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The Return


Evie_Nitram
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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations owned by JK Rowling and publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury. No copyright infringement is intended or to be inferred.

 

Word Count: 449

 

The Return

 

Harry arrived in Privet Drive to a feeling of mixed emotions. Nothing good could possibly come from living in this house for a summer, even if it was the shortest summer he’d spend there. And yet, Dumbledore had said that it was necessary; that the protection his mother had given him in the form of his blood would only hold whilst he could still call this place his home.

 

Harry didn’t know the details of that protection, but he did know that Aunt Petunia had a secret that she wasn’t telling, and that it concerned Dumbledore.

 

It seemed a decade since he had left the house, walking at Dumbledore’s side; and longer still since he’d heard the Howler screeching at Petunia, yet the words still echoed eerily in his head ‘Remember My Last!’ What did it mean? What did Dumbledore want Petunia to remember, and what was his last? One way or another, Harry was determined he would find out over the summer.

 

He walked up the front path, being careful not to step in the flowers that bordered either side, and rang the doorbell. This was the first time he’d ever arrived here uninvited, except for the first time, when he’d been left on the doorstep, but the same man that had so recently deserted him again. A sudden swelling rose in his throat, and he swallowed it quickly as the hall light came on, and the huge shadow of Vernon Dursley came lumbering towards the door. Harry squashed the urge to run from the house, and stood firm on the doorstep.

 

“You!†Boomed Uncle Vernon, “What are you doing here?â€

“I live here!†Harry replied pointedly. Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and instead grunted and opened the door for Harry to enter the house.

 

“Who is it dear?†came Petunia’s voice from the living room, where Harry could hear the Television blaring out some home decorating programme.

“It’s Harry!â€

“Harry who, dear?â€

“Your sister’s son!â€

“Nephew… I’m your nephew!†Harry stated, the feeling of decline rushing over him like the weightless motion of a downwards rollercoaster.

 

Petunia appeared in the doorway and paused. Her usual apron was wrapped around her hands as she looked at Harry.

Suddenly, without warning, she rushed at him, and enveloped him in a hug.

“Harry, welcome home dear! We missed you!†She gushed.

Harry turned to see a huge welcoming grin on Uncle Vernon’s face, and…

 

The breath came back to him. The force of the last hex had left him gasping for air, and the vision he’d had of returning to Privet Drive faded as the face of Voldemort rose up in front of him.

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