Harry’s eyes were set hard, as stony as they had ever been. Nothing but the odd tone of
that question had set him off, but it was a pre-emptory measure. He knew asking to move,
and the conversation that followed, would probably be one of the most insultive and
degrading processes of his life. Uncle Vernon gloating, cackling at the fact that Harry
thought they might say no- he didn’t, at all, but he was trying to do this properly- and
then most likely gathering together the rest of the family, who would then repeat the
process. ‘Happy as a pig in shit’, was the expression, he believed, and it certainly seemed
to fit them all, especially Dudley. Dudley was even rounder than he used to be, as Harry’s
tireless workouts over the last two years had made it impossible for his cousin to push
him around, he seemed to simply be trying to get big enough to roll over him, like a
boulder.
He could see the collective eight chins between the three of them bouncing as they
chuckled, and he didn’t see why, but it made him see red around the corners, and he
literally felt a wave of nausea as he pictured this. He hated Pivet Drive, but it was home,
if nothing else, and the fact that the people he shared it with actually went out of their
way to show him exactly how unwelcome he was could only be described as
unbelievably depressing. “I want to move out,” he said simply, “me and a... a, uh, friend
of mine, were going to get a flat together, and split the rent.”
Uncle Vernon’s beady eyes seemed to glitter strangely as he looked Harry over, and then
he crossed his arms over his beefy chest, forcing an amazingly smug look onto his face.
“You really expect me to buy this?” he snarled. “I’m not as stupid as the people you are
accustomed to, I can guarantee you that. So you found out about the money, and you
want to take it for yourself, filling some two bit apartment with a bunch of useless items
you want to purchase.”
Harry’s eyes clouded. He could only think of one thing that that meant... but... no...
someone would have told him. He was sure of that. But he wasn’t sure of it at all, and his
voice caught in his throat as he asked. “Money?”
With a snort, Uncle Vernon glared at him. “Don’t play the fool with me, boy!” he roared,
his voice rebounding around the room in a tone Harry only remembered hearing him use
when he was practically drowning in greed. “You know that the freak people you came
from have been sending weekly payment’s to ensure your care... and its a good thing to,
or you would have been off in the orphanage before you could wave your silly stick.
‘Money to make his life better with’ indeed... your lucky we used the part of it we did to
keep you clothed and fed, we certainly didn’t need to go to the expenses we did.”
“Expenses!” Harry cried, and he couldn’t believe how shrill his own voice sounded.
“Expenses!? You mean the hand me downs I got from Dudley, so big I practically walked
right out of them? The bed sheets with holes? The spare closet space you had in the
house? You call those expenses!? All this time... you’ve been holding the few things
you’ve bought be over my head, as a colossal debt I owe you. And now I find out that
you’ve been making a profit off of me this entire time??”
“Silence!” Uncle Vernon thundered, “I will not be spoken to like in my own house!”
Harry took a step forward. Uncle Vernon tensed up, relaxed a second, and Harry took two
more. He was now eye to eye to his Uncle, or at least as close as he could get from the
three inches the man had on him. He didn’t speak for several moments, but when he did,
his voice was barely above a whisper. “Then how about this...” he hissed, and he noticed
with an empty feeling that his Uncle’s eyes were wide with something looked very much
like fear. “Fuck you.”
Fearful or not, Uncle Vernon could snap like any other man. It felt like a granite block
had cracked him directly across the temple, and Harry fell down to one knee, clutching
his head an inch in front of his ear. In front of him his uncle stood, meaty arm and
hammy fist extended, face red, breath pumping in and out of his nostrils like past the
nose ring they put on bulls out in the country. “I WILL NOT TOLERATE-” he screamed,
charging forward, lifting his arm even higher above his head, “YOUR IGNORANCE
ANY LONG-”
There are very few spells that can be performed without the aid of a wand. Most of them
were incredibly difficult, that took years to learn, and still required the focusing of some
other body part or object to work correctly. But then there were some, the first spells of
the wizarding words, that manifested themselves simply on emotion. Fear could give you
protection, a shield, a bubble, wings... and anger could give you a weapon. Harry didn’t
even move, but he felt the power rush out from him, felt it burning from behind his eyes
before lashing out every pore in his body and slamming into Uncle Vernon, sending the
aging man flying backwards into the fireplace. It wasn’t lit, but it was solid brick, and his
Uncle slammed into it with a sickening thud and slid to the ground, a trickle of blood
dripping its way down from beneath his matted hair.
Harry stared in horror at what he had done, but a large part of him was rejoicing. There!
It screamed. It serves you right, you arrogant egotistical bastard. I’m more than you! I’m
better, and I always have been!
“Dad!”
The triumphant scream in Harry’s head was choked down as if by red hot fingers closing
on his mental throat. Dudley stood in the doorway, brought from his room by the noise,
and was staring in terror at his father. He went to move to him, but saw Harry, blocking
the path. Though his adopted cousin made no move against him, Dudley took one look at
Harry and began to back up nervously, eyes darting around the room. His eyes fell upon a
poker lying near his feet, having rolled towards him, sent sprawling by Uncle Vernon’s
fall into the rack it had been hanging on. But Harry saw it to, and his hate filled eyes
narrowed. “Oink” he said simply, rising fully to his feet. In a split second, Dudley
decided to leave his father to fate, and charged back up the stairs, causing an ungodly
commotion in the process.
Harry didn’t waste any time. He wouldn’t be surprise if Dudley would call the police,
bringing them there with some crackpot story of a scarred invader with a gun who’d
attacked his father and was stealing his mother’s jewelry. He grabbed his trunk, tossed
everything that mattered to him inside, and then let Hedgwig out of her cage. He would
have to leave the cage behind, and she could fly free behind him if she wished. He hauled
the trunk up, not even considering using a weight reduction spell to make the load easier.
He was going to earn this escape.
His feet rattled lightly on the walk leading away from the house. He hit the street and
hooked a left, kept going. There would be plenty of time for the Knight Bus later. Right
now, he needed this. This physical removal, walking away on his own two feet, as the icy
night time wind ripped around him. He never looked back.
And he never saw Pivet Drive again.