Disclaimer: I only own the plot , if any text from original source is used then they would belong to one and only J.K. Rowling. Hope You Like it.
Harry knew he couldn't risk going to Fawcett Manor that day. The Twin elves, Twinky and Dimpy, with their keen eyes and gentle nature, or maybe even Grandma Mrs. Tucker, with her sharp wit and warm heart, might discover the truth about his abuse. He couldn't bear the thought of them finding out, seeing the worry and concern etched on their faces, and hearing their whispers of pity and outrage. So he decided to head to Dudley's room instead, seeking refuge in the familiar, if not always welcoming, space.
As he entered, Dudley looked up from his bed, where he was lounging with a book, concern etched on his face. "Hey, Harry, are you okay? Is it really hurting your back?" he asked, his voice laced with empathy, his brow furrowed with worry.
Harry forced a weak smile, trying to downplay the pain, not wanting to burden Dudley with his troubles. "Not much now," he replied, wincing slightly as he moved, the ache in his back still tender.
Dudley's expression turned somber, and he looked away, shamefaced. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm really sorry I wasn't able to take a stand again. I don't think I'll ever be able to stand up to Mum and Dad," he said, his voice cracking with regret, his eyes welling up with tears. He shook his head, his face twisted in self-loathing. "I'm such a coward, Harry. I'm so sorry."
Meanwhile, at Spinner's End, Severus Snape was relaxing in his favorite armchair, a glass of wine in hand. The summer sun cast a warm glow through the windows, illuminating the rows of dusty bookshelves and the intricate potions equipment that lined the walls. Snape's eyes drifted shut, his mind wandering back to the previous year's events at Hogwarts.
He couldn't believe it, but he had actually enjoyed his time with Harry Potter. Before meeting the boy, Snape had assumed he would be a spoiled, arrogant brat, just like his father. But Harry had proven him wrong from the very first potions class. The boy's natural talent, politeness, and humility had slowly chipped away at Snape's defenses.
"Ah, yes...the Potter-Snape Amnesia Potion," Snape murmured to himself, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He and Harry had worked together seamlessly, their differences momentarily set aside in pursuit of a common goal. Snape's eyes snapped open, and he gazed into the distance, his expression softening ever so slightly.
Lily Evans Potter had been the reason he had sworn to protect Harry all those years ago. But maybe, just maybe, Harry himself had earned a place in Snape's affections. The boy's bravery, loyalty, and kindness had slowly won Snape over, and he found himself caring for Harry in a way he never thought possible.
Snape's thoughts drifted back to that first potions class, where Harry had surprisingly decoded the message Snape had conveyed in Victorian flower language. Harry had understood the hidden meaning behind it. Snape had expressed his deep regret over Lily's death, a sentiment he had never expected Harry to decipher.
But what Harry didn't know, and what Snape was determined to keep hidden, was that his regret went far beyond mere friendship. Snape's love for Lily had never truly faded, even after all these years. However, Harry's understanding of the message had shown Snape that the boy was more perceptive and empathetic than he had given him credit for.
Snape's gaze fell upon a framed photo on his mantle, one that Harry had given him last Christmas. The picture showed Snape and Lily, both 11 years old, smiling and carefree. It was this thoughtful gift that had truly won Snape's respect and care for Harry. From that day on, Snape had started to see Harry in a different light, not just as Lily's son, but as an individual worthy of his own affection and protection.
"Yes, I will always love Lily," Snape murmured to himself, "but I will also care for Harry, not just because he is her son, but because he is Harry." The admission was a quiet one, but it marked a significant shift in Snape's emotions, one that would continue to evolve in the days to come.
Snape's thoughts took a darker turn as he recalled an incident that had occurred before Christmas, when his relationship with Harry was still tentative. It was before Halloween, when the anniversary of Potter's death was nearing, and Harry was visibly shaken. Snape remembered seeing Harry talking to Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, his voice barely above a whisper. Snape had overheard Harry mention that it was hitting him hard that year, and that he had only recently discovered the truth about his parents' death. Until then, Petunia had led him to believe that they had died in a car crash.
Snape's curiosity had been piqued at the time, and he had wondered why Petunia would lie to Harry about something so significant. Was Harry's home life not good? The question had lingered in Snape's mind, but he had not pursued it further. Now, however, he was faced with a more disturbing possibility.
"What if Harry's home life was worse?" Snape thought to himself, his mind racing with the implications. "What if it was like my own childhood, or maybe even worse?" He mentally cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. There had to be a reason for Harry's submissive, self-blaming nature. Snape's eyes narrowed, his thoughts taking a darker turn. "No, Harry can't be abused, can he?" The question hung in the air, a terrible possibility that Snape could hardly bear to consider.
Snape's thoughts continued to unravel the mystery of Harry's past as he recalled the Dream Reality incident that had occurred before Christmas. At the time, Snape had used Legilimency to help cure Harry, in conjunction with Madam Pomfrey's treatment. He remembered the peculiar turn of events when Harry's mind had somehow forced Snape out, and it had begun to reveal random, fragmented memories. The images had flashed by like a disjointed slideshow: snippets of Harry's life at the Dursleys, moments of loneliness and despair, and glimpses of a deep-seated fear.
