Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is indeed the great creator of all these
characters, and some of the plot. I hope you guys like it, but thank her as
well!
CHAPTER ONE: DUDLEY'S BIRTHDAY
Harry woke up happy. This was an unusual occurrence, but today he had his reasons. It was none other than Dudley's birthday. Confused? The whole Dursley family was when he entered the kitchen. Dudley was sitting amongst 40 colorful wrapped presents. One of them was as large as the kitchen table, a giant orange box.
"Can I at least open one? Mom? Come on..." Dudley whined.
"Now Dudders, I've already told you, not until you finish you special birthday breakfast."
Harry was in such a good mood because it was the day of the year in which their haltered for Harry stood out most, but because the whole family was going to a roller coaster park. The whole family being Dudley, Petunia and Vernon. Harry however was going to be spending the first afternoon with Mrs. Figg since he'd found out she was a squib. Ron and Hermione had promised that they would be there.
Breakfast was being served in the dining room, seeing as there was not an inch of space left on the kitchen table. Dudley was lead away from his gifts. It was obvious he has using all his self-control not to throw a tantrum. Harry stood watching Dudley, then moved back towards the pile of presents. Uncle Vernon, who was carrying the bacon to the dining room, said, "Don't even think about touching them, boy," as he passed. From the other room Harry could here Dudley trying to persuade his mother to let him open just a few of the presents before he ate.
"Would you like us to take them back?" Vernon snapped, immediately regretting it. A moment later Aunt Petunia was bustling into the kitchen with a plate of ignited bacon. Clearly distressed by the amount of money they had spent on the gifts for their dear son, Mr. And Mrs. Dursley were quick to anger this morning.
"Why didn't you make sure they were safe before you brought them to the table?" Petunia said.
"It wasn't my fault," Harry's uncle replied as he ran the bacon under water, "Clearly Harry used some of his..." he hushed his voice so low they could barely hear him, "you-know-what."
At this remark Harry was shoved out the door and pointed in the direction of Mrs. Figg's house. On the short walk there Harry let his mind wander. He had seen the plate of bacon his uncle had cooked for Dudley... and it certainly didn't seem like it could catch fire. Having caused similar things himself when angry and frustrated he was sure that it must have been magic. But who in his house was a wizard beside himself. Who could cause a plate of bacon to re-cook itself? Then it hit him. Petunia must have made it explode into flames by accident. Her sister was a witch... why couldn't she be one. She had never spoken of her education...
He had reached Mrs. Figg's front door. Deep in thought he hadn't even noticed until one of her many cats rubbed by him. He found himself standing on her porch. Harry pushed the doorbell and waited... then Hermione it him like a storm. She had run threw the door and hugged him so hard he could barely breathe. "Cut it out Hermione, you're going to kill him if you keep that up." There was a note of jealousy in Ron's now matured voice. The two boys hugged and the friends made there way into Mrs. Figg's sitting room.
"This house reminds me of that tent we rented 2 years ago to go to the quidditch world cup. Cat hair everywhere!" Ron exclaimed, brushing off his pants. Having not been in touch with the magical world for a few long weeks Harry found himself feeling very left out for two reasons. The first was the fact that he had no idea what was happening in the wizard world, having been forced by his uncle to cancel his prescription to the Daily Prophet. The second thing that made Harry feel left out was how close Ron and Hermione were sitting together on Mrs. Figg's love seat.
Shoving aside his unknown feelings, he told them what happened at breakfast. "Maybe Aunt Petunia was a wizard but because of your uncle pretends she isn't. Maybe he doesn't even know!" Ron hypothesized. It seemed farfetched but neither Hermione nor Harry could find a better explanation. There was no was Vernon would have married a wizard. After thoroughly discussing it they decided that Harry should not say anything to his Aunt and Uncle about it.
Afterwards, having been rushed out of the house before he had had breakfast, Harry discovered he was hungry. Ron and Hermione, who were hand in hand, Harry noted, lead him to Mrs. Figg's fridge. "She's out right now," they explained, "but she won't mind you getting something to eat. We've been here since last night and she barely stopped feeding us long enough to get some sleep." As the day drew on Harry almost felt just as alone sitting beside his two best friends as he did back at number 4 Privet Drive, because they were so close.
He still managed to have some fun though. Ron found it particularly hilarious, that Harry's street was called Privet drive. "Privet," he laughed, "that means outhouse you know. Ha..." And such. Hermione, who had lived in muggle communities all her life was used to weird street names and didn't find it near as funny. Harry, by the end of the day had begun to warm up to the whole Hermione and Ron thing. It really doesn't change much, he thought, they still bicker. Hugging them both he walked back to the Dursley. The door was locked and no matter how many times he rang the doorbell no one came to the door. Perfect, he thought, locked outside and by now my friends will already be gone.
Harry, luckily, checked the mailbox beside the door. In there he found a house key and a note written in a rushed scrawl. The note said; Harry,
Gone to London. Feed Dudley's pet. We'll be back in time to get you to the train.
Ps, Don't touch anything,
Vernon.
