The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. Delilah was not an exception.
She was in the Little Wingey Library, reading a book. She couldn't check anything out, but the librarians had a soft spot for her. So there she was, in a small, quiet corner reading. But she wasn't focusing much on the book.
This summer had been horrible. Delilah's friends barely could write, they all were too busy, and Harry had been... interesting. Every night he had nightmares about Cedric, so neither of them got much sleep. Every day he wandered about Little Winging after trying to listen to the Muggle news, but Voldemort wouldn't be doing anything to attract attention to himself, he wasn't that stupid. Harry wouldn't listen to her though, he seemed desperate for any news about the wizarding world, however faint. Yet he wouldn't read the full Daily Prophet, it was ridiculous.
The only good thing was Midnight, who wasn't really complaining, as she got to eat all of the dead mice Hedwig brought back from her hunts, and had been accompanying Delilah everywhere. She had even found a way to sneak into the library undetected and was resting on Delilah's shoulders.
Groaning, Delilah abandoned trying to read and put the book back on the shelf, smiling and waving to the librarian. She slowly started walking towards Number 4 Privet Drive as the sky started darkening. On the way she passed Dudley and his gang who were smoking around a corner. He was supposed to be at the Polkisses', but he never went. He actually went to smoke, deface the park, or beat up kids with his gang on the pretext of being at one of his friend's houses for tea. The Dursleys really were dull about that.
She hesitated as she made it to the front door.
"Get it over with," Midnight suggested.
Sighing, Delilah opened the door.
"Diddykins, is that you?" Aunt Petunia asked.
"No," Delilah replied before hurrying up the stairs two at a time.
Aunt Petunia went back to whatever she was doing. Delilah opened the door to her and Harry's room and sat down on her bed, rereading her advanced potions book, and adding notes on what she still wanted to try in her notebook for the hundredth time.
A while later Delilah heard the door open, but ignored it. If it was Harry he'd come up soon enough.
"BOY! COME HERE!" Uncle Vernon shrieked.
Delilah groaned, what had Harry done this time? She set the book down and headed downstairs.
Everyone was in the kitchen, so she headed there and stood in the shadows, watching as Uncle Vernon stood angrily over Harry and Aunt Petunia helped Dudley onto a chair.
"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice, sponging sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Was it — was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use — his thing?"
Slowly, Dudley nodded.
"I didn't!" Harry protested sharply, as Aunt Petunia let out a wail and Uncle Vernon raised his fists. "I didn't do anything to him, it wasn't be, it was —"
But at that moment a screech owl swooped in through the kitchen window. Narrowly missing the top of Uncle Vernon's head, it soared across the kitchen, dropped its large parchment envelope at Harry's feet, and turned gracefully, the tips of its wings just brushing the top of the fridge, then zoomed outside again and off across the garden.
"OWLS!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, the well-worn vein in his temple pulsing angrily as he slammed the kitchen window shut. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!"
But Harry ignored him and opened his letter.
Uncle Vernon continued to rant until Delilah covered her ears.
"SHUT IT!" she yelled, immediately regretting the words as he turned on her, glaring.
"This has nothing to do with you. Go upstairs," Uncle Vernon said, grinding his teeth and glaring.
Delilah glared back and moved to Harry's side, reading over his shoulder.
It was an official letter from the Ministry, basically just saying that Harry had broken the law by producing a Patronus Charm and that Ministry officials were on the way to snap his wand.
Before Delilah could say something to calm him down, trancelike, he moved to leave the kitchen.
"Where d'you think you're going?" yelled Uncle Vernon. When Harry didn't reply, he pounded across the kitchen to block the doorway into the hall. "I haven't finished with you, boy!"
"Get out of the way," said Harry quietly.
"You're going to stay here and explain how my son —"
"If you don't get out of the way I'm going to jinx you," said Harry, raising the wand.
