Ginny couldn't remember being as scared as she was when Harry faced down that dragon. The whole diary debacle had been terrifying, of course, but her emotions were all fragmented then due to the diary's dark influence and thus everything she felt seemed like it was coming from a long way off. This fear, however, was sharp and vivid. And, sure, as it turned out, Harry had walked out without a scratch on him, but he could have been killed! She could have been killed for that matter; she remembered Hermione's terrifying stories of how spectators had been killed in the past tournament.

It was an eye-opening experience. She'd never really seen danger up close before – at least, not that she could recall. She was unconscious throughout the battle in the Chamber. But standing so close to a huge fire-breathing dragon…it really hammered home for her just how insanely dangerous things were for Harry. If she had the slightest amount of doubt Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire, it evaporated in that moment. Everyone else was starting to have their own doubts about him putting his name in, though Harry's continuing insistence he had put his name in was blunting it.

The whole dragon incident – and the other three contestants facing down their dragons – seemed to be completely eclipsed in everyone's minds by the unfathomable news that Harry had dedicated his victory to Malfoy. (Draco? Nah, they weren't there yet.) Ginny knew Harry had been spending more time with Malfoy, and everyone said they went to Hogsmeade together, but the idea just seemed so bizarre. Yet it was hard to get more blatant a confirmation that there was at least an interest between the two of them than Harry flat out using an archaic but highly romantic courting custom such as victory dedication. It was like something out of King Arthur's time.

The power couple – even if they weren't officially a couple yet – seemed to have won over most everyone. Ginny's peers kept on raving about how romantic the two of them were, and how they wished their boyfriends (or girlfriends) would do a gesture half as romantic. Ginny really didn't know what to make of it. On the one hand, she was very happy Harry was happy – and he was really happy; it was blatantly obvious. On the other hand, it was Malfoy, who made it his personal mission to make Harry's life miserable for two years straight. And whose father was a Death Eater in the eyes of everything but the law.

To make matters worse, Molly's harassment of Ginny only seemed to intensify and her hatred of Malfoy seemed absolute. Molly's Howlers now included diatribes about how it was her duty to "bring Harry back to the light" and how Slytherins like Malfoy were all "automatically evil and had to be purged from existence." Which, you know, sounded like pretty evil talk to Ginny.

Ginny had really tried her best to ignore the Howlers, but they continued to wear at her, beat her down day after day. They haunted her dreams now and consumed her thoughts during the day. If Molly had always been like this, it would have been easier to stomach. But before she went to Hogwarts, she had been the sweetest, most loving mother in the whole world. The homophobia also came out of left field. One day, maybe when Ginny was around seven, they were in Diagon Alley and Ginny had asked why two men were kissing. Molly had merely responded that they loved each other, like Molly and Arthur loved each other. And that had been the end of that. Until now. Until she'd turned into practically a Death Eater herself.

Ginny could see where Charlie was coming from with his theory Molly had been mentally influenced somehow, but for the life of her, she couldn't tell how. She and Luna and…had there been a third person? Well, either way, there had definitely been Ginny and Luna and the three – two of them had spent an afternoon in Hogwarts' library reading up on spells that could change her so emphatically.

The research had been mostly fruitless. Luna had thought she'd stumbled upon the answer when she read an account of a long-range possession spell that basically gave the caster remote control over a body. It had long been favored by Dark Lords, including Harpo the Foul and Grindelwald (though You Know Who had never used it), but it had considerable drawbacks. For one thing, it was impossible to use the spell and do something else at the same time, which made it near useless for long term usage. For another thing, it required a considerable amount of power, power that one just simply would not expend to ensnare Molly. It was possible, in other words, but not remotely probable.

Still, it had been a lovely afternoon with just the two of them…probably…and Ginny got plenty of chances to look at that gorgeous face of Luna's so the day hadn't been anything close to a total loss.

The only thing to be done, it would seem, was wait for Bill to return from Turkmenistan and there was no telling when that would happen. When things got very bad for Ginny, she sometimes wondered if it ever would.

