Chapter Three: Dudley's New Diet
“Did you never wonder why I supposedly offered to let your Mudblood mother live, Harry? You disappoint me...perhaps Severus was right after all...”
He was genuinely disappointed, and his red eyes were burrowing into mine, probing. I was sitting in a not uncomfortable chair unable to move. I could feel magic holding me down. I wasn’t scared; I’d long since run out of fear. I wanted to reply but I couldn’t; I couldn’t open my mouth.
“Oh, Harry. You never presumed to understand one as dark and evil as I? How could someone as pure and righteous as you possibly empathise with one like me?”
He laughed, cold and high pitched. The sound echoed around the cavernous room. It was the room I had first seen him in. He was sitting in the winged chair above me, superior.
“Do you want the truth Harry? The truth is a glorious thing: absolute and beyond discussion, beyond the weak interpretation of mortals. I wish to share the truth with you, Harry, because I think you would understand it. I have seen into your mind and I see great potential. The great Lord Voldemort offers you one of the greatest gifts any wizard can offer another. And if you properly appreciate it, why, I may even offer you the greatest thing a Wizard can offer another. It would be poor form of me not to return the gift, after all, Harry.”
“The world is a complex thing, Harry. Good, evil, dark and light: these are adjectives to describe people, spells and actions used by the feeble minded to categorize and classify that which they do not understand. The world is not discrete Harry. It is a continuous, many dimensional thing, which above all, is plutocratic. The rule of the many by the few with wealth: wealth of possession, knowledge, charisma but most importantly of all magical power. You will be able to understand my past, my future and my present because you are wealthy, Harry. I will share with you the necessary knowledge to properly interpret it, and you will understand. You may even survive, if you are strong enough.”
He smiled, cruel and unyielding.
“Now, I will show you what really happened to your parents, Harry. I believe that you will find yourself caring less about the truth once you know it. You will lose this immature fixation with the past and embrace the future. It is the only way that we grow up; you must walk out from beneath your parents’ shadows. And by showing you their form, I will allow it to become possible. Look into my eyes, Harry, and see what your mentor kept from you.”
I looked into his eyes, unable to disobey. I wasn’t spelled, I was curious. I believed him. I gazed into the red glow and found myself pulled in, the red glow becoming the brilliant sunset over a hill of a Halloween night over a decade ago.
BANG!
I woke with a start. I groaned and pulled my pillow over my face, trying to muffle out the sound of Aunt Petunia bashing on the door to get me out of bed.
“Alright, alright, I’m up,” I yelled at the door.
I only had a few more days before I’d be able to go to the Weasleys’ for the rest of the holidays, but the Dursleys were being even more disagreeable than usual. Either that or I’d become less tolerant of their stupidities. It was a distinct possibility. When I’d arrived at the Dursleys a week earlier accompanied by Tonks, I’d flat out refused to put my Trunk under the stairs, going so far as to point my wand between the fat man’s eyes. Tonks tried to defuse the situation but it had only been resolved when Vernon had agreed to allow me to keep my trunk, as long as there was no ‘funny business’. It might have had something to do with the small burn mark I noticed on his forehead after I had removed the wand.
Unfortunately, the improved behaviour of the Dursleys had only lasted about an hour or so before they forgot their recently acquired manners. There wasn’t a lot I could do about it without receiving a nasty letter from the Ministry about underage magic. I had briefly considered it, weighing up the likelihood that Scrimgeour would push it under the carpet in exchange for some face time with the Boy-Who-Lived on the front page of the prophet, but had decided that I didn’t particularly feel like being blackmailed by the new Minister.
I slowly walked to my door and yanked it open, heading towards the bathroom. Going around the corner, I found the landing was blocked by the not-inconsiderable bulk of my cousin.
Considering him for a moment, I deemed him unworthy of my attention and made to step around him, eager to have my morning shower in peace.
This was my first mistake of that day. Instead of merely letting me travel around him, as any stupid Muggle with a wizard for a cousin would do, Dudley decided it would be prudent to punch me in the back of the head.
Seeing stars, and falling to the floor, I spun round snarling.
