Love On Risky Ground

Love On Risky Ground

Chapter 4

Emergency

Harry tediously tried to flatten his hair as he heard the car come to a stop in the Dursleys' driveway. He backed a little to the side and lifted up the lace curtain covering a window to see what was happening outside. He heard his uncle shut off the vehicle's ignition, but could not see fully into the car because of the reflection of the house on its windscreen.

Dudley's heavy footsteps vibrated through the hall as he ran towards the door. He had to pull up his trousers along the way since they had begun to fall a little. Dudley huffed as he stopped, shoving Harry out of the way. He made Harry back against the wall with a hard clash and rebounded a little because of the force.

"Ouch!" Harry said loudly. His cousin just smirked, anxiety hidden beneath the smile.

"Is everything in order?" Dudley whispered, his smirk gone and his eyes wide with exasperation at the foreboding appearance of his parents. He fiddled with his tie and breathed deeply, waiting for Harry to answer him, and suddenly sneezed. Harry's flu had caught hold onto his cousin, and he was silently dreading the next couple of days. The experience of Dudley being sick in the past had been a nightmare, he thought. It was worse than when he was completely healthy, because Dudley would think that he had the right to special treatment.

Yeah, Harry thought, his cousin needed special treatment ... at the Vet.

Harry simply nodded as he straightened up, pain throbbing in his head, arrhythmic with the beat of his heart. "Just let your parents in," he croaked as he adjusted his round glasses by pushing them up his nose with the aid of a finger. The white-lined crack in his lens obscured Dudley's face a little. He began massaging his scalp in a futile bid to soothe the pain.

Dudley fumbled as he grasped the highly polished golden doorknob. Harry was a little glad that it was all over. If he had had to spend one more day with his cousin, then he would have killed him with his bare hands. The whingeing, the screaming for food and the mess he made... Dudley should have belonged to a farm.

Dudley pushed the door open and stood transfixed as his mother walked towards him, her white polka dot skirt swirling as she moved. Harry pulled himself forward sombrely and looked over his cousin's shoulder.

"DUDDYKINS!" she said lavishly in a high-pitched voice, which made several dogs bark across the street. Her hands were in the air, ready to give Dudley a crushing hug. "I missed you so much, my Dinky Puddikins."

Harry cringed at the most absurd nickname his aunt had produced yet, as she wrapped her arms around Dudley with a huge grin that heightened the look of her marvellous straight teeth. Her hair was done up nicely, put back with blue translucent pins, letting the rest fall in thick, luscious blonde curls. Dudley stood frozen on the spot while his mother affectionately snuggled him. However, as he slipped out of the house to help his uncle, he did notice a look of horror on his cousin's face. Vernon had opened the boot of his car and had started yanking out the suitcases with a quiver of his greying moustache.

"Hello, Uncle Vernon," Harry said.

"Ahh, start taking these bags inside," his uncle ordered without even saying hello to his nephew. Vernon thrust a carry case at Harry's chest, taking the wind out of him. "Oh!" He sneaked closer to Harry, his eyes looking like mere slits carved by a sharp knife. Harry took a step back, intimidated by his uncle's close presence. "I trust you did not cause any trouble, boy," he hissed, little specks of spittle hanging off his bottom lip.

"Er... no, no nonsense, sir. Honest." He quickly removed himself from his uncle's space, hoping they would never find out about the windows he had broken when Hedwig died.

Petunia let go of Dudley and flicked her head towards her husband, her curls bouncing around as Vernon locked the car and lifted a large black suitcase. "Vernon..." She smiled. "Don't you think Dudley has lost some more weight?"

Harry snorted midway down the hall, dropping the bag with a clunk. He had thought that his aunt would notice her son's increase in weight. However, he thought as he turned around to look at the Muggle family, minds can work in mysterious ways. He doubled up in laughter, but quickly his bright chuckles turned into a coughing fit and a horrible headache took control of one side of his head.

"Cover your mouth. I don't want spores of your flu floating around the house and giving us all your cold," Petunia snarled as she passed him. Dudley sneered at Harry as he followed not far behind his mother.

