Chapter 2
Harry woke at his normal time the next day, which is to say shortly after dawn. Long years of waking early to work at breakfast for the Dursleys, and longer years of needing to be at breakfast early in the great hall before people came to point fingers and whisper about him, had him trained to wake and prepare himself for the day at dawn.
He quietly showered before any of the Dursley's woke. After all, hot water was good early in the morning and they could hardly complain when they still had it later now could they? He dried himself off and went with his finest rags and cast-offs for the day. He also decided to start his last day here on a high note for the Dursleys by making them breakfast.
He figured he could mess with Dudley's diet and leave them happy, that way they would remember him with less rage than usual for when he had to return the next summer but he could still be something of a nuisance. He went to work with a small smile.
Vernon woke to the smell of a full English breakfast, which was something he had been sorely missing since his Dudders had come home. Petunia's insistence on trying to follow the comments of that good-for-nothing school medic at Smeltings had him going spare, only his leaving early each day and grabbing scones, gravy, and sausage at the pub a few blocks down from the Grunnings building had kept him from exploding at his darling wife.
He came downstairs to see the freak in his normal place. Or he supposed what used to be his normal place before his freakish murder of a godfather came into the picture. This day was starting right, he felt good, and the smell of beans, toast, and bacon was surely driving it farther and farther in the right direction. He sat for his breakfast and had what would have been his usual portion before this summer. His stomach felt more full than usual and it was a feeling he was relishing, the young freak had yet to say a word and was indeed still cooking in preparations for his Dudley's breakfast.
After he had made some headway into the day's paper, Dudley appeared to his breakfast, and it warmed Vernon's heart to see his son's face light up when Dudley saw the full monty laid out in front of him. Dudley sat down and laid into the food with a will, and Vernon sighed internally as he began what would turn out to be really the least unsavory event of the day for him.
"Boy! When are those freaks coming here to get you? They'd best be dressed like the right kind of people for the neighbors!"
He saw his worthless nephew cringe and withdraw inside himself for a moment, and in that moment he felt like all was right in the world again. Then he remembered who he was talking to, or rather who the boy was related to, and he remembered what he said, and he saw Harry stop his withdrawal and instead turn around and open his mouth.
"What did you just say, oh dear Uncle ?"
Vernon could feel the emphasis on their relation, and he had an idea why that emphasis was there.
"I thought we had a discussion about this, Uncle . I thought we talked about who were the real freaks, and what that meant..."
Vernon could hear the venom in the boy's tone, and he colored as he remembered the discussion the boy was alluding to. The discussion with that disgustingly bright bird and the realization that his life hinged on what the brat told his godfather. He remembered being afraid as he walked out of that conversation, and he hated that fear. The boy returned from the previous years changed from the child he had beaten down for over a decade, and Vernon had a suspicion that the boy might actually be dangerous now. His thoughts raced as he watched the boy's anger grow and then, in what was either a blessing or a curse, the boy removed the apron he had been wearing to catch grease and walked from the room.
Harry fumed silently about the Weasleys being called freaks again in front of him. Ron may be a prat most of the time, Ginny may have been a fan girl of the first order, and Percy was an authority worshipping berk (why did that also seem a bit like Hermione?), but the Twins were like terrifying older brothers to Harry and he loved the lot of them despite their failings. Harry wondered if this was what it was like to have and defend the honor of one's family but having no real basis for comparison, he released the thought. He went to his center, much faster now than he was when he had started out, and he sunk his emotions into his core where they dissipated. He honestly wasn't sure if that was healthy to do, or even a valid technique the monks would have approved of, but after living with the Dursleys the whole summer he had found it to be an excellent mechanism by which he could de-stress. He also felt sure that after all the time he spent doing it because of the Dursleys, his core looked bigger.
At the end of this process, which took him fractions of a second now after a summer of the same activity, Harry reflected that he would soon be gone from this place and that was what mattered.
Holding his palm up in front of him, he wandlessly cast a tempus and found he had an hour to kill before he was to be rescued from this dump. He spent the time debating the virtues of making his trunk featherweight, and whether or not that would be suspicious when the Weasleys arrived.
