The prisoners, the girl all in one Black house
Petunia Dursley walked the length of the cell again for the hundredth time since she had woken up that day. The trays from dinner last night were still there, the food untouched. As it had been for the past few weeks. Somehow neither of them had perished-Petunia suspected they must have been fed during the night.
Vernon was pressed against the back wall, small watery eyes darting back and forth, like a wounded animal. He had been that way since the previous full moon, when those people let that werewolf in the cell with them. Vernon hadn’t been the same since.
Dudley and Piers stayed huddled together, voices hushed, their eyes wide. They hadn’t moved more than a few spaces away from each other. Dudley had lost some weight. Petunia swore if she got out, she would prepare a feast for her son and husband. Dissatisfied with her walk, she returned to her position near Vernon, trying to placate him with gentle touches. Vernon cowered away from her touch, whimpering like an animal. Petunia pulled her hand back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.
They’d been in this cell for weeks, maybe months-she’d lost count. At first, she’d been angry, especially at that brat. Potter had been so ungrateful! This certainly had Potter written all over it.
Probably had his freaky friends do this! Petunia had been sure of it. There had been no other answer in her mind. Even Dudley had loudly stated it when they’d first arrived, promising to teach that freak some respect.
Vernon agreed wholeheartedly and even Piers took delight in imagining his own dealings with Potter. Petunia simply sniffed and contemplated all the chores she’d have ready for that boy. How dare he abandon his own family for the streets?!
Petunia had played the part, distressed aunt and the neighborhood had searched high and low for the boy. When the authorities came, Petunia was ready-the cupboard under the stairs was scrubbed clean and any nuisances of the boy were buried in the rose garden. Dudley’s second bedroom was fashioned into the boy’s room. It was painted a lowly shade of blue with gray hanging and a patterned bedspread. She’s even given the boy two pillows!
When three months had passed, Petunia grew angry, determined to find him and drag him back. The chores were piling up and her poor Dudley had started developing calluses from helping her. Her baby should always have smooth hands. It’s why they had the boy, why they put up with him and his freakish ways. Vernon and Petunia scoured the whole street of Privet Drive-they’d even rang poor Arabella Fig’s door.
She’d always had a soft spot for the boy. When they’d searched the Fig house for any trace of the boy and found none except Vernon’s allergies to cats, they left in a huff.
They expanded their search to the next neighborhood and the one after that and then another one. They’d nearly reached London and still no sign of the boy.
Ten months later and even the authorities had abandoned the search. Marge-Vernon’s sister-had offered her dog to locate the boy’s scent. Vernon had spent hours in the woods with the dog, circling a singular spot and insisting the boy was there. Vernon had nearly dragged the dog by his scruff, cursing at the stupid animal all the way.
He could not understand why his sister-lovely, plump and headstrong Dursley woman insisted on these animals. “Should’ve gotten married,” he muttered indigently. He’d left the dog with his sister and turned to his car and left. Vernon figured the little brat must’ve stolen money and possibly was hiding in the city.
When he found him, Harry Potter would pay. Vernon Dursley swore that he’d make the little brat bleed for putting them through this unnecessary hardship. Vernon saw how his family was, exhausted all day from the mental stress of school and work only to come home to even more work.
Dudley had to stop his wrestling. Petunia-his lovely perfect wife-no longer had time to herself, nor to enjoy her own son or her husband. Petunia had grown thinner, her skin was frail and her head seemed heavier somehow. Vernon often thought that his wife’s lovely neck would one day snap under the weight of her stress. Vernon himself was not immune to the changes; he went to work, and on the drive, would take the occasional glance for any sign of the boy. At work, he was distracted and although at first, the company had understood, Vernon was now one write up away from his overall dismissal.
Vernon could no longer enjoy a relaxing after work cocktail at the pub with his co-workers. He left immediately at five and drove straight home for his own set of chores.
Vernon swore he’d make the boy pay.
It had to be the boy’s fault-Vernon knew it could be no one else’s. The day had been perfect; Petunia and he had brought tickets to the London Zoo. The sun was bright and shining and the day was warm. They’d gone to see the monkeys, the lions and the birds. They’d left the reptiles for last and got cold drinks to bear the stifling humidity of the enclosure. The London Zoo was boasting a rare treat-a massive snake nearly three times the size of its natural counterparts. It was a female and very enchanting indeed.
