Chapter Text
Summer came early to the house of Number 4 Privet Drive and was quickly on track to become one of the hottest summers on record. The second week of July set another record breaking heat wave, forcing the children of Number 4 Privet Drive to be stuck inside yet again.
Dudley Dursley, a large, blond, pig faced boy recruited his younger cousin to play on his new gaming consul Dudley got for his eighth birthday a few days earlier. Dudley’s parent, Vernon and Petunia, had set up a spare TV in the guestroom so Dudley could play his game and the main TV was free for their news programs. Since then, Dudley slowly started moving some of his other toys into the spare guest room. Dudley and Harry sat on the bed, surrounded by neglected toys, untouched books, and an empty hamster cage, watching the monitor intensely.
Harry Potter, Dudley’s cousin, was quite the opposite of Dudley. He was skinny, dark hair with taped-up glasses, and hardly anyone would know that they shared a set of grandparents. The only resemblance they shared was in their little toe. Since Dudley was twice Harry’s weight, that resemblance quickly diminished too.
Dudley instructed Harry to take the second controller. The red button was already smashed in and the joystick would occasionally get stuck so his character would end up running in the same direction. Harry didn’t mind. Harry rarely got to play video games and as long as he let Dudley win, he would escape unscathed. Dudley had a bad reputation for being a sore loser. Giving Harry a black eye just meant Dudley was evening the score.
After Dudley’s fifth consecutive win, he still punched Harry in the arm.
“You’re not trying hard enough!” complained Dudley, selecting his new character. “I’ll never beat Peirce if you don’t start playing better.”
“Then give me your controller,” said Harry, rubbing his arm. “If you can beat me with a broken controller, they you will definitely beat Peirce.” Dudley shoved Harry off the bed in response. Dudley selected his character and waiting for Harry.
A loud clatter rang through the house, followed by shouts and yelling. The cousins looked at each other. Vernon and Petunia never yelled at each other. They yelled at Harry, yes, all the time. It was an Olympic sport in the Dursley house, but never had they fought with each other. Dudley launched himself to the door. Harry followed but only after he switched the controllers.
Harry reached the top of the staircase. Dudley had stopped half way down, his fat hands griped the banister, his knuckles white. Harry could see his Aunt Petunia, standing pale faced on the ground level. Both stared at a danger out of Harry’s view. Vernon erupted in screams of pain. Dudley jumped at the sudden sound.
Petunia’s frantic eyes darted up the stairs and met Harry’s. Harry’s heart raced as she gave a sharp shake of her head, warning him, willing him not to move. Vernon’s cries of pain stopped as abruptly as they started, replaced by labored gasps.
“I will ask again,” said a stern voice, as footsteps drew closer to Petunia. “Where is he?”
Petunia stood her ground as Dudley started shaking.
“Is this one yours?” asked the voice, Dudley retracted back to the wall behind him the same moment Petunia stepped forward.
“Not Dudley, please don’t,” Petunia begged, tears building in her eyes. She raised her arms to block the danger from reaching her son.
Not Harry, please no-
Harry’s gut tightened and a painful twinge erupted in his forehead. Was this a sort of déjà vu or a memory of a dream? But what dream? Why did this seam familiar?
“Tell me where the boy is!” shouted the intruder. Petunia remained silent.
Harry racked his brain. What happened next? What was the next part? His heart pounded in his chest. Something bad was about to happen. But what?
Harry watched as if in slow motion as a beam of light shot toward Dudley.
“No!” Petunia screamed and held up her hand. The moment her outstretched hand touched it, she holed in pain, crumpling to her knees. The intruder chuckled as Petunia looked terrified at her hand, now burned and blistered.
“You really are Lily’s sister,” he said before shouting something neither boy understood. Green light filled the house for an instant and Petunia fell unmoving to the ground.
“Mum?” whispered Dudley, breaking his silence and leaning forward towards his fallen mother. He snapped back towards the wall as a kettle collided with the front door.
“What did you do to my wife?!” bellowed Vernon. A frying pan bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor, missing the intruder by inches. The intruder charged after Vernon. A flurry of noise erupted from the kitchen. Pots and pans smashed against each other and glass shattered.