It was during this episode that the adults present - Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the Weasleys - had realized that Sirius was not the Secret Keeper. However, Snape's attention was now drawn to a detail that had escaped him at the time. Harry's memories were littered with derogatory words: "Worthless," "Useless," "Freak." Snape's eyes narrowed as he wondered if Harry had been subjected to such verbal abuse at home. Had the Dursleys been poisoning Harry's mind with their cruelty?
Furthermore, Snape recalled that Harry's body was covered in an exceptionally powerful glamour charm, one that was imperceptible to everyone except himself. Snape's own experiences with similar, albeit weaker, glamour charms during his childhood flashed before his eyes. He had used them to conceal the evidence of his own abuse, to hide the bruises and scars from his father's cruelty. The parallel was unsettling. Did it mean that Harry, too, was a victim of abuse? The possibility sent a chill down Snape's spine, and for a moment, he felt a pang of empathy for the young boy who had been suffering in silence.
Snape's mind was racing with thoughts of how to address the situation. He knew he had to act swiftly, given that Dumbledore had arranged for Harry to spend part of his summer with the Dursleys. Snape wondered if Dumbledore was aware of the potential abuse Harry might be facing. Had he intentionally kept Mrs. Figg nearby to keep an eye on things, or had he genuinely been oblivious to the situation? The more Snape thought about it, the more he became convinced that Dumbledore had, in fact, failed Harry in some way.
As he pondered his next move, Snape decided that confronting Dumbledore directly might not be the most prudent approach. Instead, he opted to seek out Minerva McGonagall, someone he knew would be deeply concerned about Harry's well-being. McGonagall had always had a soft spot for Harry, and Snape had even caught glimpses of their affectionate interactions, including Harry affectionately calling her "Gran Minnie" when they were not in a formal setting.
With a sense of determination, Snape set off to Apparate from Spinner's End to the vicinity of McGonagall's castle, where she was spending her summer holidays. As he disappeared into the swirling vortex of the Apparition, Snape's thoughts were focused on the conversation he was about to have with McGonagall, one that would determine the course of action they would take to ensure Harry's safety.
Meanwhile, back at Privet Drive, Harry had been trying to reassure Dudley, who was visibly shaken by their earlier conversation. The summer sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the concern etched on Dudley's face. "Just compose yourself, Dudley," Harry said gently, his voice a soothing balm to his cousin's frayed nerves. "You'll find the courage to stand up to your parents one day, to stand up against what's wrong." Harry's words were laced with a quiet conviction, a sense of determination that he had honed over the years.
Dudley looked up at Harry, his eyes filled with concern, his brow furrowed in worry. "But what about you, Harry? You'll just keep suffering till then, won't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh reality that Harry faced.
Harry's expression turned resigned, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his secrets. "I don't have a choice, Dudley," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of sadness, a hint of desperation. "I have to stay here, no matter what."
Dudley's face scrunched up in confusion, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand the complexities of Harry's situation. "But why don't you just run off and live at Fawcett Manor with Grandma Mrs. Tucker? You go there every morning, so why not just stay there permanently?" he asked, his tone incredulous, his words tumbling out in a rush.
Harry's eyes dropped, and he hesitated for a moment, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. "It's not that simple, Dudley," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, a tantalizing hint of secrets and mysteries that Harry kept hidden, even from his cousin.
Harry took a deep breath before explaining the situation to Dudley. "Dumbledore told me that the Dursleys' home has a powerful blood ward that protects me from Lord Voldemort," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "As long as I have a home here, with blood relatives, the ward will keep me safe."
Dudley's eyes widened in shock as he processed the information. "So, you're saying you have no choice but to live with us, and...and get abused?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
Harry nodded, his eyes dropping in shame. Dudley's face contorted in anguish, and he took a step closer to Harry. "Does Ginny know about the abuse?" he asked, his voice cracking with concern.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Dudley's gaze. "I told her I get beaten rarely," he muttered.
Dudley's expression turned incredulous. "That's false, Harry! You get beaten up daily, and brutally!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in outrage.
Harry looked up, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I don't want to worry her, or anyone else," he said quietly. "I can handle it, Dudley."
The Dursleys were in a flurry of activity, preparing for tonight's dinner party, where the Masons would be arriving. Vernon's eyes gleamed with excitement at the prospect of making the deal of a lifetime. Harry, on the other hand, felt a sense of dread wash over him. He had already been warned that if anything went awry, he would face severe punishment.
As he began doing his chores, Harry's mind wandered back to his conversation with Dudley. Should he tell Ginny about the extent of the abuse he suffered at the Dursleys'? The thought sent a pang of anxiety through him. But he knew he didn't have a choice but to live with the Dursleys. At least, not yet.
