Chapter 2: The Dream and the Dursleys
Harry Potter lay in his uncomfortably small bed at number 4 Privet Drive, hopelessly twisted in his bed sheets. In sleep, unbeknownst to him, he clenched the sides of his bed in a death like grip. His unruly dark hair, normally in a state of disarray, was flattened with sweat against his head and forehead, and he tossed back and forth, trying even in slumber to rid himself of the scene that was literally playing out before him.
(The dream)
"Welcome my faithful servants," Voldemort hissed, grinning skeletal-like and gesturing with a sweep of his arm to the group of around twenty death eaters.
They stood deep in the heart of the dead forest of Kavan, in a circle near the ruins of what had been Voldemort's cabin, torn down at the end of the previous school year. The dead trees seemed to have twisted their knarled limbs together in a circular clearing around the group, some of the limbs reaching to the dark starry sky, and some reaching out and down, as if partaking in the meeting.
Harry saw himself, Hermione and Ron, bound by the Immobulus curse, lying on the ground. Harry and Ron were laid perpendicular to each other, their heads touching, and Hermione was laid out at their feet. Her head towards Ron's feet, she could move only it, and she turned her frightened eyes in Harry's direction, her watery gaze making contact with his own. All three were breathing hard, chests heaving with fear, but also with another emotion, a deep glaring regret.
"We failed," Hermione croaked out to the prone forms of Harry and Ron.
The Harry on the ground worked his jaw with a face full of emotion and locked his gaze with Hermione's once more. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…this is my fault…"
"Shut up Harry," said Ron huskily, turning his head and cutting his wet eyes to the side to glimpse Harry's face, "You can't take all the blame you selfish git…We all failed…all of us."
Harry closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anguish. "But I…"
"Ron's right," said Hermione, her voice shaking with barely controlled fear, "We're all to blame…we all made the pact, remember? We're all in this together, we…"
"Never mind," said Harry huskily, squinting his eyes shut and swallowing the thick lump in his throat, "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, I…but I won't die without telling you both how much you mean to me."
As Harry observed himself, Hermione and Ron lying on the ground, he fell back a step in fear and confusion. He tried to yell out to the three prisoners but no sound escaped his lips. He grabbed at his throat frantically, his eyes desperately searching his surroundings for an answer, but the forest had none to give. No one could hear him. Even Voldemort didn't seem to sense the presence of the second Harry, and continued to address his followers in his trademark high-pitched unearthly voice.
"You few have been faithful to me. Because of your unwavering service, you will be duly rewarded, as I promised."
The death eaters, all clad in dark hooded robes that hid their identities, nodded agreeably, shifting intermittently from one foot to the other and glancing towards their captives as if anxious for something to happen.
"With the death of these," Voldemort gestured grandly down towards the three teens, "comes the dawning of a new era…A time in which darkness will rule once again. But not darkness simply for darkness sake, but because darkness is the strongest, the most powerful, and light has been overcome, as it was always destined to be."
The Harry on the ground tilted his head again towards Ron. "Ron, mate, you're my best friend, ever since the first day on the train. You've stuck by me through everything. You…you're like my brother. Y…you don't know how much you mean to me…"
"I know Harry…I know," said Ron thickly, "Same to you…the very same…and you 'Mione."
"Ron…" sobbed Hermione quietly.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and then turned his burning gaze to Hermione, who was stifling a sob and gazing at him helplessly. "'Mione," he whispered gently, "I love you so much…You'll never know…how much…"
"Don't Harry!" she sobbed out, but then squeezed her eyes shut and controlled herself once again, "Please don't…"
"I wish I could've had more time with you," continued Harry in a low voice, "I…I don't know
why we can't…but I want you to know. You mean everything to me."
Hermione's face twisted in anguish as she turned her gaze away from him and sobbed in the back of her throat. "O god Harry, I love you too…"
Voldemort turned toward his minions and drew his wand. "You all know what you're supposed to do."
The second Harry looked wide-eyed from himself and his two friends to Voldemort and found that his body wouldn't obey his mind to move forward, to intercept…
"It is time," said Voldemort simply, but with a hint of the underlying excitement. He gestured two death eaters forward, and they, along with Voldemort approached the three captives. "You two take whichever you want," his red eyes glittered with long-awaited glee, "But Potter's mine."
