laugh. Even Hagrid look taken aback at Harry's reaction.

'You,' Harry hissed, 'will say nothing.' There was true terror in not only his uncle's eyes, but he saw even in Hagrid, whose jaw had dropped.

The power Harry felt from his anger and hatred was intoxicating. He watched his uncle's terror with pleasure, but it wasn't until Petunia collapsed to her knees sobbing, begging that he realized just what he was doing. 'Harry, please stop this! We were wrong.' Her body shook with tears as she looked at him, her arms wrapped about herself. 'I was wrong.' Just with that the ice shattered, melting into puddles on the floor, making Vernon stagger to his knees.

Harry rose from his seat, numbly focusing on Hagrid. 'You're from that school, yes?'

Dumbfounded, the man nodded, hesitantly. 'That I am. Groundskeeper there. Dumbledore, the headmaster, sent me here to check on you since it seemed you weren't getting your letters.'

Clenching his eyes, exhausted, Harry turned to his aunt. 'If only you hadn't tried so hard to beat the magick from me. I can't do this anymore.' He found his own face was wet with tears and he bitterly turned to Vernon. 'I never want to see your disgusting face again. I see you already in my nightmares.' Looking at Hagrid, he sighed. 'Can you take me from here? I'm afraid if you don't, I'll kill them.'

His face going white, Hagrid nodded. 'I can do that for ye. We'll 'ave to make a stop in London before I can take ye to the school, but I'm sure things will work out. Dumbledore's a nice man.'

Petunia whispered an, 'I'm sorry,' as Harry left the room and Number 4 Privet Drive that Tuesday evening with Hagrid to a world that seemed more hopeful than the storm that raged in his heart.