Chapter Three
Summer 1991
I didn't see Harry again for a week.
Every morning I would quickly eat some toast, kiss my father goodbye when he left for work, and then dash down to the park. But Harry was never there. I'd sit on a swing and wait for ages, watching the place fill up with children around me, but there was never any sign of him. One morning I saw Dudley and his gang, and thought about asking them where Harry was but I lost my nerve as I approached them and ended up hurrying away before they noticed me.
Nor did Harry come to my house. There would be a knock on the door but it would always be the postman or a friend of my mother's, and never him.
I was reluctant to go to number four and find him because I knew for a fact that the Dursleys didn't like Harry having a friend round. They seemed to make it their life mission to deprive him of any kind of joy, and had made it clear long ago that they preferred it when he was out of the house.
I also didn't want to ask my mother about Harry's mysterious disappearance because she would no doubt tell me off for pining and drag me shopping with her, or whatever else it was that she did during the day.
By the time the weekend came around, I was thoroughly miserable. I couldn't settle to anything, not even reading a book, because all I could do was wonder as to where Harry was.
By lunchtime on Saturday, I snapped. Why shouldn't I go to the Dursleys and find out what was going on? What was the worst that could happen?
'Mum, I'm going to the library!' I shouted, quickly heading out of the door before she could say anything; I didn't want her to know where I was really going because no doubt she'd try and stop me.
I walked quickly round to number four, wondering what on earth I was going to do when I got there. I'd assumed that the Dursleys had done something to Harry, but what if he simply didn't want to see me anymore?
Trying to ignore these thoughts, I headed up the driveway and rapped on the front door. It was pulled open almost immediately by Petunia Dursley, who was wearing yellow marigolds and who did not look at all pleased to see me; evidently the pleasantness was merely a façade for my parents' sakes.
'Is Harry in?' I asked.
'Yes,' she said, her eyes watching me closely as though she thought I might run past her into the house 'But he's not coming out, he's been grounded.'
'What for?' I asked in as polite a tone as I could muster; the last thing I needed was Petunia phoning my mother to say that I'd been on her doorstep being rude.
Petunia's eyes narrowed in annoyance at my question, 'That is none of your business.'
'Well when will he be allowed out again?' I demanded, my polite tone slipping somewhat in the face of her hostility.
'In a day or two, I should think,' she snapped, 'Now why don't you go and find something else to do? Dudley is out somewhere and I'm sure you'd have a much better time with him.'
And with that, she promptly shut the door in my face. I stood there for a moment, marvelling at how she could be so nice to my parents but so rude to me. Taking a few steps away from the door, I glanced up at the house and found myself wondering wildly if I could climb up to Harry's bedroom window.
I soon realised the impracticalities of this. Firstly, I didn't have a ladder, and secondly I had an irrational but strong fear of heights. Come to think of it, I didn't even know which bedroom Harry's was. I'd never been in it, and he'd never mentioned anything about it before. Maybe it was the front bedroom, the one which I could see from my own room if I stuck my head out of the window.
'Now really! I asked you to leave.'
Petunia Dursley had reappeared while I'd been staring up at her house wondering how I could liberate Harry. She looked even crosser this time.
'Zara, unless you leave now, I will telephone your mother. I have already told you that Harry is not coming out.'
'I'm going, I'm going,' I said hurriedly, as I walked away from the house.
Petunia watched me all the way down the road, as though worried I might double back and sneak into her house somehow.
I didn't want to go home and spend the day with my mother, however, so I headed down a little alleyway and found myself in the park. It was practically empty apart from a couple of toddlers being helped down the slide by their mothers. I threw myself onto one of mine and Harry's usual swings and thought about what I'd just been told.
It was definitely too much of a coincidence for Harry to have done something else to get him into trouble; he was undoubtedly being punished for Vernon breaking the bottle of wine. But why? Did the Dursleys just want someone to blame for anything odd that happened?
As I thought about it, I realised that Harry was always being punished for strange things which happened- and a lot of strange things did seem to happen around Harry. There was the time when he'd somehow ended up on the school roof. He'd sworn to me that he'd just tried to jump behind the rubbish bins, and had no idea how he'd ended up on the building, but the Dursleys hadn't seemed to believe his excuse.
And then there was the incident on Dudley's birthday a month or so ago. On the Monday after the weekend, Dudley and his rat faced friend, Piers, had spent all day telling the class that they'd been attacked by an escaped snake at the zoo. I hadn't believed it until Harry confirmed that a boa constrictor had somehow got out of its glass cage; it had even been in my father's newspaper that evening. Somehow this incident had also been blamed on Harry, as though he had the ability to make glass disappear at will.
