Fear Itself

It was a hot, but dry Friday in Little Whinging, and Vernon Dursley was in a mood. He'd taken the day off, largely due to the fact that he had made a large sale the day before. The boy, he thought, has been much too quiet. Normally Vernon had an out-of-sight-out-of-mind attitude with Harry, which was mutually agreeable to both of them. Lately though, he seemed even more reserved than usual, which smelled like trouble to Vernon.

Whenever he pressed Petunia about it, she would only shake her head and point to the desk. It held the letter from the boy's Headmaster, but Vernon still held the lot of it as rubbish. Something had changed in the way she looked at him. If he didn't know better, he'd have called it pity. Pure codswallop, that's all it was. Vernon had even gone so far as to reread the letter a second time.

The only thing that Vernon believed for one second was the boy losing control and being banned from some sport or other after beating a classmate. This other nonsense about his friends being attacked and nearly killed, and the boy's godfather dying in front of him, he just couldn't believe it. What were those people to him? Served the boy right if it were true, getting mixed up with those freaks. But what if it were true? The thought nagged at the back of Vernon's mind now.

Vernon had a chum at university who'd lost his mother to a car crash. Thinking back, the lad had been rather silent for several months after. He wouldn't step out with the rest of them, only sit in his room no matter how they tried. Finally, after much browbeating, he and his fellows had managed to bring him back into the world. Well the boy wasn't getting that kind of treatment, no sir. Let Petunia deal with it if she was of a mind to, or preferably his freaky friends.

The kitchen door opened to admit the boy, who didn't look at him as he trudged past. He moved quietly to the hall and after a few moments, the shower upstairs guzzled to life. Petunia came in shortly after the boy. Seeing the Headmaster's letter in his hands, she got a determined look on her face.

"vernon, its time we did something about Harry." She paused a moment, as if thinking of what to say next. "He isn't talking about what's happened, but its eating him away from the inside."

"Really, Petunia, I don't know what's gotten into you!" Vernon exclaimed. "If even half of this," he held up the letter, "is to be believed, he's still trouble we don't want. Why've you suddenly taken the boy's--"

"His name is Harry, Vernon. The least you could do is use his name, especially around him. He wakes me up at all hours with his night terrors, but all he'll say is that it's the same nightmare. We've been so hard on him Vernon. No real parents, and just after he finds someone close enough to it, he's lost him. I think its time we started treating him as he is."

"And what would that be??" Vernon's voice raised a notch or two. It was annoying to have this woman, whom he'd known for so long, turn traitor on him.

"Family, Vernon," Petunia replied in a quiet voice. Vernon could hear the row starting, but he didn't care. They were going to have a go right now.

"Now you see here, Petunia!!"

Harry let the hot water roll down his back, washing away the sweat of the day's chores. Aunt Petunia, he was beginning to realize, was genuinely concerned about him. He had thought, more than once, that surely this must be some new torment just waiting to happen. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far it hadn't.

He heard a loud thump from downstairs, but after a moment, no other sounds came to him. After rinsing off the soap, he shut off the water and got out to towel off. When he went into the hallway to go to his room, he could hear the raised voices of his aunt and uncle. He shrugged, since he couldn't understand what they were carrying on about.

Harry dressed and sat at the foot of his bed. He stared at the trunk for a while, contemplating his summer homework, nearly finished. He shook his head and moved to the desk, which held Hedwig's cage and the chess game he was losing to Ron. Hedwig opened a lazy eye, but when Harry didn't look as if he were going to write anything, she closed it again. Harry stared a long time at the board: He was left with three pawns, a knight, a bishop, and his king. Ron's side had considerably more pieces. As he was trying to think what move would protect his king best, there was a knock at the door, which was promptly opened. That would be his uncle, no doubt.

Sure enough, Uncle Vernon's tenor opened quietly. "Bo-- Harry, come down-- Would you come downstairs?" Harry turned to stare at his uncle. Never, ever, had his uncle asked him to do something. He looked red in the face, and it screwed up a bit as if the next word were the vilest he'd uttered. "Please?"

Harry was so floored that he nodded and stood up. Vernon had turned to go as soon as he'd moved his head, and Harry followed him down the stairs. Aunt Petunia was standing at the bottom, purse in hand. His uncle grabbed the car keys from their hook by the door, and they all went outside. Where could we be going? Harry thought. As they all walked to the car, Uncle Vernon appeared to be walking rather stiffly. Aunt Petunia gave him a sideways glance that he couldn't read.

When they got in the car, Harry finally found his voice. "Can I ask, where are we going?" Aunt Petunia turned around and winked at him, then replied in a neutral voice, "You'll see." With that, she turned around and the car started. After driving a while, Harry realized they were going to London. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on. The trip took not quite an hour, during which none of the occupants of the car said much.