"It's not right for a pretty girl to be so down in the dumps," Luna said, and Ginny had been so lost in thought that she let out a yelp as she looked into the radiant eyes of her crush. Ginny had found that sitting at the Ravenclaw table confused the Howlers. It was a shame to give up sitting with her friends, but sitting with her crush was a definite win, and even if it wasn't, getting away from at least some of the Howlers was totally worth it.

Ginny looked around to see who the pretty girl in the dumps in question was before realizing with a gasp that it was her. "Well, I'm not…"

"Not pretty?" Luna said, her voice dangerously low. "Who, pray tell, has been telling you such lies? You just give me their names and I'll take care of them."

Ginny could feel her cheeks flushing. Oh, Merlin, it was just like during that summer before her first year with Harry, but so much worse because this was a real crush. She just thanked her lucky stars there was no butter tray nearby for her to stick her elbow into. "I…uh…"

Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately as they case may be, the perfect distraction soon arrived when the Daily Prophet delivery arrived. The article on the front page provoked loud gasps from nearly everyone in the Great Hall, and with very good reason: it was an exposé about the abuse Harry had suffered as a youth. Complete with photographs of an unpleasant woman who must have been Harry's aunt and a cupboard under the stairs with the words "Harry's room" carved into the wood.

Harry's face was meticulously blank, but not surprised. He had seen this coming. Malfoy practically ran over to the Gryffindor table and after a few moments of cajoling, practically dragged Harry out of the room. Ginny cast her eyes at the staff table. McGonagall was nearly doubled over with what looked like a headache. Dumbledore had her led out of the room by Madam Pomfrey. His face was filled with fury, but there was something…off about it. Ginny couldn't tell what. The other staff members looked stunned and dismayed. Even Snape looked shocked.

Ginny quickly read through the article. Though some of it was clearly an exaggeration or a flat out lie, it was her best guess that most of it was accurate. Skeeter had seemed to interview both the Dursleys as well as neighbors, disguised as a Muggle journalist. The picture was not a flattering one. The Dursleys systematically spread a campaign of lies about their supposedly delinquent nephew to the point where anyone who was suspicious would have to confront both their own prejudices and everyone else around them, which, understandably, no one was willing to do. It was sickening to read about such things happening to a friend.

"She shouldn't have done this," an angry voice called out and Ginny turned to see an unfamiliar Slytherin girl next to her. Maybe Ginny, a Gryffindor, shouldn't have been shocked to see her at the Ravenclaw table, but she was. "We had an agreement! She was supposed to run this by us…"

"Yes, we need to have a little chat with Miss Skeeter," Luna agreed, her voice cold. "It won't be a very pleasant chat for her…" It was probably wrong of Ginny to think Luna sounded hot when she said things like that, was it?

"Well, I think I need to go over there and see if there's anything I can do," Ginny said, pointing at the Gryffindor table.

Luna nodded. "Yes, of course."

Ginny walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Harry's friends were looking shellshocked. "Is it true?" she said softly.

Hermione looked over to Ron, but he didn't seem entirely capable of speech at that moment. "I'm afraid so," she said, her fists clenched. "Not all of it – Harry wasn't whipped, for example. But enough of it's true for it to be…very, very bad. And the cupboard…yes, that part's true."

"Bars," Ron managed to choke out, still looking like a deer caught in a Lumos spell.

Hermione groaned. "I thought they were exaggerating! We all did! It's what they do!"

"Not about this," Fred snarled from farther down the table, looking extremely offended.

Hermione nodded. "The summer after Harry's first year, the Dursleys locked him in a room, put bars on it, barely even fed him…it was truly awful. And to think, I didn't…I didn't believe it until now…" She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Oh my God, I must be the worst friend in the entire world…"

Ginny shook her head. "You're a good friend, Hermione. You've helped me and you've helped Harry. Blaming anyone but the Dursleys isn't going to help Harry. He needs to be our top priority."

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall opened and Harry and Draco returned. Harry had a furious, defiant look on his face, but it didn't take a genius to see it was just a mask. Ginny wondered for an instant if it might be safer to take her breakfast somewhere else, but then she dismissed the idea. Doing so would be tantamount to abandoning her friend, and Ginny would never do that.