The Dursleys definitely liked to scapegoat Harry whenever something odd happened, I decided, as I scuffed my feet on the ground beneath the swing. From what I'd heard, Petunia had despised her sister when she was alive, and no doubt Harry's father too. I had no idea if Petunia's descriptions of them were accurate, but I highly doubted it. There must have been something to make Petunia hate her sister though. Maybe Harry's mum was prettier or cleverer, or maybe they had a big argument once. Whatever the reason, it meant that the Dursleys also despised Harry.
It was just so unfair.
A couple of days later, I was sitting in the living room when there was a knock on the door. As usual I rushed to get it and this time, to my amazement, Harry was standing outside. As soon as I saw him, I flung my arms round him and gave him a tight hug, which he returned cautiously; Harry definitely wasn't an overly emotional person.
'Hiya,' he grinned, once we'd separated.
'Where have you been?' I demanded at once, 'I went to your house but your aunt said you'd been grounded.'
'I know, I heard you when you came round,' he muttered dejectedly, 'I got the blame for the bottle breaking.'
'What?' I yelped, 'How could they think it was you?'
'You know I always get the blame whenever something like that happens.'
'You won't always have to live with them,' I said quietly, squeezing his hand as I took in how miserable he looked.
'Won't I?'
'No,' I insisted firmly, 'One day you'll be old enough to live on your own. You won't have to have anything to do with them after that.'
Harry smiled weakly at me, clearly thinking that this was too far in the future for his liking.
I looked properly at my best friend, and took in the pent up frustration behind those emerald eyes. I wished that I could help him in some way, but I was completely powerless to do so. My mother would be no use because she agreed with Petunia that Harry was 'the wrong sort,' and my father wouldn't do anything that would annoy Mum.
The only thing I could do was to keep him out of the Dursleys' way as much as possible.
'Let's go the park,' I suggested.
'Okay,' said Harry, giving me a genuine smile that managed to lift my mood.
Harry and I spent the next couple of weeks virtually joined at the hip. We were free from school, and that gave us the chance to do whatever we wanted all day. We spent hours in the park, lounging on our swings and verbally abusing Dudley (when he wasn't around of course.) We explored the estate so much that we knew it like the back of our hand and had numerous secret detours and hide-outs. We dragged more and more stuff up to my attic so that it was practically a mini house in itself, and spent ages up their pretending that we really did live in our own place away from our families.
It may not have seemed like a particularly exciting summer to anyone else, but for me and Harry it was perfect.
Of course my mother was not happy about these arrangements and whenever I got home from seeing Harry, she would take the opportunity to moan about it.
'Why can't you make friends with Dudley?' 'Don't you want to spend some time with girl friends?' 'I wish you wouldn't mess around in that dirty park' were some of her favourite sayings.
I largely ignored her, however, and as July began to draw to a close, Harry and I continued to spend all our time together. On the Monday of the last week of the month, Harry and I met as normal. We were sitting in my attic, when he told me something unusual.
'A letter arrived for me this morning,' he said, as he took out a couple of cokes from the old mini fridge we had up there.
'And?' I said, more interested in my drink than some letter.
'It was weird,' frowned Harry, looking deep in thought, 'I never get letters from anyone.'
'Well who was this one from?'
'That's the thing. Uncle Vernon took it from me before I could read it.'
'There's nothing weird about that, Harry,' I said, pulling a face, 'It's just your uncle being an idiot as per usual.'
'No it was different,' insisted Harry, 'He and my aunt were really… I dunno, worried by it.'
'By a letter?' I asked, raising my eyebrows.
'Yeah,' said Harry, 'but I can't think what it could have said.'
'Okay, Harry,' I said, trying not to laugh.
As the week progressed, however, I had to admit that my curiosity was piqued. These mysterious letters arrived for Harry every morning, and each day there would be more and more of them. Apparently Vernon still hadn't let Harry get his hands on any of them, and was attempting to stop them being delivered altogether; his efforts were so far proving futile.
'Maybe they're from a long lost relative,' I suggested.
'I wish!' replied Harry, 'Maybe they say that I've inherited loads of money.'
'Or maybe they contain a big secret about the Dursleys.'
'Maybe I've won a prize.'
'Maybe you're being adopted by a celebrity.'
Our suggestions as to what the letters contained grew more and more ridiculous as the week progressed, so that by Friday we were seriously contemplating the possibility that Harry had been accepted for astronaut training at NASA.
I returned home from the park on Friday evening, to find my mother flicking through a recipe book and muttering to herself about dishes.
'The Dursleys are coming round for lunch on Sunday,' she told me, as she peered at a recipe for garlic crusted beef.
The fun mood which I'd been in from discussing the letters instantly vanished. My mother's friendship with Petunia Dursley had emerged unscathed from wine bottle-gate, much to my dismay. I had hoped, however, that we wouldn't have to have another dinner party. I had a horrible feeling that if even the smallest thing went wrong then Harry would be in trouble.
