Harry Potter and the Valley of Souls

Chapter 2- Inquiries and Intruders

Harry winced under the pressure of his aunt's hands upon his shoulders. He thought his frail bones would break and wondered where all of this pent up rage had come from. Aunt Petunia had been angry with him so many times before, Harry had lost count several years ago. This time, though, he knew her rage was different. Firstly, Aunt Petunia had never come in his room, preferring instead to stand in front of the door and scream through the wood. Secondly, she had never clenched his shoulders the way she did now, favoring a far less personal thwap aside his head.

"Open your eyes, boy." She spoke slowly and deliberately. "If you don't have them open by the time I count to --"

Petunia didn't need to count. Harry's eyes snapped open and focused on his aunt. As their eyes met, she dropped her grip and turned away from the boy to look again at the mess. Harry, his shoulders still smarting from Petunia's clutch, watched his aunt gather her thoughts and wondered if she was drawing her rage from the offensive letters on the floor. He made a move to sweep some of the parchment under more clothes, but Petunia raised her hand suddenly, halting his motion.

"Don't touch them."

Harry sank back into bed, waiting for the blow. He followed his aunt's gaze as she surveyed the room again. The room was atrocious. Parchment formed a carpet along on the floor; covered by the clothes he hadn't yet found the energy to wash. Owl droppings covered most of the bits of paper nearest the window. As Harry raised his eyes from the floor near the window he could see a host of owls waiting patiently to come in and deliver their messages. They did not, for some reason, move from their perches and attempt to make their deliveries through other openings in the house. They merely waited.

Harry waited, too, for his aunt to speak again.

"Mundungus Fletcher is watching this house, boy."

Petunia's voice shook, but Harry thought he detected fear mixed with the obvious rage. His stomach lurched. Though no one from the Order had revealed himself or herself to him, if Aunt Petunia knew about Mundungus Fletcher then Harry was due for some real trouble. He chose his words carefully, trying to gauge her next move.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia. Was he very angry?"

Petunia turned, looking at him darkly. Her eyes softened as she saw the frightened expression on the boy's face.

"Mundungus? He wasn't in this house."

Harry was confused, but before his mind could form the next question, Petunia continued. "Oh no, boy. Mundungus Fletcher knows better than to darken my door. Not unless he wants a whole host of Aurors to drag him off."

Harry's heart surged. It was a familiar yet unwelcome feeling. He had long suspected that Aunt Petunia had been in contact with wizards and now, she seemed to be confirming these suspicions. Mundungus? Aurors? He looked at his aunt squarely and saw that she held a parchment in her hands. Drawing a breath deep into his chest, Harry felt a million questions swirling around in his brain. He hadn't thought much about the wizarding world all summer, not wanting to access the painful memories, but the absurdity of his situation, sitting with Aunt Petunia, discussing the surveillance of the house gave him the courage he needed to ask an unspeakable question.

"Aunt Petunia, are you speaking to wizards?" He'd asked the question before, in a fit of rage downstairs in the kitchen last summer. She hadn't answered him then and Harry didn't know why he'd bothered to bring the question up again. He looked at his aunt warily, expecting her to strike him at any moment. To their surprise, they merely stared at each other.

As she stared at her nephew, Petunia took in another emotion she hadn't seen in the boy's eyes since he was about three years old- hope. Harry had been barely out of nappies when she had been the one to dash his dreams of a happy birthday by locking him in the closet while serving Dudley all of Harry's favorite foods. It had been Vernon's idea then, she tried to tell herself now as the latent guilt washed over her, but she complied and killed all desire in the boy for more than a dozen years.

But Vernon wasn't here now. He wouldn't know that she couldn't kill Harry's hope again, not when he'd been so despaired this summer. Looking at the skeleton before her, she wondered if he would be on this earth much longer and she needed to somehow make amends for the years of emotional abuse he'd suffered at her hands. It was a small gesture, but an important step nonetheless. She needed to answer the questions Lily's child posed to her now, even if she could barely find the words to do so.

"Oh, Harry Potter. You have no idea..." Petunia paused, not sure where to take this sentence.

Harry didn't wait for her to continue as he used the pause to gather the strength to ask another question.

"Aunt Petunia, are- are you a witch?"

Petunia winced as the question came barreling toward her. Harry had never dared to consider the possibility that Aunt Petunia was or had once been a fully participating member of the magical community. He couldn't see her wandering down Diagon Alley with her sister, visiting shops like Madam Malkin's and Ollivander's and from the way she spoke of Hogwarts he wasn't sure that she'd even been there.

