Harry Potter and The Secrets he Kept

Chapter 3

Harry stared out the window of the car on the drive home from Kings Cross. Dudley was trying to keep as far away from him as he could, and Harry was perfectly fine with that.

At last they pulled into the driveway of number four.

Harry got out of the car, and as soon as Uncle Vernon opened the boot, he pulled out his trunk and owl cage.

He had decided to let Hedwig fly home from London. It was safer for her than being in the Dursleys' presence for even a minute.

Harry followed the other four into the house, and was about to climb the stairs to his room when Vernon said something.

"Boy, your room isn't up there anymore."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "It isn't?"

Vernon smiled gleefully. "No, it's back to the cupboard with you! Our Dudley has grown so much that he is in need of a bigger bed, so we've decided to turn his second bedroom into a lounge for him to make up for the lack of floor space in his main room."

Harry suddenly had a positively Slytherin idea. "Okay, Uncle Vernon, but I don't think my godfather will be happy when I tell him about it."

"What godfather? You haven't got a godfather, Potter," Dudley said.

"Yes, I do. He just got out of prison for murder," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Petunia turned gray.

"You won't tell him a damn thing, Boy," Vernon hissed, his face an odd shade of puce. He grabbed Harry's arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

Harry glared up at his uncle. "Too bad. He's planning on meeting me at the park whenever he can. If I'm not there, or if I'm hurt, you'll have a lot of wizards on your doorstep. He made me swear a magical oath that I'd tell him the truth about whatever happens in here." This, of course, was a total lie. Harry had never even talked to Sirius, and had certainly not promised him anything.

Vernon didn't know that though. He exchanged glances with Petunia. They had no choice now.

Petunia sighed in annoyance. "Fine!" she snapped. "The room is yours. We'll just turn the attic into a suite for our Dudders."

Dudley looked annoyed at the idea of having to climb more stairs. "But, Mum," he whined, "it's my bedroom not his. It's not fair."

Harry thought that Dudley was just pathetic.

"Put your things in your room, then get back down here and cook supper," Petunia ordered.

"Fine," Harry said. "But first thing tomorrow I'm throwing out all of that trash in my room." He took great delight in calling Dudley's possessions 'trash'.

Dudley moaned. "It's my stuff. He can't throw it away."

Harry smirked. "It's my room. I'll compromise with you Dudley."

Dudley looked confused. He obviously didn't know what a compromise was.

"I'm not having your stuff in my room, so I'll just box it all up and put it in your 'suite'."

Dudley moaned again, but nothing more was said on the subject.

Harry lugged his trunk and Hedwig's cage upstairs, and opened the window so Hedwig wouldn't have to wait on him.

He went back downstairs to cook supper, which was chicken parmesan. The Dursleys' enjoyed it, but Harry had to make do with a small plate of pasta with no sauce. His family was so charitable.

Harry happily threw all of Dudley's old things into boxes the next morning.

"Ten points to Potter for a perfect shot into the left hoop from across the pitch," he said as he threw Dudley's air rifle across the room.