AHHHHH! OoTP. This is my favorite book in the series! I appreciate all of you who have stuck with me through this entire ordeal so far. It's been so crazy. I have finished not one, not two…but THREE installments of this series now. That's so crazy to think about.
Now, as a warning, this one is going to be a bit angsty. I don't think we can get away with it not being that way, considering the circumstances. Grief is a complex and complicated process, and it looks different for all of us. Nessa and Harry have both had things a bit rough, and I don't want to gloss over that.
But, I do so love Nessa/George, so there's hope at the end of the tunnel. A Weasley twin story must always be as beautifully light as it is dark, so we're just in for a bumpy ride.
Disclaimer: As is my usual, I'll do this once per story. It goes without saying that I am not JKR, and, therefore, do not have any rights to these characters, plot, or storyline (outside of my OCs). This is her world…I'm just living in it. All rights belong to her and/or Warner Bros and I make no profit from this series.
Title: The Sound of Silence
Summary: 4th installment of T . OotP. Her entire life's purpose was to keep her brother safe, and every year, it feels less and less like she can manage to do that. In a cruel twist of fate, the man she most feared of returning has, and he took one of her closest friends with him. Worse, an eerie silence has been left in the wake of Voldemort's return. Protecting Harry from himself is just as difficult as protecting him from Voldemort, and with grief closing in on her, she's afraid that maybe she isn't able to keep him out of harm's way after all.
Chapter One
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze.
The only people left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flower bed outside number four…and his annoying, overprotective sister who could not let him out of her sight for longer than an hour before she felt like he could be in some sort of danger she couldn't see.
Vanessa Potter was hidden in the oak tree behind 4 Privet Drive, watching her brother in the flower bed below. He knew she was there, of course, but they were running out of places to hide in the yard from their horrible aunt and uncle. As it was, the only way that either of them would be spotted was if they looked out of the kitchen window, directly down into the flower bush, or stood at the bottom of the tree and took a look up.
Watching her brother, she sighed unhappily. He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who had grown a lot in a short space of time. He'd had a growth spurt a few weeks after they'd returned to Privet Drive, and because their relatives enjoyed feeding them the absolute bare minimum, he did not quite fill out in his new height. Additionally, because they had taken their school trunks with all of their personal clothing, and they refused to buy them new clothes, he was dressed in jeans that were torn and dirty, a baggy and faded T-shirt, and trainers that had soles peeling from the uppers.
Not that she was much better herself; the shirt she wore was Dudley's and she'd always been petite in height so it dwarfed her from neck to knee. She'd been forced to bunch it in the back and tie a hair tie around it, shoving the bunched fabric up underneath the hem of the shirt. She wished she'd managed to figure out how to do the same with the neck of the shirt without looking like an idiot. The neck gaped on her and she had to keep looking down to make sure it hadn't fallen down to flash all of the neighbors by mistake. She'd been blessed in the chest department, but that didn't exactly mean that she wanted to be giving the neighbors a show. Of course, that might not be as bad as them seeing her in the pants that had also been Dudley's. Barely over five feet, she'd had to roll up the legs so many times that it felt like she was carrying weights on her legs, but — because she hadn't been so blessed and was flat as a board in the back — she looked even more ridiculous for the fact that she had to use two belts to get the material to stay at her waist without sliding down.
So, really, they both looked ridiculous, but that was her aunt's intention. At least with her. Aunt Petunia didn't like Harry much, but there was a special sort of hatred that she spared for Vanessa. With straight, auburn hair that flowed down her back and the same soft, pretty facial features that her mother had shared, her aunt seemed to take personal offense at her appearance. Her aunt had some enjoyment in dressing her in clothes that she believed would hinder her beauty. Seeing as her aunt had the face of a horse, she merely pretended like she didn't even care what she was dressed in. Even if it did look like she was wearing parachute pants that were six times her normal size.
So hiding really served two purposes; she got away from her relatives, but she also didn't need to show the judgy neighbors how ridiculously she was dressed.
Or perhaps three reasons. It also got her away from the insistent desire she had to watch the news. Her aunt and uncle were starting to believe she and Harry were intentionally trying to sabotage their relaxation time. It had nothing to do with that though — they were merely waiting for news about what was happening outside of their Muggle relatives' safe, precious, well-manicured home. They had had little to no contact from their friends since the summer had started, and they'd both been desperately trying to keep up with what was going on outside of their bubble.
It had been a rough summer, if she were being totally honest, but she was trying not to think about it.
Trying desperately not to think about how absolutely nothing had happened since Voldemort's return a few months previously. No disappearances, no unexplained water leaks or gas main explosions, no increase in murders, no strange accidents.
There had been nothing, and it was the anxiety of waiting and waiting and waiting that made her want to rip out chunks of her hair. And while Aunt Petunia might like her quite a bit better if she did, she had an odd attachment to her hair. It was very nice hair.
