Welcoming the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night. (Robert Frost)
1. Portobello Road
"This is boring! Nothing but moldy old stuff!" Dudley whined. "I want to go to the zoo!"
Petunia Dursley, along with her son Dudley and nephew Harry, were walking down Portobello Road, looking at the collection of items in the famous market. But Dudley wasn't happy.
"We will, Dudleydiddums, just as soon as I find a vase to replace the one that was a gift from your Aunt Marge. She's due for a visit and will notice it's missing."
"Just tell her the freak broke it." Dudley sent a malicious grin at Harry. It was Dudley who'd smashed the vase with one swing of his Smeltings stick, but naturally he had promptly blamed it on Harry.
Harry didn't bother to protest, since he knew his aunt was aware of what had happened and didn't care. He was used to being made the scapegoat for everything that went wrong in the Dursley household.
"I suppose we'll have to," Petunia sighed. "Come, sweetums, time to go to the zoo."
"The freak shouldn't come," sneered Dudley. "He'll spoil everything, like always!"
"We can't just leave him," began Petunia.
Dudley stomped his foot, and Harry could see he was working up to a tantrum.
Petunia looked alarmed, reading the signs. She twisted her long neck to glare at Harry. "Stay here, boy! And don't get in any trouble. Meet us at the top of the street at five o'clock, and you better not keep us waiting!"
She smiled at Dudley as she took his hand, and Harry watched stoically as they scurried away.
They were not the only ones in a hurry.
"Hermione! I have appointments this afternoon! Let's go!" A tall thin woman scowled at a girl with bushy brown hair and buck teeth.
"But I need to look at these books!" The girl was already clutching a stack of books that towered before her. She could hardly walk, but the woman made no move to help her, merely tapping her foot impatiently.
"Here now," the bookstall owner objected. "Need to total up those books, don't I?"
The woman thrust a fifty pound note at the man. "Here! That should do."
The bookseller grinned. "For that you can have every book I've got!"
"Oooh!" The girl paused, turning back.
"No!" The woman shouted. She dragged her protesting daughter away, hailed a cab, and practically shoved the girl inside.
The books spilled all over the floor of the cab, and Harry saw a slim, red volume tumble out onto the street.
"Oi!" Harry yelled. "Stop!"
But the cab drove off and rounded the corner, gone.
Harry stood in the street, still clutching the book.
One week earlier…
"Hold him!"
Gordon and Malcolm grabbed Harry's arms while Dennis sat on his legs. Dudley stood above them, clutching a shard of glass from a broken bottle.
His piggy little eyes glinted maliciously. "Keep his head still, Piers!"
"What're you going to do?" Piers was laughing, his hands clamped around Harry's head.
"I was going to cut his leg, but now…think I'll make that scar a little bigger!"
The sharp glass bit into Harry's scar; the excruciating pain made him scream. He felt as though his head was splitting wide open. Then the pain eased, and Harry lost consciousness.
"Ugh! What's that black gunk? It stinks!" Dennis looked nauseous.
"Maybe it's his brains oozing!" Gordon sounded excited.
"Lots of that slime coming out," said Malcolm uneasily. "Better stop, Dud."
"It's okay," Dudley said. "The freak always heals up quick." But he looked nervous. He flung the piece of glass into the bushes. "Leave him, we better get out of here."
The others let go of Harry…except for Piers, who seemed frozen in place.
"C'mon, Polkiss!" Dudley roared.
The gang took off running, practically dragging Piers Polkiss along with them.
It was dusk when Harry came to.
He expected to feel weak, but much to his surprise, he felt better than he ever had.
He looked around for his glasses, and found them irreparably smashed on the ground. He winced at the thought of what his relatives would say about that, but soon realized he could see very well without them. He touched his scar, but it didn't feel very sore and seemed to be healing already.
Dudley never mentioned the incident again, but the next day Harry heard Aunt Petunia telling Uncle Vernon that Piers Polkiss was quite unwell, and couldn't accompany Dudley to the zoo on his birthday.
Harry sighed; he would have enjoyed visiting the zoo, but Portobello Market was very interesting, even if he had no money to buy anything. He consoled himself with the thought that he'd at least acquired a new…well, a very old…book.
He seated himself on a low stone wall and opened the aged, cracked cover gingerly.
The Ritual Book of Edgar William Peverell
1414
Ritual of Displacement
Ritual of Deception
Ritual of Destruction
That was all, only three sheets of a thin parchment, each with one of the three rituals inscribed.
"Would have helped if this Edgar Peverell was clearer," grumbled Harry aloud. "Like, what does the Ritual of Displacement displace?"
Still, the directions did not seem that difficult, and Harry still had a couple of hours before the Dursleys would return…if they didn't forget him entirely, which they might well do!
He found a narrow alley, and slipped into a space behind some bins.
"Here we go," he grinned.
Two hours later, and Harry was wondering if he should just toss the book into one of the bins. He was certain he'd followed the ritual perfectly, yet it seemed to have no effect.
But he had so few possessions, it seemed wasteful to discard one just because he didn't know its purpose. He shrugged, slipped it into his pocket, and hurried towards the top of Portobello Road to wait for the Dursleys.
"So, you broke Marge's vase, you worthless freak?" Vernon Dursley's piggy eyes glared at Harry. "Maybe a few days without meals will teach you not to be so careless!"
Dudley snickered, grinning at his cousin.
Yeah, go ahead and laugh, you tub of lard, Harry thought viciously. I'd like to see you in my place!
"You can sit there and watch," Vernon sneered, as Aunt Petunia placed a platter of pork chops on the table.
Dudley, still smirking, helped himself to four.
But, as he lifted the fork to his mouth, his lips pressed together tightly.
Aunt Petunia noticed at once. "What's the matter, Dudders darling?"
Dudley sounded bewildered. "Dunno." He tried again; the same thing happened.
Vernon whipped around towards Harry. "This is your doing, freak! Stop if you know what's good for you!"
"I'm not doing anything, "Harry protested.
Vernon, enraged, pushed back his chair, and backhanded Harry across the face.
Harry, flinching away, realized a second later that the blow never landed.
Instead, Dudley was sprawled on the floor, a red mark across his face.
"Dudders!" Vernon roared.
Harry's eyes went from his howling cousin, to his appalled aunt, to his shocked uncle.
Harry started to smile.