Chapter 1
Number Four Privet Drive
Dust sprayed onto Harry Potter's face as footsteps thundered down the landing. He stirred and thrust a pillow over his face, hoping desperately to return to his dream. An engine had been roaring in his ears and cool night air had whipped into his face as he soared over London. The city glinted beneath him as he passed over the clouds. Flight came with an inexpressible sense of freedom that intoxicated the senses.
Already, Harry could feel that happiness ebbing out of him. Children's voices echoed out of the kitchen and the sound brought him further and further back to reality. Harry groaned and rose slowly off his cot. The cupboard had a low ceiling, but Harry avoided hitting his head without difficulty. He stretched his cramped legs and reached for his glasses on the sole piece of furniture that fit with his cot.
Sight did nothing to improve his mood. The cupboard was dank and dusty. Cobwebs littered the ceiling no matter how many times Harry cleaned it. His throat was dry from a night of inhaling dust and he knew Lisa would scold him for sleeping down there without his sleep apnea mask. Harry had not been able to convince his wife that whenever he slept beneath the stairs he did not experience his usual restless symptoms. Perhaps, she would be offended at the notion that he slept so fitfully in their marriage bed.
Harry's knees cracked as he stood bent over and cracked open the cupboard door. His sons' voices drifted past him like a bucket of ice water. They were fighting again and John's shrill screams indicated that Roy had done something to greatly offend him. Harry sighed and took a deep breath before marching into the scene.
"Morning boys," he yawned, trying to ignore John's red and tear streaked face.
John was seven years old and struggling to transition to boyhood. He was still rather plump (though not nearly as round as Duddly used to be, to Harry's great relief) and Lisa insisted on cutting his hair and dressing him like a toddler. Harry had elected not to die on that hill. He understood why Lisa resisted John's growth so much. The two of them could not have another child and that had not been by choice. Lisa wept when the doctor explained that she could not have a third C-section and Harry had done a fine job of looking despondent as well. In truth, however, Harry had welcomed the news. Child rearing was not his specialty.
"What's wrong little guy?" Harry asked, rubbing John's hair and smiling. He was not shocked when John pointed at his older brother. Roy had small mean eyes and ruddy red hair. His pale face was dotted with freckles. Unlike his brother, there was no use in trying to shape Roy's hair. Like Harry's, it refused to head a comb's order and was thus perpetually messy. His eyes were a deep green and Harry was tired of hearing how much they looked alike
"What did you do to your brother?" Harry snapped. His tone changed noticeably and that was necessary to deal with Roy. If Harry gave him an inch, the eleven year old took a mile.
"Nothing," Roy insisted. "He's just being a baby."
Harry frowned and indicated the bowl of cereal in front of Roy. "Did you pour a bowl for your brother?"
"Why should I? I'm not his mum."
"It's called being a good big brother. Though I don't suppose you would know anything about that." The last comment wasn't necessary and Roy's drop in demeanor told Harry he had hurt his son's feelings. He felt the familiar itch to apologize followed by the immediate recognition that Vernon would never have done that to him.
"That's all it is. Meanness has a way of running cycles. You were talked to like that so you assume it is the way a parent must address a child." Doctor Goldstone, Harry's therapist, always brought everything back around to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Harry's marital flatness? Because he saw the dry romance of Vernon and Petunia up close and personal for years. Harry's eating disorders? Because he witnessed Vernon force feed Duddly into obesity. Harry's passivity and other…nefarious faults? Because he had been run down and ignored for so long by the people who were supposed to care for him the most.
Doctor Goldstone never ran out of excuses to spoon into Harry's mouth. Their sessions became so repetitive Harry sometimes played a game where he would try and guess exactly what Goldstone would say to any prompting. These tests made Harry wonder why he still paid for the exuberate per hour sessions, but he realized it was probably because the predictable excuses were still better than the deep draughts of self loathing he poured for himself.
Harry poured John a bowl and sat at the table. Roy was cowed and the family ate in familiar, stiff silence. For his part, Harry enjoyed a simple breakfast of a cup of coffee. At forty, Harry only weighed fifty two kilograms. He was as narrow as a rail with a thin lined face and graying shaggy black hair. Harry had never managed to grow a real beard and only a shadow of one outlined his forgetfully plain face. The only thing of note about his appearance was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.
