DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all the characters, places, and magic of his universe belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One - The Bathroom
Two days, Harry Potter thought dully, glancing up from his sandwich at the golden rays of sunset that had just begun to streak through the kitchen window of number four, Privet Drive. He’d been here for only two days, and it had felt like every day of two years. Two long, slow, dreary, uneventful years with no friends, no amusements, and absolutely nothing to distract him from two very big things he was trying not to think about.
But the reality was that two days, not years, had gone by since Harry had said goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys; Tonks, Lupin, and Moody at King’s Cross station, right after they had warned the Dursleys that if they mistreated Harry in any way, they’d hear about it.
Harry’s heart swelled painfully at the memory, still fresh, of being surrounded by so many people who cared about him, simply being there for him. It was a happy thought, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on it for too long. He took another bite of dry sandwich.
At first, he had been immensely pleased to see that the Dursleys seemed to have taken Moody’s words to heart. There had not been a single word from them on the car ride home “ not even Uncle Vernon’s running commentary on how all other drivers were maniacs “ which had suited Harry just fine. The first two days of his summer had been, for a change, abnormally peaceful.
Peaceful, quiet “ and boring.
Now Harry found himself praying that they’d slip up… give him a reason, any reason at all, to send Hedwig straight to the Weasleys or perhaps Lupin, begging for his immediate rescue…
The trouble was, the Dursleys just weren’t being nasty.
Aunt Petunia had spared him most of his usual welcome-home-for-the-summer chores, such as scrubbing the toilet with a toothbrush, and that very morning had even resisted the temptation to swing the frying pan at his head when he’d accidentally toppled a plate of greasy sausages onto her immaculate kitchen floor.
Uncle Vernon had not yelled at Harry once, even when he had asked for a second helping of eggs before Dudley had had his fourth.
Strangest of all, they had even let him touch the television. It droned on even now, though Harry wasn’t really watching it. It was his only company, the most pleasant company to be had in this house.
It was annoying. He shut it off.
Harry poked the last bit of ham sandwich into his mouth, got up from the table, tossed his plate into the sink, wiped his hands on the back of Dudley’s old jeans, and, because he had nothing else to do, tromped up the stairs to his bedroom, where he began to pace about restlessly.
He desperately wanted something to do, something that would make him forget… and yet he didn’t feel like doing anything at all… He didn’t even want to think… he was trying his best not to…
But ever since he had determined not to think about his godfather “ or the prophecy “ Harry was often surprised by the variety of odd things that came flooding in to occupy his otherwise vacant brain.
BOOM… BOOM… BOOM…
The floor beneath Harry’s feet was shaking. The walls began to tremble, and the windows rattled as they did whenever someone drove by the house with the bass turned all the way up. It felt rather like a small earthquake, or perhaps a dinosaur on an evening stroll.
Harry didn’t even blink an eye. After all, it was only Dudley, coming up the stairs.
The bathroom door banged shut. In a moment Harry heard the water running. Then it shut off. Then it came whooshing on again. This went on for several minutes, during which Harry continued to pace, still trying not to think. There was also a great deal of shuffling and clattering and… He stopped suddenly, wondering if he was hearing things.
Was Dudley whistling?
A dozen more minutes of mysterious bathroom activity went noisily by, and with every minute Harry’s curiosity increased; this was too good to pass up. At last he decided that he had to use the toilet, and now was as good a time as any. He went out into the hall and knocked on the bathroom door.
“Yeah?” came Dudley’s voice.
“Open up, Dudley, I’ve got to go.”
“Use the one downstairs,” snarled Dudley.
“Can’t, it’s blocked,” Harry lied.
“Then go outside and find a bush. I’m busy.”
“Busy, eh?” Harry snorted. “What have you been doing in there for the last two hours, anyway? Playing with Mummy’s makeup?”
“I’m warning you, runt, if you don’t shut it I’ll ” ”
“ ” come out of there? Why don’t you already?”
