Fanfiction

Harry Potter and the Eye of Power--by Berilac

Title: Harry Potter 6--Chapter 2
Author: Berilac
Rating: PG

Summary: Despite the fact that the Ministry of Magic now believes Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore's stories about Lord Voldemort returning to power to be true, things appear to be getting not better-- but complicatedly worse. During his summer months, Harry is more than isolated from the wizarding world than he was before and the dreams that haunted him last year return with a vengeance. They intensify, replicating tragic events from the prior year and adding things that hadn't happened. Frightening things. Unthinkable things...

Not only are Harry's dreams becoming problematic, but it appears that someone (one can only guess who) really wants Harry out of the way. Constant surprises and horrendous occurrences ensue during the next year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A hidden power is revealed to be somewhere-- but the somewhere is unknown. And even with Voldemort continually festering for this special power-- searching for it while reeking subtle havoc everywhere else-- Harry has to try and overcome his current fears at school. He has to find what he is really capable of academically. He also has to realize how emotionally capable he is while he is trying to control and master his greatest fears...

Not to mention this power is huge enough to put an end to Harry and even the whole of Hogwarts-- power huge enough to completely alter the face of the planet. And this power is closer to Harry than he realizes.

Chapter 2: Aunt Petunia's Guilty Secret

Two more days passed with Harry churning his way through the unbearable everyday routine. He had finally sent out his letter to Mad-Eye Moody and company, telling him that things were going fine as usual and that he had received his O.W.L.s. As a postscript, he decided to tell them his results....

The night after he had sent the okay-owl, Harry began to get horribly restless. The long walks that he had been prone to take each evening had lost their appeal. He had been doing them night after night...and all the excitement that was there was limited. He would follow Dudley, who would be off as usual with his friends replicating his excuses from the year before, pretending that he was having tea with his friends’ families. Harry would stalk Dudley until he met up with his cronies at the park, to do God-knows-what before dusk smothered the area.

Watching them smoking incessantly and beating up the unsuspecting younger kids relentlessly was not what Harry wanted to witness. So he would always return back to the Dursleys quite early and pretend to be tired and head to his room.

His Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia soon began to notice Harry's odd behavior in the evenings. They both didn't really complain, although from time to time, Uncle Vernon became suspicious.

"Why's he acting tired all the time?" he would say uncertainly without his usual snarl, his eyes still squinting mistrustfully. "If he's up to something, I will intend to figure out what he's in fact doing...."

That night however, his aunt and uncle both cast Harry's casual turn-in time away like an annoying advertisement in the mail. Neither of them flinched as Harry told them both he was turning in for the night. Aunt Petunia was too engrossed in cleaning the dishes (and peeking across the fence into her neighbor's yard), and Uncle Vernon was staring blankly at the television, his eyes drooping slowly.

Harry felt this as an added bonus and dashed into his room and locked the door. He stood there, enraptured by the faint darkness. Dusk was almost at hand and all the houses were shadowed underneath the bright streetlamps. After a few minutes, Harry slowly ambled over to the window and peered out. He could seethe enormous silhouette of Dudley, surrounded by his peers. Even though his window was shut, Harry could hear them laughing loudly about something, no doubt about what they had done to an unsuspecting kid in a dark alleyway....

As Harry was about to turn around and call it a night, a small figure with wings approached his window. Another owl! He quickly opened the window and stood back to let it enter. It was Hedwig.

"What have you got there?" Harry asked excitedly, more excited than he had felt when he had opened his O.W.L. results.

Hedwig hooted happily at him and held out her legs, where an envelope was tied neatly to them. He untied the envelope and placed Hedwig in her cage.
"I was wondering when you'd be back," Harry said. Hedwig had left the same day he had received his O.W.L.s.