Harry loathed the mark and had even attempted to have it surgically covered up. The strange thing was, when skin was stapled over it, the staples and stitches would always fall out. None of his doctors could ever provide an explanation as to why. Harry had then tried to have it tattooed over, but somehow the tattoo ink would spill and after only a few days, the scar would be as visible as ever.
After a few sips of his coffee, Harry heard Lisa's footsteps coming down the stairs. He quickly stood up and made it seem as if he was getting started on making her breakfast. "Why were you crying John?" Lisa asked as he shuffled into the kitchen.
John did not attempt to blame his brother this time. He knew better than to try those kinds of tricks on his mother. Lisa swept down over Roy and gave him a kiss on the cheek before doing the same to John. "You're always so fussy in the morning," She teased as she gave John's red cheek a little squeeze.
Lisa's smile faded as she walked over to Harry. His wife was a plain woman, slightly curvy when they had first met and after two children had softened to plump. She was only a few inches shorter than Harry and she had thin straw colored hair. Her eyes were narrow and perceptive and cut right through like an x-ray. "I'll get it." She said, as she scooted Harry aside so she could make herself eggs.
Harry allowed himself to be moved and took a long sip from his coffee. "Did you sleep alright?" Lisa asked with obvious restraint.
"Pretty okay, how about you?"
"Too cold." Lisa complained.
"I talked to the guy yesterday, he said he should be able to swing by and fix the heater sometime this week."
"Hooray." Lisa said with an eye roll. "I could really use the rest this week. Cases have been skyrocketing lately. I've no idea when I'll get home."
Harry said nothing. His own job had become much easier since the onset of the pandemic while Lisa's had devolved into a living hell. He had been so proud of her when she made the late choice to go back to school and get her nursing degree. The universe, on the other hand, must have thought it the perfect set up for a practical joke. Only two months after starting her first rotation, a global pandemic struck, locking Lisa in a mask and gloves all day, nearly everyday. Half a year of strain and stress had led to even more weight gain, something Harry did not dare point out. His wife's inflation had led to a corresponding drop in Harry's own weight. Something his doctor warned him he must take steps to rectify.
"I can order us a temporary heater," Harry suggested. "It can hold us over until we get ours fixed."
Lisa shooed away that suggestion. "It's just a waste of money. I'll survive." She turned back to Harry and her eyes narrowed. "You'll be okay with the kids right? My sister says she doesn't mind stopping by."
"I'll be fine, same as every other day."
"Alright." Lisa finished cooking her breakfast and returned to the table. Harry stood by the counter and watched his family eat. This was not an unfamiliar scene to him. Harry had stood by this very same counter and watched people eat, knowing he was not invited to sit beside them. When the Dursley's had lived here, they had relished any opportunity to exclude Harry. Every corner and nook in the house was a spot Harry knew he could sneak off to and practically disappear from view. He was so adept at this that sometimes Lisa would not notice him while they were in the same room together. Lisa called this habit of Harry's creepy and urged him to stop.
When the two boys finished their cereal, Lisa ordered them to go upstairs and change. "What for?" Roy protested. "It's not like we can go anywhere." He had a point, but Lisa still insisted that he make himself presentable.
"I hate these online classes." Lisa said for the thousandth time. "I don't think they really learn anything. They're going to be so far behind when school starts up again. I wish I had time to teach them myself."
Harry remained silent. He had considered home schooling the boys and had even gone to the trouble of making a tentative lesson plan. Harry meant to present his idea to Lisa, but when the time came, he never managed to pluck up the courage. One lesson Harry had learned long ago was that it was always better to not try than to fail. Colorful cat posters and inane people on the internet might say the opposite, but experience had taught Harry the truth.
Half an hour later, Lisa had showered and changed and Harry met her at the front door. "Stay safe," Harry said as he plucked a small kiss on her wife's lips. She left in a bustle, complaining about the amount of traffic her phone's map was showing her. Harry returned to the house and quickly checked to make sure Roy and John were in the study room. Lisa had retrofitted what had been Duddley's second room into a school room of sorts. There were two desks and computers set up for the boys.
Roy had his chin in his hands and was obviously not paying attention to the teacher on the webcam. Harry did not have high expectations for his eldest son. He seemed to get his mind from the more Dursley side of the family. He would probably grow up to be a simple company man like his great uncle and grandfather.