There was no reply except for the faint popping sound of a bottle being opened. Immediately, a strong, pungent aroma came drifting out into the hall, flooding Harry’s nostrils and making his eyes stream.
“Ugh!” Harry gagged. “Is that your dad’s aftershave? Oooh…” he cooed in a baby voice, “ickle Duddykins is gwowing up…”
“It’s called eau de cologne,” snapped Dudley, “and it cost more money than you’ll ever…”
“Well, whatever it is, it stinks. What d’you want to smell like an old man for?”
“I said, shut it!”
Enjoying himself immensely, Harry pounded on the door again. Dudley swore.
“What’re you going to do, freak “ blow up the door?”
“I’d do it in a second if I could,” Harry assured him, determined to get to the bottom of this. “C’mon, Dud, you can’t possibly be shaving in there, your face is still as smooth as a baby’s bum…”
The door burst open, and Harry leapt back.
Oddly enough, he had been mistaken “ it looked as though Dudley had indeed been trying to shave; there was a tiny spot of blood on one of his chins “ but that was all Harry had time to notice before his cousin had him pinned to the wall.
“Listen to me, you ruddy little pipsqueak “ ” Harry struggled; Dudley’s breath smelled strongly of antiseptic “ “I don’t care if Mum and Dad’re worried about those freak friends of yours showing up on our doorstep “ you cheek me one more time and I’ll tear “ AAARGH!”
A hot, powerful surge had suddenly shot through Harry’s body, tingling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes like an electric shock, and he felt himself flying toward the stairs.
Landing on all fours, Harry crouched catlike at Dudley’s feet, panting, not sure what had just happened. Dudley’s purple face had gone chalk white “
“Duddy! What’s going on? Are you ready yet?”
Harry scrambled to his feet. Aunt Petunia’s footsteps were like the pattering of raindrops compared to her son’s thunderous tread as she came trotting up the stairs. She took one look at Dudley, clapped both hands over her horsey teeth and let out a shriek of delight.
“Ooh, Diddy, just look at you! So handsome… so grown up…” She broke off, dabbing at her eyes with her fingertips.
Harry slouched along the wall and ducked into the bathroom. He needn’t have bothered; Aunt Petunia didn’t even glance at him as she flung herself on her son.
“Watch the hair, Mum,” Harry heard Dudley grunt.
“Oh, Duddy, I can’t help it…” There was a loud sniffle, followed by a long honking sound. “My little angel, going on his first date…”
On the other side of the door, Harry’s mouth dropped open.
“Hurry downstairs, popkin, I’ll take your picture before we leave! Just wait till Daddy gets home… he’ll be so proud…”
Harry was squirming with suppressed glee. How he’d love to hit Dudley with a Halitosis Hex… or perhaps a Flatulence Curse…
Dudley muttered something incoherent, and Aunt Petunia’s heels clip-clopped back down the stairs.
Not about to give his cousin the impression that he could be so easily intimidated, Harry casually emerged from the bathroom and stood in the hall, staring openly at Dudley.
Dudley, in turn, looked unflinchingly back at Harry. His blond hair was parted straight down the middle and plastered firmly to his round head, gleaming unnaturally with what could only be an enormous amount of hair gel. He had managed to stuff his thick torso into a dark red polo shirt, and the expression on his pudgy face was suddenly very smug.
Harry sniggered loudly. Ignoring him, Dudley began to lumber down the stairs, holding his massive arms stiffly at his sides, the way Goyle did. Feeling he hadn’t yet received his compensation for nearly being throttled to death a few minutes ago, Harry followed at his heels.
“So, Big D’s going on his first date, eh?” he jeered softly, so that only Dudley could hear. “It’s about time. Where’d you find her, anyway “ in a barnyard, or the zoo?”
He noted with some dismay that his cousin, pausing on the landing to check his reflection in the mirror, seemed unaffected by his remark.