"Did you get me anything?" Dudley coughed, hoping to get a treat.

Petunia zipped open her bag and her fingers prised out a tightly wrapped box, which was trimmed neatly with string. "Here you go, for your birthday. Of course, it's just one of your presents," she added before Dudley could throw a little tantrum, which he still did, even though he had turned sixteen.

Harry ran upstairs and looked over the side while Dudley ripped open the package. Torn pieces of paper floated to the ground. He doubted that his guardians would ever get him the object that Dudley held in his hands.

"Mum... a mobile phone!"

"Yes, yes." She smiled, giving her son a sloppy kiss on his pink cheek.

Harry sighed. His uncle returned after checking on the backyard. "Petunia," he said grumpily, giving Harry a reproving look. His finger was pointed towards the backyard.

"Yes, dear," his wife replied as she spun around, batting her eyelashes. Harry thought she seemed very happy, almost too happy for his own liking.

"Someone has piled up dirt under the tree. It looks horrible," he breathed out. "What did you do?" He asked of Harry, his voice low and unsteady.

"I buried Hedwig," he replied gloomily.

"Who?" his uncle retorted, his mouth shaping into an 'O' as he said the word with great exaggeration.

Harry puffed in growing anger. "She was my pet owl; the one you said makes too much noise."

"How on earth did it die?" Aunt Petunia asked, her happy mood vanishing as she clasped her hands together, looking at Harry with a blank face.

"Why don't you ask your son?" he replied bitterly. "After all, it was his fault to begin with."

Dudley could have killed Harry with the expression he was giving him. Harry took his hands away from the staircase railing and crossed his arms, standing upright and confident.

"Mum... he's lying," Dudley said, trepidation streaking his words.

Harry opened his mouth in complete shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His cousin had just lied, faking his innocence in front of his parents and making him look like he was framing their son. "I AM NOT!" Harry yelled. "His friends were throwing rocks at her, and it killed her!"

"How dare you... accuse my son?" Vernon shook, purple spots popping up on his face before their very eyes. He had not even hesitated at Harry's words, choosing to believe his son. "Go to your room!"

Dudley agreed with his father, nodding silently. "I swear, Dad, I was nowhere near that bird."

Harry frowned deeply, wrath towards Dudley and his parents mounting by the second. The pain in the back and side of his head doubled as he stared into his cousin's eyes with an intense loathing. "YOU PEOPLE-"

Harry stopped himself before he could go on. He faltered; stillness had entered the hallway and a moment later he bolted to his bedroom. He closed the door and hid in a dark corner of the room, away from the world. Harry slowly slid down, bending his knees before him, until he reached the floor. He needed the quiet greatly, and as he sat, huddling his legs, his chin resting on his knees, it almost cured his anger and the headache he was feeling.

Hours had drifted past when Harry saw Pigwidgeon flutter into his bedroom, twittering madly. He blinked, seeing a large package and a letter swinging in the small owl's grip. The owl swooped down and Harry snatched it lazily from its grasp.

Harry,

The letter read:

Mum thought some Honeydukes' chocolate might cheer you up, while Fred and George thought you should stick some Filibuster's fireworks into your cousin's pants. But Mum found the fireworks in the package and went ballistic ... so we can't help you there. Sorry mate.

Hope all is well. We'll get you out soon.

Ron.

Harry smiled weakly and wrote back.

Ron,

Any chance you can still smuggle the fireworks to me?

Well, all is fine considering my aunt and uncle have come back from holiday. Dudley - there is no word to describe that spoilt brat!

I can't wait to get out of here and see everyone again.

Anyway, I'd better go, the weather hasn't been too friendly with me and I want to get some sleep.

Say hello to everyone. Thanks for the chocolates.

Harry.