Harry left the boys to their work and went to his bedroom. Lisa's things dominated the space as Harry had never quite adjusted to having a room of his own. Ever since he was very young, Harry always felt more comfortable in confined spaces. In college, he had gotten along well in a dorm, but failed to adjust to apartment living. Too much space made him anxious, as Harry doubted he would ever be able to fill the void. He certainly did not have enough things, or interests to spread over the walls as decorations.
Harry did not have a favorite movie, or show, or book or sports team. There were a few bands he enjoyed but nothing that he felt spoke to him on a personal level. Perhaps it was that lack of particular passions that made him an adept writer. Harry's columns were the exact opposite of the feverish, hot take-filled, and slanderous pieces that dominated headlines, magazines and click bait articles. He was trusted to provide level headed assessments about various topics, ranging from news to sports.
Numerous publications reached out to him for his articles and while they were never best sellers or anything, his works stood out from among the throng of screaming absolutists. Today, Harry would be continuing his work about the intersection between Brexit and the current global pandemic. Talking heads from both sides were certain that leaving the EU either inflamed or shielded Britain from the disease. Harry strove to articulate a more nuanced opinion.
It was dry boring work, but Harry enjoyed it because he could rely on facts and never leaned upon his own opinion. Criticizing his work was almost impossible, because Harry put so little of his own personality into it. His job provided Harry with a little pay, but there were some notable benefits. The pandemic meant he never had to go into an office to work, no matter who had purchased his article, and Harry could have as much time off as he wanted, provided he still finished his work.
Not that Harry used his time off. When they had first married, Lisa and he had planned a long trip to the United States. They had intended to visit all the nation's important landmarks and spend a weekend in New York City. To save for their trip, the couple did not take a honeymoon and Harry had even done the unthinkable and rented Number Four Privet Drive from his aunt and uncle. Dudley had placed his parents in a nursing home at the first opportunity. The home wasn't cheap, and a slightly gone to seed, Uncle Vernon forgot that he hated Harry long enough to sign the papers over to him. It was a good deal and Lisa promised they would only live in the house long enough to save for their trip.
One drunken night later though, all those plans were forgotten. Harry always wore a condom even with Lisa on the pill. Ceranity made Harry feel less anxious in the bedroom, but after a night of drinking he forgot about double checking. Of course, a few weeks later Lisa started to feel ill and took a test without telling Harry. She had approached him timidly and showed him the positive test. Harry felt numb with shock.
He remembered sitting quietly as Lisa went on and on about how they were going to be okay and that they had saved enough to have the baby. They would need to raise the child here, and they would probably need to go ahead and buy the house outright, but overall they would make it through. Harry said nothing. His mind kept rolling over the possibility of abortion. It was so strange to him that after trying so hard not to get pregnant, Lisa would not consider the simplest solution.
Lisa never knew Harry's feelings until one day she saw the search history on their computer. Harry had been looking up abortion clinics and checking the various expenses. He knew it was tactless to leave that history up where he knew Lisa could easily find it, but perhaps that had been his subtle way of broaching the subject. Lisa had certainly taken it like that. The row that followed had been the worst of their marriage. Lisa cried hysterically as she begged Harry to give her a straight answer on whether he wanted the baby or not. Harry lied knowing that the truth was no more use to him. It didn't matter what he wanted. The baby would come and Harry's feelings would only leave him feeling bitter.
Harry read and typed for a few hours before rising to take a break. He frowned at what he had written so far and felt sure he would need to redo almost all of it. Brexit was a confusing subject and Harry wasn't sure he had the skill to carefully weave its narrative into the pandemic. His mind was clogged with numbers, charts and quotes and Harry needed to unwind. He checked on the boys again and saw that John was busy napping.
Roy was writing furiously on a notepad, but it wasn't complex figures or numbers. He had drawn out what appeared to be a comic panel and he was busy scribbling in a villain with a pale face and no nose. The sight made Harry's skin crawl and he sighed in disgust. He left the room and started pacing through the house.
Memories drifted in front of his eyes like ghosts, and Harry did his best to ignore them. Doctor Goldstone had suggested that Harry tell Lisa about how being back at number four tortured him. This place had always represented unhappiness and gloom in Harry's psyche. These were the stairs Dudley had once pushed him down. The front door was where Aunt Marge would come storming through to greet Dudley with kisses while shouting insults at Harry.
