Flamel's and the Stone - Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from adopting this story as I have never done so before until now. Also the text in non-bold is Harry's reactions and thoughts as he is the only character who is the reader of the book at the moment and italic are his thoughts at the moment but that may change as the story moves along and this chapter has been edited for those who do not know.
Disclaimer:I do not own anyone.
4 Privet Drive, Cupboard under the Stairs
Harry turned the page as he read the next chapter in the book.
The Vanishing Glass
Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.
Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bonnets — but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.
Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.
"Up, get up, now," his Aunt Petunia ordered.
Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.
"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.
His aunt was back outside the door.
"Are you up yet?" she demanded.
"Nearly," said Harry.
"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."
"Oh right his birthday is tomorrow," Harry thought as he now remembered his fat cousin's birthday.
Harry groaned.
"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.
"Nothing, nothing…"
Dudley's birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
"I wish that I didn't," He thought sadly as while the cupboard kept him safe and away from the Dursley's it was hardly the best available room for him to sleep in.
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.
Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody.
Dudley's favourite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age.
He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobby knees, black hair, and bright green eyes.
He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.
"I don't like it now, now that I understand where I got it from," Harry thought back to his previous musings when reading the previous chapter.
He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.
"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said.
"They didn't die in a car crash" Harry hissed in his mind as he now knew what really happened to his parents and not the lies of his despicable relatives.
"And don't ask questions." Don't ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.
"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.
About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way — all over the place.
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.
Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
"He still does" Harry thought snickering quietly to himself
Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. 'That's two less than last year.'
"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."
"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.
Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.
"Which happens nearly everyday at breakfast" Harry thought with exasperation at how much of a little baby his cousin would/could be.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And 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," said Aunt Petunia.
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
Uncle Vernon chuckled.
"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley," he ruffled Dudley's hair.
"Uncle Vernon needs his eyes checked," Harry thought befuddled at his Uncles apparent blindness to his sons actual size and girth.
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.
"Greedy, selfish pig," Harry viciously thought at how much stuff his cousin gets in gifts and breaks most of them with only himself getting little gifts in return by his relatives and only taking leftover or disused small toys that his cousin had abandoned or thrown away thinking it 'useless' meaning not expensive or big/flashy.
He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia 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.
"Maybe I'll be able to go," Harry thought "but it's too bad about Mrs Figg."
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.
"Its not that bad," Harry thought "Its better than my relatives regular treatment of me."
"Now what" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned, this
"Which I didn't," Harry thought to himself at his Aunts delusions and way her mind worked.
Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
"Please no, not her!" Harry thought desperately at the idea and possibility of being with that...that...Monster and bully of a Aunt.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."
"Thank goodness," Harry thought with relief.
The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there — or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.
"No, thats them not me," Harry mischievously thought.
"What about what's-her-name your friend Yvonne,' Uncle Vernon asked.
'On vacation in Majorca,' snapped Aunt Petunia.
"That's good," Harry thought as he remembered her vaguely as being nearly as bad as Aunt Petunia in manners and personality which is probably the only reason they were friends as they were so alike.
"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).
Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.
"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.
Harry wrote down a reminder to make sure he did not ask that when the event did happen.
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly,
"I'd love that," Harry thinks with a little hope.
"… and leave him in the car…"
That hope died at seeing this part.
"That car's new he's not sitting in it alone…"
"I am not some dog," Harry thought, angry at being compared to a animal or pet.
Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, 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, his mother would give him anything he wanted.
"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.
"That is still a terrible pet name for Dudley to get, I wonder if I can use it in front of his friends and see how they like it." Harry thought with a snicker hidden behind his hand to muffle the noise as he continued to read.
"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 his mother's arms.
"That Fat Spoiled Brat," Harry hissed quietly at his cousins cruelty.
Just then, the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia 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.
"What you can't pretend to cry in front of your friend?" Harry thought with a grin as he imagined the ridicule if Dudley was seen like that in front of everyone in school.
Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life.
Harry grinned happily at the possible experience he may yet have as the first time seeing any animal that was not a dog, cat and the occasional bird that flew about in the neighbourhood.
His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.
"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."
"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…"
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.
"Sad but true," Harry lamented sadly in thought.
The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.
Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left 'to hide that horrible scar.' Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (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. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.
On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big bins outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.
"You know maybe I did make those things happen by myself or accident," Harry guessed in thought.
But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.
While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favourite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.
"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.
"I had a dream about a motorbike," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."
"Why the heck did I say that?" Harry wondered "Now I'm going to be yelled at and Dudley and Piers will laugh at me."
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a moustache: "MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY!"
Dudley and Piers sniggered.
"That's what I thought" Harry nodded with his thoughts at his guess of what would likely happen if he said such a silly thing in front of his relatives and Piers Polkiss.
"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."
'Do not say a word about my dream tomorrow or end up being yelled at' Harry wrote.
But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon — they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly.
"Wow," Harry said quietly in a whisper as his eyes went wide at the lucky chance to have an actual ice lolly instead of nothing as usual.
It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who, looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.
Harry was desperately struggling not to burst out in laughter at his cousin being the possible 'missing link' between Man and Ape but also felt sorry for the Gorilla for being probably related to Dudley.
Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him.
They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.
"Wow," Harry quietly said wide-eyed at his apparent good luck so far.
Harry felt, afterwards, that he should have known it was all too good to last.
"I knew that was going to happen," Harry thought of his unusual balance of good and bad luck and how much it irked him when he was in a tight spot or awkward situation and had no chance of good luck happening, only bad.
After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone, Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a dust-bin — but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.
"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.
It winked.
"That's strange," Harry thought at this odd thing happening as he would have thought that snakes could not wink from what he read in books.
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:
"I get that all the time."
"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."
The snake nodded vigorously.
"Cool," Harry thought "I'm talking to a snake, but how am I doing it?"
"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.
The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.
'Boa Constrictor, Brazil.'
"Was it nice there?"
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see — so you've never been to Brazil?"
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.
"Go away," Harry quietly hissed like the snake in in the chapter at not getting more time talking to someone who was not one of his relatives or a part of Dudley's gang even if they weren't human.
"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.
"Like a fat penguin," Harry thought, momentarily amused.
"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor.
"Ouch" Harry thought rubbing his ribs in sympathy for his book and future self as he knew the pain of being punched there hurt like hell.
What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.
"Oh dear I'm going to be punished big time for that" Harry thought with dread filling in his gut.
The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come… thanksss, amigo."
"You're welcome," Harry said quietly wondering if it found a way to get home.
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"
"Shut up," Harry hissed quietly again at said person responsible for the whole mess who alerted nearly the whole Zoo of Harry's interaction with the snake.
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go — cupboard — stay — no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.
"I wonder how long I will be in there for?" Harry wondered with despair as he momentarily looked around his room/cupboard.
Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.
He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died.
Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.
This, he supposed, was the crash,
"No it wasn't, but I'm going to guess that it was what remained of the attack when Voldemort tried to kill me," He assumed from the current evidence.
Though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all.
He drooped his head in sadness at this depressing fact but pushed through it and continued reading.
His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.
When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too.
A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus.
A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to, vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.
"I'm not sure why those people did all of those things," He commented in his mind but he did have an inkling as to why those people might have done those odd things when he was around.
At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.
Harry gasped in astonishment as the book vanished and he suddenly felt himself fall asleep right away.
Please Review and tell me what you think of my changes.
FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ THIS CHAPTER AND OTHERS PLEASE KNOW THAT I AM WORKING AS FAST AS I CAN IN EDITING THE OTHER LATER CHAPTERS SO PLEASE BE PATIENT AS I NEED TIME.