She did not know why there was nothing happening. What was the purpose of returning to power with the intention of taking over the country, just to sit back and do nothing? It put her on edge at all times of the day.
She watched her brother push himself to his knees — likely having learned nothing about what was going on in their world from the Muggle news blaring inside — and he began to move out from underneath the giant hydrangea bush. She sighed heavily, swinging down to the branch below her, deciding that it would likely be much cooler inside than it was out here. She'd only been out here to avoid wondering what Harry was doing, and though she expected that he knew this, he'd not griped when she'd snuck out with him and climbed the oak tree in the middle of the yard.
She'd made it halfway down when several things happened in very quick succession.
A loud, echoing crack broke the sleepy silence like a gunshot; a cat streaked out from under a parked car and flew out of sight; a shriek, a bellowed oath, and the sound of breaking china came from the Dursleys' living room, through the open kitchen window, and as though she had been waiting for this all her life, she flung herself backwards, pushing herself against the tree trunk behind her, and drew her wand as if it were a sword.
Her heart was pounding in her ears as she tried to keep her breathing as silent as possible as if someone might be able to hear her panicked breaths from this height.
She could see, out of the corner of her eye, her brother shooting up to his own feet with his wand in hand a moment before her Uncle's hands came through the window to grab at Harry's neck, likely panicked about the neighbor's seeing him brandishing a wand in broad daylight.
She didn't have the time to go down there and pitch a fit about them putting their hands on her brother. There were larger threats than Uncle Vernon out there, and she watched the street below with a sharp eye. There was no sign of what had caused the cracking noise, but it had sounded like…someone Apparating.
Hadn't it?
Or was she merely so desperate for news at this point that she was reading into everything?
Damned if she had any idea.
She jumped when she noticed movement and then sighed in relief; the neighbors were coming to their windows to see the source of the noise, peering out behind their thin drapes.
"Lovely evening!" she heard Uncle Vernon call from below. Mrs. Number Seven was eyeing him and her brother with a narrowed gaze as if they were to blame for the crack that had sounded. "Did you hear that car backfire just now? Gave Petunia and me quite a turn!"
She snorted, but waited several minutes for the neighbors to go back to their own business before she jumped down from the tree. She was quick to hurry toward her brother, who was being held by her uncle by the neck of his shirt.
"I didn't make that noise," Harry was saying when she walked up and ripped her brother's shirt from her uncle's grasp with a glare. Harry was still looking left and right up the street, hoping to see the person who had made the cracking noise.
"There's no one —" she started before gasping when her Aunt's thin, horsey face appeared beside Uncle Vernon's wide, purple one. She had to rear back in order to avoid their heads knocking together, which she was sure her aunt would somehow blame her for. She looked livid.
"Why were you lurking under our window?" she said to Harry before sneering at Vanessa. "And where did you come from?"
"Hell," Nessa said with an eye roll.
Her relatives didn't take well to jokes, but she was fairly certain that her aunt might actually believe that to be the truth about her.
"What were you doing under our window, boy?" Uncle Vernon said angrily when Harry didn't answer.
"Listening to the news," said Harry in a resigned voice.
Their aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage, as if he'd said they'd been smoking out in the yard.
"Listening to the news! Again?"
"Well, it changes every day, you see," said Harry. Nessa bit her lip to keep from laughing.
"Don't you be clever with me, boy! I want to know what you're really up to — and don't give me any more of this listening to the news tosh! You know perfectly well that your lot…"
"Careful, Vernon!" breathed Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon lowered his voice so that she could barely even hear him now.
"...that your lot don't get on our news!"
"That's all you know," said Harry.
Nessa stomped on his foot.
Much as she despised these people, the less they knew at this point, the better. The Dursleys goggled at him for a few seconds, then Aunt Petunia said, "You're a nasty little liar. What are all those —" she too lowered her voice so much that Nessa had to read her lips to know what she was saying " — owls — doing if they're not bringing you news?"
"Aha!" said Uncle Vernon in a triumphant whisper. "Get out of that one! As if we didn't know you get all your news from those pestilential birds!"
Nessa could tell that it would hurt her brother to admit that they weren't getting news from the owls that had been coming and going because their friends had told them next to nothing, so she said something instead.
"He isn't lying," she snapped at them. "Sirius Black was on your news and he's one of our lot. You wouldn't know our news from yours if it hit you in the face. And the owls aren't bringing us news."
They gaped at her like fish before they seemed to collectively gain their wits again.
"I don't believe it," said Aunt Petunia at once.
"No more do I," said Uncle Vernon forcefully.
"We know you're up to something funny," said Aunt Petunia.
"We're not stupid, you know," said Uncle Vernon.