Every room preserved some echo of Harry's torment. Even though Harry had now lived here with a family of his own for twelve years, the memories of his childhood somehow felt more substantial. Whenever Harry tried to reflect on his life after leaving for college his memories were always covered in a strange haze. He remembered what happened, but his exact feelings and sensations were forgotten. That was not the case for his early childhood. Harry could vividly remember the time Aunt Marge had sent her dog Ripper on Harry and not called it off for hours. No haze prevented Harry from reflecting on his fear and hunger. His stomach growled as he watched the family eat through the window. Tears stung his face as he clung to the tree for support.
But it wasn't just the painful memories that made his childhood stand out. There were lots of strange ones as well. Things used to happen to Harry that he could never explain. Like that one time when he was running away from Dudley and his gang and somehow ended up on the roof of the school. Harry never said it aloud, but those strange occurrences made him feel slightly special.
The most dramatic example had been the time he had somehow sent a python on his cousin. Harry had been standing before a plane of solid glass when suddenly the glass vanished. Even more bizarrely, before the glass disappeared, Harry had been having a full blown conversation with the snake.
Uncle Vernon had beat him senseless for that infraction, but Harry didn't care about that. A childish spark of innocent hope had erupted in his heart, and Harry started to wonder if he was somebody important. He waited anxiously for the next display of his new found powers, but nothing really happened. Over time, Harry realized that the outbursts of the unexplained only occurred when he was angry or extremely stressed.
In an effort to coax the power out of himself, Harry started to have more and more outbursts. When his uncle would rage at him, Harry would close his eyes and try to will the power out. Once he managed to throw Uncle Vernon into a wall. Another time he made Aunt Petunia cut her hand with the knife she was using to cut onions. Harry started to become more and more certain of his gift, and certainty made him even more daring.
One day, when Dudlley and Harry had been left alone, Harry strode into his cousin's room and commented on how fat and piggish he thought Dudley was. Dudley snorted and came rushing at Harry. He wrapped his hands over Harry's throat and started to squeeze. Before he lost consciousness, Harry felt a sickening twist inside his stomach. Dudley's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped backward.
It took a while for Harry to notice the change in his cousin's behavior. Dudley had always been slow, but after Harry knocked him out, Dudley became confused easily and often had trouble finding the door knob when he reached for it. Uncle Vernon eventually became so concerned he took Dudley to the doctor to have his brain examined. Harry had laughed himself sick, but his laughter turned sour when his uncle returned. Harry listened at the door as Veron told Petunia in a somber voice that the doctors had found a lump inside Dudley's head.
Harry did not sleep for a week. He sat in his bed beneath the stairs and prayed and wished fervently for his cousin's recovery. A tense year followed, but in the end, the doctors were able to remove the lump and Dudley made a full recovery. Harry was relieved but also immensely scared. He vowed to never allow himself to get so worked up ever again.
In the years that followed, Harry never experienced any more of those seemingly magical events. He realized over time that he had not actually caused Dudley's tumor, nor had he actually made that glass disappear at the zoo. Harry did not need Dr. Goldstone to tell him that his mind was forcing exciting, but disconnected events together in an effort to make himself seem more special than he was. His assurance of his own special powers, no matter how fantastical, was only proof of just how desperate Harry was for some kind of recognition.
All the same, Harry had not told anyone about this, not even Lisa. That part of his past felt as though it belonged to another person, an obliviously naive person who did not understand the way the world really worked and preferred fantasy to the grim, painfully mundane nature of reality.
Reflecting on the past, took up much of Harry's day. He stalked through the house, wandering into one room and then the next, taking up one job and then passing on to another before he had finished. His mind was too cloudy to write, but his body felt too lifeless to work on any of the myriad of projects that needed finishing in the house. Occasionally, he popped in to see how the boys were doing at school, but these were infrequent and only done half heartedly.
As the clock approached three, Harry decided to go ahead and ask Lisa's sister if she wouldn't mind coming over to help with the kids. Sarah had recently divorced from her husband and was suddenly flushed with free time and a need for something to do. Harry thanked her for coming by and made up some excuse about a tight deadline.
