Chapter Text
"What have you done to my son?" Vernon said with a menacing growl.
"Nothing." said Harry, knowing perfectly well Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe him.
It was quite an odd sight for the kitchen of Number 4 Privet Drive. All of the Dursley family plus Harry Potter were gathered in the kitchen in heated conversation. It was likely the longest Harry had conversed with the whole Dursley family since he started at Hogwarts, or since he was born, Harry thought. Harry's feet were planted firmly on the floor, his arms crossed across his chest, if only to stop the wavering shake in his hands. After all he had just took on two dementors with nothing but his stumbling cousin to help him. This however wasn't what had truly disturbed Harry. His eyes glanced to the open letter sitting, amongst several others, on the table, his name inlaid in emerald script on the torn envelope. In the very same precious ink that had brought an escape to his torment with his uncles family was the notice that he would be "…hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Harry had to remind himself to keep breathing. He clenched his hands tight, the pain from his fingernails seemed to give him the grasp on reality he needed to look up off the ground. His bull faced uncle stood in front of him, seething.
"Answer me boy!" Vernon screeched, "What did you do to Dudley?"
"I didn't do anything I swear!" Harry repeated, "It wasn't me it was the dementors!"
"I don't want to hear about any dementoids boy. My SON is in complete shambles, it must be because of your kind. He said so himself!" Vernon retorted.
His cousin, who Harry believed could barely form sentences on good days, was currently spilling his guts out into an old popcorn bucket. Dudley was certainly not Harrys go-to source for information, and Dudley's paleness was giving Nearly-Headless-Nick a run for his money. On second thought Dudley's complection was much more similar to the Fat Friar, Harry recalled, just without the friars usual jolly demeanor.
"If it weren't for me Dudley would be lying soulless in an alley!" Harry balled up his fists, "I literally got him out of there and you are blaming me for it?"
"He said you pointed your…your you-know-what at him!" Snarled Vernon.
Harry nearly rolled his eyes at Vernons insistence to avoid discussing magic even when it was the topic of conversation.
"We were in danger!," Harry scoffed, "The dementors could have killed him! Would you rather he be dead?" Well worse than dead, Harry thought, but he figured Uncle Vernon would get the point.
"I don't want to hear about any dementoids boy! You clearly have done something to him!"
"The dementors were there! I had to perform the Patronus Charm in order to get them off of Dudley! That's the only magic I did I swe-"
The loud smack of Vernons hand against Harry's cheek interrupted his defense. Harrys stable composure crumbled as he stumbled back at the force of the blow. The wooden chair behind Harry was the only thing to break his fall. Harry looked up at Vernon. Any words he had been about to speak were slapped out of him. The pain had not fully registered as Harry was so shocked at being hit. Ever since Harry started learning magic the Dursleys had largely backed off of him, even Dudley who's favorite hobby was Harry-hunting. They rarely hit him, well like this, he thought. Harry heard a faint gasp which could have only belonged to his horse-faced Aunt.
Aunt Petunia, who had been silent up to this point, stepped forward with a hand over her mouth. Her head swiveled as if scanning the room for a wayward neighbor who could have overheard. Finally she dropped the hand from her lips and said almost silently,
"Vernon… he isn't lying… about the d-dementors anyway. They guard the wizard prison Azkaban."
Two seconds of ringing silence followed Aunt Petunia's words. She clasped a hand over her mouth, looking as though she had said a terrible curse word.
"How'd you know that?" Vernon asked her, astonished.
"I heard - that horrid boy- tell her - many years ago." said Petunia, jerkily.
Harry was stunned. Except for one outburst years ago, in which Aunt Petunia had only screamed that Lily Potter was a freak, she never spoke about her sister.
Uncle Vernon scrunched his face in disgust. Aunt Petunia looked as if she owed him an appalling apology for this knowledge.
"Why are these dementeds in Little Whinging anyways?" Vernon snarled, looking back at Harry.
"I don't know, honest!" Harry replied, "It must be him."
Met with confusion from his relatives he continued, "Lord Voldemort that is."
Harry looked at Petunia and Vernon Dursley, people who flinched at the mention of witches on Halloween, and saw their faces completely unfazed at the name of the most powerful dark wizard on earth.
"Isn't that the guy who…" Vernons voice trailed off.
"Who killed my parents." Harry said sollumly.
"Well, " Continued Uncle Vernon, with no gentleness that would usually accompany the discussion of the murder of ones parents, "If he's following you here, then you need to leave." He said matter-of-factly.
"What?" There was alarm in Harry's voice. "But I have to stay inside!" From the table he snatched one of the many letters sent to him in the past half hour. This one from Arthur Weasley, telling Harry not to surrender his wand, that help was coming, and to stay inside the house at all costs. He held it up to Uncle Vernon who quickly waved it away.
"You were so eager to leave just a moment ago! Out with you! We never should've taken you in in the first place. You have caused us far too much trouble over the years!"
Harry's chest tightened. He tried to speak but no words escaped his lips.
"Are you deaf boy?" Vernon howled, "I said OUT!"
Vernon lunged at Harry. Harry's hands shot to cover his head. Every muscle in him braced for impact. Vernons claws grasped onto Harry's shirt. Harry found himself upright and out of his chair in seconds. He reached for his wand. Vernon clutched his wrist as his face paled from its previously plum color.
White faced, Vernon opened his mouth once more, "DON'T YOU DARE USE THAT IN MY HOUSE!"
"Uncle Vernon you can't send me out there! I could die!" Harry cried, his panic creeping into his throat.
Vernons face contorted. His eyebrows came together and his nostrils flared. Harry felt little shots of pain from Vernons fingernails digging into his wrist. Harry looked up at his Uncle, he found a conflicted gaze staring back at him. Uncle Vernons face remained twisted, as if contemplating his next move.
Having made up his mind, Vernon threw Harry to the ground.
Harry's arm made impact with the floor and bowed out in a funny direction. He had never seen his elbow bend that away, or anyone else's for that matter.
Bang! Pain filled his head as it met the tile. Yep- that was definitely going to leave a bump, but whats one more to his collection? It surely wouldn't matter if he was sent out on the streets to fend off dementors all night. Harry drew in a rapid breath as he probed his right arm. It hurt. It felt as if a freshly sharpened knife was weaving into his tendons. Yeah, not good.
A sharp knock on the front door interrupted Harry's thoughts. Vernon quickly shoved past Harrys sprawled body on the floor as he rushed to the door. Petunia ushered Dudley into the next room so he was out of sight. Relief flooded Harry's thoughts. Someone was coming to help him! Finally! Harry had just set himself up on his good arm as the door opened.
Taking in the rigid black robes, beady black eyes, and greasy black hair of the man that was on his doorstep, Harry was convinced he had hit his head a bit too hard in his fall.
It was none other than Severus Snape.