Disputes

I'm going out. Shouted Harry.

Again? My dear, you know I don't like seeing you hanging around outside so late. We don't know what could happen to you.

Don't worry mom, I'm not going far. I'm just going to meet some friends at the park to play a game of soccer. I promise I'll be back before it gets dark this time.

I hope so. She said, pretending to threaten him with her wooden spoon.

Harry smiled at him, more amused than frightened by his threats while Petunia watched him leave. It had been two weeks since her nephew had returned to her home for the summer holidays. Two weeks that she had spent worrying about him.

Despite her insistent requests, Harry had completely refused to tell her what had happened to him in that crazy school. He continued to stubbornly pretend that everything was fine and that nothing noteworthy had happened. But she wasn't fooled. His reaction at the station was anything but normal. Vernon thought she was making a fuss over nothing and that he was just emotional about seeing them again after such a long absence. She was tempted to believe him, especially since her child had behaved perfectly normally since then. However, her whole being screamed that something terrible had happened to him, and she wanted to know what. She didn't want to lose him either.

In desperation, yesterday, she had resigned herself to the humiliation of asking for help from the person she hated most in this world: Albus Dumbledore. She had hesitated for a long time, but secretly, this morning, she had risen at dawn to send a request for explanations to the headmaster of Hogwarts, hoping that his response would be more useful this time.

But seeing him so happy and overflowing with energy, she doubted. Was it not her who had a problem? She had blamed herself so much for not having suspected anything when Dudley had brought back a magical object that he could never have obtained on his own. Was she not falling into the opposite excess and developing excessive paranoia?

She sighed. All she could do for the moment was anxiously wait for Dumbledore's response and pretend that everything was fine so as not to worry Harry.

oOoOoOo

Harry, unaware of the inner turmoil of his adoptive mother, ran in the opposite direction of the square where he had declared he wanted to go. After about twenty minutes, the asphalt gave way to a dirt path leading to an illegal dump where a heap of miscellaneous objects in poor condition was piled up. Once there, he leaned on an old washing machine whose door had been torn off to catch his breath. Then, before he could fully recover, he took a baseball bat in both hands and began to hit an old computer screen with all his might.howling. After the second blow, the screen shattered into a thousand pieces, but he continued to hit with all his might as if the object had threatened to kill his loved ones. Once he was completely exhausted, he calmed down and shouted:

Dobby!

In a pop, a house-elf appeared wearing about ten shirts of all colors as well as a Mexican hat. Such a heap of clothing seemed all the more out of place as we were at the end of a hot summer day, but this did not even seem to surprise Harry. The elf looked with disapproval at the multiple cuts caused by the debris projections on his arms and reproached him:

Master Potter has injured himself again. This is not good.

How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me master! Harry violently berated.

Dobby is sorry, Mr. Potter, whimpered the elf.

The vulnerability that Dobby displayed at that moment immediately calmed Harry.

Sorry Dobby. I shouldn't have yelled at you.

It's nothing, Mr. Potter. Dobby is used to much worse, said the elf as he began to apply a potion to his wounds that he had taken out of one of his many pockets. A few seconds later, the wounds began to heal on their own.

No, it's not normal. What's wrong with me? Why can't I stop being angry?

Dobby doesn't know, sir. But Dobby thinks you should talk to your parents about it. Dobby has observed them a lot this summer. They would help you, sir.

I thought I told you not to approach them?! Imagine what would happen if they saw you. They hate magic.

Dobby would have cut off his head rather than disobey the orders of the great Harry Potter. The elf defended himself, on the verge of tears at having his loyalty questioned. He continued:

Dobby has known since he was very young how to observe his masters from afar. Elf magic is powerful, sir, and Dobby's has increased considerably since you freed him.

Do wizards also restrain your magic?

Dobby doesn't know. Dobby's life has changed so much since you freed him. Dobby eats as much as he wants and no longer has to use his magic to heal or keep warm. Dobby can never thank you enough.

Wizards are monsters.

The great Harry Potter is a wizard and he is not a monster.

Oh yes, then explain to me what I just did there? Why do I always break everything? Why do I keep wanting to scream and hit? Why do I sometimes feel an anger that isn't mine and at other times, I want to scream? I'm tired of having to pretend that everything is fine or that dad's remarks about wizards don't affect me. Sometimes, at night, I hear a voice whispering to me that they will never accept me as I am and that I should leave. Am I going crazy?

Dobby doesn't know, sir. But Dobby knows that talking to them about it would do him more good than coming here. Mr. Potter doesn't belong here. Said the elf, gesturing with his hands at the heap of all kinds of rubbish surrounding them.

I have nothing great. Harry said softly, but admitting that the elf was probably right.