He tied the letter to Pig's leg and watched the owl fly out, breathing slowly and feeling slightly drowsy. Harry thought that it was the weather playing havoc with his system again. He closed his eyes. Even though the room was dim, the light had become unbearable to him, and intricate patterns began emerging in his semi-consciousness. A blurred image of Hermione appeared. She wore a periwinkle blue robe and her hair was put back in a bun. She tilted her head and smiled brightly at Harry. He could not help but wish she were really there with him as her image disappeared into the void.

***

"Harry! Come downstairs right now!"

Harry woke suddenly, hearing his aunt's shrill voice. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, obeying her order. He droned as he made his way downstairs, feeling weak. It had been a day since they had returned and Harry had been banished to his room as punishment for accusing Dudley.

"What?" he replied, squinting at the bright light of the kitchen, sunshine reflecting off the white walls, blinding his eyes with pain.

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice when addressing me," she spat.

Harry couldn't take her yells. It hurt his ears and dramatically increased the pain in his head. He grimaced on the spot, waiting until she had stopped. "Aunt Petunia, please don't yell. I've got a headache," he pleaded, gently shielding his eyes from the unbearable light.

"Well, take the garbage outside and when you come back I'll give you some aspirin," she curtly replied.

Harry hauled the bag over his shoulder, pain making him cringe, and dropped it in the outside bin. He returned to find his aunt holding out a cool glass of water and the medicine.

"Here."

He gulped down the medicine but could see his aunt biting her tongue as if she wanted to say something. "What is it, Aunt Petunia?"

"I want you to apologise to Dudley for accusing him," she said, placing the pink rubber gloves back on her hands.

Apologise? Harry thought as he watched her scrub the plates, his mind drifting off now and again. He furrowed his brow, creating a heavy strain on his forehead. "I don' understand why I should say sorry," he finally stated.

"What do you mean you don't understand?" Petunia whispered, putting her hands under the frothy water.

Harry looked away, frowning and shaking his head. The fact was he could not even remember much from the day before and the situation was starting to confuse him deeply.

"I don' know," he simply replied. His aunt was furious, her cheeks blushing crimson. Harry wanted to get out of the room and away from the commotion. He was getting stressed and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"You accused him of killing your owl," she retorted, getting angrier.

"Hedwig." Harry raised his hand in an effort to stop her from going on. A trickle of memory came back to him from between muddled images. He swayed gently on the spot and took a deep breath. He just wanted to escape this and lie down, so he gave up to whatever she wanted. "Okay, whatever."

"Fibber! You are not going to say sorry, are you?" she continued with a chortle, waving her hand around with a hint of sarcasm. "Dudley did not kill that owl ... Admit it."

"STOP!" Harry yelled, kneading his forehead, pain rippling in tiny waves from the left side of his head. Aunt Petunia halted. With pursed lips she looked at Harry with hateful eyes, despising every inch of his flesh. He bowed his head.

"I'm not goin' to admit anything," he breathed quietly. "Because it's about time I stick up for myself, without letting my own kind help me all the time."

"You're -you're just like that mother of yours, always hiding secrets," Petunia fumbled.

"SHUT UP! DON' TALK 'BOUT MY MOTHER 'CAUSE SHE WAS BETTER THAN YOU'LL EVER BE! YOU'RE ALL DESPICABLE!" Harry shouted, his hair standing on end, his hands in tight fists as he said the words; words that were long overdue to be said in front of his guardians' faces. The feelings, which he had bottled up for most of his life dispersed out in invisible heat waves, radiating around him. It made his head ache even worse, but it was worth it.

Petunia paused, eyeing Harry with a look of worry.

"You think you hate me... I hate you even more," he finally said through gritted teeth, leaving his Aunt Petunia lost for words. He stumbled out of the room, feeling dizzy.

Harry slammed the screen door shut and walked over to Hedwig's grave. The ground hit his knees hard as he knelt before it. His heart raced within his chest and his headache had gotten worse. It felt as though there were four smiths hammering his skull, the blows excruciatingly painful, as he started to sob without realising that he was doing so.

