"It's no use anyway; it's completely illegible," Snape all but snarled.
Harry thought that was a fine comment coming from that quarter. All that kept some first-years from crying when they got their Potions essays back was that fact that half the comments were written in a long curling scrawl that nobody in his right mind could hope to read. Just as well. After you'd seen If you truly believe that fermented yew sap is not poisonous, I suggest you prepare some and drink it. Do be sure to share it with your fellow Gryffindors, written in the margin, you really didn't need to know what the other comments might say.
Snape's snarl hadn't been loud by any means, but it had been enough to wake up Dudley.
The boy stretched out his arms, mumbling something, and then his head came up, wobbling with exhaustion. He stared at Harry, and blinked several times.
For his part, Harry couldn't help but stare back. Dudley looked nearly as ill as Petunia, and though he didn't have that wasted away look his mother bore, he had definitely lost weight. A lot of weight.
Of course Dudley was still grotesquely fat, but still, it was a marked improvement. Strangely enough, though, the family hadn't bought him any new clothes to fit him better. Dudley's shirt and pants were rolled up just like Harry's were.
Thinking quickly, Harry made sure his wand was fully tucked up his sleeve. Then he stood, and went over to his cousin, and knelt down on one knee beside his chair. But not to beg. He wasn't going to beg, no matter what Snape had to say on the matter. It wasn't pride stopping him, though, it was just reality. If the Dursleys didn't want to help him, then they wouldn't, it was as simple as that. Begging wouldn't change matters. He'd learned that much before he'd turned five, and he hadn't begged since. Not once.
In any case, it was too soon to talk about the wards. That wasn't the kind of thing he could just come out with. He'd have to figure out how to ease into the whole subject, how to not make it sound completely crass and self-centred to worry about himself when Aunt Petunia was lying there so ill.
Kneeling now . . . it just seemed simpler than dragging his chair over. It seemed less intrusive too, and more respectful of the atmosphere in the hospital room, of Dudley's own obvious grief.
"Hallo Harry," his cousin finally groaned, still disoriented enough to state the obvious. "You came."
As Harry nodded, Vernon Dursley began to stir, and he had more to say on that particular topic. A great deal more, as it turned out.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Seven: Uncle Vernon
~
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 7: Uncle Vernon
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=7
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Seven: Uncle Vernon
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Uncle Vernon cracked open first one eye, then the other, and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, saved his talking until he was fully awake. Even then, all he said at first was, "Took you long enough, boy."
Harry flushed, unwilling to admit that he'd ignored the letter. Instead, his glance passing over Aunt Petunia again, he quietly murmured, "How long has she been . . . er, how long has she had . . .?"
Uncle Vernon stared at him like he'd grown six heads overnight. "How long?" he gasped, lumbering to his feet and marching over to tower over his nephew. "How long, indeed! Are you blind and deaf as well as just plain stupid? You sound as though you don't even know what ails her!"
"But I don't," Harry quietly pointed out, rising to his own feet. Some part of him was aware of Snape getting up, too, but that only made the sensation of being threatened even worse. Bit stupid, really; he knew Snape was there to protect him. He even knew that Snape had saved his life, way back in first year.
Trouble was, Snape had never once acted like he was glad he'd saved Harry at all. In fact, Harry suspected he deeply regretted it. Or would, if not for the prophecy. Yeah, that awful prophecy did make Harry sort of necessary to the wizarding world, but it still didn't mean Snape was happy Harry hadn't fallen to his death.
"You don't know what's wrong with her, you say?" Vernon spat. "I suppose you're going to claim now that you don't remember this past summer at all!"
"I remember that we stayed out of each other's way for once," Harry returned in level tones. He thought better than to add that it had been his best summer yet.
"Hmph. Well, there is that, I suppose," Vernon admitted, rubbing a fat hand against the back of his neck in a seesawing motion. A series of loud creaking noises ensued as he stretched his neck first one way, then the other. "Maybe I didn't tell you at that. We were all of us just so upset, and we didn't know what you might take it into your head to do if you knew Petunia was under the weather. Don't think I've forgotten Dudley and the python, or the damned car that broke the bars off your window, let alone the time you blew up your aunt or when your stupid friends messed with Dudley's tongue or you summoned demons to kill him--" For a moment, he appeared to have lost his train of thought.
One more glance in Harry's direction gave Vernon renewed focus, though, because he'd finally noticed Snape. "Who's this, then?" he snarled, grabbing his nephew by the forearm and roughly shaking him. His voice became a low, furious growl. "I told you, I was clear as day, no freaks, you worthless little snot! Just seeing you will probably be the end of poor Petunia, the shape she's in, but it better not be, you hear me? 'Cause you'll be next, boy. Don't think I don't mean it!"
Harry saw Snape stiffen slightly, but all he did in reaction was extend a hand in greeting. "This is Remus Lupin, Uncle Vernon," he rushed to say, wiggling his arm a bit until it was let go. "And he's not . . . well, he's not like me, all right? He's a Muggle. I mean . . . he's a normal person."
"Didn't know there were any normal folk up at that school of his," Vernon muttered suspiciously, though he did take the other man's hand and pump it up and down as though testing Snape's mettle.
"He's a full professor," Harry interjected, knowing that his uncle had a tendency to respect titles. "Of, er . . ." Here he lowered his voice a bit and launched into his plan. "They call it Muggle Studies. See, he's supposed to help people like me learn to act, er . . . less weird. That's actually a huge part of the curriculum at my school," he added, deciding that he might as well lay it on thick. The whole idea here, after all, was to placate the Dursleys. Oh yeah, and putting on a bit of a contrite expression wouldn't come amiss, either. Harry opened his eyes wide and let his lips quiver a little as he went on, "See, they know we're all . . . well, they know that kids like me need help. Er, controlling ourselves, like with Aunt Marge. I'm loads better now, thanks to Professor Lupin. I'm really, really sorry I've been so awful, Uncle Vernon."
Remus' clothing rustled beside him. Harry glanced swiftly to the side and noticed Snape staring fixedly into Vernon's eyes. Uh-oh . . . Legilimency, and without a wand. It didn't last long, though, so Harry wasn't sure how much Snape might have learned.