help. He could handle the snubs – he’d had loads of practice – but he wasn’t about to let them take out their prejudice on her.
Their days at Privet Drive passed slowly, and Harry felt the stirrings of restlessness growing within him as they approached the day they would leave forever. He felt as if he were wound tight as a drum and plunged himself into the books that Hermione had brought back from Diagon Alley in an attempt at distraction.
He’d been having trouble sleeping, and dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes. Each night when he’d try to settle down to sleep, thoughts and vague memories would churn in his head, and he couldn’t turn them off.
The locket, the cup, the snake, and something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw…
At times, he felt confident and ready to rush out and begin the hunt. The forced confinement grated on his nerves, and he was certain he’d worn a layer off his teeth from grinding them. At other times, the task at hand appeared so overwhelming that he felt hopeless and full of despair. The fake Horcrux that he always kept in his pocket seemed to mock him.
It was at these times that he’d retreat into himself, growing distant and increasingly quiet. He could see the concerned glances shared between Ron and Hermione when they thought he wasn’t looking, but he pretended not to notice and continued with his research.
Hermione had set him the task of writing down everything he could remember from the Pensieve memories that Professor Dumbledore had shown him, in addition to any comments that the headmaster might have made about Tom Riddle. They hoped for some clues that could help them narrow their search. He’d placed a charm on his notes similar to the Marauders map so that no one else would be able to read back what he’d written. The phrase he’d chosen as his password: I solemnly swear I’m up to some kick-arse good.
Actually, the kick-arse part had been Ron’s idea, and the two boys had chuckled over it for so long that Hermione had left the room in a huff. Ron’s task had been to scour old Hogwarts lists in an attempt to locate the mysterious RAB, but he claimed it was hopeless.
Hermione spent her time looking for references of Horcruxes, which thus far had proved futile. It seemed no one in the wizarding world wanted to discuss them. Harry had started referring to them as The-Items-That-Can’t-Be-Named, causing Ron to snort his fizzy soda. He’d been nicking it from Dudley’s stash since he’d arrived on Privet Drive. Harry had begun to wonder if maybe the library at Grimmuald Place would be a good place to find something on Horcruxes – it had been full of dark magic items – but he wasn’t certain if it had been completely cleaned out or not. He still didn’t have the heart to go there, so he pushed that thought to the back of his mind for the moment.
Ron’s complete and utter cluelessness about normal Muggle life was comical, and Harry enjoyed having the shoe on the other foot. He remembered all too well the blunders he’d made when he’d first entered
the wizarding world, and how Ron had enjoyed taking the mickey out of him for most of his mistakes. Payback was sweet.
For several days, their paths and Dudley’s hadn’t crossed, but on a sunny afternoon when the trio had abandoned Harry’s room to sit in the back garden that all changed.
“What’s this?” Ron asked, holding up a statue of a funny little man with a scrunched up face.
“It’s a garden gnome,” Harry answered absently as he scribbled in his notebook.
“No. It isn’t,” Ron said with disgust. “Don’t be stupid.”
“It’s what Muggles call gnomes, Ron,” Hermione answered patiently, giving his book a gentle shove back in his direction. Ron had grown increasingly bored with all their revising and constantly looked for diversions.
“Hey, Harry, think fast,” Ron said, tossing the ugly gnome towards Harry, who managed to catch it before it splattered dirt all over his notes.
Harry tossed it back without comment, and it sailed over Ron’s head, just missing his reach. “I can see you’re out of practice. Good thing we’re not going back to school, or I’d probably have to throw you off the team,” Harry said, managing to keep a straight face. He, too, was feeling restless, and winding Ron up seemed like as good idea as any.
“Throw me off the team, is it now?” Ron asked, drawing himself up to his full height. “Then who exactly would warn you about all those Bludgers that seem to follow you around all the time, Chosen Boy?”
