Chapter Four:

Piers lay awake on Dudley's floor, bundled up in a sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling as Dudley snored loudly in the bed beside him, face turned towards the wall. A few minutes ago he had been muttering about dementoids and how cold he was, but Piers assumed it was a nightmare, for which he would most assuredly tease Dudley about in the morning.

Outside a heavy fog was pressing against the window, so much that only a scant amount of light from the lamp outside the house actually reached the bedroom, giving the window a soft yellow glow. The atmosphere it gave the room was almost ethereal, like a transitory state between life and death. Only it was colder than Piers would expect death to be, more cloying and frightening than comforting and welcoming.

"You're going to leave me, aren't you?" His mother screamed the words at his back as he opened the front door, stepping out into the soft light of dusk.

He turned to look at her, regret boiling in his throat. "I told you that I would never leave, mum. I promised you, right?"

"You father promised the same thing. Till death do you part."

Rolling over onto his side, Piers looked out the window, imagining his mother sitting in their house, drinking her whiskey, afraid to be sober long enough to realize the pain.

Dudley snorted, rolling over onto his back. On the wall above his bed hung his boxing gloves. Piers thought about the finals that year, how Dudley took down one opponent right after the other. Only no one was cheering loudly, they all just watched the fight, clapping and whistling weakly when someone would fall flat on their back, down for the count.

Even then, inside with a crowd of people Piers felt cold. The last year was difficult to take in. The tragedy of the bridge collapse, followed by the hurricane up north, not to mention random murders, and weather to match the mood of the country. However, all of that took a back seat to his father leaving. He just went out one evening and never came back, no note, no phone call, nothing. His mother had desperately called every hospital in Surrey hoping that maybe he was there, but in the end she had to face reality; her husband had left them.

Now he was planning on doing the same thing and it tore him apart. It hurt to be around her, seeing her condition deteriorate before his eyes, but he couldn't leave her alone. He loved her too much, despite the events of the evening. Touching the bandages, he could see the anguish in her eyes as she hit him across the head with the rolling pin.

Piers wanted more than anything to be there for her, but he didn't see how he could help her when he was in the same boat. Without his father Piers felt alone, unsure of himself. He had always been Piers' best friend, but now that he was gone Piers had no one to talk to. Dudley was only good for so much; he wasn't big on the talking, especially when it came to such personal matters. He listened, nodded, and took it all in but Piers got nothing out of him but companionship, someone to waste time with. In his own way he took care of him, but Dudley had too much on his own plate to appreciate the immensity of Piers' situation.

There was a rift in society and everyone was slowly drawing away from each and into themselves as the world around them broke out into chaos. Riots in the streets, murders, gang violence; the Prime Minister himself spoke on the tele about what was going on, assuring everyone that it was all unrelated and was being taken care of. Who was taking care of it, and how it was being done was beyond the sights of the nation.

"I have to see her," Piers whispered, strengthening his resolve. He'd decided that he would stay with the Dursleys; he couldn't help himself if he was so focused on helping her, but he wasn't going to leave her with nothing. She deserved at least one good-bye.

Slipping out of his covers, he slipped out of the room, tiptoeing down the hallway and stairs, the roar of the Dursley's snoring filled the house. Stepping into his shoes and pulling on his jacket Piers unlocked the front door, opening it slowly. Once outside his pace quickened, the last thing he wanted was to be out in the chilling mist.

His visibility was reduced to an arm's length in front of his face. The fog around him twisted and curled, only there wasn't a breeze, just an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach. With each footstep Piers felt more removed from himself, the sound of his mother's blows ringing in his ears.

Never leave me... Till death do us part… Just like your father… I need you Piers...

Something brushed against his face. Piers turned around quickly, squinting through the muffled darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever touched him. He jumped; there it was again, like a clammy hand caressing the back of his neck. His spine shook with fear, his legs almost giving out from under him. Bile rose in his throat as the cold closed in around him, his mother's voice screaming in his ears.

"Love me! LOVE ME! DON'T LEAVE YOU BRAT! I RAISED YOU! YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT LEAVING! I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR EYES! "

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, like there was a wet towel over his mouth, his insides wrenched dangerously, and then there was nothing.

&

Dedalus Diggle hurried over to the boy, hoping that his Patronus made it in time. He had watched the young man leaving Number 4 and hadn't thought to follow him since his orders were protect Harry's relatives, but when he saw the Dementors come out of nowhere and go after him he felt it was safe to leave his post.

Bent over Piers' body, Diggle pulled out his wand and revived him, quickly stowing the wand back inside his robes. Slowly the boy began to rouse, propping himself up on his elbows. He looked over at Diggle and started, scooting away from the queer looking man.

"Who are you? What's going on?" His head felt like it was going to explode, his entire body weak and shaking.

"No time for that, where do you live? No good, being out this late on your own. Let me escort you home."

There was a loud meow from their right and a cat came out of the darkness, its tail puffed up considerably, the hairs on its back sticking straight up. Startled, Piers shouted, following over onto his back again.

Diggle squatted down next to it, petting the creature softly, whispering comforting words to it until its fur returned to normal. Then he bent even closer, cupping his hand over the cat's ear. Having pushed himself back up into a seated position, Piers watched this exchange curiously. For a second it looked as if the cat were nodding but Piers was pretty sure he hit his head in the fall and as a result was seeing things.

