Harry Potter and the Return to Youth

Interlude: The Day After

o ------ o ------ o

"Oh Vernon, how could you?" Petunia moaned. She gazed, horrified, at the bloody mess that was her nephew's still body. "We're worse than dead now. They'll catch us, and when they do, we'll be lucky if they only kill us."

Vernon looked sick. "The damn boy's gone too far this time. I wasn't about to stand there and let him do his freakishness. He was glowing green, Petunia! He was damn well going to kill us himself, or do some sort of vile wickedness worse than he did to Marge two summers ago. He wasn't glowing when he did his abnormality on Marge. We've got to hide him!" Vernon started towards the bed.

Vernon was just passing a small gaming table that supported a hand bell on its edge when Petunia grabbed his arm and jerked him back. Vernon stumbled into the table and the bell fell unnoticed off the edge. "Vernon! They'll know! They probably know already! We've got to go as soon as you can get everyone up and in the car. They will be here any minute. Hurry!" Petunia pulled her slowwitted husband out of the room before rushing into Dudley's room.

The moment they closed they closed Harry's door behind them a pop sounded through it followed immediately by a squeaky voice exclaiming, "Oh no! Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is getting help; Harry Potter isn't to be moving sir!"

She shook him violently and yelled. "Get up, Dudley! Get dressed and run to the car! Hurry!"

"Shut up, Mum. Let me sleep," he yawned. "So Dad shot Harry, big deal." He tried to snuggle back into the depths of his covers.

Petunia wouldn't let up. "Dudley, you remember what I told you about the evil wizards last summer and why we have to keep my sister's freak? The Dark wizards are coming and they want to kill us! We've got to go!"

Dudley was up in an instant. "No! Save me! Mummy!" he whimpered as he grabbed her and attempted to push her between him and the door.

Petunia wrenched his hands off her and in her panic slapped him hard across the cheek. "Get off me, Dudley! Just run for the car now! If they aren't here yet, they will be any second! Please, Dudley, go!"

Much to Petunia's relief, her slap shook her son out of his stupor. With uncharacteristic swiftness he jumped into his shoes and was right behind her down the stairs.

Marge was shouting at Vernon when she began down the stairs. Petunia screamed over her sister-in-law's shouts, "Vernon! Come down to the car this instant! They will be here any second. Hurry!" She reached the bottom and shot into the kitchen to get her purse. On her way out, she ran into Dudley stomping his feet to settle them in his shoes. Vernon and Marge continued to scream at each other. "Vernon! If you're not down here and in the car in thirty seconds, Dudley and I are leaving you two behind!" She yelled hysterically up the stairs before stomping into some of her trainers and running out the door to the garage. Dudley was just climbing into one of the back seats as she got there. She punched a button to open the garage door and climbed into the driver's seat. She was backing the car out onto Privet Drive when Vernon came running out of the house. She stopped long enough for Vernon to climb in and she stomped on the gas and tore out of the driveway.

Dudley gasped and said in a shaky voice, "One of them just appeared on the front lawn! Aunt Marge... They're going to kill Aunt Marge!"

"Too late for that now, Dudley. We go back and we're dead, too! Blown up like Petunia's worthless sister and her scumbag husband." Vernon shot back to Dudley.

Petunia's thoughts raced as she drove. Her family was frightened to silence and didn't argue when Petunia announced that they would stay the rest of the night in a London motel. Her husband and son said nothing while she rattled out her plan. The first thing they had to do next morning was to take a trip to a clothing store. After they had suitable disguises, then it would be off to Heathrow and some place far, far away where they won't find us. She tried to sound confident, and Petunia truly thought it was the best chance they had, but a sinking feeling in her chest told her that it might not be enough.

The drive into London was very subdued, with each Dursley lost in his or her own thoughts. Dudley nervously asked if his parents thought the freaks would catch them, but Vernon snarled at him to be quiet. Petunia was a quiet bundle of nerves and she twitched from time as her dread swelled, causing her to swerve erratically as she drove.

They finally pulled into a bed and breakfast called 'The Croyden Hotel' at three in the morning. Petunia parked the car and Vernon went to the front desk to arrange a room while she and Dudley waited nervously in the car watching shadows.

Liquid ice ran down Petunia's spine as she spotted a black cat entering a patch of lamp light directly in front of them. She watched it as it slowly walked down the concrete walk that buffered the hotel's rooms from the car park. It had crossed their path and Petunia's teeth chattered. It seemed eons later when Vernon came huffing up the walk to the car.

"Finally, Vernon. What took so long?" Petunia snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Bloody receptionist was in the back sleeping and wouldn't come out till she was awake and all dolled up, bloody tart. Now hurry up, let's get out of the car and try to get some sleep," Vernon grumped.

Petunia and Dudley exited and locked the car and followed Vernon up to a second story catwalk. He unlocked the door to suite twenty-six, which was right in the middle of the complex.