Dumbledore suddenly emerged from the staff table and hurried over to Harry, a glint in his overwhelmingly twinkling eyes that Ginny didn't like one bit. "Harry, dear child, what would possess you to tell such awful fibs?" he said, his voice carrying through the Great Hall to the point where everyone could hear every single word.

Harry's face quivered for an instant, betrayal echoing through his expression, before it returned to its previous mask. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, sir."

"Harry, your relatives have done so much for you –"

"I think you mean to me."

" – and you repay them with half-truths and outright fabrications," Dumbledore finished as if Harry had not even said a word. "I think you will make a public apology now, my boy."

Harry jerkily moved to the center of the room like he was a puppet on strings and Ginny suddenly felt nauseous. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the way he was moving. It reminded her of how she would move when she was being controlled by Tom.

"I'm sorry…" Harry muttered, and then something seemed to snap within him. "I'm sorry for thinking I could ever get a fair shake here in this stupid place! I'm sorry for thinking the staff at Hogwarts ever gave a shit about the welfare of anyone, let alone me! I'm sorry you're all such idiots!" He grabbed the nearest newspaper. "This picture is the truth!" he shouted, pointing at the picture of his cupboard. "This was my room for nine years!"

He tried to say something else, but Dumbledore had his wand out, impeding him from speaking. "Harry, that's enough. Clearly the stress of the tournament has you overwrought and you are confusing fiction with reality. Why, I've personally made sure you're safe in that house. One of my operatives has been watching over you."

Something clicked behind Harry's eyes. He obviously knew who the operative in the question was. "In fact, you have me to thank for the loving home environment you've been experiencing. It was I who left you with them. Would that we all had such wonderful guardians as Vernon and Petunia Dursley!"

Dumbledore waved his wand and gave a beneficent smile. "Now, what do you have to say to that?"

There was dead silence in the room for over a minute. "Go fuck yourself," Harry said eventually, his voice ice cold, and then he walked out of the Great Hall without another word.

Severus was seriously starting to wonder if Dumbledore was all there mentally. For more than a decade, he'd served the manipulative old bastard with as much loyalty as he was capable of (which was not very much), and he'd always trusted that he had some sort of plan. That was not to say Severus believed the plan was a good thing or that it would ultimately work, but until now, he'd never had any doubt as to its existence. Doubts about what the hell it was, absolutely. But he'd never doubted about whether Dumbledore actually had one.

But now…now he wasn't nearly so sure. Was it possible Dumbledore was just doing things randomly? Was he setting himself up to fail? Had old age and too many dark curses finally taken its toll? There were too many unknowns and Severus despised unknowns. Not too many people knew it, but Severus had nearly been placed in Ravenclaw, and though he would never admit it to another living soul, he felt he would have been much happier in that house. His inner Ravenclaw demanded some sort of logic be applied to Dumbledore's actions.

Dumbledore's recent decisions had been nothing short of bewilderingly, mindbogglingly idiotic. His obsession with keeping Potter at the Dursleys was bizarre and impractical. What was so important about them? There were other guardians who could look after Potter. If Dumbledore's goal was to make Potter miserable, Severus was more than willing to rise to the occasion. If he was Potter's guardian, the boy would be begging for death within days. Perhaps hours if he really made an effort.

It was as plain as the nose on Severus's face (which was pretty darn plain) that it was simply impracticable to continue to keep Potter at the Dursleys. They had been exposed as child abusers publicly. The threshold had been crossed; there was no going back. If Potter was sent back there, everything Dumbledore had worked for would fall down like a house of cards. And that was supposing they evaded the active investigation of child abuse being filed against them in the Muggle world, which was thoroughly unlikely.

The smart move would be to just move on and cut one's losses. The absolute worst thing to do would be to confront Harry regarding them and insist, despite both Potter's word and the massive pile of evidence, that the Dursleys were loving guardians. Yet despite all logic and reason and Severus's repeated telepathic begging for Dumbledore to stand down, Dumbledore did just that, and in the Great Hall in front of everyone no less. It was a ridiculously incriminating conversation, yet this time around, Dumbledore hadn't Obliviated everyone, despite the fact he easily had the power to do so.

