“What does that mean? They’re able to do…to…to use their things? I won’t have it in this house. You said they were coming here for research,” she said, a whine in her voice.
“Aunt Petunia, they’re coming here to work out how to do a spell that you asked me to do. Are you telling me that they can’t use magic to do it?” Harry asked, thoroughly enjoying his aunt’s conundrum.
Aunt Petunia’s lips thinned into a tiny sliver of a line. “One time and one time only. You owe me that much. You’re to help your cousin, and then you and your friends are to get out. I want nothing more to do with you or your kind. Vernon can see nothing unusual – he’s unhappy enough with you as it is.”
“So what’s new about that?” Harry mumbled.
“He’s been muttering about the fact that you came into an inheritance and didn’t bother to make us aware of that situation,” Aunt Petunia said with obvious disapproval. “We’ve provided you with house and board for sixteen years; certainly, if you’ve come into a house of your own, we deserve something for our trouble.”
“You won’t get anything that belonged to Sirius,” Harry said hotly. He might not want anything to do with Grimmauld Place either, but he certainly wasn’t about to let them get their grubby paws on it. He owed Sirius that much. Taking a deep breath to control his temper, he said through gritted teeth, “It wouldn’t do you any good, anyway. It’s a wizarding house – Muggles can’t see it. Although I suppose Dudley might be able to see it, actually…”
Aunt Petunia’s eyes widened with panic. “Enough. Diddyums most certainly will not be seeing any of your unnaturalness. Go and send your letter…and tell them to bring their own food,” she snapped before storming from the room.
Harry smiled grimly. Whenever it was that he’d be leaving this house to start the search for the Horcruxes couldn’t be soon enough.
The ringing of the doorbell startled Harry from his deep thoughts. He’d been up in his room, unpacking his few meager belongings from his school trunk. He reckoned that he and Ron would be quite cramped in his small bedroom, so a little organization couldn’t hurt. He wanted to be done with it before Hermione arrived and saw him doing it, however. There was no sense in letting her think she’d had any influence over him, or he’d never hear the end of it.
He glanced at the clock and was relieved to note they still had a half-hour before Uncle Vernon was due home. That should be just enough time to get settled and give Aunt Petunia some space to let him know they would be here. Even if they stayed confined for the most part to Harry’s room, there was no way for Uncle Vernon not to notice three extra people using the bathroom.
Hopefully, Aunt Petunia would think of something to placate him, and then Harry, Ron, and Hermione could just stay out of his way. It would be best for all of them to avoid a confrontation. Of course, having Ron
attempting to live as a Muggle ought to be a task worthy of the TriWizard tournament itself, Harry thought with a chuckle.
He was nearly gleeful with anticipation and was amused to realize that he’d never once before eagerly anticipated anything to do with the Dursleys as much as he was Ron’s presence in their very ordered life. It would be worth a few good telling-offs, actually.
He shut the door to his bedroom and hurried down the stairs, quietly noting Aunt Petunia straining her neck in order to peer out from the kitchen. Dudley was nowhere in sight.
Harry swung the door open wide just as the bell rang again.
“…you know anyone heard it the first time?” Ron was asking.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Hi, Harry,” she said brightly before releasing a horrified gasp. “Harry! What happened to your face?”
Harry put a hand to his cheek, wincing at the deep bruising. He’d been so lost in his musings that he hadn’t even paid attention. “Long story. I’ve got loads to tell you.”
Hermione looked dubious. “Is everything settled?”
“’Course it is,” Ron said, taking Hermione by the arm and firmly ushering her inside. He obviously wasn’t about to take any of the Dursleys’ excuses. “Just stop talking for a minute and let him tell us what’s happening…then we can decide what to do about it.”
Harry stepped back, grinning, and allowed them to enter. “Everything’s fine, Hermione. Come on upstairs, and we can talk privately.”
Neither Ron nor Hermione made any effort to move. They both stood in the hallway, looking around the house. He saw Hermione frowning at the abundance of pictures of Dudley adorning the walls and every spare bit of surface space in the parlor. Harry was amused to notice that there was now a new picture perched on top of the table that only hours ago had sported the broken vase.
Ron grunted his displeasure, while Hermione’s brows knitted as she scowled. Harry couldn’t blame them; Dudley wasn’t much to look at, that was for certain. Harry was keen to get them out of the parlor and away from Aunt Petunia’s prying eyes before her nosiness might allow her to learn anything he didn’t want her to know.