“Actually,” Dudley answered with cool detachment, turning to face Harry, “we met at my last boxing tournament “ girls’ schools from all over Britain turned out to watch, you know “ and after I took first place, they were queuing up to go out with me.” He paused, his tiny eyes watching Harry’s face intently. “And Bernice isn’t my first date, either “ there were a few Mum and Dad don’t even know about.” His smug smile turned into a leer, and Harry felt his insides suddenly turn to stone.
“You’re making that up,” he said, forcing a laugh.
“Think so?” Dudley laughed right back in Harry's face. “I’ve got some good photos… want to see them?”
Harry felt his jaw drop before he could catch himself. “You’re lying.”
“Jealous, are you?” Dudley was smirking.
Harry snorted. “You wish.”
“Yeah? Haven’t you ever had a date?”
“That’s none of your business,” Harry snapped, feeling his face grow hot in spite of himself. Even though he didn’t really have feelings for her anymore, he still squirmed whenever his mind flashed back to Cho…
“Ooh, have I hit a nerve?” Dudley sneered. “What’s the matter, aren’t there any girls at your freak school who’d go out with a scrawny runt like you?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, one did!” Harry burst out, before he could stop himself.
Dudley laughed. “Who was it, the bushy-haired one or the redhead?”
Harry blinked. Hermione? Ginny?
“No,” he said, blushing even hotter, “someone else!”
“Oh, really? I didn’t see her at the station… did she ditch you when she realized what a pathetic little weakling you are?”
Harry clenched his jaw, his wand hand tingling, wanting nothing than more to curse his fat cousin through the roof… He’d show that spoiled, sniveling porker who was weak…
Just then Aunt Petunia appeared at the foot of the stairs, clutching a camera. She beamed at Dudley, then looked at Harry as if he were a dog who’d just soiled the floor.
“Get out of the way,” she snapped; “you’ll ruin the picture.”
Trembling, Harry looked back at Aunt Petunia, trying to catch her eye, but she had gone right back to pretending he wasn’t even there, fussing extravagantly over Dudley. At last, defeated, Harry dragged himself back up the stairs.
There was an odd ringing in his ears as he entered the bathroom and shut the door, then firmly locked it. So Dudley was scoring with the ladies now, was he? Queuing up to go out with the boxing champion, were they? Not that he, Harry, cared, of course… load of rubbish, really...
He flushed the toilet, then turned to the mirror.
There was his reflection, looking the same as always. Pale, pinched face, messy black hair that always looked like he’d just slept on it… He automatically put up a hand to smooth it down, then pulled it away in disgust, rubbing his fingers together. They felt greasy. Gross.
He took off his glasses and pressed his nose against the mirror, trying to see what he’d look like without them. All he could clearly see were two large green eyes “ and just above them, thin and white and jagged “ the scar. It was huge… it seemed to take over his entire face… It was his face…
He was the scar…
Harry tore himself away from the mirror, shaking all over. He hated that scar… and yet without it, what would he be? Certainly not famous. Certainly not the one…
No, he wouldn’t think about that.
He shoved his glasses back on, suddenly hating them, too; they made him look like such a sissy. What had Cho seen in him? What could any girl see in him?
He felt dirty, somehow. He went over to the bathtub and turned on the hot water tap, then pulled his T-shirt up over his head. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of his naked torso in the mirror and liked what he saw even less. He had grown a few more inches in the last year, but it had only served to make him skinnier than ever…
Turning his back on the mirror in disgust, Harry finished undressing, shut off the tap, and crawled into the enormous tub (Uncle Vernon had replaced the old one two summers ago, as Dudley had no longer been able to fit into it). As he sank down into the steaming water, he tried to reason with himself. He was being ridiculous “ who cared what Dudley said, anyway?
He sighed languorously, sinking deeper until only his head was above the water, and began to relax…
He was simmering luxuriously in the large sunken pool in the prefects’ bathroom, surrounded by mountains of purple foam that smelled remarkably like Dudley’s horrible cologne…
All of a sudden Moaning Myrtle came drifting through the wall. She spotted Harry and gave a loud, high-pitched squeal.
