When Harry stepped back into the Dursleys' house, the air felt heavier than usual. Aunt Petunia's sharp eyes immediately flicked toward him as she stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, her lips already curling into a sneer. Her face twisted into the familiar expression of disdain she reserved for him whenever chores weren't done exactly as she liked. The tension was palpable, the same suffocating weight that had always pressed down on him, reminding him that this house had never been his home.
Her voice, cold and biting, was just seconds from spilling out another harsh command or insult when Harry, feeling a sudden surge of defiance, stopped her with a single word.
"Wait."
It was enough to make her pause, her mouth half-open, eyes narrowing. She hadn't expected that.
"What did you just say?" she spat, clearly thrown by the boldness he rarely displayed.
Harry, however, had been preparing for this moment. His heart was pounding, but he kept his voice steady.
"I said, I want to make a deal."
Petunia blinked, stunned for a moment. Then, recovering quickly, she laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. "A deal? With you?" she scoffed.
"What could you possibly have that we want?"
Harry took a deep breath, staring straight into her cold eyes. "Money."
The word hung in the air between them, thick with meaning. He could see the shift in her posture—subtle, but enough. Her lips pursed, and her arms uncrossed as she stepped closer, her gaze hardening into something more calculating. Petunia wasn't foolish; she loved her reputation almost as much as she loved keeping the Dursley family's secrets under wraps.
"Money?" she echoed, still skeptical, but he noticed the flicker of greed behind her eyes. "And where would you get money from, boy? You're a useless drain on this household—"
Harry didn't flinch. He was past caring about her insults.
"You and Uncle Vernon are having financial problems, aren't you? I know about it, just like I know about your... meetings with Mrs. Polkiss's husband." The words were deliberate, a quiet strike, and Harry saw how they hit their mark. Petunia's face went ashen, her eyes widening for a brief second before narrowing into icy slits.
"How dare you," she hissed, venom dripping from every word, her fingers twitching at her sides as if she wanted to hit him. But she didn't. Harry could tell she was too stunned, too caught off-guard. He pressed on.
"I'm offering you a way out. You get some money. Enough to help with your debts, enough to keep this house running without any of you complaining about me being a burden. In exchange, I get Dudley's second bedroom. I get real meals, three times a day. And no one in this house ever touches me again. Not you, not Vernon, and especially not Dudley."
Petunia's breath caught, her nostrils flaring. "And if I refuse?"
Harry met her gaze, unflinching.
"I'll make sure everyone knows. Your neighbors, Vernon's co-workers, everyone at church. They'll all find out about how your precious family isn't as perfect as you like to pretend. They'll find out about the money problems, and about you… and Mr. Polkiss."
The color drained from her face entirely now, leaving her looking pale and hollow. For the first time in his life, Harry saw something like fear in Petunia Dursley's eyes. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, her voice trembling slightly.
"How much money?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, no longer sneering, but calculating, desperate.
"As much as you need. I have enough. I'll pay rent for the room, and I'll pay for my food. You won't have to lift a finger for me," Harry replied, his voice steady, though inside, his heart was pounding. He'd been waiting for this moment—this one chance to take control, to stop being their punching bag. The Goblins had given him access to the Potter vault, and with it, the power he needed to turn the tables.
Petunia's face twisted into a mask of deep thought. Her eyes flickered between Harry and the empty stairs leading to the bedrooms. She wanted to say no—he could see that—but she was trapped, weighed down by the reality of their crumbling financial situation. After a tense, silent moment, her lips thinned into a tight line.
"Fine," she spat, though her voice wavered slightly. "But if you ever—"
"You hold up your end of the deal, and I'll hold up mine," Harry cut her off, his voice harder than she'd ever heard it. "I won't breathe a word. Not about the money, not about anything else." He looked her straight in the eye.
"Deal?"
For what felt like an eternity, they stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Then, finally, with a sharp jerk of her head, Petunia muttered through clenched teeth. "Deal."
