Chapter Four: Each night is a blue moon
The next morning was as quiet as the grave. No one said a thing, and Harry just played around with her food idly. The Dursleys carried on with their work as usual. Dudley was rather shocked. It had to be the first time ever that his parents refused his demands. Though the sense of revenge brought Harry some satisfaction, she was in a worse state.
She didn't have to work for the Dursleys that day, no cooking, no cleaning, no repainting the garden or anything whatsoever. Any other day, she would've been relieved but today, not having work to distract herself felt like torture. All she could do was bitterly think about this time yesterday, when she'd got her first ever letter. She should've read the letter then and there. Even though she sat quietly, she wanted to scream her throat hoarse.
As it happened, her Uncle and Aunt were trying to be very polite to her, so for the first time since she'd been born, Aunt Petunia cooked for her and cleaned Dudley's second room to make space for her things. Uncle Vernon had even offered her the T.V. So when the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon asked Dudley to get it. Dudley grumbled loudly and broke one expensive vase with his Smeltings stick that Uncle Vernon's sister Marge had bought from Rome.
Out of the blue, a scream rang, undoubtedly Dudley's. "There's another one! Ms H Potter, the Smallest Bedroom-"
Uncle Vernon yelled and raced to Dudley as fast as his legs could carry him. Harry, awakened and her heart wrestling her lungs in her chest, ran past her Uncle and to Dudley. She slapped his hand and was about to catch the letter when-
"Give that here, girl!"
Harry screamed in retaliation and strangled her Uncle, trying to get her hands on the letter. Unfortunately for her, she was so skinny that Uncle Vernon could basically toss her aside with one flick of his finger. Uncle Vernon emerged victorious.
"Go – to your – cupboard," Uncle Vernon wheezed at Harry. "I mean – to your room – and Dudley – just go."
Sorely, Harry dragged her feet up the stairs to her room. She paced around aimlessly, wondering what Uncle Vernon could be hiding from her, and even Dudley for that matter.
What Dudley had read, though, made her curious. The person who'd been writing her knew that she had moved from the cupboard to the second bedroom. Who knew this and how could they? More importantly, if they'd sent a letter after the first one, then that had to mean that they would send it again. But this time around, Harry would be prepared.
The broken, cracked and bubbled alarm clock that Harry had to make do with for all these years rang at six o'clock in the morning. Harry quickly shut it off and sneaked down the steps slowly, slowly, creeping towards the mailbox when…
Harry screamed as she stepped on something, or someone, who happened to be very much alive.
Uncle Vernon had been there all along, trying to prevent Harry from doing exactly what she had planned to do. After half an hour of Uncle Vernon shouting at Harry, he ordered her to make a strong cup of black tea. When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon shredded them before Harry could even utter a word. Uncle Vernon nailed the mail slot close. He stayed at home all the days the letters kept sneaking in.
That didn't stop the letters, though. They kept on flowing in, with eggs, with milk packets, crack between the door and floor, the bathroom window and whatnot. Nothing seemed to perturb the mysterious informer. No less than thirty letters had been pushed through the kitchen window.
By the time Sunday had rolled around, all the residents of, Privet Drive had been pushed to their limits. No one talked, and if they did, it was usually in clipped snipes. Uncle Vernon looked worn out and sick, but happy nonetheless. He kept announcing, "What a pleasant day! No mails on Sunday!" It did nothing to cool Harry's boiling temper. The opposite, in fact. One time as he repeated that to mock Harry, something jabbed him sharply behind the head.
The next moment, about four dozens of letters came pouring through the chimney, down and down, and hit Uncle Vernon on the head like bullets, as if trying prove him wrong.
"Get out all of you!" Uncle Vernon gripped a fraction of Harry's hair roughly and shoved her out of the living room, as Aunt Petunia shielded Dudley from the incoming letters. Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut, and pressed his back against it. "That does it," he rasped, "No more of this nuisance. Pack only your clothes. We're leaving in five."
Harry had had so much that she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door as she pulled out a knit sweater, her school sports cap and ripped jeans. She dumped it in her empty school bag and trooped back downstairs.
Occupying one fourth of a seat in the backseat, Harry folded her arms and stared out of the moving car with eyes squinted against the gusting wind. They sped down the unending highway for hours on end, Harry leaning her head on the windowsill, tired, and hitting her head on the car frame each time Uncle Vernon swerved the car sharply. All through the day, they didn't stop for anything – food, water, or even visiting the restroom. Harry felt terrified sitting next to Dudley, lest some accident take place…
She shuddered at the thought, scooting closer to the window than she already was.