The two death eaters quickly headed towards their prey, and Voldemort stood over Potter, his arm outstretched, wand inches from Harry's face. He whispered so quietly that only Harry and his mute counterpart near them could hear.
"The end, Potter…I've waited a long time for this."
Harry simply glared up at Voldemort with a set jaw, his eyes glittering with disrespect and an unbendable hatred. "Go to hell."
Voldemort shrugged and smirked. "All in due time…There's so much to accomplish first."
He nodded to the death eater near Ron and the man lowered his hood. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy who, without a pause, pointed his wand to a shaking, wide-eyed Ron and muttered the death curse.
Hermione screamed in anguish as Ron's body immediately relaxed, dead before he could mutter a word.
"RON!" Harry screamed and sobbed out a strangled curse despite himself. "Dammit! Damn you, you son of a…" If he could have moved, he would have torn Voldemort limb from limb.
Voldemort simply smiled; a cold ruthless gesture. He felt no joy at this, no regret. It was simply a necessity. Just as necessary as swatting a mosquito bent on drawing blood.
This fact alone made him a monster. Even the vilest murderer felt some emotion when he killed…hatred, pain, even joy; but Voldemort felt nothing. All that was done was done simply for the gaining of power. There was nothing more and nothing less; the murders were simply a means to an end.
As a trembling Harry turned his furious, anguished gaze back to Voldemort he saw above him, to the sky, a haze of dark gray-black clouds that hadn't been there before. The ominous mist slowly seeped down between the thick limbed trees to hover and swirl almost evilly above the crowd below.
The Harry observing all of this turned his haunted gaze towards Voldemort's minions. Even the Death Eaters seemed frightened, but Voldemort's face registered delight.
"Do you see, Harry?" He looked back down at Potter on the ground before him, "My powers are returning to me…and upon your death, I'll have them back. All of them."
The prone Harry turned his horror filled face down to look at Hermione, who, upon catching his eyes, seemed to draw strength from them, even though her gaze held horror as well.
"Don't give up hope Harry. Even though we're gone, someone else will take our places…He won't win."
Voldemort snorted derisively and looked back down at Harry. "Brave girlfriend you have there Potter…deluded, but brave. How unfortunate I have no use for her, or for you."
He nodded toward the Death Eater that stood over her and he lowered his hood, extending his wand. Neither of the Harry's recognized him.
"Do you remember when we fought here Harry?" said Voldemort quietly, gesturing toward the remains of his ruined cabin, "Do you remember when I told you that I'd get her, one way or the other?" He smiled and nodded again towards the Death Eater near Hermione.
She looked at Harry and whispered his name one more time before she died.
Harry screamed again, an earth-shattering, world-ending, wrenching sound that emanated from his very soul; one that left him pale and weak. His thoughts were completely muddled with despair, so much so that he could barely remind himself to breathe…but what did it matter anymore? They were dead…they were both dead…
"Never let it be said that a dark wizard fails to keep his promises," said Voldemort simply.
The Harry observing all of this fell to his knees in horror, his fingernails scraping at his face in total agony. Ron…O god, Hermione…my 'Mione…
Harry tasted bile and promptly vomited.
The dark clouds began to form together, swirling and whirling in a tornado-like vortex. The wind whipped violently, and the Death Eaters looked up to the sky, nervously moving closer together without even realizing they were doing so.
The dark vortex, now punctured here and there with an eerie flash of red lightening, moved over to swirl and hover directly above Voldemort, and he looked up to it smiling greedily, a look of mad victory playing on his features.
With no long farewell speech, no gloating, he simply turned back towards Harry and lowered his hood, his sickeningly ghostly pale face alive with excitement, his red eyes glowing with madness. He grasped his wand tighter, thrusting it between Harry's eyes.
"Goodbye, Potter…PESTIS CONLABOR!"
After a few moments of agonized twitching, Harry's head dropped to one side.
