Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This story is in no way meant to offend anyone and is purely to be comedic.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Thank you,
Fly x

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much, and Harry wondered if Mr Dursley knew that his first name, Vernon, actually had its origins in aristocratic France. Maybe the man was so angry all the time because his name was that of an elegant nobleman, yet he was stuck as a spluttering, moustached walrus of a man with a tendency to spit when he spoke. On the other hand, Vernon also took an innate and unreasonable dislike to anyone who was not from, as he put it, "My Great Britain!", so perhaps his persistent frustration with anything that moved came from the fact that his name originated anywhere that was not 'good ol' Surrey.'

Harry didn't consider himself much of an anxious person. That is, until he started thinking about it, then he started worrying about whether worrying about being anxious counted as being anxious, and thoroughly confused himself in the process.

"Up! Get up!"
Aunt Petunia rapped sharply on the door of the cupboard under the stairs, and Harry jumped violently, starting so suddenly that he whacked his head into the hollows of the stairs up above him, sending dust drifting down into his eyes.
"Damn it!" Harry whispered and tensed, in case his aunt had heard him. There was the banging around of saucepans in the kitchen, and another screech from Petunia.
"Are you up yet?! I need you to cook breakfast!"
Harry pushed open the door of the cupboard and crawled out, standing up and stretching his stiff muscles. His eyes were itchy from the dust, and he felt sick. He'd been dreaming about something dangerous, and he was glad he couldn't remember it.
"And mind not to burn the bacon!" Petunia snapped. "I want everything perfect for Dudders' day!"
Every day here is your darling Dudders' day, Harry thought angrily, and dread hit him in a massive way.

His cousin's birthday presented many problems, but there was one advantage that didn't completely make him hate the day, just dislike it heavily.
The issues were:
One, Dudley's friends.
Two, Dudley's friends.
Three, Dudley's-
Four, the boy would be even more spoilt and whiny than usual.
Five, his aunt and uncle would be even more pernickety and irritated than usual.

The advantage? He was going to the ZOO.
It was the first trip out to somewhere new he'd had out in at least a year, since the Year Six class outing to the local church for some 'sightseeing', and despite the risks of being attacked by an animal or touched by some sort of poisonous dart frog that could kill him by just brushing up against him-
Harry was looking forward to the outing to the zoo.

He was mulling over what animals there might be, and which ones he could maybe persuade to eat Dudley as he fried the bacon and eggs Petunia had slammed down on the counter, while she fussed around the two foot high stack of presents on the living room floor. It was idiotic, Harry thought, for the Dursley's to get Dudley such obviously expensive presents, only for him to smash them up two weeks later in a fit of rage, but it wasn't his money, obviously. If it was, he'd buy himself a pair of trousers weren't so big that they didn't flap around in the wind as he walked.

There was also a bike with a bow on it in leaning against the sofa, and Harry doubted Dudley would ever use it. He'd try to ride it if the Dursley's left him home alone, but he was sure that, considering his complete lack of experience on wheeled modes of transports, the risk of injury was high, and he already had one embarrassing scar to worry about.
The scar on his head was thin and lightning-bolt shaped, which he thought was kind of cool but could have been situated somewhere other than slap bang in the middle of his forehead. He pushed his glasses up his nose, wincing as the middle cracked a little more and the Sellotape clung to his finger.

Uncle Vernon squeezed his ample frame through the door to the kitchen and made a beeline straight for the set table for breakfast, without a second glance at Harry aside from, "For Pete's sake, boy, comb that hair!"