"Well, that's news to me," said Harry, his temper rising, and before any of them could say anything, he had wheeled about, crossed the front lawn, stepped over the low garden wall, and was striding off up the street.
"Goddammit, Harry!" Nessa hissed, rushing after him.
They were going to be in trouble now and they both knew it, but that wasn't really her main concern. She had much more pressing things to worry about, which did include trying to get her brother to stop storming out of the house every time something set him off. Which, these days, was nearly everything.
For the first two weeks they'd been home, he'd been alright. As alright as someone who'd seen someone die in front of them could be anyway. But lately, he'd been…
Well, most of the time she didn't even recognize him anymore. Her brother had always been a bit of a hothead, but it normally took him quite a while to allow his temper to send him into a hurtful, angry tirade.
Truthfully, she'd always been the one that was a bit off the rails in terms of her temper.
Lately it was like they'd switched places overnight. She had no idea what to make of it.
Was this grief? Was it trauma? Was it denial?
She didn't know, and she didn't know how to bring it up either. Neither one of them really liked to talk about Cedric.
"Harry!" she said, catching up with him and pulling him to a stop. "Can you wait a minute? It's too hot for me to be running about."
"You could have stayed," he said angrily, moving away to storm back up the street.
"Funny, I was going to say the same to you," she snapped, immediately irritated.
Alright, so perhaps they hadn't swapped places then. They were just both now perpetually angry. At their relatives, at their friends, at each other. At the world, mostly, and the rest of them just took the brunt of it.
She walked after him, her irritation growing.
"We've talked about this, Harry!" she said angrily. "You can't just storm off every time you get angry! How am I supposed to know where you've gone?"
"Well, maybe I need some space from your constant badgering and protectiveness —"
She grabbed his arm and forced him to stop, pulling him backwards so hard that he stumbled, his eyes flaring in surprise.
"You listen to me, Harry James Potter," she snarled, poking him in the chest, hard. "I don't know who you think you're talking to, but one of us is crazy, and it's not you. I'm not getting any more information than you, so watch the way you talk to me or I will hex you into next week."
He blinked at her several times.
"You used my middle name," he said.
"You pissed me off," she said blandly. He snorted, running a hand through his hair.
He didn't apologize, but he slowed his pace, letting her walk beside him without complaint. They walked on silently, hardly noticing the route they were taking. They'd walked these streets so often lately that their feet carried them to their favorite haunts automatically.
Eventually, Harry spoke.
"It had to be someone Apparating or Disapparating, right?"
"I think so," she said, suddenly exhausted. "It certainly wasn't a car backfiring."
Except if it had been someone Apparating or Disapparating, why hadn't they made contact? Why were they hiding?
Unless they were hiding because it was a Death Eater and they were keeping tabs, in which case, she really felt like they shouldn't be so out in the open. Looking behind her anxiously, she wished she knew how to tell if someone was trailing them.
She had a lot to learn if she expected to protect her brother.
"You're turning into a real nutcase, you know," Harry said beside her. She scoffed, pushing him away from her.
"I love you too, Harry," she said.
They lapsed into silence again, and she didn't need to ask what he was thinking about to know that it was the same thing as she was.
He'd been particularly frustrated this summer. She'd tried keeping him positive, but there was something hopeless and lonely about being on Privet Drive rather than in their own world. Away from magic, with only the Daily Prophet as news, it felt like they were walking in a world that didn't belong to them.
And the Daily Prophet was not much help. She didn't even really read them anymore. Fudge had clearly worked his magic on the newspaper and that's all she'd needed to know.
If they'd thought they'd get any additional news from their friends, they'd been wrong. They'd been told not to say anything important in case their letters were intercepted, but that really only added to their feeling of hopelessness.
Harry, in particular, had a difficult time coming to terms with getting no news. He felt — whether rightfully or unrightfully so — that he deserved, out of all of them, to know what was happening outside their Muggle abode. He'd been the one to fight Voldemort off. He'd been the one to bring back Cedric's body. He'd been the one entered into a tournament that he'd not even wanted to participate in.
He'd proven himself, as far as he was concerned, and now he was being treated like a child.
It was hard for Nessa to reconcile that he both simultaneously was and wasn't a child anymore. While she'd also been very irritated by the lack of news from their friends, she understood not putting information at risk.
It didn't help that Hermione and Ron were clearly together, but Harry was still stuck at Privet Drive…a place they both loathed. Dumbledore had insisted they come back to Privet Drive for a little while before the Weasleys could take them both, for reasons he had not specified.
Again, very annoying.
But it had been over a month now and they were still with their horrific relatives, who were no better this summer than they had been any year before. Harry's irritation that Ron and Hermione were having fun or keeping busy while he was hiding underneath windows to catch any scrap of news that he could, had led him to throw out the Honeydukes chocolate that they had given him for his birthday without even opening it.