At least the Dark Lord had a goal, as depraved as it was, and a clear plan to get there. He made mistakes due to his egocentrism and grandiosity, yes, and quite frequently too, but his thought pattern was comprehensible, albeit staggeringly evil. Severus knew what the Dark Lord wanted. He was not happy about it, not in the slightest, but he knew. But Dumbledore? His actions were opaque, a mystery, and Severus wished with all his heart he knew what the hell he wanted.

"What the hell do you want?" Severus demanded as soon as Dumbledore summoned him to his office after the ill-fated confrontation with Potter. "I mean, what are your motivations?"

"I intend to save the wizarding world," Dumbledore said serenely, an emotion that sounded almost like longing filling his voice. And there it was again, his use of the term wizarding world. That archaic term had gone out in the 1950s in favor of the gender inclusive magical world. "It is all for the greater good." Severus rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore waved his wand idly and Severus screamed in pain as his master cast a wordless, meticulously controlled Cruciatus curse on him. "I will not tolerate disrespect from you, my friend. I am the only one with the vision to lead the wizarding world into a golden age, a utopia the likes of which none of you can possibly envision! You think I am mad?"

"I confess I cannot see reason in your actions," Severus said cautiously.

Dumbledore smirked. "Because you, like everyone else and especially Harry, do not understand the nature of the game we are playing. You started from a false assumption, and thus your thought process is flawed. We are not playing the same game. He cannot win his game, for in winning, he loses. But enough cryptic hints. There is work to be done. Our first priority is getting rid of Robert Greengrass."

Severus blinked. He was not expecting that. He was sure he would be asked to do something to try to deal with the Dursleys. Perhaps kill Black to prevent him from taking custody. But what did Greengrass have to do with anything? "Killing him would not be easy," Severus warned him. "And it would raise questions…"

He winced, but Dumbledore just nodded amicably. "Perhaps you are right, Severus. We have some time to work with, but he must be slain before the next meeting of the governors. I'm sure you could devise some plan. The murder cannot be linked to this school in any way. Make it look like an accident, blame it on the Dark Lord, I care not, but no one can suspect he was killed because of Hogwarts."

Severus bowed his head submissively. "It will be done, sir."

"You are a truly loyal servant, Severus," Dumbledore said with a genuinely affectionate smile. "I sincerely hope you will be able to join me when the true work begins." He seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. "I need Polyjuice potion and hairs from Black. Buy the potion; do not brew it. I need it as soon as possible."

Severus could not help a slight smile. If he was going to be stuck doing the bidding of a madman, at least his enemies would suffer for it. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore helped him up the floor with a joviality that did not suggest at all he was responsible for putting him there in the first place. "Excellent! Take heart, my friend. Everything we are doing is for the…"

"Greater good, I know," Severus muttered under his breath as he trudged out of the room.

He desperately had a need for a drink. Fortunately, he didn't have a class for another hour, so he made a beeline for his office. But much to his dismay and horror, when he got there, there was someone waiting for him there.

"Hello, Severus," Narcissa Malfoy said with a smug grin. "Surprised to see me?"

"Given that you are trespassing in my office, yes, I daresay I am."

Narcissa laughed, not a malevolent cackle, but just the laughter of one who thought she had heard a good joke. "Oh, Severus, you're a riot. I apologize for the rude intrusion, but I am here about a matter that requires subtlety. I wanted to speak to my son without my beloved husband being aware of it." She said the word beloved with heavy sarcasm. Severus knew Narcissa resented being forced into an arranged marriage with Lucius, but she kept him alive mostly for Draco's sake now.

"You're asking for a favor," Severus pointed out. "After all, you're not allowed to be here without the headmaster's approval, which I highly doubt you have." Dumbledore avoided Narcissa like the plague; the crafty woman could spot a manipulator a mile away. "What's in it for me?"

"I recently managed to get my hands on the most fascinating tome written by Catherine Monvoisin," Narcissa said. Severus's eyes lit up at the thought of studying the writings of the famed seventeenth century French potioneer. "I could be persuaded to let you peruse it."

"You've got yourself a deal," Severus said without hesitation. Spending time with the sickeningly besotted Draco was a small price to pay to learn secrets previously thought lost to time.

