The Storm)
On this day of July 27, Number four Privet Drive stood still and serene, barely affected by the unsettling winds whipping across its freshly painted and glazed structure. The rains poured heavily down upon the house, filling its recently cleaned gutters with the vigilant moisture of the sky. If colors conveyed emotions, the sky would be an unquestionable sad case, for its face frowned of dark grays. Its body was slowly transforming into a funnel shape, indicating that a tornado was on the way.
Inside the house, sat three quiet people, a man, a woman, and a fat child, who were obviously greatly displaced by the storm outside. They were used to hot summers where the only worry was if one wore sun block or not. They were not used to the whistling and hard winds beating upon their beautiful house and moods.
"I wonder what's going to happen mom," the fat child said.
"Don't worry duddle-dudd-luddeykins, the storm will pass before dinner's over," explained Dudley's mom.
"Don't give me that crap woman. Who could even think about eating while there's a monster about to tear into our house and into us," replied Dudley with a very frightened face.
Out of nowhere came a reply.
"What, no, no, I could not have just heard what I think I just heard. Did you just say 'how could anyone think about eating?', 'cause if you did, we need to have more tornadoes. Maybe then you could lose all of that dead weight you carry you fat oaf," said a boy, sitting in the shadows against a cold wall. Harry Potter was now rolling on the ground snorting laughter into the beige carpet. Harry was still mad about Dudley punching him in the face earlier that day for beating him in a game of Monopoly. Dudley's face was now growing hot with rage; his cheeks and nose were now swelling with anger just like his Pops'. Dudley jumped up from his classic couch and was ready to punch Harry again when his dear old Dad saved him the trouble.
"Harry, how dare you gather the nerve to insult the finer people in life, like Dudley. Who do you think you are? One more word and I promise I'll strangle the bloody life out of you. You have already been chewing on my last nerve since you enrolled in that damned school of weirdness," huffed Harry's Uncle Vernon.
"Did you mean Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Uncle V?" asked Harry with a sort of feigned befuddled look on his face, followed by a slight smirk. Harry knew that he had just touched a nerve with his Uncle and he was happy that he had. He was hoping that his Aunt and Uncle would become so annoyed with him that they would kick him out of the house. Then he would be able to stay at Grimmauld Place until school started in the fall. That would mean that he would never have to set foot back into the Dursley's home again since he would be graduating that year. Harry was extremely excited about the thought of finding a new place to live after graduation. He was not really sure where that would be exactly, but he knew that he was not going to return to his Aunt and Uncle's.
"Now that's it boy, march yourself upstairs to your room," now it was Harry's Uncle that wore the smirk. Dudley's face contorted into one of a pig's as he shrieked with excitement at this last comment of his father's. Uncle Vernon sat on the burgundy couch, rapping his fingers against the patterned armrest watching his nephew, Harry. Aunt Petunia stood up from the sofa, walked over to the living room window and craned her neck into the curtains, the same way she always did when listening for neighborly gossip, in order to look out onto the storm. She shook her head as if there was a spider trapped in her hair.
"Vernon, I am also very displeased with Harry's rudeness but, you can't possibly send him upstairs. It's too dangerous. You know what the weatherman on the radio said before the signal was lost; he said that everyone should move to the lowest level of their house in order to be safest from the oncoming tornado," said Harry's Aunt Petunia with a worried look on her face until she scowled at her nephew. Harry thought that her Aunt must be remembering the promise that she made to Dumbledore that she would shelter him and try to keep him safe from outside harm.
"Hummph, I know exactly what the weatherman said, and actually I believe that every word he spoke was true. Therefore knowing this, I am sending Harry upstairs; I would actually send him outside if I was not afraid of opening the door and allowing for a cascade of wind and rain to disturb the aesthetic equilibrium of our well-kept house. I could care less if after this storm, I was blessed with never having to hear another word from this ungrateful little weird boy," replied Vernon to his wife. "Now, that being clear, I'll give Harry a choice, he can either sit there and shut his trap or he can march right on upstairs and fight the tornado with that abracadabra mess of his, my money being on the storm," said Vernon.