As usual, however, my mother ignored me and pressed on with her plans. Two days later, Sunday arrived, bringing with it an extravagant home-cooked meal and another monstrous dress for me to be forced in to.
'Do you think there'll be enough beef, Mark?' she asked my father as she peered into the oven.
'Yes dear,' replied Dad without looking up from his newspaper.
'I just want today to be perfect,' insisted my mother, looking rather frazzled as she dashed around the kitchen, 'Petunia has been acting very oddly this past week. She seems worried about something.'
So Petunia obviously hadn't told my mother about these mysterious letters that were apparently worrying her so much. This intrigued me more than anything because I couldn't think of any subject matter that Petunia would consider it appropriate to gossip about.
'It'll be fine,' my father reassured my mother, still flicking through The Telegraph.
But it soon became clear that all wasn't fine. The Dursleys were due to come round at twelve o clock, but that time came and went with no sign of them. My father phoned the house but there was no answer. By half one, I was starting to panic slightly. They were never usually late for anything, what if they'd done something to Harry?
'For God's sake, the beef is ruined!' exclaimed my mother, pulling a blackened piece of meat from the oven, 'Where on earth are they?'
'It is a bit odd,' conceded my father, glancing at the clock, 'Maybe they got the wrong day.'
'Maybe,' said my mother although she didn't look convinced. Her eyes fell on me, 'Zara, will you please run round and see if everything's okay?'
For once I jumped at the chance to do something for my mother, and hurried to get my shoes on. I practically sprinted to number four, and knew immediately that they weren't there because of the absence of Vernon's car, which he usually liked to keep on display on the driveway.
I knocked on the front door anyway, but wasn't at all surprised that no one answered. This was very odd. The Dursleys may have had many faults, but they were always organised and punctual. Feeling curious, I pressed my face against the glass panes of the front door. There was something there, on the floor.
The nature of the glass in the front door meant I couldn't see properly, so I ran to the living room window and peered in there.
Letters.
There were letters absolutely everywhere, hundreds of them. They all looked the same, and although I couldn't make out the name of the addressee on the envelope, I was certain that these were more of the odd letters which Harry had been receiving all week.
There were so many of them though. Who on earth would send that many letters to one person? It'd cost a fortune!
Feeling there was little point in remaining there, I began walking home, my mind whirling. Who was sending all these letters, and why were they causing the Dursleys such worry? Had the Dursleys disappeared today because of the letters, and if so, where had they gone?
'Well, did you see them?' demanded my mother when I walked back into the kitchen.
'No,' I said, shaking my head, 'There was no one there. Vernon's car had gone.'
I couldn't explain to myself why I didn't mention the letters, but I just had a strong feeling that I shouldn't tell my parents anything about them.
My parents exchanged perplexed looks, clearly as confused as I was.
The Dursleys never turned up for lunch, nor did they return home on Monday or Tuesday.
On Wednesday morning, just as my parents were debating whether or not they should call the police and report the Dursleys missing, the telephone rang and my mother rushed to answer it.
'Hello?'
A voice buzzed on the other end of the line.
'Oh it's you, Petunia!' exclaimed my mother, 'We've been worried about you all, where have you been?'
Petunia said something in response and my mother looked sympathetic, 'Oh no that's awful. I hope you're all okay now… no, don't worry about Sunday…no, it's fine… I'll pop round and see you once you've all recovered properly.'
'Mystery solved,' she announced, as she put the phone down, 'They were hospitalised with food poisoning. Apparently Petunia cooked a chicken on Saturday night, the oven didn't work probably and they didn't realise it was undercooked until they'd started eating.'
'All of them had food poisoning?' asked my father in disbelief.
My mother shrugged, 'Apparently the chicken was almost raw.'
This explanation seemed perfectly acceptable to my parents, both of whom continued eating their breakfast as though they hadn't a care in the world. I, however, couldn't relax. There was something odd going on.
The following morning, I raced round to number four, having been forbidden from going on Wednesday in case they were still ill.
Petunia opened the door, and she did certainly look as though she'd been under the weather. Her skin was pale and several worry lines were etched across her forehead as though she were under great stress.
'Is Harry in?' I asked quickly, before she could try and get rid of me.
To my surprise, however, Petunia didn't say anything. Instead, she merely jerked her head in the direction of the stairs and then disappeared into the kitchen without a word.
Ignoring her strange behaviour, I dashed up the stairs and looked around the landing; I had no idea which room was Harry's.
'Harry?'
Almost immediately, the door on my left was pulled open and Harry appeared in the doorway, looking surprised to see me. The contrast between him and Petunia was immense. While she looked as though she'd recently had an unpleasant shock, Harry looked better than I'd ever seen him. I couldn't explain it, but he seemed to radiate with anticipation.
