The Alchemist's Cell
by SJR0301
Chapter Thirty
Miles away, at Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry Potter was sitting on the couch in the lounge and waiting for the storm to hit. Not a word had been said on the drive back to Surrey. His uncle had placed Harry's trunk in the boot of the car and Harry had set Hedwig down on the back seat next to him, whispering at her to try to soothe her anxious clucking.
He wrapped his arms about his chest again, as it was bothering him still, and he hoped wearily that they'd just get on with the yelling so he could go upstairs and lay down soon. The other three stood staring at him, but nobody said anything. Harry stared back. He hadn't a clue what to say that could put things right. After all, their worst nightmares had come true. A mad wizard had attacked and tried to kill Aunt Petunia. There was no question of that. Harry thought bitterly, what could be worse than that. Voldemort going after his family. The family that had tried so hard out of fear to keep him from the wizard world. And now their deepest fears had come true. Safety was gone, and danger followed them. Dark, dangerous magic, that couldn't be prevented, couldn't be seen, couldn't be stopped or blocked at all.
It was Dudley who broke the silence. "Why'd you do it?" he asked.
Harry frowned and echoed, "Why'd I do what?"
"Save Mum," Dudley said. "You got in his way and stopped him killing her. You can't stand her. You can't stand Dad or me. But you stood in his way."
Harry stared at him in disbelief and said, "Well, of course, I did. She's my aunt. My Mum's sister. What would I be if I stood there and let him do it? I'd be no better than him." They were still staring at him and he didn't think he could take anymore. "Look," he said. "You're the only family I've got. I don't like you and you don't like me. But you're still my family. We're the same blood. We have to stand up for each other at times like this. That's what families are supposed to do." He struggled to find some words something to bridge the chasm between them, but they still stared at him as if they didn't understand.
"It's like something ancient. There's some kind of magic in it, in the ties of a family. It's something strong and powerful. It's why you took me in when I was a baby and you really didn't want me. Because my Mum was your sister. Because it matters, in the end."
"What did you mean," Aunt Petunia said suddenly, "when you said we'd be safe in this house?" Harry looked at her and felt, as he had once before, the strangeness of it, there was no other word for it, the magic of it, that she was his Mother's sister.
"We're safe here," Harry answered, "because when you took me in, you gave me protection from Voldemort. Dumbledore explained it to me once. Voldemort can't reach me here. And my being here gives me some kind of defense against him. Because you're here, too." He shook his head, which was buzzing with exhaustion and said, "Of course I had to protect you. You've been my protection my whole life. It goes two ways, or it doesn't exist at all."
"So," Uncle Vernon said, "what happens when you leave here, to visit your friends, or to go back to school? Does this Voldemort fellow have a free rein here?"
Harry said as calmly as he could, "Don't worry. When I leave, he'll go after me. He only went after you today because he wanted to get at me. To do me harm extra before he killed me."
"His mistake then, wasn't it?" Dudley said.
Harry sighed and said, "Dudley, you are a total git. It's a wonder you get through the day without knocking yourself out." Uncle Vernon turned purple and Dudley cracked his knuckles, but neither did anything.
"That's enough," Aunt Petunia said. "And put those things away in your room. The man from Social Services is coming to visit this evening and I won't have him seeing any evidence of your freakishness."
"No problem," Harry said wearily. "I'll go up to my bedroom and pretend I don't exist." He was halfway up the stairs before it occurred to him to ask, "Why's someone coming here from there? Social Services, I mean."
"Dudley's program," Uncle Vernon said. And his face looked so purple Harry thought he'd pop a vein.
"Program?" Harry asked.
"They dropped any charges last year against him. No citations even, so long as we had a visit once a month for the year from this government chap."
Harry looked at his Aunt and Uncle and Dudley and said, "Well, I guess that's one good thing about government then, isn't it?"
"Figures," Uncle Vernon said, "Your lot are in there, aren't they. No wonder they blamed your mischief on him." Harry stopped dead and stared.
"You don't really believe that, do you? You know Dudley was the one that beat up Mark Evans, not me. You know his gang were the ones shoplifting, not me." He waited for some gesture, some word that would say that they would own up to the truth. But they said nothing, did nothing. He turned and climbed the stairs painfully and lay down on his bed in the smallest bedroom and thought, I'm safe for now. Had Dumbledore been right all those years ago, he wondered? He was safe. Did it matter if he wasn't happy?
Harry closed his eyes and tried to remember how he had felt on the train when Ginny had kissed him. He tried to remember what the first breath of air had meant when he had come out of the sea at Flamel's. He tried to remember the delight he'd felt when Annie had waved to him and hugged him at the station. He tried to hold the warm feeling he'd had when Mrs. Weasely had said he could come later in the summer. He kept Ron's face in his mind, and Hermione's and Ginny's and thought, I've got to keep them in my mind. I can bear anything, if I do.
