Love On Risky Ground

Love On Risky Ground

Chapter 1

Holiday

Harry leaned somewhat uncomfortably against the doorframe of the Dursleys' living room. Silently, he folded his arms, a smile creeping onto his face as he watched his Uncle Vernon struggling to push his trunk into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry held back his laughter as his uncle's face gradually changed colour from that of an overripe tomato to a blackberry in his rising rage. Strands of grey hair, neatly parted on his way home from Kings Cross Station began to scatter all over his forehead.

Vernon banged his fist on the trunk. "Ruddy, bloody trunk," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Would you like me to help, sir?" Harry suggested, amusement tingeing his voice upon seeing sweat sliding down his uncle's purple face.

"No, no, you stay right where you are, thank you... AND IT IS NOT FUNNY!" he boomed, giving Harry a horrible, searing look. Vernon's voice carried throughout the house, startling Hedwig, who was beside Harry in her cage, and making her screech madly.

"Shut that bird up!" Vernon yelled in frustration, his neck shaking under the stress.

Harry knelt and quieted his snowy owl down. He slid his thin arm between the metal bars and began to stroke her soothingly.

In the meantime, Harry watched Vernon draw in a breath to calm himself, his weight pressed up against the trunk. He leaned back, but his hands remained gripping the corners of the trunk. With a puff, Vernon finally pushed it in with an almighty grunt and flashed a smile of accomplishment as he shut the door. He straightened up and placed the key in his pocket so there was no way that Harry could get to his things. He then slapped his hands together and tidied his clothes as if the neighbours were somehow watching them.

Wiping the sweat from his face, Vernon turned towards his nephew. "I hope that had nothing to do with your nonsense. I've never had your trunk take so much time getting into the cupboard," he sneered.

Harry unfolded his arms and let them fall limply to his sides, his smile suddenly gone. "If you had looked in the cupboard before you put my things in there, you would've noticed a whole stack of Dudley's junk."

Vernon closed and then opened his mouth, completely lost for words. His face began blotching up again in a grotesque pattern of purple and red spots. Harry bit his lip, getting ready for the insult that was sure to be hurled his way, though he could see that his uncle struggled hard to find the right words to say after his brief encounter at Kings Cross Station with Harry's kind. After all, Uncle Vernon didn't want 'those people' in his house again.

"Just--GO! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" his uncle finally roared.

Harry picked up his clothes, some textbooks and then Hedwig with a small jolt, and passed Vernon, climbing the stairs lightly as if there was no gravity within the house. He was quite glad to get out of his uncle's sight.

Upon stepping onto the landing, he heard his uncle again. "When your Aunt Petunia calls... go to her."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, his voice in a monotone.

Once he was in his room, he opened Hedwig's cage to let her out. Her wings unfolded with a welcoming stretch and she hopped onto Harry's bed. Hedwig hated being cooped up in a cage for so long, especially when the time came for her to board the Hogwarts Express. She hooted softly once Harry had given her food and water. She sipped it and ate graciously while he watched, waiting unhappily for his aunt's nauseating squeal, commanding him to do whatever she wanted.

Harry carefully returned his clothes into his drawers after wiping away the cobwebs and spiders which had nestled into their corners. While folding up a tattered jumper that had once belonged to Dudley, he glanced at the end of his bed, wishing that he had his trunk with him in his room, like he did a year ago.

Reluctantly, his aunt and uncle had allowed Harry to keep his wand with him, as long as it was put away where they couldn't see it. It was the one thing, which really mattered to him for the moment. As long as he had his wand he felt safe. He placed the wand under the floorboards and stood back, hoping he wouldn't have to use it during the summer.

Harry next retrieved a pair of stinking red socks filled with holes, picking them up as if they were some sort of a vile substance he did not wish to touch.

"Disgusting!" he grimaced, throwing them into a bin near the window. Though he stood only meters away, he could still smell the filthy socks. On second thought, he grabbed the bin and went into the backyard, tipping the socks into the bin outside.

"Harry!"

He spun around and saw his Aunt Petunia pruning a rose bush in her perfect garden. She turned her chin up as she surveyed her nephew with despising eyes. Thick, dirtied gloves covered her hands, and she held a pair of garden shears that were wrapped around a branch she was about to cut with surprising relish.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"Come here," she motioned curtly, pointing her bony finger towards the earth.

Harry dawdled over, absent-mindedly looking at the grass that he was deliberately treading on.

"Oh, hurry up, boy."