They rushed in and Vernon closed the door behind them. "Well, let's get some sleep, then. They won't be finding us anytime soon," Vernon said, as if to reassure himself.

"Vernon Dursley," a dry voice said from a dark corner of the room. They all started and stared as a wand-bearing man stepped into their view. He was dressed in navy robes and had short wiry hair.

Dudley rushed for the door, but the wizard waved his wand at it, causing it to lock with an ominous click. "I have the honor of being Auror Dawlish," the robed man said coolly. "You are all to be taken into the custody of the Ministry of Magic for questioning on the matter of Harry James Potter's murder."

Petunia paled and looked between Vernon and Dudley. They were trapped, this was the end, and she knew it. Auror Dawlish's approach was like looking at the Angel of Death to her. It was over and they were done for. Vernon charged the man and threw himself at him, only to be stopped in midair by a bolt of light from the man's wand. Would she live to have a normal life again? Light erupted from the wizard's wand and everything went black.

o ------ o ------ o

Daybreak found Molly Weasley bustling about the Burrow's kitchen fixing the normal breakfast spread for her horde. The crackling of frying bacon and the sizzling eggs soothed the Weasley matriarch and helped distract her from her laundry list of worries. Most of those worries were centered on a scrawny black-haired boy, who in her heart of hearts, was her seventh son. Molly was the compulsive worrywart and the last few weeks had poured buckets of grease on her worrying fire.

The return of You-Know-Who meant a great deal of danger to all the members of her family. They were all in danger, even poor Percy, though he would not acknowledge it, and the apprehension bound her heart with loose steel cords that were just waiting to be yanked. Thus she did what she could: she took care of her family and constantly fought to forget what could be.

Toast popped from her magical toaster and was spread with butter and marmalade before alighting upon a serving dish. She turned towards it with a bittersweet smile; breakfast was all cooked and ready to be eaten. With a wide sweep of her wand and a locomotive charm, all the food was floated to the table where it was joined with pitchers of milk and pumpkin juice.

Mrs. Weasley made her way to the bottom of the Burrow's stairs. "Breakfast is ready!" she shouted. She went back and sat at the foot of the table and fixed herself a meal.

She was nearly finished eating when the first one came down. Oddly enough, it was Ron, who on a normal summer day would be the last down by an hour or so. She looked at him critically, and after noticing his rumpled look and vein-streaked eyes, asked, "Sleep well, Ron, dear?"

"Mmmph, not really Mum. Slept poorly, actually," he sank down into a chair and began piling food on his plate. Nothing could kill Ronny's appetite. Fred came down next, shortly followed by George. They were as chipper as ever and wasted no time in filling up while exchanging a whispered dialogue she knew was trouble in the making.

Ginny was last down and slumped into her chair as the others were finishing up. Her long hair was a mess and she looked like she'd rather be in bed. "Morning, Mum," her youngest yawned.

"Good morning, Ginny, dear," she smiled in response.

It was Ginny who finally asked the question Molly had been waiting for. "Where's Dad? Did the Ministry call him to sort something out last night?" she inquired in a perfectly innocent voice.

Molly hadn't the heart to tell her children that in reality Arthur had been called out by the Order and that something had happened to Harry. She knew Ginny still had a soft spot in her heart for the bespectacled youth, and, with a moment and a little effort, she managed a credible lie. "Yes, dear, I believe it was something to do with out of control cars. Someone went and charmed them alive and couldn't stop them afterwards."

Ginny nodded and the rest of the boys were just filing out of the kitchen when the post arrived. Molly noticed a Special Edition of the Daily Prophet amongst the morning letters and quickly grabbed and unrolled it. She couldn't contain her gasp when she saw the front headline, 'Boy Who Lived Killed by Muggle Uncle!' Below the headline there was a photograph of Harry's pale corpse on its bed in the St. Mungo's morgue. The only thing that moved in the photograph was a wizard mortician at Harry's bedside.

Her horror hadn't gone unnoticed. Her concerned children all crowded around her and though she was too overwhelmed to take note of who was saying what, she was certain they wanted to know what was wrong. She clutched the paper to her chest and tried to control grief as she stood. Her attempt to keep this from her children was fruitless, however, as Ron grabbed the paper away from her and screeched as he saw the front cover.

"Ron! What is it?" Ginny demanded while the twins tried to read the paper over Ron's shoulder. Molly gave up and her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "Oh, it's so terrible! Harry was killed last night by his uncle," Molly moaned, just as the twins caught sight of the headline.

"What! ... No... no, no, no, no," Ginny quickly succumbed to tears herself while George grabbed the paper from Ron's shell-shocked hold and read it out loud.

"Boy Who Lived Killed by Muggle Uncle, writes Lorraine Ackles, Special Correspondent. Late last night Aurors responded to reports of a Dark Mark in the Muggle community of Little Whinging, Surrey. The mark itself was reported as being above the Dursley residence at #4 Privet Drive, where our young hero made his home. Therein they found, much to their horror, the body of a large Muggle woman that has been identified as Marjorie Dursley, the victim of a killing curse, and the body of Harry Potter, who had been slain by use of a Muggle gun.

