The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 1: The Boy With The Owl

Vernon Dursley, of four Privet Drive, was in an extremely foul mood that Tuesday morning.

"Petunia!" he roared to his wife, his large face turning beet red. "Hurry up! Let's get this bloody business out of the way!" He slammed the front door, heading for the car.

"Why do I have to go to the station?" whined Dudley Dursley, pulling on his mother's hand. He was extremely fat and his four chins quivered morosely.

"Because, Sweetums, Mrs. Polkiss is gone this week, and you can't stay here while Aeryn cleans the house." Petunia Dursley leaned over and kissed her son on the head. She didn't sound too pleased about the arrangements.

Neither did Dudley. He scrunched up his face as if he was about to cry. "I don't want to go!" he wailed. He slumped to the ground and pounded his heels against the kitchen floor. "I wanna stay here! I wanna stay here!"

Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat. Please God, no, she prayed frantically. Dudley had stayed at home last week when she had come in to clean, and the rotten tyke had tromped muck on the carpets, pulling things off the shelves. Mrs. Dursley had complained bitterly about Aeryn's poor work while her son chortled gleefully behind his fat hand.

"Dinky Duddledums, don't act like that, please!" cried Mrs. Dursley, swooping down on her son. Her arms barely fit around him, but she seemed to be doing her best. "We'll stop at the store on the way back from the station, and Mummy will buy you a present, wouldn't you like that, sweetums?"

He sure would, Aeryn thought sourly. Not as much as he'd like to stuff his face, though.

Dudley gave a large sniff. He looked up at his mother with a spiteful gleam in his eye. "And you won't get Harry anything?" he burbled.

"Shh!" Mrs. Dursley said frantically, shooting a wary glance at Aeryn as she cuddled her son. "No, Duddy-poo," she cooed. "We'll let you get whatever you want, but…er…he won't get anything."

Aeryn's ears pricked up immediately.

From outside, Mr. Dursley honked the horn. Aeryn never knew a car could sound so peeved. Snuffling miserably, but with a malicious grin on his fat face, Dudley toddled out the door.

"I'll be right there, honeybunch!" Mrs. Dursley called as her son slammed the door. She turned to Aeryn, all sweetness gone from her face. "I've left a list of extra things for you to finish while we're gone," she snapped. "We'll be back within two hours. Make sure everything is done by the time we're back."

Aeryn's jaw dropped open, but Mrs. Dursley had already whirled on her heel and was headed for the door. "Oh, Mrs. Dursley!" she called in her most pleasant voice, seconds before the woman walked out of the house. "Who's Harry?"

Mrs. Dursley stopped dead in her tracks. "No one," she said after a brief hesitation.

"No one?" Aeryn packed all the disbelief she could into her voice. Mrs. Dursley's shoulders hunched.

"He's Dudley's cousin, and no concern of yours!" She stalked out the door, slamming it so hard behind her that it rattled in its frame. After a moment, the car door closed and the Dursleys' car puttered out of the driveway.

***

Aeryn started on her chores immediately. It was so much easier to do them when Mrs. Dursley wasn't breathing down her neck, or Dudley wasn't underfoot, or Mr. Dursley was sitting in the chair she was supposed to vacuum and then yelled at her when she made him move.

Aeryn didn't hate many people, but she did hate the Dursleys. She was, however, the only person in Little Whinging that would clean their house, and from the state it was always in, the Dursleys couldn't afford not to have her. She came to their house twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, and they fortunately paid her well. Aeryn never lost a chance to remind them how valuable she was to them.

After putting the laundry in the washer (Dudley had spilled chocolate ice cream all down the front of his white sailor's suit again), Aeryn began to scrub the floor. Her shoulders began to ache after a while, but it was a good feeling. She wondered, as she pushed a handful of hair from her eyes, what this cousin Harry boy like. She had a sickening vision of a mirror image of Dudley, white-blond hair and fat face and all.

But the Dursleys didn't seem happy about Harry's visit. As she dumped the dirty water into the sink, the thought popped into Aeryn's head that anyone who the Dursleys didn't like couldn't be all that bad. After all, they didn't like her. It was nice to know that the feeling was mutual.

Aeryn would have finished cleaning if she hadn't found the gallon of melting vanilla ice cream in one of the cupboards. She was putting the final pots and pans away (now neatly scrubbed and de-stickied) when the Dursleys' car pulled up the driveway of 4 Privet Drive.

"Damn it," Aeryn swore. She rushed to the kitchen table and grabbed her purse, fully intending to get out of there before she could have a run-in with the Dursleys, but her purse flew into the air, spilling the contents all over the table. She swore again, and hurriedly crouched down to pick her things up.

The front door opened. "…those dirty, trashy things go right into the cupboard, d'you hear me?" yelled Mr. Dursley. He stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Aeryn on the floor, guiltily holding a handful of change and a roll of mints.

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?" he roared. The veins stood out in his neck.

"I was just leaving," muttered Aeryn, stuffing the change and mints into her purse. She stood up, quickly, and her eyes caught sight of a small figure standing behind Mr. Dursely.

He was a small, very thin boy, with thick black hair that stuck out at every angle all over his head and round glasses. Beneath his black bangs, Aeryn caught sight of a thin, zigzagging scar on his forehead. He was swimming in his clothes that could have easily been Dudley's cast-offs. Aeryn's eyes strayed to the large, obviously heavy trunk sitting on the floor next to him. A black piece of material peeked out from the lid. A broomstick was stuck through the handle of the trunk. In his right hand, the boy held a large cage. Inside was an owl. A snowy owl. The owl suddenly lifted its head and stared straight at Aeryn, its golden eyes wide.

Aeryn felt the color leach from her face.

"Hi," the boy said shyly.

"Go downstairs, Harry!" Mr. Dursley snapped to the boy, but his face was a bit frightened. "Put your things away!"

Harry grinned once more at Aeryn, then hurried off down the stairs to the basement.

"So that's Harry," Aeryn said softly. She looked over at Mr. Dursley. "Dudley's cousin?"

Mr. Dursley looked very upset. "Er…Miss Blake…Aeryn…I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention Harry to anyone. Quite a disturbed young boy, you see. Sad story. Wouldn't like word to get out." He shook his head in a semblance of sadness.

"Why does he have an owl?" Aeryn asked.

Mr. Dursley coughed quite suddenly. "I…er…" He shoved a finger under his collar as if it had grown quite tight. "Now, Aeryn, how about a raise?"

"A raise?"

"Two more pounds an hour. Well, I see the house is done. Off with you now." He practically took Aeryn by the shoulders and shoved her out the door. "And remember…don't mention Harry to anyone, that's a good girl."

The door slammed in her face.

In a daze, Aeryn walked to her bicycle, parked along the white picket fence. Dudley was getting out of the car, clutching a package in his hand and looking quite pleased with himself. Mrs. Dursley looked over at Aeryn and shrieked, "If the place isn't spotless this time, I'll deduct five pounds from your pay on Friday!"

Aeryn grabbed her bike and pedaled away, her knuckles white against the grips as she fought to keep her hands from trembling.