"Yes, I know that…place where my sister bought her school supplies is," Aunt Petunia sniffed. She had been forced to go with her parents and sister decades ago when a then Lily Evans received her Hogwarts letter. She could still remember the day, the disgusting way her parents doted over her sister and how happy Lily was. She never thought she would have to deal with that world again.
Funny how life works against us sometimes.
"Then you will give me directions to this place," Harry said. "In return, I will make breakfast, lunch and dinner for your family until it's time for me to leave for Hogwarts at least…three times a week."
Petunia, who had opened her mouth to deny helping him getting any supplies for school, closed it upon hearing his offer. This was how things usually went now. Harry would offer a compromise in order to get what he wanted. He could just threaten her; they both knew that, but Harry was better than that, was better than the Dursleys who would've threatened him had their situations been reversed. He would not resort to violence unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Very well," Petunia said at last. "Tomorrow we'll take you to…that place," she shuddered at the thought of going back there.
"NO!" Vernon roared as he suddenly stood up and glared at Harry. "You're not going to that school! The last thing we need is for even more freakishness from you! I won't let you go somewhere that'll have you learning any of that ridiculous wand-waving and freaky unnaturalness! I've put up with more than enough from you!"
"Vernon!" Petunia gasped, her face paling. She looked over at Harry, whose face held a look of mild annoyance. Of course, any expression on Harry's face often times greatly downplayed the emotions he felt. It was very rare for him to actually display his thoughts and feelings in such a way that someone else may be able to notice through observation.
Harry's finger twitched. The urge was there. It was small, but the desire to use his magic, lift his uncle into the air and hurl him through a wall was there.
He resisted. He was better than them; better than his uncle who used to give him lashings; better than his Aunt who pretended he didn't exist unless she wanted something; better than his cousin who was a bully who enjoyed picking on those weaker than himself. He was better than all of them, and he would not stoop to their level.
Still, the urge was there, a whisper in his mind. It existed, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
"I'm surprised at you, Uncle Vernon," he said instead, his voice mild mannered and reasonable. "After all, if I were to go to this school, you wouldn't have to see me for nine whole months."
"Nine months?" Vernon's eyes lit at the thought. Harry could see the wheels in his uncle's fat head turning. On the one hand, he clearly did not want Harry to learn anymore magic, or freakishness, as he was so fond of calling it. But on the other hand, not having to deal with Harry for nine months out of the year was too good an opportunity to pass up.
"Nine months," Harry confirmed. "Nine months without seeing or hearing from me. Nine months without my…freakishness." Here, he smiled a cold smile that caused Vernon to flinch. It seemed he remembered quite clearly times when Harry had not been as…tolerable as he was now.
"Nine months…"
The look of fear gave way to a look of thoughtfulness. Yes, nine months was quite a long time. No doubt his uncle was thinking of all the things he could get done without having to deal with his magic using nephew. Harry could almost see the cogs in the fat walrus of a man's head grinding together, turning with pandering slowness; he could practically see the man's thought process.
"Very well," he said after a few minutes pause. "I will allow you attend this…school." He grimaced, clearly not pleased with the idea, but it looked like the thought of going nine months without having to deal with Harry was the better end of the deal in this instance.
"We have an accord then," said Harry, before making his way towards his room. It wouldn't do for his relatives to see how excited he was.
…..
I cried out in alarm and pain as my back slammed against the other side of the broom cupboard. Agony lanced up my spine and my already hurt arm began to feel like Uncle Vernon had stepped on it and ground his heel against it.
"You'll be staying in there for the rest of the week to think about what you did, boy! I won't be having anything unnatural going on in this house!"
The door slammed closed with a loud 'BANG!' and I was engulfed in the darkness of my home once more. As the light disappeared tears sprung to my eyes, both from the pain in my back and arm, as well as from Uncle Vernon's words.
I still don't understand how what I did was wrong. All I wanted was for the blocks that Dudley was throwing at me to not hurt anymore. Could they be upset because I made the blocks turn into feathers? But I used to do that all the time with mum and dad. They had always been so proud of me whenever I would float something or change something into something else. They never got angry or upset, never scolded me; how could what I did be bad?
Gingerly, I sat up, wincing and fighting back another cry as pain shot straight up my back. Trying not to grimace, I finished sitting up and brought my arm up to look at it. I couldn't see it, though, my eyesight has never been that good, even so, I knew that if I had some light to see with all I would find was a large bruise where Uncle Vernon had slammed my arm into a wall while dragging me to my cupboard.
Not knowing what else to do, I curled up into a ball and tried not to cry. I failed, and began crying anyways, though I did not make any noise. Uncle Vernon would get upset if he heard me.
And so I cried in silence. But these were not tears of pain though, no, I had been hurt worse before. These were tears of frustration, tears of anger, but most of all, they were tears of hate. I hated my relatives, the people I called aunt, uncle and cousin. I hated the whole lot of them. I hated them so much that just thinking about how much I hated them made my head hurt.
As I lay there, shedding tears and cursing the day I had been stuck with these people, I could not help but think that all of this would be different if I had the power to defend myself.
If only I had power.
If only...
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