"You can't pull that one on me!" snarled Uncle Vernon. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"
"The madhouse has chucked me out," said Harry. "So I can do whatever I like. You've got three seconds. One — two —"
A resounding CRACK filled the kitchen; Aunt Petunia screamed, Uncle Vernon yelled and ducked, but Delilah looked around for the source, as Harry wouldn't have done it, no matter how angry he was.
A dazed and ruffled-looking barn owl was sitting outside on the kitchen sill, having just collided with the closed window.
Ignoring Uncle Vernon's yell of "OWLS!" Delilah crossed and grabbed the letter, handing it to Harry. It was from Mr. Weasley.
Again she read over his shoulder, but it was just telling Harry not to do anything stupid and to stay where he was. Apparently Dumbledore was trying to sort everything out.
"Right," Harry said after a moment, "I've changed my mind, I'm staying."
He flung himself down at the kitchen and faced Dudley and Aunt Petunia. The Dursleys, and Delilah, were taken aback at his abruptness. Aunt Petunia glanced despairingly at Uncle Vernon. The vein in Uncle Vernon's purple temple was throbbing worse than ever.
"Who are all these ruddy owls from?" he growled.
"The first one was from the Ministry of Magic, expelling me," said Harry calmly. "The second one was from my friend Ron's dad, he works at the Ministry."
Delilah strained, listening for Ministry representatives approaching.
"Ministry of Magic?" bellowed Uncle Vernon. "People like you in government? Oh, this explains everything, everything, no wonder the country's going to the dogs...." Harry didn't respond, and Delilah didn't butt in. "And why have you been expelled?"
"Because I did magic."
"AHA!" roared Uncle Vernon, slamming his fist down on the top of the fridge, which sprang open; several of Dudley's low-fat snacks toppled out and burst on the floor. "So you admit it! What did you do to Dudley?"
"Nothing," said Harry, slightly less calmly. "That wasn't me —"
"Was," muttered Dudley unexpectedly, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia instantly made flapping gestures at Harry to quiet him while they both bent low over Dudley.
"Go on, son," said Uncle Vernon, "what did he do?"
"Tell us, darling," whispered Aunt Petunia.
"Pointed his wand at me," Dudley mumbled.
"Yeah, I did, but I didn't use —" Harry began angrily.
"SHUT UP!" roared Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in unison.
"Go on, son," repeated Uncle Vernon, mustache blowing about furiously.
All dark," Dudley said hoarsely, shuddering. "Everything dark. And then I h-heard... things. Inside m-my head..."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged looks of utter horror. If their least favorite thing in the world was magic, closely followed by neighbors who cheated more than they did on the hosepipe ban, people who heard voices were definitely in the bottom ten. They obviously thought Dudley was losing his mind. Delilah knew better. He and Harry had been attacked by dementors.
"What sort of things did you hear, popkin?" breathed Aunt Petunia, very white-faced and with tears in her eyes.
But Dudley seemed incapable of saying. He shuddered again and shook his large blond head, and despite the sense of numb dread that had settled on Harry since the arrival of the first owl, he felt a certain curiosity. Dementors caused a person to relive the worst moments of their life, and Delilah knew what pampered Dudley would have heard. She moved farther into the shadows, glaring at Dudley.
How come you fell over, son?" said Uncle Vernon in an unnaturally quiet voice, the kind of voice he would adopt at the bedside of a very ill person.
"T-tripped," said Dudley shakily. "And then —"
He motioned at his massive chest. Delilah understood: Dudley was remembering the clammy cold that filled the lungs as hope and happiness were sucked out of you.
"Horrible," croaked Dudley. "Cold. Really cold."
"Okay," said Uncle Vernon in a voice of forced calm, while Aunt Petunia laid an anxious hand on Dudley's forehead to feel his temperature. "What happened then, Dudders?"
"Felt . . . felt . . . felt . . . as if. . . as if . . ."
"As if you'd never be happy again," Harry supplied tonelessly.
"Yes," Dudley whispered, still trembling.
"So," said Uncle Vernon, voice restored to full and considerable volume as he straightened up. "So you put some crackpot spell on my son so he'd hear voices and believe he was — was doomed to misery, or something, did you?"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" said Harry, temper and voice rising together. "It wasn't me! It was a couple of dementors!"
