Trouble

Trouble

Lanni Weasley

"I want a puppy!" Seven year-old Dudley Dursley was swelling up and his face was starting to look like a great big cherry - or, at least, that's what it looked like to Harry. Dudley swelled and swelled and swelled until he could quite possibly not swell anymore. Red was not really his colour.

"Diddykins!" Aunt Petunia squealed worriedly. She bent down to her son's level. "Calm down. Maybe we'll get you a puppy next year."

The mere thought of a dirty, dirty animal in her clean, clean house made her shudder. It was not likely that they would be getting a puppy next year.

"I want a puppy NOW!" Dudley screamed. Finally, he threw himself to the ground, kicking and screaming continuously. Aunt Petunia looked terribly concerned.

"Alright, alright - a puppy it is then!" Uncle Vernon relented, a touch of irritation in his voice.

It was, however, very likely that they would be getting a puppy for Dudley today.

It was Dudley's seventh birthday today. He'd been asking for a puppy for almost five months now. (Harry didn't have to count with his fingers anymore, unlike Dudley, but it was best not to mention that.) Finally, when his birthday had come, Dudley had bawled like a baby, screamed like a two year-old, and had shot his parents' nerves to the ground. It was a wonder how Harry's aunt and uncle had exploded yet, but Harry supposed it was because it was Dudley, and not Harry, who they exploded at when he even breathed too loud.

"In the car, boy," Uncle Vernon growled, as he did almost every time when he spoke to Harry. He didn't say a word as he jumped in the back seat of the car, siding along the door as far away from Dudley as possible. It was never fun to sit in the backseat with Dudley, who saw the close range as an opportunity to punch him in the arm multiple times.

"Ninny," Dudley grinned. He leaned over as much as he could with the seatbelt on and punched Harry in the arm, hard. Harry gritted his teeth in pain, but didn't move a lick. This seemed to disgruntle Dudley so he sat back up and looked out the car window; it was never fun for Dudley when Harry didn't let out a squeal or cry or something to signal pain.

Ginormous prat, Harry thought, never daring to say such a thing out loud.

The car trip to the dog orphanage¹ was uncomfortable to say the least. Aunt Petunia seemed to constantly be gritting her teeth, probably picturing a muddy dog run across her freshly cleaned carpet. Uncle Vernon was gripping the steering wheel in an almost unnatural tight grip (but don't say anything about that because Harry would get in trouble for thinking such thoughts about Uncle Vernon doing something "almost unnatural"). It was a good contribute to the scene to have Dudley grinning cheekily at Harry, mouthing the words "I'm going to get a puppy, and you're not, you sissy" the entire way there like some sort of chant. Harry didn't care about that; he was just staring at Dudley to count how many chins he had now.

Finally, they got to the dog orphanage. Harry hopped out of the car and softly shut the door. From the other side, he heard Dudley slam the door shut and saw Uncle Vernon wince slightly. Inside the dog orphanage, it was very stinky and dark. Aunt Petunia looked out of place and terrified; maybe she germaphobic (but don't say anything about that because that was "abnormal"). Uncle Vernon tried his best to put on a smile as Dudley skipped through the place.

While Uncle Vernon spoke to a scruffy man behind a desk, Harry looked at the door that was sure to lead him to the dogs. He bit his lip, glanced back at the man and Uncle Vernon, and then walked over to the door. What could it hurt? He was just going to take a peek before anyone else.

Harry opened the door slightly and peered inside. On either side of the long room were tall, silver cages. Each of them had to have at least one dog in them. The dogs were jumping up and down excitedly, pushing the front gates of each cage, barking loudly. Harry looked back at Uncle Vernon before he slipped into the room and shut the door behind himself.

The dogs' barking grew even louder as Harry walked passed them. There were all sorts of dogs - big ones, small ones, brown ones, white ones, black ones, spotted ones - there were so many that it almost hurt Harry's eyes to look at them all. He stopped by a Dalmatian and poked his hand through the cage. The Dalmatian was thoroughly pleased as Harry pet his head. Next, Harry dashed down to a big Great Dane, which was taller than him! The Great Dane gave one bark, loud and booming. Harry laughed and ran to the other side to pet a small German Shepherd puppy.

He was having such a good time that he did not realize that the scruffy man, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley were walking into the room. (Aunt Petunia probably wouldn't come in.)

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted.

Harry jumped, startled, and jerked his hand out of the cage of a Border Collie puppy. He tried to retain of look of innocence, but that was never possible around Uncle Vernon, who saw Harry's innocence as pure evil.

"Dad, Dad, Harry's playing with the dogs!" Dudley whined loudly. "He's contaminating them!"

The scruffy man (and he was really scruffy, like a few of the dogs), however, grinned; Harry was astounded to see a set of sparkling, white teeth. So the man brushed his teeth and didn't take a bath? "I assure you that your brother can't contaminate the dogs," he said amusedly.

