A/N: Harry is attacked by four dementors (instead of two)—only there's a catch: They weren't sent by Umbridge…

Chapter Three by Morsmordre

Harry Potter was not in a good mood.

Of course, he normally wasn't in a good mood when he was living with the Dursleys. Today, the Dursleys (or rather, Aunt Petunia) had made him scrub out the whole house. Now that it was evening, Harry was finally done, but of course he was very tired from the whole thing.

Harry was sitting in his Aunt Petunia's flowerbed, listening to the six o'clock news from outside. It was a cool evening, and the moon was up early. Seeing the full moon reminded Harry slightly of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin. Harry wondered where he (Professor Lupin, that is) was and how he was doing.

"—crazy gangsters, the lot of them—" Harry overheard a snitch of conversation coming from the living room to the flowerbed, where he was crouched. It was his Uncle Vernon's voice. "They're all just hoodlums—"

Harry snorted. It was just like Uncle Vernon to overlook the fact that his own son, Dudley Dursley, was a hoodlum himself.

"Why are they even bothering to tell us these things?" Aunt Petunia's voice sniffed. "Why would we be interested in movie stars' petty affairs?"

Harry snorted again, thinking about all the time his aunt spent reading gossip magazines and spying on the neighbors. What a bunch of hypocrites.

Harry thought about his two friends, Ron and Hermione. Their letters he had received were all short and to-the-point:

Ron: Mate, I know this is annoying, having letters sent to you that don't mean anything, but we can't tell you anything. Dumbledore made us promise. We're OK, hope the Muggles don't give you much trouble… Blah blah blah.

Hermione: Harry, I know this must be frustrating, but Professor Dumbledore made us promise not to tell you anything. I'm sorry about this, but you'll find out what this is all about soon, and I'll see you again later. I hope you're OK, we're fine here… Harry was plain sick of it.

He was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived! He was the one who had witnessed Voldemort's resurrection, and the one who the Daily Prophet was trashing, just because Fudge, the incompetent fool, wouldn't believe Voldemort was back! (In my story, Harry read the parts about himself being an attention-seeker and everything.)

If Harry was so important, why was Dumbledore keeping secrets from him? It was enough to make anyone tear their hair out with frustration.

CRACK! Harry was interrupted from his musing by a loud noise. Harry jumped—if he wasn't mistaken, that was the sound of someone Disapparating from Privet Drive.

Harry sat up to see who it was—only to be forced back down again by Uncle Vernon's hand.

"Get down, boy!" Harry's uncle hissed at him. "What if someone sees you?"

Harry pried his uncle's meaty paws off of him. "You're choking me!" he hissed back.

"What in the name of dickens was that?" Uncle Vernon snarled, his face apoplectic with rage.

"It wasn't me!" Harry snarled back angrily, his fists clenched. "I don't know who that was!"

"What—have—we—told—you—about—that—freakishness?!" Uncle Vernon was practically spitting, he was so angry. "We—will—not—tolerate—that—here!"

"It wasn't me!" Harry repeated angrily, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to want to listen.

Harry watched as the neighbors finally lost interest and turned away from their windows and fences. Uncle Vernon shot Harry a final glare before turning back to the living room to watch TV.

"Where's Dudley?" Harry heard Uncle Vernon ask.

"At the Polkisses' house, having tea," was Aunt Petunia's response. "He's so popular, he has so many friends," she added fondly.

Harry snorted for what had to be the third time that day. Did his aunt seriously believe Dudley was having tea? He definitely wasn't—hanging around the park with his gang and bullying little kids, more like.

Harry got up from the flowerbed once he found it was clear that he wasn't going to get any important information from the Muggle TV news. He walked out of the garden and down the street. He saw a few people peering out at him curiously, but ignored it. The Dursleys had told everyone that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, or something like that, so Harry was pretty sure that was why the neighbors were looking at him. Besides, Harry was used to the staring.

