"DUDDERS!"

Wincing at his Aunt's shriek, Harry just shoved past her, unashamedly dropping Dudley's limp bulk to the floor before staggering over to the stairs and collapsing onto them. Biting back the growing desire to hurl at the sight of a nightgown clad Petunia, he could only awkwardly stretch and clutch at his aching back, Dudley being no lighter when he was unconscious than he was when he was awake. Watching in disgust as his singlet and boxer wearing Uncle came rushing out of the kitchen at his Aunt's screams, Harry sneered at the sight of them both fussing over Dudley as they lifted him up and dragged him into the kitchen.

Merlin, that was the grossest thing Harry had ever seen… and he had caught Seamus 'reading' a copy of PlayWizard Weekly last year – those were images that Harry would never get out of his mind…

Moving images…

Rather grateful that he had unsurprisingly been ignored by his relatives, Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, rolling his aching shoulders carefully. Feeling something catching in his throat he coughed harshly, starting as a small cloud of ash escaped his mouth before cringing as he realized that meant he'd accidentally inhaled dementor. Running a hand through his hair and dislodging more ashes, Harry decided that he definitely needed a shower and moved to start up the staircase, only managing to get one foot on the bottom step before his Uncle's voice rang out through the house.

"BOY! GET IN HERE! NOW!"

Sighing under his breath, Harry removed his foot from the step and turned to move cautiously into the kitchen, pulling a face as he took in the sight of Petunia fluttering around Dudley with a wet towel in order to clean up the puke on his face. Easily stepping around the puddle of vomit in the middle of the floor, Harry just raised his eyebrow casually at his Uncle, refusing to cower back under Vernon's furious look. He hadn't done anything to Dudley, after all, unless one wanted to count the way Harry had saved his life.

"What... have you done... to my son?" Vernon growled as he puffed his chest out in an attempt to make himself look bigger.

"Nothing," Harry answered honestly, knowing perfectly well that the large man wouldn't believe a word he said. "But if you want, I can go get the ones that did," he offered coolly even as his Uncle's moustache quivered angrily, "I'm sure the dementors would like to finish sucking out his soul like they were before I stopped them".

"What did he do? Son? Did he use – was it you-know-what?" Vernon demanded turning on his son as he completely ignored what Harry had just said.

As Dudley nodded, Harry just rolled his eyes, having expected that as well. They couldn't even have a power cut without him being blamed for it, Harry was certain that if the world ended – as it seemed to do whenever his relatives were forced to acknowledge him – they'd still find a way to pin it on him.

"What did that thing do to you Dudders?" Aunt Petunia simpered, still mopping her son's face with the puke-covered towel.

"I didn't do anything," Harry repeated, making his Aunt and Uncle glare at him hatefully. "The reason he's like that, is because he decided to wake up in the middle of a dementor attack!" he exclaimed, "It's not my fault!"

"Was so," muttered a petulant Dudley, making his parents instantly swoop over him and fuss with his hair and pat his cheeks.

"Go on, son," Vernon said assuringly, "What did that little bastard do to you?"

"Pointed his hand at me," Dudley mumbled, going green suddenly and swaying slightly.

"Because pointing at people is such a crime," Harry deadpanned as Petunia rushed over to get a bowl for Dudley to clutch to his chest.

"Silence you," the horse-faced woman hissed, "Come on darling, tell us what happened".

"It all went dark," Dudley continued weakly, "Everything dark. I fell".

"The street-lamps went out and the moon was covered by clouds," Harry interrupted, anger burning in his chest as his hands curled into fists. "Your son's an absolute genius, by the way," he added as he started pacing, his mind racing with his own problems – namely, what were two dementors doing in Little Whinging?

"Then… then I h-heard… things. Inside my head".

At this, Vernon and Petunia exchanged horrified looks. If the thing they hated most was magic – well Harry first, then magic – and third came neighbours who were better than them (read: all of them), then coming in an easy fourth was people who heard voices and other insane 'weirdos'.

"Wha- what did you h- hear? Popkins?" questioned Aunt Petunia nervously; looking like her world was coming down around her.

As Dudley shook his head, his jaw clenching tightly, Harry stopped in his pacing to have a brief thought – what would Dudley… spoiled pampered bullying Dudley… be forced to hear when near the dementors? But alas, the thought was only brief, as the only answer Harry could come up with on short notice would be the words 'We're all going on a diet' and 'I'm sorry Sir, but we can't super-size your meal'.

"Are you happy now?" Vernon asked, Harry taking a moment to realise his Uncle was talking to him. "You've finally done it. You've finally driven him loopy!"

"Vernon!"

"Just look at him Petunia! Our boy has gone yumpy!" Vernon exclaimed, gesturing to Dudley whose eyes had crossed as he swayed back and forth. "That freak has put some… some crackpot spell on him so he'd hear voices!" he continued, making Petunia's eyes narrow in a dangerous glare as they both turned to glare at Harry. "I've had it with that boy," Vernon muttered, the two of them staring at him, "I say we toss his ungrateful rear out into the cold, that'd show him".