"Whatever," sighed Harry as he slunk back onto the uninviting and uncomfortable wall; he had not even tried to sit on the couch for he knew he would be forced to move. He was really starting to get mad at his family. In his opinion, they just liked to hate him for no reason. He was not fooled by his Aunt taking up for him because he knew that she was not looking out for him but for her prized reputation. Harry felt that if the neighbors ever found out about their nephew being left at the top of a house during that storm, they would never be able to live it down, let alone show their face outside.
"GET UPSTAIRS NOW BOY! I'M TIRED OF YOUR FILTHY LITTLE MOUTH. LEAVE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I SEND YOU OUTSIDE," exclaimed Harry's uncle, who was now clutching the couch arm with very red knuckles. Dudley made little pointing fingers toward the top of the stairs in order to taunt his cousin, while doing a little jig. This was probably the most exercise he had gotten the entire day.
Harry began to trudge upstairs. Fear of being strangled by his Uncle kept him from protesting his punishment; without his magic, Harry knew that he was no match for the beefy man downstairs. Harry thought that his Uncle might kick him out of the house for being an annoying prat, but never did he think that he would be sent to his possible death. Harry slowly walked up the squeaking wooden stairs, pausing at the final one to let a tear roll down his cheek. He was really ready to rejoin his friends at school and escape the drama that plagued his miserable excuse of a family. Harry then silently walked to his room, and closed the door behind him.
The hall outside Harry's door was long, dark, and silent despite the catastrophe going on outside. Family pictures, of course excluding Harry, stood framed on the cold walls. Not one was set at a skewed angle; they all stood straight, resolute, and dust-free upon the sturdy wall. Inside of Harry's room was a little less order. In one corner was a stack of books, surrounded by loose papers which used to be bound reports on potion mixes, famous transfigurations, as well as elixir ingredients. Hedwig's cage was hung near Harry's window, and Hedwig was flying around the room hooting every time she went near the window to witness the storm. Harry was sitting on his unmade bed trying to calculate the amount of danger he was in.
"Hedwig, I guess this is goodbye my friend. I'm not sure if we're going to make it out of this predicament. In fact, I suggest that if you think you can fly fast enough that you try and save yourself. Here, I'll open the window and you should try and fly east as fast as you can if you know what's best for you. I'll miss you but it's the only way," Harry told his owl. Hedwig did not approach the window but settled upon Harry's shoulder. "You're such a loyal bird Hedwig, but I don't want you to die with me just out of loyalty. I want you to live even if I don't," explained Harry. Yet Hedwig failed to budge off of Harry's shoulder. "I don't want to do this the hard way Hedwig, you're going to live whether you want to or not."
At this point Harry walked to his window and tried with all of his might to open it against the pressure of the storm. After much stress on his broadening shoulders, he managed to open the glass, moving on to the next task of prying Hedwig's claws off of his shoulder. While struggling with the owl, Harry suddenly heard his Uncle screaming from the foot of the stairs.
"HARRY, get downstairs now." Harry lackadaisically closed the window and carried Hedwig down the steps with him on his shoulder. When he finally reached the bottom, he saw his Uncle staring at him. His Uncle scowled when he saw the owl, but he chose not to say anything about it.
"Harry," said his Uncle Vernon, "I'm only going to ask you this once, do you know of any of those uhh magical uhhh what-are-those-thingies, uhh spells that could protect our house from the storm?"
"Hunh, you want me to use a spell?" asked Harry with the most surprised face he had ever worn. He saw his cousin and Aunt peering around the corner of the wall with hopeful yet scared faces. A loud crack and BOOM of thunder shook the house and everyone in it.