Nessa had heard all of it. One hundred times. And she'd attempted to help Harry work through all of it, but she wasn't in any better a place than he was, so it really just fell flat.
They turned a corner into Magnolia Crescent; halfway along they passed the narrow alleyway that Harry had first spotted Sirius. Sirius' letters were at least helpful in that he acknowledged how Harry must be feeling. They didn't provide them any news, but the acknowledgement seemed to calm Harry some.
As far as godfathers went though, Nessa had not heard from hers much, which she tried not to think about. Whatever he was doing, Sirius would have told her if Remus had been murdered. She knew that for certain.
Harry led the way toward the darkening play park. It was closed but he vaulted over the locked gate, and waited in amusement as she climbed over it.
"Shut up," she griped when she landed beside him. "Not all of us were blessed with your height. And I can't go anywhere in these ridiculous pants."
He sniggered. He was average height for someone his age, and Ron and the twins were taller than him, but seeing as he was at least five inches taller than her now, she didn't care.
"I could throw you from the house, and I bet those pants would save you from the fall."
"You're very annoying," she said.
He laughed as they walked across the parched grass. The park was as empty as the surrounding streets. When they reached the swings, they played rock-paper-scissors to see which of them would get to swing first. There was only one swing left in working condition — Dudley and his friends had broken all the rest.
Harry won, and she swore, curling a hand around the pole of the swingset as he took a seat on the swing, curling his hand around the metal coil, and staring at the ground morosely.
She watched him for several minutes before sighing.
"Harry, you can't keep doing this," she said. He gave her an irritated look.
"I'm not doing anything —"
"You're pouting."
"I am not pouting," he said, scowling at her. "I'm brooding."
"What difference does it make?"
"It makes all the difference," he scoffed. "Brooding is how men pout."
"That's the stupidest thing you have ever said to me," she said seriously. "Brooding, pouting, moping, whatever you want to call it…it doesn't help you."
"Neither does sitting here every day," he snapped. "Does it not irritate you? To be away from news when all of our friends are together, staying busy, helping to fight —"
"They aren't helping to fight," Nessa snorted. "Mrs. Weasley would sooner kill Voldemort herself before she let any of them fight before they graduated Hogwarts. And my friends live together so they're always having fun without me over the summer."
Harry stared at her.
"That's depressing to think about."
"So don't think about it," she said with an eye roll. "It isn't their fault —"
"I know that!" Harry said in frustration. "But it's not fair, Vanessa! I'm the one who had to fight him — they wouldn't even know he was back if it wasn't for me! And I'm supposed to sit here with no news, trying not to write to the Daily Prophet to tell them that Voldemort has returned because you say it would be a waste of time —"
"It would be," she said, but he ignored her.
"Or I can just sit around and wait to go to sleep every night where I dream about some long dark corridors that all come to dead ends or dream about watching Ced —"
He stopped immediately when she winced, looking away from him. She hadn't asked for specifics and he hadn't offered her any, but any time the subject came up, they both fell silent.
It was too painful for him to talk about because he'd witnessed it, and too painful for her because he'd been her friend. One of very few in her world because she liked keeping her circle small.
Except after he'd died, all she could think about was that she kept her circle so small that she had the potential to lose everyone she loved in one fell swoop.
Which she also tried not to think about.
"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I just hate being useless. I can't even tell them about the dreams or how my scar hurts because they'll just say that my scar is likely going to hurt more now that Voldemort is back. It's old news. Just like me."
She looked back at him and sighed.
"You aren't old news, Harry," she said. "You know they care about you. You're just frustrated and confused, and we've been on edge every day that nothing happens. I know you want to do something, but maybe we should be glad that there's nothing to do right now."
"Yeah, but why?" he said, looking at her as if she had the answer.
"Well, how should I know?" she said defensively. He gave her an impatient look.
"You psychoanalyze people for fun, Vanessa," he deadpanned. "You've thought about it. If you were Voldemort, why would you be doing nothing?"
Why indeed?
It didn't make much sense to her. He'd wanted this for so long…had waited for so many years that he had to have considered what it would be like to return to power. And yet there had been nothing at all since the tournament. Except…
Well, except for the papers.
She sighed, turning back to meet the eyes of her brother.
"Because he doesn't have to," she said eventually. When he gave her a confused look, she said, "He needs to build his allies…his army, right? But he also needs to sow discord among the masses. Building his army would happen behind the scenes if he's smart. More surprise that way, especially considering he's done all of this before. Dumbledore has seen it all before. He's got to play this smart. So he sows discord instead…tries to undermine the people who are powerful enough and willing enough to fight him. You and Dumbledore. The two of you are the beacons of hope against him. If he can undermine you two then people will be less willing to stand against him."
"So why doesn't he —?" Harry paused and then scoffed. "Because Fudge is already doing that for him."
