Harry bounded down the steps towards the front door. He was running at full
speed and THUD! He ran into Dudley. "Oh man, not now." Harry thought to
himself. All he needed was for this girl to see him with all his body parts
connected in the right order.
"Hey Potter, where do you think you're going?" Dudley asked, curling his fingers into a fist.
"Oh, just going outside for some air." Harry said, thinking of millions of ways to escape, each stupider than the one before.
"I think I'll come then." Dudley said smugly. He never missed a chance to beat up Harry in public.
The cousins walked outside and Harry glanced wistfully at the girl next door, who was still reading. Dudley saw the look and smirked. "Oh, I see we have a lovesick puppy over here." he sneered, "I think, Potter, that she might be a bit too pretty for you. Besides, you'd never work up enough courage to talk to her." Harry didn't hear the last few words; he was already on his way next door.
"Hi." Harry said nervously.
The girl looked up. She seemed startled at being disturbed from her reading, but not angry. "Oh, hi."
"I live next door," Harry said, trying to make conversation, "and I saw your car pull in. I thought you might want someone to show you around."
"Really? That would be great! I just moved here from New York. I've lived a lot of other places, but I always end up back there. By the way, I'm Isabella McGallaghager. And you are?"
"Harry Potter." Harry stuck out his hand and Isabella shook it. She looked a little startled. Just then, the screen door opened, and a friendly looking couple who seemed to be in their mid-forties stepped out onto the porch.
"This is Harry," Isabella said to the couple, "he offered to show mw around the neighborhood."
"Nice to meet you." Harry said.
"You kids have a good time. Remember Isabella, dinners at six-thirty."
"Your parents are nice." Harry said to start a conversation. He could see now that Isabella's eyes were a wonderful shade of blue-green; they reminded him of the ocean.
"They aren't my parents. They're my foster parents. My real parents died when I was a baby. This is like the eighth time I've moved with a new family this year!" Isabella seemed ready to cry, but she held back the tears. "I never liked any of them."
"Oh, I'm sorry. My parents died when I was a baby, too. I live with my aunt and uncle."
"Oh, we're a lot alike then." Isabella said, trying to sound surprised at the news Harry had just given her. But she had known it her whole life.
"Hey Potter, where do you think you're going?" Dudley asked, curling his fingers into a fist.
"Oh, just going outside for some air." Harry said, thinking of millions of ways to escape, each stupider than the one before.
"I think I'll come then." Dudley said smugly. He never missed a chance to beat up Harry in public.
The cousins walked outside and Harry glanced wistfully at the girl next door, who was still reading. Dudley saw the look and smirked. "Oh, I see we have a lovesick puppy over here." he sneered, "I think, Potter, that she might be a bit too pretty for you. Besides, you'd never work up enough courage to talk to her." Harry didn't hear the last few words; he was already on his way next door.
"Hi." Harry said nervously.
The girl looked up. She seemed startled at being disturbed from her reading, but not angry. "Oh, hi."
"I live next door," Harry said, trying to make conversation, "and I saw your car pull in. I thought you might want someone to show you around."
"Really? That would be great! I just moved here from New York. I've lived a lot of other places, but I always end up back there. By the way, I'm Isabella McGallaghager. And you are?"
"Harry Potter." Harry stuck out his hand and Isabella shook it. She looked a little startled. Just then, the screen door opened, and a friendly looking couple who seemed to be in their mid-forties stepped out onto the porch.
"This is Harry," Isabella said to the couple, "he offered to show mw around the neighborhood."
"Nice to meet you." Harry said.
"You kids have a good time. Remember Isabella, dinners at six-thirty."
"Your parents are nice." Harry said to start a conversation. He could see now that Isabella's eyes were a wonderful shade of blue-green; they reminded him of the ocean.
"They aren't my parents. They're my foster parents. My real parents died when I was a baby. This is like the eighth time I've moved with a new family this year!" Isabella seemed ready to cry, but she held back the tears. "I never liked any of them."
"Oh, I'm sorry. My parents died when I was a baby, too. I live with my aunt and uncle."
"Oh, we're a lot alike then." Isabella said, trying to sound surprised at the news Harry had just given her. But she had known it her whole life.