"What if Dumbledore finds out about the abuse?" Harry thought to himself. "Would he still want me to live here?" The possibility sent a glimmer of hope through him, but he quickly pushed it aside. He couldn't worry Ginny more than she already was. She had been frantic with worry during his first year at Hogwarts, and he couldn't bear the thought of putting her through that again.
Besides, it was only two more months until he would return to Hogwarts for his second year, reunited with his best friends Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Draco. They had all become incredibly close since Draco had changed his ways months ago, and Harry was grateful for their friendship and support. And this time, Ginny would be joining him as a first-year student, his girlfriend from the past year. The thought brought a small smile to his lips, and he continued with his chores, lost in thoughts of the freedom and happiness that awaited him at Hogwarts.
After completing all his chores, Harry watched as the Dursleys prepared for their evening with the Masons. Vernon, resplendent in his best suit, adjusted his tie in the mirror, while Petunia fussed over her hair. Dudley, looking uncomfortable in his formal attire, cornered Harry in the hallway.
"Harry, please don't hesitate to...to leave or something if they start abusing you," Dudley whispered urgently. "You don't have to suffer it."
Harry shook his head stubbornly, his eyes flashing with a noble determination. "I can handle it, Dudley. Don't worry about me."
Dudley sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Fine, but...just be careful, okay?"
The two boys quickly put up the act of hating each other as Vernon and Petunia approached. Vernon's eyes narrowed at Harry. "And what will you be doing when the Masons arrive, boy?" he growled.
Harry repeated the line Vernon had instructed him to say. "I'll be in my room, making no noise, pretending I don't exist."
Vernon's face twisted into a cruel smile. "Good. See that you do."
Dudley slipped into his room, careful not to draw attention to himself. The soft click of the door closing behind him was a welcome respite from the tension that had been building in the household. He knew Harry would be stubborn and suffer abuse, and it broke his heart. Over the past year, Dudley's perspective had shifted dramatically after learning the truth about Harry's treatment at the hands of his father, and his mother's complicity. The revelation had changed Dudley, and he had grown closer to Harry, forming a special bond that transcended their former animosity.
Dudley's eyes fell upon the book he had secretly borrowed from the library at Fawcett Manor during their last visit. The worn leather cover seemed to blend into the shadows of his room, but the title, "Department of Child Healthcare and Abuse," seemed to leap off the cover, taunting him with its significance. The book was a resource from a small department within the Wizarding World, one that dealt specifically with child abuse cases involving young witches and wizards, often Muggleborns. Dudley had been drawn to the book, hoping to find some answers, some way to help his cousin.
As Dudley opened the book, a page marked with a torn piece of paper caught his attention. It was a telephone number, a unusual sight in the Wizarding World, where owls and Floo Powder were the norm. However, the Ministry had provided this number specifically for cases like Harry's, a direct line to the Aurors, similar to calling the police in the Muggle world. The number seemed to stare back at Dudley, a beacon of hope in a desperate situation. Dudley's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the number, wondering if he should take the risk and make the call.
Dudley's eyes lingered on the telephone number, his mind racing with the weight of the decision that lay before him. He knew that if things escalated to a catastrophic point, he would have to take the step of calling the Aurors. But he was also aware that it would require a tremendous amount of courage to do so, as it would mean going against his parents.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. If he were to call the Aurors, his parents would be arrested and imprisoned for their crimes against Harry. The severity of their abuse would ensure a lengthy sentence, although Dudley's knowledge of Wizarding laws was limited. Nevertheless, he was certain that the consequences would be severe.
Dudley's heart ached as he contemplated the potential outcome. It would mean losing his parents, his family would be torn apart, and he would be left alone. The thought was daunting, but recently, Dudley had been questioning his feelings towards his parents. Did he truly love them, or had their cruel treatment of Harry instilled a deep-seated hatred within him?
The past year had been a journey of self-discovery for Dudley, and he had come to realize that he was torn between his loyalty to his parents and his growing sense of morality. He knew that the decision to choose between Harry and his parents, between right and wrong, would be the most pivotal moment of his life.
"Will I be able to make the right decision?" Dudley wondered, his voice barely above a whisper. Only time would tell, but for now, he felt a sense of determination wash over him. He was prepared, and he was planning to do the right thing, no matter the cost.
Vernon's booming voice summoned Dudley downstairs, and he reluctantly obliged, resuming his role as the spoiled brat. Meanwhile, Harry trudged upstairs, the weight of his instructions settling heavy on his shoulders. He was to remain in his room, silent and invisible, a ghostly presence in the Dursleys' home.
As Harry climbed the stairs, his mind began to wander. He thought about his beloved pets, Hedwig, Poco, and Kluer, safely ensconced at Fawcett Manor. He had promised to visit them daily, but today he had skipped, fearing that Twinky, Dimpy, or Grandma Mrs. Tucker might notice the telltale signs of yesterday's brutal belting.
