He had been stuck here since then. Every half hour or so she would sweep in and verify that he kept moving things around.
Dudley shuddered. The last time she had actually started throwing away stuff! He didn't really remember getting it all, and she was focusing on the things that had somehow broken, but it was HIS THINGS! And she didn't even stop when he said NO!
His perfect world seemed to be crumbling. Well, cleaning anyway.
Vernon was confused. It almost seemed like a new natural state for him. When Petunia had gone upstairs, he had tried to open the blasted cupboard, but the lock would not turn. Hesitantly, he had knocked on the door, 'Boy, you alive in there?'
A smooth voice had responded 'Yes sir.' It sounded LIKE the kid, but so much different. No dark twinges, no hidden threats, no sick suggestions buried in innocence. His guff 'Well, thats good then. Need to come out?' had almost been reflexive.
Thankfully, but even more odd, was the response 'No thank you.'
So now he was sitting in the living room.
He was also confused by his wife. She had come down the stairs over five times now with trash bags. Had it really gotten that bad up there?
Petunia placed another huge bag of trash out near the bins. She felt more tired from all this weight lifting than she had in weeks, but it also felt satisfying. SO MUCH JUNK in that room!
She had taken all the money from Dudleykins, it was beyond her why he had such a large amount anyway. What was an eight year old going to do with over a £1200 anyway? How long had they kept giving him money when he asked? WHAT could he even spend it on? She had a mischievous smirk as she walked into the living room and handed the wad of paper bills to her man. "Happy Christmas dear!"
Vernon's gob-smacked expression made her day. The conversation after was less fun, but she felt it had been worth it.
Harry has been having an odd morning. He could feel the house moving like an anthill had been kicked. He KNEW it was going off the rails when Vernon, the LOUD MAN, whispered about his well being! What the bloody hell was going on in this house?
When he felt Petunia throwing away the garbage from Dudley's room, he was too surprised to even regret the potential losses. Heck, all these changes were distracting him from his training methods.
He could feel all of their emotions to a certain extent when they moved near the stairs. They felt cleaner, crisper. Harry realized that the blackness would have been thickest near where he rested, and so both the adults had been SLEEPING directly over the daemon baby's cell.
Well, he could sympathize with them to a certain extent. His OWN world felt cleaner and richer without that bastard in his face.
He focused back on his limbs. He now had three ropes in each limb, and could almost make a cord... However, that didn't feel fast enough. In his mind-scape he had managed to create cables of cords, at least internally. A few ropes felt like nothing compared to that.
He watched his right arm. It always felt easiest, since it had been the first to experience the green threads under his direct control. Thickening three ropes, he began twisting them into a single cord. Gritting his teeth, Harry was beginning to wish that each new idea he had would stop requiring his body being altered.
Vernon was just lost now. His son had apparently collected so much cash he didn't even bother putting all in one place. His wife had not only cleaned the top floor, but had taken out MANY bags of broken and old things that Dudley had apparently kept for no real reason. She had even cooked a pretty good pork-chop, and he couldn't remember the last time she had done that.
He looked upstairs, where he could still hear his son grumbling as he was cleaning away. CLEANING!
It all felt like good changes, but good rarely happened in this house. His guilt had gone down pretty heavily after hearing the thing under the stairs, but it had not gone away... somehow the new voice made him feel guilty just by being polite! He was regretting the confrontational tone he had taken even now, which had never bothered him in the past.
This was turning into one of the best Saturdays he could remember, and it was making him nervous.
Maybe he didn't have to stay home as often? If the feeling stayed away, maybe he could feel safer about leaving his wife and child near it without him. He had given up many of his hobbies, cut ties with several friends, and had given up much just because he was concerned about what would happen to his family if he left that house alone.
Vernon had deep thoughts for the rest of the day, deep to the point where he missed several dim flashes of light from the cupboard under the stairs.
Dudley was grumbling as he continued to sort and change the shapes of the piles. Looking around to make sure he was alone, he smiled a little. He would not admit it to anyone else, but having more room here actually was kind of nice. He had also found some toys he had missed but couldn't find in the piles.
He was annoyed that mom had taken his money, but it was not a huge loss. He had never really bothered to count or spend it, since everything he wanted he got anyway. Plus he had found a small box of fake coins from some birthday when he was younger. Now he could pretend to be a pirate!
He kept looking for something sword-like or maybe a chest or something.
Harry was kind of shocked. Frankly, he had hopped twisting ropes would increase the growth rate of his thread network.
Instead his arm had caught on fire.
He absently watched the flames, unable to really react at the moment. The flames were green, and they did not feel like they hurt. Well, the inside felt strained, like over-tensing his muscles during his run, but the fire itself was not charing his skin.
He stopped twisting the ropes, and the green flames collapsed into the palm of his right hand. As long as a thread or more of light touched it, the fire seemed happy to stay, dancing in his palm. The green light filled the dark room, and Harry felt a bit off about the whole situation.
Closing his hand, he decided to worry about the whole issue later. Rubbing ropes together created fire? Well, that was nice but not what he was aiming for. Harry guessed it was like rubbing sticks or something. Maybe he could make a fire or light if he needed. Whatever, he had goals for today that did not involve THIS whole new situation.
Focusing on both arms, he thickened four ropes and wove them together. Twisting was not a great idea when living in a small WOODEN prison. As the ropes became woven, Harry felt his arms strengthen. Focusing on his skin, he saw the threads there starting to duplicate the pattern of the thick ropes within. The new pattern seemed to harden and empower his flesh.
THIS was useful. Burning someone was a pretty big decision, but making himself stronger? That didn't give him any moral issues. He could probably take a whole pan in the arm now without injury, so mere fists should do nothing to Harry now.