A/N: Thanks for the continued reviews. I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment. I also got a program that lets me create .html documents at home so now I can upload from my home computer. :D
"Professor Dumbledore," Ron whispered. The older man had come into the room soundlessly. Ron had taken the chair Hermione had left after he placed the blanket over her. "She's finally asleep," he said softly jerking his head toward Hermione.
"I see that," he said, his eyes twinkling again. "I also see that Harry's color has improved."
Ron was a little uncomfortable with the headmaster finding Hermione in the bed with Harry. "You're not going to get onto her for sleeping there, are you?"
Madame Pomfrey had come to check on Harry and tutted as if she had been scandalized by the sight of two students sleeping in the same bed. "At least Ms. Granger is getting some rest," she had finally said, softening as she checked Harry and found some improvement. It was impossible to not be moved by the devotion Hermione had shown him. She could not help but think back to when Hermione had been attacked by the basilisk and Harry had brought her flowers and sat by her bedside, holding her petrified hand.
"Of course not. I'm sure she's exactly where she belongs." As usual, Dumbledore's reaction was unlike what anyone else's would have been. Besides, I wouldn't want to earn another tongue-lashing from Ms. Granger should I suggest she move." He winked at Ron who was now thoroughly shocked.
Hermione, tongue-lashing, and Dumbledore? What had he missed last night?
"Though," Dumbledore continued, "I did fare better than Professor Snape who is probably still nursing his bruised ego this morning."
Ron's eyes bulged. Hermione had told off Snape too? "What got into her?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I believe it is called love, Mr. Weasley." He looked back to the sleeping witch. "A word to the wise--don't cross Ms. Granger where Harry is concerned."
Ron wondered if that was the headmaster's not so subtle way to warn him to not try to come between Harry and Hermione. "Professor, I learned a long time ago to not cross Hermione, period. She's scary. Brilliant, but scary."
Dumbledore nodded and invited Ron to come down for lunch. "Your mother has prepared us a wonderful meal. She's been busy all morning."
They decided to let Hermione sleep. She needed rest more than she needed food. Ron, on the other hand, was grateful to have a distraction. It had been a bit depressing for him, knowing that his two best friends were now a couple. Where did that leave him?
Ron had been gone about thirty minutes when Harry began to stir. He was acutely aware of a pounding in his head and a dull ache in his chest. He slowly brought his left hand to his skull and felt the soft bandages. In a flash of memory, he saw Vernon holding the water globe high above him and bringing it down upon him. He saw a flash of the carpet in the den and remembered a piercing, suffocating pain in his side.
He moved very slowly, reaching his right hand over, feeling for Hermione. He knew she was with him. He found her hand.
"Roll over," he told himself, but it seemed it would be an arduous chore. He turned his head, causing a stabbing sensation, it was as if flashes of light were piercing through his brain. His vision blurred and he held his eyes tightly shut for a minute before blinking several times to try to focus. She was facing him, sleeping deeply. She was pale and her face was streaked from crying. Even asleep, she had dark circles under her eyes.
He squeezed her hand to let her know he was there. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, but he was too sore and too weak to move.
Hermione felt his hand tighten over hers and her eyes fluttered open. She saw beautiful green eyes watching her intently. "Harry," she whispered.
"Why you look so sad?" he asked, struggling to keep his bleary eyes open.
"He hurt you so badly," another hitch caught in her breath as her eyes filled with fresh tears. She stroked his cheek, grateful that he felt warmer than he had before.
"I'll be okay," he promised as the darkness pulled him back. It was so inviting, so strong...
"Harry," she whimpered. She was relieved that he had regained consciousness, even if it had been brief. She got up carefully to go tell the others and get Madame Pomfrey to check on him.
She quietly descended the stairs to look for Madame Pomfrey.
"Hermione!" Molly exclaimed when she saw the girl at the kitchen entrance. She rushed to her side and ushered her in as if she needed help to stand. "Here, sit, have some tea and something to eat."
"Harry woke up," she started, refusing to sit down. "Just for a minute. I thought he should be checked."
"Did he say anything?" Dumbledore asked. He wondered if Harry would even remember what had happened to him.
"He told me I looked sad, then said he would be okay and blacked out again," she explained. He wasn't awake long. I want someone to check on him," she repeated.
