Chapter 1: Sick and Rainy
Harry sighed as he looked out the window. The clouds were a cold blue-grey that sat in a swirling pattern across the sky. They were so thick and dark that Harry was beginning to wonder if there would ever be a sun again. The backyard looked like it could be home to the squids at Hogwart's lake it had been flooded so bad. The worst storm front in fifteen years was passing through and July had been filled with showers and flooding. Harry didn't mind the rain but being cramped in the house all summer with Dudley was beginning to make Harry's History of Magick class with mundane Professor Binns seem interesting despite the fact that the ghost Professor could make goblin raids seem tiresome.
"But I don't CARE if I get wet mum! I want to go outside NOW!" Dudley slammed his foot heavily on the kitchen tile, face squinted like a fat pug, and he was red as a tomatoe. This had been his third tantrum that morning, but with all the screaming and pouting that had gone on that month, even Aunt Petunia was beginning to grow used to it. Harry watched quietly from his corner at the dining room table, careful to not make himself noticed as he waited for the meager breakfast that Aunt Petunia may or may not serve him. It depended on how much Dudley yelled at her whether she would be in a good enough mood to give him food.
"Nonsense," she calmly answered her stampeding mound of lard son. Although Dudley had lost some weight through the summer, not even twelve pounds would make a difference on Dudley who was so wide that he still didn't fit properly on a chair. Aunt Petunia was cutting up a grapefruit into small chunks to go with their slim breakfast meal.
"You'll get your socks and shoes wet and then catch cold, and we wouldn't want our little Dudley-poos getting sick now would we?" She smiled warmly at him, her horse face looking lovingly on her son as he balled his fists and threw them in the air, still stamping his foot on the ground in front of him.
"I don't CARE if I get sick!" Dudley wailed at the top of his lungs. "I'm tired of being stuck in this stupid ol' house!" Petunia wasn't smiling as wide now, but she was still trying to keep a small smirk. Evidently even she was getting tired of Dudley's griping.
"You can play your video games pookey." She cooed at him softly.
"I beat them all already!"
That's a lie, Harry thought. He had broken the majority of them when he had lost, and now was down to two games that Dudley never liked, even though he had cried and begged for them for a full week till he had got them.
"What about your computer," she suggested, as she squeezed an orange to make juice.
"It's too slow! It won't do ANYTHING!"
If Harry could remember right, Dudley had kicked his computer so hard that the sides of the tower had broken off and stayed that way until the insides were filthy enough to grow grass, and the parts became so dirty that it didn't work right.
"Television my Dudley-wumpkins?"
"It's all reruns!"
"Well why don't you call that up that nice girl on Thicket Drive? She seemed rather nice." Aunt Petunia's long horse face gave another smile at her son but Harry knew what was coming now. Dudley went quiet and stared, but his face was turning another shade of red. Carefully, Harry got up from his seat, feeling his overly large brown shirt (it had once belonged to Dudley, like all the shirts he got from the Dursleys did) drape across his body, and he tried his best to sneak out of the kitchen before...
"I HATE THAT GIRL!" Dudley screamed like a Mandrake root, only unlike the Mandrake, he wouldn't make anybody feint with his bawl. "SHE'S STUPID! ALL GIRLS ARE SO STUPID! WHY WOULD I CALL A FAT UGLY TWIT LIKE HER? YOU KNOW I HATE GIRLS! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS TRYING TO SHOVE ME INTO THEM?" Dudley roared with all his might as Harry managed to creep up the stairs.
Dudley had spent his summer eyeing a girl named Bonnie Stickle who happened to live a block away. He had tried to ask her to a date a number of times but forgot that he had spent his first years of school bullying not only Harry, but her as well. She remembered, however, and turned him down and Dudley had stormed about it ever since Harry got back from Hogwarts at the start of the summer holiday.
The fit would last for another hour, Harry knew. It always did when Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon tried to persuade Dudley to befriend a girl. Dudley was the only one out of his friends, he had overheard Vernon and Petunia talking, to not have a "little crush" as they called it. This Dudley held as a grudge against girls everywhere.
As Harry closed the door to his room, Dudley's screaming and rampaging (from the sound of it he was throwing things now) were muffled slightly. He locked the door to keep Dudley out, a change of things considering most of the time the Dursley's were locking him in instead. Hedwig cooed anxiously at him from behind her cage, biting the bars with her beak and chirping disdainfully. As Harry opened her cage door to let her exercise her wings around his room, he couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for Dudley. His own luck with girls hadn't been the best either, always loosing his opportunity to ask them out or another thing jumping in his way.
