Dudley finished the chapter with an expression of slight awe. "I always wondered how you'd gotten here."
"Daddy, you were a pretty baby," lisped Lily as she stuck her tiny thumb in her mouth.
Harry blinked down at his daughter, slightly embarrassed but felt warmth in his chest. "Umm... Thank you, Tiger Lily." Ginny smirked and Dudley chuckled.
"Yes dear, you were a pretty baby," Ginny said trying to smother her laughter as Harry glanced her way. She mostly succeeded, but her eyes still sparkled with suppressed mirth.
"Daddy, Mummy said you 'were' pretty how come you're not pretty anymore?" asked Albus giggling. Meredith smiled dreamily at the child, and Dudley chuckled again. Mr. Roberts chuckled too, Mr. Lewis smiled behind his wife's back, and even Petunia's lips twitched. Harry was thoroughly mortified.
When everyone had calmed down, and he had stopped blushing Harry asked who would like to read next. Mrs. Lewis volunteered, it wasn't because she was genuinely interested in what happened to Harry, she just wanted to know what else Petunia had lied about.
Dudley handed the book to Mrs. Lewis.
Petunia went off to check the roast and potatoes.
The muggles had become curious to what Harry actually did as a wizard, to afford such luxurious things.
"What do you do then boy?" said Vernon who doubted the boy actually had a job. Probably just living off those freaky friends of his, he thought meanly.
"I work in magical law enforcement. I'm an Auror, the equivalent of MI9, and MI17 all lumped together. I've been Head of Department for the past five years," said Harry a little stiffly.
Vernon would never admit it but he was quite impressed even if it was a position in the freak government it was a high paying one, of obvious prestige.
Before Petunia made it back to the den there came yet another knock upon the door.
"I'll get it, Dad," said Dudley.
Dudley opened the door and on the doorstep was a rather plain looking woman in her forties. She wore a pale blue dress patterned with daisies, her hair was pulled back in an unflattering ponytail, and wore coral pink lipstick that did nothing for her thin mouth. "Hello, I'm looking for Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter. I was their primary school teacher." She said this in a high chirping voice that made Dudley want to rub his ears. Dudley realized who it was a second later.
"Ms. Green, what are you doing here?"
The woman's eyes bugged so far out they looked in danger of falling out of her head. "Good Lord," she exclaimed. "Dudley Dursley is that you?!"
Dudley rubbed the back of his neck, he'd gotten that response a lot over the years. It seemed he would never quite escape the reputation of his youth.
"Er... Yeah."
He invited her in, "This was the last address I had for either you or your cousin and the school sent me out to invite my former class to a reunion."
The room looked up as Ms. Green entered,"Well you see before we had James I played professional sports. I was quite good, but after we had Albus I had to quit. With two small children we couldn't both have away jobs so I took up a post at the newspaper as a sports columnist-" Ginny halted her in her conversation with Mrs. Lewis, who seemed to disapprove of female sportsmanship in any case, to see who had entered the room. She stared critically at their new guest deciding she would do well enough.
They sat her down and explained what was going on.
"So, let me get this straight," started Ms. Green. "You're a wizard now," she said indicating Harry who nodded, "and your wizard government wants to close the gap between the magical and non-magical communities? And in order to do this we need to read about your part in a war that ended twelve years ago?"
"Um-yeah." said Harry. He could tell Ms. Green thought they were all mad. She had grabbed the bottle of wine and poured a large glassful. Well, thought Harry, I suppose I'd need a drink too if I was her, it is a lot to take in. In the end Ginny had to take out her wand and levitated a giggling and squealing Lily who was most disappointed when the ride was over, Ginny had sent her flying twice around the room; Vernon had shouted terrified protests all the while. Ginny, of course, ignored him.
Finally believing Ms. Green sat gaping at the lot of them, slowly processing and taking it all in.
"When my aunt finishes checking on dinner we will continue," said Harry. Dudley then proceeded to recap the last chapter to her. "I'm going to need a lot of aspirin and vodka after all this," she muttered after taking in the new information with her thin lips pursed.
When Petunia returned to the living room Lily wiggled down from her father's lap, skipped over and tugged at Petunia's ugly salmon dress. Petunia stared down at the child,"What do you want?" she said impatiently.
Lily smiled sweetly up at Petunia, her brown eyes big and innocent. "May I have a glass of water, please Tuney?" she'd been polite just like Daddy taught her.