After releasing the letter from its bindings, Harry unrolled the piece of parchment and his insides gave a sudden jolt. The note was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,
I hope you're doing fine over there. I also hope your aunt and uncle have been nice enough to you while we've all been away. I'm terribly sorry that Ron and I have been neglecting to write to you, but something strange has happened over the past month, which has stopped us from mailing you to see what's up. Ever since Fudge and the Ministry realized that Voldemort really was back in full force, they have become extremely paranoid. There are restrictions for everything in the wizarding world now. Ron told me about it in the one lone note he has written to me at the end of June. There's been a strong restriction on sending owls out between people especially. Only one owl is allowed per family a month and I was hoping to wait until your birthday to send you this note...(I'm only one day off!)...but I felt you had to get this as soon as possible!
Have you been following the Daily Prophet? Not much has happened in the Muggle world that corresponds with the wizarding one, but Ron said that his father thinks that won't be for long. Voldemort is now back in full power...the Ministry is watching every single crack and every little nook that might spell Death Eater or rebellion. Paranoia is certainly amok. I hope it subsides a smidgen...it must be a real pain for you over there.
Well, that's about it for me. I'm almost as out-of-the-loop as you are! I'm glad that you haven't bothered to send letters to us...you would have gotten into some major trouble with the Ministry if you exceeded the limitations.
Hopefully, I'll get to see you before we have to meet on the Hogwarts Express! Ron's mum is considering taking you from your aunt and uncle to live with them for a week or so before term begins. Maybe we'll meet up in Diagon Alley.
Talk to you soon.

Love from,
Hermione

P.S. I got my O.W.L. scores! I can't believe I forgot to tell you! I got 10 O.W.L.s—passed them all. I'm really excited! How did you do? Ron hasn't told me his scores yet....

Harry looked up outside at the sky. Restrictions on owl post? He couldn't believe it, not even with Hermione's words right in front of him. There are more restrictions than this.... What else did the Ministry ban...what else did the Fudge pass to make it more safe for both wizards and Muggles?

Another question quickly popped into Harry's already disheveled head: How come he hadn't been warned by the Ministry about the post restriction, and why wasn't he punished for the numerous notes he had already written a month? Why didn't Moody or someone else from the Order notify him?

A twinge of aggravation coursed through Harry as he rolled up Hermione's letter. He wished he could have felt gratitude for Hermione's excellent O.W.L. grades and the fact that she was almost in the same boat as he was, but the fact that the Ministry of Magic had transformed from being completely blind to Voldemort's return to being paranoid of what he might do was too believable that the irking realization cut deep.

And what about Dumbledore...? Why hadn't he notified Harry of this? Did Dumbledore realize from last year that not telling Harry important facts would lead to possible catastrophe?

Perhaps Dumbledore could not write to Harry at all...maybe there were fiercer restrictions placed on those higher in authority. But that was stupid...because if that were so, then Harry would not have been able to send out so many letters to the Order on how his aunt and uncle were treating him....

Thoughts and irritations flooded inside Harry so much that a throbbing pulse began to thump horribly in his brain. The headache was too much for Harry...he collapsed onto his bed, the pain reaching his scar and thumping so hard that he banged his head against the wall.

And then-

"Potter! Get down here this instant," the booming voice of Uncle Vernon roared from below. After a few seconds came a very forced: "Please..."

Wondering what on earth he had done, Harry unlocked his door and slowly ambled downstairs to where he had heard his uncle's voice. All three of the Dursleys were standing in the kitchen. Dudley must have just returned home, shaking off his friends before approaching too close to the house.

"Good, now that you've made it..." Uncle Vernon's face was turning a deep puce and his mustache was quivering irritably. "...I can let you in on what will be happening the next few days."

Harry stood there confused as to what his uncle was trying to say. Aunt Petunia was chewing her lower lip, seemingly apprehensive. Dudley stood there blocky and dazed, his mind still complexly harped upon the intricate job of bullying to really pay much attention to the conversation. Harry felt slightly relieved at viewing Dudley; if he were in trouble, Dudley would have been paying rapt attention, giddily awaiting Harry's punishment.

"And what will be happening?" Harry finally managed to say.

"Well," Uncle Vernon gave a huge sigh. "It appears that the three of us will be going away for a little while. I have some vacation time I haven't used, so we will be taking a small trip to Majorca."

"Ah," Harry replied softly. "So, when are you leaving-?" (He knew perfectly well that he wouldn't be going anywhere with the three of them....)