“Oooh, look! It’s him! It’s him!”
The purple foam vanished, leaving the water crystal clear.
Horrified, Harry lunged for his towel, but Myrtle, no longer transparent but looking vividly substantial, let out a cackle like Peeves and zoomed over to him, hands outstretched to grab his towel and his clothes. Harry swore and jumped up, snatching desperately, but his fingers barely brushed the hem of his pajama bottoms as Myrtle swept them out of reach and soared toward the ceiling, shrieking with laughter. There was a blinding flash…
“Looking good, Harry!” Colin Creevey had appeared with his camera, clicking away. “Just a little more to the right… that’s it… great pose… they’ll love it!”
“Colin, NO!” shouted Harry, diving for his wand. “ACCIO CAMERA!”
Nothing happened. Colin simply beamed, as though it were not only perfectly acceptable, but in fact quite a wonderful thing indeed, to photograph Harry without a stitch of clothing on him. “Thanks, Harry! Got to dash… better get these out fast!” And he bolted out of the room.
Fortunately, at that precise moment Myrtle swooped down just low enough for Harry to snatch his towel. He frantically wrapped it around his waist and sprinted out the door after Colin.
He stopped dead in his tracks. His stomach dropped right to the floor.
The corridor was full of people. At first Harry thought the entire school had gathered there, but he quickly realized that these were not Hogwarts students…
He was facing a crowd of girls. Girls “ and women “ some as young as eight, some looking as old as Professor McGonagall… a vast, colorful herd of giggling females in Muggle clothes whom Harry had never seen before in his life… and every single one of them was holding her very own glossy, full-size photograph of…
Just when Harry had become convinced that it was, in fact, possible to die of humiliation on the spot, he felt two pairs of hands seize him by the elbows and drag him back into the heavily perfumed bathroom.
“Colloportus!” cried two voices in unison.
The door slammed, and a lock clicked. Silence fell.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing, Harry?”
It was Hermione, still clutching his left arm. She looked positively flustered.
Harry stared at her. “What does it look like I’m doing? I was taking a bath!”
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. “Harry, you can’t just go off by yourself and take a bath whenever you fancy one… what a stupid thing to do… don’t you know you’re famous?”
“It’s not my fault!” Harry shouted at her. “Myrtle… Colin…”
“You’ve got to be careful, Harry!” said the girl on his right.
Harry spun around. It was Ginny.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Ginny gave him a hard look. “I’m only trying to help,” she said coolly.
“Harry,” Hermione began again, her voice taking on a high, anxious tone, “it’s really hard for me to say this, but… you… you’re awfully skinny, you know.”
Harry flushed scarlet to the roots of his hair. “Yeah? So what?”
“Haven’t you been going to your Hypertrophia lessons with Snape? Did you drink your Protein Potion? If you had, I’m sure you’d at least have some decent biceps by now… and your chest…”
Harry couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“Hermione, don’t you realize that right now, as you stand here criticizing my physique, thousands of women are out there in the corridor with PHOTOGRAPHS OF ME NAKED?”
Ginny began to laugh. “Oh, is that all?” she said lightly, with a wave of her hand. “Honestly, Harry, I don’t see what’s got you so upset. When You-Know-Who possessed me, he made me dance naked in front of the whole school, wearing nothing but Dobby’s tea cozy.”
“Really?” Harry gaped at her. “Was I there?”
“Oh, yes, but you didn’t even notice,” Ginny said sadly.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry, and he meant it.
“Harry,” Hermione said hastily, “it’s okay to be skinny, really! We like you just the way you are, we really do.”
Ginny nodded earnestly.
“And if you really want to run around the school naked,” Hermione went on solemnly, “I promise, we won’t try to stop you “ we’ll do whatever it takes to help “ ”
And without another word, both girls reached down and yanked Harry’s towel away.
“NOOOOOOOOO!”