As head of Slytherin, it was extremely simple to manufacture an excuse to bring Draco to his chambers and not attract any suspicion. No one, least of all Dumbledore, and certainly not Lucius, would suspect a thing.

"Mother?" Draco said, his eyes widening with fear. "Has something happened to Father?"

Narcissa shook her head. "No, Draco, have no fear. All is well. I wanted to discuss your relationship with Potter. Please take a seat." She gestured over to Severus's desk like it was her own. She sat down on Severus's usual seat, knowing very well it would agitate Severus, and gave a warm smile at Draco. Whatever else you could say about Narcissa, she was a loving mother, insofar as she was at all capable of emotion.

"I can't be held responsible for Potter's…sheer Gryffindor attitude," Draco said, sounding almost panicked. "Whatever delusions he may have…"

Narcissa held up a hand. "I believe there is a misunderstanding here. I do not disapprove of you developing a relationship with Harry. As I told you before, a joining between our families would be extremely beneficial. The scion of the Malfoy family with the Boy Who Lived, vanquisher of the Dark Lord…well, that would certainly do our family's reputation good. Our business considerations would prosper. We would be able to make inroads into areas where we were persona non grata before. With regards to an heir, though blood adoption has long been discouraged by the family, the advantages may outweigh the disadvantages in this case."

Ah, there was the Narcissa Severus remembered. Coldly logical and practical to a fault, to the exclusion of all other issues, including prejudice, bigotry, and people's emotions. Everything was a matter of exigency, even love.

"So what are your true feelings for the Potter boy, Draco? And be honest."

Draco was silent for quite some time. "I think I might be in love with him," he confessed. "And I think he loves me." Oh, God. This was going to be just the most asinine thing Severus had ever been forced to sit through. It wasn't fair! Where was this love for Slytherins a generation ago?

"How sweet," Narcissa said, and Severus was surprised to find the statement only mildly sarcastic. It would seem Narcissa was capable of acting like a normal human being occasionally, albeit only around her son. "Will you start courting each other soon?"

"We've made plans," Draco said, his expression and voice eager. "It should be any day now. We went on a pre-date and found ourselves most compatible. He has strength and power, and he can be surprisingly smart and cunning when he puts his mind to it. And the way he took down the dragon without casting a spell, without raising a hand…it was phenomenal, mother." This was just nauseating.

Narcissa smiled. It was unsettling because of how genuine it was. "Oh, Draco, I'm so happy for you. If there's anything you need from me, you need only have to ask." She sighed. "Now with regards to your father…" Draco winced. "I would like you to avoid corresponding with him or talking to him at all until Yule. I will deal with him."

"You'll deal with him or you'll deal with him?" Draco asked.

Narcissa tilted her head thoughtfully. "We will see. I know how fond of him you are. I would not deal with him unless I deemed it to be necessary for your welfare."

"Would you like to meet with Harry?" Draco asked eagerly.

Severus fervently hoped Narcissa would say no. He did not believe he would be able to restrain himself from saying something rude if Potter and Draco were in the same room with him, and he desperately wanted to read from that tome. Narcissa looked at him with a smirk and she must have taken pity on him because she shook her head. "I intend to make arrangements for us to meet during the Yule break. I am thinking we will holiday at our vacation home in Monaco. Your father, of course, will not be there."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, mother."

Narcissa stood up. "Oh, and Draco?" Draco looked over to her. "Do not think this is a license to indulge your proclivities. If this relationship falls through, a suitable wife for you will be found."

Draco was silent for a while. "Yes, mother." Narcissa snapped her fingers and a house elf Severus didn't recognize appeared. The house elf grabbed onto Narcissa's arm and the two of them were gone. So that was how she managed to get there. Severus made a mental note to try to have his office shielded against house elves. Though that was probably going to be an exercise in futility.

"Oh, I can't believe it!" Draco said with a huge grin on his face. "Mother actually approves of Harry! We're going to get married and we're going to adopt children and they'll be Slytherins, because obviously Slytherin is the best house and Harry is the exception that proves the rule and –"

"Draco?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get the hell out of my office."