"You heard me, yes and quick if you know what's good for you. I figure you might as well use that weird education of yours for some type of good. So do you?" replied his Uncle. Uncle Vernon's face was tomato red at this point. Harry could tell that this was taking so much out of his Uncle to ask him this.
"Ummm, I don't know any specific storm-repellant spells and even if I did, I could not use it outside of school. Magic usage is restricted for underage wizards outside of the academic year. Although I do know one general spell, I don't know if it would work on the entire house even if I could use it," explained Harry, while fidgeting his fingers behind his back. He was still trying to process the shock of his Uncle asking him to use the very thing he hated, under his roof, or for his roof actually. Harry saw his Uncle begin to look very agitated.
"If you know of any type of spell to use, USE IT, because we are about to be killed dammit," screamed his Uncle.
"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon, but I cannot risk getting expelled. I have already used too much magic outside of school. I would surely never be allowed to go back to Hog-I mean school if I use magic again," said Harry to his Uncle.
"DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT I CARE IF YOU GET EXPLELLED FROM THAT SCHOOL OF YOURS? REALITY CHECK, I DON'T SO GO UPSTAIRS, GET THAT STICK OF YOURS AND USE THAT SPELL," frantically yelled his Uncle as the whistling outside got louder.
Harry ran upstairs to his room and got his wand. He usually would have continued to resist his Uncle's wishes, however he really wanted to try and survive the night as well. He actually was wondering why he didn't think of the idea earlier while he was calculating the chance of him surviving the night. Harry ran downstairs once more and began to approach the front door.
"What are you doing Harry?" asked his Aunt Petunia. "Don't open the door, you'll let the entire storm into our house."
"I have to go outside to use the spell. It won't work inside the house," explained Harry. He saw his Uncle along with his cousin rounding the corner down the hall. His
Uncle had a you're-not-going-to-do-that look on his face, so Harry hurried and opened the door before his Uncle could reach him. He shut the door behind him and began to try and work his way a few feet away from the house against the strong winds. Rain and heavy hail was beating down upon him as he struggled to move closer to the mailbox. There was no way that Hedwig would have been able to fly in this weather thought Harry to himself. He then wondered if Hedwig was refusing to fly away in order to be loyal to him or to protect her own skin. Harry giggled a little to himself.
Once standing around twenty feet away from the house Harry raised his wand and shouted out the spell that he hoped would be enough to protect the house from the oncoming wind machine.
"IMPERVIOUSO," shouted Harry. He saw an oily transparent layer form around the entire house. Good, thought Harry to himself. "It worked," exclaimed Harry, "I can't believe it." Harry quickly made his way back to the house, narrowly missing slipping on a huge puddle of rain.
Harry attempted to open the front door, but it didn't budge. He figured that maybe the door automatically locked when he closed the door on his way out there.
"ALOHAMORA," shouted Harry, pointing his wand at the doorknob, however the doorknob did not unlock. And then Harry remembered what spell he used. Of course I can't use the unlocking spell on the house I just shielded, thought Harry. Harry peered into the window by the front door, however all he could see was patterned burgundy stripes. Harry began to rap on the window, hoping that someone would open the door for him. A minute later, Harry's Uncle peered through the curtains with an unreadable expression on his face.
"You have to open the door," shouted Harry through the window. Although it was loudly storming outside, Harry could hear the loud "Hummph" that his Uncle gave before he slowly closed back the curtains, leaving a slight crack in the curtains where Harry could look into the house. He saw his Aunt walk into the area and ask Vernon something, although he could not hear what she asked. He then saw his Uncle shrug his massive shoulders and mouth something.
Inside the house, Petunia shuffled into the kitchen, where she asked her husband about Harry's whereabouts. Vernon twiddled his thumbs, and replied to his wife.
"I don't know where Harry is. He probably magicked himself somewhere else after he did whatever he did to this house," said Harry's Uncle, who happened to look very shaken about his momentary acceptance of magic.
