Chapter Two - Dudley's Terrible Birthday

One day, in the summer of 1991, the Dursleys found themselves with a problem, it was Dudley's birthday and so far, everything that could go wrong had. Firstly, they had miscounted Dudley's presents, leaving the boy with a meager thirty-seven presents, upsetting the freshly eleven year old as he had received the thirty-eight the previous year. His distraught mother frantically placated him, promising to get him more presents.

As his cousin was attempting to figure out how many presents that would leave him with, Harry was hastily lifting the pan of bacon from the stove before it burnt. He nearly dropped the pan onto his uncle's lap when the shrill burst of the phone ringing interrupted the quiet morning.

"Boy!" His uncle barked, "Go answer that this instant! And don't you dare let it get to a third ring!" The Dursleys would never be so rude as to allow a call to go unanswered for too long, so Harry quickly deposited the pan of bacon onto the waiting potholder and dashed into the hallway to answer the phone.

He snatched it off the wall just as it was finishing its second trill, "Dursley residence." He answered politely. He paused listening to the voice at the other end, "Oh yes, good morning Mrs. Figg." He paused again as the old woman began rattling off something about her cats, "Oh no, that's terrible Mrs. Figg, are you alright?" He listened as she explained her reason for calling. "Yes, of course, I'll tell them right away." She bid him good day, "You too, Mrs. Figg, get well soon, Mrs. Figg." After waiting to hear the click signifying that Mrs. Figg had hung up the phone, he put the handset back on the wall and returned to the kitchen.

"Who was it?" Uncle Vernon grunted, his beady eyes never lifting from his newspaper as he reached for another piece of bacon.

"It was Mrs. Figg." Harry responded nervously, he knew his aunt and uncle would not be pleased with the news.

"Well, what did she want? Why didn't she ask to talk to one of us?" Aunt Petunia looked at him shrewdly, as if he had done something wrong and Mrs. Figg had been calling to tattle on him. His uncle slowly lowered his newspaper enough to glare at his nephew over it. Even Dudley seemed to become aware of the tension in the room as he excitedly lifted his face from his plate, always eager to see his cousin get in trouble.

Harry gulped and hesitated before answering, at which point Uncle Vernon lost what little patience he had. He tossed down his newspaper, not noticing in his anger that it landed right in Dudley's syrup covered plate who incidentally also did not notice as he was absorbed in watching his cousin about to be reamed by his father. Vernon rose from the table, his entire enormous mass quivering with rage, "YOUR AUNT ASKED YOU A QUESTION!" He roared, his face slowly becoming a strangely mottled purple and white combination.

Harry responded quickly, not wanting to anger his uncle further, "Mrs. Figg was calling to say that due to an unfortunate incident with one of her cats, she is currently in the hospital with a broken hip and therefore will be unable to watch me today while you take Dudley and his friend to the zoo." There was absolute silence in the kitchen; Uncle Vernon was now completely purple, Aunt Petunia had a horrified expression on her face as if Harry had said something far less civil and Dudley looked a bit like a paused TV. He was completely frozen with a blank expression on his face as if he hadn't understood what Harry had said at all, though with Dudley, it was entirely possible that he hadn't.

Slowly, the fact that his cousin would be coming along on his birthday outing dawned on Dudley's wide face, "MUM," He cried, "I DON'T WANT HIM TO COME!" Dudley screwed his face up and wailed, "YOU CAN'T LET THAT FREAK RUIN MY BIRTHDAY! IT'S NOT FAIR!" Dudley suddenly lurched from his seat and climbed on top of it, jumping up and down, shaking the entire house.

Petunia tried to calm him down, "Of course he won't come Duddyboo, your father and I would never let that thing ruin our precious boys big day." Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at his aunt's simpering voice. Unfortunately for him, Uncle Vernon was still staring at him.

"DON'T YOU ROLL YOUR EYES BOY! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! WHAT DID YOU DO?" Vernon was squinting at Harry with his tiny eyes as if it had been Harry that tripped Mrs. Figg and not one of her cats.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry protested, careful to keep his anger in check, not wanting to draw any additional ire for being disrespectful.

Meanwhile, Dudley was still blubbering about how Harry had ruined his entire life when suddenly the chair he had been jumping on shattered into a billion pieces. Dudley squealed, a rather piglike sound, as he fell forward onto the dining table which collapsed under his weight. For a moment, there was once again silence as everyone stared at the boy who now lay on the kitchen floor wearing a menagerie of different breakfast foods as well as a shocked expression. Dudley sat up with some effort and began wailing anew.

"M-MUMMY, IT HURTS!" He sobbed as he tried in vain to stand up. "MUMMY I THINK I B-BROKE SOMETHING!"