Petunia nearly flinched. She knew the child probably just couldn't pronounce her name properly, but that old nickname sent her reeling back in time; to another Lily who had looked up to her with that same expression of innocence.
"Yes, yes you may," said Petunia a little off. She bustled off to fetch the child's request, not really sure why she was acquiescing at all. Perhaps she wanted another chance to do right by her sister, or maybe it just an automatic response to such a familiar face.
Harry was surprised Petunia had done as his daughter had asked of her, he'd thought for a moment that he would need to intercede. He exchanged a glance with Ginny, both thinking the same thing, maybe there was hope for his aunt after all.
Petunia returned, she handed the glass to Lily with trembling finger as if scared the small girl would bite her hand. When she seated herself beside Vernon she let out an almost inaudible breath.
Once everyone was settled if not comfortably, then quietly Mrs. Lewis picked up the book and turned to the next chapter.
Chapter 2
The Vanishing Glass
Harry sighed, the book would mention that day.
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-colored bonnets -
Teddy snickered. Beach ball!
— 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.
"Daddy, how come you don't have any pictures?" Albus frowned when his father didn't answer.
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!"
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.
"Geez, woman give him a minute! Let him breathe," mumbled Teddy under his breath.
"Teddy," reprimanded Harry lightly.
"Sorry, Dad," said Teddy. He didn't sound very sorry, but Harry decided to let it go.
"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."
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.
Silence. Complete and total silence.
"What the HELL!" cried Mr. Roberts.
The Lewis' looked scandalized.
Ms. Green took a swig from the bottle of wine.
Teddy couldn't believe what he had just heard. His dad had lived in a cupboard? What kind of sick people was he sitting amongst? The thought burst from his mouth," What is wrong with you people?"
"Teddy, it's alright." Harry said tiredly.
"No, Dad!" cried Teddy looking fierce. "What kind of sick monsters are you?! You put a kid in a cupboard under the stairs?! Are you mental?! What did you just toss him under there after you plucked him off the stair?!"
The Dursleys stared wide-eyed at Teddy lost for words.
Unbeknownst to Teddy, whose hair turned fire engine red in his state of complete fury, that was exactly Petunia had done. She hadn't wanted to gaze at those familiar bright green eyes knowing her sister was gone and why. She had never even gotten to apologize and it was all the fault of one Harry James Potter. Petunia didn't want those eyes looking at her questioning, not long after accusing. How to say she hated him for being just like her. How could she say that she had hated him for something he'd had no control over, how to say she was jealous that her sister, her sister, had loved him more. Died for that love. No she couldn't say it, wouldn't say. No one would understand.
Teddy was shouting a series of swears Harry was sure he'd learned from Ron. He and Ginny had been silent through there son's rage-filled questions, accusations, and vicious insults.
"Ted, that's enough now," said Harry gently. Teddy looked at him with tears of anger sparkling in his eyes. Harry picked the boy up and cradled him to his chest as he hadn't done since Teddy was a small child.
The boy kicked and struggled for a few moments then gave over. "They're just so awful!" Teddy sobbed into his shoulder.
Harry rubbed soothing circles into Teddy's back. The boy slowly calmed. He'd cried himself into a stupor. "Gin, I'm going to send him to the Burrow so Molly can make him a cup of warm milk laced with a bit of Calming Draught," said Harry. Ginny nodded and pulled out the pouch full of Floo powder.
Since Harry still had Teddy in his arms Ginny started the fire and tossed the powder in the grate so the flames roared emerald green.
No one spoke all the while this went on, the Dursleys even forgot to flinched as Ginny pulled out her wand.
"I'll be back in a bit, love," said Harry quietly. She reached up and brushed the hair from his eyes with gentle fingers, then leaned in to plant a kiss on Teddy's forehead who's hair was now a soft brown, his natural color.
"Take your time, darling," she told him.
He stepped into the warm flames and said,"The Burrow."
At the Burrow Molly Weasley was bustling about her kitchen making tea for a very pregnant Hermione.
She was about to force a third scone on the young woman when the kitchen fireplace roared up green to expel a tired looking Harry Potter with a small figure in his arms. She got up and quickly hurried over to him panic on her face.
"Harry dear, what's going on? What's wrong with Teddy?" her voice was slightly panicky.
"He'll be okay Molly, just over exerted himself," sighed Harry.
"But what happened, how do you over exert yourself from reading?"
