Summer Crescendo

Finally, Draco had done it. He had secured the sacred summer whereabouts of one Mr. Harry James Potter. This was something not even The Dark Lord himself could accomplish. This was big. Draco was rightly chuffed with himself. He hadn't believed his luck when the owl treat he fed to Potter's white owl on the train ride home had worked. It had taken all the skill Draco had learned in the last six years at Hogwarts plus the extra curricular training his father had put him through to successfully cast the spell on the owl treat that would either transfigure the owl or instantly kill her. After months of work, he finally managed a time sensitive transfiguration spell that turned the owl treat into a small locator beacon.

The spell was relatively weak and finicky. You had to be searching for the tone of magic that emanated from the specific wand core Draco's had and know the specific type of spell used. Draco relied on the fact that since the spell would only be visible to him the magic emanating from the spell would be untraceable.

Everything had gone according to plan, for once. The owl had taken the treat with no argument and here he was at Malfoy Manor a few hours later, looking at his private wall map of Britain. It was a beautiful map which displayed the topography and terrain of Britain in incredible detail, nothing short of the finery that was to be expected of Malfoy Manor. There was a small, flashing red dot of smoke hovering somewhere over Surrey. He marked the spot with his quill and waited until he could sneak out of the Manor. Hopefully, Potter would be up to accommodating an unexpected visitor or two. A great sneer slowly spread its way across the opalescent face.

* * * *

Harry felt faint in the heat. His eyes slowly angled their hateful glare at the sky as if to attempt to return the sun's fiery glare. He languidly pushed the mower across the grass and looked at the garden hose with rampant thirst in his eyes. It had been days since he had eaten a proper meal or received more than a half glass of water per day. Was Uncle Vernon trying to outdo himself in the cruelty department?

For a fleeting instant Harry thought of his wand and Unforgivables towards Muggles, but he quickly realized it would never work and the great walrus of a man would probably kill him. The mere presence of the man caused Harry's brain to go blank and spell work became nearly impossible. His body suddenly shivered with dread as he thought back to the beginning of the summer only two weeks ago and the long two and a half months left before his hopeful return to the sanctuary of Hogwarts.

* * * *

Harry arrived home to a very cold house. The rejection of Ron's offer to spend the summer with him at the Burrow, now returned to fill Harry with fear. He should have taken the offer, Dumbledore be damned. But the old wizard's stern warning had echoed in Harry's ears and he politely turned down Ron's idea.

He apparated to a safe point in a school behind the Dursleys' house and began walking to his home, if a torture prison could be referred to as such, for the summer. He hefted his bags into the front entryway and tried to make it upstairs before anyone realized it was him. It was only after the quiet rumble from the family room echoed into stillness that he knew he had been unsuccessful.

"Well, if it isn't our esteemed nephew, Harry Potter!" The derision of Uncle Vernon tone matched the venomous sneer he leveled at Harry as he entered into the family room. Harry's blood froze and he fought down the panic with a resolve earned through years of the horrible treatments.

Harry slowly turned around and walked slowly into the foreboding sitting room. "Hello Uncle," Harry murmured, his face downcast with all the caution of a whipped dog. The fear was practically visible in the voice's quiver and tone.

"Do not address me as your uncle!" cried Vernon. He rose to his feet as he yelled, his face darkened with rage as his temper began to take over his calm façade. "You are no relation of mine. YOU-"the words stung with contempt, "-are a miserable piece of shite."

Spittle flew at Harry's face, but he made no move to clean of the filth. Movement only further enraged the much larger man.

"Did you think we'd stand for it?" Vernon's voice lowered from the furious bellow that filled the room only seconds before to an icy drawl that cut through the thin walls of Harry's meager defenses. "You spreading your little germs to people; you corrupt young children. How dare you come back here after the atrocity you have committed."

"Wha...what are you talking about Unc...sir?" Harry used the involuntary stammer to cover up the slip of title for Vernon. His heart was racing as the ignorance permeated his mind. He frantically tried to think about anything he might have done that would incite such vehement wrath from this man. Nothing was forthcoming.

Vernon sidled up real close to Harry face, so close the boy could smell the faint hints of Earl Grey on the man's breath from his afternoon cuppa. He practically whispered. "Oh you know. You bloody well know what you've inflicted and upon whom, but seeing as how you're so rude that you would presume my stupidity I shall refresh your memory." Vernon quickly illustrated the last word with an unseen punch to Harry's face.

Harry felt his feet lose contact with the floor and he felt weightless, briefly. His face where the vicious contact was made went numb as the shock of the impact hammered his nerves into overdrive. His head met the tiled floor with a sickening crack. Stars danced in front of his eyes and his cheeks were bleeding from cuts his glasses made when they were shattered. He wavered up to a kneeling position and looked at the blurry figure of his aggressor. Harry began to panic.

"The Tuttles down the street have shared a most delightful occurrence with us." The false joy in the voice elevated Harry panic to new heights. "Early in November they received a letter about their daughter Elsa. You remember Elsa, don't you boy?" A big meaty boot caught Harry in the stomach. Harry retched and crawled to the lavatory. Vernon began a slow pursuit. Harry knew he was enjoying this.

"She was 12, twelve years old! How could you do whatever it was you did to her? How could you curse her?"

"I..." Harry paused to expel his stomach's contents into the toilet. "I sw-swear I don't know what you're talking about," Harry pleaded as vomit and blood dripped off his chin and into the toilet.

"She's magic," he spat on the bleeding boy at his feet and said with a sneer, "like you! But her family is normal, not freakishly mutated." He let the eluded slur hang in the still air which was only interrupted by Harry's subdued dry heaves. He leaned down and placed his mouth next to Harry ear and smiled as he noticed blood trickling out of it. "How did you do it? How did you take that poor little girl and corrupt her?"

Harry body shook with the absorbed blows as his ribs took the punches that illustrated the larger man's tirade. He saw Vernon smile when he felt a few of the frail boy's bones break under his barrage of punches. Harry began screaming in pain. The other man paid no attention and continued his harangue.

"Her parents, being sensible, wouldn't tolerate a mutant like that in their house, of course. They took her to a doctor, a surgeon to be exact. She went into operation to remove the "abnormalities" in her brain and regain normalcy."

Harry felt something tight in his hair, and excruciating pain as his head was lifted, making him move his severely damaged torso. He heard more than felt the porcelain of the toilet crack as his head and shoulders were bashed into the rim and the white tile began to run red.

His grip on consciousness was fading. He fell to the floor, a bloody grotesque mess. His arms twitched as the damaged synapses in his head misfired from imagined stimuli.

"Well, my dear boy, I though you should know that she is now dead. Died in surgery. Your little playmate is gone. Her parents moved away from here and I swore to them I'd make you pay." He backed up a step to survey his damage. "I think I have begun the process on a very good note."

"Welcome home, boy" the man whispered hatred and loathing dripped from his words and he left. The light flicked off and a door opened and shut somewhere. Before Harry passed out on the floor of the bathroom he heard the car start and drive away. He was safe, for now. Slowly, his left eye shut and he passed out.