As Harry walked to the park, his mind focused on Sirius Black, his godfather. Sirius had been put in Azkaban for something he didn't do and was there for twelve years before escaping. Now he was off in hiding with a would-have-been executed hippogriff, if it weren't for the fact that Harry and one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, hadn't rescued the hippogriff to rescue Sirius.

I know all your friends have sent you pointless letters, and I'm sorry, but my letter will be pointless, too: Keep your wand with you at all times, and don't do anything rash—we'll send someone to get you sometime, once Dumbledore agrees.

Harry had been just as frustrated with Sirius's letter as he had been with Ron's and Hermione's—what was everyone talking about? It was clear something big had happened, and no one was going to tell him what it was about. (A/N: I know I promised not to put author's notes in the middle of chapter because it's annoying, but I have to clear this up: I'm not talking about James coming back to life, because that hasn't happened yet—it's happening right now (because of the whole entire full moon thing). I'm talking about the Order of the Phoenix.)

Harry couldn't help wondering what it (the big thing that happened, I mean) was, and as he walked toward the park, he also couldn't help feeling as if someone was watching him. It was kind of like the feeling before second year with Dobby and everything, only different. Harry wondered if someone was following him, but when he turned around, there was nothing there.

Harry got to the park and began walking around. Even though it wasn't seven yet, and it was summer, it was already beginning to get dark out. The trees were casting shadows all over the park, and a cool, light, summer breeze blew through the air.

Harry heard snatches of conversation from the other end of the park. Harry heard enough to realize that it was Dudley and his gang.

"That was awesome, Big D!" Harry heard a familiar voice say—it was Piers Polkiss, the kid with the scrawny face of a rat who had gotten Harry into trouble on Dudley's birthday, before Harry had known that he was a wizard.

Harry snickered at the nickname. Big D? What kind of nickname was that?

"See ya, Big D," another voice said. There was the shuffling sound of footsteps, which Harry took to be the sound of Dudley's gang leaving.

Harry took this moment to enter the scene. "Hey, Big D!" he called, practically strutting towards his cousin.

Dudley immediately whirled around (which was no small task—considering how fat he was, it would be very hard to just immediately turn around). "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Can't a person greet his favorite cousin?" Harry knew he was annoying his cousin, and it satisfied him. Harry was really very annoyed with everyone (like Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore), even Sirius, and Dudley was an outlet for that annoyance.

"I'm your only cousin," came Dudley's nonplussed, but wary, response.

"Congratulations. How did you manage to figure that out?" Harry sneered, fingering his wand. OK, so now he was just provoking Dudley, but so? Harry was very annoyed with everyone, and this definitely helped. Considering all the time Dudley had spent tormenting him before he learned he was a wizard was just an added bonus.

Dudley sneered back. "You think you're such a big man, don't you, Potter, with your stick?"

Harry nearly laughed—this sounded so ridiculous coming from Dudley.

"But you're not brave without your stick. When you don't have your stick, you're just a coward."

Harry raised an eyebrow. This was a bit rich coming from Dudley…

"Especially at night."

Harry's eyebrow almost disappeared below his hairline. "This is night, Big D. That's what we call it when it gets all dark."

"No, I mean in bed." Dudley smirked as if he had just said something very clever.

"What do you mean, in b—" Harry never got to finish his sentence.

The air suddenly became very cold, as cold as if it were winter. At the same moment, the street was plunged into darkness.

"Wh-what did you d-do?" Dudley's voice squeaked. "I'm t-telling M-Mum that you used your y-y-you-know-what!"

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. "I didn't do anything, so just shut up and let me figure out what happened…"

But just as soon as these words left Harry Potter's mouth, he realized what exactly was happening.

The air around the two teenage boys became even colder, if possible. And Harry heard it—sharp, rattling breaths, sucking in the warm air and replacing it with freezing air. Harry would know the sound of that anywhere.