"He found out about my old sleeping quarters," said Harry tiredly.
"Oh." said Molly sadly.
"I'm going to put him in Percy's room, Molly. I think a cup of warm milk and a Calming Draught will fix him up right. If after that he's feeling okay he can come back."
"Okay."
After tucking in his son, Harry had a short chat with Hermione. "The books are okay," said Harry. "But I'm worried giving these to the public will stir up anti-muggle attitudes with the way the Dursleys are behaving," he'd confided in Hermione.
"Oh Harry," said Hermione rubbing her sore back. This pregnancy was rather hard on her the baby was rather large. Thankfully she was due next month. "I'm sure it'll work out, things always manage to work out, don't they?"
"You're right Hermione," said Harry kissing her cheek and nicking the last scone from her plate.
"Of course I am, aren't I always?" she teased.
"Almost always," he teased back.
It had been a good hour since Harry had Flooed Teddy to the Burrow, and the occupants of Number Four Privet Drive sat in awkward silence.
Ginny was glaring at her manicured nails, the remaining children were glancing fearfully around at the adults not fully comprehending the gravity of the situation. The Lewis' and Mr. Roberts scowled in complete disgust, and Ms. Green was on her eighth glass of wine (Ginny had been refilling the bottle), and Vernon and Petunia were hunched on the sofa looking fearful. Dudley for his part was looking ashamed, Meredith seemed lost in thought.
After what seemed like a million years, Ginny spoke up, "Do you not realize what you could've done?" The question was quiet but the Dursleys flinched as if she had shouted.
"Do you understand what could've happened to you? I won't ask you to understand what could've happened to him, I know you don't care. But what about you could've done to the world?" each question and accusation was like a blow to Petunia's solar plexus.
"We just wanted it to stop, the magic, it wasn't right. It wasn't natural," mumbled Vernon. He was beginning to feel the smallest twinges of shame somewhere in the reaches of his tiny mind. Why had he continued with that method when it hadn't gotten the boy to stop? Had it ever worked? No, it hadn't.
"You can't make magic go away. It's apart of every magical being, it doesn't go away. You could've driven him mad, he could've killed you and/or himself. You only made the magic manifest itself further, it was the only line of defense he had against you people. Don't you see what you've done, might have doomed us all, he could've been like Tom Riddle bitter and resentful, lashing out. I'll never know how he turned out to be the beautiful man he is. You can't even understand what he's been through, how brave and self-sacrificing, what he's done for the world."
Ginny's voice died away gazing around at Vernon and Petunia with an expression close to pitying.
The Dursleys sat silent for their part, trying to take in what their guest had said.
Dudley, Meredith, and the neighbors shivered. Harry could've died or been driven mad from what they'd done, thought Dudley. We could have broken him, he might have snapped and killed us all. We would have deserved it.
Harry returned a few hours later from the Burrow to find that Privet Drive was deathly still.
The Dursleys and their neighbors were all more silent then a churchyard. They did not look up, shriek, or flinch as he stumbled through the fireplace.
It took him stroking Ginny's cheek to get her to look at him, she hadn't answered to his prompt, "Sweetheart I'm back."
He told her Teddy would be fine, and that Hermione was coming as soon as Ron was done with work.
"Mrs. Lewis, I think we should continue reading if you're up to it," said Harry firmly. The woman startled for a moment, she took a breath which seemed to relax her then picked up the book.
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 favorite 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, knobbly 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. 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. "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.
Dudley smiled for the first time in a bit at his cousin's cheeky remark.
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, it's here under this big one from Mommy 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.
Dudley sighed he had really been awful.
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.
"I ... hic...am not quite...hic...um quite sssuuure how...hic hic...you m-mean age, I mean managed to make it too, I mean ...hic...through school!" slurred Ms. Green.
"My love, I believe we've all had enough wine for today," said Harry noticing where Ginny had refilled the bottle. Ginny flicked her wand vanishing the wine, and Dudley gave her an embarrassed smile.
Harry went over to Ms. Green to try and sober her up, and waved to Mrs. Lewis to keep reading.
"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.
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. 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.
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.
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. 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 Tibbies, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.
"I'm sure Arabella would love to know what you thought of her cats," said Ginny getting a bit of her snap back.
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."
Marge who hadn't spoken in awhile stuck her nose in the air, No good lazy boy. Using magic for everything instead of working like decent people.