The Harry watching all of this felt all of his breath leave his body in a powerful whoosh as if he'd been punched. He fell forward on his hands in shock, breathing raggedly but looking up in time to see the vortex begin to descend towards Voldemort.
The dark lord threw up his arms, his long-fingered hands claw-like, and opened his mouth unnaturally wide, actually beginning to swallow the tornado, lightening and all.
"NO!" Harry finally was able to scream wildly. His scar began to throb with an indescribable pain, unlike any he'd experienced yet. "Please NO! NO…NO…NO…"
(End dream)
"NO MORE LAZING ABOUT, I SAID!" bellowed Harry's Uncle Vernon angrily as he finally succeeded in yanking Harry out of his bed and onto the floor.
Harry, who was now big enough to defend himself, and normally would have yanked Vernon Dursley's sausage-like fingers away from his shirt, could only fall to the floor and clutch at his forehead, gritting his teeth against the burning, searing pain that stabbed through his head like a knife.
"Get UP boy!" yelled Dursley, grabbing onto the back of Harry's flannel shirt and attempting to yank him up from the floor, "You think you're gonna sleep down there as well!? UP!"
Harry brought himself to his knees and hissed through his teeth, as much from the pain in his scar as the anger he felt towards his uncle.
He pushed Vernon's beefy hand from his shirt weakly, swallowing down the nausea that always accompanied the pain when his scar burned.
Vernon took a step backward and sneered down at his nephew as if he were a piece of rotting garbage that had missed the bin. "What's wrong with you then? You oversleep, breakfast is no where near
on the table and you're lying there on the floor like you're ill…"
"Like you really care?" Harry replied weakly pulling himself up to sit on his bed and resting his head in his hands. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
"You'll be down NOW!" said Vernon reaching a hand out to grasp Harry by the arm. But Harry grabbed the man's wrist in his own powerful grip and looked up at his uncle with a warning glance that stopped him in his tracks. He answered his uncle calmly.
"I need to wake up, and shower…then I'll be down to get your breakfast."
Vernon shot a look of glazed fury Harry's way and yanked his wrist back, pointing a shaking finger in his nephew's face. "You dare to speak to me in that insolent tone, boy!? I'll have you scrubbing this house spotless every Saturday from now until next month when you finally go back to that ruddy unnatural school of yours, do you hear me!?"
"All of Wales can hear you!" Harry shot back angrily, standing up and towering over his uncle, "I'll be down in a few minutes! Now either you can go down and wait for me, or you can stay up here and yell while I take a shower. It's your choice!"
Vernon scowled and narrowed his small eyes, his beefy, red face puffed up with anger. His nephew might be too big to bully anymore, but he certainly wasn't immune to threats; and his real power, magic, (Vernon loathed the "m" word), was not allowed outside of Hog…his school. Dursley smiled humorlessly. He always had his trump card.
"Careful Harry. You've still got a year left in this house until you're eighteen. Until then, you do as I say and obey my rules or you're OUT! Then where would you go?"
Harry opened his mouth to tell Vernon that A) he could always live at the Burrow with the Weasleys or with the Grangers, and B) that his uncle could go to hell, in that order, but stopped himself.
He wasn't stupid. Dumbledore had him here for a reason. There were so many spells and safeguards on this house to keep him from harm that if the Dursleys ever found out, they would probably all suffer from simultaneous strokes. He had to stay there at least until he turned eighteen and could finally inherit all the money his parents had left him, and blessedly strike out on his own; safeguards be damned.
Harry gritted his teeth in minor defeat and nodded in deference to his uncle. "I'll be down in a few minutes…I promise."
Vernon's jaw worked as he nastily stared Harry up and down and finally turned to leave. "See that you are!" His large form seemed to shake the frame of the house as he stomped down the hall and down the stairs.
Harry turned with a sigh to rummage through his bureau for clean clothes and heard his Aunt Petunia across the hall, gently shaking his whale-sized cousin Dudley awake.
"Dudders…sweet pea…it's almost time for brekkie…Won't you come down now?"
Dudley rolled his massive body onto his back and pulled his pillow over his head, grumbling angrily. "Wh…what time is it…"
"It's seven o'clock pumpkin…time for brekkie so you can get to school."