Aurors pieced together that the rest of the Dursley family had fled the scene after killing young Harry. They were apprehended later that night in a Muggle complex in the south of London and, under questioning, admitted to killing him. 'The bloody thing woke us screaming in the middle of the night,' Vernon Dursley said during his questioning, 'I told him to shut his trap, but he kept screaming and clutching that dratted scar of his. After all he's done to us, it was the last straw. He was glowing green then, and I knew he was going to do something freakish, so I got the gun and shut him up.'

After extensive questioning, Vernon Dursley revealed that his family systematically abused, starved, and derided our young prodigy in the hopes of beating the magic out of him. It has become clear to the authorities and this reporter that Harry Potter was no more than a house elf who finally outlived his usefulness to these terrible Muggles. For complete details, please refer to the Home Life of Harry Potter on page 5.

One might wonder why our young hero had to endure such terrible guardians for the entirety of his childhood. We all remember that it was the distinguished Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, who had him put there in the first place. Questions have been raised about the Headmaster's initial involvement and subsequent aversion to the subject of Harry Potter's safety and well being. Requests for correspondence with Albus Dumbledore have been unanswered at the time of this printing. This writer hopes that the Headmaster's actions are considered by the Wizengamot in conjuncture with the Dursley case."

The paper dropped from George's fingers as he trailed off. Ginny sobbed quietly into her hands at the table. Ron finally broke out of his stupor and angry tears poured down his cheeks. "I hope they rot in Azkaban for the rest of their lives! I hope his uncle gets the Dementor's kiss! You remember the bars on his window, Fred, George; it was like he was in prison there!" Ron ranted.

Fred, who was scowling fiercely, said, "If I ever get the chance, I'll feed that pig Dudley something he'll never forget!" George nodded a furious affirmative.

Ron moved back to the table and sat crying, with his head in his hands. "How in the world am I going to tell Hermione?!" He breathed in a loud, painful, breath. "Dead, Harry's dead. What now? What next? I hate them!"

Ginny finally made her way into Molly's embrace and continued to cry. "There, there dear... everything will be alright," she tried to soothe. How everything was going to be alright, Molly did not know. In a world where the Headmaster could fail so spectacularly; with murdering Muggles, Harry dead, and Voldemort returned; Molly Weasley did not know where to look for hope and all she felt at the moment was utter sadness and heart-wrenching despair.

o ------ o ------ o

Lord Voldemort threw his copy of the Daily Prophet down onto a rich oak table in his London headquarters. He looked to his faithful and with amusement asked, "It is ironic that one of my most elusive adversaries would die such a death. Tell me what happened when you went to the Potter house, Nott."

A tall stringy man knelt before Voldemort and reported, "I was watching Potter's place as you had ordered, my Lord. It was nearing midnight when the boy started to scream. He screamed for approximately five minutes before I heard a bang; it sounded similar to a potion explosion. I still am not sure what it was. There was more screaming then, my Lord, and three of the vile Muggles ran out of the house and jumped into one of their cars and sped off. It was another seven to ten minutes before the wards collapsed and I entered their home. I immediately went to the boy's bedroom and opened the door to find him lying dead on his bed with Malfoy's freed house elf sobbing all over him. He looked dead. His stomach was a bloody mess and had a large hole in it. I cast the Accipio Animus spell on him just to be sure, and made to remove the body, as I knew you would want it, my Lord. The house elf stopped me and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to touch 'Harry Potter sir' so he could be properly buried. I tried to stun the elf but it evaded and blasted me into a wall. I knew the old fool would be there any minute and that any fighting that occurred would only draw him and the Aurors faster.

I was about to leave when another Muggle looked in and saw me and the boy. I asked her what happened to the Potter whelp. She said she did not know but I could see in her eyes that she did. I cursed her with Crucio and then asked her again before she admitted that 'Vernon killed the Potter freak,' her words. She became an annoyance so I killed her, shot up the Dark Mark and left."

A smile graced Lord Voldemort's serpentine face and he leaned back in his chair. "You have done well, Nott. You were right to leave when you did. It is certain now that the boy is indeed dead." He stood and walked to a large window. He surreptitiously drew his wand and caressed it before him. "Though I desired the pleasure, it does not matter that I did not kill the boy myself. However fortuitous the boy's death may be, it changes nothing. Avery, your task remains, as do all of your tasks. Nott shall be rewarded for service well done. The rest of you may go." Voldemort dismissed them.

The others shot jealous stares at Nott as they exited, while Nott himself was flushed with expectation. It had been over thirteen years since anyone had earned a reward, and with the death of his adversary, Voldemort was in the perfect mood to bestow one. The departed members of his inner circle should still be pleased, he thought; for once, one of their meetings did not end in shrieks of pain.

o ------ o ------ o

AN: Next Chapter: The Headmaster and Aileen Coine

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.