Harry's face grew hot, despite the cold of the storm as he saw his Aunt and Uncle walk out of the vicinity. He had just witnessed his Uncle abandon him outside right after he had just saved their skin. He could not believe it. I know that my Uncle could not hate me that much, I mean what type of family do I have, Harry thought to himself.
At that moment, a jolt went through Harry's stomach as he realized that he was not going to be able to get back into the house. Gazing into the sky, rain and hail bombarded Harry's glasses and somehow managed to cascade upon his eyes as well. Harry saw the funnel shaped cloud up the street, slowly making its way to number four Privet Drive. He knew that he had to seek shelter and fast before he was not even able to become expelled from school. Harry started to run down the street. Pitter. Patter. Split. Splat. Puddles of water all seemed to form just for Harry to slide in. Once, while frantically jumping over a stray box in the street, Harry's glasses dislodged themselves from the bridge of his nose, causing Harry to search blindly in the street for them. His hands tightly gripped the concrete, water cascaded over his fingers as he looked into the sky to view the oncoming storm. He crawled on all fours, with his wand tucked into the waist of his jeans, feeling for his glasses since the rain was too much for him to use his eyes. Once he found them, he realized that he was going to die. The tornado was coming right for him. "Run. Don't give up, you will live," said a womanly voice in his head. Harry didn't even stop to think about the speaker but immediately set his calves into gear. He began to race through the park where he often saw his cousin beating up innocent kids, and around the corner, and then up the street, where he suddenly came to a halt in front of a house. He skipped up the front porch steps to the patio door with his wand out, feebly shouted Imperviouso, and began to loudly knock on the door.
"Help, let me in, let me in," shouted Harry as he pounded upon the door.
At that moment, the door flung open and a woman swept down upon Harry to give him a hug.
"There's no time to hug me now, I have to get-get inside before it's too late," exclaimed Harry.
His secret guardian smiled upon him and let him in the house. After she closed the door, the smell of cats and cinnamon wafted into Harry's nose, as he plopped down upon one of Arabella Figg's squashy orange sofas.
On this day of July 27, Number four Privet Drive stood still and serene, barely affected by the unsettling winds whipping across its freshly painted and glazed structure. The rains poured heavily down upon the house, filling its recently cleaned gutters with the vigilant moisture of the sky. If colors conveyed emotions, the sky would be an unquestionable sad case, for its face frowned of dark grays. Its body was slowly transforming into a funnel shape, indicating that a tornado was on the way.
Inside the house, sat three quiet people, a man, a woman, and a fat child, who were obviously greatly displaced by the storm outside. They were used to hot summers where the only worry was if one wore sun block or not. They were not used to the whistling and hard winds beating upon their beautiful house and moods.
"I wonder what's going to happen mom," the fat child said.
"Don't worry duddle-dudd-luddeykins, the storm will pass before dinner's over," explained Dudley's mom.
"Don't give me that crap woman. Who could even think about eating while there's a monster about to tear into our house and into us," replied Dudley with a very frightened face.
Out of nowhere came a reply.
"What, no, no, I could not have just heard what I think I just heard. Did you just say 'how could anyone think about eating?', 'cause if you did, we need to have more tornadoes. Maybe then you could lose all of that dead weight you carry you fat oaf," said a boy, sitting in the shadows against a cold wall. Harry Potter was now rolling on the ground snorting laughter into the beige carpet. Harry was still mad about Dudley punching him in the face earlier that day for beating him in a game of Monopoly. Dudley's face was now growing hot with rage; his cheeks and nose were now swelling with anger just like his Pops'. Dudley jumped up from his classic couch and was ready to punch Harry again when his dear old Dad saved him the trouble.
"Harry, how dare you gather the nerve to insult the finer people in life, like Dudley. Who do you think you are? One more word and I promise I'll strangle the bloody life out of you. You have already been chewing on my last nerve since you enrolled in that damned school of weirdness," huffed Harry's Uncle Vernon.
