Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, it belongs to J. K. Rowling.
Some of the text is taken directly from the books. That text is in bold.
This chapter takes place in the book "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone".
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Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew and niece on their front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the 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 nigh when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about about. 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 bobble hats, but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout 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 two children lived in the house, too. Yet Harry and Iris Potter were still there.
Having awoken at least an hour ago, Iris was laying in her twin bed enjoying the tranquility of the house knowing that soon the tranquility would be shattered. Eventually her aunt would awaken and demands for her and her brother would start.
Making breakfast, cleaning house, vacuuming, gardening, mowing grass, cooking dinner, washing dishes - those were the chores most often done by her or Harry. The rest was done by their Aunt Petunia. Their aunt and uncle often told them not to be ungrateful for letting them live under their roof and feeding them and said that the chores were the least they could do to repay the Dursleys. Thankfully, there were two of them or doing the chores would have been a nightmare. With the two of them, the chores were split between them. Harry usually took on the gardening, while Iris - the cooking. This was because it, long ago, became apparent that Iris had something of a black thumb. Thus, from then on, Harry was the one sent to tend the garden.
Iris sighed and turned her head to look at her brother. Although they were twins, they didn't really look alike aside from their eyes. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, messy black hair and bright-green eyes. His face was marred by a lightning scar. Usually, he wore round glasses held together by a lot of Sellotape because of all the times their cousin Dudley had punched him on the nose. She was a tad taller than him. She was red-haired with piercing green eyes. Iris, also, didn't need any glasses. While with effort one could notice some similarities in their facial features, at first glance it truly wasn't apparent that they were twins or closely related, except if one looked at their eyes.
"Up! Get up! Now!" Aunt Petunia was awake, and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.
Her brother woke up with a start. Their aunt rapped on the door again.
"Up!" she screeched and then walked towards the kitchen.
Iris growled under her breath and got out of her bed, out of the corner of her eye seeing Harry doing the same. Today was Dudley's birthday and their aunt wanted for the day to be perfect. As cooking breakfast usually fell on her shoulders, she had to go downstairs and make breakfast while seeing the pile of presents Dudley got. It was always worse on Christmas, Easter and Dudley's birthday, seeing people gathering and celebrating together. These were all family celebrations but Dursleys didn't think of the twins as family. Though Iris had long ago stopped seeing the Dursleys as her family, inside she still burned with envy for how loving Aunt Petunia was to Dudley.
Harry entered the kitchen while Iris was turning over the bacon.
"Comb your hair!" Uncle Vernon barked at Harry. 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.
Iris 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 - to Iris Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
Dudley was very fat and hated exercise - unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punch-bags were the twins, but he couldn't often catch Harry. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast. Meanwhile, Iris had managed to make a positive impression on the librarian and, thus, was free to hide in the local library.
Iris 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 Mummy and Daddy."
"All right then, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. The twins, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down their bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. 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.
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.
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Iris and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games and a video recorder. 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 broke her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in the twins' direction.
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror while Harry's face showed his hope for possibly accompanying the Dursleys to the zoo.
Every year on Dudley's birthday his parents took him and a friend to adventure parks, hamburger bars or the cinema. Every year, Iris and Harry were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old cat lady. Both Harry and Iris hated it there. Mrs. Figg's house smelled of cabbage and she made them look at all the cats she'd ever owned. Normally, Iris rather liked cats but looking at the photos of all the woman's pets was a terrible bore.
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at the twins as though they'd planned this.
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
"Don't be silly Vernon, she hates them both."
"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"
"On holiday in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.
"You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully. While Iris would have liked to go to the library, she wasn't opposed to remaining in Privet Drive 4 rather than going to Mrs. Figg's or some other stranger's house.
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 them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave them in the car..."
"That car's new, they're 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 them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.
"I ... don't ... want ... them ... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.
"We could go to the library or the park," suggested Iris, not wishing for the Dursleys to decide to bring them along.
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.
"So, library?" Iris asked Aunt Petunia in a louder voice, not wishing to have to go with the Dursleys and Piers Polkiss to the zoo.
Aunt Petunia looked away from the guests and frowned at her niece despite saying:
"Yes, hurry up on getting ready, I want you out of the house before we leave."
Having received the answer she was hoping for, Iris hurriedly finished her meal and put her empty dishes into the sink, Harry doing the same at her side. Then, they went upstairs to collect their books - Iris to return to the library, Harry to read in the park.
Her brother wasn't that into reading, Dursleys having discouraged that when they punished them for getting better marks than Dudley. Harry had stopped putting a lot of effort into learning but Iris continued, refusing to become like Petunia - a housewife whose husband and children were her entire world. To avoid that, she needed good marks so she could find a good-earning job herself. Her secret goal was to be successful, if possible - rich, and have a happy and large family.