Uncle Vernon made a noise that sounded like he was choking on something.

Dudley scrunched up his nose, disgusted. "My brother? He's not my brother; he's my stupid, idiot cousin!"

The scruffy man sighed and shook his head. He squinted at Harry, as if trying to study him. "He doesn't look too stupid to me..." he muttered. Uncle Vernon acted as if he hadn't heard the scruffy man; instead, he walked (or waddled, but don't say anything about that) over to Harry and yanked him by the arm.

"Don't touch the dogs unless I say you can," Uncle Vernon snarled. Harry nodded his head hastily. After eyeing him in what he presumed a threatening way, Uncle Vernon let Harry go and motioned for Dudley to come. He walked to Uncle Vernon with the man not too far behind. "Pick any dog you like, Dudley."

Harry watched, disgruntled, as Dudley looked at every dog. He didn't know what he was doing - he wasn't going to pick a good dog. How could he pick a good dog with the brain the size of a yucky brussel sprout? He laughed at a few small, scrawny dogs, causing Harry to glower at him. Not able to watch him any longer, Harry slipped back to the front of the Border Collie puppy's cage and stuck his hand inside.

"Looks like both you and me are in a prison, huh," Harry whispered. The puppy whimpered softly and nudged Harry's hand with the top of his head.

Suddenly, Dudley rammed into Harry, jerking his hand painfully out of the cage and knocking him to the stone floor. "Dad, Dad, I want this puppy!" Dudley exclaimed. "I want this puppy!"

Uncle Vernon and the man slowly made their way over to Dudley.

"This dog?" Uncle Vernon didn't look too pleased with Dudley's choice.

"Luke," the scruffy man sighed. He looked sad to give this puppy away. Dudley turned around to face the man, glaring at him.

"His name," Dudley declared in an 'I am the boss, you lowlife scum' voice, "is Dudley Junior."

Harry would've laughed had he not been in pain - and smarter. He bit his lip in order to control the snickers that wanted to come out of his mouth. He kept his mouth shut and thin; it was hard to keep a straight face.

"Dudley Junior," the scruffy man said, eyeing the poor puppy. "I see." Harry finally stood up and brushed himself off as the scruffy man began to coax the puppy out of the cage, which was now backing up to the wall. "You know, having a dog is a lot of work," the man huffed, reaching for the dog. Dudley looked surprised. "It really is hard to take care of them. Are you sure about this?"

"Of course, I'm a hardworking young man!" Dudley swelled with pride and then smirked at Harry, telling him all he needed to know. Oh, yes, Dudley was very a hardworking boy - when it came to making Harry do all the work.

"Hm." The man eyed the swelled up Dudley and then the scrawny Harry. He glanced at the large figure of Uncle Vernon and then looked back at Dudley before grabbing the collar of the puppy. "Of course you are."

Harry could tell that the scruffy man did not believe Dudley and grinned faintly to himself before flipping his grin back into a blank look when Uncle Vernon gave him a look that plainly stated, "You are not allowed to grin, boy!" Why Uncle Vernon insisted on calling him 'boy' was beyond Harry.

~*~

Harry poked his head into the house from the backyard the next afternoon. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken Dudley to Pier's house for something. That had left Harry and "Dudley Junior" at home. Of course, that name was just unacceptable; it was rude to call such a smart puppy by any name related to Dudley or any form of Dursley. All day, Harry had tried to think up a much proper name for the pup; after all, he'd be the one spending a lot more time with it since he'd be taking care of it. However, he'd come up completely dry - and now very wet and muddy.

It had rained this morning, waking Harry up earlier than what he liked. It was a rare occasion to be able to sleep in, but he had since his aunt and uncle hadn't bothered to tell him that they were leaving home for the day. So, that had left him alone with "DJ", which was the pup's nickname until a more suitable name was thought up. It had been so much fun, today had; for the first time, Harry had laughed so loudly and run around so much that it hurt to move almost. He had played all day outside in the backyard with DJ.

And now, he was to pay the price. Harry was head-to-toe in mud. If he so much as took one step in the house and cleaned everything up, Aunt Petunia would know; she knew everything, it seemed. That left him with little choices on what to do. After half an hour of sitting on the back steps, staring at a pondering-looking DJ, it came to him; he'd hose himself down. Today was a very humid, hot summer day; the idea was perfect. The hose water was freezing, but Harry didn't care. Now that he had taken care of getting the mud off, he had to find a way to get inside and change into some dry clothes.

Suddenly, Harry heard the sounds of a car pulling into the driveway. The Dursleys were home! Harry looked down at himself. He was soaked! He glanced back at DJ. He was caked in mud! Harry looked back at the house, everything spelled out for him.

Sod it all. He. Was. Doomed.