His eyelids drooped, forcing a tear to escape and drip onto his jeans. Harry wiped the salty streak away from his face with his hand, driving all his emotions from his mind and tried to relax, sitting comfortably under the cool shade of the tree. The golden light of the afternoon sun was blocked by the dense canopy, although when some of the leaves moved in the welcoming, but weak breeze, a tiny ray occasionally leapt at the opportunity to hit the earth.

Harry's headache was taking too much energy for him to notice anything else. He absent-mindedly gazed at Hedwig's resting place, confused at what it was for a moment or two before he recognised it. His mind slowed down and he blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Miss you... jus' like ev'ryone else I've los'," he mumbled in a slur. He saw a daisy near a thick root belonging to the tree and picked it off. Harry twirled it between his fingers and then gently placed it on the soil, which hid Hedwig, silently staring at it.

He heavily got up, feeling sleepy, and quietly strode up to his bedroom, recoiling whenever he heard a loud sound bothering his eardrums and just fell onto his bed. The soft pillow caressed his head soothingly. The heaviness of his body pushed him further into a drowsy state ... down, into his subconscious.

***

"Harry Potter! I'm coming up this instant ... I'm sick and tired of your disobedience to your uncle and I. It is so unlike you," Aunt Petunia screeched, wiping her hands on her apron after she had made sure the roast for dinner was cooking nicely. She walked up the stairs and pulled Harry's bedroom door open. She especially disliked entering her nephew's bedroom. Something about the atmosphere of the room gave her an eerie feeling and Harry's once living owl's bright yellow eyes had frightened her. She supposed it was his freakish abilities that were to blame.

"Your uncle has been calling you to help him tend the garden," she said, entering the bedroom.

The Dursley house was bathed in complete silence for a few minutes until a door suddenly slammed on the upper floor. Petunia quickly raced down the stairs, her bosom wobbling because of the speed with which she descended. Her hair flew wildly behind her. She breathed heavily, needing to find her husband as quickly as possible. She searched every room in the house, even forgetting to reprimand her son for eating outside of mealtime.

"Vernon... Vernon, where are you?" she frantically called out, her lips trembling. She walked into the kitchen finally and Dudley stopped eating, wiping a creamy smear off his upper lip and hiding whatever he was savouring.

"Dudley," she said, looking around. "Where's your father?"

"In the garage," he replied, pretending to be innocent. "Why?"

"Quickly, go fetch your father," she said, her voice anxious. "And tell him to go upstairs to the boy's bedroom."

"Why?" Dudley asked again with narrowed eyes.

"JUST DO WHAT I SAY!" she yelled, and then ran back up to Harry's bedroom.

Vernon trotted in, taking large steps as he entered the room. "What is it, Petunia? What's the boy done now?" He angrily squinted towards the bed. Dudley stood behind him, wanting for an answer as well.

Petunia sat down on the bed. Harry was lying on his stomach by her side. She looked at him and then up at her husband. "He's not ... he's not waking up."

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean he's not waking up?" he asked, his face straining.

Petunia raised Harry's cold hand and patted it very fast several times without any response from him. He did not rouse even slightly at the annoyance. His aunt then slapped his face; still, there was no movement. She then pinched him, and he flinched a little, raising his arm to stop his aunt from pinching him further, but nothing more.

"See, and he's cold as ice, Vernon," she said, shaking a little.

He walked over and pulled Harry onto his back with one huge pull. Harry flopped over, sleeping peacefully. Vernon looked at him and put his hands on his shoulders and shook him for a moment. But still he didn't wake up.

"Wake up, boy," he said bitterly, shaking him again as Petunia got up. Harry's glasses bounced off. He moaned and opened his mouth a little to say something, but sound never came out of his mouth and his eyes never opened ... remaining tightly shut.

Vernon let go of him. Harry's head rested on the pillow once more. Petunia stood back with both her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes wide with fright. "Vernon, something is wrong. Should we take him to the hospital?"

Vernon hesitated for a split second, staring at Harry when he noticed a small trickle of blood oozing out of his left ear. "My God!" he gasped.

"What is it?" his wife spoke, her voice shaking.

"Call for an ambulance," his uncle said with urgency. "Quickly now."