He sat down at his desk, looking at what little he could see through the blurred picture behind the rain drenched glass. The clouds were so dark that he could spy a streetlight that had been turned on across the other street. As he looked again, water spoiling most of what he could see of the outside, it almost did rather seem to be evening time. It had been so gloomy it was hard to think it was barely breakfast.
He thought about Cho Chang, the pretty Seeker for Ravenclaw who he had been admiring ever since his third year at Hogwarts. With a sigh and a gurgling growl from his empty stomach, Harry decided to walk towards his special hiding place beneath a floorboard of his room, where he kept food sent from the Weasley's among other important items.
Along with a piece of berry bread from Mrs. Weasley, Harry decided that he had might as well work on some homework while he ate. He was normally not allowed to even look at his school supplies while spending time at the Durlsey's house. Uncle Vernon allowed Harry no contact what so ever with anything he could possibly use to do magick, but since Dudley had spent so much time whining and complaining this summer, the Dursley's had been too busy with him to prevent Harry from being what he truly was; a wizard. This was the only thing Harry could be thankful for this summer, as he dipped his quill in ink and began writing about the effect that Desert Jagweed had had on sea serpent scales.
Snape, the Potions Master, had given Harry such an incredible list of experiments to do during the summer break that Harry was certainly sure he would never get it all done with the Dursley's in sight. Luckily, all the ingredients for the mixtures Snape had written for them were dry and easily kept, nothing messy nor still crawling. Hermione had provided him with all of the things he needed in little bags and Harry was fortunate enough to not have encountered a recipe that blew up... yet...
So far the most amusing results that had happened were when one plant- like material seemed to grow fur and his previous mixture, the Jagweed and serpent scales, had provided a jet of gentle steam when ground together. For the most part the mixtures ended in color changes Hedwig shifted anxiously about her perch now made on Harry's bed, and Dudley had gotten a second wind on his yelling downstairs.
Two hours later Harry's eyes were sore and strained from so much tedious writing and found that he had had enough to do with dried Stargrape mixtures. It was time to take a break. He put his quill down and rubbed his eyes, his gaze drifting to the window. It was still dark outside, but wasn't raining nearly as much. The streetlight had still been on, but it seemed like the storm would settle some for the time being.
While watching the trees across the neighborhood sway vigorously in the wind, a sudden white blur whizzed by Harry's ear and then he felt a gentle but highly annoying pelting of something lightweight and feathery. He put his hands in front of his eyes, shaking his head and feeling wafts of air brushing past his messy hair until he could finally push himself and his chair away from his desk and make out Hedwig, beating her wings furiously at the window.
"Hedwig!" He reached his hands out and attempted to grab the white owl, her talons scratching terribly at the window as she hooted fiercely at him. "Hedwig! You know I can't let you outside." Harry grabbed her a couple of times, Hedwig always struggling free until she had grown tired and rested calmly on his desk next to his window sill.
"You know if I let you out Uncle Vernon will have you in a zoo faster than Dudley can eat a cream pie." Hedwig replied by turning her longing gaze from the window and towards Harry, twisting her owl head to the right with a funny look to them. Harry shook his head at her, remembering similar memories of Hedwig's angst every year around July when he heard a strange, muffled yelling from outside.
Harry adjusted his glasses from where Hedwig had sent them amiss and peered over her ruffled white feathers into the flooded backyard below. There, standing in the middle of the giant puddle that had once been grass, was Dudley dressed in a bare windbreaker and slamming his feet as hard as he could in the muddy mess. Harry's brow furrowed.
It looked as if Aunt Petunia had finally gave in and let Dudley out, but that seemed unlikely because she would usually dress Dudley head to toe in giant bundles of clothing for cold tempurates if he ever needed to brave rainy weather. She would be sure every inch of Dudley was warm and covered. Harry was lucky if she gave Harry one extra sweater, raggedy and used, for rainy days. But at the moment, Dudley had on only a small jacket.
Hedwig chirped at Harry with a curious look in her eyes. "Now what do you suppose he's doing?" Harry asked her. Hedwig cocked her head to one side and looked back at the window, apparently down at Dudley. "Aunt Petunia can't have let him out."
Harry had been right for as soon as he had mentioned it to Hedwig did Aunt Petunia come whipping out from the house with a brisk step, yelling and sticking a finger at a disheartened Dudley.
"Now what did I tell you Dudley-pie!" Harry felt his stomach churn at the name.
"I distinctly told you NOT to go outside! You'll catch a cold!" She immediately cloaked another jacket around a perturbed and belligerent Dudley, forcing him inside. "You'll get a fever and a cough and... Oh! Just wait till I tell your father!" The backdoor below slammed and Harry could hear Petunia's scorning from down stairs.
Dudley got in trouble? Harry mused to himself. That had been a sight to see for a change in Harry's life. And sure enough, a week later, Dudley had caught fever.
