A/N: So, just as promised, I'm here… updating… and yeah, the exams are finished! Yey!
And just to make things clear, the previous chapter is a prologue… and this is the 'official' chapter 1. And also, I'm going to base the Dursley's appearance from the books, which, means they're blonde.
Clear? Ok.
And I'm thinking of a new title, but I can't think of anything that fits. I'm open to suggestions. Also, I'd like to thank those who added my story into their Favorites/Story Subscription Alert. That's good enough for me.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter, who belongs to its respective owners.
xx
Chapter 1: A Very Happy Birthday
I don't know if it is a family tradition, but every year, my brother and I take turns in choosing the place to go on our birthdays. I choose bookstores, guitar stores, museums… you know, those 'places only old and boring people go to', as described by Dudley. While he chooses restaurants, adventure parks, movies (Movies, I do not mind.)
He receives more gifts that I, which in all honesty, I do not mind. And if you can't already tell, although we are twins (I am an hour older, making me the 'first-born') we are very, very different. And that's not only the weight and the obvious gender difference. Sure we have we the same blonde hair, but his eyes were blue, just like Dad's, and mine were green, which was unlike my Mum's, whose eyes were brown. It was the same shade that Harry's eyes have.
It's been almost a decade since they found Harry in the doorstep. And since then, my cousin had this cool, lightning-bolt shaped scar. I used to pester Mum about where he got his mark, but she always gives me the same answer.
"His parents are drunk, his father was a "good-for-nothing", and when driving the car one night, they crashed, leaving their son and a burden to us." Come to think of it, I still haven't seen his parents yet. Not even in pictures.
I wonder why?
Well, this year, it was Dudley's turn to pick again, much to my annoyance. And like I said earlier, Duds gets more gifts than I, but it was counted to only 36 this year, and I got 20, which was consist diaries, make-up sets… girl stuff. Like I like those blasted things! Dudley IS upset with getting fewer gifts this year, and I can feel his tantrum coming up. Mum sensed it too, so she consoled him, saying, "We'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?''
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Mum finished his counting for him.
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
Dad chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled my brother's hair. Mum turned to me next and was about to ask me something, probably if I want additional presents, but at that moment the telephone rang and Mum went to answer it while Harry and Dad, and I watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when my Mother came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.
"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, and despite the fact that I felt pity towards our cat loving neighbor; I looked at Harry, happiness surging through my veins, smiling widely to show it. He was smiling too, albeit faintly.
Every year, we leave Harry with Mrs. Figg, a widowed old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there, he told me so. He also said that the whole house smelled of cabbage and she made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned. I wouldn't have minded looking at the cats, and I kind of liked the old lady, as I am a cat person too, but Mum don't like anything with fur, because of Dudley's asthma attacks when we were younger, so she didn't allow me to get one.
"Now what?" said Mum, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this.
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. I looked at m father in horror. Aunt Marge is like a female Dudley who likes dogs. I don't like her.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." I let out a sigh of relief, hearing Mum say this.
"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"
"On vacation in Majorca," My mother snapped.
"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully. I looked at him shrewdly. Growing up with him, I can say I can read his mind on several occasions. Like this time. When we leave him here, I know for sure he'll watch television and have a go at Dudley's new computer. That or he's using revise psychology. Either of the two works.
Mother looked as though she'd just swallowed something extremely sour. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.
"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," she answered slowly, "...and leave him in the car..."
'Thus letting him die from the lack of oxygen.' I finished her sentence in my head.
"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone..."
Dudley began to cry loudly. Well, no, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried - but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, mother would give him anything he wanted. What a lovely young man my brother is, isn't he?
"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.
"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in mother's arms. I shot him an even nastier glare back. And before I could tell my mother of what he's doing, the doorbell rang. Darn.
"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Mum, frantically - and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.
If there's anything we have in common, it's the fact that we are spoiled by our parents. And if Dudley can act, then so can I.
"Mommy..." I said, mustering all the disgusting girlishness in every cell in my body. And boy wasn't convincing! She looked at me, and I batted my eyelashes, and then finally made my one wish I know she won't refuse, especially when there are people around. "Can Harry come with us to the Zoo?"
Half an hour later, I find myself grinning, sitting beside my cousin at the back of my father's car. Sitting beside me was my brother and his best friend, looking innocent as new born rats. They were quiet, but I know that Dudley is pissed because I had my way.
The advantages of being the first born daughter.
"Thanks, Sam." He said.
"Anytime, Harry…" I answered, punching him lightly on the arm. "He, it's your first time going to the zoo, isn't it?"
"Yeah." He replied. "I'm exited."
"Me too… I'll show you where the tigers live first. The oldest one is named Raj." I said. "Well, unless he died already, but I do hope not… Raj is very old you know…"
We spent the whole trip talking about the zoo animals, not noticing were already there. After we got out of the car, I pulled Harry's hand, pulling him to where the tigers are, but then Dad took Harry aside and whispered something to him.
I didn't know what they're talking about, but I have a clue on what it may be about. Harry's sort of… weird, in an even weirder way. One time, mum took him out to the barbers, and when they come back, he's almost bald, except for a few strands of his hair that was left to cover up his scar. Dudley laughed himself stupid when he saw this, and I am guilty of almost laughing too, but I controlled myself from doing so, I mean, I'm the only person in the house that treats him like a family…
I was angry at my parents for doing this to him, and what will happen to Harry tomorrow. He'll surely be the laughing stock of the class, as if he isn't already… but the next morning, his hair was back; black and all over the place. I asked him what he did, and he answered that he doesn't have the slightest clue. But as usual, Mum and Dad didn't believe him. That got him stuck in the cupboard for a whole week, but at night, I sneak food for him, just so he won't be hungry.
Another time, Mum had been trying to force him into wearing a revolting old sweater that belonged to Dudley, which was printed with brown with orange puff balls - The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. She had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished. It sounds weird when I say it, but I saw it with my own two eyes, and it was much, much, weirder.
And this one, I'll never forget. I was in my class (I was lucky, as Dudley and I were placed separate classes but Harry isn't) when I heard that my cousin was found in the school kitchen chimney. Mum got a letter from the headmistress informing her of this, and Harry was once again imprisoned inside the cupboard. And as usual, I sneaked food for him at night.
I do hope today that nothing will go wrong. And by wrong I do mean that Harry won't be imprisoned inside the cupboard for a whole month. Again.
xx
Lesale: So? what do you think? Good ? Bad? Needs improvement? Criticisms are very much welcome, as long as it won't be degrading...
As you can see, this chapter is based off on "The Vanishing Glass", Chapter 2 of The Sorcerer's Stone. I'll be posting the rest then.
Reviews will be very much appreciated! I'll post the second part next week... see you then!
Lesale Deathbringer out! :)
