Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 29-34)

“I warned you to stay away from him,” Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.
“We were out here working on the project that you asked us to do. He was the one who came out here with us,” Harry replied.
“Well, stay in your room, then,” Aunt Petunia snapped. “Heavens, if the neighbors have heard any of this you’ll be in for it. Do you hear me? Get inside and stay away from Dudley.”
After Dudley and Aunt Petunia stormed inside the house, Ron turned towards Hermione. “Can you honestly think of any reason why Harry would want to continue a relationship with those people?”
“Because they’re his family,” Hermione said stubbornly.
“No, they’re not,” Harry said, shaking his head. “We share my mother’s blood, that’s all. You two have been my only family for a long time now.” Harry quickly picked up his books and headed inside without looking back at Ron and Hermione.
Hermione’s attempts at striking up a friendship with Aunt Petunia had continued, but they had – of course – been futile. Harry had kept trying to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. He’d wondered if his aunt might actually enjoy some female company for a change, but Aunt Petunia made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Hermione. Oh, she’d let her help with chores – Aunt Petunia could never resist having someone else to boss around – but when it came to any kind of conversation, Hermione was rudely rebuffed.
At first, Aunt Petunia had merely been snippy, but as the days wore on and Hermione’s persistence refused to wane, Aunt Petunia’s comments had become increasingly rude and more biting. For Harry, it was basically what he’d expected to happen, but he was caught unprepared for Ron’s reaction.
Ron had always been quick to stand up for Hermione; from a very early age, he’d always taken exception to anyone other than him giving her a hard time. But his fury over the Dursleys’ comments to Hermione appeared extreme – even for Ron standards. He’d already threatened them several times, and once Harry had even had to step in before Ron drew his wand on Uncle Vernon. He wouldn’t have much cared if Uncle Vernon got hexed, but he was afraid Ron would get in trouble for Muggle-baiting.
The night before they were due to leave, Harry found his Aunt Petunia doing her nightly wipe-down in the kitchen. They hadn’t found any kind of spell that would subdue Dudley’s magic, although they hadn’t really had the time to look very hard. They’d decided simply to use Hermione’s original idea of a Cheering Charm. Harry wished someone had thought of that idea when he and Dudley were younger; it might have made Harry’s childhood a lot more pleasant.
“Aunt Petunia,” Harry said quietly, hoping his uncle, who was watching the telly in the parlor, wouldn’t overhear him.
“What?” snapped Aunt Petunia.
“We’ve found something that should help Dudley. We’ll perform the spell tomorrow before we leave,” he said.
Aunt Petunia froze, her hand shaking slightly as it held a sponge over the kitchen counter. “You’re certain this won’t hurt Dudley?”
“Yeah. He won’t even be aware when it’s done,” Harry said.
Aunt Petunia nodded and went back to her scrubbing.
“I think we’re going to go to Godric’s Hollow. I want to see my parents’ graves,” Harry said, uncertain why he’d chosen to share this bit of information with her. There was something about knowing that he was leaving forever that felt strange. He certainly felt nothing for the Dursleys and knew they didn’t want him any more than he wanted them. Still, they were all he’d known for nearly sixteen years, his only living family; he couldn’t help but feel he should say something.
Aunt Petunia hesitated again, although so briefly that Harry thought he must have imagined it. “Don’t leave a mess behind and take all your belongings with you – I won’t be handling anything strange to forward. And be certain not to take any of Dudley’s things.”
Harry’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” he said softly, already regretting his efforts. As he turned around, he came face to face with a pale Hermione and a positively livid Ron standing in the entryway of the kitchen.
“Hey,” Harry said uncertainly. “We’re all set for tomorrow. Let’s just go back upstairs and finish our packing. We’ll leave in the morning.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Uncle Vernon asked loudly as he stomped into the kitchen, glaring at finding Harry, Ron and Hermione there.
Before Harry could respond, Ron bit out, “I believe Harry just said that we’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I always say,” Uncle Vernon muttered, his countenance visibly brightening.
“Aren’t you even going to say goodbye and good luck to your nephew?” Ron asked, nearly snarling. “That’s certainly the very least you can do.”
Uncle Vernon narrowed his piggy eyes at Harry. “That doddering old fool who was with you last year said you’d come of age this year. That means this is the last time we have to put up with all your nonsense, right?”
“That’s right,” Harry said, smiling humorlessly. “I’ll be of age in a few weeks and a fully qualified wizard. I’m no longer in need of your services.” Harry enjoyed the shudder of revulsion the word wizard caused amongst all his relatives. He just wanted to be done with all of this. It was time to move onward.