"In two days..." Uncle Vernon said tetchily, as if Harry's questions were too painstaking to reply to. "We were considering letting you stay here a bit while we were away...but...." he hesitated extensively at that moment, his forehead breaking out in a sudden sweat. Harry realized that his uncle was trying not to make it seem as if he were mistreating Harry in any way. "But...but..."

"But what..." Harry beckoned for Uncle Vernon to continue. Uncle Vernon flinched at Harry's voice and narrowed his eyes. "If you thought that you'd have gotten the run of the house, well, you were dead wr-" He paused in mid sentence once again. "Er-well-how about...staying at Mrs.-Figg's?"

Harry blanched at what Uncle Vernon had just said and frowned slightly.

"Aha! I knew you'd be thinking you'd have the run of this place," Uncle Vernon smiled wickedly. "However, I don't fancy returning to my house in ruins!" You will-"

Aunt Petunia shot Uncle Vernon a warning stare so fierce, that he noticed it immediately and stop baiting Harry further.

"Y-your uncle and I feel it is-it is best that you do stay with Mrs. Figg," Aunt Petunia said shakily with an unmistakable apprehension.

With these words, which emitted no sense of finality whatsoever, Harry tried to force a suppressed groan, although inside he knew that being with Mrs. Figg for a few days wouldn't be half-bad. The year before, Harry had come to the realization that his neighbor was actually a Squib who had been keeping an eye on Harry ever since he was one year old and landed on the Dursleys' doorstep.

"Don't cause Mrs. Figg too much aggravation though!" Aunt Petunia added, her eyes narrowing as if thinking Harry was plotting something devious to do to her.

"I-I won't-" Harry said unconvincingly. He turned around to head on upstairs when Uncle Vernon's loud voice made him stop.

"Come back here, boy!"

Aunt Petunia coughed loudly. Uncle Vernon looked at her. She was giving him the most piercing stare that Harry had ever seen in his entire life. Uncle Vernon got the picture and continued uncomposedly.

"Er-will you-er-please-"this time the "please" came out of Uncle Vernon so forcefully that his voice squeaked terribly like a dying mouse. "-will you please-er-come back? We aren't-finished telling you w-what we are-er-doing."

Harry returned to where he had stood before, his vivid green eyes staring directly back at his Uncle Vernon's.

"Your aunt and I, as well as Dudley, have to-er-make a small stop to get something before we leave. Tomorrow will-er-be busy for us so we can't go then."

The statement had no effect on Harry. He continued to stand and stare.

"And while we are away you will be locked in your room and make no noise!" Uncle Vernon snarled.

Aunt Petunia coughed even louder after Uncle Vernon said this.

"We won't be gone long, Harry," she said in a sickly sweet simper. "Please stay in your own room. I am reorganizing a few things in my room-as well as a few things in the attic." She said the last half of her sentence rather quickly, causing Harry's eyes to rest upon her for a moment. She looked hurriedly away from his steady gaze, a faint flush staining her cheeks.

What things, he wondered suddenly.

"Okay," Harry replied calmly. "That's fine. I was about to go to bed anyway...."

He turned once again to head upstairs. This time, no one stopped him. He reached his room and sat in the rotten chair next to his bed. A few minutes passed after he had sat down, then the slam of a door and the booming voice of his uncle resounded loudly outside. Then, after a few overly vociferous comments about Majorca, the Dursleys all got in their car and drove off.

And when he could hear their car no more, Harry shot straight up and bounded out of his room....

Aunt Petunia's comment sparked something inside of Harry, an investigative something. What was she reorganizing in her room that could make her look so guilty? He had to go and see for himself what she was hiding....

He reached his aunt and uncle's room and opened the door, which surprisingly wasn't locked. Did Aunt Petunia think that by just saying" don't go in" Harry would listen and obey? Thankfully she did...

Harry opened the door and entered their room. As it was with every other room of the Dursley household, Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's was immaculate. Everything was neatly in place, dust dared not settle in any open surface or forgotten corner. It was as if Aunt Petunia dusted and vacuumed the room ten minutes ago.

Then, Harry noticed something messy, completely out of place. On the top of his aunt's dresser lay crumpled up pieces of paper, old bits of parchment and a pink letter. He picked up the pink letter first and looked at who it was for. What he saw made him gasp aloud. The letter was addressed to James Potter.