A nagging concern crept into Harry's thoughts. It had been a week since he'd received any letters from his best friends, Draco, Hermione, Ron, or Neville. He had sent them several letters through Hedwig during his visits to Fawcett Manor, but the silence from his friends was unsettling. Was something amiss?
Just as Harry's worries were beginning to spiral, he recalled the letter he'd received from Uncle Moony – Remus Lupin – two days ago. Remus had written to inform Harry that he would be spending the full moon night at the Bones' estate, where Sirius was staying under house arrest. Harry's heart swelled with affection for his godfather, whom he knew was innocent. The fact that he had received Remus's letter without any issues reassured Harry that his own letters weren't being intercepted. Or were they?
As the sound of the Masons' arrival drifted upstairs, Harry cautiously opened the door to his room, mindful of the instructions to remain silent and invisible. He locked the door behind himself, intending to spend the night in quiet solitude, with plans to meet Ginny in Dreamland later. However, fate had other plans.
As he stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Harry's eyes fell upon a sight that made his heart skip a beat. A house elf stood before him, but this was no ordinary elf. Harry had encountered house elves before, like Twinky and Dimpy at Fawcett Manor, and his friends at Hogwarts, like Chimey, Blinky, and Wobby. But this elf was different.
The elf wore a tattered, filthy pillowcase, a far cry from the silvermist uniforms of Twinky and Dimpy or the decent attire of the Hogwarts elves. This elf's appearance was a testament to mistreatment and neglect. Harry's eyes widened as he took in the elf's gaunt frame and estimated age – around 30 to 35, middle-aged for an elf.
For the first time in his life, Harry was face to face with a house elf who had been brutally mistreated. The sight stirred something deep within him, a sense of outrage and compassion that he couldn't ignore.
As Snape approached the gates of McGonagall Castle, they swung open with a soft creak, granting him entry as one of the select few authorized to do so. The castle's imposing structure loomed before him, its stone façade glowing warmly in the fading light of day. Snape's eyes scanned the grounds, his gaze settling on a figure seated on a bench, surrounded by lush greenery.
Minerva McGonagall, resplendent in a comfortable summer dress, looked up from the book she was reading, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in Snape's unexpected arrival. For a moment, she seemed poised to remark on his sudden presence, but Snape's austere demeanor forestalled her.
"I have come to discuss a matter of utmost gravity, Minerva," Snape announced, his voice low and urgent, dispensing with any semblance of small talk. McGonagall's expression turned attentive, her eyes narrowing slightly as Snape launched into a detailed exposition of his theory.
As Snape spoke, McGonagall's face reflected her growing horror, her eyes widening in alarm. "Severus, are you certain of this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she feared being overheard. Snape's expression remained grim, his jaw set in a resolute line. "I am afraid so, Minerva. The evidence points to a disturbing conclusion..."
As Snape finished outlining his theory, McGonagall's expression turned resolute, her eyes flashing with determination. "We must act, Severus," she declared, her voice firm. "The potential for Harry being abused is enough to warrant our intervention. We can investigate further to determine the truth."
Snape nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "I concur, Minerva. However, we must exercise caution. If we are to visit Privet Drive, we must do so unnoticed by Arabella Figg. If she were to inform Dumbledore, it would be...inconvenient, to say the least, until we are certain of the situation."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I see your point, Severus. We cannot risk Dumbledore's interference at this stage. When do you propose we make our move?"
Snape's gaze turned inward, his mind working out the logistics. "Tomorrow afternoon should be suitable. The Dursleys will likely be distracted, and we can observe Harry's situation without arousing suspicion."
McGonagall nodded, a plan beginning to take shape. "Very well, Severus. Tomorrow afternoon, we shall pay a visit to Privet Drive and uncover the truth about Harry's treatment."
The house elf, Dobby, continued to bounce on Harry's bed, its movements becoming more erratic by the second. Harry's eyes widened in alarm as he realized that if Dobby made any more noise, Vernon would likely kill him. He whispered to the elf, trying to calm it down, "Mr. Elf, please, you have to be quiet. My uncle will hurt me if he hears any noise."
Dobby's bouncing stopped abruptly as it turned to face Harry. Its high-pitched voice trembled with excitement, "Harry Potter, what an honour! Dobby is honoured to meet you, sir!" Harry's eyes locked onto Dobby's, and he politely asked, "Please, Dobby, sit down." But instead of complying, Dobby burst into tears, its tiny body shaking with sobs.
Harry's confusion deepened as he watched Dobby cry. He had never seen a house elf behave like this before. Twinky and Dimpy, the twin elves at Fawcett Manor, were always cheerful and efficient. What could have caused Dobby such distress? Harry's heart went out to the mistreated elf, and he gently asked, "Dobby, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Dobby's cries subsided, and he looked up at Harry with tears-stained eyes. "Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter, sir," he squeaked. "Dobby has heard of your bravery, but your kindness, no one has ever asked Dobby to sit. Dobby is not used to such treatment."
Harry's expression softened. "Dobby must not have met with any decent wizards, then," he said gently.