Instinctively I raised my hand, thinking accio. I was shocked to see my wand hurtling toward me from my bedroom towards my outstretched hand. Wandless summoning was a new trick for me.
Grabbing it out of the air with Seeker reflexes, I turned it on Dudley. The power I held over him was intoxicating. I remembered all the time he’d hit me, chased me and generally ruined my life.
“What’d you do that for Dudders?” I asked, my face adorned with a cruel smile.
“Y-you did magic! I’m telling Mum!” Dudley was looking at the wand in my hand with terror. At least he wasn’t completely stupid.
“That’s right Dudley. You remember that big man you met a few years ago? Gave you that delightful pig’s tail?” I asked viciously, “Well I always felt a bit bad for him. You know, tried to do a charm and didn’t quite manage to pull it off. It always seemed a bit sad really. I bet he was really broken up about it. I reckon It’d be awful nice of me to finish the charm off for him. You know, then he won’t feel like quite so much as a failure of a wizard.”
I gracefully rose to feet, my magic seemingly helping to push me up. The effect wasn’t lost in Dudley. He seemed petrified.
I began waving my wand in an intricate, pointless pattern, enjoying the look of terror imprinted on his face. He would learn his lesson.
“MUM!” Dudley yelled, now stumbling backwards.
I couldn’t have that.
I pointed my wand at Dudley and gave it a soft flick, unfamiliar Latin words racing through my head. With a soft pop a pig appeared where Dudley had been standing a second before, complete with a pile of manure.
Momentarily shocked as to how I knew how to perform the transfiguration, I looked up to see Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon coming round the corner.
“What have you done, boy?” Uncle Vernon roared, looking at the pig in shock.
“I helped Dudders with his diet. I figure he’s lost at least five stone,” I replied, gesturing at the pig which was now waddling towards its parents.
“What? Put him right! You’re going to be expelled for this!” Uncle Vernon screamed, spit flying from his mouth.
“I don’t think so.” I replied, oddly sure of myself.
I heard a loud knocking on the front door and decided to vacate the area before the Order arrived. One day I’d come back for my Aunt and Uncle.
Instinctively, I spun on the spot and dissaparated.
I appeared with a soft pop in Diagon Alley, opposite Ollivander’s. I hadn’t consciously decided to apparate here; it had been instinctive. I now realised I was just wearing pyjamas and hurriedly transfigured them into robes before I attracted too much attention. I walked towards the Leaky Cauldron, planning to rent a room and get some food whilst waiting for the Ministry to catch up with me. They would have detected the spell use. The new Minister would probably forgive and forget in exchange for some political capital. I wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with Dumbledore though.
The dreams I’d been having were troubling. They didn’t unsettle me nearly as much as I thought they should. It seemed logical to suspect they were from the time I was captured; perhaps leaking out from a memory charm I was under. I wouldn’t tell Dumbledore; I didn’t trust him. It was an instinctive lack of trust which was new to me, as well as a rational analysis of what I now remembered. He was hiding something from me.
I was about ten paces from the front of the Leaky Cauldron when the subject of my muse appeared in front of me, wand drawn. There was no sound to accompany his apparation.
He immediately caught sight of me and lowered his wand, looking intensely relieved. He began walking towards me, as I had stopped making my way to the inn.
“Harry, we must talk,” Dumbledore said simply but firmly.
I immediately noticed his left hand was injured; it was black and burnt-looking. Now didn’t seem to be the appropriate time to inquire into his health, so I nodded and followed him into the Leaky Cauldron.
Dumbledore bought a private parlour from Tom with some breakfast, whilst I kept my head down planning what I would say. There wasn’t a lot I could say to get out of it. I would just come clean.
I followed Dumbledore into the parlour. Dumbledore shut the door with a flick of his wand and sat down, indicating for me to do the same. I complied, sitting opposite the headmaster who appeared to be deep in thought.
“Harry, I must stress upon you my severe disapproval of your actions today, “ Dumbledore began, having snapped out of his reverie, “that said, I have been informed that your cousin did in fact precipitate your action by attacking you first. However, your action was disproportionate to the extreme.”
I remained silent; I couldn’t think of anything to say that would change the Headmaster’s opinion.