He quickened his pace, looking at the metal of the garden shears as the blades shone brightly, reflecting the late afternoon sun, and hoping that she wasn't about to cut his neck off with them. The garden shears looked sturdier than all of his aunt's bony body put together. Once Harry was close enough without intruding in her personal space, his aunt snipped the rose branch off. The next thing he heard was a soft swooshing sound as the branch fell, leaving behind a green wound on the violated plant, from which a dark liquid was seeping out like blood.

Without looking at him, Aunt Petunia dug her hand into her shirt pocket and retrieved a carefully folded note, thrusting it into Harry's hands. "Vernon and I will be going on a holiday. Those are the rules which you are to obey."

"What?" He asked incredulously.

"Don't you raise your voice to me," Petunia snapped, shaking the garden shears menacingly an inch away from Harry's face, as if she intended to poke his eyes out with their sharp points.

His heart almost danced with sudden joy, and yet a touch of foreboding troubled his mind.

"We will be going to see Marge... we feel the need to go to her rather than for her to visit us," she said with a reproving glare. "Especially after all that happened when she was here the last time."

Harry remembered the last time all too well because Aunt Marge had blown up like a balloon, due to the unfocused magic he had accidentally let out in anger. "Well, she got what she deserved!" Petunia slapped him across the side of his head for his rude comment. He massaged his temple.

"And you deserved that!" Petunia whispered angrily, hoping the neighbours didn't hear her nephew's rebellious words. She sighed heavily and continued, "Duddikins will not be coming with us. He wishes to stay at home. So whatever he says, you'll do. He'll be watching you. None of your nonsense or we will come straight home and Vernon will--" She couldn't bring herself to finish the threat for fear that Harry's kind might pay them a little visit.

Harry's heart almost broke loose from his chest cavity and caved into his stomach. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling less content by the minute. Harry would rather have all the Dursleys at home than just Dudley. He had a feeling Dudley was going to make life a living hell for him.

"Aunt Petunia... when will you be back?" Harry almost hoped they wouldn't be away for long.

"July ninth... you can go now," she said, waving her hand towards the house.

He sighed, but sat on a bench near the rose bush as his aunt returned to pruning it. He opened the note in his hands to see what rules had been listed for him.

Things YOU Are Not Allowed To Do.

Harry gulped, getting ready for the restrictions under Dudley's command.

*DO NOT OPEN THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS.

*Do not enter Dudley's room or the master bedroom.

*You are to give Dudley the remote control to the television at all times, and you are to do what Dudley says.

*Do not let any of your kind within the household, except if there are emergencies, which concern you.

*And at all times, DO NOT let Dudley set foot in the kitchen to eat something outside of mealtimes. He is still on his diet!

*And most important of all, you are not to leave the house. In either case, I know that your kind will be watching you, nonetheless. So keep out of danger!

"Is this why you wanted my trunk hidden away, in case Dudley's friends become curious while you're away?" Harry wildly guessed.

Petunia stared viciously at him.

"Dudley would never do something as stupid as letting his responsible friends into your room. But as long as Vernon and I are not here, your uncle thought it was best to do so. And make sure you do not carry your wand around. If we have a repeat incident like last year-- I don't know what we'll do with you."

"This should be an interesting experience," he muttered, crumbling the note into his pocket.

"Hmm... what did you say?" his aunt asked with raised eyebrows.

"Nothing, Aunt Petunia." Harry rolled his eyes, but then he looked around. "Where is Dudley, anyway?"

Petunia sighed. "You've been asking a lot of questions," she hissed. "You're getting too much freedom within this household, which you do not deserve even in the slightest," she continued, flicking her eyes over to Harry, inspecting him from head to toe as if he were a hideous object standing in front of her. "Dudley's gone to his friend's house. He'll be returning this evening... now get out of my sight."

He lazily picked himself up from his comfortable seat in the afternoon sun and headed indoors again. He decided to sit in the living room where he found Vernon seated crossed legged, his grey socks showing from beneath his trouser legs. His face was hidden behind an outstretched newspaper, but he sensed his nephew in the room.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow," he said without bothering to look at Harry's face. "So no funny business."

Harry leaned his head back in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you people ... students are not allowed to use magic outside of school." It took him a second to realise what he had said.

Vernon threw the paper to the ground, his face reddening again. "Didn't stop you last year from hurting my son, did it? And-don't-say-that-word!" he hissed angrily.

Harry darted out of the living room as his uncle struggled to get his massive weight out of the soft armchair.

"It was an accident... I didn't mean to say it."

"If only Petunia wasn't forced to keep you here--" Vernon started, rolling up his paper.

He tailed behind Harry, flinging the paper at him in order to give his nephew a whack on the head. Harry was too quick for him and he bolted into his bedroom, shutting the door with a loud crack. He could hear his uncle shouting downstairs and Petunia asking what had happened, but they didn't rush upstairs to punish him.