"Did you mean Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Uncle V?" asked Harry with a sort of feigned befuddled look on his face, followed by a slight smirk. Harry knew that he had just touched a nerve with his Uncle and he was happy that he had. He was hoping that his Aunt and Uncle would become so annoyed with him that they would kick him out of the house. Then he would be able to stay at Grimmauld Place until school started in the fall. That would mean that he would never have to set foot back into the Dursley's home again since he would be graduating that year. Harry was extremely excited about the thought of finding a new place to live after graduation. He was not really sure where that would be exactly, but he knew that he was not going to return to his Aunt and Uncle's.
"Now that's it boy, march yourself upstairs to your room," now it was Harry's Uncle that wore the smirk. Dudley's face contorted into one of a pig's as he shrieked with excitement at this last comment of his father's. Uncle Vernon sat on the burgundy couch, rapping his fingers against the patterned armrest watching his nephew, Harry. Aunt Petunia stood up from the sofa, walked over to the living room window and craned her neck into the curtains, the same way she always did when listening for neighborly gossip, in order to look out onto the storm. She shook her head as if there was a spider trapped in her hair.
"Vernon, I am also very displeased with Harry's rudeness but, you can't possibly send him upstairs. It's too dangerous. You know what the weatherman on the radio said before the signal was lost; he said that everyone should move to the lowest level of their house in order to be safest from the oncoming tornado," said Harry's Aunt Petunia with a worried look on her face until she scowled at her nephew. Harry thought that her Aunt must be remembering the promise that she made to Dumbledore that she would shelter him and try to keep him safe from outside harm.
"Hummph, I know exactly what the weatherman said, and actually I believe that every word he spoke was true. Therefore knowing this, I am sending Harry upstairs; I would actually send him outside if I was not afraid of opening the door and allowing for a cascade of wind and rain to disturb the aesthetic equilibrium of our well-kept house. I could care less if after this storm, I was blessed with never having to hear another word from this ungrateful little weird boy," replied Vernon to his wife. "Now, that being clear, I'll give Harry a choice, he can either sit there and shut his trap or he can march right on upstairs and fight the tornado with that abracadabra mess of his, my money being on the storm," said Vernon.
"Whatever," sighed Harry as he slunk back onto the uninviting and uncomfortable wall; he had not even tried to sit on the couch for he knew he would be forced to move. He was really starting to get mad at his family. In his opinion, they just liked to hate him for no reason. He was not fooled by his Aunt taking up for him because he knew that she was not looking out for him but for her prized reputation. Harry felt that if the neighbors ever found out about their nephew being left at the top of a house during that storm, they would never be able to live it down, let alone show their face outside.
"GET UPSTAIRS NOW BOY! I'M TIRED OF YOUR FILTHY LITTLE MOUTH. LEAVE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I SEND YOU OUTSIDE," exclaimed Harry's uncle, who was now clutching the couch arm with very red knuckles. Dudley made little pointing fingers toward the top of the stairs in order to taunt his cousin, while doing a little jig. This was probably the most exercise he had gotten the entire day.
Harry began to trudge upstairs. Fear of being strangled by his Uncle kept him from protesting his punishment; without his magic, Harry knew that he was no match for the beefy man downstairs. Harry thought that his Uncle might kick him out of the house for being an annoying prat, but never did he think that he would be sent to his possible death. Harry slowly walked up the squeaking wooden stairs, pausing at the final one to let a tear roll down his cheek. He was really ready to rejoin his friends at school and escape the drama that plagued his miserable excuse of a family. Harry then silently walked to his room, and closed the door behind him.
The hall outside Harry's door was long, dark, and silent despite the catastrophe going on outside. Family pictures, of course excluding Harry, stood framed on the cold walls. Not one was set at a skewed angle; they all stood straight, resolute, and dust-free upon the sturdy wall. Inside of Harry's room was a little less order. In one corner was a stack of books, surrounded by loose papers which used to be bound reports on potion mixes, famous transfigurations, as well as elixir ingredients. Hedwig's cage was hung near Harry's window, and Hedwig was flying around the room hooting every time she went near the window to witness the storm. Harry was sitting on his unmade bed trying to calculate the amount of danger he was in.