"Wh…why do I hafta go to school today!?" whined a muffled Dudley angrily from beneath his pillow, "Why can't I have the day off!?"
Petunia bit her bottom lip with her large front teeth and gently shook her son again. "B…because Diddy dear…Smart, talented boys like yourself need to finish their education…"
"Because you flunked senior year and you're in summer school," called out Harry as he padded past Dudley's room towards the bathroom.
At this, Dudley growled and sprang up from his bed as quickly as his fat form would allow, nearly knocking his mother down in an attempt to fly at his cousin. But Harry, being quicker by far, merely shut the bathroom door and locked it behind him.
"Harry!" screamed Dudley furiously, banging on the door, "You great hideous PRICK! I'll get you for that one! Come out, YOU!"
"What was that?" yelled Harry turning on the shower full force.
"Turn off the water!" screamed Dudley, "Come out here and FACE ME!"
"Sorry, DUD…can't hear you! I've got the water running!"
Harry grinned easily and undressed, stepping into the shower and letting the water drown out his irate cousin's reply. Dudley hated it when Harry called him Dud… the meaning was so obviously implied…even to him. The banging on the door finally stopped, probably due to Petunia's soothing, and Harry was left to enjoy his very short shower in peace.
As he let the water cascade down his tense body, Harry thought about his situation for not the first time.
Not much had changed at number four, Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon was still a bully, though not as much as he used to be since Harry was now much taller and stronger and could fend for himself. The one thing he still had over Harry was the fact that Harry was still his charge and personal slave until his eighteenth birthday. By Muggle law, and secretly, by Dumbledore's own law, Harry had to stay with the Dursley's until then, though he was sure as soon as the day of his eighteenth birthday arrived, Vernon would have him tossed out on his ear by the time the clock struck twelve a.m.
Little did his uncle know though that Harry would be well taken care of. His parents had seen to that.
Petunia was still a simpering, gossipy nag who twittered around and doted on her enormous son and with equal measures, hated Harry because of he and his late parent's "oddities".
And Dudley…Dudley was still an enormous, bratty, selfish prick of a lad who adored only two things in life; food and torturing Harry…in that order. Though the latter was proving rather difficult in recent years. Harry was simply too big to be pushed around anymore, by anyone. But the Dursley's control had always been more emotional than physical.
Harry closed his eyes and hung his head under the hot water, letting it loosen his knotted muscles and thought briefly back to his dream. If it had just been Hermione and Ron going through that horror, he would have owled them immediately to make sure they were all right but since Harry had been there too, he knew that it hadn't been real.
Still, the burning in his scar made it much more than just a run-of-the-mill nightmare. It wouldn't do to ignore it…he'd certainly learned his lesson about that. After breakfast he would owl them. Besides, he needed to thank them both for the presents they had sent him for his birthday last week, as well as Hagrid and Sirius. He had let Hedwig out to stretch her wings and hunt a bit a couple of days ago and she hadn't yet returned; though Harry knew it would be any day now. She never stayed gone for more than a few days at a time.
Reluctantly, Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to dry himself, dress and start the morning. Another delightful day with the Dursleys, he thought out loud to himself as he scanned his form in the mirror. He was now a good six feet tall though still a few inches shorter than Ron. He had inherited his father's olive-skinned complexion and was bronzed from working out in the yard every day. His hair was still a shock of dark, thick untamable tresses that fell wherever they would, and his eyes, staring back at him through the round glasses were still a bright green.
But no longer did a skinny boy's reflection stare back at him. He had broadened in all the right places; shoulders, chest, arms and legs and had become considerably more muscular within the last two years. He smiled to himself. Not that it mattered a whole lot to him how he'd changed, but Hermione seemed to have appreciated it. She had told him that she loved him for who he was on the inside, but had naughtily added that the outside didn't hurt matters much either. (*wink* from the author ;0)
Hermione…he couldn't wait to see her again. To think it'd been almost two months…
Uncle Vernon's angry voice roared up the stairs, sharply bringing Harry's thoughts back to the present. "Boy, if I have to yell for you again there WILL be consequences!"
Try them, thought Harry dangerously, but thought better than to reply in kind. "Be right there…"
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