With that, Ron launched himself at Harry and pinned him to the ground. The two boys rolled on the ground, wrestling with each other for a few moments and ignoring Hermione’s huffs until Ron finally had Harry pinned with his forearm across Harry’s throat.
“Yeah, you’ve got it right. The little runt never could stand to have anyone’s hands on his neck,” Dudley’s voice sounded from the corner of the garden. None of the three had noticed him standing there watching them
Harry froze at the sound of Dudley’s voice, his mouth forming a slight “O”. Dudley had avoided them as if his life depended on it since their arrival, and he hadn’t so much as spoken to Harry since the incident with the vase.
“What are you on about?” Ron asked, a hard edge to his voice.
“That’s what he always used to hate the most when me and my mates used to chase him, too,” Dudley said, nodding his approval.
Ron rolled off of Harry and stood up quickly, his ears growing redder by the minute. Harry raised himself up on his elbows, curious to see
how Dudley and Ron interacted, yet ready to pounce if things got out of control.
“I always wondered why you red-haired lot put up with him and had him come to stay at your house for summers. I can see now that he’s your target practice. I always used him for that, too. He always gives a good chase, but you can get him if you use your mates,” Dudley said with a self-satisfied smirk.
“We don’t all gang up on Harry,” Ron said indignantly. He reached down and pulled Harry to his feet, as if trying to prove there were no hard feelings. “He’s our friend.”
“Friend,” Dudley said, scoffing. “Who’d want to be friends with him?”
“I do,” Ron said vehemently. “Just like my brothers, my sister, and anyone else who knows him. He’s the best friend anyone could ask for, and we’d all do anything for him. Could you say the same for your mates, Dudley?”
Dudley appeared taken aback by Ron’s fierce loyalty. He stared back and forth between Ron and Harry several times, as if unable to wrap his small mind around the fact that someone would actually like Harry. “He…he knows how to do stuff with his stick-thing…but without that, he’s nothing but a pathetic little runt who messes up everything. He doesn’t have any real mates. My mates stick with me, because they know I’m the strongest.”
“Dudley,” Hermione said gently, “Ron and Harry were just playing around. Certainly at some point while you were growing up you and Harry must have gotten on…once in a while.”
“I’d never do anything with that freak,” Dudley said.
“Freak,” Ron said in disgust. “You don’t even know him, do you?”
“He is a lot like Malfoy, isn’t he? I’ve never noticed it before now, but Ron’s right. He never did much on his own, either – always had to have his little gang behind him. You should have come to Hogwarts when I went, Duds. Maybe you could have been one of Malfoy’s goons, too. I’m certain they would have placed you in Slytherin,” Harry said, unable to resist taunting his cousin back any longer.
“I’m telling mum you said the name of that school of yours,” Dudley said, backing towards the door, apparently very confused over the loyalty amongst the trio.
“What? Hogwarts? But Dudley, you should have gone there, too. You’re a wizard, after all,” Harry said.
“Harry,” Hermione said, grabbing his arm, but Harry ignored her.
“I never should have gone there. I’m not a freak like you lot,” Dudley said, taking a step towards them.
“He’d have never been able to handle it, anyway, Harry,” Ron said. “He’d be just another Crabbe or Goyle, fumbling his way through.”
“I’m not a wizard,” Dudley shouted, growing ever more enraged. His piggy eyes were flashing as he clenched and unclenched his massive fists.
“I’m surprised you haven’t taken full advantage of it, though,” Ron mused casually, leaning back against a tree and crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean…being able to use magic and all. From what Harry tells me, your favorite pasttime is picking on little kids. I’m certain you could have really scared some little Muggle kids by using magic…or frighten your mates into doing whatever you wanted. That’s the way you work, right?”
“What do you mean?” Dudley asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Ron! Ignore him, Dudley. He knows you can’t use magic on Muggles without getting into trouble, and besides, you wouldn’t want to intimidate any of your friends. That’s not what magic is all about,” Hermione said, glaring at Ron.