"Right," she said, feeling a wave of rage toward the Minister of Magic. He was on her shitlist. "So he could stand by and let that happen. Let us all tear each other apart over whether or not he's back…or he can come out now and make it obvious that he is. And everyone will immediately choose a side to fight on. He gains more by staying silent. By the time he's made himself obvious, he'll have expanded his army and be midway through his plan, and we'll be…just getting started on ours."
There was a long silence as a sultry, velvety night fell around them, the air full of the smell of warm, dry grass, and the only noise that of the low, grumbling traffic on the road beyond the park railings.
"Well, that's…bleak," Harry said eventually. She snorted.
"You asked," she said. "I answered."
"Except now I sort of wish that I hadn't," he muttered to himself.
She could have told him that. But if that's really what Voldemort was doing, it was a good plan. He exerted no effort at all and could focus on things that would help him maintain the power he so desperately craved.
It didn't make her feel all the better about being stuck in this place with no magical protection at all.
She had no idea how long they had sat there, lost in their own musings, when the sound of voices and laughter pulled them from their thoughts. The streetlights from the surrounding roads were casting a misty glow strong enough to silhouette a group of people making their way across the park. One of them was singing a loud, crude song. The others were laughing. A soft, ticking noise came from several expensive racing bikes that they were wheeling along.
She knew who those people were without needing them to come any closer. The figure in front was unmistakably their cousin, Dudley, wending his way home, accompanied by his faithful gang.
Dudley was as vast as ever, but a year's hard dieting and the discovery of a new talent had wrought quite a change in his physique. As Uncle Vernon delightedly told anyone who would listen, Dudley had recently become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast. "The noble sport", as Uncle Vernon called it, had made Dudley even more formidable than he had seemed in primary school when they had served as Dudley's punching bags. She was no longer afraid of Dudley — and neither was Harry — but she did not in any way believe that his learning to punch harder and more accurately was cause for celebration. Neighborhood children all around were terrified of him — even more terrified than they were of "those Potter siblings", who, they had been warned, were either a hardened hooligan who attended St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys (Harry) or a raving lunatic who attended Bedlam Hospital for being a dangerous narcissist (Nessa).
Her aunt and uncle were so ashamed that they were a spot on their abysmally normal lives that they'd made up such wild stories about the two of them, but it seriously confused Nessa all the same.
Was it not less normal to house a criminal and a mentally ill person under their roof than if they'd simply told them that they sent them off to boarding school?
At any rate, she watched as the dark figures crossed the grass and prayed that they wouldn't notice her or Harry standing there by the swings. If they saw them, his friends would make a beeline for them, and there was little Dudley could do if they did. He wouldn't want to lose face in front of his friends, but he'd be terrified of provoking either of them. It was a little amusing to think about, but not really worth the lecture they'd get upon coming home. Or the warning they'd get from the Ministry.
At least not to her, but looking at Harry, she half suspected that he was tempted to incite their rage on purpose. His eyes were following them with a precision that bordered on psychotic, and his fists were clenched, one of his hands moving to his wand.
What the hell was wrong with him anymore?
"Whatever you're thinking about doing," she muttered out of the side of her mouth. "Don't."
"Why?" he said angrily. "Because I'm supposed to be a good little boy?"
Nessa could have throttled him, but any sudden movement would have attracted her idiot cousin and his friends, so she waited until their voices faded before she rounded on her brother.
"Look, I understand you being upset with Ron and Hermione," she said. "Mostly. But Sirius is looking out for you. That's his job —"
"You argue with Sirius more than anyone else I know —"
"Yes, well, sometimes I might not agree with his approach to things, but I'm not stupid enough to think that he doesn't care about you," she said, watching him stand and stretch.
"You don't think it's a bit hypocritical of him to tell me not to do anything rash when he escaped Azkaban after twelve years just to kill an old school friend?"
She stared at him for a long moment.
"Harry, if you're expecting me to change my mind about this based on that logic then I really don't know how to help you," she said. "That's like if I decided to pick a fight with Dudley because Tori told me not to, but she dunked a girl's retainer in the toilet once and then put it back in her mouth."
"She did that?' he said, disgusted. She rolled her eyes, refusing to elaborate. Her best friend had not taken lightly to people bullying her when the Chamber had been opened, but she didn't think that telling Harry that story would help her cause. "Anyway, Tori wouldn't tell you not to fight Dudley. If anything, she'd swing first."
She didn't argue with that statement. Mostly because she couldn't, and she didn't want to get into why it was a bad idea to pick a fight with Dudley. Anyway, they needed to be home by the time that Dudley was. Their aunt and uncle seemed to feel that whenever Dudley turned up was the right time to be home, and anytime after that was much too late. Uncle Vernon had threatened to lock Harry in the shed if he came home after Dudley again, and Nessa had no interest in finding out if that were true. So, they set off toward the park gate, Harry still scowling.
