Title: Persona
Author: me3gogi
E-mail: me3gogi@hotmail.com
Rating: R?
Disclaimer: As I said, it does not belong to me.
Feedback: Please.
Summary: This is all covered in the part b4 – go read that!
A/N: Now, the only question is – does Harry stay with the Dursleys as it goes in the book, where he could wreak havoc, or is he left on the streets, or does he go to an orphanage, or do they leave him on someone else's doorstep? Ooh, the possibilities are endless! ^Well.^ Yes?
^Well, he could . . . ::whispering::^ ::agreeable:: Hmmm.
Tumble outta bed
And a' stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
Yawn and stretch and try to come to life
Jumpin' in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin'
Out on the streets
The traffic starts jumpin'
And folks like me on the job from 9 to 5
Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin'
And no givin'
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it
9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that I
Would deserve a fair promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss won't seem to let me in
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me
Mmmmm...
They let your dream
Just a' watch 'em shatter
You're just a step
On the boss man's a' ladder
But you got dream he'll never take away
On the same boat
With a lot of your friends
Waitin' for the day
Your ship'll come in
And the tide's gonna turn
An' it's all gonna roll you away
Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin'
And no givin'
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
It's enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it
9 to 5, yeah, they got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you think that I would daunt you
It's a rich man's game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Puttin money in his wallet
Workin' 9 to 5
Oh, What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin'
And no givin'
They just use you mind
And they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it
9 to 5, yeah, they got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you dream about it, don't you
It's a rich man's game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Puttin money in his wallet
9 to 5
Dolly Parton
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Chapter Two: Where boys are prodded and shouting becomes an art
On a discernible perfectly normal morning, on a perfectly normal day, in the quite town of Surrey, in Little Whinging, in the perfectly normal street named Privet Drive, the door of the absolutely normal house number 4, the front door opened.
All like a perfectly normal day.
But, this was not a normal day, so from there, events did not quite go, as a normal day would propose.
A loud shriek split the air, and, as liable on such a quite normal street, lace curtains twitched, occupants looking at the drama from the private of their homes.
"VERNON! VERNON! Come here!"
A quick shuffling was heard from inside, and a large bearing man came into view beside the horse-faced woman holding two empty milk bottles at the door.
"Petunia dear, what is it-"
"Can't you see what it is!"
Peering down, Vernon Dursley stood rooted to the ground, staring in shock at the bundle on his doorstep.
"Well? Don't just stare at it! Do something!"
Looking quickly around, fugitively, he stooped to pick up the bundle, shuffling back inside.
"Don't take it inside! Get rid of it!" she shrieked, pointing her finger outside to the bin.
"Petunia dear, you're making a scene."
At this, she glanced around, and seeing the curtains twitching, gathered herself quickly, straightened her dress and patted down her hair. Then, bending down to deposit the empty milk bottles she had miraculously kept hold of, she swept inside behind her husband, closing the door with a final thud.
Despite the resonate sound, curtains all down the street were ruffled as if by a permanent breeze for the next ten minutes hence.
Inside, a lot more was going on. The small bundle was sending up a squall, set off by all of the shouting and the loud wails coming from the rooms upstairs. Vernon was pacing the room, wringing his hands, his face a dark shade of red. His wife was scowling while she sat on the sofa, the small bundle in the middle of the coffee table, as if neither of them wanted to admit it was there. Forget all about it and the troubles it proposed.
"Oh shut that thing up! Petunia! Go quiet Dudley!"
She hurried up to the stairs, nearly tripping in her angry haste to reach her child. She swept down the small hall to the bedroom door from where the sounds were emitting. Pushing the door forward, she strode inside, where she bent over the small bed and sat next to the chubby boy inside, rocking him uncomfortably for a minute.
Mr Dursley, downstairs in the living room continued his frantic pacing, increasingly loosing control with each minute. His fist tightened over a scrunched up letter in his hand. Finally though, he lost his patience with waiting by himself.
"Come back in here woman! Bring Dudley if you must but come in here!" his voice rang through into the room, his tone conveying his immense anger. Her shrill voice screamed back at him,
"I'm not subjecting my baby boy to that, that, that – thing over there!"