Dobby's eyes widened, and he almost nodded, but then his face contorted in a mixture of fear and pain. "Oh no, no, no, Dobby didn't mean to speak ill of his masters!" he squealed, grabbing the nearby table lamp and starting to bang his head against it.
Harry's eyes widened in horror as he rushed to stop Dobby. "Dobby, no! Stop! You'll hurt yourself!" he whispered urgently, trying to pry the lamp out of Dobby's grasp. The Masons were still downstairs, and if Vernon heard the commotion, Harry dreaded to think what would happen.
Harry managed to hide Dobby in the cupboard just in time, as Vernon burst into the room, his face red with rage. "What's all the noise about, you little brat?" he bellowed, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of disturbance. Harry held his breath, hoping that Dobby would remain silent.
Vernon's warning was laced with malice. "If I hear one more peep out of you, you'll wish you were never born." With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Harry shaken.
Once Vernon was gone, Harry opened the cupboard and gently coaxed Dobby out. "Dobby, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Dobby's eyes shone with a mixture of fear and admiration. "Dobby heard that Harry Potter, sir, faced You-Know-Who, for the second time, to save the Philosopher's Stone." Harry nodded humbly. "It wasn't just me, though. My friends Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Draco helped too."
Dobby's face flickered with a significant look at the mention of Draco's name, but Harry failed to notice. Dobby's expression turned solemn. "Dobby just wants to save Harry Potter, sir. That's why Dobby is here. Harry Potter, sir, must not go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to attend his second year come September 1st."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why not?" he asked, but Dobby just shook his head, his eyes welling up with tears.
Harry's face set in determination, his jaw clenched in resolve. "But Hogwarts is my home, Dobby. I have to be there. My friends are there," he said, his voice firm, as if daring Dobby to contradict him.
Dobby's expression turned sorrowful, his eyes welling up with tears. "Friends, those don't even write to Harry Potter, sir," he said, his voice trembling, as if the mere thought of Harry's friends' neglect was too much to bear.
Harry's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing in concern. "They must be busy," he said, trying to reassure himself, but his words sounded hollow even to his own ears. Then, his eyes widened as a realization dawned on him. "Wait, how did you know that my friends haven't written to me?" he asked, his curiosity piqued, his mind racing with possibilities.
Dobby's eyes darted nervously around the room, as if searching for an escape route, before settling on Harry's face. "Dobby knows, Harry Potter, sir," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his words dripping with an air of mystery.
Harry's mind was racing, his thoughts tumbling over each other in a mad scramble for answers. How did Dobby know about his friends' silence? Had Dobby been intercepting his mail? The thought sent a shiver down Harry's spine, his skin crawling with unease. He leaned in, his eyes locked intently on Dobby's, his voice low and urgent. "Tell me, Dobby. How do you know?"
Dobby's eyes dropped, shamefaced, as he apologized, "Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby intercepted your letters, thinking that if Harry Potter, sir, didn't get letters, he might not go to Hogwarts, thinking he doesn't have any friends." Harry's temper flared, but he bit it back, knowing that the mistreated elf didn't deserve his anger.
Harry's voice was calm, but firm. "Why didn't you intercept Remus's letter, Dobby?" Dobby's eyes flickered up, "Because Lupin is not Harry Potter's, sir, friend from Hogwarts, and not related to Hogwarts in any way, Harry Potter, sir."
Dobby's expression turned grave, his voice trembling. "Please, don't go to Hogwarts, Harry Potter, sir. Very dark plot is being surrounded...his masters..." Dobby's voice trailed off, and he stopped himself just in time, realizing he was about to speak ill of his masters again.
In a flash, Dobby's face contorted in anguish, and he began banging his head against the wall, wailing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Harry's eyes widened in alarm as he rushed to intervene, trying to stop Dobby's self-inflicted punishment.
Harry managed to calm Dobby down, gently prying his hands away from his head. "Dobby, it's okay. You're safe now," Harry said soothingly, his voice a gentle balm to Dobby's frazzled nerves. Dobby's eyes, still brimming with tears, looked up at Harry with gratitude, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
"Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby whispered, his voice trembling like a leaf. Harry smiled kindly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's okay, Dobby. Just tell me, do your masters know that you're here?" Dobby shook his head vigorously, his eyes wide with fear, as if the mere thought of his masters discovering his presence was enough to send him into a panic.
Harry's curiosity was piqued. "Who are your masters, Dobby?" he asked gently, his voice coaxing, trying to draw the truth out of the reluctant elf. But Dobby's eyes widened in terror, and he took a step back, as if trying to escape the question itself. His face went pale, and his lips trembled.
Harry held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Okay, Dobby, you can't tell me. I understand," he said, trying to reassure the frightened elf. Dobby looked grateful, his eyes shining with tears, as he nodded his head in appreciation.
Harry tried a different tack. "What is the dark plot around Hogwarts, Dobby?" he asked, his voice low and urgent, trying to get to the bottom of the mystery. But Dobby's face closed off again, his eyes darting nervously around the room, as if searching for an escape route. "Dobby can't tell, Harry Potter, sir," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.