As it became only a few minutes until their arrival Harry moved his things downstairs. The Dursleys were watching the telly and didn't deign to pay any attention to him, though Harry suspected that was due to the terror his uncle was sure to still be feeling after angering him. Harry knew that if he wanted to head this kind of thing off for the next summer, he should leave the Dursleys with a solid reminder about why one does not anger a wizard, but he was so close to freedom with the Weasleys that he was prepared to let it go nonetheless.
Slowly the time he expected his rescuers came and went, in a move that would surprise everyone and anyone, the Weasleys were late again. Then came a horrendous noise from the left of the telly and behind the Dursley's electric fireplace.
"It's blocked off, how about that, how can I — OW, GEORGE!"
"Quickly, take this," At that an eerie green glow and flames that didn't seem to burn anything spread from behind the boarded up fireplace, "Get back and tell them to — OW, SHITE, FRED!"
There was a quick cry of "The Burrow!" and the glow and the voices disappeared, but not before a ripping sound was heard and a number of brightly colored taffy candies spilled from the edge of the fireplace.
Everyone in the house slowly turned from the drama in the fireplace to stare at Harry who shrugged as if to say, "Hell if I know."
Harry got up and walked over to the fireplace which had been boarded off when the electric fire moved in. No one seemed to be left, and he frankly wondered why they tried the fireplace. Wizards, he reflected, are known for many things, but not for their sense.
While Harry examined the minor damage left from the almost yuletide incursion, a small pop sounded at the sidewalk outside and Mr. Weasley walked to the front door and knocked. Being the only one standing, and the only one leaving, Harry wished his uncle (face colored what he called Migraine-Inducing Magenta), his aunt, and his dear cousin a fine summer and went to greet and depart with Mr. Weasley.
As Harry opened the door, Mr. Weasley immediately went to apologize for any damage, but seeing only Harry instead asked to see his uncle before they left.
"Ah, Mr. Dursley, I'm terribly sorry for coming in unannounced through the fire. I had your fireplace connected to the floo for the afternoon, but we hadn't considered that you would have it closed. After being stuck in there I decided apparition would be best and just popped over for Harry over here!" The red headed man seemed very pleased with himself and happy in general, which did not appeal to Vernon despite having what he considered his own personal Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. He still despised every atom that made up any wizard or witch regardless of the threat he thought rested on his life.
"It was... er.. No problem..." Vernon managed to strangle out, moving as he was between his magenta and red shades. Dudley, having finally realized there was something other than TV going on, caught sight of the taffy near the fireplace and moved his not-inconsiderable bulk off the couch to them.
"Well, just thought I'd say 'Hi' and apologize before taking Harry off your hands here," Mr. Weasley continued brightly, "we'll just be off then!"
By now Dudley was chewing happily on a yellow taffy, and in a move that terrified his family far more than the pig tail he had received three years previously, he burst into feathers and became in a moment a truly massive canary.
"DAMMIT FRED! Sorry folks (Molly would kill me for my language today , he said under his breath), I'll have him fixed in just a moment, my son must have dropped one of his joke candies when we were in the fireplace."
He began moving his wand and whispering counter spells, while Petunia and Vernon both sat back so stunned by the sight of their son in bright yellow feathers that neither could bring themselves to speak.
After a few moments and a half dozen spells that went to no effect, Mr. Weasley just summoned the lot of the candy that had escaped the fireplace to examine it, coincidentally summoning the piece still in Dudley's newly formed beak. As the yellow taffy left his mouth he reverted in another splash of feathers to his normal corpulent state.
"Ah! there you go! My deepest apologies for that, my sons fancy themselves some sort of tricksters and they get up to mischief like this pretty regularly. Well, no harm done, Harry and I will just pop out them, Have a good summer!" Mr. Weasley managed to get it all out in one hurried and embarrassed breath as he guided Harry out to the curb.
"Harry, quickly, grab my arm and grab a hold of your trunk, we must be gone before something else happens."
They quickly apparated away before more damage could be done, leaving a thoroughly traumatized family behind them. Harry internally smirked at the image of a canary weighing 22 stone. That would leave the Dursleys, he thought, with a lasting impression of why one does not interfere in the affairs of wizards. "For they are subtle and quick to anger," he finished with a smirk.