Lightning-Dono: Short chapters equal quick updates. xD
Answers to the Reviews:
ERmonkey, Burner of Cookies - Well, everyone likes story time. xD And from what I see of Ron, he's always quite eager to hear new things about Harry, so I supposed it would only be right for him to ask.
Mooncheese - I haven't had any experience with current 2-year olds. I don't remember what my brother was like 4 years ago, so...Yes, it'll be like he's a tad bit slow. Besides, if he learned how to talk from his aunt and uncle, he'd probably say 'Shut up' all the time.
Tekvah Ariel - Actually, Ron is one of my favorite characters. oO; But I don't make that obvious for some reason. Once again, I don't remember what it was like being 2-years old. And I don't feel like asking my parents. xD
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It was a year later, but respect didn't come. Harry was isolated most of the time while the Dursleys went to do errands and other such business that they found was required for life. The bright side to this was that he had learned how to talk a bit, and such. But now they ignored him even more and their tempers rose with every word that he managed to get out of his mouth.
"No more!" His Uncle Vernon said angrily one day, slamming his fist down on the table and causing his paperwork to float down onto the ground. Harry crawled away from the table, feeling intimidated. "Stop babbling to me! I don't like it!" He stammered, his face glowing a beet red.
"Sorry," Harry managed to say. His uncle glared at the young boy's backside as he crawled away. Dudley blocked Harry's path with his huge, bulky body.
"Haha," Dudley laughed. Harry, though a year older, still felt pressured by the fact that Dudley was much larger than him. And with that said, it also means that Dudley bullied Harry often, despite his age.
"No!" Harry squeaked, attempting to get up on his skinny legs, wobbling from side to side. Dudley tried to stand up, but the stubby figures that he had for legs wouldn't allow him to. Standing up, Harry felt greater than Dudley, until Dudley worked himself into a fit of false crying that somehow could trick his parents to thinking that it was real.
"He's being mean to me!" The boy sobbed dryly into the arms of his caring mother. Mrs. Dursley cast Harry a menacing look as she hurried her son to safety. 'Safety' meaning somewhere that Harry wouldn't find him, and if Harry did, Dudley would have a wooden bat ready to smash him with.
The days passed by in a very monotonous length of time. Dudley slowly became spoiled (as if he weren't already) and Uncle Vernon found many more reasons to complain about Harry's existance.
"That boy is nothing but trouble!" He would say out of the blue whenever Harry was practicing walking. Slowly Dudley learned how to walk, knocking everything off the shelves, but they never even bothered to mess with Dudley. To Harry, although he was young, it seemed as though the world were against him.
"Can I have an ice cream?" Dudley pleaded one hot afternoon, looking close to tears. His father grunted a reply. "What, daddy?" He tugged at his father's sleeve insistantly.
"Yes," he replied, searching through some envelopes.
"Can I have one, too?" Harry asked hopefully, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. Uncle Vernon looked up from his work with a crazed look.
"No!" He bellowed, as though this was all a very big deal. Dudley gave Harry a supercilious grin and waddled away with Uncle Vernon, looking pleased with himself. Harry sat down on the carpeted floor with a sigh and started to pick at a particular string that was coming loose off of his hand-me-down shirt that was a size too big for him. Tugging it with great satisfaction, he made his was into the living room, managing to snap it. The sound of a string snapping seemed to make Aunt Petunia very nervous.
"Who's there?" She suddenly said tensely, as if she had just heard a gunshot.
"Me," Harry replied bravely, dropping the piece of snapped string to the ground. His aunt was sitting there in a plush chair knitting something that looked a bit like a sweater, but for a large pig.
His aunt raised her hand furiously. "Don't you EVER do that again!" She screeched at him, throwing aside the needle she had been using. Harry nodded quickly and rushed away.
A few moments later, Dudley came back with a double-scoop ice cream from the best ice cream parlor in town.