The kids would have the run of the house now that they had been set loose from school. So Harry took a few things out of the fridge and retreated into his study. From beyond the door, he could hear Sarah playing with the kids and he felt a pang of guilt for not joining in. "Breaking the cycle won't be easy. It's hard, it takes a tremendous amount of effort. But it can be done." Dr. Goldstone's voice rang out in Harry's mind and he knew that she was talking about just such instances. Everytime he failed to interact with his sons he was allowing the uncle Vernon in him to win out. The guilt was strong, but it did not give him the energy he needed to act. Instead, Harry muffled out the sounds by putting on his noise canceling headphones.
For the next few hours, Harry made an effort to work on his article. However, very little of what he read passed beyond the barrier of haze that seemed to cover his mind. Every few minutes or so he would stop his work to mindlessly scroll on social media and see what other people were up to. Harry had not made very many friends in college, and those he did had long moved away. The faces of happy couples in exotic locations and smiling families dominated his timeline. Harry watched them with a building sense of detachment. Perhaps this kind of life would be available to his family. Lisa certainly deserved that, as did his boys. However, something within Harry knew that it would not be the case with him.
Perhaps she can get remarried. Lisa would struggle in the dating market, but there was still a chance that a nice, well adjusted man would be willing to take her and the kids in. Harry scrolled past all the photos and imagined them as a different family, with Lisa, the kids and some stranger who had stepped in to take Harry's place. He knew this kind of thinking was dangerous and unhealthy. Dr. Goldstone had warned him again and again about the negative effects of this kind of thinking. Yet it was difficult to stop when it felt as though the thoughts never actually stopped, they were always there, just beneath the surface of Harry's conscience.
At around seven thirty, Sarah had finally reached her breaking point. She knocked quietly at Harry's door and explained that she really needed to get home. Harry thanked her and then set about cleaning up the mess the boys had made. They continued in the game they had started with their aunt while Harry cleaned. One of his boys was pretending to be some kind of medieval sorcerer, and the other, a crusading knight.
"Stop, heathen, your magic cannot harm me with my shield of faith!" Roy blustered as he held up a cooking pan.
John raised up a tree branch he had brought from outside and slammed it onto the carpet. "Take this! My chain lighting!"
The boys started to make sound effects as the twin forces clashed in the center of the room. Harry smiled faintly and watched the display. Each of his son's faces were clenched as though they were straining with all their might. Their hands were outstretched as if a beam of invisible energy were emitting out of them. Harry's heart seemed to skip a beat. A sudden, and sweeping dread fell over him. He felt chills run down his back and his breath hitched. Time seemed to slow down around him. The pretend clash of forces was no longer invisible. Harry saw two pulsing beams of energy, one green, the other red, crashing against each other. At their center, there was a flashing green light. Harry heard a high pitched scream in his ear. It was a woman's scream.
"ENOUGH!" Harry's shout shattered the scene. His two sons stopped what they were doing and turned towards him. Harry's heart was racing. He gripped the kitchen counter with both hands, his knuckles turning white. "No more," He said slowly. "Both of you, go to your rooms, now."
Neither boy argued. They dropped their toys and went racing out of the kitchen. Harry stood by the counter for several minutes. It took him a long time to catch his breath and for his heart to return to normal. He finished cleaning up and then took a seat at the living room table.
Lisa did not get home until after ten. She stumbled through the door looking exhausted and completely bent out. Harry watched with a strange sense of detachment as she microwaved a bit of dinner. She sat across from him and quickly scarfed down her food. "How was your day?" He asked more out of duty than curiosity. Harry could predict with some accuracy what his wife was going to say. Lousy. Busy all day and a patient had the nerve to take a swipe at me. I can barely breathe in this mask and now Debra wants me to cover her shift for next weekend. But Roy has a football game that day and I-
"Fine," Lisa said. She did not take her eyes off of her food. "Sarah says you ended up calling and asking her to come over. You said you'd be fine. What changed?" Her tone was unnaturally sharp.
"I wasn't able to get as much work done as I thought. I just needed some extra help."
"Hmmm." Lisa took a final bite and wiped her mouth clean. It looked as though she was actively delaying having to look up and see Harry's face. "The boys are asleep?"
"I sent them to their rooms a few hours ago."
"But you didn't check on them?"
