People Like Me
A Harry Potter fan fiction by Iapetus
Disclaimer: I didn't write HP, hence the reason it is on FF.net.
Thanks to Willowish for being my beta-reader. You really helped me out!
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Petunia Dursley was in a foul mood. Last night had one of the worst rainstorms Privet Drive had seen in years and no one had gotten that much sleep. The sun never seemed to peek out through the rain clouds anymore, for the weather had been terrible all week. She could handle hearing the branches of the trees knocking against the outside of the house, but shuttered to think of what the yard would look like.
But she could not stand that owl for one more night.
Her nephew, whose bedroom door she quickly walked to, was the cause of this. It was always his fault. She knocked sharply at his door, but there was no answer. Frustrated, she knocked again - louder. Still, no response.
Abandoning her disgust at she was going to find inside, she pushed open the door, and looked around. There wasn't much furniture in the room- just a desk, a bed, a bookcase built into the wall, and two bedside tables. He had pushed the bed against the wall, and put one of the nightstands next to it. The other stand was in a corner, and had the dratted bird's cage sitting on it. Looking down at the floor, she saw that he had had to shimmy his nightstand so it wouldn't rattle around. Petunia was glad enough that the boy had gotten enough sense to be able to fix that problem - because her husband wasn't going to fix it for him. Yet, it disgusted her how he would care more about the owl than himself. He had taken the worse nightstand, which looked as though it would give you splinters by touching it.
Well, as weird as it is, she thought, it is a good idea. If that shimmy fell out, and the bird's cage kept rattling around, the stupid animal would probably screech its lungs out so that everyone could hear. She had already got many questioning looks from neighbors who had thought that the Dursley's had lost their minds. They could have sworn seeing several owls - not just the white one her nephew called Hedwig - fly to and from his window. Vernon, her husband, had spent a lot of time trying to explain it away as a trick of the eyes, but they were still suspicious.
Her eyes tore away from the furniture itself, and looked on what was upon them. When the room had been her son's spare, he put all the books he never read to a place he would not be able to get to easily. When he was at school last year though, he sold them all to a bookworm so he could buy more sweets. Now, instead of Classic Literature, there were several textbooks, and each title made her cringe as she read. The Standard Book of Spells (Grades 1-4, all in the same spot), 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi, and Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them were among the many he had. She was glad his room was at the back of the house; no one would then be able to come in and see this abomination. She'd be laughed right out of the bloody neighborhood. Oh, she wouldn't be able to stand what would be said about her then…
On an empty shelf, she saw something that looked like a spinning top , two books (Quidditch Through the Ages and Flying With the Cannons), and a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans. Horror flashed across her face as she read the label, and she tried not to look back at the bag. What she saw next didn't improve her mood.
On the desk were several scrolls of parchment, two quills, and a bottle of ink. Apparently, the boy had been working on homework, or writing a letter. Curiosity overcame her and she picked up the piece of parchment to read it.
It was a letter, and it was to her nephew's Godfather Sirius Black, the mass murderer. Why in the world does he have to keep writing to him? she thought furiously. Doesn't he have any respect for us? She skimmed the letter, which mostly spoke of things she considered nonsense. Things like apparating, a Goblet of Fire, a Triwizard Tournament Harry had been in, and…
…Voldemort.
It was a name she would not soon forget. Because, it was his fault that she got landed with raising her sister's son, and it was his fault that- She shook her head, as if to get the image out of her head. She didn't like to think about it.
Lastly, on the bed with the old comforter, Petunia saw her sister's son. Harry Potter was sleeping restlessly in bed. He was turning and thrashing, as if in a nightmare. Then, suddenly, all the muscles in his face tensed, and his hands flew to the scar on his forehead. He seemed to be in so much agony, as if someone was burning it into his head for the first time. Eyes popping open, he looked around to get his bearings.
He sighed, and (as Petunia had also felt in his situation) looked glad that it was just a dream. In spite of this, he still had a lingering fear remaining in his face. She had no idea why this would be- after all, wasn't it just a dream?
He then tensed up, seeing his aunt standing in front of him. Petunia came crashing back to earth, remembering what she came in for.
"Get out of bed!" she snapped, "I already knocked twice, and you wouldn't get up." He groped for he glasses and put them on. "I need you to clean the attic today."
He muttered an apology, and got groggily out of bed. She went to leave.
"And hurry down for breakfast, if you want any. Otherwise, I'm putting it down the garbage disposal." With that, she stormed out of the room. It wasn't until she was in the kitchen that she realized she had forgotten to talk to him about the owl
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Her disposition didn't improve as the day went on. The storm had sent a small branch into a windowpane, and the shattered glass lay in hundreds of fragments over the front door carpet. Rain had gotten in, and she could already see water damage from her side of the door.
Something about the storm unnerved her. Maybe that was why she had been so intrigued (even though it disgusted her) about her nephew's room. Her mind drifted back to his letter. She didn't get to read the whole thing- he had woken up while she was skimming it. Had it not been for the contents of the letter she would not have bothered.
The nosy part of her personality started to flare up, but so did her pride. What would her husband think if he found her going through Harry's things? But no, he was on a work trip for Grunnings, in Kent for the rest of the week. Her son, who was almost as nosy as herself, was at his best friend Piers' house, and Harry was up in the attic cleaning.
Throwing down her dishrag, she forced herself to not stomp upstairs (as she often did when she was resolute about something). Listening intently to make sure her nephew didn't hear what she was doing, she sneaked back into his room.
The dratted owl cage was still empty. It wasn't there earlier in the morning, and she hadn't heard it come in. The letter (which had a great deal more writing on it) was lying out to dry. So as not to smudge the ink (and give herself away), she sat down at his desk, and began to read.
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Ok, so what did you think? There are two more chapters after this. If you like it, review. If you hated it, review. Either way, I would love you to review my story and tell me how I did. I haven't seen too many Aunt Petunia POVs out there, so I wanted to be a bit different.
-Iapetus