Midnight Duel, Midday Love
Giving Karma a Helping Hand
By Draco664
Giving karma a helping hand.
Harry gracefully stepped out of the fire at Mrs. Figg's house in Little Whinging. Harry supposed that traveling by floo was similar to muggle escalators. If you didn't know how to get on and off, you often made a fool out of yourself.
Harry crashed to the floor anyway, throwing himself down as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large black object launch itself at him from the side. Harry rolled to his feet in less than a second and had his wand in his hand ready.
Being deprived of its target, the huge black creature flew through the air where Harry had been and, with a startled yelp, crashed ungracefully into a table and chair, both loaded with books and other objects. Harry took his opportunity and, with a flick of his wand combined with a summoning charm, caused an enormous bookshelf to crash down upon his attacker.
It was at this moment that Mrs. Figg stepped out of the fire. She took one look at Harry's determined face and drew her own wand. She too aimed it at the fallen bookshelf, and the muffled groans and swearing emanating from underneath.
Harry recognized that voice. He lowered his wand and grinned. "Sirius, are you alright?"
With a final grunt, Harry's godfather's head appeared from underneath the pile. "Fine, never better." he spat, disgustedly. "How are you?"
"Just fine. I always feel fine when I disrupt a prank on me." Harry said with a smirk. He strode over and offered his hand.
Sirius grunted and waved away Harry's offer of assistance. "It is becoming a real chore to be your godfather, you know." he grumbled as he slowly extracted himself from the literary pile. "It was so much easier when you were a baby."
"Being a godfather has more responsibility involved than playing jokes on your godson." Mrs. Figg said sternly.
Sirius snorted. "Don't be silly, Arabella. Look at him. He doesn't need me to look after him, or protect him." Sirius ruefully rolled his left shoulder, wincing. "He definitely doesn't need protection. He does need to have a laugh occasionally though."
Harry's smile never left his face. With one bound he caught Sirius up in a hug. "I've missed you Sirius." he said. "How are things at Black's Pad?"
Sirius returned the hug gleefully. "Just fine. The house elves are still getting used to the fact that they don't get hit with each instruction, and there are a lot of dark objects I'm finding, but other than that, it is a great place."
Harry grinned. "Have you checked under the secret chamber under the drawing room floor?"
Sirius blinked and stepped back. "How did you know about that?"
"Ron told his Dad about it in our second year." Harry replied.
Sirius shook his head. "Then how did he find out about it?" he asked pointedly.
Harry gave his godfather a superior smile. "Oh, we just went into the Slytherin common room in our second year to try and figure out who the Heir of Slytherin was. Malfoy told us that his father's manor had been raided that week, but there were plenty of valuable dark arts objects in the secret chamber under the drawing room floor the ministry had missed."
Sirius looked at Arabella with a smirk. "See! I told you he was a Potter!"
He turned back to Harry. "You tell me your way, and I'll tell you mine."
It was Harry's turn to look surprised. "You got into the Slytherin common room too?"
Sirius put on a long suffering look. "Of course. But it was in our fifth year, so you beat us there."
"Why did you try to go there in the first place?"
Sirius gave an evil smile. "Snape wouldn't come out to be pranked, that's why!"
Harry and Sirius spent most of Sunday afternoon lazing away at Mrs. Figg's house, chatting about what had happened since they had last seen each other. They discussed their past pranks, debated the various methods of getting into the Slytherin common room (with a view to play pranks on them), and caught up on the latest inventions of WWW.
"James' son with his own joke shop. I cannot imagine a single thing that would bring a bigger smile to his face." said Sirius, as he and Harry sat on armchairs in front of the fire, each nursing a large, mildly alcoholic beverage.
Harry smiled and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the sensation of belonging to a family. "You remember the bouncing ferret wheezes, don't you? The ones Fred and George released at our party?"
"Oh, yes. People kept laughing when I asked what they meant. I never did get to find out the reference behind them."
Harry's face split into a massive smile at the memory. "Crouch, as Moody, interrupted an argument Malfoy and I were having. I turned to leave after a parting shot, and Malfoy sent a curse at my back. Crouch promptly transfigured him into a white ferret and made him bounce around the room."
The sound of Sirius' roar of laughter sent shivers of delight down Harry's spine. Though recently he had become more aware of what it was like to have a real family, the simple pleasure of joking and laughing with someone who loved you as family was still new to him.