Harry shook his head. Lisa stormed out of the living room and Harry cringed as he heard her slam her dish into a still packed sink. She said nothing to Harry as she marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
After a few minutes, Harry roused himself and slowly walked up to the bedroom. He placed his glasses on the bathroom counter and began to wash his face. Harry went slowly as he knew he could not go down into his cupboard under the stairs until Lisa was through with him.
It took her almost twenty minutes to make sure the boys were asleep. Roy had gone to bed after being sent to his room, but John had stayed up playing with his toys. Lisa was in a foul mood by the time she got to the bedroom. She glared venomously at Harry as she swiftly changed out of her work clothes. "You know, just once I'd like to be able to come up and not have to play nurse for somebody else. Is there any reason you couldn't have seen John off to bed? Now it is going to be a nightmare to get him up in the morning and I already have enough on my plate as it is."
"I sent him to his room. He's old enough now to put himself to bed."
Lisa put a hand on her hip and her expression morphed into one of disbelief. "Really? That's what this is? This is you parenting him."
"Nobody ever had to put me to bed," Harry shot back. "He's got to learn at some point. You keep babying him, so you're going to have to keep doing it-"
"So now this is my fault!" Lisa's voice became almost incoherent when she raised it. She took two long strides towards Harry and jabbed her finger into his chest. "How dare you criticize how I parent. I'm constantly waiting for you to help me, but you just skulk around in your little corners." Lisa tried to continue, but it seemed as though she was too angry to even speak. She threw up her hands and screamed in frustration.
Harry watched as she paced around the room, unable to contain all the emotions that were brewing up inside her. He felt torn as to what to do. Part of him knew that it was his duty as the husband to go to her, to absorb the abuse and comfort his wife. The other half of him wanted to slip away, to vanish under a spell of invisibility. Yet he could not do that, so instead, Harry stood there conspicuously, present, but silent.
Tears started to run down Lisa's cheeks. "What do you want!" She screamed suddenly. "You won't even fight with me, do you even care?" She pointed at the door which led back towards John's room. "Do you even care that your son was awake? That he was scared that you yelled at him?"
Harry said nothing. He did not know what to say. What did he want? How could he explain to someone that all he wanted to do was disappear. Not that he wanted to escape from Lisa and his family, but that, in the long run, it would be better for them if he did so. "Say something!" Lisa insisted. "Please…"
Harry hung his head. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure to check next time."
"That isn't what this is about. I just want to know why…why wouldn't you want to check. That is your son Harry."
Harry nodded, but he couldn't think of a response. The energy seemed to drain from Lisa as she stared at him. She wiped away her tears and sat down upon the edge of the bed. "I don't know how long I can keep doing this. I love you Harry, but if you don't want to be here…the kids deserve better. They deserve to have a father who cares about them…and I…" Her voice broke and she started to cry into her hands.
"I do love you…" Harry said faintly. That was the truth. He knew it with the same certainty that he knew his own name. He loved his wife, but that did not seem to give him the power that he thought that it would.
Lisa shook her head. "Just go. Tonight was lousy. Maybe I just need some sleep."
Harry turned aside and walked meekly out of the room. He took the all too familiar steps down into his cupboard. Harry had to basically crawl onto the cot inside. He could not stretch his legs out fully so he laid with his knees near his chest. Harry closed the door and stared out into the darkness.
Sleep steadily overtook him and Harry dreamt of flying over London. Wind rushed against his face and he felt the roar of a huge engine beneath him. Harry looked down and saw that he was riding a flying motorcycle. He put both hands on the throttle and pushed it forward. He let out a scream of delight as he went zooming forward. Harry laughed as she spun in a series of spirals. Nothing matched the thrill of flying, it was the best feeling in the world. Suddenly, the engine petered out. Harry's stomach leapt into his throat as he plummeted down towards the earth. He raised his arms to protect himself but the impact never came.
Harry slid across the floor. His powerful muscular body allowed him to move rapidly over the threshold. He tasted something foul in the air. Harry stuck out his tongue and tasted it. Magic. A concealment charm hung over the residence. He could feel its power like a cold wind against his scaly body. The others would not be able to join him, at least not yet. He used his large head to press against the handle of the door. It was locked. No matter. Harry reared back and then lunged forward. His massive body hit the wood and the hinges broke. The door flung open and Harry slithered inside.