“Dudley! Run! I’ll hold him off!” shouted Vernon, as he threw a toaster about the house.
Dudley remained frozen on the stairs but Harry snapped to action. He darted down the stairs, roughly grabbed Dudley’s arm and rushed toward the front door. Harry had to shove Dudley out of the house as he was fixated on the sight his still mother. The boys looked back for an instant to see another blast of green light flood the kitchen. Vernon fell to the floor, a clean kitchen knife falling from his hand.
Harry slammed the door and grabbed Dudley’s hand again, pulling him forward.
“Come on, Dudley! We need to run!” Harry shouted, trying to get Dudley to move faster. Or any speed faster than their current one.
“But where are we going?” whined Dudley. “We need to call the police. We need to help Mum and Dad.”
Harry hadn’t thought of where they were going, just that they needed to get out of the house. They passed the corner of Privet Drive and turned down Rosemary Avenue. The first street light of the evening flickered on.
“Ms. Figg,” said Harry, thinking of the first person that came to mind. “She’ll know what to do. She can call for help.”
Harry thought hard about Ms. Figg, trying to force out what had just happened or who might be behind them. Harry was not sure how they arrived at Ms. Figg’s house so quickly, but it felt like it only took two steps for them to appear at her front door…. from five blocks away.
Harry wasted no time and pounded on the door. Only the meow of her cats answered. Harry knocked again. Dudley stared down the street they just crossed, waiting for the man to come around the corner.
“You’re doing it wrong. Move,” said Dudley, shoving Harry out of the way. His massive fists came down on the door, one after another, over and over again until Ms. Figg faint voice told them to hold their horses. It took an eternity for Ms. Figg to unlock her dead bolt, slide off the chain, and turn the nob. The smell of cats and stale fruit cake wafted out of the house.
“Harry, what a pleasant – wait, what’s wrong?” asked Ms. Figg, quickly glancing from one terrified face to another.
“There’s a man in our house,” said Harry, his tongue getting tied as he tried to explain as fast as possible. “He hurt Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and I think he’s following us. Please, you have to call the police.” Ms. Figg glanced down the darkening street before ushering them inside quickly.
“Tell me from the beginning, what happened?” Ms. Figg instructed, locking the doors once again.
“A man came into the house,” said Harry. “I didn’t see him, but Dudley did.”
Ms. Figg turned towards the pale, shaking Dudley. “Well boy, what did you see?” Dudley stared off into space, opening his mouth without any sound and then closing it again.
“Useless,” mumbled Ms. Figg. “What else, Harry? Did he have a gun? Did he say anything out of the ordinary?”
Harry thought back on the moment. The green lights. Aunt Petunia’s hand burning when she touched it. Would Ms. Figg even believe him? Uncle Vernon always told Harry that no one like a child with an imagination. But what other choice did he have?
“I didn’t see what kind of weapon he had,” Harry said slowly, picking his words carefully. “But it made different colored light. It responded to a vocal command, like in one of Dudley’s video games. He told it what to do and it did it.” Harry waited for a condescending look that never came. Instead, Ms. Figg grabbed both Harry and Dudley’s hands and led them into the dining room.
“Do either of you still believe in Santa Clause?” she asked, as she dropped Harry’s hand to open a silver box from the fireplace mantle. She had not released Dudley.
“No,” scoffed Dudley, finally out of his daze. “That stuff is for babies.”
“Shame. I was going to show you how he got around,” said Ms. Figg. She pulled a handful of glittering dust from the box and threw it into the fireplace. The empty fireplace roared to life with green flames. Dudley and Harry jumped back, but Ms. Figg grasped Harry’s hand again and dragged them into the fireplace.
This was a bad idea, thought Harry. A very, very bad idea.
Ms. Figg with unknown strength finally dragged the screaming Dudley into the flames. She shouted, “McGonagall Cottage” and the world whipped out of view.
Dudley quickly changed his mind about being free and clutched Ms. Figg for dear life. He planted a terrified face into her floral skirt, pleading for it to stop.