Harry rushed to Dobby's side, grasping his shoulders to stop him from banging his head against the wall. "Dobby, no! Please, don't make any noise," Harry whispered urgently, his eyes darting towards the door, fearful that Vernon would return.
Dobby's eyes were wild with distress, but he nodded, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter, sir," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Harry's expression turned solemn. "Dobby, I promise you, I'll be careful," he said, trying to reassure the elf. But Dobby's face contorted in anguish.
"Promise Harry Potter, sir, that you will not go to Hogwarts this year," Dobby pleaded, his eyes brimming with tears. Harry hesitated, unsure of what to say.
Dobby's face fell, his eyes clouding over. "Harry Potter, sir, please promise," he asked again, his voice cracking with emotion.
Harry shook his head, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, Dobby. I can't promise that," he said gently. Dobby's face crumpled, and he whispered, "Then Harry Potter, sir, has left Dobby no option."
With a determined look, Dobby turned and opened the door, his eyes fixed on something outside. Harry's heart sank, and he rushed to stop Dobby. "No, please stop!" he whispered urgently, but Dobby didn't seem to hear him.
Before Harry could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs with a speed that belied his small stature. Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry sprang after him, trying not to make a sound as he desperately attempted to catch up to the errant elf.
He jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around frantically for Dobby. From the dining room, he heard Uncle Vernon's booming laughter and his voice saying, "…tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear…" Harry's heart sank as he realized Dobby was heading straight for the kitchen.
Harry ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt his stomach disappear. Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling, suspended in mid-air as if by magic. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby, his eyes shining with a mischievous glint.
"No," croaked Harry, his voice barely audible as he tried to reason with the elf. "Please… they'll kill me…" Dobby's face was set in a determined expression.
"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —" Dobby said, his voice firm but trembling with emotion.
"Dobby… please…" Harry pleaded, trying to dissuade the elf from his course of action.
"Say it, sir —" Dobby urged, his eyes locked on Harry's.
"I can't —" Harry protested, but Dobby gave him a tragic look.
"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good," Dobby said, his voice resigned but determined.
The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash, sending cream splattering the windows and walls as the dish shattered into a hundred pieces. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished into thin air, leaving Harry staring at the wreckage in horror.
There were screams from the dining room, and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen, his face purple with rage, to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia's pudding.
At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. "Just our nephew — very disturbed — meeting strangers upsets him, so we kept him upstairs…" He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harry he would flay him to within an inch of his life when the Masons had left, and handed him a mop. Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer, and Harry, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean.
Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal — if it hadn't been for the owl. Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.
Harry stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes. "Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on — read it!" Harry took it. It did not contain birthday greetings.
"Dear Mr. Potter," Harry read aloud, his voice trembling slightly, "We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine. As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school. (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C). We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays!
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic."
Harry looked up from the letter and gulped. Uncle Vernon's face was purple with rage.
"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," Uncle Vernon spat, his voice venomous. "Forgot to mention it… Slipped your mind, I daresay…" He was bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared.
"Well, I've got news for you, boy… I'm locking you up… You're never going back to that school… never… and if you try and magic yourself out — they'll expel you!" Uncle Vernon's eyes gleamed with malice as he reached for Harry's arm.
And laughing like a maniac, Uncle Vernon dragged Harry back upstairs, his grip on Harry's arm like a vice. Harry stumbled and tripped, but Uncle Vernon's grasp only tightened. They reached the top of the stairs, and Uncle Vernon flung Harry into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
"You're going to regret ever crossing me, boy!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, his voice echoing through the hallway. Harry stumbled to the window, but before he could even reach it, By morning he heard the sound of hammering and drilling. Uncle Vernon was as bad as his word. At once, he fitted bars on Harry's window, trapping him inside.
And then, Harry got the beating of his life. Uncle Vernon's belt came down again and again, each lash leaving a burning stripe across Harry's back and legs. Harry tried to defend himself, but Uncle Vernon was too strong. He was badly bruised, his body screaming in agony.
However, Vernon left mid-beating as Petunia called him downstairs. "Vernon, dear! The Masons are leaving! Do come and say goodbye!" Harry crawled up to bed, covered with fresh wounds and old scars, blood dripping from a few. He had never been beaten up that badly. His body throbbed with pain, and his eyes stung with tears.
As he lay there, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever escape the Dursleys' cruelty. The bars on his window seemed to mock him, a reminder that he was trapped, with no way out. Harry closed his eyes, letting the darkness wash over him, and prayed for the pain to end.
Harry lay in bed, his body aching with pain, his mind racing with thoughts of escape. He didn't want to call the twins or any other wizards for help, fearing that Grandma Mrs. Tucker would find out about the abuse and intervene, making things worse.
Downstairs, Vernon was in for a surprise visit by his sister, Marge. She was a large, loud woman with a booming voice and a penchant for criticizing everyone around her. Vernon told her about how, due to Harry, he had lost the deal of his life. Marge's expression turned sympathetic, but only for a moment.