Harry relaxed and tossed himself onto his bed, his face nuzzling the sheets. He only lifted his head up when he couldn't breathe any more.

He turned over and rested, feeling the cool air circulate over his body. He fingered the groove of his lighting bolt scar, thinking about what had happened during the year. Harry had just completed his fifth year, and whatever little bit of happiness he had was slowly ebbing away with the realisation of another long Dursley summer holiday. Hagrid's death early on in the school year and facing Voldemort again had been far worse, and his nightmares had begun taking control of his life at night.

The friendly half giant had died on his mission to coax the giants against Voldemort, and his dying wish was for Madame Maxime to look after his half-brother Grawp, whom they had found on their journey. For many months Madame Maxime had tried to calm Grawp down in the Forbidden Forest, always protecting herself with magic because Grawp, confused and angry, just wanted to go back home to his mountains in Europe.

Harry and Hermione had seen Grawp and thought that he did not look anything like Hagrid, but Grawp had saved them from the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest when he had wandered off. Once Madame Maxime thought that she had gotten through to the wild giant, Dumbledore instructed her to take him to France with her, because the forest was not safe for him anymore.

Thinking about Hagrid and his family was too much to bear, he thought. He sighed as he rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut from the anguish. Harry didn't want to think about people dying or already dead, so he tried desperately to think of something else, just so he wouldn't drown in misery.

However, his mind travelled further, into the memory of when he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna Lovegood went to the Department of Mysteries, believing that Voldemort was torturing Sirius. Harry shivered at the thought of nearly losing his godfather. Bellatrix Lestrange had uttered a curse, which had almost killed him; and on top of the curse, Sirius had nearly fallen into the Veil of Death. Bellatrix, thinking she was victorious, kept screeching that she had killed her cousin. This had made Harry so angry that he had gone after her, only to face Voldemort instead.

Harry pushed away his disturbing thoughts and thought about the future that lay ahead of him. Dwelling in the past would only make him more depressed than ever.

He suddenly thought about his OWL results. He frowned, then sighed, hoping that his ambitions of becoming an Auror would be fulfilled. But then the prophecy ... Voldemort yelling the Unforgivable Killing Curse in front of his frightened eyes ... it scared Harry to think that he might never experience his ascent into adulthood, or have a chance to fall in love, or to have a family and a career - to live until he had a long beard just like Dumbledore's.

Harry shivered, rubbing his hands over his arms, suddenly feeling cold even though the inside of the Dursleys' house was quite warm.

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and releasing it. His ears became more sensitive to the sounds penetrating in from outside his open window. He heard the front door shut and his uncle talking hurriedly with his aunt.

"Petunia... I'm telling you, I'm worried about leaving the boys alone while we are away... I'm especially worried about him."

Harry knew his uncle was talking about him.

"Oh, Vernon, the responsibility will be good for Dudley. Yes, I'm worried as well, but it is an opportunity for Dudley to grow into a civilised, law-abiding person who will value his responsibilities. Can I at least dream that of Duddikins?"

Harry snorted as he listened attentively, doubting that Dudley could ever be civil and responsible.

"Oh, all right," Vernon replied reluctantly and ended the conversation. Harry heard him start the car's ignition to go to the supermarket.

"Take care, dear."

***

Harry walked down the stairs early the next morning, after an owl delivered his Daily Prophet. His hair was a bigger mess than it would have normally been, and in his exhaustion, he had forgotten where he had put his spectacles the night before, and now he couldn't find them. As a result, when he started to enter the kitchen, he misjudged the doorway and smashed his shoulder.

"Ouch," he muttered, rubbing his shoulder profusely.

"Get out of the way, boy."

Harry put his back against the wall to let his uncle rush past, toast dangling in one hand and a packed suitcase in the other. That was all he could manage to see through squinted eyes.

He turned to enter the kitchen and even with his poor eyesight he managed to see Dudley sneaking a peek inside the fridge.

"Aunt Petunia!" he called, with a sense of accomplishment in his duty to not let Dudley fork out any food outside of mealtimes. "Your son is pigging out of the fridge," he added bravely.

"Dudley!" Aunt Petunia screeched from somewhere in the house.

Harry smiled, glad that he had caught Dudley in the act. He wished on the spot that he had found his glasses; he would've liked to see the look on his cousin's face.

"Dudley... you're still on a diet! Why can't you listen to your Mummy and do what she insists is best for you?" Aunt Petunia strode into the kitchen, and snatched whatever food lay within Dudley's hungry grasp.

"But I'm healthier now," Dudley said with wide eyes.