Magnolia Road, like Privet Drive, was full of large, square houses with perfectly manicured lawns, all owned by large, square owners who drove very clean cars similar to Uncle Vernon's. She and her brother preferred Little Whinging by night, when the curtains were closed and they had no danger of hearing disapproving mutters about their grungy appearance when they passed. They walked quickly, so that halfway along Magnolia Road Dudley's gang came into view again; they were saying their farewells at the entrance of Magnolia Crescent. Harry pulled her into the shadow of a large lilac tree to wait them out.
"...squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcolm was saying, to guffaws from the others. Nessa found them all disgusting.
"Nice right hook, Big D," said Piers.
"Same time tomorrow?" said Dudley.
"Bye, Dud!"
"See ya, Big D!"
They waited for the rest of the gang to move on before setting off again. When their voices had faded once more, they headed around the corner into Magnolia Crescent and Harry picked up his pace. She shot him a curious glance, but then noticed how quickly Dudley had come into view.
"Harry, don't —"
"Hey, Big D!"
Nessa swore violently as Dudley turned.
"Oh," he grunted. "It's you."
"How long have you been 'Big D' then?" said Harry.
It was the way that she wanted to kill him and protect him all at the same time. Was there a way a person could do both?
"Shut it," snarled Dudley, turning away again.
"Cool name," said Harry, grinning and falling into step beside their cousin. Nessa purposely stepped on the heel of his shoe, but Harry ignored her. "But you'll always be Ickle Diddykins to me."
"I said, SHUT IT!" said Dudbley, whose ham-like hands had curled into fists.
"Don't the boys know that's what your mum calls you?"
"Shut your face."
"You don't tell her to shut her face. What about 'popkin' and 'Dinky Diddy-dums,' can I use them then?"
Her brother clearly wanted a fight, but she had no idea what in the hell for. Maybe he'd just been gearing up for one anyway or his frustration was merely boiling over, but she felt like this was a horrible idea. Sure, they had to be back at the same time as Dudley, but they could have done that without picking a fight. They could have walked side by side in silence.
But, no, of course not.
Dudley said nothing. The effort of keeping himself from hitting Harry seemed to be demanding all of his self-control.
"So, who've you been beating up tonight?" Harry asked, his grin fading. "Another ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago —"
"He was asking for it," snarled Dudley.
That got Nessa's attention because she couldn't not say something when he said something so ridiculous. She despised bullies.
And, clearly, she was no better than Harry.
"He's five years younger than you," she snapped. "If you need to beat up children to feel like a man then perhaps you aren't ready to be one."
"He cheeked me," Dudley said as if this were answer to everything. She nearly tripped him on purpose.
"Yeah?" said Harry. "Did he say you look like a pig that's been taught to walk on its hind legs? Cause that's not cheek, Dud, that's true…"
A muscle was twitching in Dudley's jaw. It clearly gave Harry a great deal of satisfaction based on his smirk, but she rolled her eyes at him. He was merely siphoning off his own frustration into his cousin, the only outlet he really had.
They turned right down the narrow alleyway where Harry had first seen Sirius and which formed a shortcut between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. It was empty and much darker than the streets it linked because there were no streetlamps. Nessa hated walking this alley at night, and she shoved herself between Dudley and Harry. Their footsteps were muffled between garage walls on one side and a high fence on the other.
"Think you're a big man carrying that thing, don't you?" Dudley said after a few seconds.
"What thing?" Harry said lightly.
"That — that thing you're hiding."
Harry grinned again.
"Not as stupid as you look, are you, Dud? But I s'pose if you were, you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time…"
Harry pulled out his wand. She saw Dudley look sideways at it. She had no idea what her brother was doing, but she sincerely hoped that it was nothing stupid.
"You're not allowed," Dudley said at once. "I know you're not. You'd get expelled from that freak school you go to."
"How d'you know they haven't changed the rules, Big D?"
"They haven't," said Dudley, though he didn't sound completely convinced. Harry laughed softly. "You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have you?" Dudley snarled.
"Whereas you just need four mates behind you before you can beat up a ten-year-old. You know that boxing title you keep banging on about? How old was your opponent? Seven? Eight?"
"He was sixteen for your information," snarled Dudley, "and he was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him and he was twice as heavy as you —"
"Really, boys, the testosterone is suffocating me," Nessa drawled finally, feeling distinctly annoyed with the both of them. "Can the two of you shut the hell up before I lose my brain cells?"
"Wait until I tell Dad you had that thing out —"
Nessa wanted to bash their heads together for the sake of it. That was clearly the caveman act they were going for, and it would be a lot faster if she just did it herself.
"Running to Daddy now, are you?" said Harry. "Is his ickle boxing champ frightened of nasty Harry's wand?"