Dudley’s eyes gleamed, as if a light switch had just been turned. “I could make them do anything I wanted, couldn’t I?”
Harry shivered. Dudley’s reaction had eerily reminded him of the memories he’d seen of a young Tom Riddle. “Stop it. You’ll never have the chance to go to Hogwarts now, so it’s a moot point. Aunt Petunia saw to that.”
“I don’t need your stupid school, anyway. I can make this stuff happen just by getting angry. Things always happen when I’m angry…and you can’t do anything about it. She said it herself. You’re not allowed to use magic against Mubbles,” Dudley said, pointing at Hermione with a victorious glint in his eye.
“Just one problem with that, Duds,” Harry replied. “You’re not a Muggle; you’re a wizard.”
“Enough of this,” Aunt Petunia hissed, entering the back garden in a towering rage. “You were warned not to upset him and to stay away from him. I won’t have you corrupting him with your vile ways.” As she spoke, Aunt Petunia stood in front of Harry, with one hand on her hip and the other flicking a dishtowel at him.
Dudley smirked as he stood behind his mother. He always enjoyed seeing Harry get told off. “He said I was one of them, Mummy…that I could do….mag-”
“Don’t say it!” Aunt Petunia yelped, whipping around and slamming her hand over Dudley’s mouth. “Don’t even listen to them, popkin.”
“But Mummy, if you’d have allowed me to go to that school, I could have got a thing, too. I would have been able to keep him in line around here,” Dudley whined.
“Don’t speak of such things. I won’t have it. I’m not going through all that again. You are normal, Dudley. Never forget that,” Aunt
Petunia said fervently. She’d grown increasingly paler as he spoke, and now appeared ready to faint away on the spot.
“But that was my decision to make, not yours,” Dudley said, surprising Harry so much his jaw fell open. He’d never seen Dudley openly defy Aunt Petunia before; he usually only did it behind her back. Aunt Petunia was just as stunned, and she glared at Harry as if it were entirely his fault.
“I won’t speak of it again, Dudley. You’re to have nothing to do with that hellhole of a school,” Aunt Petunia said, with that no-nonsense demeanor that Harry remembered so well.
A sick, nauseous feeling arose within him as he fully realized the extent of Aunt Petunia’s hatred of the magical world – and everyone it. “You really hated her, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.
He hadn’t expected her to answer; she never did when it pertained to his mother. He was shocked when she turned to face him, her eyes blazing. “I never hated her; I hated what she became. I thought when she was done with that devil of a school that she’d come to her senses and return to her family, but no. Your cretin of a father had her by then, and look how they ended up. Then you arrived on our doorstep, looking just like him. I had to look into her eyes and see his face.
“I won’t have my Dudley meet the same end; I won’t have it.”
Harry was stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times but couldn’t form the words.
“But, mum…I could be powerful,” Dudley said.
Harry couldn’t contain his disbelief any longer. “Powerful? You’ve already had them jumping through hoops since you were born. What more did you want?” Harry’s mind was racing. Had magic played a part in the dominance that Dudley had always appeared to hold over his parents? Had he somehow influenced their decisions? Had he unintentionally been prodding them along to buy just one more gift all this time?
As usual, the Dursleys ignored Harry’s outburst.
“Popkin,” Aunt Petunia said, putting a hand to Dudley’s face. “Of course you don’t want anything to do with all his foul nonsense. You’re better than that. He’s just trying to bring you down to his level.”
Dudley shuddered. “You’re right. I don’t want any of this touching me. I’m normal.” Dudley stormed over to Harry and poked his porky finger at Harry’s chest repeatedly. “I’m normal. You hear that, Potter? I’m normal.”
“Could have fooled me,” Harry replied, finally recovering the use of his voice.
Ron moved next to Harry and shoved Dudley’s hand away. “Keep your grubby, normal hands off him.”
สมัครสมาชิก:
ส่งความคิดเห็น (Atom)
ไม่มีความคิดเห็น:
แสดงความคิดเห็น