"Why is he still bothering you, Vernon?" Marge asked, her voice dripping with malice. "You should finish him off already. He's nothing but a nuisance." Petunia spoke up, her voice hesitant. "But, Marge, we're getting 500 pounds monthly as an allowance to keep him. It's a lot of money..." Vernon's eyes lit up with a sinister glint. "Maybe they're right, Petunia. Maybe we should just finish off Harry and plan to stage it as an accident. We can even stage a funeral. No one would suspect a thing."
Meanwhile, at the Burrow, Ginny sat in her room, her brow furrowed with worry. She was having a bad feeling, one that had been growing since the previous night. Why hadn't Harry appeared in their secret dreamland? They had met every night since they discovered it last Christmas, except for that one time when Harry had been unconscious for two days after facing Quirrell.
Ginny's mind was racing with possibilities. Did it mean Harry was unconscious now? But why? How? He must be at the Dursleys'. What can possibly happen? And it was sure that Harry's honorary Grandma, Mrs. Tucker, didn't know anything about it, meaning Harry must have not visited Fawcett Manor with Dudley today, or else someone had told her, right?
Something very bad was going to happen or had already happened. Her love, Harry, was in danger. Ginny's heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt a sense of desperation wash over her. She had to do something, but what? She couldn't just sit here and wait for something terrible to happen.
"I have to tell Mum and Dad," Ginny said to herself, already jumping out of bed and rushing to the door. She flung it open and ran downstairs, determined to share her fears with her family and come up with a plan to help Harry.
Ginny rushed downstairs, her heart racing with worry. It was a sunny summer Sunday, and the atmosphere at the Burrow was lively. Charlie, who was temporarily home before his transfer to a new dragon reserve in England, was in the backyard playing Quidditch with Ron, the twins, and Percy. The sound of laughter, shouts, and the occasional crash of broomsticks filled the air.
Ginny bypassed the commotion and made her way to the kitchen, where she found her parents, Molly and Arthur Weasley, busy making Sunday lunch. The delicious aroma of roasting chicken and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, but Ginny's anxiety had killed her appetite.
"Mum, Dad, something's wrong," Ginny said, her voice trembling. "I have to see Harry now, please." Her parents exchanged concerned glances, but they didn't press her for details.
"Okay, dear, we'll take you to the Dursleys'," Molly said, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. "But let's leave a note for the boys, so they know where we've gone." Arthur nodded and quickly scribbled a note, which he left on the kitchen table.
"Let's go," Arthur said, offering Ginny a reassuring smile. "We'll apparate to the Dursleys' and see what's going on." Ginny nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She was going to find Harry, and everything was going to be okay.
Meanwhile, at McGonagall's castle, Professor Snape and McGonagall were preparing to apparate to Privet Drive as planned. Snape's eyes narrowed as he checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. His suspicions about Harry's treatment at the hands of the Dursleys had been growing all summer, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
"I still cannot believe those Muggles are entrusted with the boy's care," Snape muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. McGonagall shot him a warning glance.
"Severus, we must remain objective," she cautioned. "We have no concrete evidence of abuse... yet." Snape's expression turned skeptical.
"I have seen the boy's behavior, Minerva," he said. "The way he flinches at sudden movements, the way he avoids eye contact... these are not the actions of a boy who is being properly cared for." McGonagall's expression softened slightly.
"I agree, Severus," she said. "But we must be careful not to jump to conclusions. We will observe the situation, and if necessary, we will take action." Snape nodded curtly, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity.
"Very well," he said. "Let us proceed. I have a feeling that we are about to uncover something very unpleasant indeed." With that, the two professors apparated, disappearing into the summer morning, bound for Privet Drive.
Meanwhile, at Fawcett Manor, Hedwig came flying in, looking very worried. She had been searching for Harry everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Harry had kept Hedwig, Poco his little sparrow, and Kluer his color-changing cat at Fawcett Manor, promising that he would visit every day. But Harry had not visited yesterday, and not even today morning. Sensing something was wrong, Hedwig had flown to Privet Drive, only to find bars on the window and an unconscious figure of Harry lying there.
Inside the manor, Grandma Mrs. Tucker was in Daisy's room. Daisy was the homeless girl, a witch, found by Harry and Ginny on their date, and Harry had vowed to adopt her as a sister. There was also a possibility that Daisy was actually Harry's real sister, who had somehow survived the fateful Halloween night. Daisy looked like a younger version of Harry's mom, with red hair and a face that resembled Lily Potter's, but with Harry's dad's hazel eyes. Daisy was sleeping, as she had been under treatment for detoxification, which required sleeping for 20 hours a day.
Just then, Hedwig came straight to Grandma Mrs. Tucker, trying to convey a very urgent message with her hoots. Grandma understood at least that something was wrong related to Harry. She immediately called one of her twin elves, Twinky, to apparate her to Privet Drive.
