Chapter 3
A month ago, life was perfect-he‘d just gotten a promotion at work, Dudley was poised to start up at his old school, and the freak practically waited on him hand and foot.
Now, he was stuck in a smelly prison, eating the most disgusting food, and he didn’t know of he’d ever see Dudders again.
And it was all that freak’s fault. Whenever thoughts of his freaky nephew entered his mind, a white hot anger consumed him from head to toe.
Two weeks into their sentance, a fellow inmate found out that they were arrested because of “child abuse”, (not that he believed that’s what they did) and the news spread like wildfire.
That week ended on a particularly sour note, when he and Petunia were surrounded by Gideon Hughes-who turned out to be at the top of the inmate food chain at London Gate prison-and all of his best mates.
Vernon came out of the fight relatively unscathed, thanks to his intimidating stature and build, but Petunia, who was maybe 5’10 and skinny as a bean pole, was beaten half to death.
She was whisked away to a hospital by two of the guards and had emergency surgery.
It was nearing September now, and the guards hadn’t said much of anything. No tantrum or fight ever got him anything but thrown into temporary solitary confinement.
It lengthened his sentence some, when the fights got bad enough, but he didn’t care.
”Dursley?”
Two guards-one small, with dark hair and green eyes, the other rather large, with blonde hair and blue eyes-stood in front of his cell, standing stick straight, stoic expression on their faces. It was always hard to tell whether their sudden presence was about to be a good thing or a bad thing. He never really knew whether he wanted to briefly leave this cell, knowing he’d have to come back to it, or stay there.
“Yeah?”
The short, skinny one spoke like he was reading from a page. Short, clipped, uncaring. “We’ve been sent here to inform you that due to the complications of her injuries, your wife Petunia Dursley neè Evans, has died.”
As the men turned to go, tears filled his eyes. It felt like something hard slammed into his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Distantly, he recalled the feeling of his back hitting the far wall, and with that, the weight lifted from his chest.
He pulled himself up, facing the wall and sobbed for a long time. The knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to go to Petunia’s funeral made it so much harder.
After a while, he felt…nothing. His chest felt hollow and he was acutely aware of the heaviness of his limbs. Then out of nowhere, the searing white hot anger returned with a vengeance, his entire body turning red with the force of it.
This was that little freak’s fault! If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t be here, his wife wouldn’t have been here, they would never have been sent to a place full of people who wanted them dead. People who….who…
Vernon opened his eyes, a sudden plan in mind.
Tomorrow, he would be able to leave this cell, and go off to the lunch room, or to the courtyard, or take part in daily activities….
Anywhere he went, he would come across Gideon and his bunch. And he would be ready to pay them back for their gift to Petunia.
— —
The next morning came quickly. As usual, two guards came to collect him. Today’s were both female and rather rough looking, with red hair and lots of muscles.
That day’s breakfast appeared to be porridge and eggs, though it looked more like goop and runny soup. He inconspicuously entered the line as the two guards walked to the other end of the lunchroom, socializing with the others who were already there.
“Well, well, well.”
Perfect! Hughes happened to be the one in front of him in line. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
“Another day without your little lady, I see.”
Vernon didn’t think the shorter man would be able to get under his skin so quickly, but with that one statement, he saw red. He roared in anger, practically jumping on the man, punching and kicking the way he and his friends did to Petunia.
Though he towered over Gideon in both height and weight, the idiot was fast, avoiding a few of the more dangerously placed blows, even if the weaker ones still landed.
Within the next minute, at least a dozen of the inmates had abandoned their food, surrounding them in a circle, and chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
A couple of the other guys jumped in, attempting to help their friend. He landed a swift kick at one’s chest and another’s groin, sending them careening to the ground, even while holding Gideon’s hair.
He could hear the guards finally responding to the commotion, the circle making it hard for them to get through. Still, he had to act quickly.
He forcefully pulled the little twat backwards, pinning his arms behind his back. He wrapped one arm around the man’s neck and began to squeeze with all his might.
He saw the life leave Hughes’ eyes before the just guards made it over, pulling Vernon away from another guy just as they began to quarrel.
A whistle blew and the circle broke, sending most of the prisoners back to their food. He and the other guys apart of the fight were dragged back out of the room and unceremoniously thrown back in their cells.
Vernon sighed, collapsing onto his cot. He was probably going to get a longer prison sentence for killing a man. Oh well.
Along the bottom of the wall, near his cot, he found a little round hole, perfect for a brief glimpse of the outside world. All he could see was the dead grass and an old, rusty chain link fence that surrounded the prison.
A corner of that fence was torn up, he thought suddenly, his whole body on alert now. He lept up from the bed, pounding furiously at the back wall, knowing that the guards wouldn’t pay much attention to the noise until it was much too late.
When cracks started to appear, Vernon grinned devilishly.
That little freak deserved to pay.