"You could relapse and your wrestling championship would go out the window," Harry said, trying not to laugh.

"

That's right," Petunia said without looking at him. "Now out of the kitchen."

Dudley pouted and walked out, cursing under his breath. Harry could sense that his cousin was conjuring up a plan within his head, even though he couldn't fully make out the expression on his face.

When it was ten o'clock and the sun had risen just enough for the temperature to make a sharp climb, Harry's aunt and uncle finally got everything packed into their car. Aunt Petunia turned around and cried unnecessarily in Dudley's arms.

"Now," his mother sniffled, plastering his blonde hair down. "You be a good boy and remember what we told you about him." Aunt Petunia glanced at Harry's miserable form. Dudley turned and smirked evilly at him before returning to his mother's ever-loving gaze.

"Don't worry, Mum. Everything will be fine."

Petunia gave her son one last kiss on his pink forehead and let him go, shedding more tears as she hopped into the car.

Dudley walked over and stood just in front of him, his burly figure blocking the smaller boy entirely from view as the car retreated out of the driveway; the tyres crunching on the gravel. Dudley waved his parents off. Harry didn't bother waving. They wouldn't care even if had attempted to.

When they were out of sight, Dudley turned around and sighed, looking up at his house, marvelling at its spectacular view without his parents in sight. He was free to do whatever he liked and Harry knew it.

He narrowed his eyes at a smiling Dudley. "What are you thinking?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm free," Dudley answered, chuckling. "But you're not."

"Oh, is that what you think?"

"Why... what are you going to do?" Dudley's eyes widened with growing terror. "Mu-Mum and Dad said that I'm to tell them if you use your stuff on me."

Harry closed his eyes, putting his hands within the pockets of his trousers and soaking in the warmth of the sun. He wasn't ready to enter the household again and begin his chores.

"Dudley, I wouldn't waste my energy on you, so don't worry," he replied. "Besides, if you do something bad to me, I could always tell my friends."

Dudley tried to keep his face straight. Moments later, he pursed his lips, suddenly thinking deeply. "Let's make a deal, Harry," he spoke slowly.

Harry didn't like the sound of this.

"If you overlook the amount of food I eat and don't tell my mother about it, then I won't let my friends beat you up. That way, we'll all be happy."

Harry thought about it. It wasn't really a deal since there was nothing for him in the agreement. After all, he could just threaten Dudley nonetheless, and he'd be frightened out of his pants. He knew Dudley wasn't going to keep his mother's word anyway. There was no way his cousin would listen to him if he ate more than he should ... but then...

"Dudley, the food has to last! I'm not allowed out of the street to get groceries." The thought of Voldemort killing him on his way to the supermarket sent a shiver down his spine.

"Not to worry, Harry," Dudley smiled mischievously. "Besides, instead of me going on a diet, why don't you go on one for me?" he suggested.

"Make me, cousin!" Harry snarled, though he was slightly impressed with Dudley's first ever smart comeback.

His anger was building up and Harry shot Dudley a nasty look, which made his feelings known, and Dudley understood. He always had Hermione and Ron to send him food, but he liked the idea of having a new power of his own within the Dursley household just because he might let slip something incriminating about how Dudley was treating him to the Order.

***

The same barn owl that Harry had seen flying over Privet Drive landed on Professor Dumbledore's windowsill at his manor but he did not notice its arrival. Getting a little impatient, the owl stared at the back of the professor's head with its wide yellow eyes as Dumbledore calmly sipped his glass of iced tea.

A loud hoot finally claimed the Headmaster's attention. Dumbledore spun around, a familiar twinkle in his old, yet wise, blue eyes. He straightened up and saw the owl stick out a leg, which had a letter attached to it.

The owl, freed of its burden, flew off, leaving Dumbledore to open the letter in the hazy summer heat. He scanned the contents and a sombre expression was imprinted on his face as he read it.

Dear Albus,

I need to be relieved of my position at Privet Drive for a couple of months. The wife of a very dear friend of mine has died in Australia and I have to be with him. He has taken her death very hard.

Harry is quite safe at the moment; he knows very well not to leave the street.

Arabella Figg

Dumbledore nodded and sighed. Harry was indeed safe with the Order agents taking shifts to watch him. He would have loved to set up extra protection around Privet Drive to act as a barrier against Dark wizards and magic until his aunt and uncle could return from their holiday, but the wards required very strong magic - Muggles would notice that something was not normal in their area.

He sat down at his desk and wrote back, telling Arabella that she had permission to leave. Dumbledore turned to one of the portraits. The subject was fast asleep and the Headmaster tapped the frame to wake them up so he could send a message to Order of the Phoenix about the latest development.