Besides the table? Harry thought angrily before feeling guilty as he watched his cousin clutch at his leg in pain. His aunt knelt beside her son and the ruined table, quietly asking him where it hurt and how bad it felt on a scale of one to ten.

Suddenly, Harry was lifted off his feet as Uncle Vernon grabbed him around the waist and carried him into the hallway. He stuffed Harry into the cupboard under the stairs, locking it from the outside before lumbering back into the kitchen where Dudley's sobs had begun to subside and he could be heard answering his mother's questions in a meek voice.

Harry watched from his cupboard as the Dursleys bustled around the house, gathering ice for Dudley's leg as well as some bandages to wrap around it. Vernon slowly made his way out to the car, supporting most of Dudley's great weight as Aunt Petunia stomped into the hallway and picked up the phone. She angrily punched the buttons and stood tapping her foot rapidly as she waited for the person at the other end to pick up.

"Hi, Mrs. Polkiss," She said sweetly into the phone, her tone not at all matching her thunderous expression, "I was just calling to tell you that unfortunately our little outing is going to have to take a rain check." She listened to the other woman for a moment, rolling her eyes, something she would never dare to do in a face to face conversation. "Yes, I understand that Piers will be disappointed, but Dudders took a little tumble today and Vernon and I are taking him to the hospital." She waited, again rolling her eyes as she looked at her watch. "No, no, I'm sure he'll be just fine, probably just a sprain, but you know what they say, better safe than sorry!" She chuckled hollowly as she said the last bit. "Well, it was lovely talking to you Priscilla, but I really must be going. Goodbye now," She waited a second before slamming the phone back into the receiver with a metallic clang.

She stomped over to the door of Harry's cupboard, crouching to glare into his eyes through the slits in the door. "You," She snarled, her voice no longer simperingly sweet, "You horrid little freak! If you hurt my son ever again I swear to God you will never again darken our doorstep! I'll send your ungrateful little arse right to an orphanage," Harry was shocked, he had never heard his aunt swear before, nor had he ever seen her so angry. "Do you understand me!?" She spat.

He nodded glumly, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He looked down, unable to meet her fury head on. She stood and adjusted her skirt before stomping down the hallway, slamming the front door behind her. Harry sighed as the house shook with the force of his aunt's anger, grimacing when a spider fell from the underside of the stairs and landed on his cheek.

Harry sat in that horrible little cupboard for what felt like forever, until finally he could no longer stand the pain in his growling stomach. He looked at the lock on his cupboard and bit his lip, concentrating. Slowly, the lock clicked and the cupboard door swung open. Harry clambered out and nervously glanced over his shoulder, as if his relatives could come bursting through it at any second. He made his way to the kitchen and couldn't help but stare at the wreckage of the dining table.

He knew it wasn't really his fault, but Harry still felt guilty that Dudley had been hurt. He quickly turned away from the destroyed table and chair and began hurriedly rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat. He rapidly made himself a sandwich and, as an afterthought, grabbed a bag of crisps to eat with it. He reluctantly returned to his cupboard, locking himself back in. He didn't want to eat in the cupboard, it was very dusty in there, but he also didn't want to have to explain how he was wandering the house after his uncle had locked him in.

Harry sat and quietly munched on his crisps as he waited for his relatives to return home and the house had begun to glow as the light of the setting sun shifted through the windows when they finally arrived home. The Dursleys bustled into their home, completely ignoring the existence of the young boy trapped in the cupboard under the stairs. Uncle Vernon absentmindedly slid the shutters slots closed on the cupboard door as he walked by, leaving Harry in the dark. Harry knew that he would likely be staying in his cupboard for a long while.

Shortly after the Dursleys arrived home, there was a knock at the door and the house was filled with noise as what sounded like two men came into the house talking about a delivery. From what Harry could hear from within the cupboard, they were bringing a new table that the Dursleys had stopped to purchase on the way home from the hospital. He listened as the men politely asked what had happened to the original table, but were rather rudely rebuked by Petunia, who stated that it was none of their business. They carted away the remains of the old table promising to dispose of it at no charge to the Dursleys, which Vernon briskly thanked them for.

While the men were outside getting the new table, Vernon could be heard muttering about the unprofessionalism of workers today. Petunia snapped at him tiredly to hush and wait to complain until later. Harry was surprised at his aunt's unusual behavior, she almost never told her husband to do anything.

The workers returned and brought the new table in and set it up in the kitchen. Once they had left Petunia gushed over how it was exactly the same as the original.

"Oh Vernon," She gushed, "It's just the same, just like the one we got when we first married, remember? It was a wedding present from my dad!" She cried happily.