Instinctively, he dropped the letter and looked at it as if it was some kind of infected piece of waste. Why did his aunt have one of Harry's mother's letters to his father? Harry knew that he shouldn't read the note-it would be much too personal-but curiosity got the best of him and he picked it up again and looked at the even flowing hand of his mother.

Dearest James,

I hope that you are doing well and that you are staying clear of anything too dangerous. You know perfectly well how close the both of us have been to Voldemort's fury and I don't want anything bad happening to you. (You haven't accepted another assignment, have you?)
Your prior assignment was way too complicated and dangerous and I'm glad that you have decided to decline it upfront. Severus is more apt for the job because of ‘you-know-what' with ‘you-know-who' and you being near to any extra danger is more than I can bear.
I don't want to say anything else more in-depth on what you already know about because of interception. But please return home as soon as possible. I will tell the owl to search for you. It'll know where you are...it is an un-plottable owl as well, so the odds of it beings caught are slim. I especially hope that Crouch doesn't act like a buffoon and make insane restrictions like he did before the major rebellion happened a year ago.
James, what I've been hearing from my parents is disheartening as well. All the Muggle killings and all the horrendous things that are happening everywhere is hitting close to home-they coincide too much with what Voldemort is doing. As you already know, my sister was almost murdered by an unknown Death Eater a week ago.
Things are becoming more and more serious and I'm afraid for my baby's safety. Is the attempt at my sister's life related to us? I can feel something big is going to happen soon. I don't know what, but it's there and I don't want to be alone when it does happen.
So please hurry back.

Yours, with my greatest and deepest love,
Lily.

At that moment, Harry dropped the note and sat on his aunt and uncle's bed, grief overtaking his senses. He should not have read the note...after reading it, he felt awkward and unsafe. Voldemort tried to murder Aunt Petunia? What for? Did she have some sort of secret that Voldemort wanted? Was this the reason why Harry went to stay with her...could it not have only been for his own safety?

Harry's forehead began to sweat and he looked at the piece of parchment that was weathered, aged, and quite ordinary-looking. He picked it up. This one was addressed to his aunt.

He unfolded it and began to read it slowly, taking in each and every word of it....

Dear Petunia,

I'm happy to hear from mum and dad that your marriage is going well and that your baby is right on schedule! I'm also hoping that you deliver healthily and on time. Having a baby is really exciting, despite the downsides of certain things like the weight and the sickness from time to time.
However, I personally know that you have been getting my owls and that you have read every single letter that I have given to you. Why don't you respond to me? Is it still because of what we talked about awhile ago-regarding who I am? It isn't if I asked fervently to become a witch! You know I would have loved it immensely if you had gotten the same acceptance letter to Hogwarts that I did! If it was because of this, please could you lay it aside for one minute?
You are extremely special in your own way, despite the fact you aren't a witch. You know what I mean-I cannot mention it further in case the letter is intercepted. –But you have certain things I will never have...but that's for another letter and another situation. Could you just shelve aside all the feelings you might have against me and help me out?
You know the dangers of living in the magical (as well as Muggle) world nowadays. You know how powerful, evil, and malodorous that sorcerer everyone fears is....
I must ask an important favor only you can do. James has already chosen a godfather for our son in case anything should happen to either of us. His name is Sirius Black. If anything happens, our son will go into his care. But, of course, the fact still remains that if Sirius has a run-in with the Death Eaters, where will our son go? Well, I feel that the only thing to do would be to put him in the hands of the only other living relatives I have. You.
Would you be willing to watch after our son if anything should happen to Sirius Black or us-be his godmother? I would be most grateful if you would accept our request and someday meet our son's godfather. It doesn't have to be right away, but soon would be appreciated. Please, return a letter with a reply and when you could make it to meet Sirius.
With all the love and happiness I can wish to you,

Your sister,
Lily

As he finished the last sentence of the letter, enraptured and oblivious, someone or something suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"How dare you?" came a loud shriek of a voice that sounded vaguely and horribly like Aunt Petunia's.