"Of course," Madame Pomfrey agreed and she was headed up the stairs in seconds. Molly and Hermione followed.
Ron, Remus, and Dumbledore were left in the kitchen. Hermione's parents were both in the Black family library, intrigued by what they were learning about the magical world.
"That's Harry for you," Remus said. "He notices someone else is hurting even when he's been through hell."
"What happened to his uncle?" Ron asked. He did not want to bring the subject up in front of his mother. He could tell she was very rattled over Harry's injuries.
"He's currently in the form of a slug in a small jar in the room I've been using as an office," Dumbledore answered.
"Did you forget to poke holes in the lid?" Ron asked hopefully with a sly grin on his face.
Dumbledore gave Ron a reproving look over the top of his spectacles.
"Slug, you say?" Ron reached for the salt shaker on the table and his face shown as if a brilliant idea had come to him.
"Mr. Weasley," There was a warning in Dumbledore's voice. Ron put the salt back in place with a frown.
"You know, there's a full moon in a few days," Remus started. "It would be a shame if I forgot to take my potion and happened upon some poor unsuspecting Muggle, wouldn't it."
"Remus," The same warning was there.
"Just making conversation, Professor." Remus shrugged his shoulders innocently. "Things like that happen sometimes."
"I think you had your fun," Dumbledore replied.
"What did you do?" Ron asked, eager to here the story.
Remus grinned. "First, we let Hagrid get him out of bed and just the sight of Hagrid terrified the yellow-bellied piece of vermin. Your dad had to keep Hagrid from ripping him limb from limb. We sent him back with Harry. However, per John Granger's suggestion, I bound him to a chair and John found this Muggle thing called a drill and approached the scum's mouth. I'm not sure what a drill does, but John assured me that it would be a horrifying experience for a Muggle to be approached by a dentist with a large drill. It was this spinning piece of metal on a base." He shrugged again. "Apparently he was right because he begged John to have mercy and not hurt him. John laughed and said he would let Arthur and I take over then. We shrank him, blew him up, gave him jelly legs, turned him green, bounced him around the room like a rubber ball, levitated him upside down and put a tickling curse on him until he could not breathe, and lit a fire around him that made him think we were going to burn him alive. The harshest, most appropriate, thing we did was curse him to feel exactly what he had done to Harry for himself. He wailed in agony for quite a while. Eventually, we turned him into a slug and brought him to Dumbledore."
"Cool," Ron said approvingly as the images of Vernon played through his mind.
Dumbledore held one hand to his left ear. "It's funny how deafness strikes me with no warning on occasion," he commented. "I do wonder what I've missed. I think I will go check on Harry and maybe my hearing will return to normal," he added as he rose from the table.
Dumbledore found that Harry was awake again. Hermione was sitting on the bed next to him, Madame Pomfrey was in the process of changing the dressings on his head. Molly was standing in the corner of the room, trying to stay out of the mediwitch's way. "You'll be good as new in a few days," she was saying. "Nasty injury, this was." He wondered if Poppy felt it was a poor reflection of her skills that she could not heal Harry immediately. He waited until she was finished to ask if he could speak with Harry alone, then closed the door after the three females left.
He took the seat where Hermione had spent most of the night. "How are you feeling, my boy?"
"Okay," Harry replied. He was still paler than normal and sore. However, the potion he had taken earlier was helping dull the pain in his abused body.
"Do you remember what happened?" Dumbledore prodded.
Harry nodded, but did not volunteer the information.
"Can you tell me about it?"
Harry stared at the ceiling above him, not wanting to make eye contact with the headmaster. "Vernon," he answered. He did not want to discuss what had happened. There was no use in talking about it.
"Yes, we gathered that Vernon was the one who attacked you. Can you talk to me about what happened?"
Harry shrugged. "Nothing."
"Harry, sometimes it's best to deal with things sooner rather than later. If you wait, the pain can build up and be even worse," his tone was very kind.
"I'm fine," Harry reiterated. "I just have a headache and want to sleep." He actually felt much better since he had taken the medicine. But he hoped that Dumbledore would go away to let him rest, go away and stop looking at him with those damn twinkling blue eyes, go away and let Hermione come back, or just go away.
"What made him angry?" Dumbledore pried.
"You left me on his doorstep," Harry answered dryly. He could not remember a time when Vernon had not been angry with him, he just remembered differing levels of anger.