What were dementors doing at Privet Drive?

"St-stop it!" Dudley stammered. "Wh-what did you d-do?"

"S—" But Harry fell silent.

It appeared Dudley couldn't speak too…

Harry heard his parents' voices again.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now…"

"Not Harry, please… have mercy… have mercy…"

Harry stumbled slightly as the voices of his dying parents filled his head.

This is not the time to dwell on them…

Harry faltered a bit, searching his head for a pleasant memory before the dementors could come too close. Winning the Quidditch House Cup in third year… that has to count…

"Expecto patronum!"

A silver wisp shot out of his wand and died out. The voices were screaming louder…

Finding out I was leaving the Dursleys… That was an older memory…

"Expecto patronum!"

A large silver wisp flew out of Harry's wand, but faltered. Harry could hear Dudley whimpering… at least Dudley was still safe…

I'm going to leave the Dursleys… I'm going to see Sirius again…

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Prongs charged out of the end of Harry's wand. "Lumos!"

What Harry saw made him gasp.

Two dementors—two tall, cloaked, hooded dementors were towering over Dudley, who was clutching his massive backside, hunched over, and practically wailing. The other two dementors were being chased off at that very moment by Harry's Patronus.

"Go get them!" Harry shouted at Prongs, pointing to the dementors, one who was beginning to lower its hood. It was a sickening sight that the authoress is not going to describe.

The stag Patronus charged toward the two dementors, which both let out anguished screeches before turning and gliding away.

Dudley was now practically lying on the ground, whimpering. His face was a pale shade of white (I know that didn't sound right… ok, his face was an ashen color) and he was barely moving at all.

"Get up!" Harry hissed sharply. Dudley didn't move at all.

"Get up!"

"Are you all right?"

Harry jumped at the new voice and whirled around, his wand pointing at the speaker. He relaxed when he realized it was just Mrs. Figg, his old babysitter, then stiffened. Harry quickly stowed his wand in his back pants pocket.

"Don't put it away!" Mrs. Figg shrieked. "What if there are more of them around?… Oh, I'm going to kill him!"

Harry blinked in shock. "What…" he stammered out.

"Don't put your wand away, there may be more dementors out," was the evasive, but firm, reply. "What if there are more dementors about? I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

Harry blinked in shock. "Y… you're a witch?"

"A Squib, and Mundungus knows that!" Mrs. Figg muttered. "I couldn't have helped you get rid of those stupid things… freeze your heart up, don't they? And you!" she added sharply, pointing at Dudley. "Get up!"

Dudley whimpered again. Mrs. Figg tugged at Dudley, but Harry knew that even Hagrid and Uncle Vernon combined probably wouldn't be able to lift his cousin.

Just then there was a loud CRACK again. The next thing Harry knew, Mrs. Figg had slapped the man who had just Apparated into Privet Drive.

"Ow, Figgy, what'chu do that for?" The man complained, dropping the package he was holding.

"Dementors! Here on Privet Drive! And all because you weren't here, Mundungus Fletcher!" Mrs. Figg shrieked.

The man's jaw dropped. "Dementors? How?"

"If Harry didn't know how to create a Patronus, what would have happened, do you think?" Mrs. Figg was nearly hysterical.

"That would've been a bit of a problem," the man named Mundungus admitted.

"Mrs. Figg, I think I'd better be going now," Harry muttered, his head still reeling from this strange turn of events.

"Yes, you can go… don't think I'm going to just let this go!" Mrs. Figg was still berating the wizard.

Harry dragged Dudley toward Number Four, Privet Drive. He (Dudley, I mean) was very pale and shaky and could barely walk himself. Harry just couldn't wait to find out how he would be reprimanded and punished, and how Aunt Petunia would react to finding her dear Dinky Diddydums like this (oh, the joy. Note the sarcasm here).

Harry took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

A/N: You review and I update. Got it? Good.

-Morsmordre