"Go ahead," Harry shot across the room as his feet took up pacing again, a hand rising to brush some more ashes from his hair. "Do me a favour why don't you? Do you think I actually want to be here?" he demanded, faltering as his Aunt and Uncle both made indignant noises at his question. "If I could, I wouldn't have come back here at all! But no, I'm stuck here, because if I were to leave then the blood wards would fall. And we can't have that now can we?" he shouted.

"Blood what? You're doing what with my blood?" Vernon began, drawing himself up to begin ranting again.

"Your blood? What in Merlin's name would I want with your blood?" Harry countered with a glare. "It's her blood that's affected here, not yours," he explained, gesturing at his Aunt. "As long as she and I both live under this roof, there's a ward – a protection – against dark wizards and people who want to hurt us. And trust me, I would have left years ago, leaving this little ward to fall, but apparently people would actually want to come after you because of me".

"We're in danger because of you?"

"Oh yeah," Harry agreed quickly, letting the fiery anger burning at his fingertips run free. "So please, throw me out! That way, I can wash my hands of you, and then when more dementors show up to suck out your souls I can just skip off into the sunset whistling without an ounce of guilt!"

"Dementoids? What the ruddy hell are dementoids?" Vernon snarled suspiciously, looking both terrified of the idea of losing Harry's protection and joyful of the idea of losing Harry.

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," Aunt Petunia corrected absently, the woman quickly clapping her hands over her mouth in horror, with Vernon looking at her as if she'd said the most foulest swear word imaginable to man. "I heard that… wretched boy telling her about them," She defended quickly, "Then she warned me about then, told me if I ever felt like that I should run and never look back".

"She tried to save your life, and you can't even use her name," Harry mused out loud, smirking at his Aunt as she flinched at his words.

"These… these things exist then?" Vernon asked nervously, ignoring the way Harry had claimed so the entire night and instead turning to his wife – even if he stood at a distance and eyed her like she was sick. "These Dementy-whasists are real?"

When Petunia nodded, Vernon seemed to wilt in on himself, looking desperately between them as if he were hoping that someone would shout out 'April Fools!' or something.

"Well," Harry declared, clapping his hands and making his Aunt and Uncle flinch, "Not that it hasn't been lovely having this little family chat, but I absolutely hate all of you and would rather die than remain in your presence any longer".

It seemed the dementors weren't the only things to go up in flames… his patience and resistance to his relatives' usual crap seemed to have burned up as well.

"DON'T YOU-"

CRACK!

As Petunia let out a startled scream and Vernon flailed backwards, Harry felt his previous anger dying out rapidly as he stared at the owl laying stunned on the floor, a letter gently floating to the ground beside it. Well… nothing defused a potentially violent situation like a kamikaze owl flying straight into the wall, it seemed, because snapping his fingers and setting his Uncle on fire was the furthest thing on his mind right now.

The letter shuddering on the floor, Harry barely had time to recognise the 'M' branded on the front of the letter before it was rising up into the air and flying across the room towards him.

"Dear Mister Potter," a sickeningly sweet voice greeted, something about it making Harry want to go brush his teeth.

"The Ministry has received intelligence-" ("That would be a first," Harry was unable to prevent himself from muttering) "-that at six twenty-three this evening, you performed the Patronus Charm in the presence of a Muggle. As a clear violation, of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, you are hear-by expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry".

What?

"Hoping you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk".

As the letter fell lifeless to the ground, the gears in Harry's mind began turning immediately. He hadn't cast the Patronus Charm… in fact he'd purposely put his wand back in his pocket when he realised that he could use fire against the dementors way more efficiently. He'd put his wand away just so something like this wouldn't happen, and yet it had happened anyway.

"Justice…"

Eyes snapping up to stare at his smug looking Uncle, Harry couldn't help but snort. "I wouldn't use that word exactly," he corrected casually, hoping they couldn't hear the waver in his voice as he spoke. "I didn't use any magic against the dementors," he explained as Vernon blinked at him dumbly, "And if I didn't, then who is in the area that did? Then again, if I'm really the only wizard in the area," he continued as he came to a conclusion he really wished he hadn't, "Then that means that they sent this letter intentionally, because they knew that there would be dementors here. The only way to defeat the dementors is the Patronus Charm," he realised, beginning to pace again and ignoring his confused relatives, "So if I'm still alive to get the letter, then logically I had to have used the Patronus Charm to get away, which means…"

"What the rudding hell are you going on about boy?" Vernon exclaimed angrily, "Have you been expelled from that blasted place or not?"

"What I'm 'going on about', Uncle Vernon," Harry growled out slowly, his fingers tingling with heat, "Is that the Ministry of Magic just tried to kill me".

IGNITION

Okay so now we get into the different angle I mentioned last chapter, and in the next one Harry takes his first step in understanding his new 'gift' as well as his first step towards becoming the confident badass I do so love reading about. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and remember, bacon makes the world go round!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I don't own Harry Potter.

IGNITION