But she knows Mundungus and she knows of Aurors and Azkaban.

Harry imagined that he could see the wheels turning in her brain as she contemplated the question. He knew she was formulating an answer that, Harry supposed, would leave him sufficiently in the dark.

Her eyes narrowed as the carefully selected words exited her mouth.

"Harry, I--"

A crash downstairs and the sound of unfamiliar footsteps walking around the kitchen startled them, interrupting their conversation. Their eyes met and Harry wondered if his were as frightened as hers.

"Dudley?" Harry looked at his aunt who shook her head. She eyed the door, still open, with apprehension.

"No, he's not going through the refrigerator." She barely whispered her reply and Harry had to lean forward to hear her. "Boy, get your wand."

Harry hesitated. He'd been in trouble for doing magic in the past and not just with Aunt Petunia. He knew it wasn't worth the risk of expulsion, even if he would be saving his aunt's life. Last summer's Dementor attack proved to him that the Ministry didn't give a lick about him and he wasn't about to give them another reason to chuck him out of Hogwarts. Besides, Harry thought, I can't save them all. I couldn't even save the one I most wanted to save.

Despair overtook him and he stared mutely at Petunia who was very close to panic. Not waiting for the boy, Petunia reached over Harry to grab his wand. She held it expertly, rising to approach the door.

Why? He thought. Why is she so insistent on protecting me now? Just let them come. Let them kill me. I'll be with Sirius.

And Dad.

And Mum.

As Harry's mother filled his consciousness, reason suddenly caught up with him. But, then, if I am killed now, I won't get to hear Aunt Petunia's explanation.

He started out of bed behind her when she turned again to face him.

"Lay down now!" She hissed the command in a whisper, the words seeping through pursed lips as she edged closer and closer to the bedroom door. Harry shrank back to the bed, lifting the covers to his protruding chin. For the second time in his life, he could appreciate the fact that Petunia Evans Dursley was his mother's sister. She was, for some unknown reason, making a move to protect him and Harry was filled with another strange vision of his own mother, this time doing the same thing fifteen years ago when another intruder was prowling around another house. He hoped circumstances would not repeat themselves when the prowler came upstairs.

The noise downstairs got louder and Harry strained to listen, wondering if the trespasser was a member of the Order coming in to check on him. Why, if they were, hadn't they called to him? Harry knew he and Petunia wouldn't welcome the intrusion, whoever it was, but Harry only hoped they were coming in peace. The bottom stair creaked and both Harry and his aunt knew the intruder was coming up the stairs towards them.

"Cover yourself completely, boy! You don't want them to come in and get you. Under the covers, NOW!"

Her barked orders brought Harry back to his senses. He slid the rest of his body under the covers, feeling rather foolish, like a child who has had a nightmare and knows no other place to hide. The sheets were surely no protection from whatever was out there if whatever was out there wished to harm him. Suddenly feeling very stifled and curious, he lifted the sheets a crack to allow his eyes to peek out at his aunt. As he stared at this woman the inquiries swirled through his brain, causing his head to hurt.

Where had this woman come from? Why had she been so quick to allow magic now when she could barely call the wand a wand before?

In the distance, from somewhere inside the house, an owl screeched and Harry saw his aunt mutter a curse under her breath. It sounded remarkably like a spell, but Harry watched the wand, noting that it didn't react. Aunt Petunia handled the wand deftly, Harry had to admit, even now as she was gripped with fear and the boy began to wonder if she was about to actually make a move to use it.

If she did try, would it do anything for her?

Aunt Petunia gripped the doorframe with her bony hands and started to shut the door slowly, muttering to herself under her breath. Just as the door met its frame, a man's gnarled hand reached around, stopping the progress in its tracks. The hand flung the door open sending Petunia to the floor and Harry gasped inaudibly as his eyes filled with a vision of a wizard dressed in tattered rags looming over his aunt, his uncharacteristically long hair draped around his eyes and his throat emitting a low growl.

Aunt Petunia gasped and raised the wand. Harry could see she was in a striking position when the wizard cried "EXPELLIRAMUS!" The wand flew from Petunia's hands and landed at the feet of the intruder. He picked it up and twirled Harry's wand between his fingers.

"I wouldn't do that, Buttercup," the wizard said, never taking his eyes away from Petunia. "You're a might out of practice, I suppose."

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened, a look of shock and disbelief, registering on her countenance. Harry was sure that any minute she was going to turn to him, to demand to know if he knew the intruder, but to his great amazement she nodded as she appraised the wizard.

"Remus Lupin," she whispered. "I should have known."