Here. He's here. Harry caught the scent and filled his nostrils with it. However, while doing so, he also caught the scent of three others. Family? Good, more for me. He slid towards the stairs and started to steadily climb them. Behind him, he heard footsteps. The others had broken the charm and had entered the house.
Once he was on the upperlanding, Harry began to sniff. He directed himself to one of the bedroom doors and pushed it open. Hidden in the darkness, Harry moved like a spector towards the bed. A woman slept with a bundle of blankets wrapped tightly around her. Harry's tongue reached out to taste the air. He could practically taste her blood filling his mouth. Yes, this isn't him. Expendable. He reared up until his face was only a few inches away from the woman's. His eyes rolled back as he thought of the pleasure to come. Suddenly, there was the sound of breaking glass from downstairs. Fools. Harry thought. He should have been ordered to come alone. He could have handled it himself.
The woman stirred. She adjusted herself slightly before gently opening her eyes. For a single instant she stared back at Harry. And then she screamed.
Lisa's scream penetrated every fabric of Harry's body. He squirmed in his bed, kicking the walls of the cupboard. Harry opened his eyes and yelled. A scorching, piercing pain erupted on his forehead. The pain was so intense, he became temporarily blind. Harry dropped to his side, hit the cupboard door and spilled out into the entryway. "Ahhhh!" Harry seized his forehead. He felt as if his skull was being pulled apart. However, he wasn't the only one screaming. From upstairs, he could hear Lisa yelling in pain. A second later, he heard John crying.
Harry staggered to his feet. Lisa's pain had temporarily driven out his own. He staggered towards the stairs, but before he could climb up, someone seized him by the shoulder. "There you are." Harry tried to turn around, but there was a flash of red light and he knew no more.
He awoke just as his head bumped into the top stair. Someone was dragging Harry towards the bedroom. He tried to identify his attacker, but all he could see were jet black robes. Unsure of what else he could do, Harry closed his eyes as tightly as he could while still being able to see.
He nearly blew his cover when he saw the blood. His bedroom was painted red from walls to ceiling. Lisa lay with her back to the bed, she was breathing faintly. Her clothes were doused with blood. Her hand covered a huge gash across her neck and she had two more on her arms. On the bed itself was a huge snake. It looked down at Harry and its tongue came out almost like a greeting. "Welcome Potter." Harry heard the voice inside his head.
"Who the hell is she?" The figure dragging Harry let him go and rounded on Lisa.
"Must be his wife," A woman's voice answered. A second dark robed figure entered the bedroom from behind Harry. Her face was veiled behind a mask of a white skull.
"Should we heal her?" The man asked.
"Can't, those bites are cursed."
"Damn it!" The man hissed. "I knew we shouldn't have brought this freaking beast, it can't think, it just bites everything."
"It doesn't matter. The woman is no use. We just need him." The woman indicated Harry by kicking him in the side. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out.
"Well let's get him and get out of here," The man insisted. "We only have a few minutes before the Order gets here."
"The Portkey is miles away. We won't get there by dragging him. Put him under the Imperius Curse and make him follow us."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the man draw something out of his cloak. He directed down at Harry. "Imperio!" There was a flash of white light and Harry was struck by the most profound sense of weightlessness. All the pain and anxiety left his body and Harry felt a contentedly stupid smile play across his face.
"Get up!" Barked a voice.
Righto. Harry heard his own voice say. He made to get up when another voice suddenly rang out in desperation. No. Why would we do that? That would blow our cover. The second voice was harsh and savage sounding. Harry wanted to ignore it and listen to the first voice. "Get up." It said again. A second time, Harry made to move. This time the second voice practically screamed in his ear. "No! You'll die if you do that. Don't move yet!" In an attempt to heed both voices at once, Harry made a sort of jerking movement. In a flash, the sense of weightlessness vanished and the pain of his body returned.
"He's still knocked out," Said the man.
"Out of the way," The woman snapped. She pushed her comrade aside and aimed another kick at Harry. CRACK! Something hit the woman in the face, knocking her mask ajar.
"Dad! Get up!" Roy had thrown his football at the lady, and had his lamp ready to fire in his other hand.
"No…!" Lisa screamed as she raised one hand in feeble protest. The man wheeled around and raised the stick he was holding.
"Avada Kedavra!" There was a flash of green light that hit Roy square in the chest. He staggered back into the wall and then crumpled into a heap.