"Ok, you two. It is time for Harry to get back to Hogwarts. You can use the fire, dear." said Mrs. Figg from the doorway leading to the kitchen.
"Not just yet, Arabella." said Sirius. He turned to Harry with a wide, calculating grin. "I'm sure your Uncle would be home by now..."
"Sirius!" said Mrs. Figg in a stern, level voice. The two wizards ignored her and, seconds later, a large black dog and a blood-red phoenix raced through the front door of Mrs. Figg's house.
Vernon Dursley had been home for an hour and was starting to finally relax. Petunia had fussed over him on his arrival, clucking over his awful appearance, bemoaning the fact that he had obviously been mistreated in prison. Right now, his wife was cooking him an enormous meal and he was sitting in his favorite chair watching TV, a half-full sniffer of brandy in his hand.
Suddenly, the TV flickered, and changed channel. Vernon frowned in confusion, and looked around for the remote. Discovering it wasn't within reach, he stood and hunted around. After a few minutes he found it on top of the television itself. He picked it up and changed the channel back to what he was watching, then returned to his seat, wriggling his large body to get comfortable. Again, after a few seconds, the channel changed to a different station.
Vernon grunted as he got to his feet. Moving over to the television set, he did what most people who know nothing about sensitive electronics do when confronted with a misbehaving appliance and performed some percussive maintenance.
"What are you hitting the TV for, Dear?" Petunia asked.
"Damn thing keeps changing channels." he replied, giving the TV one last thump.
He went back to his chair and picked up the remote. Aiming it at the TV, he tried changing the channel back. The batteries promptly dropped out of the control.
Vernon growled in frustration and bent over to pick up the batteries. A crash then a shriek from the kitchen startled him.
"Petunia! Are you alright?" he yelled running into the kitchen. His dinner was splattered all over the floor; his wife standing in shock with her bony hand over her mouth.
"I'm sorry, Vernon. I guess I must have put the pot on the edge of the bench." she said, a confused look on her horsey face.
Before Vernon could reply, the light in the kitchen flickered and vanished with a pop.
Growling louder, Vernon stormed out of the kitchen and went to find a spare light globe. He opened the cupboard under the stairs rather roughly. Roughly enough that the door came off the hinges in his hand. "Damn it!" he yelled, tossing the small door to the floor. He looked around in the cupboard and located the small box with spare light globes.
Instead of fumbling for the correct globe, Vernon grabbed the whole box and stood up, grunting in pain as he banged the back of his head on the top of the now-empty door frame.
Rubbing the back of his slightly balding head, he took a couple of steps towards the kitchen before tripping over the recently discarded door.
The box flew out of his hands and landed on the floor with a little tinkle emerging from within. Vernon's blood pressure elevated into dangerously high territory when he examined the inside of the box, noting that only the globes that would have fit the kitchen light were broken.
It would have taken a canine's sharp ears to hear the whispered conversation coming from just outside the Dursley's front window.
"How long does the bad luck charm last?"
"Depends on how much they deserve it."
"Another few hours at least then."
Another shriek from the kitchen brought Vernon running. He misjudged his path through the lounge though and managed to run into the hand rest of an armchair, causing both man and chair to end up on their respective backs.
Turning purple with frustration, Vernon got up and rushed into the kitchen. The light coming from the lounge was enough to see his wife sitting in the middle of a casserole covered floor. A rather obvious skid mark in the thick sauce gave mute testimony to what had occurred.
"Petunia! Are you alright?" he asked, reaching down to assist his wife to her feet.
"I'm fine, I just can't see properly in this dark kitchen." she snapped. Deciding to leave his wife and her sharp tongue alone for now, Vernon retreated cowardly from the kitchen. He bent over to pick up the armchair he knocked over.
As he started righting the chair, the TV switched channels once again and the sound of incredibly loud gunfire filled the room.
Petunia screamed. Vernon jerked up, pulling the heavy chair up with him. His eyes crossed, he grabbed his groin and collapsed on the carpet, groaning to himself.
Never before in Harry's memory had so many Gryffindors laughed themselves sick. The story of Vernon Dursley's welcome home had been told and retold. Each time, more and more people had to leave the room to recover before returning to hear the rest.
"They had three separate accidents on the way to the hospital." laughed Ron to some second year students who had just come back from detention with Snape.
"Dursley kept screaming in pain from his hernia, while his wife kept screaming at the people she crashed into."