"A couple of— what's this codswallop?"
"De — men — tors," said Harry slowly and clearly. "Two of them."
"And what the ruddy hell are dementors?"
"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Aunt Petunia.
The room fell silent. Everyone turned to her. How did she know that? Surely she wouldn't remember that if Delilah's mother, Lily, had mentioned it.
"How d'you know that?" Uncle Vernon asked her, astonished.
Aunt Petunia looked appalled with herself. She glanced at Uncle Vernon in fearful apology, then lowered her hand slightly to reveal her horsey teeth.
"I heard — that awful boy — telling her about them — years ago," she said jerkily.
"If you mean my mum and dad, why don't you use their names?" said Harry loudly, but Aunt Petunia ignored him. She seemed horribly flustered.
Delilah was stunned. Except for one outburst years ago, when she had yelled that Delilah's mother was a freak, she refused to mention her sister. It was astounding that she remembered a fragment of information about the wizarding world for so long, when she usually put all her energies into pretending it didn't exist.
Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, closed it again, opened it once more, shut it, then, apparently struggling to remember how to talk, opened it for a third time and croaked, "So — so — they — er — they — er — they actually exist, do they — er — dementy-whatsits?"
Aunt Petunia nodded.
Uncle Vernon looked from Aunt Petunia to Dudley to Harry as if hoping somebody was going to shout "April Fool!" When nobody did, he opened his mouth yet again, but was spared the struggle to find more words by the arrival of the third owl of the evening, which zoomed through the still-open window like a feathery cannonball and landed with a clatter on the kitchen table, causing all three of the Dursleys to jump with fright. Harry tore a second official-looking envelope from the owl's beak and ripped it open as the owl swooped back out into the night. Delilah moved to read over his shoulder again.
"Enough — effing — owls... " muttered Uncle Vernon distractedly, stomping over to the window and slamming it shut again.
This letter confirmed that Dumbledore had succeeded in making the Ministry hesitate. Instead of immediately destroying Harry's wand, there would be a hearing on August twelfth to decide.
It was preposterous. The wizarding law said that wizards could use magic in front of Muggles in life threatening situations, and in this case the Muggle already knew about magic too, so no harm was done.
"Well?" said Uncle Vernon, recalling Harry to his surroundings. "What now? Have they sentenced you to anything? Do your lot have the death penalty?" he added as a hopeful afterthought.
"I've got to go to a hearing," said Harry.
"And they'll sentence you there?"
"I suppose so."
"I won't give up hope, then," said Uncle Vernon nastily.
"Well, if that's all," said Harry, getting to his feet. He probably wanted to think or send a few letters, which was understandable.
"NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. "SIT BACK DOWN!"
"DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon. "I want to know exactly what happened to my son!"
"FINE!" yelled Harry, and in his temper, red and gold sparks shot out of the end of his wand, still clutched in his hand. All three Dursleys flinched, looking terrified. Delilah put a hand on his shoulder, which calmed him... slightly.
"Dudley and I were in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk," said Harry, speaking fast. "Dudley thought he'd be smart with me, I pulled out my wand but didn't use it. Then two dementors turned up —"
"But what ARE dementoids?" asked Uncle Vernon furiously. "What do they DO?"
"I told you — they suck all the happiness out of you," said Harry, "and if they get the chance, they kiss you —"
"Kiss you?" said Uncle Vernon, his eyes popping slightly. "Kiss you?"
"It's what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth."
Aunt Petunia uttered a soft scream. Delilah rolled her eyes.
"His soul? They didn't take — he's still got his —"
"Of course not," Delilah answered, rolling her eyes. "You'd know if they had."
"Fought 'em off, did you, son?" said Uncle Vernon loudly, with the appearance of a man struggling to bring the conversation back onto a plane he understood. "Gave 'em the old one-two, did you?"
"You can't give a dementor the old one-two," said Harry through clenched teeth.
Really, the Dursleys could be so idiotic.
