We've Nowhere Else to Go
A short, over the top, flip on the wizarding world chasing down Harry - meant as humor for being opposite.
They waited in the dark.
A rocky jut of an island, off a craggy coast, afforded the last vestige of hope. The wind howled like the abyss claiming a much-deserving soul. Rain thrashed the windows with unrelenting vigor. Lighting cackled and thunder roared.
"Uncle Vernon, will they find us here?" A shaky voice squeaked. It was Harry Potter behind an upturned table. His cousin Dudley was with him. Both waited with their backs against the table. Both shook in fits of fear,
"I don't know Harry," said a stout, sturdy man on the stairway and lying in ambush of the door. He was Vernon Dursley; husband, father, and uncle. He held a double-barrel shotgun at the ready. His jaw was set with firm resolve.
"Mother," I'm scared," said Dudley.
"We must be brave," said a quivering voice behind Vernon. The strain wore on Petunia, who had held her family together on this tight line chase between life and the unthinkable. "We are…," she faltered and took a breath, "We are fierce, and we will conduct ourselves as such."
"Yes, ma'am," said Dudley.
The minutes ticked away like hours as the raging storm bolstered its fury.
Vernon scanned the darkness. He couldn't see the children but he knew they were there, near to him, as they had been when the first of the letters arrived; when Harry Potter's letter arrived, and it was clear his dear family was being watched.
Witches and wizards were real. They lived in a shadow world, watching, waiting, and plucking away the unwary for purposes, no doubt, most foul.
Without warning, the door boomed and broke free from its hinges. It was heavy oak, bound in steel plating, and it slammed to the floor like a child's play toy. A great giant of a man, stepped through, silhouetted in lightning strokes. His name was Hagrid. He was "Keeper of Keys" but no door, locked or otherwise, could ever hold him at bay.
"I am armed sir! Come no further!" shouted Vernon over the howling wind and rain that filled the small room. Fear paralyzed him as his finger twitched on both triggers of the shotgun, but could do no more.
The giant stepped closer, ever closer. His great footfalls reverberated through the floor.
"Shoot him, Vernon," cried Petunia. "Shoot him!"
Vernon waged a war in his mind. His wife, the children, his own worthless life hung in the balance and he could not master the fear that checked his hand. "Vernon, they will take him if you do not stop them," the desperate voice of Petunia echoed inside his head. "Don't let them take Harry!"
"Vernon…please!" cried Petunia.
Vernon gritted his teeth and pulled the triggers just as the great man-beast took hold of the gun barrels and twisted them upwards. Both barrels roared and flashed with fire and smoke which did nothing but blast apart the ceiling above.
"For Little Whinging!" shouted Dudley as he charged out from behind the table. He crossed the small room with the agility of a gazelle, which could not have been expected owing to the child's large size. He struck the giant on the back with a broken chair leg, again and again, but with no effect.
The Giant turned towards Dudley.
Petunia, from behind Vernon, swung wide of her husband, and brought a cast iron frying pan down on Hagrid's head. After a resounding thud, her best pan was left with its handle bent at a right angle.
"That is enough!" roared the giant.
Dudley stumbled backwards. Vernon backed into Petunia who was pushed back against the wall.
Harry stepped out from behind the table and eyed the door. A quick sprint through it might draw the giant away from his family. A quick sprint might save the Dursleys but at what cost? His Life? His freedom?
As if reading Harry's mind, the giant turned in place, lifted up the door, and pushed it back into its frame. Harry's escape was gone as fast as the thought had arisen. Still, they were on an island. Capture might have been delayed but not prevented.
"What were you thinking, you great muggle oaf," growled Hagrid as he faced back to Vernon.
Of the Dursleys and Harry, none knew what a muggle was, but the large fellow scraping his head on the ceiling rafters looked more of an oaf than any of them.
Hagrid produced an umbrella from the folds of his shirt and aimed it at the nearby fireplace. He gave it a light shake which caused sparks to leap from the end, into the hearth, and set ablaze the small huddle of blackened logs.
"None of this has gone to plan," said Hagrid in frustration. He gave a sigh then forced a smile as he turned back to Dudley. "Look Harry, it's your birthday. I baked you a cake."
"A cake? What kind of sick joke…" began Petunia but Hagrid gave her a look that could have iced the blood in her veins. Her words failed and the question was left unfinished.
"I'm not Harry," said Dudley in a stuttering voice as he took a further step back. He kept the broken chair leg between him and the giant but was well aware how useless it was.
"I am…" said Harry with a deep gulp as he stepped from the shadows and into the light of the fire. "I am Harry Potter."
Harry left with the giant to save his uncle, his aunt, and his dear cousin. Yes, one of these wizards murdered his mother and father, and he could expect the same for himself. No doubt this Hagrid-beast was their leader by shear brute force alone, but he, Harry, would survive, escape, and one day he would return.
"I love you…" Harry mouthed as he looked back upon his aunt and uncle, framed in the doorway.
Vernon nodded his understanding, "I love you my boy," he said silently as a tear loosed from the corner of his eye.
Petunia fell to her knees in grief.
Dudley ate Harry's birthday cake.
The end.