“You will be relieved to know, I’m sure, that your cousin has been returned to his proper form and your relatives’ memories have been modified...again,” He said disapprovingly.
“You will also be pleased to know that the Ministry does not know of what occurred at your relatives’ house.”
“How do they not know? I used magic, intentionally. They should have detected it like before.”
“How they do not know, I am not sure. I have a theory however, which I should like to test. If you will allow me?” Dumbledore asked, indicating his wand.
I nodded. Dumbledore rose and pointed his wand at my head, muttering under his breath. The tip of his wand glowed pale blue and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“Most interesting. It would appear that the trace on you has been removed,” Dumbledore said, looking pensive.
“What trace, sir”?
“Ah, I apologise Harry. Soon after babies are born to magical parents, a trace is placed upon them by the Ministry which allows them to trace underage magic use. The same happens to Muggleborn children when they are informed about the magical world. The trace should only expire when you become of age, not before. I can only assume that yours was removed by Lord Voldemort. Perhaps he believed it could be used to track your location somehow. I assume you are not aware how your trace has come to be removed?”
“No, sir,” I replied honestly, “how did you find me so quickly then, sir? I know the Order must be watching the house, but you found me only a couple of minutes after I arrived here.”
“After Miss Tonks entered your relatives’ house she discerned from your hysterical aunt and uncle that you had apparated away. She immediately informed me. I first went to the Burrow expected you to have gone there. When you weren’t there I came here, judging it to be the next most likely place you would go. It would appear I was correct.”
I nodded.
“This does beg the question, however, of how you came to be here Harry. You do not hold an apparation license and nor have you ever learnt how to at Hogwarts. How did you learn?” Dumbledore was peering at me closely now but didn’t seem to be using Legilimency.
“I don’t know sir. It came instinctively, like I’d always known how to do it.”
“Have you ever done it before?” He asked quickly.
“Uh, I did it just after I woke up in that field near that Muggle’s house. I apparated across the field when I wasn’t really thinking about it.”
“What about before then?”
“When I was younger I think I accidently apparated onto a roof. It was just accidental magic, I think.”
“Hm. Some people do naturally learn to apparate under stressful circumstances. And the fact that you apparently did it when you were very young leads me to believe that you learned to apparate on your own sometime during your capture. Perhaps it is how you came to escape Lord Voldemort. He would have known that you cannot apparate and perhaps did not have anti-apparation wards up. You may have managed to obtain your wand and simply escaped on your own. Of course, this does not explain how you came to lose your memory.”
Dumbledore appeared to stay deep in thought, the tips of his fingers together beneath his chin. I got a closer look at his left hand at this point: the flesh looked dead and rotting.
“Sir? What happens now then?”
“Ah, forgive me. I sometimes become easily distracted. The signs of advanced age, I fear. I would suggest it would be best not to inform the Ministry about the morning’s events. With regards to your trace: to coin a muggle expression; I won’t tell if you don’t,” Dumbledore said, smiling.
“Yeah, I don’t think it would be good if they found out.”
“Excellent. Now that you have left the Dursley’s of your own accord, I think it would be acceptable if you were to stay at the Burrow for the remainder of the holidays. However, it would not be fair on Molly for you to intrude with no prior warning. I shall leave you here for the time being. Perhaps Miss Tonks would feel happy to accompany you around Diagon Alley. I will return this evening to accompany you to the Burrow. I think there is a task which you will be of some assistance with before we arrive there.”
“Okay then,” I said, particularly relieved I wouldn’t have to return to the Dursleys. My curiosity got the better of me at this point, “what happened to your hand?”
“That is a most wonderful tale, Harry. I will recount the details of it to you at Hogwarts; it is most deeply intertwined with the things I have to teach you this year. For now, I shall have to be going though. I will ask Miss Tonks to come here post haste to keep you company. I ask that you stay here until she arrives.”
I nodded in compliance and Dumbledore walked out of the door as a large plate of bacon, eggs and sausages appeared on the table.