"Why's he all right, then?" blustered Uncle Vernon. "Why isn't he all empty, then?"
"Because Harry used the Patronus —"
WHOOSH. With a clattering, a whirring of wings, and a soft fall of dust, a fourth owl came shooting out of the kitchen fireplace.
"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" roared Uncle Vernon, pulling great clumps of hair out of his mustache, something he hadn't been driven to in a long time. "I WILL NOT HAVE OWLS HERE, I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS, I TELL YOU!"
Midnight agreed with Uncle Vernon, she hissed threats at it and promised that she'd have the next one that entered for dinner. Hopefully there were no more, for the owls sake.
Harry immediately opened the letter. When he was done Delilah grabbed it.
Arthur's just told us what's happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do.
That was ridiculous. Did Sirius really expect Harry to stay crammed in a house with the Dursleys? It would be torture! Delilah handed the letter back to Harry, who crushed it in his fist. Overreacting much?
"— a peck, I mean, pack of owls shooting in and out of my house and I won't have it, boy, I won't —" "I can't stop the owls coming," Harry snapped.
"I want the truth about what happened tonight!" barked Uncle Vernon. "If it was demenders who hurt Dudley, how come you've been expelled? You did you-know-what, you've admitted it!"
Delilah groaned and turned to the Dursleys.
"Harry used magic to stop the dementors from kissing your son and stealing his soul. The spell he used is the only way to get rid of them."
"But what were dementoids doing in Little Whinging?" said Uncle Vernon in tones of outrage.
"Couldn't tell you," said Harry wearily. "No idea."
Apparently his anger had changed to exhaustion.
It's you," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "It's got something to do with you, boy, I know it. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? You've both got to be the only — the only —" Evidently he couldn't bring himself to say the word "wizard." "The only you-know-whats for miles."
"I don't know why they were here...."
Delilah paused. Why had the dementors come? They obviously were after Harry, but why? Could Voldemort be using them? But why would he bring unnecessary attention to himself? She sighed. She'd figure it out later.
"These demembers guard some weirdos' prison?" said Uncle Vernon.
"Yes," said Harry wearily.
"Oho! They were coming to arrest you!" said Uncle Vernon, with the triumphant air of a man reaching an unassailable conclusion. "That's it, isn't it, boy? You're on the run from the law!"
Delilah contained her snort. If Harry were on the run he'd already be apprehended, it wasn't like he was stuck in the house if he listened to Sirius.
"Of course I'm not," said Harry, shaking his head as though to scare off a fly, his mind racing now.
"Then why — ?"
"He must have sent them," said Harry quietly.
"What's that? Who must have sent them?"
"Lord Voldemort," said Harry.
Delilah smirked, noticing that the Dursleys, who flinched, winced, and squawked if they heard words like "wizard," "magic," or "wand," could hear the name of the most evil wizard of all time without the slightest tremor.
"Lord — hang on," said Uncle Vernon, his face screwed up, a look of dawning comprehension in his piggy eyes. "I've heard that name... that was the one who..."
"Murdered my parents, yes," Harry said.
"But he's gone," said Uncle Vernon impatiently, without the slightest sign that the murder of Harry's parents might be a painful topic to anybody. "That giant bloke said so. He's gone."
"He's back," said Harry heavily.
Delilah awkwardly stood. It felt strange to be talking calmly to the Dursleys about Lord Voldemort in Aunt Petunia's surgically clean kitchen, beside the top-of-the-range fridge and wide-screen television. It felt as if her two worlds were colliding in an explosion. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were asking about the wizarding world and dementors thought Little Wingey was a nice hang out.
"Back?" whispered Aunt Petunia, staring at Harry with wide eyed fright.
Harry nodded.
"Yes," Harry said, talking directly to Aunt Petunia now. "He came back a month ago. I saw him."
Why was Delilah still here?
"Hang on," said Uncle Vernon, looking from his wife to Harry and back again, apparently dazed and confused by the unprecedented understanding that seemed to have sprung up between them. "Hang on. This Lord Voldything's back, you say."