— —
Severus rose from the creaky bench he’d been perched on, groaning as he did. Another meeting ended. Dumbledore was acting weird, as usual. He watched the old man warily, knowing he was going to try to speak to Harry again. Sure enough, the Wizard went through the kitchen, no doubt heading for the stairs.
He made to follow, needing to speak to the boy anyway.
“Where are you going, Headmaster?” Dumbledore turned, surprised to see anyone else in the otherwise empty kitchen.
“Off to find Mr. Potter, of course.”
“I daresay he wouldn’t want to see you. I do need to speak him myself, so I can ask and see if he would be perfectly willing to speak to you?”
“What would you need to see the boy about, Severus?”
“Something of his was left at the Dursley’s home.” He lied smoothly. The Potions Master moved quickly past Dumbledore, knowing Potter was likely in his room with the other children in the house.
“We can see him together, then.” Dumbledore said cheerily. “The matter I wish to speak about is rather private, so of course you’ll have to give us a moment.”
He ignored him, knowing he wouldn’t let the dark haired teen be alone with the meddlesome fool.
“Mr. Potter?”
The door opened, and a pair of green eyes stared back at him, brightening as he grinned.
“Profess-“ His face darkened as he caught sight of Dumbledore behind him. “What’s the Headmaster doing here?”
“My dear boy, if I could please have a moment of your time?”
“I am not your boy, and I have no wish to speak to you.” The air suddenly smelled of ozone as Potter’s magic crackled in the air, send a picture to the ground.
“Harry-“
“He said, headmaster, that doesn’t want to speak to you. Maybe he will some other time, or maybe he won’t at all. That’s his choice, not yours, so I think you should leave”
Severus was not at all surprised to suddenly see the bushy brown haired teen there. He knew the redhead was somewhere in the room not far behind them.
Amazingly, Dumbledore left without much more of a fight, probably because of the boy’s wildly flaring magic, or possibly because it was never a good idea to cross the young witch who was awfully protective of the Potter boy.
Potter’s green eyes brightened once more as they turned back to Severus, and against all odds, he found himself actually smiling at the boy.
“Would you permit yourself to speak to me?”
“Of course, sir.” He grinned. He opened the door wider, revealing the other Weasley boy his age to be sitting on the large bed, though he stood up at Potter’s answer.
“Do you want us to stay or go, Harry?” Granger asked.
Regardless of how he felt about Gryffindors, or children in general, the loyalty his friends showed the boy was truly admirable. It made Snape grin (but only a little bit).
He took a moment to read Severus’ face, probably trying to decipher whether whatever he had to say would be welcome or not.
It seemed like he decided that he had bad news, because he asked them to stay, with a slight frown on his face. Weasley sat back down again, with the witch next to him. She scooted over slightly, making room for her other friend in the middle.
“I heard from my male colleague this afternoon.”
The Potions Professor began heavily, seating himself across from them. “Petunia Dursley was attacked by other prisoners in the facility and later passed away at the hospital.”
“Oh.” Potter said in a small voice, his eyes wide. The girl gasped quietly, throwing her arms around him comfortingly. Weasley placed a hand on his solder, squeezing gently.
“I know your relatives do not and never have felt like family to you. They treated you horrendously; it is okay if you don’t know what to feel concerning your aunt’s death.”
“Thank you, sir.”
It was quiet for a spell, as he wanted the child to have the ability to grieve this news as much as possible before he dropped the next bomb.
“Was that all, sir?” He asked finally, voice quiet.
“No. Your uncle killed one of the men who committed the attack and gravely injured another.”
“Blimey.” Weasley muttered.
“Always knew he would end up killing someone someday.” Potter muttered darkly. “Somehow, I always thought it would be me.”
Taken aback at the blunt statement, he nonetheless trudged on, wanting to get the words out. “Vernon Dursley later escaped from the facility and is now on the run.”
“Perhaps it will be me.” The boy looked like he regretted the dark humor the moment the words left his mouth; they only seemed to make Granger squeeze harder, and the other boy to choke on his spit.
“Mate, he’d have to go through us before we’d ever let that happen!”
“And we have something he doesn’t have-magic!”
Potter smiled softly at her words. “Magic isn’t everything, you know that as well as I do, Mione. And I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school, which is certainly where I’d run into him.”
“If that happens.” Weasley reminded helpfully.
Their loyalty was truly inspiring. He’d never seen a friendship this strong.
“And as it happens, Mr. Potter, you are allowed to do magic outside of school in cases once self defense, as that would be.”
Potter widened his eyes again, looking like something had just occurred to him. “So if I’d used magic against the dementor, I would have been fine?”
“You should have been, yes, though I personally suspect that the dementor was sent to you in the hope that you would get in a lot of trouble with the Ministry, probably even expelled.”
“Blimey,” Weasley muttered again.
“Well that explains a lot,” He muttered darkly.
“Thank you for telling me, Professor.”
“You’re most welcome, Mr. Potter.” He stood, recognizing it for the dismissal it was. “Good night Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley.”
The two of them looked surprised to be addressed. “See you, Professor.”