By the time Dudley came thundering down the stairs a few minutes later, Harry had finished frying the eggs and was filling the kettle for Vernon's second sugary coffee.
The blonde boy's chest was heaving with excitement (and probably, Harry thought, with exertion from walking down the stairs), and his face was bright red as he rushed straight over to his gifts without a hello to his parents and immediately started counting them.
"Thirty, thirty two, I mean, thirty two, thirty three, thirty…thirty four, thirty five, thirty…"
He looked up at nervous mother's face with a scowl. "Thirty six! That's two less than last year! Why didn't you get me the same as last year?"
Harry busied himself with getting the milk out of the fridge to avoid being the target of anyone's anger.
"Oh, but darling, darling, listen to Mummy," Petunia tried desperately to appease him, looking upset, while Vernon smirked at the scene with air of almost appreciation. "You forgot Aunt Marge's present, you know, and I forgot to tell you we're going to get you something at the zoo, remember? So that will be…"
"Thirty…thirty…"
"Thirty eight, popkin."
Harry had never thought of Dudley as more of a toddler than in that moment.

Dudley plonked his backside down on the ugly beige carpet and started ripping open his gifts, with the same look on his face Harry had seen on his uncle's when he tucked into liver and kidney with chips and brown sauce. (Both were as equally repulsive.)
As Dudley's gift pile grew in height behind him, Harry stared down at the digital watch his cousin had tossed away in disgust and considered how long Uncle Vernon would lock him in the cupboard for if he took it. Disappointingly for him, a few moments and a remote control car later, the doorbell rang, and Petunia rushed out to greet Dudley's friend, so the opportunity was lost.

The drive to the zoo felt longer than it was, and Harry wasn't sure that was because he was being continuously poked in the side by Pier's pointy elbow or because he was calculating all the different ways he could die in a car crash if Vernon went crazy from too much caffeine and ploughed off the motorway into a wall.

After paying the entrance fee, the Dursley family plus a bored and uninterested Piers and a nervously excited Harry pushed through the crowded zoo and started their way past the exhibits. Piers and Dudley were pushing and shoving each other, sniggering about something, Vernon was ranting to Petunia about 'Bloody Terry in Human Relations, thinks me saying I know better than my assistant is inappropriate? I'll show him inappropriate when I shove his bloody face in!", and Harry, hovering happily around the cages. He peered through the dirty glass to try and find the tapir that was supposed to be in the cage in front of the Reptile House, at once curious and overly aware of the size of tapirs and what could happen if one charged the glass and caused a stampede. He could be crushed under the crowd's panicked feet as they ran away from the weird-looking rodent thing! Zoos were dangerous places.

On Dudley's insistence, they went into the Reptile House, where "the only real animals are!" This statement to Harry seemed similar to Vernon's mantra that real men own sports cars, a phrase he was sure Vernon would have tattooed across his chest if he didn't believe tattoos were for circus freaks and drunks.
It was cooler in the Reptile House, dimly lit, and for a second Harry's eyes were dazzled by the sudden lack of sunshine.
"Dad! Look at this!"
Dudley hollered at his father at the top of his lungs, earning disapproving glares from the other people in the exhibit and making Harry flush, exceedingly uncomfortable with the extra attention coming his way. People stared at his scar enough.

Dudley had his meaty little hands pressed up against the cage of the largest snake in the place, the Boa constrictor, and slammed his fist against the glass impatiently.
"Move!"
The snake, obviously ignorant to the little brat's wants, stayed asleep, coiled up in a circle. "This is boring." Dudley stropped, and stomped off to go and annoy the other reptiles. Harry stayed there, staring at the snake, which opened its eyes and looked directly at him.
"You know, boa constrictors can eat pigs whole." Harry mumbled. "But I doubt they're feeding you any pigs." He grinned. "Maybe you could eat Dudley."
The snake winked.
Blinking furiously, Harry tried to convince himself that one-eyed blinks were something that snakes did all the time, that it was the new cool thing for snakes to do, and that this snake had to do it or the other reptiles in the Reptile House would swarm his cage and destroy him.

"Snakes don't wink." Harry muttered to himself. "Snakes are dangerous predators. A Boa constrictor could squeeze me so tightly it would crush my oesophagus. They don't wink."
The snake winked again.

It was then, for want of a better phrase, that Harry lost his shit.