Chapter Text
Harry missed Hogwarts. Being back with the Dursleys was not a particularly pleasant experience. They were angry with Harry - angry that Dumbledore had written to them and warned them to actually use Harry's money for his school supplies. It had surprised Harry a tiny bit when he had heard that. However, the Dursleys had not been very impressed that Harry had gone to Dumbledore (which was not true - he had never said anything to Dumbledore about it... of course the Dursleys had not listened to him), so they had decided that Harry would now have to help out more around the house to earn his keep. To make matters worse, Uncle Vernon had taken his trunk and locked it in the cupboard together with Dudley's school things as soon as he had walked through the door.
Harry therefore had only one book with him, which he hid under the loose floorboards in his room. It was G.G.'s little spell book, which he had actually wanted to hide in his suitcase. In the end, he hadn't got around to it because James, Hermione and Neville had wandered into the compartment and he still had it hidden under his cloak in his waistband.
Harry had thought more than once in the last week about breaking into the cupboard at night and retrieving his things, but he had decided against it. Even if he was supposed to be doing homework over the summer, even if he would forget a lot of things he had already learned... For the moment, the Dursleys were still tolerable despite the extra housework and he didn't want to risk changing that. He got to eat three times a day and when he had done his chores around the house, they usually left him alone. It was probably partly due to the fact that Dudley had told them he was a murderer. They even wanted him to leave Privet Drive and go to the nearby park.
However, the main reason for Harry not being allowed to show his face in the house was not the half-truth that Dudley had told them. The reason was the tutor the Dursleys had arranged for Dudley.
His aunt and uncle, much to Harry's amazement, had not been angry that Harry's grades were many times better than Dudley's. It was their proof that Dudley was a good boy. It was their proof that Dudley wasn't quite as weird as Harry - at least that's what Petunia said.
Of course, if Vernon was to be believed, the poor grades had nothing to do with the fact that Dudley had never once opened a book unless it was absolutely necessary or had only managed to pass the exams because McGonagall had forced him to make up every single homework assignment in her office to make sure he had worked it out himself. It was all because the teachers were freaks too - at least in Vernons opinion. Harry hadn't said anything about it. Especially not when Dudley had learned that he would have a tutor all summer to catch up on the comprehensive school material with him - and not just this summer, but every summer until he was ready to take his GCSEs. Harry, on the other hand, was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as the tutor didn't see him. It didn't bother Harry that he wasn't taking GCSEs. He planned to disappear completely into the wizarding world the moment he turned seventeen - the date of wizarding majority. He had even made a calendar on which he crossed off the days. One page for each summer until he was seventeen, half a page for the last year. It made him feel like he could escape the Dursleys one day.
So he would have been quite content with his life, if he had heard anything from his friends. But he did not give up hope that they would still write to him. The holidays had only just begun.
However, fate seemed to hate him. After three weeks, Ron Weasley suddenly appeared at the door on Friday evening - complete with owl and overnight clothes. He could hardly believe that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had allowed a wizard to come to their house... but it was probably different if this wizard was a friend of their dear Duddy-kins.
Dudley showed Weasley his video games, his room and joked with him. Harry hated the way Weasley had stared at him when Petunia had sent him out into the garden to do some weeding and he hadn't been allowed back into the house until the end of Saturday, tired and dirty.
"Splendid," Harry thought bitterly, "when I get back to Hogwarts everyone will be talking about how the great Harry Potter is digging in the dirt. Malfoy will never stop teasing me about it."
His mood didn't improve as still none of his friends had written him a single word. On Sunday - it was the Sunday before his birthday - Harry ran to the park in the morning. He had put breakfast on the table and hoped that the Dursleys would not be too angry when he returned. It was better than Weasley seeing any more of how his relatives treated him. Weasley would be picked up again the next evening anyway.
Harry sat under the tree he had always sat under since summer had started and had taken out the little spell book. No one was paying attention to a little boy who was in the park during the summer - there were dozens of children and teenagers there.
Harry wasn't sure what to make of the little book. It had been a gift from Voldemort before Harry had told him he wanted nothing to do with him. But somehow it had also been a gift from Professor Quirrell, which was why he hadn't wanted to give it away.
