Chapter Three

The next day at recess, Dudley and his friends were playing soccer on the playground.

"Can I play?" asked Harry, coming up to the smallest, and least scary, of Dudley's friends.

"Sure four eyes," sneered one of the bigger ones, "why don't you be goalie?" Harry overlooked the mean remark because he was overjoyed. He had never been allowed to play with them before, much less such an important position as goalie. He ran over to the goal and stood there, waiting excitedly for the ball to come his way. The kids kept the ball mostly on the other end of the field, and soon little Harry got bored. He was thinking about other things, like why his aunt and uncle were so scared of "the M word," and whether or not he was going to get locked in the cupboard again this afternoon when suddenly he heard "Watch it scar-face!" from a few feet in front of him. He looked up just in time to for the soccer ball to hit him square in the nose, snapping his glasses.

Harry bent down and started searching for the broken glasses. His face grew redder and redder as the jeers grew louder. He felt the sting of a small cut on his nose where the frames had hit him, and it was all he could do to hold back tears, but he was determined not to cry in front of these bullies. He hoped they would go away, but they just stood there, laughing. Forgetting his embarrassment Little Harry began to get angry at them for being so mean.

"Ow!" someone yelled. Looking over, Harry saw an ant pile right under Dudley's foot. "What's going on? That wasn't there earlier!" Dudley cried as he hopped up and down. Harry giggled at the sudden turn of events, and soon more ant piles began sprouting up near all of the kids who had just been laughing.

On the way home from school later, Dudley whined to his mom that "Harry was mad because we're better at soccer than him and he made ants bite all of us!"

"How did you do that?" Aunt Petunia asked Harry sharply, angrily.

"I didn't!" Harry replied defensively. "They just started popping up!"

"On their own?" questioned Aunt Petunia.

"Y-yes," whined Harry, knowing better than to say it was like magic. He couldn't figure out why all this weird stuff happened around him.

"Well, we'll see what your uncle has to say about this," sighed Petunia.

That evening at dinner, Dudley piped up and said, "Daddy! Harry made weird stuff happen again today!"

"What did you do this time boy?" growled Vernon, immediately turning purple.

"I-i-i didn't do anything!" Harry cried.

"He did Daddy! Make him go to time out!" Dudley whined.

"Don't lie to me boy. Without us you'd be in the orphan house. Remember that when you're speaking to me," Vernon admonished Harry.

"I'm not lying! Dudley and his friends were being mean and all of a sudden ant piles started piling up all over the place! Why don't you believe me?" he shouted.

"We do not shout in this house Harry," Vernon said, though he was shouting himself. Harry was frustrated now.

"It's not fair!" he yelled even louder this time, and the silverware drawer banged open and shut, causing everybody to jump.

"That's it!" Vernon roared. "Go back to your cupboard. No dessert for you tonight."

"I never get dessert," whined little Harry, stalking off.

As he left, he could hear his pig cousin saying, "Mommy, can I have Harry's dessert?" and his Aunt allowing it whole heartedly.