“Uncle Vernon will be home soon, so it’s better if we go upstairs. I’ve got loads to tell you,” Harry said, trying to steer his friends toward the stairway.
Hermione, however, was peering over his shoulder with interest.
“You must be Harry’s Aunt Petunia,” she said. “I’m Hermione Granger. You’ve probably heard Harry mention me. We’ve been friends since our first year.”
Harry groaned inwardly. Too late.
“Can you do it? Can you help my Dudley?” Aunt Petunia asked, ignoring Hermione’s outstretched hand and peering intently at her face.
“Help him to do what?” she asked, startled.
Aunt Petunia whirled on Harry. “I thought you said they’d know what to do,” she hissed. “I allowed them to come here, because you said they could help him. They’re in your year…why do they know how to do it if you can’t?” She pointed her bony finger at Ron disapprovingly. “I recognize that one from that family who came to collect you and destroyed our parlor a few years back.”
“I said I’d need some assistance, and they’re it,” Harry said trying to placate her. “Unlike me, neither is underage. I only had time to tell them I needed some help – they don’t know all the details yet. Just give us a little time, and we’ll get it all set to rights.”
“What’s going on here, Harry?” Ron asked, his eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Aunt Petunia.
“Not now, Ron,” Harry said, glaring.
“How long will all this take?” Aunt Petunia demanded. “I can only appease your uncle for so long. I want this done and you out of this house as quickly as possible.”
“Nothing will please me more,” Harry said through clenched teeth. “Give us a fortnight, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”
“Mrs. Dursley…” Hermione said, her eyes wide.
“A fortnight? That long? Do you really expect me to keep you here that long?” Aunt Petunia screeched.
“I assume you want it done right without any mistakes that might affect Dudley?” Harry asked.
Aunt Petunia paled. “You better not do anything to hurt my Dudley. That would be just like you, wouldn’t it? I don’t know why I’m trusting the likes of you with this. You’ve always been jealous of Dudley, because you could never be like him.”
“Now, wait a moment, Mrs. Dursley…” Hermione tried again, shocked.
Neither Harry nor his aunt paused to look at her.
Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s just what I’ve always wanted – to be more like Diddydinkums. You’re trusting it to me, because you really don’t have any choice, do you? Of course, if you’d rather we just leave now…”
Aunt Petunia glared at him for several moments before her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Get upstairs and keep quiet until I can talk to your uncle. Under no circumstances are you to upset Dudley.”
Before the words were even completely out of Aunt Petunia’s mouth, the front door swung open, revealing the startled face of Vernon Dursley. He stopped in his tracks and looked with confusion at the faces staring back at him.
Slowly, his color turned a deeper and deeper shade of red before he started spluttering. “You! What the devil are you doing here? What is the meaning of this?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What have you done to my family this time, boy?”
“Hello, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said dryly.
“Don’t you take that tone with me. You are no longer welcome here – not that you ever were. Get out and take your damn friends with you,” Vernon snarled.
Harry smirked. “I think Aunt Petunia might disagree with you.”
Aunt Petunia glared at him viciously.
Uncle Vernon turned an enraged expression from Harry towards Aunt Petunia, but seemed to whither a bit under her scrutiny. “Petunia?” he whined.
“They need to stay, Vernon. They won’t be here long, and when they leave, we’ll be rid of him for good,” she said, waving her hand in Harry’s general direction.
“But...but…but,” Vernon said, spluttering.
“I’m not any happier about it than you are, Vernon, but this is how it’s going to be,” she said firmly.
Uncle Vernon’s shoulders slumped momentarily before he turned back on Harry. “I won’t stand for any of your funny business, boy, and I want to talk to you about this inheritance you so neatly forgot to mention last summer. What was it? Your dead convict of a godfather leaving you a house. Thought you’d hoard that information all to yourself, did you?”
Harry’s face remained impassive.
“It won’t do us any good, Vernon. It’s a…a…unnatural house. We wouldn’t even be able to see it, and it’s full of freakish things,” Aunt Petunia said with a shudder. She turned on Harry. “Go upstairs and settle in for the night. You’ll have to provide for yourselves, as we’re going out to eat.”
Harry turned towards his friends, who were staring at him in stunned silence. “Up the stairs, first door on the right,” he said, jerking his head toward the stairs.
Ron and Hermione hurried up without another word.
As Harry lay in his bed that night feeling much older than his sixteen years, he wished his mind was as tired as his body. He had filled Ron and Hermione in about everything that had happened with Dudley and Aunt
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