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One hundred and forty going on twelve by broomstick flyer
Chapter 26 : Hermione and the Dursleys
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 16

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Disclaimer Potter belongs to another; though I wish he was mine, all that money… and I could get rid of the seventh book.

One Hundred and Forty going on twelve

Chapter twenty six

Hermione and the Dursleys

Once Mrs Weasleys welcome consisting of bone crushing hugs were over there was a short celebration held in the now crowded Burrow kitchen, each of those there had taken a shower to rid them of the dirt and smell of the battle that had taken place, Harry was given the privilege of taking the first shower followed by Hermione, every one else took their turn and returned to the kitchen refreshed and ready to celebrate.

Harry found it a little odd as they all expressed their joy at the demise of Voldemort, and even though they had said they were going to celebrate quite a few of them just up and left, huge smiles on their faces.

At eight-o-clock the following morning Harry along with Hermione and Dumbledore left the Burrow by portkey and arrived outside the main doors of Hogwarts School, to his surprise there was a huge party going on right there on the lawns in front of the school, it looked to him like it had been an all night party.

As Harry was about to take hold of Hermione’s hand, but he was stopped by a rush of people who hoisted him up on to their shoulders and began to cheer for him, he as usual felt a little embarrassed by all the attention and wanted nothing more than to slip off home with his wife and relax.

It was nearly an hour before he and Hermione managed to escape what appeared to be the entire population of Hogsmeade, all of them wanting to shake his hand. Madam Rosemerta was dishing out butterbeer as though it was simple drinking water.
Elves rushed around serving sandwiches to any one who wanted one, Harry managed to catch hold of Hermione’s hand and holding her by her waist he began to dance, using the dance as a cover Harry’s feet led them gradually toward their home where they very quickly retreated into the invisible building.

Just five very short minutes later Harry was wishing he was back outside with the party, he had forgotten that Hermione had been mad at him for some reason, Hermione however had not forgotten, and the moment they entered the living room Harry was being yelled at by both his wife and his mother for getting himself killed, the fact that he was alive and standing there listening to them should prove that he was ok, he thought, but that argument seemed to hold no sway with Hermione who was now crying, as she yelled about how he had broken her heart, and scared her half to death.

“It wasn’t me love, it was that damn Voldemort,” Harry said trying to get the two women to calm down, “there was no way I could have let that killing curse hit you.”

Hermione stopped her tirade when he mentioned the curse he had jumped in front of and started to smother him in kisses, ‘she was so scared she forgot about how it happened’ he thought as his mother too stopped telling him off.

“Harry how did you do it… you know come back from being dead?” she asked as she leant her head against his shoulder.

“Well actually love, I’m no too sure, though I do have a theory, still I’ll tell you what I think then you can work out if I got it right, first when Voldemort first tried to kill me I think he left part of his soul, ‘like a horcrux but one he never knew about’ any way that part of his soul connected it self to my soul, you could say it was feeding off me, anyway this time when he killed me, in stead of my own soul leaving me, I think it sort of got pushed to the side sort of, anyway that left the piece of Voldemort wide open and I think it was that that died, or was driven out to go where ever the rest of his evil soul has gone, do you know what I mean, well as soon as that happened my own soul popped back from where ever it had been and I woke up as though nothing had happened. Well that’s my theory. So what do you think?” Harry took a deep breath and waited to see what she had to say.

“So Voldemort killed himself, or at least part of him self. Seems sort of right, some of that poetic justice I read about,” Hermione said as she looked up into his eyes.

Two weeks after the defeat of Voldemort Harry woke to find Hermione was not lying next to him, her half of the bed seemed cool so he knew she had been up for a while, ‘Hermione love’ he called as he got showered before he dressed.

‘I’m down in the living room Harry’ she replied to his implied question ‘talking to your mum’

Harry thought he felt a chuckle coming from his wife but he dismissed it as he made his way down to the kitchen ‘I’m just going to make some breakfast, do you want any?’