"Wh-what?" Harry stuttered in shock, his wrist becoming numb from his aunt's strong grip.

"Why did you read those letters?" she hissed.

"Er-" Harry was at a loss for words. He just stared back at his aunt with a stunned silence.

Aunt Petunia was breathing heavily now. She released her grip on Harry's wrists and turned around toward the threshold of her bedroom. Uncle Vernon finally sauntered his way into view from the hallway. She shooed him off with one swift fling of her hand. Then, she closed the door quickly.

"Yes?" Aunt Petunia said softly, completely different from the usual hiss that she gave. "What's the question?"

"You're my godmother and you never told me?"

"Hold on one second..." Aunt Petunia interrupted with her usual harsh tone of voice. "I must explain to you, since you know now about everything-" Harry made a small smirk and nodded silently. His aunt brushed the fringe off of her forehead and paused. What she was about to say appeared to take a lot out of her. It was a while before she continued:

"I-I had so many hesitations on taking this-position of godmother. My sister had every right to be rejected by me, being what she was. Of course I-I was jealous, as you've already guess by now! Well, she made something of herself...something that I refused to take part in. Oh, don't look surprised! I wasn't asked to go to that wretched school. Oh no...it wasn't like that at all.... I didn't want to go there. All I wanted was..." she halted immediately and looked at Harry with a sense that she was about to reveal something enormous. "All I wanted was...something..."

Harry snorted derisively and looked at his Aunt Petunia, who was shaking, half with rage and half with fear. Her eyes darted to Harry, out the window, and then back to Harry, as if afraid that there would be eavesdroppers listening to what she was saying.

"I-I-I was never good at...anything..." Aunt Petunia continued, positively flustered. She tried to talk some more but nothing came out of her mouth except short stutters. And then, after a few seconds-

"Oh, when she left school-when she arrived home every year-oooh, I HATE her with SUCH a PASSION! The way she acted after coming home every year from that freak school, the way she teased me by threatening to do magic! And then-and then asking me after all that happened, she asked me to help her! IT WAS INSANITY!"

"Shut up!" Harry suddenly heard himself roar. "Don't talk about my mother that way...."

"I can talk to her however I please," Aunt Petunia said in barely a whisper. She edged even closer to Harry, her face an inch from his. Her eyes were peering into Harry's malevolently; she wasn't happy at all.

"She required a favor of me yes..." Aunt Petunia continued. "I didn't realize how much work it was. You owe me. You owe me all the time you've done wrong. I said yes to Lily, I did. I don't deny it, although I've denied being your godmother all these sixteen years. But I didn't realize how much of a miscreant you were when I first accepted the task! I didn't believe in a hundred years I'd actually get you...it was a one-in-a-million chance. But when I did accept, I was bound by some spell that that old wizard gave. And I remembered it only last year when he sent me that screaming letter-that howling letter! And now..." she gave a huge sigh, her eyes watering profusely, "...you say he's back, that evil wizard, fully-powerful?"

"Voldemort," Harry said in complete sincerity.

"Yes that..." Aunt Petunia said shakily. "Him! I daresay that if I come close to dying once again, it will be all your fault! Now to your room and pack your things! In the morning, you'll be headed to Mrs. Figg's! I don't care that it's before we're planning to leave. You've earned some extra time with her!"
And with that, she opened the door and shoved Harry out of the room.

* * *

Harry lay awake on his bed, totally unpacked and unready to go over to Mrs. Figg's first thing tomorrow. He hadn't bothered to put one book in his trunk, one bottle of ink in its place, one article of clothing inside it. He just lay there, smothered with too many thoughts...so many that he wished he had a Pensieve like Dumbledore's so that he could take some of his thoughts out of his head and not have to worry about them.

Aunt Petunia-his godmother! Harry couldn't believe that there was an extra closeness he possessed with his aunt...it made more of a bond than what he had found out about the year before! (It didn't better the relationship though...) She had also almost been murdered by one of Voldemort's Death Eaters...! What did his aunt have (or had) that made her so special? She wasn't a witch...so what could it be?

Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to push out the pain and the thoughts that swam uncontrollably in his head.