“Harry,” Hermione said pleadingly. Her eyes darted to and fro between Harry and his uncle. “You want to leave here on good-”
“I don’t bloody well believe you lot,” Ron said, his ears flaming. “What is wrong with you people? Do you know that I always felt a bit embarrassed about my house after the first time I saw this place, even with the bars on Harry’s window? I was stupid enough to feel ashamed of my house, thinking that Harry was coming from something better. What an idiot! I really can’t believe how stupid I was. It’s only now, watching your behavior, that I understand why Harry always seemed over the moon to arrive at my house. It’s no wonder. You lot are pathetic.”
Harry stared at Ron with wide eyes, visibly reminded of Mr. Weasley and a similar reaction when he’d come to collect Harry for the Quidditch Cup. Harry had never been so proud to have Ron for a friend.
And Ron wasn’t done with Uncle Vernon. “My mum…my mum can holler with the best of them. She could probably even give a banshee a run for her money. But I know damn well that if I had been born a Squib, it would have changed nothing. She might have been disappointed, but she would have treated me the same, and expected the same from me as she did the rest of my siblings. And no matter how hard she was on me, she’d never allow anyone else to be.
“That’s what families are supposed do. You pathetic wankers don’t even know Harry. How could you? You don’t even know the kind of person you’ve had here all the time and the lengths he would go for you if you asked. The sad part is that I don’t think you’ll realize it even after he’s gone.”
Harry looked up sharply in time to see a grimace cross Ron’s face after he’d said the words, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine. Aunt Petunia’s face had paled slightly, glancing quickly at Harry before returning her eyes to the floor.
Ron had withdrawn his wand and was waving it jerkily beneath the Dursleys’ noses, causing them to cringe back against the counters. Ron didn’t make any indication that he was going to curse them, and Harry was enjoying the tongue-lashing they were receiving, so he didn’t make any move to stop it.
“Damn it, if the Death Eaters only knew about you lot they’d have the best recruiting tool they’d ever come across, because I’ve never wanted to curse a Muggle as bad as I want to curse you. You know why I don’t? Because he—,” Ron jammed his finger at Harry, “he won’t let me. Why, I’ll never know. He certainly has never done anything to deserve the likes of you as family.
“The funny thing is, those same Death Eaters who could use you wouldn’t do it because of the fact that you’re Muggles. And the only thing standing between you and them right now is him. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
“Come on, Harry; we’re getting out of here,” Ron said, turning to leave the room. Hermione beamed at him, her eyes glowing with pride as she watched his retreating back.
Uncle Vernon’s face had gone from red to maroon and now displayed a nearly purple hue. He became much braver as soon as Ron moved his wand away. “I will not be spoken to with such disrespect in my own home by the likes of…of…of someone like you. You will all take all of your belongings and get out of my house in the morning,” he raged, as if it had been his idea all along.
“No problem, Uncle Vernon. We’ll be gone come morning. You can even redecorate my old room,” Harry said cheerfully, slapping the door to the cupboard under the stairs on his way past.
Hermione, who was walking directly in front of him, stopped sharply, causing him to bump into her.
“Herm-”
“What did you just say?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Harry’s eyes widened, realizing his blunder. He’d never shared that particular story with Ron and Hermione. He’d always been a little embarrassed by it.
“Er, nothing. Just forget about it,” Harry said, trying to hurry them along. Ron had now stopped, too, and was staring with curiosity at the series of locks and door jams along the cupboard entry.
Hermione shoved Harry’s arm out of the way and forcefully opened the door, gasping at what she found inside.
Harry’s eyes wandered over his old, familiar, cramped quarters. A lumpy old mattress with several springs poking out still rested on a wire camp bed. Several toy soldiers and broken chess pieces were scattered on a shelf. Spider webs had covered the slanted ceiling completely, and a heavy layer of dust covered everything inside. Harry vaguely wondered why Aunt Petunia hadn’t sanitized this spot like she did everywhere else. It was almost as if all the things that frightened her were hidden inside that cupboard.
Harry recognized his childlike writing on the walls. Just scribbles, really, beside his name. He’d once confiscated some of Dudley’s crayons and made a habit of nicking more whenever he’d got the chance. He could see a crude drawing of a birthday cake with candles drawn in different colors with gradual improvement in the drawing. He remembered adding to it each year on his birthday.
