The door opened. Uncle Vernon stood there with his briefcase in hand, not yet noticing Harry. He was cheerfully saying goodbye to Petunia before heading off to work.
Harry stiffened almost imperceptibly, knowing that in a moment, Vernon would realise who else was standing on the landing. Professor McGonagall, who was next to him, cleared her throat to get Uncle Vernon's attention before he unwittingly crashed into her with his rather substantial frame.
The look of utter surprise on his uncle's face was brief, quickly replaced by the typical expression that Harry's presence usually evoked in him. It wasn't too obvious, but Harry knew the barely concealed anger and hatred that lay beneath.
McGonagall didn't seem too offended that the man hadn't even looked her way. She cleared her throat again, this time more pointedly, to catch his attention. Vernon's gaze, to Harry's relief, shifted from him and finally settled on his head of house.
"Mr. Dursley, my name is Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. Vernon's face flushed a blotchy purple at the mention of magic, but Professor McGonagall pressed on as though she hadn't noticed. "There has been a misunderstanding involving your nephew, Mr. Potter, that has led to his temporary suspension from school. However, it will be resolved, and I assure you, there is no further cause for concern."
As she spoke, Harry saw the look of fury building in Vernon's face. His uncle didn't care in the slightest about who was at fault. He was simply livid that Harry had returned, disrupting his "perfect" family once again—a family that, of course, didn't include Harry.
Harry felt almost sorry for his professor wasting her breath trying to reassure Vernon. The idea that his uncle might care about his education was so absurd it was almost funny, though Harry held back the urge to laugh; he knew it would only make things worse.
Just then, Aunt Petunia appeared in the doorway, her expression sharp and displeased as her gaze fell on Harry.
"What's he doing here? We were told it would just be summers," she snapped, her voice shrill and getting higher with each word. "I told Dumbledore we didn't want him here any longer than necessary."
McGonagall's face flickered with mild confusion, as though she were trying to piece together why Harry's relatives would be so openly hostile to him. She cast Harry a questioning look, and he felt a wave of embarrassment that she had to witness the treatment his aunt and uncle so graciously reserved for him. He quickly interrupted, hoping to prevent his aunt's sharp words from escalating the situation further.
After what felt like an eternity, during which even McGonagall's face began to show signs of impatience, Harry managed to persuade his relatives to let them inside, with multiple reassurances on his part that it wouldn't be a long stay.
As McGonagall prepared to leave, she cast a look back at Harry, seeming troubled and somehow hesitant, as though reluctant to leave him with these Muggles.
Harry did his best to put on a strong, confident face, completely unlike how he felt inside, and he managed to convince her that he would be fine. At last, she nodded to herself.
"Well then, Mr. Potter, we shall see each other soon, I'm sure. I trust you'll keep me informed, should you need anything." She glanced back once more at Vernon and Petunia, her gaze sharp.
With that, she turned and walked towards the door. Each step took her further away from Harry, from safety, leaving him one step closer to being left alone with his "loving" family.
The sound of the door closing sent a heavy feeling plunging into Harry's heart. He kept staring at the door, unable to summon the courage to turn around and face his aunt and uncle.
But he didn't need to turn; Vernon saw to that, roughly grabbing his shoulder to spin him around.
"Listen to me, boy," Vernon growled, his face an alarming shade of purple. "How dare you come back here, imposing yourself on us again after everything we've done for you!"
Harry clenched his fists, refusing to look away.
"It was a mistake," he said quietly. "I won't be here long."
But Vernon had barely heard him, his anger boiling over. "Oh, a mistake, was it? A mistake! Just like everything else you and that lot do, I suppose? And now you come back here, expecting us to take you in!"
As he spoke, Vernon shook him so violently that Harry's shoulder, already injured—a wound Snape had left untreated—throbbed with pain, making Harry's vision flash white with agony.
Vernon continued with his angry tirade, but Harry couldn't make out the words anymore. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as he fought not to cry out.
Finally, Vernon released him with a violent shove, sending him crashing to the floor. His elbow struck the hard ground painfully, and the words began to regain meaning in his mind.
"Because of you, I'm late for work, you ungrateful little freak," Vernon spat. "But tonight… oh, tonight you'll see just how we deal with ingrates like you."
With one last venomous look, Vernon turned and stomped toward the door, grabbing his briefcase and storming out without another glance.
This left Harry alone with Aunt Petunia, who had remained silent throughout Vernon's tirade. Whether she was satisfied with what her husband had said or merely waiting for her turn to take it out on Harry, he couldn't tell.
What he did know was that Petunia was different from Vernon. While his uncle relied on brute force and physical abuse, his aunt was more insidious. She had a sharp tongue and knew how to wield words to wound Harry deeply.
He almost preferred the violence of his large uncle to the cruel words his aunt could deliver. He was used to physical abuse ,or as used to it as anyone could be, but his aunt had a way of targeting his weaknesses and doubts, digging right into them.
And there was the fact that Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister—the only living connection he had to her. Harry had always felt bitter that Lily's own sister didn't love him, especially knowing she was capable of love, as she clearly loved Dudley. It left Harry feeling undeserving, somehow.