Harry sighed as he looked out the window. The clouds were a cold blue-grey that sat in a swirling pattern across the sky. They were so thick and dark that Harry was beginning to wonder if there would ever be a sun again. The backyard looked like it could be home to the squids at Hogwart's lake it had been flooded so bad. The worst storm front in fifteen years was passing through and July had been filled with showers and flooding. Harry didn't mind the rain but being cramped in the house all summer with Dudley was beginning to make Harry's History of Magick class with mundane Professor Binns seem interesting despite the fact that the ghost Professor could make goblin raids seem tiresome.
"But I don't CARE if I get wet mum! I want to go outside NOW!" Dudley slammed his foot heavily on the kitchen tile, face squinted like a fat pug, and he was red as a tomatoe. This had been his third tantrum that morning, but with all the screaming and pouting that had gone on that month, even Aunt Petunia was beginning to grow used to it. Harry watched quietly from his corner at the dining room table, careful to not make himself noticed as he waited for the meager breakfast that Aunt Petunia may or may not serve him. It depended on how much Dudley yelled at her whether she would be in a good enough mood to give him food.
"Nonsense," she calmly answered her stampeding mound of lard son. Although Dudley had lost some weight through the summer, not even twelve pounds would make a difference on Dudley who was so wide that he still didn't fit properly on a chair. Aunt Petunia was cutting up a grapefruit into small chunks to go with their slim breakfast meal.
"You'll get your socks and shoes wet and then catch cold, and we wouldn't want our little Dudley-poos getting sick now would we?" She smiled warmly at him, her horse face looking lovingly on her son as he balled his fists and threw them in the air, still stamping his foot on the ground in front of him.
"I don't CARE if I get sick!" Dudley wailed at the top of his lungs. "I'm tired of being stuck in this stupid ol' house!" Petunia wasn't smiling as wide now, but she was still trying to keep a small smirk. Evidently even she was getting tired of Dudley's griping.
"You can play your video games pookey." She cooed at him softly.
"I beat them all already!"
That's a lie, Harry thought. He had broken the majority of them when he had lost, and now was down to two games that Dudley never liked, even though he had cried and begged for them for a full week till he had got them.
"What about your computer," she suggested, as she squeezed an orange to make juice.
"It's too slow! It won't do ANYTHING!"
If Harry could remember right, Dudley had kicked his computer so hard that the sides of the tower had broken off and stayed that way until the insides were filthy enough to grow grass, and the parts became so dirty that it didn't work right.
"Television my Dudley-wumpkins?"
"It's all reruns!"
"Well why don't you call that up that nice girl on Thicket Drive? She seemed rather nice." Aunt Petunia's long horse face gave another smile at her son but Harry knew what was coming now. Dudley went quiet and stared, but his face was turning another shade of red. Carefully, Harry got up from his seat, feeling his overly large brown shirt (it had once belonged to Dudley, like all the shirts he got from the Dursleys did) drape across his body, and he tried his best to sneak out of the kitchen before...
"I HATE THAT GIRL!" Dudley screamed like a Mandrake root, only unlike the Mandrake, he wouldn't make anybody feint with his bawl. "SHE'S STUPID! ALL GIRLS ARE SO STUPID! WHY WOULD I CALL A FAT UGLY TWIT LIKE HER? YOU KNOW I HATE GIRLS! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS TRYING TO SHOVE ME INTO THEM?" Dudley roared with all his might as Harry managed to creep up the stairs.
Dudley had spent his summer eyeing a girl named Bonnie Stickle who happened to live a block away. He had tried to ask her to a date a number of times but forgot that he had spent his first years of school bullying not only Harry, but her as well. She remembered, however, and turned him down and Dudley had stormed about it ever since Harry got back from Hogwarts at the start of the summer holiday.
The fit would last for another hour, Harry knew. It always did when Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon tried to persuade Dudley to befriend a girl. Dudley was the only one out of his friends, he had overheard Vernon and Petunia talking, to not have a "little crush" as they called it. This Dudley held as a grudge against girls everywhere.
As Harry closed the door to his room, Dudley's screaming and rampaging (from the sound of it he was throwing things now) were muffled slightly. He locked the door to keep Dudley out, a change of things considering most of the time the Dursley's were locking him in instead. Hedwig cooed anxiously at him from behind her cage, biting the bars with her beak and chirping disdainfully. As Harry opened her cage door to let her exercise her wings around his room, he couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for Dudley. His own luck with girls hadn't been the best either, always loosing his opportunity to ask them out or another thing jumping in his way.
He sat down at his desk, looking at what little he could see through the blurred picture behind the rain drenched glass. The clouds were so dark that he could spy a streetlight that had been turned on across the other street. As he looked again, water spoiling most of what he could see of the outside, it almost did rather seem to be evening time. It had been so gloomy it was hard to think it was barely breakfast.