Helping myself to the food, I put my mind to the events of the day. How had I learned to apparate? I’d have to practice it at some point, it wasn’t that useful if I could only do it subconsciously without being able to decide on my destination. My apparent lack of a trace could also prove useful. I mentally toyed with the idea of returning to the Dursleys one night and having some fun. I would have to master apparition first however, I didn’t think I would ever instinctively apparate to Privet Drive.
“Wotcher, Harry.” I was startled out of my thoughts by the arrival of Tonks, sporting her signature bubblegum pink hair.
“Hiya, Tonks. How were the Dursleys?” I asked, smiling.
“Bloody awful! I can understand why you turned that idiot cousin of yours into a pig. I think he was more disgusting in human form to be honest. Not to mention the ability to speak made him infinitely more unpleasant.”
“Yeah, sorry about getting you involved in all that.”
“It’s alright Harry. We all lose our tempers sometime. And you haven’t had an easy time of it lately...”
“Hrm. So you memory charmed the Dursleys after you got Dudley fixed up then?”
“Yeah, they don’t remember a thing, unfortunately. I think they could do with a bit of a lesson to tell you the truth. It was a nice bit of transfiguration by the way, took like five times for me to undo it. You should have seen the look on your Aunts’ face when I told her I was having trouble undoing it.”
I genuinely smiled at this. Tonks was right though; it was a shame the Dursleys had their memories whipped.
“So I hear you’re on babysitting duty for the day then?”
“Psht. I don’t mind spending the day running around Diagon Alley. Beats walking back and forth in front of your house pretending to be a different person every time.”
“Fair enough, do you mind if we go to Flourish and Blott’s? I want to get a few books”
“Books don’t sound like much fun, Harry. I thought you’d be more into the broomstick places,” Tonks observed, dryly.
“True, but a few books on curses wouldn’t go amiss,”
Tonks laughed, evidently thinking I was joking.
“Sure, we can go in a minute. Do you mind if I finish off your fry up? I haven’t had a chance to get breakfast yet.”
“Sure.”
I watched Tonks hurriedly gobble down the remaining food before following me out the door.
“Now, Harry. Who would you like to be seen accompanying around Diagon Alley? It wouldn’t be good if the Auror office found I was escorting you shopping when I was off-duty, especially after what happened at your relatives house.”
I shrugged, not particularly caring.
“Well, how about Hermione? She’s not too harsh on the eyes, eh?” She said, having morphed her face into that of Hermione’s
“Nah, that’s alright. Hermione’s just a friend” I replied, catching onto her not-so-subtle insinuations.
“Hmm, how about Ginny then? I hear you two are pretty close” She said, winking and sporting said face.
“Nah, I don’t really go for redheads.”
“Ah, shame. I guess that disqualifies Ron as well then. I know!”
I looked around to see that Tonks had morphed her face into that of Draco Malfoy.
“Yeah, and that’s discrete,” I said sarcastically.
“Alright then, how’s Hermione, but just as friends?” She asked, grinning.
“Thats fine, Tonks. Incidentally, I didn’t know you could do guy’s faces.”
“Oh, it’s a bit trickier, but it helps if their cheekbones aren’t that well pronounced, as in the Malfoy scion’s case”
I allowed myself to laugh softly and begun walking to Flourish and Blott’s, Tonks at my side.
When we arrived at the shop I immediately bee lined for the Defence Against the Dark Arts section, looking for an anthology of combat spells; I wanted to find out the name of the fire spell I’d used against the Muggle and how I’d known about it. I begun flicking through a book entitled “The Defensive Spell Index- Advanced Edition” with Tonks looking curiously over my shoulder, when I found what I was looking for.
Fireburst Curse, The
Type: Offensive, ContinuousEffect: Directional jet of fire, expansion on impact. Magnitude: 1m-5m spherical, dependent on skill of caster.Components: Emotional, Wand Motion.Incantation: Restricted by Ministry of Magic. May be non verbal.Wand Movement: Restricted by Ministry of Magic.Modifications: May be embedded in static wards, has been known to be used non-continuously by experienced users.Defences/Counters: Can overpower Type I shields dependent on relative skills of casting, more advanced shields are effective, however flame can seep around shield boundaries. Competently erected physical shields are also sufficient.Background: Developed in the 17th Century by Necromancers attempting to control Inferi. Restricted by Ministry of Magic in the 19th Century due to its use on wizards and its relative difficulty in combating. Only Ministry officials are permitted to use this curse and only in circumstances requiring its use, such as fighting dark creatures.