Only, he couldn't bring himself to talk to them. What if the voice was right and they rejected him in turn? He sat down and spent some time talking with Dobby. Then, when the sun began to set, he resolved to go home. At the end of the school year, he dreamed of returning home, but now that he was there, he felt trapped. In fact, what he wanted was to fly as fast as possible on his broom until he was exhausted. But upon his return, the Dursleys had disgustedly locked his trunk and school things in the cupboard under the stairs. He didn't want to face their reactions if he tried to propose an activity involving magic. At this thought, he felt a surge of rage against their intolerance. But he forced himself to suppress it by taking deep breaths. He violently kicked a glass bottle that had been left there, causing it to fly and shatter into a thousand pieces against the rusty carcass of a car. For some reason he didn't understand, breaking things helped him calm down.

Once he arrived at the entrance of the city, he asked Dobby to leave. Harry did not know where the house-elf lived when he was not with him. He doubted that even a free and extremely well-paid elf could rent a room on Diagon Alley. But he had not dared to ask. The elf was struggling to defend his newly acquired freedom, and Harry did not want to risk him thinking he had to account for what he did in his free time. But it did not worry him much, as Dobby seemed to be thriving in his new life. He was visibly much happier and healthier than he was two weeks ago.

After a few minutes of walking, he arrived at the entrance of the Dursleys' house. The sun was almost set and the streetlights had already turned on, but it was not yet night. So it was with great surprise that he received his mother's reproachful cries:

Where did you go again?

I told you on the football field.

Do not lie to your mother, my boy. We checked and you were not there. Intervened Vernon, already red with anger.

Yes, well at some point, I got fed up and I went somewhere else. I still have the right to go where I want. I'm not a child anymore.

Not in that tone with me, my boy. And you could be 80 years old and it wouldn't be an excuse to lie to us so brazenly. None of your friends saw you there. And besides, none of them have seen you all summer. What are you up to now?

You're spying on me!

We trusted you. Clearly, we were wrong. They announced on TV that a dangerous criminal named Sirius Black had just escaped. All the parents called their children back, and you were the only one who was missing. Because of you, your mother was worried sick. We called everyone we knew, but no one knew where you were. We thought we had lost you too. That one of those abnormalities had targeted us again.

Yes, well, it's okay, everything is fine. Abnormality is fed up and is going to bed. He said, pushing them roughly to get to the stairs leading to his room. As soon as he passed the door to his room, he heard his adoptive father's voice shout:

You are grounded for a week. Don't even try to leave your room before you apologize and tell us the truth.

As soon as he calmed down, he regretted his reaction, and not only because he would no longer be able to vent his anger in secret for a long week. TheThe next day, it was a very determined Harry who went down to the living room to apologize and tell his parents the whole truth.

However, he was greeted by a red-eyed Petunia holding a thin parchment with the Hogwarts crest in her hand. The headmaster's response had arrived that morning.

Why didn't you tell me anything? She shouted.

By reflex, Harry automatically went on the defensive and a completely counterproductive argument ensued.

oOoOoOo

From that day on, the atmosphere at 4 Privet Drive became tense. The Dursleys could only watch helplessly as Harry withdrew into himself and became increasingly irritable. Petunia and Vernon, convinced it was the aftermath of the horrible events he had experienced during the year he spent with those lunatics, initially thought to give him some space.

But this strategy seemed counterproductive, and Vernon had never been a patient man. Moreover, he had always been convinced that teenagers needed strict discipline to avoid becoming delinquents. And there was no way he would let his son go down the wrong path because of what those abnormalities had put him through. So he began to systematically reprimand him for the slightest misstep, hoping to make him react. Which inevitably happened. Very quickly, violent arguments punctuated life at 4 Privet Drive. Petunia almost regretted having written that letter to Dumbledore. It had only worsened the situation. Clearly, that old lunatic was only good at causing them problems.

If she had been more attentive, she would have noticed that Harry's behavior deterioration had occurred not after Vernon started trying to set him on the right path, but after watching a TV news report stating that Sirius Black had been seen in the neighboring area and seemed to be heading towards London.

Things continued like this until the day when, during yet another argument:

I'm fed up with you and your cheap prejudices! Whatever I do is never good enough. I've never belonged here. I never want to see you again! shouted Harry on the doorstep of the Dursleys' house.

Before any of the Dursleys could react, Harry slammed the door and left, dragging his heavy trunk and Scabbers' cage (who was loudly expressing his disapproval at the idea of leaving).

Dobby! Cried Harry.

A house-elf dressed in a patchwork of eclectic, flashy-colored clothing appeared.

Master Potter called? Master Potter is crying? Is Master Potter okay?

I am not your master. Can you take me, please?

Where does Master Potter want to go?

Anywhere as long as it's far from here. And don't call me master.

Yes but(..). Mr. Potter.

Before Apparating, Harry reread the article from the newspaper that he had cut out and put in his pocket last night with Black's portrait. If Voldemort's right-hand man, killer of dozens of Muggles and godfather of the survivor, was heading towards Little Whinging, it was best for everyone that he leave the place as quickly as possible.