"Not this brave at night, are you?" sneered Dudley.
"This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this."
"I mean when you're in bed!" Dudley snarled.
He had stopped walking. Harry stopped walking too, staring at his cousin. Nessa stood between them in case Harry tried something stupid. She seriously wished she'd just let him get locked in a closet at this point. From what little she could see of Dudley's large face, he was wearing a strangely triumphant expression.
"What d'you mean, I'm not brave in bed?" said Harry, completely nonplussed. "What — am I supposed to be frightened of pillows or something?"
"I heard you last night," said Dudley breathlessly. "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."
Nessa felt a cold, plunging sensation in her stomach. She knew for a fact that Harry had had a nightmare last night. They used to share a bed because their relatives refused to buy them two, but they'd taken turns sleeping on the floor or on the bed. Harry had become a violent sleeper since the summer before, and it wasn't comfortable to share anymore. They hardly had room when they did share, and with the nightmares it was next to impossible.
She'd slept on the floor last night, but she'd heard him tossing in his sleep and saying Cedric's name.
"What d'you mean?" Harry said, but she could tell by his voice that he knew what Dudley was talking about.
Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter then adopted a high-pitched, whimpering voice. "Don't kill Cedric! Don't kill Cedric! Who's Cedric — your boyfriend?"
"Dudley, shut the hell up," Nessa warned. Dudley did not shut up.
"Dad! Help me, Dad! He's going to kill me, Dad! Boo-hoo!"
"Shut up," Harry said quietly. "Shut up, Dudley, I'm warning you!"
"Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! He's killed Cedric! Dad, help me! He's going to — Don't you point that thing at me!"
"Harry!" Nessa shouted, being knocked to the side as her brother lunged. Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand directly at Dudley's heart. The look of hatred on her brother's face was alarming. She shot forward, trying to pull her brother's wrist away from him.
"Harry, stop, he's just an idiot," she said sharply. "He doesn't know what he's talking about —"
Harry ignored her.
"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry snarled. "D'you understand me?"
"Point that thing somewhere else!" Dudley shouted.
"I said, do you understand me?"
"Point it somewhere else!"
"Harry, put it down!"
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
"HARRY! CALM THE HELL DOWN!"
"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM —"
Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water. Nessa froze in place, her hand still wrapped around Harry's wrist. Harry froze with her, his wand hand going still where it was pointed at Dudley's chest.
Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch-black and lightless — the stars, the moon, the misty steetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant grumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold.
They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.
"Harry….that wasn't you, was it?" she said slowly, pulling her wand out of her pocket.
"No, I — the stars are gone," he said from beside her.
She couldn't see a damned thing, but she knew her brother had no power to turn off the stars. She tried to look left and right, attempting to see anything through the darkness that was pressing against her eyes like a weightless veil.
Dudley's terrified voice broke the eerie silence.
"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"
"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"
"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I —"
"I said shut up!"
"Don't yell at him, Harry! He doesn't understand —"
There was a sudden cold so intense that she was shivering all over; goosebumps erupting up her arms, and the hairs on her arms and neck standing up.
No, it was impossible. There was no way it was what she thought it was because why would they be in Little Whinging? For what? Had they already switched sides? Did they now serve Voldemort?
"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do —?"
"Dudley, stop talking!" Nessa whispered harshly. "If you want to live, just stop talk —"
But she'd heard it. There was something else in the alleyway apart from them, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. There was a horrible jolt of dread in her stomach, and her hand tightened around Harry's wrist.
This was not good. This was so not good.
"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"
"Dudley, shut —"
WHAM!
He'd missed Harry, but he'd hit her, sending her off her feet. The fist had landed on the side of her head, and small white lights popped in front of her eyes. She stumbled back so hard that she knocked Harry back with her. They landed hard on the ground, and she heard Harry's wand rolling across pavement.
Even with her head feeling like it had been cleaved in two, she knew that was very, very bad. He was the only one of them that knew how to fight them off.
"You moron, Dudley!" Harry yelled beside her, scrambling to his hands and knees, now feeling frantically in the blackness. She heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling.
She swore viciously, standing and trying to keep her bearings about her when her head was spinning. God, he really did have a mean right hook.
"Lumos!" she shouted.
Thankfully, the light pierced the darkness around her, and she went running after her stupid cousin. He was a Muggle — he wouldn't be able to see it at all and —
"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"
Son of a bitch.
That meant she was running right at it. She couldn't exactly stop though, could she? Dudley had no idea what the hell he was doing, and she didn't want to know what her aunt and uncle would do if Dudley ended up being attacked by a dementor. Although, maybe it was stupid of her to do this anyway. She had no way to fight it. The only person who knew how was frantically searching for his wand on the ground.
There was a horrible squealing yell, and Dudley's footsteps stopped.