"Did they make it to the hospital?" asked one of the potion-stained second year students.
"Oh, yes. That's when the real fun started."
"More bad luck happened to them?"
"Yep." said Harry. "My Uncle slipped and landed face first in the spilt contents of a patient's colostomy bag."
Several muggle born students either winced in sympathy or laughed with glee. The students from wizarding families frowned in confusion, then looked slightly sick once Hermione gave them a rather clinical explanation.
"Bloody hell! Do muggles really let doctors do that to them?"
"They often don't have a choice." Hermione explained.
"'Mione! You're interrupting!" complained Ron.
"Sorry."
"Now, where were we?" Ron asked his audience.
"What accidents did they have on the way?" asked a third year witch who had finally managed to compose herself for another round of Dursley stories.
Harry grinned from ear to ear. "My Uncle has a car that he made me polish every few days during the last few summers. My Aunt misread a turn and managed to squeeze the car down an alleyway. That got rid of the paint down both sides. When she tried to reverse out, she ran straight into a parked police car."
All the students in earshot all gave an "oooooouuuuwwwwww" sound at this.
"That can't have been good." said Natalie McDonald, shyly. As Gryffindor's reserve Seeker, she held Harry in awe not for his reputation as The-Boy-Who-Lived, but for the unbelievable skill he displayed on the Quidditch pitch.
Harry's grin widened. "Especially when you find out that the police car they ran into belonged to two officers called Barry and Carter, the very pair who arrested my Uncle in the first place."
"I bet they didn't believe what they saw."
"Not at first. I'm quite sure it wasn't the only time they checked inside a car and found a panicking person behind the wheel trying to get their spouse to the hospital with the spouse in the back seat groaning in pain while holding their stomach." Harry took a deep breath, desperately trying to keep his laughter under enough control so he was understandable. "I am sure it was the first time they saw the wife behind the wheel though." he continued.
"Which accident was that?" asked Neville, after he recovered enough to actually make sense.
"The second one. The first was just getting the car out of the garage. My Aunt just pushed my Uncle into the car and jumped in the front seat. She started the car and slammed her foot on the accelerator. She neglected to open the garage door."
It took the muggle born students a few moments to collect themselves enough to explain exactly what an accelerator was and how not opening a garage door was not generally considered a good idea.
After a while, the third accident became the topic of conversation. The benefits of having ABS installed on a car was discussed by several of the students. Obviously, the Dursleys didn't.
"How long were the skid marks?" asked Dean.
"And then Barry organized a special crane to extract their car from the canal." finished Harry for the third time, finally able to control his laughter enough to tell the story without interruption.
"But I thought that you said that the fun started when they got to the hospital!" whimpered Ginny, holding her stomach, the muscles there hurting like crazy.
Harry again broke out in giggles. "Yep, let's just say that Sirius managed to get into their room. The sudden appearance of a black dog the size of a bear had a definite effect on their composure."
"Did anything else happen to them in the hospital?" asked Ginny.
Harry nodded. "What do you want to know about first? My Uncle's accidental stumble that sent him face first into a vending machine, my Aunt's complete loss of control, resulting in her being handcuffed by security, or when they were mistaken for escapees from a local asylum and both taken away in straight-jackets?"
The students of the three other houses watched with curiosity as each and every Gryffindor student gently made their way to their table for breakfast the next morning. Without exception, every Gryffindor looked like they hadn't slept and had stomach aches.
Occasionally one of them would giggle, then clutch at their stomach and groan in pain.
Unsurprisingly, several accusatory glances were sent towards the Slytherin table by the present Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Even Professor McGonagall was sweeping her stern gaze over the Slytherin students, looking for a sign of guilt.
Cho sat with her back to the Gryffindor table for the first time since Harry returned. She had been true to her word and had spent a great deal of time thinking about her relationship with Harry, but still needed more time.
With the daily mail delivery, a snowy white owl dropped a letter on her plate. Cho sighed, opened the envelope, and read Harry's letter. It was surprisingly short and concise.
Dear Cho,
I realize why you need time and distance to think about us, and I want you to take as much time as you feel you need. I will be here for you when you feel you are done.
All I ask is that you don't make a final decision that affects both of us. For something so important, we both need to agree.
I love you, I always will.
Harry
Cho took a deep breath, desperately trying to prevent the tears forming in her eyes from falling. She stood quickly, gathered her things, and made her way early to her classes.
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