"ROY!" Lisa screamed and the snake let out a loud hiss. It slithered off the bed and started to make its way over to Roy. "A feast, a royal feast." Harry heard the voice once again inside his head.
Harry balled his hands into fists. He knew he would only have one chance to move, once chance to save himself and his family. The woman readjusted her mask. "Filthy little vermin!" She turned towards Lisa and started to laugh. "Don't cry, you'll be joining him soon enough."
So he was dead then. The thought fell upon Harry like a thousand pound weight. His heart seemed to skip several beats. He did not know what the thing was in the man's hand, but whatever he had done, it had killed Roy. The woman crouched down beside Lisa and began to mock her sobs. The man was too busy watching the snake, clearly uneasy about what he had just done. Harry knew he would not get another chance. He leapt to his feet and seized the man's hand, ripping the stick out of his grasp. The struggle made the man fall back onto the floor, and Harry used that chance to turn around and aim the weapon at the snake. It hissed and prepared to lunge.
"Avada Kedavra!" A light burst out of the end of the stick and struck the snake in the face. It screamed and Harry was sprayed with blood. He fell backward and felt huge arms seized him around the middle. Harry fought like a wild animal. He kicked and scratched at his attacker, until he managed to sink his teeth into the man's arm. The man yelled and released Harry, who quickly got his feet to attack the woman.
"Expelliarmus!" The stick flew out of Harry's hand and landed outside the bedroom. The woman had drawn herself up to her full height. Her mask was slightly ajar, and the woman ripped it away. Sheets of curly gray hair fell down to the woman's shoulder. Her skin was gray and so emaciated it appeared to have been lazily stapled onto her skull. Horribly searching eyes were sunk into deep pits that were splotched with dark spots. "I cannot wait," She said, almost to herself. Her hand whipped back as she prepared to attack when suddenly she toppled backward. Lisa wrestled her to the ground, fighting and struggling until she was on top. A barrage of fists rained down until the woman's cheek bones shattered.
"No!" The man drew a silver knife from his robe and stormed towards Lisa. Harry tried to tackle him, but the man knocked him aside.
"SAVE HIM!" Lisa screamed as the man stabbed her in the gut.
Harry retreated backward on his hands and knees. Once he left the room, he turned and tried to run. He was a few inches away from the door to John's room when he heard a shout. "Petrificus Totalus!" Harry's hand went rigid and his entire body seized up. He fell backward back onto the carpet with his face facing upward. Harry couldn't move so much as an inch. A twisted, ugly face swam up into focus above him. His attacker had shaggy black hair and a heavily scarred mouth. One of his eyes was bulging out of his socket and was red with rage. "Is there someone else in there?" The man asked hoarsely. He gestured to the room Harry had just tried to enter. A cruel smile spread across his face. 'I'll let you watch me kill this one before we go. The Dark Lord won't mind."
Harry made a desperate attempt to move, but it was no use. The man laughed as he pushed open the door. "Come out. Come out." He said in a sing song voice. Harry heard John squeal and rush to his closet. The door slammed shut and the man let out another bark of laughter.
Doom. Doom. Doom. Doom. Suddenly, there was a rush of footsteps racing up the landing. Someone had just arrived at the top of the stairs. Harry could not see them, but he saw the hem of their gray cloak as they rushed into John's room. They were a series of flashing lights and the entire house seemed to shake. Harry heard the man roar in pain and then something heavy hit the floor.
Several silent seconds followed. Harry waited with his heart fixing to burst out of his chest. It took him a while to realize that he was no longer held down. He gently picked himself up and entered the room. John was standing in the center next to someone covered with a gray cloak. They whipped around and held up a light to Harry's face. "You're safe now," A male voice said. He came close and Harry saw a plain young man with intense eyes. He pushed his light up to Harry's forward and then let out a gasp.
"So it's true. You really are Harry Potter."
Harry said nothing. He pushed the man aside and knelt beside John. John trembled as he rushed forward to embrace his father. "We must leave here, now. You are still in danger." The man stuck out his hand and offered it to Harry. "Come with me, now."
Harry couldn't think of anything else to do. He stuck out his hand and as soon as their skin made contact, Harry felt himself being sucked into a narrow tube. The grim scene around him, as well as number four Privet drive vanished out of sight.