"All for little Dudders!" Uncle Vernon pronounced proudly. Harry scowled at his cousin maliciously and walked away, unbalanced for several seconds. From where he was sitting, he could see Dudley in the kitchen, dripping melted ice cream all over the recently washed floor. Aunt Petunia smiled warmly at him (Dudley) and Harry knew that if he had done that, he would've been stuck in the broom closet all day with Dudley sitting against it.
"Mommy," Dudley moaned suddenly as the first scoop disappeared from his cone. "I finish." His mother looked up at her son's bulging figure with slight disgust, she abruptly changed her expression with a pleased one. "Yes," she said absently, continuing to knit on the brown sweater.
"Petunia, dear?" Uncle Vernon called, thundering down the stairs with great speed, his eyes bulging from their sockets. No reply. He entered the living room and his wife screamed in horror. Harry hurried into the room to see what was going on. What he witnessed almost made him laugh out loud. Uncle Vernon was standing there, his face as red as a crimson rose with his hair a bleached white. "He did it!" The man accused instantly, jabbing a finger in Harry's direction with such force that Harry could feel a slight movement of air whenever he made a jab with his finger.
"No," Harry said in a small voice, backing away from his uncle slowly. Uncle Vernon didn't find this a suitable answer.
"Yes you did! Now admit it!" He shouted, his hair sticking out at a horrible angle, as though he had been trying to use hair gel to make it stand up completely. Harry, feeling intimidated, covered his face with his hands and let out an ear-piercing sob. Hearing this, Aunt Petunia rushed to the scene, pushing her husband out of the way. Uncle Vernon gave his wife a very perplexed look.
"He's only a toddler!" She gasped, and to Harry's surprise, picked him up.
"He ruined my hair!" Uncle Vernon shouted, the veins on his neck bulging considerably.
"He didn't." Dudley managed to say, his words slurred together. Uncle Vernon rounded upon his son, pointing to his hair as though he were just about to go to a beauty contest.
"THIS IS MY HAIR YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"
"I did." Dudley admitted.
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Thanks for the reviews, guys! =D
Answers to the Reviews:
ERmonkey, Burner of Cookies - Well, everyone likes story time. xD And from what I see of Ron, he's always quite eager to hear new things about Harry, so I supposed it would only be right for him to ask.
Mooncheese - I haven't had any experience with current 2-year olds. I don't remember what my brother was like 4 years ago, so...Yes, it'll be like he's a tad bit slow. Besides, if he learned how to talk from his aunt and uncle, he'd probably say 'Shut up' all the time.
Tekvah Ariel - Actually, Ron is one of my favorite characters. oO; But I don't make that obvious for some reason. Once again, I don't remember what it was like being 2-years old. And I don't feel like asking my parents. xD
-----
It was a year later, but respect didn't come. Harry was isolated most of the time while the Dursleys went to do errands and other such business that they found was required for life. The bright side to this was that he had learned how to talk a bit, and such. But now they ignored him even more and their tempers rose with every word that he managed to get out of his mouth.
"No more!" His Uncle Vernon said angrily one day, slamming his fist down on the table and causing his paperwork to float down onto the ground. Harry crawled away from the table, feeling intimidated. "Stop babbling to me! I don't like it!" He stammered, his face glowing a beet red.
"Sorry," Harry managed to say. His uncle glared at the young boy's backside as he crawled away. Dudley blocked Harry's path with his huge, bulky body.
"Haha," Dudley laughed. Harry, though a year older, still felt pressured by the fact that Dudley was much larger than him. And with that said, it also means that Dudley bullied Harry often, despite his age.
"No!" Harry squeaked, attempting to get up on his skinny legs, wobbling from side to side. Dudley tried to stand up, but the stubby figures that he had for legs wouldn't allow him to. Standing up, Harry felt greater than Dudley, until Dudley worked himself into a fit of false crying that somehow could trick his parents to thinking that it was real.