The spells in it had clearly been written by someone who wanted nothing to do with the official ways of the Ministry. Oh, it wasn't dark magic - at least not all of it, and Harry skimmed over those that were, wishing not to become more like Voldemort - but experimentation with spells was dangerous and could only be done under registration with the Ministry of Magic. However, these experiments had certainly never been tested, or the spells would have been adopted for schoolwork. The author had found a way to do many of the simple spells learned in the first or second year without a wand. Wandless levitation spells, unlocking and locking spells, a summoning spell and even a small flame spell where you could make a blue flame appear in your hand if you trusted the book, not unlike the Incendio fire spell. Were that broad knowledge, well known in the Ministry, surely they wouldn't let them learn how to do it with a wand. Surely it was much more practical to do it without! He would have liked to try it too - but unfortunately they weren't allowed to do magic outside of school and he didn't want to risk being expelled from Hogwarts.
He was engrossed in mimicking the hand movements for a wandless levitating spell as described in the book when he was called out of his thoughts by a voice.
"Hey, isn't that Potter over there?!" the person called out. Harry looked up - and put the booklet in his pocket when he saw who was standing there. It was Dudley and his gang, including Ron Weasley. The one who had spoken was Malcolm.
"Been pretty boring without you, Big D," Gordon said with a nasty grin. Harry tried to put on a blank face and not laugh out loud when he heard the name Big D - that was new, anyway. Dennis and Piers cracked their fists. Harry jumped up and pressed himself against the tree. It had been a long time since they had surrounded him. If he hadn't been so engrossed in the spell practice, it would never have happened.
"We should play another round of Harry Hunting," Dudley said with a huge grin. Weasley looked back and forth between Dudley and his friends in confusion.
"What do you mean by Harry-Hunting?" he asked uncertainly. The friends laughed as Harry looked around, trying to think of a way out.
"Harry Hunting is a game Dudley came up with in primary school. Harry runs away and we chase him..." began Malcolm, then his grin widened even more. "...And when we get him, we'll beat on him until he gives up."
Harry looked challengingly at Weasley and the others. There was no way out, but at least he wouldn't give Weasley the satisfaction of telling all of Hogwarts how he had begged a gang of muggles not to hurt him. Weasley grimaced.
"Dudley... do you really think..." began Weasley, but Piers had already stepped aside.
"Run. Run or we'll beat you up right here," Dudley hissed. Harry thought for a split second and ran. He was fast - he might be able to outrun them. But he was not so lucky. In his haste to get away from the others, he missed a tree root and stumbled. He tried to scramble back up, but felt an elbow hit him in the back. Harry curled up, trying to protect himself from the blows, praying it would be over soon. The blows were harder than they had been in their primary school days. Malcolm in particular seemed to have become stronger as he gave him a kick that almost took his breath away. Suddenly he felt someone yank Dudley off him.
"Stop... stop it! Are you out of your freaking minds?!" someone shouted. Harry barely dared to look up, but was more than surprised to see that it was Weasley holding Dudley back.
"What are you doing, Ron? We're just having a bit of fun," Dudley complained. "You know he doesn't deserve any better."
Dudley's muggle friends laughed. Harry tried to sit up and groaned in pain. They had hit his ribs harder than he had thought.
"This is wrong!" said Weasley, though his voice sounded uncertain. "I... I'm not a bully and I won't let you do this!"
"We're not bullies!" complained Malcolm. "This is just a bit of fun. Dudley - you didn't say you were bringing a buzzkill!"
"It's not fun when it's five against one," Weasley said stubbornly. Harry didn't wait to hear the others' response, but ran off and hid for the rest of the day. When he got back home, Weasley had disappeared.
***
Ron hadn't said a word when his father had picked him up. He had been glad to borrow Errol while he was with the Dursleys. As soon as they had returned from the park, he had written to his parents. He had been so excited to hang out with Dudley outside of school and see all the Muggle things Dudley had been talking about all year. But when he had seen what Dudley had done, he hadn't been able to stand the sight of his friend. It was one thing to play pranks, but quite another for five of them to punch someone who couldn't fight back.
Now he was back in the Burrow, sitting down to dinner and couldn't get a bite down.
"Ron, aren't you at least going to eat a piece of potato?" his mother asked. Ron shook his head. His mother then put her hand on his forehead.
"Hmmm, you don't have a fever," she said thoughtfully. "Did something happen when you were with your friend?"
Ron wasn't sure what to say. Dudley was his friend. But what he had done in that park was just wrong. He wondered if perhaps he had misjudged Dudley. At first he had disliked Dudley because he had spoken badly of Potter. Everyone knew Harry Potter - how could it be that his cousin spoke so badly of him? But then Dudley started telling stories. About how he had once conjured him up onto a roof and left him there, how he had set a snake on him and how he had constantly tried to tell stories to get Dudley into trouble.
And Ron had taken pity on Dudley. He had six brothers and often felt overlooked - he couldn't imagine how much you had to be in the shadows if you grew up with Harry Potter.