"Of course, nothing but the best for my Toonya," Harry nearly gagged as he listened to his uncle use the pet-name for his aunt. Vernon yawned, "It's late, we should head to bed." Petunia responded to quietly for Harry to hear, and then Vernon lumbered past the cupboard and up the stairs to bed.

Harry sat in his cupboard, wondering what his aunt was doing and hoping she would be going to bed soon so he could sneak into the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

Suddenly, the lock slammed back and the cupboard door flew open. A hand reached in and yanked Harry out, confused and in a state of panic Harry was reminded of his nightmares and the pale, cold hands grabbing him. Before he had even realized it, Harry had activated his power, using it to push the person grabbing him away from him.

Harry gulped as he looked up to see his aunt sprawled on the floor in front of him, "Aunt Petunia I-" He was cut off when his aunt climbed to her feet and lunged towards him. She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him through the kitchen out into the backyard.

She loomed over him, "You miserable little freak," She hissed, "Why did my wretched sister have to dump you with me!? She couldn't just leave me out of it like she always did? NO, of course not, because my freak sister did everything she could to ruin my life!" His aunt was practically shouting by the time she finished. She began pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. Harry could've sworn she was talking about witches and wizards of all things.

"A-Aunt Petunia?" He stuttered, he was worried that his aunt had lost her mind.

"What?" She snapped, whirling to face him, "What could you possibly want now? Hm? What is it with you freaks and not being able to leave me the hell alone!" With that, Petunia fell to her knees and started sobbing. "I never wanted this!" She looked up to the sky, as if she were talking to some unseen heavenly being. "That's not my life anymore! I didn't want anything to do with those people! I didn't want to talk to my sister ever again! I certainly didn't ask to have to raise her freak of a son while she was off doing who knows what!?"

Unable to control himself, Harry burst out, "Aunt Petunia, what are you talking about?"

"YOU!" She shrieked. "I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU, HARRY!" Harry rocked back, the Dursleys never called him by his given name, it was always Boy or Freak. Petunia raked her hands through her perfect hair, leaving it resembling Harry's. "I'm talking about you and your abnormalness! Do you know how ashamed I have felt for the past decade? Having one of your kind living under my roof? Do you have any idea how hard it's been keeping your secret? Not even being able to tell my husband?!" Aunt Petunia had a crazed look in her eye as she stared incredulously at Harry. Then she laughed wildly, throwing her head back, "Of course, you don't even know what I'm talking about!" She barked out another laugh, "You don't even know! You don't know the truth and you never will!" She stopped laughing now and sneered at him. "You'll never know and you're better off for it, you should thank me for not telling you, maybe I'll be able to save you from turning out like my sister."

With that, Petunia stormed back into the house, leaving the door open in her haste to get away from her nephew. Harry lay in the backyard for ages, staring up at the stars, pondering the peculiar things Petunia had said.

Harry had been lost in his thoughts for hours when the church bells clanged in the distance, signaling that it was midnight. He felt his mouth lift up into a small smile, At least it's not Dudder's birthday anymore, he thought to himself as he picked himself off of the ground. He quietly made his way back into the house, shutting the door behind him.

Harry couldn't help but sigh as he climbed into his cupboard for the night. He was exhausted, yet he didn't want to go to sleep for fear of the nightmares he knew were sure to come. He took off his glasses, placing them on the shelf above his bed before rolling onto his stomach, he tucked his arm under his head and slowly drifting off to sleep.

Harry watched through the familiar strange bars as a cloaked figure entered the room. The figure raised a slender white hand clutching a stick towards the woman that stood between him and Harry. He said something in a high, cold voice that Harry could not make out. The sound was all wrong, it was muffled as if he hearing it from the bottom of a swimming pool. The sweet, tinkling voice of the red haired woman drifted towards Harry as she responded to the figure.

Suddenly, the sound sharpened and became clear. The figure laughed cruelly at the woman before raising the stick high above his head, bringing it down in a quick zigzag slash as he screamed something in a strange language at the woman. There was a burst of green light and the woman fell, her body arching unnaturally and as her fiery hair tumbled around her face, Harry glimpsed her eyes, eyes the same brilliant green as the light surrounding her, eyes the same as his own.

Harry watched helplessly as the woman hit the ground, completely still. The figure glided forward, not seeming to move at all, yet becoming large, becoming closer. He reached through the bars with his pale, cold hands and picked Harry up, holding him at arm's length as if he were some diseased animal that he didn't want to touch. The hands quickly released him and the hooded figure once again brandished his stick, performing the same strange zigzag and saying the same strange words.

There was another burst of harsh, green light and then nothing.

* from chapter two "The Vanishing Glass" in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer/Philosopher's Stone by JK Rowling