Dumbledore considered the answer. Yes, he had known that Harry's uncle was cruel. He had known the boy was kept in a cupboard and punished severely. "Why do you suppose he became violent this time?"
"Everyone has their breaking point," Harry responded, tears welling in his eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. He almost felt sorry for the bastard. He had, after all, had to put up with Harry for 15 years. He'd had this crazy situation thrust on him with no choice in the matter, just as Harry had no choice in his life. It was inconsiderate for Harry to fall out of the sky with no warning. Had they only told Vernon he was coming, Vernon would have gotten rid of the guest.
"Yes, everyone does," Dumbledore agreed. He knew that Harry was talking about himself, just as much as, if not more so than he was talking about Vernon Dursley. "Harry, did you provoke your uncle? Do you think you deserved to be hurt like this?"
The tears Harry was fighting were winning the battle as they slipped out of the corner of his eye, and slid down his cheek onto his pillow. He swallowed the lump in his throat and remained quiet.
"Did he let you explain?" Dumbledore asked, refusing to give up and let Harry shoulder the responsibility for this.
Harry closed his eyes. Go away. Go away. Go away. He felt the older man's hand clutching his own.
"I know you must be wondering why you had to go back to your family and why there was no time to warn them," he began. "You see, I was researching the blood bond. Even though it is not as strong and protective as it once was, it is still there. And, Harry, every bit of protection you have in this situation is imperative. I knew your relatives treated you badly and I wanted to know if the bond was worth your unhappiness when good people like the Weasleys have offered to let you stay with them during the holidays. I found a very old passage in an ancient language that I had to translate which was no easy task in itself. It said that the blood bond peaks in strength on anniversary of birth because it is the day the familial bond was created. It was essential that you be with your Aunt at least a portion of your birthday to gain the most benefit from the remnants of your mother's sacrifice." He squeezed Harry's hand. "Otherwise, I would not have insisted you return to them. No, I would have been most pleased for you to finish your holiday abroad."
"It's okay," Harry whispered. "It's not your fault." He never opened his eyes. He did not want to see those blue eyes he had trusted so much, those eyes that had betrayed him by keeping the truth from him.
"Harry, what you need to understand is that it is not your fault."
"I'm... oh... kay." Harry said as firmly as he could. He was fighting to keep his teeth from chattering with nerves. His felt as if every nerve in his body was on fire. He did not want to discuss this. He did not want to talk with anyone about the way his family despised who and what he was. He found himself sympathizing with the Dursleys more and more. They did not ask for the responsibility of another baby, a wizard baby who could make things happen without any control or intent. They had to take on the expense of him when they had their own child to support. They valued normalcy and he was anything but normal. They had a perfectly nice little life until he came along and disrupted it for 15 years. What was the gripe he had anyway? They had given him the scraps of their food, the scraps of Dudley's clothes, the scraps of their space. It was befitting. He was a scrap, a leftover, and that's what suited him.
Vernon's voice echoed in his mind, "We gave you the food off our table and a roof over your head." They had done that. What more could he expect? They did not want him. They did not love him. But they kept him alive. He had disturbed their happiness. His being there put their lives in danger, but they took care of him anyway. Yes, Vernon was perfectly within his right to be angry. Harry considered the revenge he had thought he wanted for his miserable first ten years with them. Revenge for what? He had no right to be angry, none at all.
Dumbledore watched the emotions play across Harry's face. Though he had told himself he would not pry into the boy's mind, he had caught a glimpse into his thoughts. "Harry, do you understand that it was wrong for your uncle to hit you like that?" He asked, concerned about the inappropriate acceptance Harry had for what had happened to him. "Do you understand that it was wrong of him to break your ribs and to choke you, no matter how angry he was?"
Harry turned his head to face Dumbledore.
"Do you understand that no matter how angry he gets, it is not okay for any adult to hurt a child? Yes, I know you do not feel like a child. You've not had much of a childhood at all... and I guess you never will." He added regretfully. "But, Harry, you were entrusted to this man's care. They had the option to not take you in, but they did. In doing so, they were bound to care for you. He did not have the right to hurt you. Harry, he could have killed you with his attack. I'm afraid if we had not sent for you, he may done just that. You do not deserve to be hurt. You do not deserve to be killed. Yes, you are different from the Dursleys. That does not make you worse than them, less than them, or beneath them. If a man can be measured by how he treats others, your uncle falls very short of the standards of decency."