And that was when his door creaked open, but hadn't he locked it after he entered his room for the night? As it crept slowly open, Harry could see light intruding the dimness of his still-messy room. Aunt Petunia's face was cast in a heavy shadow. She was silent...as were her footsteps over the carpet...like a ghost...floating...floating across toward him...arms outstretched....

Aunt Petunia reached Harry's bed. Harry stood up looking at his aunt with a mix of extreme uneasiness and bewilderment. Why did Aunt Petunia just enter his room without knocking and without a sound?
Suddenly, Aunt Petunia wailed ferociously, her face suddenly illuminated by the faint bedside lamp next to Harry. Her eyes were encased with fear and her mouth was trembling horribly.
"Why did he have to return? Why is everything happening like this? It's horrible!"

Harry stood nonplussed, staring at his now-deranged aunt. He said nothing.

"Don't you realize what's going on here? It's horrible! I can't believe you're not doing anything about it! Just breaking rules I give, that's it!"

"What?" Harry finally found words coming out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Aunt Petunia grabbed both of Harry's arms and shook him violently.

"Do I have to knock sense into you, boy?" she shrieked insanely. Her eyes widened even more so. "This is all your doing! Why did he have to die?"

"What is-" Harry began, but he stopped in mid-sentence. What had just happened made him mute. It happened so fast, without a single noise. His aunt had pulled his arms hard...extremely hard...unnaturally hard. And his arms detached from the rest of his body. They were swinging limply, still grasped firmly by Aunt Petunia's iron-strong grip. The hands were gray and scabbed, glistening in the lamplight....

Harry looked up and saw that Aunt Petunia's face had changed. It wasn't even human. The head was now that of a horse. The eyes were black and wildly swirling around. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of them...they were luring him in...luring him into the depths of them...into the blackness....

And the blackness turned into searing white...a ferocious white...a scar-searing white that was accentuated by an icy laugh-Voldemort's laugh....

Then a loud bang-

Harry opened his eyes, biting his tongue, for the pain had grown too laborious for his own will. He peered around. Cowering on the floor was Wormtail. He was shaking and whimpering, his bald head drenched with sweat. Harry's right had was poised in midair, wand pointing out a small upper-floor window. The hand was not glistening and scab-covered this time around. No, now it was bone-white and spindly, like live spiders. Harry peered out the window and saw a car smothered in flames. People were screaming and running around in a panic. Where was he? And what had he just done?

Harry heard himself cackle again and turn around, facing Wormtail.

"See how simple that was, my odious minion?"

Wormtail looked up warily, his buggy eyes wide and frightened. He nodded and bowed his head again whimpering even more loudly.

"They'll never find us in here. And those filthy Muggles will just think it a car bomb...."

More screams flew through the open window. Sirens blared and pandemonium ensued.

"I know this is just good fun right now. Nothing according to plan..." There was another soft laugh that issued from Harry. "After I've had my fun, we can return to our quest to find that power-"

There was a halt to the sentence and then Harry rounded on Wormtail. He peered down directly at his shimmering head.

"You know Wormtail, I feel as if something's still not right here. It's as if someone's...watching me right now.... Do you know who I am talking about...?"

At those words issuing from Harry's mouth...a bright flash followed by an angry bellow rang in Harry's ears. Laughter rang endlessly in his head while fresh sears of pain consumed his scar.

Harry screamed...a scream so loud and so desperate that when he woke up, all the Dursleys were huddled around his bed. They were all standing there in a blur, but Harry could still make the three of them out. He didn't have much more time to ponder how the Dursleys would react. A tidal wave of sickness swept over him and Harry retched...everywhere. The pain was still fresh and piercing. From a distance, Harry could hear the bellows of Uncle Vernon, the shrieks of Aunt Petunia, and the disgusted moans of Dudley.

After a few minutes of trying to regain steady stream of consciousness, Harry realized that he was again alone in the room. He peered down at his dirtied covers and the washrag that was crumpled next to a hollow basin. He turned and saw Aunt Petunia entering the room once more, a look of anxiety and repulsion both on her face. A large bath towel was in her hands. It was old, frayed, and pink-one of the ancient ones that Harry oftentimes used after taking a shower.