Vernon wished he had taken the family and left. Dudley and Piers had been in awe of the creature. Her darling wife was a mere few feet away, holding her handkerchief to his nose. It did smell, but Vernon wanted to make the day special. For Dudley, for Petunia, for their family.
He had a surprise for his darling wife later in the day. He’d gotten a raise, more than enough to hire a maid a few times a week. Their family would be back to normal.
Vernon didn’t know why he didn’t notice it until later, hours later. The people started leaving en masse; but neither Dudley nor Piers was ready to leave. They wanted the bloody snake to move, to do something! Vernon tried to rap the glass a few times, but the snake simply looked bored.
Looked bored? Vernon recalled a very faint outline of a cat looking bored once a very long time ago, but it vanished from his mind as quickly as it came.
He didn’t remember getting knocked out or his wife’s screams. He could recall if Dudley or Piers made any noise at all. In fact, Vernon Dursley’s memory of the day was so utterly fuzzy it was useless.
It was hours later that they awoke to their current cell.
Vernon was sure this was the boy’s fault.
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Hermoine Granger twisted a lock of hair round her forefinger and pulled, as her nose scrunched up in disdain. She placed the book aside to the every growing pile of useless and outdated. Interlocking her fingers together, she stretched her arms over her head until she heard the wonderful pops down her spine. Dissatisfied with her current lack of research, she decided to retire for lunch.
Hopefully that horrid elf Kreacher wasn’t around. Hermoine had found a toenail in her tea just yesterday and had decided if she were going to eat, she’d make it herself.
She was blessed to find the kitchen Kreacher free and there was only Fenrir and Bellatrix occupying it. She quickly made her way to the various tins of tea, selecting a highly caffeinated one. She felt she would not sleep tonight. Hermoine knew she was close, she simply knew it. It was a matter of finding the correct book.
Bellatrix snickered-she knew that look well. It was the patented “Granger girly won’t stop researching”. She’d had it last week when she’d collapsed into her plate and started snoring at the dinner table. Kreacher had complained but Fenrir simply hauled upstairs and into her bed, after licking the remnants of food off her face. When she finally awoke, Hermoine had been summoned and instructed to take breaks and eat something. The library was not going to be burned down.
Hermoine had the decent to flush bright red and went to rest for the remainder of the day. She hadn’t pulled anything like that again.
‘’First break of the day?’’ Bellatrix asked, amusement in her voice as she checked her nails for any imperfection. She was satisfied when there were none.
“Yes,” she stood on her tiptoes reaching for the tin of biscuits she knew Rabastan liked. She finally grazed the tin with her fingers and pulled it down, grabbing a sleeve of them. “I think I finally have a breakthrough, but the books are a bit dated.”
Fenrir barked a laugh, “Most purebloods have centuries of old books so dated isn’t even a question!”
Hermoine chuckled as she fixed her tea and levitated the tray in front of her. She left that kitchen with a wave and a cheery farewell.
‘’Does the wee doggie want the little muggle born?’’ Bellatrix cackled, mirth shining in her eyes. Fenrir had the decency to not answer, before stalking out of the kitchen, intent on hunting for some fresh meat. (It had nothing to do with the praises Hermoine had sang about the fresh rabbit stew he’d made last week.) Bellatrix finished her own lunch and left the kitchen, intent on her current interrogation of the putrid mess of flesh in the dungeons below.
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Bellatrix knew she was known as the mad sister of the Black family. She crafted the persona herself. Narcissa had taken up the mantle of doting socialite while Andromeda had taken the mantle of the black sheep. Every Black woman had a role to play and they played it well. Bellatrix especially enjoyed her role of torturer.
The muggles had proven immensely entertaining indeed, more so when she’d learned exactly what they had done to poor little Harry. Bellatrix didn’t hate the kid, quite the contrary. She’d jumped for joy when she learned how he’d escaped and with who! The muggles had been a bonus, when they’d learned they’d been the ones to abuse Harry.
It had been all too poetic.
She’d had the grace to descend down to the dungeons almost soundlessly, save for the swish of her robes. The thin woman gasped when she heard the swish of the fabric, pressing herself against the bars, intention in her eyes. Bellatrix was almost impressed-she’d done this before.
‘’Please, you have to let my son go! He’s just a child! PLEAS-’’
A bluish light struck the woman squarely in her chest, sending her against the back wall. The males cowered. The fat teenager buried his head as best he could. Bellatrix came up to the bars, face screwed in pain, teeth gnashing together in a feral manical grin. She was a wild woman. A wild witch, the madness of the Black family consoladated into one single form.