They had become real friends when Dudley had promised to support Ron after Malfoy had challenged him following the flying lesson incident. And the more he had listened to Dudley, the more certain he had become that Potter really was a mean person. Besides, there was the matter of him being a Slytherin. Not all Slytherins were dark wizards, he knew that, but most dark wizards came from Slytherin.
Then Christmas had come and Dudley had gone home while Harry had stayed in the castle. Potter hadn't even spoken to them yet, even though there were barely more than a dozen students in the castle. It was then that Ron had really started to believe that Potter was as arrogant as Dudley always claimed.
After Dudley and Potter had fought, he had been furious with Potter. He had blamed him, Longbottom and Granger for the fact that all of Gryffindor had hated them. After the thing in the forest, he had been sure that Potter and that centaur were mad... He who must not be named, could not be back... it was too horrible to imagine. Ron didn't remember what it had been like during the last war. But he saw his mother sometimes looking at the old pictures of Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon. He sometimes saw her tears when Fred and George did something that remembered her of them.
He saw his father get angry when it came to people like Lucius Malfoy, who went without punishment after You-Know-Who had fallen. His parents didn't talk about it in Percy's, Fred's, George's, Ron's or Ginny's presence. They said they were too young. But Bill and Charlie had sat down with them once or twice when they had had questions. That was why Ron had been sure Potter was lying. Everyone thought that he who must not be named was dead.
Then at the end of school there had been ugly rumours about Potter. He had killed Quirrell. When he thought about it more carefully, however, those had not been the rumours that had been there at the beginning. Dudley had turned those rumours around. And after Dudley had been telling everyone all year what a terrible person Potter was, many had believed those rumours. It wasn't as if there had been anyone around to say otherwise. Potter and Black were in the hospital wing. Granger and Longbottom had not left their side.
He swallowed as he remembered what the first story had been. Longbottom had told Dean and Seamus, who had told Parvati, and after that the story had taken on a life of its own. Quirrell had been acting on behalf of You-Know-Who and Potter had stopped him again. Was that possible?
"Mum... do you think, well... I don't know... that You-Know-Who is still out there?" asked Ron finally. All the members of the Weasley family stared at him in disbelief.
"Ron... how did you come up with that idea?" asked Molly. Ron stared at his plate, unable to say anything. It was Fred and George who answered.
"They say Harry Potter fought one of his followers," said Fred.
"At the end of term. Was in the hospital wing for three days because of it," George said.
Molly ran her hand through Ron's hair and hugged him to her. "Oh Ronnie sweetheart, you don't have to be scared. He's been gone for eleven years, he's not going to suddenly come back."
"Gone? Not dead?" asked Ron uncertainly.
"Well, Dumbledore never believed he was really dead... and Dumbledore has a habit of being right," his father said. Everyone at the table was now white as a sheet, at which point his father cleared his throat. "But that doesn't mean he'll be back. Besides, you're at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was the only man You-Know-Who ever feared. You're perfectly safe there."
Ron nodded. Yes, Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time. He was safe at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, that did nothing to lessen his bad feeling. If his parents believed he could come back, then there might be something to the story....
"Is that all you were worried about?" his mother asked, pushing the plate of his lunch towards him. Ron swallowed. He thought of what he had seen at the Dursleys'. How Potter had gotten up at the crack of dawn to pull weeds in the garden and then had been told off by his aunt that he had to make breakfast. Dudley hadn't had to do squat and when Potter had only been allowed to take one slice of toast back to his room, Dudley had told him that he didn't deserve any better.
Then the whole incident in the park had happened. Ron had met Dudley's friends and found them more than a little unlikeable. They had reminded him of Malfoy and his gang. Even more so when Dudley and his friends had surrounded Potter and started punching him until he was just cowering on the ground protecting his stomach and ribs. Back at the house he had had a terrible argument with Dudley. Dudley had said again that Potter had it coming. That he was going to ruin everything. That he only had to go to Hogwarts because Potter had infected him with his weirdness. When Potter had come back, Ron hid for eavesdropping on the muggles. Mrs. Dursley had scolded Potter for getting his things dirty and didn't even asked why he had a black eye. He couldn't ignore it any longer. Potter wasn't the evil one in this story...he felt sick. That meant he had been supporting the bad guy all last year.
"Ron?" his mother asked. Only now did he realise that his mother was expecting an answer.
"Mum... I think there's something wrong with the Dursleys... I think we should write to Dumbledore," he finally said.
"Tell me what happened, sweetheart," she said. And he began to tell.