Harry tried to digest what Dumbledore was saying. Of course, he knew in his mind that the aged wizard was right. The problem lay in getting his heart to accept it. "Who came after me?" he asked.
"Remus, Hagrid, Arthur, and John Granger."
"Mr. Granger?" he repeated. The man had traveled on a wizard rescue mission for him. He really did care. "How?"
"Remus took him with him. It was good he did too since John knew exactly where to find you and that time they saved searching for you was essential."
"The cupboard," Harry whispered. He did not remember being brutally shoved inside it, bleeding and broken, but he knew that's where his uncle would have put him to die.
Dumbledore nodded. "I fear I may have made a mistake in leaving you with the Dursleys as your guardians. I focused more on protecting you from the remaining Death Eaters and your own reputation than I did on simply protecting you."
"My own reputation?" Harry asked, thinking back to his first steps into the wizarding world. He wondered if things would have been different if he had been brought up as just another wizard child, rather than being isolated.
"How do you think you would have turned out had you been raised by a wizarding family?" He was silent while Harry pondered the question.
Harry considered it. Everyone who first met him seemed to do so with either adulation or contempt with no middle ground. He knew that he had gotten away with breaking rules and that there were certain perks to being The Boy Who Lived, despite how much he hated it. "Like a cross between Draco Malfoy and my cousin Dudley," he answered, concluding that he would probably been spoiled and pampered. But, having witnessed what that life did to two of the boys he loathed most, he saw the value in not being raised in the midst of his own fame.
Dumbledore gave a slight nod, acknowledging Harry's understanding.
"What happened to my uncle?" Harry asked. It had occurred to him that if Hagrid was angry, and he surely would have been, that Vernon could have been hurt just as badly as he had hurt him.
"Your uncle is here, Harry."
Harry looked at Dumbledore, eyes wide. "Wh, why? Where?"
"In a jar in my office."
Harry nodded, then realized what the headmaster had said. "In a jar?"
"Yes, somehow he was transfigured into a slug. I am afraid I was unable to hear any of the other details."
Harry grinned at the idea of his uncle, the slug.
"It is up to you what shall be done with him. But I do want you to see him before you make your decision."
"No," Harry responded immediately. "I, I don't want to see him." Fear. It was growing in his belly like a fire. No, I can't be afraid. I can't let him do that to me. If Voldemort had not reduced him to a quivering coward, surely his uncle could not either.
"He is in your world now," Dumbledore reminded him. "And I feel that it is only just that you decide what is done to him after so many years of maltreatment."
Harry was lost in his thoughts for several minutes. What would he do to Vernon? This was his chance. When he was little, he had wished he could shove Vernon in the cupboard and not feed him for a week. He had wished he could turn the man into a rat and send him to forage in the sewers. He had thought of doing magic ad nauseum in front of his uncle, just to watch him squirm. If a man can be measured by how he treats others, your uncle falls very short of the standards of decency, echoed in his mind.
"Take me to him," Harry requested, trying to stand up.
"Easy, easy," Dumbledore, caught the boy's arm, as he also stood.
When Harry got to his feet, the room swayed and blurred. He grasp Dumbledore's arm tightly to keep from falling and found himself in the chair beside the bed.
"I don't think you're ready to stand just yet," Dumbledore voiced the obvious.
"Can you transfigure this into a wheelchair like Muggles use?" Harry asked. He was sure that a wizard as knowledgeable as Dumbledore would know exactly what a wheelchair was.
"Of course," he answered and with a wave of his wand, Harry was in a sturdy wooden wheelchair. It was not nearly as fancy as what Muggles used now, but it would do what he needed it to do.
"Thank you. Where are my glasses?" He asked, looking around the room.
"Broken, I'm afraid. I do not believe that they were returned with you." Dumbledore easily conjured a new pair for him.
"Oh, that's better," Harry said as he put them on. "Please show me where he is."
Dumbledore pushed Harry to the stairs, then levitated him gently to the first floor. As the room he used for his make-shift office was on the other side of the house, they did not pass the kitchen and no one realized Harry was out of bed.
Dumbledore took him to the room and put a locking spell on the door. He then opened the jar that Vernon was in, tipped it over so the slug would fall out, and transfigured him back into a human.