‘’You’re begging for his life?! Why is your husband not begging for you and your son?! You muggles make me sick!’’
‘’YOU HAVE TO HELP ME! Don’t you have a heart?!’’
‘’I haven’t had a heart since you people took my chances of a child away. I have no heart for stupid worhtless muggles who harm children.’’
At this, Vernon woke from his self imposed stupor and rose himself up to his full height. He stomped over to the quarreling women, deliberately pushing Petunia back and meeting the vile witch head on.
‘’Leave my wi-’’
‘’Oh Now you grow a pair?! You’re a real piece of work, Dursley! Abusing a child-a magical one at that! Look at you, locked in a cage like a filthy animal!’’
‘’How dare-’’
‘’How dare I?! Ohh you’re all so high and mighty, aren’t you? How dare you stand there, when you were asked to care for one child?! Just one!”
Vernon went to speak, but Bellatrix cut him off with a glare and fierce swish of her wand. Her magick arched-dark and violent-throwing the overweight man straight into the wall, rendering him unconscious. Bellatrix turned on her heel, stomping up the stairs. She ignored their pleas and focused on leaving them there to rot.
It was already degrading having to sustain them on nutrition potions at night. Voldemort had wanted to keep them alive until they knew the true extent of the abuse. So far, they hadn’t gotten much information due to the mental protections the family had in place.
Bellatrix had sworn it was blood magick of some kind of another, a latent protection despite Harry’s rejection of his so-called family. She knew there was something else at play here.
She knew logically, many of the older families had extended protection to the branch families. It was usually placed on a child at birth as a safeguard should anything happen to the parents. It was not a branch of magick that studied now, but any pureblood worth their weight in galleons knew that Lily Potter’s act of love was nothing more than the Potter family magick acting up.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, if it was an act of motherly love, every child would be a prophecy child.
She knew that the Wizarding World needed someone to look up to. If only, they could see that Harry was not a child who wanted followers. Last she’d heard, the kid had really just wanted to finish his schooling in peace. It was anyone’s guess what he would do with his life.
He didn’t fly and didn’t play quidditch. He was masterful at green magick but had no vested interest in herbology. He was quicker to physically fight than rely on his own magick and carried boomerangs and eggs around like lollies. According to Severus, he had a knack for potions and defense and like any other student, fell asleep in history. The kid didn’t even use an owl. Hedwig was temperamental and hated nearly everyone.
Frankly, Bellatrix was enjoying the kid a bit much. She couldn’t wait to meet the itty bitty Bunny!
—————————————————————
Petunia had never known fear, not like this. She wanted this nightmare to be over. She wanted her home back, her safety. She’d balled her thin hands into fists, tears pricking at the corners.
He’d promised they’d be safe! They both had! All they had to do was break the boy! It had been all but guaranteed until the boy had run!
You could use it, you know?
Petunia spun around, the dungeons were empty as far as she could see. Vernon was still unconscious and at some point, Piers and Dudley were asleep.
She knew that voice, even if she hadn’t heard it in years. She knew what it was talking about, but Petunia had sworn never to do so. Not after what she had seen.
I’ll get you out of there. I always keep my promises.
She shook, that voice always had that strangest effect on her. She almost wished she could fall asleep, if only to never hear it again.
I can make that happen.
“Leave me alone!”
As you wish, Tuny. You were always my favorite, you know
Petunia knew it had left when the oppressive feeling disappeared altogether. She wasn’t afraid of these people; but she was terrified of the voice.
So very scared indeed.
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“Psst! Pssst! Lily, wake up!”
There was a groan and a shuffle of covers until a mop of bright red hair appeared. The curtain of red shook itself revealing a young pale sleepy face. She sniffled once before focusing her eyes enough on her sister.
“Whasamatter, Tun’?”
Petunia bit her lip, wondering if Lily would make fun of her again, but knew better. They were young enough that scary things in the dark would still be scary and acceptable. Gripping her covers to her thin body, Petunia swayed back and forth, unable to get the words out.
Lily smiled, and moved her own covers back, shuffling back as she did. Once the space was clear, Lily nodded and waited. Petunia stood on her bed and took a deep breath, bending her legs and taking a long jump right on to the occupied space Lily had made. Without another word, Lily swung the covers over her sister, enclosing them in its warmth.
Petunia smiled in relief and hugged her sister closely.
“Goodnight, Lily.”
“Nighty night, Tun’”