Oh, and so was DJ.

Aunt Petunia was going to die when she saw the two of them together. Not that that was a bad thing, mind you, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't be too happy with him. As Harry stood there, flapping around madly, hyperventilating, his mind was oddly clear. He wondered how he was going to die. Would he be strangled or drowned? Maybe they would smother him with a pillow or simply use the mud since he was already dirty to them anyways. He suddenly gasped, hyperventilating even worse. What would happen if they just pushed him off the top of the rush or ran him over with the car?! Harry wanted (although he didn't really want it) to die peacefully; he never got what he wanted. Life was so unfair to him.

"Boy! Boy! Where is that little nit?" Uncle Vernon's irritated voice drifted into Harry's panicky ears through a crack in the back door. He could see his uncle's large frame walking towards the door.

His eyes began to widen as he uttered words no six year-old should know: "Oh-"

The door burst open before Harry could complete the words. "You know that you're not allowed outside of the house when we're out!" Uncle Vernon barked. "Get inside before the neighbours see anymore of your unworthy figure."

He turned swiftly (or as swiftly as you can with a 400 pound figure [did he really weigh that much?]) and walked back inside, leaving a stunned Harry behind. Harry padded himself down, realizing that he was completely dry. He snapped his head around so hard that his neck snapped; DJ was clean as a whistle.

Harry smirked, confused, and scratched the puppy behind its ears. "All you're going to do is get me in trouble," he told the puppy, who barked happily in response. A light clicked on in his head. "That's it!" He grinned broadly, feeling smart for once. "I know what you're name could be," he said in a lowered voice. If Dudley knew that Harry had taken to so much by "his" puppy, he would wound up crying and complaining like a brat - and punch him, hard. "Your new name will be 'Trouble'. Forget old, stupid 'Dudley Junior'. You've got a real name now. Do you like it?"

The puppy barked in response, clearly telling Harry that he loved his new name (because who wouldn't?). Harry beamed at the dog and trotted inside, forgetting that he "wasn't allowed to beam or look happy in any way, shape, or form". Sod Uncle Vernon's bloody rules.

~*~

After around a week of having Trouble, Harry was so attached to the dog that it was hard to conceal his joy when Uncle Vernon ordered him to take care of him. It was so hard not to grin and bound away joyfully.

Today, after breakfast, Aunt Petunia glowered at the back door. "Junior is getting...awfully...dirty," she commented, sitting down after Harry had given her the hot tea she had asked (demanded) for. Harry sat down himself, away from the Dursleys, watching his aunt curiously while she gave the back door another fleeting glower.

Dudley did his best impression of a sneer; he came out looking more like a wrinkly pug.

"You're giving the dog a proper bath outside," Uncle Vernon informed Harry, glaring at him from across the table.

Harry dropped his head, telling himself that washing a dirty dog was chore work. "Yes, Uncle Vernon," he muttered. However, at this moment in time, washing a dirty dog was nowhere near "chore work" when Trouble was his best friend - the only friend he'd ever come across in his years of starved appreciation and love. Trouble listened to him, didn't call him worthless, and cared. He knew when Harry was upset; he'd whimper and lick the side of Harry's face, nudging Harry under the chin with his furry head.

As Harry scrubbed the soap into Trouble's thick black coat of fur, Trouble panted while Harry snickered. Trouble was completely lathered; Harry, himself, had soap all over him. He'd rolled his baggy pants in an attempt to keep them from getting too wet; his poor pants were terribly soaked. Harry grinned at the puppy; he was having so much fun. Keeping one hand on Trouble's back, Harry reached for the green hose that was sitting next to him. Trouble must've seen this as an opportunity because he leaped out of the small grey tub thing and darted straight for the open door.

"Trouble!" Harry yelled, turning around so fast that he practically threw himself onto the ground. Aunt Petunia, who had been holding a tray that had two glasses of lemonade on it (for Uncle Vernon and Dudley, who were tossing a ball back and forth), screamed loudly when she saw the rampaging puppy heading straight towards her. The tray went up in the air; the lemonade-filled glasses shattered on the ground; Aunt Petunia fell onto the ground; and a soapy Trouble zipped into the clean house.

Fearing that Trouble would get in a lot of, well, trouble, Harry jumped to his feet and ran into the house after the puppy, forgetting that he was a soaked and soapy, too. The wooden floor was cold to his wet bare feet, but he tried his best to ignore it. Once inside the living room, he found that Trouble was sprinting around the couch, barking and growling, as if having a great time. Harry tentatively crawled onto the couch to stay out of the way.

"Trouble," he hissed, "Uncle Vernon is not going to be too pleased with you!"

Trouble barked, as if to say, "Who gives a care?"

Harry panicked. "I give a care! Do you know what he'll do if he gets angry with you too much?" He shook his head. "He'll throw you back into the dog orphanage, he will!" He bit his lip and reached out. "I don't want you to have to go back there. I'll miss you too much."