"Yes."
"The one who murdered your parents."
"Yes."
"And now he's sending dismembers after you?"
"Looks like it," said Harry.
"I see," said Uncle Vernon, looking from his white-faced wife to Harry and hitching up his trousers. He seemed to be swelling, his great purple face stretching before Harry's eyes. "Well, that settles it," he said, his shirt front straining as he inflated himself, "you can get out of this house, boy!"
"What?" said Harry.
"You heard me — OUT!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, and even Delilah, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley jumped. "OUT! OUT! I should've done it years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling, and that flying Ford Anglia — OUT! OUT! You've had it! You're history! You're not staying here if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us, if you're going the same way as your useless parents, I've had it! OUT!"
But... Harry couldn't leave, all of his letters had said as much. He'd be in even more danger that way.
"You heard me!" Uncle Vernon said, his purple face dangerously close to Harry's.
"Get going! You were all keen to leave half an hour ago! I'm right behind you! Get out and never darken our doorstep again! Why we ever kept you in the first place I don't know. Marge was right, it should have been the orphanage, we were too damn soft for our own good, thought we could squash it out of you, thought we could turn you normal, but you've been rotten from the beginning, and I've had enough — OWLS!"
The fifth owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a loud screech. Harry raised his hand as if to seize the letter, which was in a scarlet envelope, but it soared straight over him, flying directly at Aunt Petunia, who let out a scream and ducked with her arms over her face. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew straight up the chimney again, probably to escape from Midnight who had risen off of Delilah's shoulders. She quickly calmed her down, promising a nice meal later.
Harry moved to pick up the letter, but Aunt Petunia got it first.
"You can open it if you like," said Harry, "but I'll hear what it says anyway. That's a Howler."
Of course Harry would remember that after Ron had gotten one in their second year. Such fond memories.
"Let go of it, Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "Don't touch it, it could be dangerous!"
"It's addressed to me," said Aunt Petunia in a shaking voice. "It's addressed to me, Vernon, look! Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive —"
She caught her breath, horrified. The red envelope had begun to smoke.
"Open it!" Harry urged her. "Get it over with! It'll happen anyway —"
"No —" Aunt Petunia's hand was trembling. She looked wildly around the kitchen as though looking for an escape route, but too late — the envelope burst into flames.
Aunt Petunia screamed and dropped it. An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table.
"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."
Aunt Petunia looked as though she might faint. She sank into the chair beside Dudley, her face in her hands. The remains of the envelope smoldered into ash in the silence.
"What is this?" Uncle Vernon said hoarsely. "What — I don't — Petunia?"
Aunt Petunia said nothing. Dudley stared stupidly at his mother, his mouth hanging open. The silence spiraled horribly. Delilah watched, bewildered.
"Petunia, dear?" said Uncle Vernon timidly. "P-Petunia?"
She raised her head. She was still trembling. She swallowed.
"The boy — the boy will have to stay, Vernon," she said weakly.
"W-what?"
Delilah stared at her, caught off guard. The person who sent the howler must have had a pretty intimidating last, whatever that was.
"He stays," she said, getting to her feet again.
"He... but Petunia..."
"If we throw him out, the neighbors will talk," she said. She was regaining her usual brisk, snappish manner rapidly, though she was still very pale. "They'll ask awkward questions, they'll want to know where he's gone. We'll have to keep him."
Uncle Vernon was deflating like an old tire. "But Petunia, dear —" Aunt Petunia ignored him. She turned to Harry.
"You're to stay in your room," she said. "You're not to leave the house. Now get to bed."
Harry didn't move.
"Who was that Howler from?"
"Don't ask questions," Aunt Petunia snapped.
"Are you in touch with wizards?"
"I told you to get to bed!"
"What did it mean? Remember the last what?"
"Go to bed!"
"How come — ?"
"YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT, NOW GET TO BED!"
Delilah slipped upstairs, no one would notice. At least one good thing would come from Harry's house arrest, he wouldn't be able to ignore her.