He thought about Cho Chang, the pretty Seeker for Ravenclaw who he had been admiring ever since his third year at Hogwarts. With a sigh and a gurgling growl from his empty stomach, Harry decided to walk towards his special hiding place beneath a floorboard of his room, where he kept food sent from the Weasley's among other important items.
Along with a piece of berry bread from Mrs. Weasley, Harry decided that he had might as well work on some homework while he ate. He was normally not allowed to even look at his school supplies while spending time at the Durlsey's house. Uncle Vernon allowed Harry no contact what so ever with anything he could possibly use to do magick, but since Dudley had spent so much time whining and complaining this summer, the Dursley's had been too busy with him to prevent Harry from being what he truly was; a wizard. This was the only thing Harry could be thankful for this summer, as he dipped his quill in ink and began writing about the effect that Desert Jagweed had had on sea serpent scales.
Snape, the Potions Master, had given Harry such an incredible list of experiments to do during the summer break that Harry was certainly sure he would never get it all done with the Dursley's in sight. Luckily, all the ingredients for the mixtures Snape had written for them were dry and easily kept, nothing messy nor still crawling. Hermione had provided him with all of the things he needed in little bags and Harry was fortunate enough to not have encountered a recipe that blew up... yet...
So far the most amusing results that had happened were when one plant- like material seemed to grow fur and his previous mixture, the Jagweed and serpent scales, had provided a jet of gentle steam when ground together. For the most part the mixtures ended in color changes Hedwig shifted anxiously about her perch now made on Harry's bed, and Dudley had gotten a second wind on his yelling downstairs.
Two hours later Harry's eyes were sore and strained from so much tedious writing and found that he had had enough to do with dried Stargrape mixtures. It was time to take a break. He put his quill down and rubbed his eyes, his gaze drifting to the window. It was still dark outside, but wasn't raining nearly as much. The streetlight had still been on, but it seemed like the storm would settle some for the time being.
While watching the trees across the neighborhood sway vigorously in the wind, a sudden white blur whizzed by Harry's ear and then he felt a gentle but highly annoying pelting of something lightweight and feathery. He put his hands in front of his eyes, shaking his head and feeling wafts of air brushing past his messy hair until he could finally push himself and his chair away from his desk and make out Hedwig, beating her wings furiously at the window.
"Hedwig!" He reached his hands out and attempted to grab the white owl, her talons scratching terribly at the window as she hooted fiercely at him. "Hedwig! You know I can't let you outside." Harry grabbed her a couple of times, Hedwig always struggling free until she had grown tired and rested calmly on his desk next to his window sill.
"You know if I let you out Uncle Vernon will have you in a zoo faster than Dudley can eat a cream pie." Hedwig replied by turning her longing gaze from the window and towards Harry, twisting her owl head to the right with a funny look to them. Harry shook his head at her, remembering similar memories of Hedwig's angst every year around July when he heard a strange, muffled yelling from outside.
Harry adjusted his glasses from where Hedwig had sent them amiss and peered over her ruffled white feathers into the flooded backyard below. There, standing in the middle of the giant puddle that had once been grass, was Dudley dressed in a bare windbreaker and slamming his feet as hard as he could in the muddy mess. Harry's brow furrowed.
It looked as if Aunt Petunia had finally gave in and let Dudley out, but that seemed unlikely because she would usually dress Dudley head to toe in giant bundles of clothing for cold tempurates if he ever needed to brave rainy weather. She would be sure every inch of Dudley was warm and covered. Harry was lucky if she gave Harry one extra sweater, raggedy and used, for rainy days. But at the moment, Dudley had on only a small jacket.
Hedwig chirped at Harry with a curious look in her eyes. "Now what do you suppose he's doing?" Harry asked her. Hedwig cocked her head to one side and looked back at the window, apparently down at Dudley. "Aunt Petunia can't have let him out."
Harry had been right for as soon as he had mentioned it to Hedwig did Aunt Petunia come whipping out from the house with a brisk step, yelling and sticking a finger at a disheartened Dudley.
"Now what did I tell you Dudley-pie!" Harry felt his stomach churn at the name.
"I distinctly told you NOT to go outside! You'll catch a cold!" She immediately cloaked another jacket around a perturbed and belligerent Dudley, forcing him inside. "You'll get a fever and a cough and... Oh! Just wait till I tell your father!" The backdoor below slammed and Harry could hear Petunia's scorning from down stairs.
Dudley got in trouble? Harry mused to himself. That had been a sight to see for a change in Harry's life. And sure enough, a week later, Dudley had caught fever.