Chapter One
Chapter One
The Visitor
Harry
was bored.
After four long, hard, extremely life threatening/fun years at Hogwarts,
his prospects for fun had been dampened once again by his horrible relatives.
Harry was anticipating his fifth year at Hogwarts, which would begin in
two weeks, when his Uncle Vernon burst into his room. Luckily, the large man failed to notice the spellbook in
Harry's hand. He was busy
carrying in a raggedy-looking sleeping bag and trying to lay it out flat on the
floor.
"Um…
what are you doing?"
Vernon
Dursley's only answer was a grunt. Ever
since the previous summer, when the Weasley's had accidentally blown up the
Dursley's living room, the Dursleys had been acting as if Harry did not exist.
Although this was nothing new to Harry, and he actually enjoyed the
silence most of the time, it had become rather tedious.
Harry decided to try again.
"Why
are you putting that in here? There's
a bed right in front of you."
"Don't
talk back to me, boy," grumbled Mr. Dursley, "We've got a visitor staying
in the house for several weeks, and I told him he could stay in your room."
"Well,
don't you think you should get him a better sleeping bag?"
Harry's
comment was well-deserved. The
brown sleeping bag was rotting, a result of Dudley's ripping the seams and
trying to sneak a family of tadpoles home when he was about three.
The bag was large enough to fit a horse, and Vernon was indeed looking as
if the room would be too small. He
threw the bag in a heap and grabbed a load of broken toys.
He chucked them out of the window into a dumpster beneath.
"Our
guest will be sleeping on that bed. The
sleeping bag is for you."
Harry
stared at it in disgust. Quite
apart from its brown color and reeking odor, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that
it had never been cleaned after Dudley wet it.
"I'm
not sleeping in that thing!"
"You
will and you'll like it, boy, or you'll find your own way to that ruddy
school of yours. Alone!"
This
suited Harry just fine, except for the fact that he had no Muggle money, and the
Dursleys were very unlikely to give him any.
"I'll
just sleep on the floor with a spare blanket."
"Suit
yourself, but if I hear one word of complaint out of our guest…"
"Who is coming to stay at your house for two weeks?"
Vernon
Dursley rubbed his chin pensively. The
combination of this gesture and him acting as if Harry was a putrescent piece of
slime made for a very comical expression. Vernon
Dursley seemed to notice this, because he jerked his hand down suddenly.
"He's
a house guest from one of my most important clients ever.
He's going to London the same day you are to go to school as part of an
exchange program. I offered my
house because we do have a spare room most of the year."
He glared at Harry. "I
expect him to be treated as if he was one of the family.
That means that you will not be talking to him or showing any evidence
whatsoever of your… abnormality." He
stared at Harry. Harry stared right
back at him and said,
"Fine.
Whatever. I'll sleep on
the floor if you want. Where's he
exchanging from?"
"America,
so don't make any funny jokes about Americans while he's here.
He's from California, so I expect he'll be something of a sight
around here."
"Whatever,"
Harry said.
Harry flopped back down onto his bed.
If there's someone staying in my room, he thought, then I'd
better hide this lot. With
great regret, he packed his magical books and supplies back into his trunk,
which he stored in the corner of his room.
He unlatched Hedwig's cage and told her to go and wait for him at
Ron's house. She nipped him affectionately and flew off.
After his stuff was packed away, Harry marched glumly down the stairs.
Thunder boomed as he walked toward the kitchen.
He was stopped in his tracks by the doorbell ringing.
He walked over to the door. Bracing
himself, he opened the door.
His first thought was that someone had placed a very tall, bulky, flowery
plant on the doorstep as a practical joke.
As the stranger stepped into the light, Harry saw that a tall young man
dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and Hawaiian board shorts stood before him.
He was carrying a large trunk underneath his right arm, and a large,
oriental umbrella in the other. A
hiking backpack covered the stranger's waist-length blonde hair, which was
pulled back into a ponytail. His
long bangs hung down over his right eye, and the stranger pulled them over to
the side to allow him to see Harry better.
As Harry stood there motionless, the stranger stared right back at Harry
with a bewildered look on his face. The
stranger gaped a few seconds, leaned backwards to make sure the number on the
house was Four Privet Drive, and then extended his hand and smiled.
"Hey!
I'm Myk. Is Mr. Vernon
Dursley home?" The stranger made
an odd clicking noise at the end of his name, which made his name sound like,
"My-k."
As
he spoke, Harry tilted his head to look at the guitar strapped onto Myk's
backpack. Harry's bangs fell
aside, revealing his scar. Harry
didn't notice the look of total astonishment on Myk's face.
Uncle Vernon came briskly to the door.
"Harry!
Ahem. Please invite our
guest inside," he said, in an oddly strained voice.
"Welcome
to Privet Drive, Myk." Mr.
Dursley pronounced his name without the odd
clicking
noise, as if it was simply "Mike."
"That's
Myk. My-k," Myk corrected,
stepping inside. Once in the door,
Harry saw that
Myk
was well over six feet tall, probably about six foot six.
Myk dodged the chandelier
in
the hallway as he walked into the kitchen and greeted the remaining Dursleys.
Harry
just
stood there, although he didn't know why until he remembered the look that Myk
had
given
him. It was the look that wizard
people gave him when they realized they were seeing the Harry Potter.
The same look exactly.