"Hedwig, I guess this is goodbye my friend. I'm not sure if we're going to make it out of this predicament. In fact, I suggest that if you think you can fly fast enough that you try and save yourself. Here, I'll open the window and you should try and fly east as fast as you can if you know what's best for you. I'll miss you but it's the only way," Harry told his owl. Hedwig did not approach the window but settled upon Harry's shoulder. "You're such a loyal bird Hedwig, but I don't want you to die with me just out of loyalty. I want you to live even if I don't," explained Harry. Yet Hedwig failed to budge off of Harry's shoulder. "I don't want to do this the hard way Hedwig, you're going to live whether you want to or not."
At this point Harry walked to his window and tried with all of his might to open it against the pressure of the storm. After much stress on his broadening shoulders, he managed to open the glass, moving on to the next task of prying Hedwig's claws off of his shoulder. While struggling with the owl, Harry suddenly heard his Uncle screaming from the foot of the stairs.
"HARRY, get downstairs now." Harry lackadaisically closed the window and carried Hedwig down the steps with him on his shoulder. When he finally reached the bottom, he saw his Uncle staring at him. His Uncle scowled when he saw the owl, but he chose not to say anything about it.
"Harry," said his Uncle Vernon, "I'm only going to ask you this once, do you know of any of those uhh magical uhhh what-are-those-thingies, uhh spells that could protect our house from the storm?"
"Hunh, you want me to use a spell?" asked Harry with the most surprised face he had ever worn. He saw his cousin and Aunt peering around the corner of the wall with hopeful yet scared faces. A loud crack and BOOM of thunder shook the house and everyone in it.
"You heard me, yes and quick if you know what's good for you. I figure you might as well use that weird education of yours for some type of good. So do you?" replied his Uncle. Uncle Vernon's face was tomato red at this point. Harry could tell that this was taking so much out of his Uncle to ask him this.
"Ummm, I don't know any specific storm-repellant spells and even if I did, I could not use it outside of school. Magic usage is restricted for underage wizards outside of the academic year. Although I do know one general spell, I don't know if it would work on the entire house even if I could use it," explained Harry, while fidgeting his fingers behind his back. He was still trying to process the shock of his Uncle asking him to use the very thing he hated, under his roof, or for his roof actually. Harry saw his Uncle begin to look very agitated.
"If you know of any type of spell to use, USE IT, because we are about to be killed dammit," screamed his Uncle.
"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon, but I cannot risk getting expelled. I have already used too much magic outside of school. I would surely never be allowed to go back to Hog-I mean school if I use magic again," said Harry to his Uncle.
"DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT I CARE IF YOU GET EXPLELLED FROM THAT SCHOOL OF YOURS? REALITY CHECK, I DON'T SO GO UPSTAIRS, GET THAT STICK OF YOURS AND USE THAT SPELL," frantically yelled his Uncle as the whistling outside got louder.
Harry ran upstairs to his room and got his wand. He usually would have continued to resist his Uncle's wishes, however he really wanted to try and survive the night as well. He actually was wondering why he didn't think of the idea earlier while he was calculating the chance of him surviving the night. Harry ran downstairs once more and began to approach the front door.
"What are you doing Harry?" asked his Aunt Petunia. "Don't open the door, you'll let the entire storm into our house."
"I have to go outside to use the spell. It won't work inside the house," explained Harry. He saw his Uncle along with his cousin rounding the corner down the hall. His
Uncle had a you're-not-going-to-do-that look on his face, so Harry hurried and opened the door before his Uncle could reach him. He shut the door behind him and began to try and work his way a few feet away from the house against the strong winds. Rain and heavy hail was beating down upon him as he struggled to move closer to the mailbox. There was no way that Hedwig would have been able to fly in this weather thought Harry to himself. He then wondered if Hedwig was refusing to fly away in order to be loyal to him or to protect her own skin. Harry giggled a little to himself.