Dudley Dursley had never been the world's most observant of individuals. Or intelligent. Or…well, actually, if we were going to list adjectives, we could be here all day. The point was, Dudley was not usually aware of what was going on around him unless it involved food, girls, or hurting people. He had no problem with this and no desire to change. After all, as his father had amply proved, you could go very far in life with a complete apathy towards other people's feelings. But even Dudley could tell something was wrong with his parents, and when Dudley could figure out something, it must have been very, very bad.

It had started back when they had abruptly announced they were moving to Canada out of absolutely nowhere. Dudley had employed his usual methods of persuasion (read: whining and throwing a tantrum), but for once, his parents were utterly unmoved. They were adamant that the sooner they got out of the country, the better. And yet, the very next morning, they didn't bring it up at all. It was business as usual. When Dudley had brought it up, they had no clue what he was talking about. It was as if they had forgotten…or if someone had made them forget.

Even one not gifted in the intellectual arts such as Dudley could conclude that the dreaded magic was responsible. Dudley did his level best to ignore the existence of magic in general and his cousin specifically during the school year. Magic terrified him. It had brought him nothing but pain, giving him a tail and extending his tongue. If he ended up having a child who was magical, he wouldn't bother locking him up in a cupboard; he'd put him in an orphanage and be done with it. Magic was best avoided at all costs.

Yet forgetting the urge to move out of the country didn't seem to make the Dursleys forget the incident that had incited the original need in the first place. Mum and Dad kept on talking in hushed whispers and Dudley had heard magic mentioned more than once as well as Harry. They were more worried and panicked than Dudley had ever seen them. Did Harry snap? Was he out for revenge? Was he sending his serial killer godfather after them?!

Whatever it was, it was clear Dudley's parents did not want to talk about it. At all. Mum actually yelled at him when she tried to ask, which she only did once before when Dudley had referred to Mum's sister as Aunt Lily. It was just wrong. Harry got yelled at, not him. That was what Harry was for. But without Harry around, it would seem Dudley was going to become a target of his parents' anger.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but really wasn't too many days, Mum and Dad sat Dudley down with nervous smiles. "Dudley, dear, there may be some people here from the government soon," Mum said, her voice sounding like she was nearing a nervous breakdown. "They have some questions about your cousin and the way we…treated him."

"Oh," Dudley said softly. In the back of his mind, he knew – he had always known – that what his parents had done to Harry was wrong. But he had never said anything, always pushed down that voice, because if they could do it to Harry, what if they did it to Dudley next? Dudley's worst nightmares weren't about his tail being permanent; they were of him getting a Hogwarts letter and his parents calling him a freak.

Dad nodded his head jerkily. "Now just remember, Harry always lived in your second bedroom. At no time at all did he live in the cupboard. Just…tell them what they need to hear, okay?" He looked like he was about to throw up.

"Okay, Dad," Dudley said slowly. "I'll do my best."

"Oh, of course you will, my precious boy," Mum simpered. "We'll clear up this misunderstanding soon enough. Everything will be perfectly fine…isn't – isn't that right, Vernon?"

Dad nodded, not looking remotely confident. "Yes, of course, Pet. It'll…all be fine." It didn't sound all that fine to Dudley, but as dumb as he was, even he knew not to push Dad on this matter. He would choose to believe Dad instead.

The woman the government sent by was named Cheryl and she was a nice lady. Dudley could see why she was so good at her job. She had a way of just putting you at ease. Like a mum. Maybe she was more like a mum than his actual mum, though Dudley quickly put that treasonous thought in the bin where it belonged.

Cheryl asked Dudley questions about how Harry was treated gently and calmly, but she did not give up and she did not stop asking questions. Dudley broke after at least a half hour of continuous questioning and confessed that Harry really did sleep in the cupboard under the stairs.

Mum let out a panicked gasp. "Dudley!" She gave a nervous laugh towards Cheryl. "You must forgive my son. He's at that age where he's rebelling against his parents. Telling tall tales just to get us in trouble."

"I'm sorry, Miss Cheryl, but it's true," Dudley said quietly. "I hear people go to jail when they lie to your lot and I don't want to go to jail."