She was using the wall for support, moving her wand around in an attempt to pierce the alley. There was a creeping chill from behind her, which could only mean there was more than one.
SON OF A BITCH.
"DUDLEY KEEP YOUR MOUTH CLOSED!" she shouted into the darkness.
She needn't have bothered. A moment later, she saw them. Dudley had fallen to the ground, his hands covering his face. A pair of gray, slimy, scabbed hands slid from beneath the robes of a dementor, reaching forward to pull Dudley's hands away from his face.
She'd forgotten how horrible they looked. It was taller than anything she'd ever seen, hovering over the ground in robes of a gnarled, woolen black cloth, no feet or face visible, and that horrible sucking noise permeating the air around the alleyway.
She could hear Harry fighting to cast a Patronus behind her, but she didn't want the thing in front of her anywhere near Dudley. If he couldn't see it, did that mean that it would be easier to suck his soul out?
She didn't really want to find out. Particularly because the moron had his mouth wide open in a silent scream of terror.
"HEY!" she yelled across the alley, pushing herself away from the wall and trying not to be sick as her head turned over. The dementor ignored her completely, moving to hover over Dudley. She swore under her breath, looking around her for —
A rock.
She bent to pick it up and chucked it at the thing. It hit it directly in the head. Her entire breath stalled when its head shot in her direction without a sound, as if it had absolutely no neck to speak of.
"Great job, Vanessa," she muttered to herself, panicking as she took a step back. "Piss it off. That's a great plan, you stupid —"
She screamed when it flew toward her, but then clamped her mouth shut immediately. Everything in her wanted to fight as it lifted her from the ground by her throat with its slimy, scabby hands. She wanted to open her mouth and gag, but she kept her mouth clamped shut, squeezing her eyes shut as it leaned over her.
God, it smelled horrible too.
Like something dark and rotting.
She did fight, kicking out at it desperately, when it used it's hand to clamp down on her windpipe, trying to force her to take a breath.
She would not, she would not, she would not —
"LILY, TAKE NESSA AND HARRY AND RUN!"
Oh, Jesus, not this again.
She had to breathe, had to breathe.
Her mouth opened to inhale air and it swooped over her immediately, and her entire body went rigid as it took in a deep inhale. It was like it was pulling something from deep within her, the chill getting worse around her insides. She tried to close her mouth again, but there was no way now —
"NESSA? DUDLEY?"
There was a rushing, roaring sound, and a silver stag went galloping down the alleyway, its antlers catching the dementor in the side and sending it flying into the air as if it were weightless. She went plummeting to the ground, groaning as she hit the concrete below her. Harry came skidding to a halt in front of her.
"Nessa, are you —"
"Fine," she gasped, trying to pull breaths back in through her mouth as if she'd been denied them. "Fine. Check Dudley."
Harry hesitated, but went running for Dudley, who was still curled in a ball on the ground. Truthfully, she felt like shit. Like she might hurl. Her entire body was heavy, her head throbbed, her breaths hurt, and she was pretty sure her throat was going to bruise. And she'd nearly just had her soul sucked out.
Yep, definitely going to —
She lunged sideways, retching loudly. There were pros to being starved, and it was the fact that nothing came up, but she retched until her throat burned anyway.
God, those things….
"Nessa, I knew you weren't alright," Harry said, annoyed. He was kneeling in front of her. "What were you thinking? It could have killed you."
She leaned back to rest her head against the garage wall behind her and closed her eyes.
"Wouldn't have killed me," she said.
"Yeah, you'd just be a breathing mass of nothing," Harry said angrily. "That's much better."
"He couldn't see it," she said, looking up at the sky.
Moon, stars, and streetlamps had burst back into life. A warm breeze swept over the alleyway. Trees rustled in neighboring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again. She was drenched in sweat, which made absolutely no sense because it had been so cold, but one look at Harry told her he was too.
He scowled, reaching out for her face. She hissed and jerked back when he touched the place Dudley had hit her.
"I'll fucking kill him," Harry said angrily.
"Watch your mouth," she said automatically, letting him pull her to a stand. Harry snorted.
"Are you really going to tell me that?"
"Yes," she said, using the wall to walk her way toward Dudley, who was still curled up and shaking on the ground. "It's my job. He's in shock."
"Yeah, I don't imagine how he wouldn't be," Harry deadpanned. "He's still an idiot. He could have gotten himself killed. What do you think they were doing in —"
There were loud, running footsteps behind them. Instinctively, they both whirled around, raising their wands at the intruder. Nessa's world spun, but she held steady as the face came into view. Harry swore under his breath, shoving her hand down and trying to hide his own wand. He'd clearly recognized them before she had and when her world stopped spinning, she could see why.
It was their batty old neighbor, Mrs. Figg. Her grizzled hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist, and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers.
"Don't put them away, idiots!" Mrs. Figg shrieked. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"