Dudley was positively fuming. He'd missed his lunch, five television shows and video games. Finally, Uncle Vernon stopped at a shaggy inn at the outskirts of the city, and barked at them to get out of the car. Harry scurried behind them, still not understanding what was so important in the letter that made the Dursleys desperately abandon their lifestyles to prevent her from reading it. That only made her desire to read it multiply tenfold.
Harry and Dudley had to share a room, and as Dudley snored on undeterred, Harry sat on the windowsill, with her legs curled in and her arms enveloping her thighs. She sighed, frustrated, willing it all to go back to normal. But also at a certain level she felt that she had come so far, and might as well see the end result. She chose the latter option. She was already so deep into this, she felt she deserved to reach the end of it…So close…
The next morning, Harry filled her starving stomach with some cornflakes and tomatoes, as odd as it sounded. While Harry was scrounging cornflakes from her plate, the owner came by and asked in a thick, Scottish accent: "Is anyone here Ms H Potter? I've gotten 'bout an 'undred of these at the desk."
Harry made to snatch it, but before she could, Uncle Vernon slapped her hand away. The owner stared. "I'll have those," Uncle Vernon said hurriedly, pocketing the letter and pulling Harry along before shoving her into the car. Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed soon.
After another bout of crazy, aimless driving (in Harry's opinion), Aunt Petunia timidly asked, "Shouldn't we be heading home, honey? It's Monday and you have office to attend…" But Uncle Vernon just kept looking ahead, whistling to the tune of 'Tiptoe through the tulips', and paid her no heed. What Uncle Vernon was looking for, nobody knew, but even Aunt Petunia was getting ticked off now. Dudley even dared to quietly ask, "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he, Mum?"
A while later, Uncle Vernon stopped the car and disappeared into a nearby cottage, some distance along the road. It started raining heavily.
Uncle Vernon came back with a toothless fisherman, who seemed to bow to Harriet. She flashed a puzzled look to the boat uncle Vernon pointed to. Fear gripped Harry…they couldn't possibly be traveling on water…that was nonsense…they couldn't…
"Get in it!" uncle Vernon ordered.
The fisherman rowed us along the sea on and on, until the coastline was but a line on the horizon of the endless sea. Harry sat shivering on the edge of the boat. Harry tried to block the fear by reciting good thing in her brain. Today is Monday…tomorrow is Tuesday…tomorrow is my birthday…Ah! Tomorrow? I will turn eleven tomorrow…if I survive this ride.
They docked on a miserable, shattered rock, cracked undoubtedly by the sea, and Harry shivered. Partially from the cold, partially from the fear.
The inside smelt of dead seaweed and alcohol fire, and the grass was brutally charred on the ground. Unsurprisingly, that was where the Dursleys made her sleep, on the wet rug. Uncle Vernon attempted to start a fire, but all the plastic bags just shriveled up uselessly.
"Ah!" he said cheerfully, "Could've used those letters now!"
Even Harry wasn't dumb enough to deny that the letters wouldn't be arriving here in a storm. Hopelessly, she slumped on the rug, instantly recoiling at the coldness of the cloth. She flinched and sneezed, getting away from the rug and nearer to the sofa. She curled up on the soft mud that lay below, trying to steal a blanket from Dudley, who slept on the sofa with five of his own. Obviously, it didn't work.
Harry rolled into a ball and nested her head on the moth-eaten sofa, as the waves lulled her to sleep, bit by bit…but she was woken by her rumbling stomach. She hadn't eaten much, and it didn't help that she was already starved. Glancing at Dudley's watch, she realized she would be eleven in two minutes' time. So, having nothing better to do, she counted the time until her birthday.
One…Two…Three…Four…Five…
Ten…
Thirty…
She heard a funny crunching noise outside, and hoped it wasn't the water level rising.
Sixty…
Would 4, Privet Drive be flooded with letters, and drown the Dursleys when they entered? (Hopefully not her)
Hundred…
The water level was definitely rising…
One hundred and ten…
Ten seconds to go…
Nine…Eight…Seven…Five…- she was not good at math – Four…Three…Two…
Boom!
Harry sat up fearfully. Someone was banging at the door.
Boom!
It was getting stronger each second.
BOOM!
Harry sat bolt upright. What the-
Someone was outside, and they wanted to come in.
A/N: Now that the major part of the canon intro info-chuck is over, we might as well kick into original content. Further chapters will have my original content and a new phase of Harriet and Hogwarts in itself.
Delilah Knight: What you say is true – be careful what you ask for, but then again, don't you regret every decision you make in some or the other way?
Yeah, but that's the problem. When we make a decision we mustn't regret it. It is human nature, considered, but regret only serves to burden you. That's why we need to be very decisive and headstrong. That's the way to live better! :)
Celestial-dragneel13: My first fan reviewer besides Delilah! (Of course, you were the first Del… don't cry over it!) Thank you so much, Celeste. This early update is dedicated to you!