Below the description was a moving photo depicting a dozen or so rotting corpses being pushed back by lines of fire searing from behind the photographer.
My memory of using the spell on the muggle leapt to the front of my mind, I saw the wand movement I’d used, my wand moving in a careful spiral before jutting forward. I tried and failed to remember the words that had roared through my head as the fire had erupted from my wand, pushing the man backwards and exploding in a sphere of flames.
“That’s a pretty nasty curse you’ve got there, Harry. I can show you some way cooler stuff.”
I looked up to see Hermione’s- no, Tonks’- smiling face and snapped the book but, not wanting to get into a discussion about this particular spell.
“Do you think we could pop into Gringotts, Tonks? I fancy getting this but I’ve only got Muggle money on me.”
“No worries, Harry. I’ll cover you for now. I reckon your credit is good, besides, I know where you live,” she said grinning.
“Cheers.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur of ice cream, banter and stories of using so-and-so curse on so-and-so person, always with hilarious results. I wondered about the times it didn’t result in hilarity but didn’t ask. By the time Dumbledore appeared to pick me up the sun had begun to set. The mood in the alley had changed from that of a bustling shopping centre into something far more tranquil. Tonks and I had graduated from heaps of ice cream onto coffee and were quietly discussing various spells Tonks knew but one couldn’t easily find in any book.
“So, if you get the wand movement just right they’ll pretty quickly grow a beard which will inexplicably start trying to strangle them of its own accord. Believe me, guys find it pretty hard to continue spelling whilst fighting off their own facial hair. The best bit is a standard finite won’t cancel it unless they apply it to the hair follicles themselves which isn’t most people’s first-“
“I think that’s enough tuition, Nymphadora. I fear Harry is already prodigious enough in a fight without adding your own unique brand of mischief making into the mix,” Dumbledore interrupted, his infernal eyes twinkling away.
“Not prodigious enough,” I replied, darkly.
Dumbledore looked at me sharply before replying, “I apologise, Harry. It was inconsiderate. If you’ll excuse us, Nymphadora, we must be going. I thank you for keep Harry company for the day.”
I drained the last of my coffee, nodded at Tonks as I got up to leave and followed Dumbledore towards the Leaky Cauldron. When we were out of earshot Dumbledore slowed down, held out an arm and said “Harry, if you’ll grasp my good arm I will side-along apparate us to our destination. I have a small favour of you to ask before we arrive at the Burrow...”
Appearing with a loud pop I found myself at the border of the Weasley’s property. The pale moonlight was washing over the house eerily, making it harder it harder for me to note the boundary line that we had apparated beyond. I wanted to know at what point you were able to apparate out from. I released Dumbledore’s arm and followed him as he led me towards the house, walking more slowly than usual.
“Harry, first of all I must thank you for helping to convince Horace that Hogwarts is the best place for him in the current climate. I trust you will find him a most able Professor upon your return to Hogwarts.”
“It wasn’t really hard. It seems we’re not above a little abuse of fame and celebrity to achieve our goals, are we?”
“No, we are not. But it would be wise not to become too fixated on cynicism and bitterness, Harry. Harder challenges are ahead, I’m sure.”
I made a noncommittal noise and Dumbledore continued, now barely moving forward at all. “I have some news from the Ministry for you, Harry. It appears that the new Minister would like to ‘cozy in with you’ already, so to speak. He has organised an award ceremony for you this Christmas where he would like to present you with the Order of Merlin, Third Class. His justification for this is your continued fighting of Dark Wizardry, specifically your encounter with the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries. He also would like to publically renounce the previous administration’s attempts to discredit you when you were professing the return of Lord Voldemort. Aside from the obvious political reasoning behind this change in direction, I believe he is genuinely interested in trying to effectively fight Voldemort. I know it is not in your nature to support political manoeuvring of this kind, but I believe for the greater good it would be wise to acquiesce. Will I be able to pass on your acceptance to the new Minister?”