As time went on, however, he'd begun to understand that he wasn't the one at fault. He was only a child; his aunt should have loved him, for heaven's sake. He hadn't done anything to deserve such hatred.
And, as always, that day it was Petunia's words that hurt him the most.
"You always have to ruin things, don't you?" Aunt Petunia sneered. "I know it was you who hurt that student. Don't think you can fool me, Boy. I see exactly what you are. You're nothing but trouble, hurting everyone around you—just like you killed that Cedric you scream about in your sleep every night."
Harry flinched visibly at this, and his aunt noticed. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she pressed on, clearly intent on wounding him further.
"Oh yes, boy… you thought we didn't know? Those peculiar professors at that school of yours told us what happened. Said we were to keep an eye on you, as if we'd want to! But we know it was you who got that boy killed, don't we? Deep down, you know it too. Just like you know you're responsible for Dudley getting hurt. You're a menace, freak, spreading misery wherever you go."
Harry shook his head, almost as if he could physically shake off her words.
"No… it's not true… you don't know anything…"
A cruel, shrill laugh escaped Aunt Petunia's mouth.
"Oh, I know enough to see through your act. You're not innocent, not at all. You even got your own parents killed. That murderer you lot carry on about in your ridiculous world wouldn't have hunted down my sister if it hadn't been for you."
Her words hit Harry like a punch in the gut, making it hard for him to breathe.
Petunia gave a satisfied smile, seeing the impact her words had on him. She took his silence as the end of the conversation.
"And since you insist on being a burden to this family, you can start earning your keep." With that, she left him standing alone in the sitting room, her words still ringing painfully in his mind.
As she walked off, he noticed Dudley standing at the end of the hallway, looking troubled. Harry didn't understand why and, at that moment, didn't particularly care. Aunt Petunia's words echoed in his mind.
A little while later, Aunt Petunia returned with a long list of chores. Harry took it without a word; he didn't have the energy to argue. At least having work to do might keep his mind busy, though he doubted it would do anything to stop his relatives' anger.
He was in the kitchen preparing dinner. The day had gone by quickly, filled with chores around the house and garden. He'd done them mechanically, his aunt's words replaying over and over in his head. Maybe he did bring death with him, he thought—first his parents, then Cedric.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door slamming outside, and he froze, hearing the heavy footsteps of his uncle approaching the house.
The hand holding the pan trembled, and he struggled to steady it, though he knew what was coming.
When Vernon entered, the tension in the air became almost unbearable. Harry kept his back to him, though every instinct screamed at him to leave. He forced himself to stay put and finish the meal as fast as possible.
For now, Vernon seemed content to ignore him, which Harry was grateful for. Vernon sat down at the table, speaking with his wife and son, though his voice was tense and laced with irritation.
Harry almost sighed in relief when he finished serving the food. He placed the plates on the table quickly and retreated into the kitchen, hoping they'd let him go to his room for once.
From the kitchen, he could hear the sounds of their dinner. He wasn't allowed to eat with them—a reminder that he was not, and never would be, part of the family.
So far, the evening had gone surprisingly well. Despite the tension, nothing had happened, and Harry hoped it would stay that way.
But, as he should have known by now, nothing was ever straightforward in his life.
He was clearing the table when Dudley, who had been different toward him since the Dementor attack, tried to hand him his plate.
Harry hadn't expected this small kindness from his cousin; before that summer, Dudley wouldn't have hesitated to make things harder for him. But perhaps having his life saved by magic had changed his view of Harry's world.
The unexpected act of kindness, combined with Harry's desire to leave the Dursleys' presence as quickly as possible, led to disaster.
The sound of shattering glass echoed, and Harry knew he'd remember it for years to come, along with what followed.
All the Dursleys jumped up from their seats. Harry's eyes went wide as the first stirrings of fear took hold. A glance at his uncle told him Vernon would seize on this as his excuse.
Dudley seemed to realise this too and, to Harry's surprise, tried to take the blame.
"Dad, it was me. Harry didn't do anything. I was the one who dropped it."
But Vernon's eyes were fixed on Harry, his expression murderous. Without looking away from his nephew, he spoke.
"Dudley, go upstairs."
Cold dread settled in Harry's stomach.
"No, Dad, please… it wasn't…"
But Vernon cut him off with a sharp look.
"I said, go!"
Dudley looked hesitant, and for the first time, Harry met his gaze and saw fear there. Vernon rarely spoke to Dudley that way.
Harry, touched by his cousin's unexpected show of support, didn't want Vernon's anger to turn on him as well or make his uncle think had put his son under some kind of spell.
He knew his uncle had been looking for an excuse since that morning.
He gave Dudley a small nod, hoping to communicate his gratitude while trying not to make things worse.
Dudley bit his lip, clearly understanding, but he still didn't want to leave. Petunia pulled him upstairs, giving Harry a scornful look on her way out.
And then, they were alone. There wasn't even time to brace himself before the first blow landed.
Hello everyone, here I am with a new chapter. Let me know what you think!