Harry's thoughts turned again to the memory of the Death Chamber. The scene replayed itself over and over again. Harry stared out the window at the rolling countryside, but all he could see was Sirius with that half smile slipping away as he fell through the doorway. After what seemed like the hundredth time, Harry realized with a start that they had arrived in London. Uncle Vernon appeared to be looking for a parking place, and they were near Soho. Surely not, Harry thought. It would be impossible, or unthinkable at least.

When he'd found an empty stall, Uncle Vernon parked and shut off the engine. He turned and looked at Harry, giving his best 'behave yourself' look before getting out. Aunt Petunia also got out, and so Harry followed, still incredulous that they'd even think to come here. How would they even know where the Leaky Cauldron was, much less bring themselves to go inside?

Uncle Vernon took the lead, moving down the street and turning down Frith Street. So much for that, Harry thought. The Leaky Cauldron was the other way. After a couple of minutes, they turned to face a ... restaurant? The sign boldly proclaimed the word Tomato. What on earth is this all about?? Harry was starting to get upset, but held his tongue as they went inside.

A rather nice host led them to a table. Harry noticed that the room was well lit, and everyone seemed to have a smile on their faces. Everyone, that is, except Uncle Vernon, who had the distinct look like he'd rather be somewhere else. When they sat down, the host asked what their drink orders were. Aunt Petunia took tea while Uncle Vernon took coffee. Harry, not wanting to strain what looked to be his first dinner out with his Aunt and uncle, took a glass of water. His uncle seemed to nod at this, but his Aunt looked... disappointed.

"Harry," who looked up from his menu to his aunt. "Happy Birthday." Harry did his best to smile, but really felt ill. His aunt nudged Uncle Vernon in the ribs. His face was practically buried in his menu, and he jerked a bit before he pulled it down. "Yes, Harry," he said his name with just a little too much emphasis, "Happy Birthday." He moved to stuff his face into the menu again when his aunt gave him a bit harder nudge. He cleared his throat a bit, and without looking at him, told Harry to order whatever he liked. Harry, absolutely stunned, could only nod.

'Wonders will never cease today,' Harry thought. 'It's not even my birthday yet.' He looked over at his aunt, who only winked at him before returning to her menu. Well, since he was having a birthday dinner, he might as well try to eat well but not strain their pocketbook. Taking a closer look at the menu, Harry realized that the only thing he really recognized was pizza. 'Well that seems safe enough, and predictable too.' It said ten Pounds, and as Harry contemplated whether dessert was safe to add, their waiter came up to the table with their drinks.

"Good evening, my name is Tobias, and I'll be your wait-" he broke off and Harry looked up at a young man, probably about Percy Weasley's age. He was a bit taller than Harry, with blond hair, and slightly overweight. "Well, well, welcome to the Tomato, Harry Potter. What brings you out here tonight?" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both looked suprised to have a waiter that knew Harry. Harry was taken off-guard a bit himself.

When he didn't answer immediately, his aunt answered for him. "It's Harry's birthday tomorrow," she said simply. Harry didn't recognize Tobias from Hogwarts, which would be the only place he could imagine anyone recognizing him from.

"I'm sorry, sir, but do we know each other?" Harry racked his brain, trying to place Tobias' face, but couldn't.

"No we don't, but anyone would recognize that scar." Tobias pointed at his head with a smile. "I'm a Squib, and even we know who you are. Happy Birthday then!" Turning to look at Petunia, he asked, "Noisy, or quiet? He'll get free dinner, of course." Vernon's eyes lit up a bit at this, but Harry looked pleadingly at Tobias. Not missing the look he'd been given, he answered, "Quiet then," with a nod. He took their orders and returned a short while later for refills.

Uncle Vernon looked at him a moment. "Boy, how is it that complete strangers know you, and what is a Squib?" He looked annoyed, but he actually seemed curious. Harry decided to answer the easier question first.

"A Squib is someone born to..." Harry looked around to make sure nobody was listening. "one of us. They're normal people, with no ability at all, but they know our world." Harry wasn't sure how to begin on the other question.

Uncle Vernon wasn't terribly patient. "But how does this chap know you? He recognized your scar, but I don't see how it's special." Aunt Petunia merely sat back in her chair.

"Well, you remember how Voldemort killed my parents?" He waited for his uncle's curt nod. "He tried to kill me too, but his curse rebounded on himself. It was my mother, see - she used her death to protect me, a sort of countercurse. It killed him, but left me with this," Harry moved his hair to reveal the lightning bolt. Uncle Vernon looked as if he had trouble believing it, but didn't say anything. "Up to that point, nobody who stood up to Voldemort had lived to tell the tale -"

"And you have," Aunt Petunia finished for him. She looked sad, but said nothing more.

"That's what makes me so well-known. They call me the boy who lived." Harry looked down at the table. "I'd rather have my parents." His Uncle harrumphed, but said nothing more. Shortly afterward, dinner arrived.