Without another word, she turned on her heel, storming back into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hallway. He stood there for a moment, heart racing, his hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline, but a small, quiet sense of triumph flickered in his chest. For the first time in years, he had taken control, and he had done it without fear.
It wasn't much, but it was enough. And for now, that was all he needed.
That evening, Harry sat in his new room, now void of Dudley's obnoxious posters and clutter. He had cleaned it thoroughly, working tirelessly to make the space feel like his own. It wasn't much, but it was his, a vast improvement over the cupboard under the stairs. As he rested on the bed, he could still hear Dudley's whining echoing from downstairs, though it had been greatly pacified by the shiny new toy Petunia had bribed him with.
"Mum!" Dudley had wailed earlier, stomping his feet. "Why does he get my room? It's not fair! I want it back!"
Harry had stood at the top of the stairs, watching the scene unfold like a spectator at a play. Petunia had quickly intervened, her voice syrupy sweet as she dangled a brand-new toy truck in front of Dudley's eyes.
"Look what I bought you, Duddikins," she said, offering the toy. "See? A brand-new truck, just for you! All thanks to Harry's little... generosity."
Dudley's eyes lit up immediately. "Is it really for me?" he asked, already grabbing the toy from her hands. His earlier tantrum was forgotten in a flash.
Petunia smiled, patting his head.
"Yes, my darling boy. All yours. Now, no more tears, hmm?"
Dudley sniffed, clutching the truck to his chest as if he had won a great prize. Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes.
As Harry descended the stairs earlier to go to his new room, he passed by Vernon, who had been sulking in his armchair, grumbling about "that boy" and how ridiculous it was to give Dudley's room away.
But then Petunia, with that same sweet grin, had flashed the thick wad of cash Harry had handed over earlier. Vernon's eyes had widened, his grumbling turning into delighted surprise.
"Well, well," Vernon had chuckled, the sight of the money making his eyes gleam. "About time that boy did something right! Paying us back, eh? For all the years we've housed him. Finally getting some reward for being good citizens."
He turned toward Harry, giving him an appraising look for the first time. "Guess you're finally learning, aren't you, boy? Becoming a man and paying your debts."
Harry met Vernon's gaze, his expression neutral. "I'm just making sure we understand each other," he had said simply, holding back the bitter words that were burning on his tongue.
"Understand each other, eh?" Vernon chuckled again, shaking his head. "Good, good. Well, as long as you keep that money coming, we'll get along just fine."
Harry didn't bother responding. He knew Vernon's sudden change of tone had nothing to do with respect or decency. It was all about the money. That much was clear.
Later, after cleaning the room, Harry lay back on his new bed, finally able to relax. Downstairs, he could hear Dudley showing off his new truck to Petunia, and Vernon still muttering under his breath about how "the boy" had finally learned his place. But it didn't matter. Not anymore.
He had leverage now. The Dursleys could no longer treat him like dirt without consequence. And while they might never treat him kindly, at least he had carved out a small piece of control in this hostile environment.
He smiled to himself, remembering the deal he had made with Petunia earlier.
And so, here he was, lying in the room that was now his. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. For the first time in years, he felt like he had some control over his life. He didn't know what the future held, but for tonight, this small victory was enough.
Asha hissed softly in congratulations, a warm glint in her reptilian eyes. "You are truly an excellent negotiator, Harry," she said softly, pride shining in her eyes. "You've managed to turn a situation around that many would have thought impossible."
Kavi, always playful, chimed in with a laugh, "Yeah, I'm impressed. Who would've thought you could outsmart the Dursleys like that? Seriously, you nailed it."
Harry, though typically modest, couldn't help but feel a small surge of pride. This was the first time he had truly taken control of his own fate, and even though it was just the beginning, it meant a lot to him.
He thought to himself, "With this newfound peace, I'll finally have time to study my books. By the time I go to the magical school in two years, I'll be ready." His heart swelled with determination as he glanced at the books on magical medicine he had brought back with him. He envisioned his future—peace, knowledge, and becoming a healer.