"No one's going to send you to jail," Cheryl promised. "Not you, anyway…" she added.

Dudley cringed. "But I don't want to get my mum and dad in trouble either. I don't want no one to get hurt. Can't we just forget about all this? Harry's in his school all year – we only have to see him in the summers."

Dad's face was turning red and it was only the presence of Cheryl which was preventing him from hurting someone. "Now you see here –"

"No, you see here!" Cheryl shouted and Dad was completely taken aback that someone, least of all a woman, talked that way to his face. "It's disgraceful how you've treated Harry! But what's even more disgraceful was that it somehow evaded our notice for so long! I can assure you, there will be a full investigation, and in no way will Mr. Potter be returning to your house ever again!"

Mum let out a shrill laugh. "Oh, if only! But they won't let you! We'll never be rid of him! NEVER!"

"Who are you talking about, Mrs. Dursley?"

Before Mum could open her mouth again, there was a thunderous smashing sound and the front door was blown off its hinges. A man in clothes that were no better than rags stormed into the house. His hair was long and wild, his eyes had some weird twinkle to them, and he looked like he had emerged straight from hell. Dudley gulped. There was only one man this could be: the serial killer Sirius Black.

Black pointed a stick that had to be a wand at Cheryl, who stared at him, but then he smirked and lowered the wand. "Get out before I gut you like a pig. But then you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Dud? Oink, oink." He winked at Dudley.

"At least let me take the child," Cheryl begged.

"The offer expires in ten seconds," Black said in a sing song voice. "One. Two. Nine!" Cheryl scurried out of the door, looking horrified and appalled at herself. Dudley was relieved, though. She would no doubt return with the police…though what could they do against an insane serial killer?

"I won't apologize," Mum said, her head held up high. "I will never apologize."

"I'm not here for your apology, Petunia," Black said in a much colder, even voice than before. It had an accent of some sort, but Dudley was rubbish at distinguishing accents. "I'm simply here to get rid of you all." Dudley went cold. Was he truly going to die? It couldn't be. Being murdered happened to people like…like his aunt. Shit.

Mum's mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "You're not Black. Who are you?"

Black pointed his wand at Dad and said, "Imperio." A glazed look formed on Dad's face and Black moved the wand like he was conducting an orchestra. Dad immediately lunged at Mum and wrapped his hands around his neck. Dudley tried to look away, but Black magically forced him to stand still and he could do nothing but watch as Mum, screaming in agony, was strangled to death by her own husband. She screamed and screamed and then the screaming stopped and her breathing stopped and her life stopped.

And Dad was smiling. He didn't resist at all. He enjoyed it.

"And now you," Black said. "Given what I've seen in your cousin's mind, I have a bit of a special fate for you, Dudley."

Black flicked the wand and Dad grabbed Dudley by the arms. "Dad, please stop!" Dudley said, the power of speech returned to him, not that it was doing him any good. "Fight it! Don't do it! I don't want to die! I want to live!"

Was this what Harry felt when Dudley was tormenting him? Was this what Dudley deserved? No. Surely not. Harry wouldn't want this to happen. He was a sweet boy…someone who, in a sudden flash of horrific insight, had never deserved anything Dudley had done to him. Dudley yearned to say he was sorry, to make up for it somehow. But he couldn't. Because he was going to die. His father was going to kill him.

Dad dragged him to the bathroom. Dudley kicked and screamed and fought and he didn't come any close to throwing off Dad's grip. He could see Black's hungry look in the background. He was enjoying himself. His eyes were twinkling brighter and brighter with every second that seemed to pass.

"PLEASE!" Dudley begged, but Dad stuffed his head down a toilet. Dudley gagged on the disgusting toilet water and horror filled him as Dad just did not stop. Not for one single solitary second. The water filled his lungs and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He was going to die! He was only fifteen and he was going to die.

The only light in the bathroom was from the twinkling eyes of Black, or whoever was pretending to be him. The light flickered eerily at the corner of Dudley's vision. His fading vision.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet first day at Stonewall. Want to come upstairs and practice."

"No thanks. The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick."

I deserve this, Dudley realized, the thought so distant through the fear and the panic and the pain and the water, and then he died.