She cleaned up the final puddles of sick that still splattered the floor. After crumpling the towel in the basin, her nose wrinkling from the reeking odor, she cast a glance at Harry, a glance of sheer anger.

"What was that for? What's the matter with you?"

"What?" Harry was still dazed.

"Do I have to knock some sense into you, boy?" Aunt Petunia hissed indignantly. "This is all your doing!" She motioned toward the basin with the dirtied rag and towel in it.

Harry trembled at the words. They were unpleasantly familiar.... He waited a few seconds, wondering if his aunt's head would transform into a horse's....
It didn't. Instead, his Aunt Petunia made a grimace at the mess that Harry made of the room and looked back into his eyes.

"You know, after all we've done for you, this is what you have to go and do...." She shuddered and continued, "Just to add on to everything! First, you have to go and ruin your Uncle Vernon's promotion, practically traumatize your Aunt Marge, ruin our living room with your freaky wizard friends of yours, and then have Dementors attack our poor Diddypoo!"

Aunt Petunia's recap of the mishaps of the past five years would not have been as bad if she didn't state that he, Harry, had sent the Dementors off on her precious Dudders.... Rage coursed through Harry and he groggily stood up on his bed, staring down at his now cowering aunt.

"Don't you dare say that I sent off those Dementors on Dudley! An official who was the most wretched person in the world told them to come after me. I was the victim. And Dudley was innocent...."

"You haven't spoken more truer when you say Dudley was innocent, boy!" Aunt Petunia said angrily, her lips pursed.

There was a pause. Then Aunt Petunia continued:

"I agreed to take you in...I mean-this whole thing-I don't know why I did it...it's just so aggravating when you act so ungrateful! I'm practically forced to watch over you every summer and the least you could do is leave us in peace for at least one God-forsaken summer! And then what just happened a few weeks ago... Don't make me relive it-"

She stopped and looked around the room, halted in front of Hedwig's cage-which housed a very ornery Hedwig who had been awoken by Harry's screams-and then set her eyes back on Harry.

"After everything...this..." There was a slight pause and then, "...and I must have you clean up this pig-sty and get packed!"

She turned to walk out when Harry stood up and said:

"Sirius is dead."

The words came out of Harry's mouth with a grim acceptance so real that it caused a shiver to travel up and down his spine.

"Don't lie to me," Aunt Petunia said icily.

"I'm not," Harry said in the same icy tone. "I saw him die with my very eyes. He was fighting a Death Eater a month ago and he fell through a veil into death. You're sole possessor of me now."

Aunt Petunia looked at Harry with increasing anxiety. "Well, I won't feel any guilt by leaving you with Mrs. Figg for the rest of the summer. And just you wait! Well, see how soon you'll be welcomed on our doorstep in the future! I daresay your precious Dumbledore will have second thoughts about keeping you here after I get through with writing to him!"

And with that, she left.

Harry growled angrily and punched his bed, accidentally touching the damp portions of the covers where he had barfed on. Then, cursing madly, Harry got up and walked around his room, knocking over ink bottles and throwing books and loose sheets of paper over the floor.

He didn't care what Aunt Petunia said; she couldn't kick him out; she had no real power over him; he could do whatever he wanted.... He didn't care anymore why Aunt Petunia had to take him in or where he had to go. Be it to Mrs. Figg's or to the Weasleys, what difference did it make? He still had barely any questions answered. And his fear of Voldemort steadily increased over the day. Where was he now? Would Voldemort be able to track Harry down if he left the Dursleys? Voldemort had just realized that Harry had witnessed the mayhem he caused in a Muggle street. Voldemort realized Harry heard about what he might be trying to get his hands on...whatever it was....

Harry shook with fear as he tried to pack as fast as he possibly could. After a few minutes of packing, he sat down and gazed outside. Everything appeared to be normal and mundane out there, the sky was a calm and contained dark-blue-glittering with a thousand iridescent stars. Harry wished that things were like they were a few hours ago, before he read his mother's letters and before he dreamed about Voldemort and what he was doing at that present moment.

Harry wished things would be normal once more....

Please Review Here.

Posted by rockygirl at August 20, 2003 09:18 AM