With a flick of its tail the cat was gone and the man stood back up, straightening out his robes. "Poor thing, just needed a little love," he said unconvincingly, his voice high and squeaky.

"Were you talking to it?" Piers breathed, his lungs still feeling compressed. In his mind he saw Dudley's cousin Harry talking to the snake at the zoo right before it attacked them.

Dedalus didn't tell the boy anything, just reached out his hand and helped him up onto his feet. He only came up to Piers' chest. With his hand wrapped around the boy's back to keep him steady he led him to the corner.

"Left."

As they hobbled along Piers thought he could see dark shapes hovering on the edges of the night, hidden deep in the fog. They whispered his name, their words laced with images of his dad walking out the door, smiling at Piers, telling him he would be back soon.

"Ignore them," Dedalus muttered, his tiny eyes darting back and forth nervously. "Focus on something happy, hold it deep inside you."

But there was nothing happy inside Piers, all he felt was sorrow and anguish. Their walk felt like a gauntlet, with each step his emotional core took another blow. Already weakened it wasn't long before he was crying silently, his body becoming limper in Diggle's arms.

"Damn Dementors," the little man cursed, his words falling short of Piers ears, which felt as if they had been shoved full of buzzing bees. "Fluttering about all over the place, no wonder all the muggles are going mad."

Several streets down Piers was barely able to mutter, "Turn right here, it's the first house on the left."

Dragging Piers up the front steps, Dedalus magicked the door open, letting the boy fall onto the foyer floor. As the door snapped shut the wizard turned on the spot and with a soft crack disappeared.

&

Something dug into Piers' side, rousing him from his stupor. Through the haze curtaining his eyes he could see the outline of his mother standing over him a whiskey bottle in hand and a grimace on her face.

"Go out all night and then stumble home, you rotten piece of filth. Did you and that fat ass friend of yours go get drunk again? Answer me."

She kicked him hard in the gut, taking a swig of alcohol. "You left me all alone, just like your father."

As her foot swung toward him again, Piers rolled back and reached out, grabbing her foot and tugging hard so she lost her balance. With a loud crash she slammed into the coat rock, her body buried in an avalanche of hats and jackets.

His muscles feeling like lead, Piers strained to get up, hobbling into the kitchen, the screams of his mother scratching at his retreating back.

Grabbing onto the ledge of a counter, Piers held himself up, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Voices whispered in his head, just quiet enough so he couldn't decipher what they said, but they were still there, like a low hum that was slowly getting louder and more distracting.

He pounded at his head, screaming for it to stop. Images of his father dead in some dark alley filled his mind, tramps stripping the body of all its possessions. As it got worse the pounding turned into scratching, chunks of skin ripping up under his fingernails as he tried to drive the voices out.

"I hate you..."

The blood was warm on his face, driving out the chill that had filled him with dread for months. The voices began to wane, calm returning to his mind. Piers sank to the floor, wiping his bloody hands on the knees of his jeans.

His eye shut slowly, his breathing returning to normal. The plan was to rest until morning and then make his way back to Dudley's. There was no closure for him here, just a crazy mother who didn't deserve to get a proper good-bye. No wonder his father left so quickly.

Crash

Glass fragments flew at Piers, who instinctively covered his face. Once the onslaught had ended he looked to his side where just the top of his mother's whiskey bottle lie, the ends jagged and cruel.

The woman flew at him then, her hands wrapping around his throat.

"Ungrateful shit, never should've given birth to you... Should've listened to me mum, the coat hanger was the only way to go with a little shit like you."

Piers gasped, his hands slamming onto the linoleum, shards of glass slipping into his skin. As consciousness began to fade Piers grabbed the neck of the bottles and with all the strength left in him sank the broken end into his mother's face, twisting viciously. There was a sickening squelch as Mrs. Polkiss fell away from his, the bottle lodged into her cheek, the skin torn and ragged.

A pool of blood rolled across the floor, pulling around Piers as the cold returned, his body shaking violently, limbs erratically flinging out. The memories poured into his mind as his mother's dead eyes stared up at him. The times she kissed him goodnight, the way they uesd to dance to the radio while his father read the evening paper, it all seeped into him, blood memories, his mother's last thoughts, he was sure.

Then it all made sense. If her gave her his own blood, shared his memories with her, poured them over her body, it would all be better. They would be together again, the way they used to be.

His hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle again, dislodging it from his mother's face, but all the hate had left his body. All he felt now was sadness. Rolling up his sleeve he took the broken bottle end and held it to his wrist, puncturing his pale, sweaty skin.

Dementors all around Little Whinging had been surrounding the house in the last few minutes, feeding on the despair that rolled off it in waves. There was no more happiness in the walls of the structure, it had been sucked dry. It was just a shell, the dead bodies of the inhabitants testament to the workings of the dark creatures.

As the life left Piers' body, they glided away, disappearing into the fog to find a new victim.

With his working hand Piers smothered his lips with blood and kissed his mother's pristine cheek, thinking that he had loved her once, trying to pass those memories to her soul on the otherside.

"You wretched bitch, my mom..."

&

Dudley sat up in his bed, his eyes swerving to the empty sleeping bag on the floor. "Shit! God damn it, Piers."

He didn't expect the best.