Once standing around twenty feet away from the house Harry raised his wand and shouted out the spell that he hoped would be enough to protect the house from the oncoming wind machine.
"IMPERVIOUSO," shouted Harry. He saw an oily transparent layer form around the entire house. Good, thought Harry to himself. "It worked," exclaimed Harry, "I can't believe it." Harry quickly made his way back to the house, narrowly missing slipping on a huge puddle of rain.
Harry attempted to open the front door, but it didn't budge. He figured that maybe the door automatically locked when he closed the door on his way out there.
"ALOHAMORA," shouted Harry, pointing his wand at the doorknob, however the doorknob did not unlock. And then Harry remembered what spell he used. Of course I can't use the unlocking spell on the house I just shielded, thought Harry. Harry peered into the window by the front door, however all he could see was patterned burgundy stripes. Harry began to rap on the window, hoping that someone would open the door for him. A minute later, Harry's Uncle peered through the curtains with an unreadable expression on his face.
"You have to open the door," shouted Harry through the window. Although it was loudly storming outside, Harry could hear the loud "Hummph" that his Uncle gave before he slowly closed back the curtains, leaving a slight crack in the curtains where Harry could look into the house. He saw his Aunt walk into the area and ask Vernon something, although he could not hear what she asked. He then saw his Uncle shrug his massive shoulders and mouth something.
Inside the house, Petunia shuffled into the kitchen, where she asked her husband about Harry's whereabouts. Vernon twiddled his thumbs, and replied to his wife.
"I don't know where Harry is. He probably magicked himself somewhere else after he did whatever he did to this house," said Harry's Uncle, who happened to look very shaken about his momentary acceptance of magic.
Harry's face grew hot, despite the cold of the storm as he saw his Aunt and Uncle walk out of the vicinity. He had just witnessed his Uncle abandon him outside right after he had just saved their skin. He could not believe it. I know that my Uncle could not hate me that much, I mean what type of family do I have, Harry thought to himself.
At that moment, a jolt went through Harry's stomach as he realized that he was not going to be able to get back into the house. Gazing into the sky, rain and hail bombarded Harry's glasses and somehow managed to cascade upon his eyes as well. Harry saw the funnel shaped cloud up the street, slowly making its way to number four Privet Drive. He knew that he had to seek shelter and fast before he was not even able to become expelled from school. Harry started to run down the street. Pitter. Patter. Split. Splat. Puddles of water all seemed to form just for Harry to slide in. Once, while frantically jumping over a stray box in the street, Harry's glasses dislodged themselves from the bridge of his nose, causing Harry to search blindly in the street for them. His hands tightly gripped the concrete, water cascaded over his fingers as he looked into the sky to view the oncoming storm. He crawled on all fours, with his wand tucked into the waist of his jeans, feeling for his glasses since the rain was too much for him to use his eyes. Once he found them, he realized that he was going to die. The tornado was coming right for him. "Run. Don't give up, you will live," said a womanly voice in his head. Harry didn't even stop to think about the speaker but immediately set his calves into gear. He began to race through the park where he often saw his cousin beating up innocent kids, and around the corner, and then up the street, where he suddenly came to a halt in front of a house. He skipped up the front porch steps to the patio door with his wand out, feebly shouted Imperviouso, and began to loudly knock on the door.
"Help, let me in, let me in," shouted Harry as he pounded upon the door.
At that moment, the door flung open and a woman swept down upon Harry to give him a hug.
"There's no time to hug me now, I have to get-get inside before it's too late," exclaimed Harry.
His secret guardian smiled upon him and let him in the house. After she closed the door, the smell of cats and cinnamon wafted into Harry's nose, as he plopped down upon one of Arabella Figg's squashy orange sofas.