Even so, she placed the boy back into the bed, and handed him a stuffed bear. But as he chucked it away, she quickly stopped him from crying out by returning it and a putting small chocolate bar in his hand. He smiled happily, and as she left the room, he threw his toy after her, bringing the melting sweet bar in his hand to his mouth.
A voice roared for her just as she entered the room, "Petunia!"
As she stormed once again down the stairs, a few of which creaked, she glowered, not noticing the small form above her, peering down at her through the banisters. When she entered the room, still scowling, he grunted at her and continued his pacing. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the situation, and waited impatiently, tapping her foot, for her husband.
"Well?"
He didn't interrupt his pacing for her.
"Well?"
"Well what woman? Can't you see that I'm thinking?"
"Thinking? Thinking!? About what? What do you need to think about! Get that thing out!" her shrill voice resonated around the room, causing the small boy in the doorway to wince. Quietly, he crept forward to the table to see what was in the bundle.
"Vernon!"
Her voice had hit the pitch that the glass windows shook slightly. Not noticeably, but nevertheless, shook.
The bundle quietened with a hiccuped sob and as light filtered onto the wide green eyes peeking out from underneath the cloth, which was peeling back, what was wrapped in the bundle stared up.
"What?"
"Get that thing out of my house!"
The cloth was peeled back further, sticky hands leaving chocolate fingerprints on the pale cloth as Dudley Dursley peered at the little boy inside it.
"It's not my responsibility-"
Grinning, he had a glint in his eye, and started poking the boy in the side. The bundle started to squirm away from the insistent fingers, which had viscously started to prod him deeply in the side. His voice started to wail quietly as felt the fingers digging into his side rather maliciously. The two adults across the room did not notice, as their argument became more heated.
"Are you suggesting that it's mine?"
"I read that bloody letter! Who else could it mean! It's your bloody abnormal sister freak and your bloody abnormal sister's husband and your bloody sister's son! It's your fault!"
His voice had raised to a roar, and he faced his wife, his hand clenched at his sides, hers pointing and gesturing at where the bundle lay upon the table as she shrieked.
"Get. It. Out. Of. My. House!"
The windows were visibly shaking now, Mrs Dursleys voice hitting that note again, her gesturing were becoming frantic as she insisted upon her point, her husband facing her, red in the face and visibly restraining himself from moving, imminent from the violent shaking of his body.
She turned to glance at the bundle, and let out a second scream at the image of her darling boy coming into contact with the thing on the table.
"Dudley!"
Her voice had hit new notes of resonance, the glass quaking in their sitting room windows.
Vernon swivelled round, his eyes deepening and becoming smaller in his face as the narrowed into black dots at what he saw.
"Dudley. Get away from there now!"
The boy scurried to the door and out of the room, with two sets of eyes following him.
"Well dear, I think that that covers it. No question at all. Can't have him contaminating our Dudley now can we?"
She humphed and followed her boy upstairs to his room, without even a glance to the unwrapped bundle on the table.
With an untoward glare at the boy, now playing with the edges of its blanket, happy now that the voices had quietened, he snorted. Gathering up the white envelope near the table, which had drifted down as Dudley drew back the cloth covering the boy, he turned his back on the boy, uncaring that no one would be watching him so that no harm befell him.
Storming into the kitchen, he watched, satisfied with the fire consuming the pale white paper, words burning crisply, scattering the fine almost black ash over the hob. He stared at it till the entire sheet was consumed, then added the envelope, leaning forward to prod its entire over the flame and settling down again to watch.
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Thank you anyone who actually read this, and I promise another chapter as long as people review this one first.
And – as I've just started off this story – any comments on how you think it should go from here is fine by me. It will be much appreciated, and I will try to give credit to those who have helped.
As long as you take into consideration the summary, and follow the basic outline of the actual book – it should be fine with me, and I will take any ideas any of u tell me about into account.
Help me out! I have a muse to feed after all. ^I thought u had forgotten me.^ Not a chance. Now you have to tell me what u were talking about in the last chapter!
Mwhahahaha!