Vernon appeared before Harry like a rapidly inflating balloon. In seconds, he was in human form, standing before the two wizards.
"Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore began. "Your treatment of Mr. Potter was abhorrent. He has survived your vicious attack, however, and is here to decide what is to be done with you."
Vernon was unusually silent as he stood before Harry. He actually appeared to be shocked that Harry was before him in a wheelchair, head bandaged, and in the position to punish him as he saw fit. The tables were definitely turned.
Harry watched the man for a moment. This was it. The moment he had waited for all his life. The time for revenge. He knew enough hexes and curses that he could hurt Vernon without killing him and punish him for every unjust act he had ever perpetrated. Vernon's eyes were darting around the room, looking for a way to escape, as if he expected Harry to attack him at any moment.
"Vernon," he started. Vernon met his eyes. "I just wanted to tell you... thank you for the food, the clothes, and the roof over my head." Harry's voice was very cold. "Thank you for not spoiling me and turning me into a worthless beast like my cousin." He aimed his wand at a lamp and it exploded into shards.
"Thank you for not feeding me as it has made me very short and scrawny and been very beneficial to my position as seeker for my Quiddich team." He ignited a copy of the Daily Prophet which burned brightly and disintegrated.
"Thank you for keeping me locked in a closet. I learned very early to not fear the dark and to not expect comfort." He muttered the incantation to send an angry, hissing cobra from the tip of his wand. It landed at Vernon's feet, flaring it's neck and exposing it's fangs. In Parseltongue, Harry instructed the snake to wrap itself around Vernon's legs, crawl over his body and rest upon his neck. The snake did as it was instructed while sweat and tears flowed from his uncle.
"Thank you making me self-sufficient," Harry spat. He invited the snake to leave his uncle and come sit in his own lap. It glided to him soundlessly and Vernon watched in horror as it obeyed Harry's every command.
"I do not, however, appreciate having my ribs broken, my skull fractured, or being shoved into a cupboard to die!" He raised his voice slightly and every fragile object in the room exploded. Vernon was shaking in terror as he watched Harry. He could feel the power radiating from his nephew. The air was charged with unmistakable energy.
"I, I," Vernon started, clearly trying to formulate some excuse for his hideous behavior.
"Shut up," Harry snapped. "There's no excuse. You went too far." He petted the cobra as if it were a harmless kitten.
"I--"
"I said shut up!" Harry sealed his uncle's lips with a flash of light from his wand. "Do you think I might hurt you?" he asked silkily as he tilted his head to one side. He waited for Vernon to ponder it and the ever increasing sweat on the man's brow gave him his answer. "Do you think I might want to pay you back for the loving way you cared for me for so many years?" he goaded. Vernon's shirt was becoming wet.
"You. Are. Not. Worth. It." Harry told him icily. "You will not reduce me to what you are. Go home, Vernon. But don't forget what you've done. And don't forget the price you could have paid." With a swish of his wand, everything Harry had destroyed was made new and the snake disappeared.
Harry gave a nod to Dumbledore and wheeled himself out of the room.
Dumbledore turned to Vernon. "Extraordinary young man," he commented. "I believe you would have suffered the fate of the lamp had you crossed any other wizard of his power."
Vernon raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"That's right, Mr. Dursley. Your nephew is one of the most powerful wizards to be found anywhere. Even he does not realize how great his skills are." Dumbledore leaned closely into Vernon. "Still, he knows that could have destroyed you with two words. He could caused you every bit of pain you have caused him magnified ten thousand times and not had the mercy to end it. Instead, he's letting you go free." Dumbledore stood straight again. "Yes, Mr. Dursley, Harry Potter is an extraordinary lad. You may count yourself lucky."
Vernon was still visibly trembling. He knew the man standing before him was as powerful as he had just realized Harry was. In addition, this man was obviously as protective of Harry as the wizards who had entered his home had been, maybe even more so.
"Don't worry, Mr. Dursley. I will not harm you physically since Harry did not see fit to do so. I do, however, have an item of business to attend to with you before I send you back where you came from." Dumbledore got a piece of parchment from his desk and brought it to the terrified man. "You will sign this," he instructed.
Vernon glanced at the paper and signed his name. Then Dumbledore sent him away in a flash.