"Twinky, dear, I need you to take me to Privet Drive at once," Grandma Mrs. Tucker said, her voice firm and commanding. "Hedwig here has brought me a message that something is terribly wrong with Harry. I fear for his safety."
Meanwhile, back at Privet Drive, Dudley heard his dad's and Aunt Marge's evil plan. Things had crossed the threshold now. Dudley's eyes widened in horror as he realized that his family was capable of something so heinous. He remembered how yesterday he had tried to convince Harry to tell someone about the abuse, but Harry had refused, not wanting to put Dudley in danger.
Dudley's heart was racing as he ran to his room, his mind made up. He opened the book he had taken from Fawcett Manor's library when he and Harry had last visited there. Dudley had taken the book discreetly, intending to use it as a last resort. And now, the time had come.
He had to choose. Between his family or his beloved cousin Harry. Between right and wrong. Time had come to finally be brave enough and face his own family. Dudley took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he opened the page of the Child Healthcare and Abuse Department of the Ministry of Magic.
The page revealed a telephone number, one that was often used by Muggle-borns in the Muggle world, in case of abuse. It was a number that would connect Dudley directly to the Aurors, who would come to Harry's rescue. Dudley's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the number, his mind racing with the consequences of his actions.
"What am I doing?" Dudley whispered to himself, his voice trembling with fear. But then, he thought of Harry, battered and bruised, and his resolve hardened. He knew what he had to do.
At Harry's room, Marge and Vernon's cruelty knew no bounds. They started beating the unconscious Harry more, their fists and feet raining down on his fragile body. The sound of their vicious blows echoed through the hallway, making Petunia's blood run cold. They beat him so hard that even the cruel Marge and Vernon were satisfied that Harry wouldn't survive the night.
Then, they came out of the room, their hands having a few blood stains. They exchanged a sinister glance, convinced that by tomorrow, Harry would be dead. They would stage a funeral, cry in a fake act, and frame it as an accident. No one would ever suspect a thing.
They entered the kitchen, where Petunia was waiting, her eyes wide with horror. She saw the bloodstains on their hands and understood the gravity of the situation. Harry's chapter was going to end now, and she felt a pang of guilt for not intervening sooner.
Meanwhile, Dudley, who had been watching the scene unfold, felt his heart heavy with emotion. He knew he had to act fast. He discreetly made his way to the telephone and dialed the number he had found in the book. His hands were shaking, but he managed to inform the Aurors about the situation.
"Please, you have to come now," Dudley urged, trying to keep his voice steady. "They're going to kill him. It might be too late if you don't hurry." The Auror on the other end of the line assured Dudley that help was on the way, and Dudley hung up the phone, praying that they would arrive in time to save Harry's life.
Dudley had done it. He had taken the bravest step he knew, and now he could only hope that it would be enough to save Harry's life. The thought of his parents being arrested by the Aurors, probably for a lifetime, was daunting, but Dudley knew it was a price he had to pay to protect his beloved cousin.
Meanwhile, in a surprising coincidence, a frantic Ginny, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, apparated near the street corner of Privet Drive. The familiar sight of the dull, grey houses seemed ominous in the fading light of day. At the exact same moment, McGonagall and Snape apparated in front of them, their faces stern and worried. The air was electric with tension as they materialized. And, in another astonishing coincidence, Grandma Mrs. Tucker, accompanied by Twinky, apparated right beside them.
The group stood there, surprised to see each other at the shabby corner of the street, which was a safe spot for apparition, half a mile away from the Dursley house. They exchanged curious glances, and then, as if on cue, they all began to explain why they had come there.
"I had a bad feeling about Harry," Ginny said, her voice trembling. "I couldn't reach him, and I knew something was wrong." Her eyes were wide with fear, and her parents instinctively wrapped their arms around her.
"We came to investigate a suspicion of abuse," McGonagall said, her eyes narrowing. "Professor Snape had some concerns, and we decided to look into it."
"I had my suspicions yesterday," Snape added, his voice low and gravelly. "Certain... inconsistencies in the boy's behavior. I feared for his safety." His eyes seemed to bore into the distance, his expression unreadable.
"And I had a message from Hedwig," Grandma Mrs. Tucker said, her face etched with concern. "She was frantic, and I knew I had to come." Twinky, her loyal elf, stood beside her, his eyes shining with worry.
The group stood there, their faces set with determination, ready to face whatever lay ahead. They knew that they had to act fast, to save Harry from the clutches of his abusive relatives. With a shared nod, they set off towards the Dursley house, ready to confront whatever horrors lay within.
Next Chapter is Scars Uncovered!
A/n: I hope You like it. Please ignore grammatical and spelling errors.As I said earlier the truth about abuse is almost out. This was the last and most brutal abuse endured by Harry courtesy of Vernon. I added the part of Marge as I wanted to punish all three of them at once. And as the name of next chapter suggest Doom of Dursleys is at their doorstep maybe quite literally . Thanks for reading. § Hinny Forever § Please Review!!!