To say that Hermione exploded would be an understatement. She whirled toward the Dursleys, whipping Harry in the face with her hair as she spun around.
“How could you?” she screeched, baring her teeth like a wild animal.
Aunt Petunia averted her eyes to the floor, but Uncle Vernon puffed out his chest as if to defend himself. Hermione never gave him the chance.
“What?” Ron asked blankly.
“You loathsome, despicable cretins. To think I tried to tell him to be nicer to you. You actually kept him locked in a cupboard when he was just a little boy?” Hermione raged.
“They what?” Ron exploded, his head swinging wildly from Hermione to the cupboard to the Dursleys and back to Harry again.
Hermione ignored him. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” she hissed, raising her wand.
Harry grabbed her hand and pulled it away from Uncle Vernon just as she gave it an upward flick. Unfortunately, as he’d pulled it away he’d pulled it towards himself. He suddenly found himself hanging upside down by his ankle in the entry hall of Privet Drive.
Aunt Petunia shrieked and covered her eyes. Uncle Vernon shielded her with his body and pushed her back into the kitchen. The slamming of the kitchen door echoed in the silent hall for a moment.
“Er, Hermione…can you let me down?” Harry asked with amusement.
Hermione gasped and gently released Harry from the spell.
“You used Levicorpus. I can’t believe you used one of the Half-Blood Prince’s spells,” Ron said in amazement. Harry could hear the delight in his voice.
“Never mind trying to use it on a Muggle. Are you trying to get yourself arrested, Hermione?” Harry asked, beaming at his friend.
“Ready to start living on the wild side?” Ron asked, grinning.
“Oh, shut it, you two. I was just so angry with them. I can’t believe you never told us about this, Harry,” Hermione said, trying to maintain her dignity in the face of her laughing friends.
Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now; let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
He could tell Hermione wanted to argue, but Harry didn’t give her the chance. He bolted up the stairs in front of them, leaving them to follow in his wake. Still, settling down in his bed that night, it was a very long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Three
…And Another Door Opens
The next morning, Harry awoke feeling groggy and disoriented. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head, but he just couldn’t manage to raise it from his pillow. He could hear raised voices coming from downstairs, and he dragged his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the noise. It had taken a long time for him finally to fall asleep the night before, and it felt as if he’d only dosed off a few moments ago. Vague recollections of a dream started to come back to him…
He’d been on his Firebolt, racing through some dark tunnels in search of something. He’d felt a desperate panic rising within him that took nearly all his strength to clamp down.
He’d kept hitting dead ends, no matter which way he turned.
Dudley was there, stirring a potion, and he’d locked Harry in his cupboard where Harry soon fell asleep. His hair had kept growing while he slept and eventually grew so long it crept outside the cupboard door.
Ginny had used his hair to find him and had to slay a dragon in order to reach him. He’d climbed behind Ginny on the Firebolt, and the two of them had sped off into the sunset.
"Great," Harry mumbled into his pillow. "Now I’m dreaming about fairy tales, only I’m the damn Damsel in Distress." Harry knew he would never tell another living soul about that dream as long as he lived.
His bedroom door banged open, and Ron and Hermione entered — wide-awake and already dressed. They both looked entirely too upbeat to suit his mood.
"Come on, Harry. Get up; we’re leaving," Hermione said bossily.
Still feeling groggy, Harry wiped his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Time to go; Ron and I have taken care of everything. I’ve already shrunken our trunks and have them here in my bag. Let’s go," Hermione said, trying to pull his covers back. "You’ve been anxious to leave forever, and we’ve got loads to do."
"Hermione, let me get dressed," Harry said, grabbing his bedcovers and feeling slightly panicked. He was only wearing boxers, after all. What was her hurry, anyway?
"I’ve left your clothes right there," Hermione said, pointing to a pair of jeans and a T-shirt already laid out for him.
"Thanks, Mum," he said, smirking.
"Don’t get smart," Hermione said, frowning.
"We’ll meet you downstairs, mate," Ron said, dragging a protesting Hermione from the room. He gave her a slight shove to walk in front of him and leaned back to say, "Just think; you’re finally free of this place. Mum will be going spare if we don’t arrive in time for her to feed you this morning. Hermione thinks there must be something going on with the Order, since she hasn’t noticed them keeping watch and no one is here to escort us to the Burrow."
Harry hadn’t noticed any of the Order keeping watch at Privet Drive, either, but he knew that didn’t mean anything. With Ron and Hermione there to distract him, he hadn’t spent all his free time looking for Order members as he had in the past.