‘No thanks love, Harrrrreeeey’ Hermione said in a strange way ‘don’t take to long we’re going out’

Again Harry thought he could feel his wife chuckling, it was a rather odd feeling, something like she knew something that nobody else did, and she found the knowing amusing, that was the best way he could describe it, intrigued he rushed through his breakfast only bothering to make himself some egg on toast.

An hour later they were on the Hogsmeade road heading for the village, “This will do, we can not be seen from either direction,” Hermione said as she pulled Harry to a stop.

Harry cocked an eye brow in a similar fashion to how Hermione did when she was inquisitive, but for some reason the way Harry did it made Hermione laugh.

“Ok so what do we need secrecy for,” he asked watching as Hermione took her wand and placed it in her bag. “Give me your wand.”

Harry passed his wand to Hermione and watched as she placed it with hers in her bag “We won’t be needing these,” she said a large smile breaking out on her face. Then with a quick wave of her hand and some odd sounding spell in a language Harry had never heard before Hermione suddenly began to grow, just a few seconds later she had grown and aged, she looked around twenty five or so to Harry.

“How on earth!” Harry started but he was silenced when she said yet another spell in the odd language.

Less than five seconds later Harry was staring up at his mother, the shock made his legs go weak and he sat down on the grass at the side of the road, “Hermione?” he asked sounding a little stunned.

The voice that replied “Of course silly,” was not his wife’s voice, it was the voice he had heard in his dreams, in his nightmares when attacked by Dementors, it was his mother’s voice.

“Time for some pay back,” she said grinning, a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

“Huh,” Harry said being as it was all his brain came up with.

“We’re off to Privet Drive love,” his wife/mum said still with the gleam in her eye, “I want you to apparate us to Mrs Figg’s.”

As soon as Hermione mentioned Mrs Figg Harry knew he was only along for the ride, he knew that if Hermione had known where Mrs Figg lived she would have left him at home. “Hermione what are you plotting?” he asked knowing he would have to wait to find out.

Sitting in Mrs Figg’s cat smelling house and drinking a cup of tea Harry listened as his wife gave him some instructions, Mrs Figg sat in her old arm chair rubbing her hands and chuckling loudly as Hermione outlined the plan she had concocted with the help of Harry’s parents, Sirius and Godric, Godric having been the one to tell her the appearance altering spell.
Harry finished his drink then followed by Hermione he made his way to number four Privet drive.

Petunia Dursley opened her front door to find her hated nephew standing smiling at her “What do you want freak?” she asked as she made to shut the door but found she couldn’t.

Petunia glanced across the street checking to see if any of the neighbours were watching before she looked down at Harry and said “Come in quick.”

Harry stepped in to the hall as his aunt walked toward her immaculate kitchen “Shut the door and wipe your filthy feet,” she snarled at him.

Harry watched her walk into the kitchen before he closed the door, then followed her in to the kitchen, he remembered the details extremely well and was thinking of the times he had been forced to scrub the floor until his hands bled.

“So what are you after, what do you want,” his aunt snarled at him again.

“Oh I just wanted to visit, tell you about my new school, about my wife Hermione, and about all the millions of pounds my dad left me,” Harry said casually.

“Millions of pounds?” Petunia repeated his words “what do you mean millions.”

“Oh I don’t know how many, all I know is that I have millions and millions and millions,” Harry said trying to sound like a little boy.

Harry heard the kitchen door open but he ignored it, not showing any indication that he knew Hermione had just walked in to the room.

“Are you all right aunt Petunia,” he asked innocently.

Petunia was staring pale faced over his shoulder; Harry turned around then shrugged as he turned back, “Aunt Petunia?”

Hermione walked around the kitchen as though she were inspecting it for dust, she rubbed her finger across the counter then examined it and tutted, using the nickname told to her by Lily she looked at the aunt and spoke.

“Always the same eh Tunny, you always were a little obsessive.”

“I… you… you… died, you died years ago,” Petunia spluttered staring at Hermione.

“No aunt Petunia, I didn’t die, my mum and dad died,” Harry said as though his aunt was speaking to him.