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.
Petunia flinched, she hadn't thought he'd noticed. Just another one of her grievous mistakes.
"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"
"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.
"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.
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave him in the car. …"
"That cars new, he's not sitting in it alone. …"
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.
"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 mothers arms.
"You know dear," said Meredith musingly. "I don't think I would have cared for you much back then."
Dudley blushed," No I don't suppose you would."
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.
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. 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."
Nearly every adult, except Ginny and Harry, flinched at the mention of the cupboard.
I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly …"
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.
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.
Damn him, thought Petunia. Why did he have to be just like her?
*flashback*
It was spring and Marigold Evans wanted her daughters to get their hair trimmed.
Petunia's hair didn't need much just some clipping to the ends. Lily however was getting her first haircut ever. At six her hair cascaded in waves to brush the backs of her knees. She wanted her hair to grow right down past the floor just like her favorite storybook princess Rapunzel.
Mrs. Evans would have let her but seeing as how they now went through half a bottle of shampoo in her daily washing it was getting a little too expensive.
Lily had of course worked herself into a fit, "I don't wanna cut my hair! I like it this way! If you cut it I'll die!" Lily had screamed all of this dramatically. Mrs. Evans simply told her that she wouldn't die and to get in the car. Lily sulked the whole way there hunching her little shoulders and pressing her cheek against the window.
The nice lady at the salon had clipped and trimmed Lily's hair into shoulder length perfection. Lily wasn't happy, she had stomped her feet all the to the car. She'd slammed the door to her room when she got home. "I'm never coming out! Never! Never! Never!" she declared.
She didn't come down for dinner or dessert. Finally their mother screamed up the stairs for her to come down and show her father her hair. He'd just got home from work.
Lily had run down the stairs hair streaming behind her to hop in her father's arms. He caught her and set her down.
Mrs. Evans and Petunia gaped, Lily's hair had grown right down to the floor, hitting her little black Mary Janes. "It grew back!" a smirking Lily announced to her awestruck family.
It was year before they tried to cut it again.
*end flashback*
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls).
Ginny wrinkled her nose at the description of the awful sweater.
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 trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.
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 favorite 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 motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."
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 mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"
Dudley and Piers sniggered.
"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."
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.
"No love, you get dangerous ideas all on your own," said Ginny.
"What are you talking about, Gin? I've never gotten dangerous ideas."
"So going after mass murders and slaying monsters isn't dangerous?"
"Nope."
The children looked at their parents light banter with giggles.
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 pop. 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 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 favorite 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.
"Harry, you make it sound like it was good. It was soupy soggy mess by the time Mum let you near it," said Dudley frowning.
Harry shrugged.
Ginny sighed.
Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.
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 trash can — 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.
Dudley sighed, he knew what was coming next and it was of course his fault. Why didn't he just leave well enough alone?
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.
Poor kid, thought Mr. Roberts. What kind of kid has more in common with a caged animal than their own family? Well at least he seems to have turned out okay. He glanced at Harry who was laughing as he rubbed noses with his little girl, she squealed happily. His wife watched with a tender look on her face. Mr. Roberts turned away feeling intrusive on their family moment.
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.
"You can talk to animals?" asked Ms. Green.
"No, not anymore,it used be just snakes, but now it's more interpretative body language" explained Harry.
"How come you can't do it anymore? Did you lose some of your powers?" asked Dudley realizing he was actually concerned.
"Not exactly, you'll find out later," said Harry.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.
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.
"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?"
"I know you didn't know about magic yet love, but surely you thought that was a little odd?" asked Ginny. Though she usually had an extreme phobia of snakes, even she thought this conversation was a little bittersweet.
"Well..." said Harry rubbing his jaw.
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. "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.
"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. 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. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.
"They really did overreact," said Harry.
The adults raised their eyebrows at him.
"Really Harry? A giant snake escaped from its tank, trying to get to Brazil, and we overreacted? Somehow I don't think so," said Dudley.
"Do you have any fear in you, young man?" asked Mr. Lewis.
"I fear different things," Harry replied solemnly.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come. … Thanksss, amigo."
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"
"Poor bastard," said Mr. Lewis, his wife smacked his arm.
"There are children here, Richard!"
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?"
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.
But of course they starved him, thought Mr. Roberts coldly.
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, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. 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.
Ginny felt her heart twist and break for the small lonely boy that her husband had been.
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.