At the exact moment that Trouble finally stopped and Harry touched the top of his head, Uncle Vernon trudged into the room, bellowing at the top of his lungs, "Get that effing dog out of here!!"

"I am!" Harry squealed. He went to grab Trouble's collar, but Trouble dashed away at the sound of Uncle Vernon's thundering voice. "No, Trouble, get back here!"

But Trouble didn't listen. Instead, he ran straight for Uncle Vernon, who floundered out orders that went unheard. Trouble leapt into the air gracefully; Harry screamed bloody murder; and Uncle Vernon had gone a milky-white. As if going in slow motion, Trouble's small body slammed into Uncle Vernon's belly with so much force that he came falling down like Goliath. Then, Trouble bounded back outside where Aunt Petunia shrieked again and Dudley cried. Harry scrambled over the couch and slid against the wall so as to not step on Uncle Vernon (although he would've liked to do that very much). Outside, he saw Aunt Petunia and Dudley cowering behind a tree as hyper Trouble ran around in circles, chasing his tail.

"C'mere, Trouble!" Harry whistled loudly. Trouble immediately came to a halt and bounced over to Harry. "Sit, please." Trouble sat down in front of hair, panting and wagging his tail excitedly. Harry bent down and hugged the puppy, trying to calm him down. "Good job. You gotta calm down."

"Dad! Harry's having more fun with Dudley Junior than me!" Dudley complained loudly.

Suddenly, someone jerked Harry away from Trouble, throwing him roughly against the concrete patio. Harry looked up, wincing painfully, to see his uncle. He shouldn't have been surprised. Trouble cowered and whimpered; Uncle Vernon grabbed his collar.

"That's it." Uncle Vernon looked like a plum, Harry decided. "He's going back. I hate this bloody dog. He's nothing but trouble."

Harry jumped to his feet. "No! You can't take him away! You can't take him back to that dog orphanage; he hates it there!" he cried out, scared to death. No, he couldn't lose his best friend; they couldn't do this to him. Trouble gave him puppy-dog eyes. Harry crumpled and began to cry. "Don't take him away!"

"Oh, so you like this runt?" Uncle Vernon growled, raising an eyebrow. "Well, that's all the more reason to get rid of the thing."

"No!" Harry began to sob, plead with him - he couldn't just throw Trouble back in that prison. The scruffy man seemed nice and all, but Trouble needed to be out in the open - needed to be free.

"Yes, and that's it," Uncle Vernon stated triumphantly. "C'mon, boy, you're coming with me."

Harry was crying and shaking his head by now. "Please, don't take him away from me..."

"He's going and that's that," Uncle Vernon growled. "Now shut up, boy! You have no right to cry!"

He roughly grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him and Trouble through the house, Harry crying and Trouble whimpering. Once in the front yard, Uncle Vernon threw Harry and Trouble in the back seat hastily, afraid that his neighbours would be looking after all the commotion. He jumped in the car and started it up. Harry jumped at the sound of the engine and felt himself being carried away.

This could not be happening. It had only been a week or so! And now, Trouble was already leaving him. Harry cried and threw his arms around the quivering pup. He rubbed his face in Trouble's warm, thick, black coat; it was comforting as the fur wiped away his tears. He sniffed and continued to shake as he calmed down. Trouble whimpered and licked Harry's face. Harry ran a hand down Trouble's back, hand shaking.

"It-it's going to be alright," he whispered. "You'll see."

Trouble whimpered.

"I-I'll see you again," he continued. "Don't worry."

Trouble didn't whimper this time; instead he laid down and put his head in Harry's small lap. Harry laid down and put his head on Trouble's back. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Trouble was going away. He'd never see Trouble again; no matter how much he lied to himself - willed himself to believe - he knew that he'd lost Trouble already. Tears seeped out from behind Harry's eyelids and dripped into Trouble's fur.

He clutched Trouble's fur as he kept his eyes closed tightly, painfully bit his lip and forced himself to mouth of the words, hoarsely whispering the syllable of a word here and there: "I love you, Trouble."

And just as quickly as Harry had met Trouble, he was gone again. The scruffy man had watched as Harry rocked back and forth in the corner of the room, tears pouring down silently - watched as Uncle Vernon smiled triumphantly and snapped at Harry to get up, move on, and shut up. Harry raced for the door suddenly, screaming that he wanted to see Trouble again, furiously flailing around like a fish out of water. But soon, Harry was in the back of the car again. He pressed his face and palms against the smooth, cold surface of the back window, watching as the dog orphanage grew smaller and smaller.

Trouble was finally gone for good; he was alone again. He collapsed back into his seat after the dog orphanage disappeared from his sight, ignoring Uncle Vernon grumble about how he should've left Harry there, too.