Chapter Text
Harry had to admit, things weren’t all bad now that he was back at the Dursley’s. He had never admitted that he couldn’t do magic outside of school. All he had to do was walk around with his wand in sight and the Dursley’s avoided him. If he asked them a question, they answered as quickly as possible and then scrambled into a different part of the house. Sometimes, Dudley wouldn't notice the wand until he was too close, and whatever nasty thing he had been about to say or do vanished and he scrambled away from Harry as fast as he could. Watching Dudley try and move quickly with his bulk - which, Harry noticed with disgust, had grown again over the break - was actually very amusing.
Aunt Petunia was usually the one who saw Harry most, and that was just to point to the dishes or the garden or the fridge. Harry was fine with doing chores - it kept him busy, and honestly gave him time to relax after working mentally on his homework. He liked cooking, even if he rarely had a chance to taste what he made. Now, at least, there was a chance for him to smuggle some of his cooking upstairs to his room, and even if it was cold by the time he got upstairs, it was better than nothing.
Erus, who was now free to spend as much time as she liked with Harry, since the Dursley’s were too afraid to say anything, was also pleased. She liked more than ever to drape herself over his shoulders or wrap herself around his neck like a scarf. Sometimes she would have to leave him to hunt for mice, but he left his window open and always went downstairs and helped her back inside when she came calling back.
If there was one thing that bothered him, though, it was that he hadn’t heard anything from his friends.
Both Ron and Hermione had been given his address so that they could write letters to him. They had both promised to do so, but it was almost the beginning of second year and Harry hadn’t seen even an owl. Erus was sure she had seen Dia once at the beginning of the break, but Harry had never and there had been no letters.
He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. While Ron and Hermione had been given his address, he hadn’t asked for theirs because they would write to him. His plan had just been to send the letters he had written for them back with Dia and Ron’s owl. But now, with most of the break gone and not a word from his friends, Harry didn't think he was wrong to be hurt and upset.
Harry sighed to himself as he dipped his quill into the ink. This was his tenth letter to Ron and Hermione, and even though all it said was that he was doing well and missed them and Hogwarts, Harry felt sad looking at it. The rest he'd hidden inside one of his text books. He hadn't decided if he would give the letters to Ron and Hermione when he returned to Hogwarts. He supposed that had a lot to do with their reason for not sending him letters.
“Do you think they have forgotten me?” he asked Erus quietly.
Erus hissed at him wordlessly, flashing her fangs to show how annoyed she was. He had been asking variations of the same question all break. “You know they have not, speaker. Do not say such silly things.”
If he was being honest, Harry knew there was no way Ron and Hermione had forgotten him. They had faced so much together in their first year, and Harry thought they had a good friendship. He didn't think people that faced a troll together, or Voldemort, or the entire Slytherin house, would be the kind to not at least... Write to one another?
At least he had thought so. Now the doubts were creeping in, because even though the Dursley’s were tolerant of him because they feared what he could do with magic, it wasn’t like they liked him. If anything, it made Harry a little apprehensive to think of what would happen when the Dursley’s realised he couldn’t use magic. It was like a rope, frayed to the last string. When the Dursley's learned that he had been taking them for fools (which wasn't hard, honestly), he wasn't sure what they would do.
The thought had him rubbing his shoulder. It hadn’t hurt since Madam Pomfrey had given him all of those disgusting potions to drink, but it was habit. Lessons with the Dursley's hurt, and he was almost certain that this would be a lesson they wouldn't want him to forget. Harry heard the sound of Uncle Vernon’s feet up the stairs and looked to the door. His wand was in easy reach, but he wondered if maybe there was a way to keep a hand close and easy to grab. It seemed… slow to keep it in his pocket or on his desk, in sight.
His door opened without a knock, but Harry was used to that. It almost made him relieved that some things hadn’t changed. He could still anticipate some things.
“Boy,” Uncle Vernon said, his eyes immediately falling on the wand next to Harry’s hand. “Boy,” he repeated, sounding like he was trying not to say something worse. “You need to stay up here this afternoon.” The way he gritted his teeth around the words, like being polite to Harry physically pained him, would have bothered Harry a very, very long time ago. As it was, he supposed he should be thankful that this was now normal.
Harry blinked and tilted his head. “The dinner with Mr and Mrs Mason is happening after all?” he asked, and was gratified to see his uncle looking lost as to how he had known about something he had no business knowing. Telling Uncle Vernon that he was loud, and that Harry did have ears, wouldn't be wise, so Harry kept his mouth shut. This was all such a delicate balance, and he didn't want to break it.
“Yes,” Uncle Vernon replied at length, recovering some of his usual bluster. “They will be arriving for dinner at six o’clock sharp. They have no idea you exist, and I will not have you ruining such an important moment for me.”
“Whatever you say,” Harry said, already bored of the conversation. People that had no idea he existed were everywhere. He had no interest in them.
Uncle Vernon stepped closer, and hundreds of memories flashed through Harry’s mind in the moments it took him to snatch his wand, stand, and point his wand at Uncle Vernon’s forehead. Hundreds of painful, humiliating memories.
Erus was at the edge of the desk, ready to strike. She let out a constant hiss, wordless and threatening.
“Not another step,” Harry said quietly, letting a calm smile stretch across his face, even if he felt anything but. “You don’t want me to bother your guests, and I don’t want you to bother me. As long as we understand each other, there’s nothing else to say, is there?”