Harry didn’t have enough eyes. He saw glimpses of other houses from the inside of their fire place. He ignored the nausea that grew in his stomach the faster they darted past the still frames of other peoples’ lives.
They abruptly skidded to a stop. Harry’s knees buckled under him and Dudley tumbled out onto the hearth. Flat on his back, Dudley stayed there dazed. He was only able to mutter, “We moved.”
“Well spotted,” said Ms. Figg, rolling her eyes and stepping over Dudley. “Minerva!” she shouted and walked out of the room.
Harry quickly rushed out of the fire place, unsure if it would light up again and take him someplace new. Once his knees stopped shaking, he saw that they were in a library. Dark wood paneling matched the ornate ceiling and floor. Books lined the walls floor to ceiling. A writing desk sat facing a large window overlooking a small-town nestled among the rolling hills.
We aren’t in Little Winching anymore, thought Harry.
Harry looked over the titles of the books but none of them he had heard of before. Betty’s Bubbling Brew And You Can Too by Betty Irontin, Transfigure Your Life with Three Easy Spells by Spellmen Sparks, Animagi, Is It Right For You? By Boxer Browning. Harry pull a book called Twenty Charms They Don’t Teach You At School by Martin Mamelukes when the door of the library burst open with a loud bang.
Dudley screamed, sitting up and pulling his legs to his chest. Harry dropped the book and stood up straight, trying not to look guilty. Ms. Figg entered with another woman, much taller and older than Ms. Figg. Her piercing eyes took in the scene of a panicked Dudley and a terrified Harry. Harry noticed her gaze resting on him longer than Dudley but she broke her stare.
“I know your wards are stronger than mine,” said Ms. Figg behind the woman. “I didn’t know where else to take them. I would take them to Dumbledore directly but my fireplace isn’t connected.”
“You did well, Arabella,” said the woman in a low voice, patting Ms. Figg softly on the shoulder. “I will alert Dumbledore and the others.” With a swish of her emerald cloak, the woman left the room.
“Ms. Figg,” said Harry, cautiously moving forward. “Who was that?”
Ms. Figg stepped forward gesturing the two boys to her side. “That was Minerva McGonagall. She is a dear friend of mine and will be able to protect you.”
“But what about the police?” snapped Dudley. “How will they catch the burglar? We have to go back!”
“Dudley, I know you won’t understand, but the police can’t help us. The man who attacked your family will continue to come after you and will not stop until you are found,” said Ms. Figg her deep brown eyes pleaded with him to grasp the concept. “For tonight, this is the safest place for you.”
Dudley’s cheeks puffed up and Harry knew he was in for a tantrum. “But I want to see my Mum and Dad.” He wailed as big crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks. Ms. Figg was at a loss for words.
Harry though back on the green blasts, and his scar prickled again. Unthinking he rubbed it, trying to make the pricking go away. Ms. Figgs eyes grew and Harry immediately stopped, stuffing his hands quickly in his pockets. Had he done something wrong?
The door to the library opened yet again and McGonagall walked up to them.
“I am so sorry, I failed to introduce myself. I am Professor McGonagall.” She reached out her hand to shake them in turn.
“Nice you meet you,” said Harry meekly. “I’m Harry Potter.”
“Dudley Dursley,” muttered Dudley, his eyes on the floor.
“I know you two are probably confused and scared but please know you are safe here,” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes jumping from one boy to the next. Dudley avoided her gaze but Harry nodded when she looked at him. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen. I’m sure I have some ice cream. You may have as much as you like.” She took their hands and led them through the house.
The library was just one of several large rooms that Harry could see from the hallway. Some of the picture frames lining the hallway were blank, as if the single toned, matted background was a form of modern art.
McGonagall finally pushed open a door to the kitchen. She took out two bowls, two spoons and a giant tub of ice cream, leaving them on the counter. She told them to help themselves as she excused herself to talk to Ms. Figg again.
“I don’t like her,” said Dudley, once she had left the room. Dudley sat on one of the bar stools next to the counter and Harry took the one next to him.