"He's being mean to me!" The boy sobbed dryly into the arms of his caring mother. Mrs. Dursley cast Harry a menacing look as she hurried her son to safety. 'Safety' meaning somewhere that Harry wouldn't find him, and if Harry did, Dudley would have a wooden bat ready to smash him with.
The days passed by in a very monotonous length of time. Dudley slowly became spoiled (as if he weren't already) and Uncle Vernon found many more reasons to complain about Harry's existance.
"That boy is nothing but trouble!" He would say out of the blue whenever Harry was practicing walking. Slowly Dudley learned how to walk, knocking everything off the shelves, but they never even bothered to mess with Dudley. To Harry, although he was young, it seemed as though the world were against him.
"Can I have an ice cream?" Dudley pleaded one hot afternoon, looking close to tears. His father grunted a reply. "What, daddy?" He tugged at his father's sleeve insistantly.
"Yes," he replied, searching through some envelopes.
"Can I have one, too?" Harry asked hopefully, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. Uncle Vernon looked up from his work with a crazed look.
"No!" He bellowed, as though this was all a very big deal. Dudley gave Harry a supercilious grin and waddled away with Uncle Vernon, looking pleased with himself. Harry sat down on the carpeted floor with a sigh and started to pick at a particular string that was coming loose off of his hand-me-down shirt that was a size too big for him. Tugging it with great satisfaction, he made his was into the living room, managing to snap it. The sound of a string snapping seemed to make Aunt Petunia very nervous.
"Who's there?" She suddenly said tensely, as if she had just heard a gunshot.
"Me," Harry replied bravely, dropping the piece of snapped string to the ground. His aunt was sitting there in a plush chair knitting something that looked a bit like a sweater, but for a large pig.
His aunt raised her hand furiously. "Don't you EVER do that again!" She screeched at him, throwing aside the needle she had been using. Harry nodded quickly and rushed away.
A few moments later, Dudley came back with a double-scoop ice cream from the best ice cream parlor in town.
"All for little Dudders!" Uncle Vernon pronounced proudly. Harry scowled at his cousin maliciously and walked away, unbalanced for several seconds. From where he was sitting, he could see Dudley in the kitchen, dripping melted ice cream all over the recently washed floor. Aunt Petunia smiled warmly at him (Dudley) and Harry knew that if he had done that, he would've been stuck in the broom closet all day with Dudley sitting against it.
"Mommy," Dudley moaned suddenly as the first scoop disappeared from his cone. "I finish." His mother looked up at her son's bulging figure with slight disgust, she abruptly changed her expression with a pleased one. "Yes," she said absently, continuing to knit on the brown sweater.
"Petunia, dear?" Uncle Vernon called, thundering down the stairs with great speed, his eyes bulging from their sockets. No reply. He entered the living room and his wife screamed in horror. Harry hurried into the room to see what was going on. What he witnessed almost made him laugh out loud. Uncle Vernon was standing there, his face as red as a crimson rose with his hair a bleached white. "He did it!" The man accused instantly, jabbing a finger in Harry's direction with such force that Harry could feel a slight movement of air whenever he made a jab with his finger.
"No," Harry said in a small voice, backing away from his uncle slowly. Uncle Vernon didn't find this a suitable answer.
"Yes you did! Now admit it!" He shouted, his hair sticking out at a horrible angle, as though he had been trying to use hair gel to make it stand up completely. Harry, feeling intimidated, covered his face with his hands and let out an ear-piercing sob. Hearing this, Aunt Petunia rushed to the scene, pushing her husband out of the way. Uncle Vernon gave his wife a very perplexed look.
"He's only a toddler!" She gasped, and to Harry's surprise, picked him up.
"He ruined my hair!" Uncle Vernon shouted, the veins on his neck bulging considerably.
"He didn't." Dudley managed to say, his words slurred together. Uncle Vernon rounded upon his son, pointing to his hair as though he were just about to go to a beauty contest.
"THIS IS MY HAIR YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"
"I did." Dudley admitted.
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Thanks for the reviews, guys! =D