“I was watching the way you treated Harry and I don’t like what I saw, so I have decided to spend a few years haunting you and the gross ugly fat lump of rubbish you call Vernon, and that equally ugly fat brain dead pig you call your son, did you ever think of weighing the fat freak, you could get a good price for all that fat, I’m sure Harry might be able find you a hag willing to eat more fat than meat,” Hermione was saying as she opened cupboards and drawers.

“Don’t you dare call my Dudder’s a freak,” Petunia screeched.

“I never said a word,” Harry said struggling hard against the desire to laugh.

Petunia stared at him as though she had forgotten he was there “Not you freak, her,” she said pointing at Hermione who was now turning on the taps of the sink.

Harry made a show of looking around the kitchen “Who?” he asked sounding convincingly confused.

“Her that freak sister of mine,” Petunia yelled at him.

Harry backed away a little “Are you feeling ok aunt?” he asked.

“He can’t see me, hasn’t a clue,” Hermione said as she lifted a bag of flour from one of the cupboards, and watched as she levitated it out of the door.

They all heard the thud as the bag of flour hit the floor, a cloud of white dust floated in through the narrow opening, Harry stood still not turning to look were the thud came from, he was beginning to enjoy this immensely, all he had to do was to resist the urge to laugh, and as it was one of the people who had made his first eleven years so miserable he found it quite easy.

Hermione tutted “Dear me Tunny it looks like you dropped some thing,” she said as she levitated every thing from the fridge.

Petunia was suddenly convinced it was Harry that was doing everything, “You evil little freak,” she shouted at him pushing him out of the kitchen, “get out, get out of my house and don’t come back,” she screamed as she pushed him down the hallway.

Harry spent the next few hours sitting in the park, carefully balanced on one of the benches so he could watch as Hermione plagued his aunt.

“You really thought it was my Harry?” she asked as Petunia returned to the kitchen after throwing Harry from the house.

It was when Vernon arrived home that Harry began to worry, he watched as his fat uncle stepped into the hall and shut the front door, as soon as he turned to walk to the kitchen he saw Hermione, or more precisely he saw Lily Potter standing watching him.

“Good evening fat slob,” she greeted him, “why don’t you join your evil wife in the kitchen.”

Harry chuckled he knew he had no need to worry as Hermione wandlessly and effortlessly levitated his huge uncle off the ground and sent him into the kitchen. Vernon with his eyes wide in fright stared around at the usually spotless kitchen; Hermione had emptied the contents of the cupboards and fridge onto the floor and spread the mess over every surface.

Vernon’s piggy eyes looked around the kitchen for Petunia before he saw her pinned to the ceiling, a second later he was pinned there with her.

“Put me down you freak,” he yelled trying to claw through the air.

“Ok,” Hermione said and she let him drop, Harry could have sworn he felt the bump through the bench as the fat man bounced off the kitchen floor.

For some odd reason the events he watched as Hermione tormented Vernon reminded him of the day he had blown up his aunt and he began to chuckle at the memory.

Hermione had now tired of playing with the Dursleys, she began to put the finishing touch to her plans, Petunia Dursley suddenly found her self back on the ground and standing next to Vernon.
A piece of string appeared and wrapped its self around their wrists, then two sandwich boards appeared one slung over the shoulders of each Dursley, the writing that appeared both at the back and front seemed to shock Vernon more than the floating had, both boards were irremovable and read in large print,

‘This is not an advertisement it is a true statement of fact.
I am a child beater, I beat my nephew with out reason, every day for ten years, I often broke his bones, I also enjoyed starving him, from the age of two I locked him in a cupboard under the stairs, only letting him out to do all the house work and the cooking, I spent all those years not only beating him but also degrading him and calling him names, my name is Dursley I live at number four Privet Drive, little whinging.’

With a wave of her hand Hermione emptied all their pockets ensuring that they were penniless and with out any of their credit cards, she then placed a small metal bracelet on Petunia’s wrist and stepped back as the port key activated and took the Dursleys to an alley just off Piccadilly square London.

Five minutes later Harry was joined on the bench in the park by Hermione who was back to normal.

“I hope they take a week to walk home,” she said before they both vanished from the bench.

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