Confused, yet tired, Harry let himself into his house, and fell asleep after clearing his mind on his couch.
CHAPTER ONE: DUDLEY'S BIRTHDAY
Harry woke up happy. This was an unusual occurrence, but today he had his reasons. It was none other than Dudley's birthday. Confused? The whole Dursley family was when he entered the kitchen. Dudley was sitting amongst 40 colorful wrapped presents. One of them was as large as the kitchen table, a giant orange box.
"Can I at least open one? Mom? Come on..." Dudley whined.
"Now Dudders, I've already told you, not until you finish you special birthday breakfast."
Harry was in such a good mood because it was the day of the year in which their haltered for Harry stood out most, but because the whole family was going to a roller coaster park. The whole family being Dudley, Petunia and Vernon. Harry however was going to be spending the first afternoon with Mrs. Figg since he'd found out she was a squib. Ron and Hermione had promised that they would be there.
Breakfast was being served in the dining room, seeing as there was not an inch of space left on the kitchen table. Dudley was lead away from his gifts. It was obvious he has using all his self-control not to throw a tantrum. Harry stood watching Dudley, then moved back towards the pile of presents. Uncle Vernon, who was carrying the bacon to the dining room, said, "Don't even think about touching them, boy," as he passed. From the other room Harry could here Dudley trying to persuade his mother to let him open just a few of the presents before he ate.
"Would you like us to take them back?" Vernon snapped, immediately regretting it. A moment later Aunt Petunia was bustling into the kitchen with a plate of ignited bacon. Clearly distressed by the amount of money they had spent on the gifts for their dear son, Mr. And Mrs. Dursley were quick to anger this morning.
"Why didn't you make sure they were safe before you brought them to the table?" Petunia said.
"It wasn't my fault," Harry's uncle replied as he ran the bacon under water, "Clearly Harry used some of his..." he hushed his voice so low they could barely hear him, "you-know-what."
At this remark Harry was shoved out the door and pointed in the direction of Mrs. Figg's house. On the short walk there Harry let his mind wander. He had seen the plate of bacon his uncle had cooked for Dudley... and it certainly didn't seem like it could catch fire. Having caused similar things himself when angry and frustrated he was sure that it must have been magic. But who in his house was a wizard beside himself. Who could cause a plate of bacon to re-cook itself? Then it hit him. Petunia must have made it explode into flames by accident. Her sister was a witch... why couldn't she be one. She had never spoken of her education...
He had reached Mrs. Figg's front door. Deep in thought he hadn't even noticed until one of her many cats rubbed by him. He found himself standing on her porch. Harry pushed the doorbell and waited... then Hermione it him like a storm. She had run threw the door and hugged him so hard he could barely breathe. "Cut it out Hermione, you're going to kill him if you keep that up." There was a note of jealousy in Ron's now matured voice. The two boys hugged and the friends made there way into Mrs. Figg's sitting room.
"This house reminds me of that tent we rented 2 years ago to go to the quidditch world cup. Cat hair everywhere!" Ron exclaimed, brushing off his pants. Having not been in touch with the magical world for a few long weeks Harry found himself feeling very left out for two reasons. The first was the fact that he had no idea what was happening in the wizard world, having been forced by his uncle to cancel his prescription to the Daily Prophet. The second thing that made Harry feel left out was how close Ron and Hermione were sitting together on Mrs. Figg's love seat.
Shoving aside his unknown feelings, he told them what happened at breakfast. "Maybe Aunt Petunia was a wizard but because of your uncle pretends she isn't. Maybe he doesn't even know!" Ron hypothesized. It seemed farfetched but neither Hermione nor Harry could find a better explanation. There was no was Vernon would have married a wizard. After thoroughly discussing it they decided that Harry should not say anything to his Aunt and Uncle about it.
Afterwards, having been rushed out of the house before he had had breakfast, Harry discovered he was hungry. Ron and Hermione, who were hand in hand, Harry noted, lead him to Mrs. Figg's fridge. "She's out right now," they explained, "but she won't mind you getting something to eat. We've been here since last night and she barely stopped feeding us long enough to get some sleep." As the day drew on Harry almost felt just as alone sitting beside his two best friends as he did back at number 4 Privet Drive, because they were so close.
He still managed to have some fun though. Ron found it particularly hilarious, that Harry's street was called Privet drive. "Privet," he laughed, "that means outhouse you know. Ha..." And such. Hermione, who had lived in muggle communities all her life was used to weird street names and didn't find it near as funny. Harry, by the end of the day had begun to warm up to the whole Hermione and Ron thing. It really doesn't change much, he thought, they still bicker. Hugging them both he walked back to the Dursley. The door was locked and no matter how many times he rang the doorbell no one came to the door. Perfect, he thought, locked outside and by now my friends will already be gone.
Harry, luckily, checked the mailbox beside the door. In there he found a house key and a note written in a rushed scrawl. The note said; Harry,
Gone to London. Feed Dudley's pet. We'll be back in time to get you to the train.
Ps, Don't touch anything,
Vernon.
Confused, yet tired, Harry let himself into his house, and fell asleep after clearing his mind on his couch.