I found my eyes drawn skyward; I looked up into the starry night and gazed at one star in particular. Bright and twinkling rhythmically, I was intrigued.
“Yeah, I don’t mind,” I replied, still looking up at the stars.
“I must say, Harry, I expected you to object. Thank you for agreeing. I will try to keep the media away from you as much as possible.”
I snorted involuntarily. Who was he kidding? There would be no way to keep the media away from the award ceremony for an Order of Merlin.
“Is there something the matter, Harry?”
“No. Not at all. What star is that? Its familiar, but I can’t remember what it is,” I asked, pointing at the star in question. I was mainly trying to find a way to escape the topic of the conversation. I didn’t feel like an argument about the media with Dumbledore. He was all promises, intentions and no substance.
“Ah, let me see. I believe it is no star, Harry, but the planet Saturn. Perhaps you should spend less time sleeping during Astronomy lessons?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Dumbledore had started moving forward to the house now. Reluctantly I followed, still gazing at the star. There was something special about it, but I couldn’t put my finger on what.
We reached the door and Dumbledore knocked loudly, the sound penetrating the tranquil silence of the garden. It was answered by Molly Weasley, her face alight with delight upon seeing me.
“Come in, Come in!” She said, inviting me into her home. Her frame was silhouetted by warm candle light coming from the kitchen behind her, accompanied by the enticing smell of a slow cooked roast duck.
I walked across the threshold of the house, into the kitchen. Mrs Weasley was going on about how thin I looked, how she needed to feed me up. I wasn’t listening. Dumbledore had started to explain to Mrs Weasley how he must be going, everyone was smiling. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins had come downstairs, alerted by the noise in the kitchen. I answered a few questions about what had happened, evasively. Dumbledore gave me a piercing look before leaving the house via Floo. He was probably wondering why I was being so distant.
“I’m pretty tired, guys. Do you think I could just go up to bed for now?” I asked. I didn’t want to stay downstairs answering questions with everyone being so happy, so friendly.
The light dimmed from Mrs Weasleys eyes somewhat, and Ron and Hermione were looking at me strangely. She nodded and told Ron to show me where I was sleeping, as if I hadn’t figured it out already. I followed Ron up the stairs and into his bedroom. My trunk from the Dursleys had been moved to the room from someone in the Order. I said goodnight to Ron and lay down on my bed ignoring Ron’s puzzlement and pretended to go to sleep. Ron grunted and headed back downstairs, leaving me alone. I pulled out the copy of The Defensive Spell Index and began reading through it in peace.
I was running, running through a field of wheat. The wheat was cutting into my legs as I ran, my black robes were tattered, torn and bloody. I had my wand but I couldn’t use magic on the figure who chased me, nothing happened when I waved my wand. He held a long, curved blade atop a stick. It was a scythe. He was waving it around his head, screaming obscenities at me in a language that I didn’t recognise. He could have been death incarnate if not for the deep white robes he wore, trailing along the field behind him as he effortlessly kept pace with me.
I was out of breath and the figure kept closing in. I tripped and fell, and the figure loomed over me. He lifted the scythe and brought it down towards my face. I lifted my arms in front of my face, trying to protect myself. The scythe cut a long line through my right arm causing an eruption of pain and blood. It dribbled with abandon down my arm onto the ground, spreading into a large puddle. All the wheat that my blood came into contact with began rapidly growing, heading for the sky and thickening. The figure didn’t raise the scythe again, he seemed satisfied. He watched my blood spread, causing more of the wheat to grow and smiled. He spoke in the unfamiliar language again, calmly this time. The wheat that had started growing receded back into the ground, the blood flowed back into my arm and the wound sealed itself. I looked at my arm in shock. It no longer hurt. The figure looked down at me and spoke once more. The scene repeated itself, over and over. My blood flowed, the wheat grew, the wheat shrunk, my blood returned, ad infinitum.
A/N: I didn’t include the scene with Slughorn as it’s pretty unnecessary and I don’t feel like repeating scenes with slight modifications for no good reason. I still haven’t really got the hang of the whole writing thing, so apologies for the clumsiness. I also need to think up some better chapter titles...