Uncle Vernon stood rooted to the spot, almost going cross eyed to keep the wand in sight. He stepped back, and Harry let his arm drop. Erus remained alert, the hiss quieting but not subsiding completely. His uncle kept moving until he was out the door, and it was only then that Erus settled.
Harry sat back down, shaking out his hand as it trembled. He glared at it, flexing his fingers until the trembles stopped. This was why he was still so, so careful not to antagonise his family. Walking on eggshells was better than what he knew would happen once they figured out Harry was just as defenceless as he always had been.
“If I’m going to get a letter at all,” he murmured to Erus, “I hope it’s today.”
Erus slithered underneath his fingers. Harry knew that she loved the gentle touch, but she also knew that doing this soothed him. Based on what he had read in the book Hermione had gotten him for Christmas, he had explained to Erus that this sort of action-reaction was a product of their relationship. The book called it ‘mutualism’, which Harry found was also a term used by muggles in biology. He thought it was very interesting that the muggle world and the magical world had a word that was, basically, used to describe the same situation.
Erus said she didn’t care what it was, since it made both of them feel better and that was all she wanted.
“Your bloody one and your clever one will not forget the day of your hatching,” Erus said firmly. Harry smiled at her, stroking down her smooth pliant length. They relaxed together, and in the minutes of quiet Harry flexed his magic, feeling along the edges and stretching it wider, larger. He didn't really know how to describe it - if someone asked, he supposed he would liken his magic to a large, stretchy blanket.
Abruptly, Erus snapped into a threat pose, her attention focused behind Harry. A sharp crack, like the sound of a firework but softer, sounded at the same time. Harry whirled around, wand in hand, and stared in amazement at the creature that was perched on his bed.
With large, bat-like ears and eyes that were roughly the size of tennis balls, Harry recognised the creature less for its physical appearance and more for the old, filthy pillowcase it wore. The house elf slid off the bed and offered Harry a bow that touched the tip of its long nose to the floor.
Harry lowered his wand, completely baffled by this event. He had no ideas, no suspicions. He was, simply, very confused.
“Hello,” he said, to break what was becoming a very awkward silence. The elf finally lifted its nose off the floor, fixing him with a piercing green stare. Harry thought it was male. “Can I help you?”
“Harry Potter,” squeaked the house elf. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honour it is…”
“Speaker, what is this?”
“If I’m not wrong, this is the house elf of an old family,” Harry replied, sitting carefully in his chair. He had only read a little about house elves, and what he knew was that they were essentially magically bound servants of magical households.
The elf’s mouth dropped open in awe. “Dobby has never heard a wizard speak to a snake, sir! Dobby knew you were a great wizard, sir!”
Harry smiled a little at that. “Thank you very much, Dobby. Would you like to sit? Is there -” But he couldn’t say anything else, Dobby began wailing.
Loudly.
Harry shot a look at the door, and glanced at the clock ticking loudly above his bed. Twenty to six. He had time. Even if the Dursley's heard, he didn't think they would bother to come check what was going on.
“I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said hurriedly, because he really wasn’t sure what else it could be. The elf quieted a little, enough that he could hear Harry. “But could you explain to me what I said wrong? My aunt and uncle don’t know you’re here, and I don’t think they would like it very much if they saw you.”
Dobby sniffled. “You is not offending Dobby, sir,” he explained. “Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal .”
Ah, Harry thought. “Of course,” he said. “I only know a little about house elves, I’m sorry to say. But can I ask, what are you doing here?”
“Dobby has come to tell you, sir... “ The elf’s eyes flickered to the door, to the window, and he started to wring his hands. “It is very difficult, sir. Dobby does not know where to begin.” Erus slithered closer to the house elf, flicking her tongue towards him. He watched her move, a little wary, but didn’t seem to mind being so close to a venomous reptile.
Dobby’s reluctance to tell Harry why he was here made Harry suspicious. “Your family doesn’t know that you’re here, do they?”
“Oh no, sir.” The elf shuddered. “Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir…”
Harry, who had been about to check the time again, looked back at the elf. “You punish yourself?” he asked. His voice sounded a little odd to his ears.
Dobby nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments, like if Dobby makes the tea too hot for mistress and her guests…”
Harry could feel his magic. Over the entire break, he’d been working with it. He had a much better understanding of it, and since he didn’t cast any spells, it wasn’t as though he could get in trouble for it. At least, that’s what he had hoped at the beginning, and it seemed to be holding true. Because he'd been practicing with it not too long ago, he was even more aware of it than he normally was.
Right now, his magic was seething. It was less like a blanket and more like a ball of vibrating anger. It tasted like cinnamon on his tongue. It wanted to lash out, Harry knew, but he didn't know if that counted enough for him to get in trouble or not.
“Your family does not sound very nice,” Harry commented, cool fury laced through his voice. “Will you tell me why you’re here, please?”
“Dobby has heard many great things about Harry Potter, sir. Dobby has heard Harry Potter faced the Dark Lord for a second time… And that Harry Potter escaped, again.”
“He belongs to a family that follows Voldemort, then. A shame we know so many of them,” Harry hissed to Erus. To Dobby, he replied, “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without my friends.”
“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” Dobby said, eyes wide.
Harry frowned. “I’m only telling the truth. Without my friends, I would never have done what I did.”
“Harry Potter is valiant and truthful,” Dobby said with another sniff, dabbing his eyes with his pillowcase. “But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if Dobby does have to shut his ears in the oven door later… Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts. ”