'Hi,' he said, in what was a slight anti-climax.
'Hello,' I replied, feeling slightly awkward for some reason, 'Are you okay?'
'Yeah,' he grinned, not looking at all like he'd just been ill.
I stared at him for a moment, and then looked pointedly at his bedroom door, 'Can't I come in?'
Harry turned round to look in his bedroom, 'Erm, not really. I've got some stuff in there…'
He closed the door before I could peer inside the room, 'Listen, Zara, this isn't a great time.'
I stared at him disbelievingly; never once had either of us not wanted to hang out together.
'Where have you been?' I blurted out, 'There's no way you had food poisoning- you look brilliant.'
Harry blushed for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. Those emerald eyes looked into mine and I saw a spark there that I'd never seen before.
'The Dursleys had food poisoning,' he said after a minute, 'That's why they look so awful, and why they've been away.'
'What about you?' I probed, 'Did you find out who was sending those letters?'
As soon as I mentioned the letters, a grin broke out on his face that he failed to supress.
'Yeah, I did.' He took a deep breath, 'I've got a place at another school. It turns out my parents put my name down for it when I was born.'
I was stunned into silence for a moment. While we'd considered endless ideas as to what the letters could contain, I'd never thought it would be something like this.
'Where is this school?' I said after a while, in a small voice.
'In Scotland. My parents both went there, it's how they met.' Harry said all this in an incredibly excited voice, with a wide smile plastered across his face.
'You're going to Scotland?' I breathed, finding that my chest was constricting slightly. I'd reconciled myself to the fact that we would be going to separate schools, but I assumed they would be close to one another. If he went to Scotland he would never come home except during the holidays!
'Yeah!' he was smiling as though it was the best thing in the world.
'I have to go,' I said suddenly.
I turned on my heel, ran down the stairs and back out of the house. It was only when I'd hurried down the street and reached my own road that I turned back to look at number four.
Harry hadn't followed me.
My mother finally got her wish- I didn't see Harry again for the rest of the summer holidays. For some reason that I couldn't quite explain, I was furious with him. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I was so upset that I'd hardly see him again, and this was channelled into anger at him. Why did he want to go to boarding school in Scotland? Didn't he care that we would only see each other in the school holidays if he did?
I also knew there was something that I wasn't being told. Harry and I were closer than siblings, so I realised that he was keeping something from me. Why had he only just heard about this school? And why was he sent that many letters about it?
I mulled over these thoughts for the entire month of August, otherwise known as the four most miserable weeks of my life. Harry didn't come and see me, and I didn't go over to number four. Instead, I spent my days reading virtually every book in Little Whinging's library or- when it was unavoidable- going out with my mother.
By the time August drew to a close, I found that I was almost pleased to be going to Smeltings. It would be a fresh start, good or bad.
On the final day of August, I found myself treading the familiar route to the park that evening. I was under no delusion that I would see Harry, but I realised that I wanted to go there one final time before I left for school.
The place was deserted, so I trailed over to the swings and sat down on one, wrapping my arm around the chain. I was so consumed by my own thoughts that I didn't immediately realise when someone else took a seat on the swing beside me.
I looked up to see a familiar mess of black hair and green eyes.
'Hi,' I said, staring back down at the floor rather than at Harry.
'Hey,' he said.
We were silent for a while, both of us scuffing the ground with our feet and making the swings move slightly.
'Zara.'
Reluctantly, I swivelled round to face Harry. His eyes were burning into mine, as if trying to emphasise his words.
'I told you before that we'll always be friends, no matter what school we go to.'
I scoffed at this, 'Don't be stupid, Harry. We'll forget about each other within a week.'
I didn't mean any of this, but the harshness of my words still made him flinch slightly.
'I have to go to this school, Zara,' he said quietly, 'I just have to. I can't stay here, I really can't.'
I wanted to stay angry with him, to scream that he should go to Stonewall so we could see each other. But I couldn't. Harry was my best friend and if he wanted to go to this unknown school that his parents had signed him up for, then I realised that I couldn't argue with that. After ten years with the Dursleys, he deserved this.
And so, despite myself, I reached over and squeezed his hand in my own, just as I had done on the night of the infamous dinner party.
'We'll stay friends, Zara, I promise.'
Okay I apologise for disappointing you, but Zara isn't a witch- this story will be set during the Hogwarts/ Smeltings school holidays. The next chapter will be set immediately after Harry's first year at Hogwarts. It may become slightly AU in that Harry spends more time in Privet Drive rather than at the Weasleys', but I'm not sure yet. It will also become a romance later on…
Oh I'm also sorry that this has been posted later than I promised! I was going to put it up the other day but I realised it needed some editing.
As always, thanks for reading. Please leave me a review!