“Yet, you’re more than happy to eat her ice cream,” said Harry.
“It would be bad manners to turn down her offer,” snapped Dudley, helping himself to another large scoop. “What would Mum and Dad say if this McGeorge lady tells them we had bad manners?”
Harry didn’t touch the tub when Dudley was done. Something was wrong. And the adults weren’t telling them about it.
How had Harry known about the light? Why had he seen it before? He rubbed his scar, which was still stinging. He had seen the green light before, he remembered it from somewhere. But who was the woman’s voice he heard? His mom?
That made no scene, he told himself. His parents died in a car crash. How could she plead with anyone if it was in a car crash?
But how did he know she was pleading with someone?
He knew he saw the flash of green light over and over again. With Aunt Petunia. And Uncle Vernon. And his parents.
His stomach tightened with the realization. The green light was there all three times. He wasn’t sure how he knew but he did, that his aunt and uncle were dead.
And Dudley didn’t.
“Dudley,” Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think we will be going home.”
“Whatcha mean?” asked Dudley, his cheeks full of ice cream.
“I – I don’t think Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon will be ok,” said Harry starring into his bowl, building up the courage to say what he thought. “I think that man killed them.”
Harry flew off the stool and clattered to the ground. Harry’s jaw throbbed where Dudley had hit him. Dudley remained in his spot, his fist clenched.
“You take that back!” Dudley snapped. “You take back what you said about my parents!”
Harry lay on the floor silently pleading for Dudley to understand. “Dudley, I – I think they’re dead.”
Dudley launched himself at Harry before he could scramble for cover. Dudley landed hard on Harry’s chest. Harry’s head bounced off the tile floor.
“You take it back!” roared Dudley. “You liar! Just because you don’t have parents doesn’t me I don’t either!” Dudley punched and kicked every inch of Harry he could reach. Harry tried to push Dudley off but he was too big. His glasses flew off his face in two different directions as the tape was no longer enough to keep them together through the abuse.
The punches slowed down and Dudley’s great heaving gasps turned to sobs. For a few moments there was stillness before Dudley pushed himself off Harry. Dudley, heartbroken and exhausted, sat on the floor curled his knees to his chin and buried his face. Harry waited a moment before cautiously sitting up. They sat silently next to each other. The ice cream sat melting and forgotten on the counter.
It was completely dark outside when McGonagall came back in. The boys looked up to her with swollen expressions. She knelt on the ground in front of them. Her face was composed and emotionless.
“Harry, Dudley, I know a lot has happened today, and I will try and explain it the best I can,” said McGonagall. “We don’t know for sure who attacked your family, but we have the Ministry and several talented individuals looking for him. Ms. Figg has gone into hiding. If the attacker knew that she helped you escape, she could be in danger too. Tomorrow, I will take you to the lead investigator who will take your statements about the attack. Hopefully they can find the man who did this.”
“My mum and dad,” Dudley chocked, with swollen eyes. “Are they dead?”
McGonagall’s eyes drained of resolve and replaced with pity. “I’m sorry but they were killed in the attack.” Dudley hid his face back into his knees. Harry watched Dudley shake with each sob. Harry’s eyes burned watching Dudley fall apart. While he didn’t like his family, he knew they didn’t deserve this.
Harry turned to McGonagall. “What’s going to happen to us?”
McGonagall sighed. “You two will stay with me for tonight, maybe tomorrow as well.”
“But after that?” asked Harry, “Dudley has another Aunt but she doesn’t like me. She won’t want me.” Suddenly, his heart raced in new found panic, eyes large with fear. “Am I going to an orphanage?”
“No,” said McGonagall firmly, reaching out and patted his knee. “I will adopt you myself before I see you sent to some muggle orphanage.”
Harry had no idea what a muggle was, but he assumed it was one of those words that Uncle Vernon used about him, just not in front of him. But more importantly, this woman, who he had never met and knew nothing about, was risking herself to keep them safe. More importantly, she would continue to do so he wouldn’t be abandon. Harry felt some of the weight of fear and grief ease.
Nobody spoke to Dudley.