Mortuo Videns (Drarry)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You shouldn't be here," Harry grumbled, looking through the day's Daily Prophet for any new about Voldemort. "If Petunia finds you in here then there's going to be hell to pay for me."

Dudley ignored that, staring at the newspaper in amazement. "The pictures are moving..."

Harry rolled his eyes at that, holding back his smile. For the past few days, ever since Dudley apologizes, Harry found his cousin around him while he did his chores or sat in his room. Of course, his aunt and uncle knew nothing, both too busy to really notice the change.

"Wizard newspaper," Harry grumbled. "Half of its garbage because the ministry doesn't want a panic of wizards around the country."

"Really?" He was still too absorbed in an Azkaban prisoner screaming in the picture on the front cover.

They both fell back into silence, Harry flipping through the pages and reading carefully in case someone slipped up and gave a little news out. Dudley just kept staring at the moving picture, watching as some waved, laugh, or scenes of crimes moving around. It reminded him of when he first experienced the moving photographs back when he was buying his school supplies during his first year, how he stared at one picture for five minutes until Hagrid pulled him away.

Then Dudley broke the silence. "What are you going to do for your birthday?"

He found himself signing, knowing what the usual tradition for himself was. Stay up till midnight, eat one of the stall treats and wait for a letter to see if anyone was going to pick him up from aunt and uncle's place. It was only a few days away till "Chores, sleep, maybe open presents if anyone sends me anything," He stated. "Why?"

"Aren't you coming of age?" He paused. "You know, in your world."

"That just means I can do magic without being threatened to get kicked out of school," He stated dully, finally got to the back page of the newspaper. "Nothing really rememberable will happen, trust me."

"What if mum and dad try to kick you out?"

"I'd leave," Harry stated, folding the newspaper in half before throwing it into the stack on the desk. "My godfather left me his house, remember? It's in London. I'd be all fine by myself, trust me."

Dudley bit his bottom lip like he was trying to think. Harry just got up from his bed, walking over to his trunk and started digging in it until he found the scrapbook and pulled it out. He gave Dudley a small smile as he walked back over to the bed and sat back down.

"You want to see a picture of my godfather and my parents?" Harry said, not waiting for an answer before he opened it and looked at the grinning faces of his parents. He pointed at his mother, her long red hair was fancily done up in a white dress. "That's my mum." He pointed at the messy-haired man that was leaning on her with a sloppy grin. "That's my dad."

Dudley sat there, watching the moving pictures as Harry flipped through the book. He kept pointing out people he knew, giving small facts about each. That was probably the first time Dudley ever heard his cousin get that excited, so happy that he's talking non-stop. The Harry he grew up with was quiet, the perfect maid, and barely ever go mad. Dudley stared at one of the pictures, a dark figure off in the distance, unable to see the face.

"Who's that?"

Harry squinted down at the page, trying to see what it was. "I-" He paused, squinting harder. "I don't know."

+++

Harry found himself sitting in his room, watching the old beaten up clock tick away. He decided against telling Dudley about his tradition because it felt wrong. In the years he watched his clock tick away the last hours before his birthday, he'd been alone. That was how it always was. From when he was a child to now, nothing changes that.