Harry's ears were still ringing from the shrill abuse of Aunt Petunia's shouts when she'd returned from the market to find that the polished silver was not perfectly shiny and blemish-free. She was also horrified that he'd barely made a dent in the pile. Harry really had tried his best and worked slowly and carefully. He knew what would come crashing down on his head (the frying pan) if he did a shoddy job.
She'd finally sent him up to his room in disgust. He was thankful for a little peace and quiet and a chance to stash the school supplies under the floorboard. He'd write to Hermione after he took a nap.
He felt as though he'd barely closed his eyes when Aunt Petunia was rapping on his door again. Apparently recovered from her vexation at the job he'd done with the silver, she had demanded that he weed around the Albus Agapanthus in the front yard. He started at the name Albus, then remembered that it was the name of the tall stalky flowers with round white heads.
How funny that Aunt Petunia has a lily named Albus in her yard.
He stifled a groan and rolled out of bed, feeling around for his trainers. It'd be nice to be outside again. Maybe Nio hus cherio kisa would be out there.
How on earth am I going to weed?
He paused at the front door, remembering the layout of the garden. The Agapanthus lined the walkway up to the house. They were dense, any weeds would be hidden under layers upon layers of their grass-like leaves.
He stepped onto the porch, remembering arriving here with Madam Pomfrey a few weeks before; it seemed like an eternity. He slid his foot forward to locate the front steps, there was nothing to hold onto, no wall or banister and for a moment he felt like he was venturing out into nothingness. He shook his head and reminded himself that he'd just been placing the pots of petunias on this porch. Of course, that was with the guidance of Nio hus cherio kisa.
Maybe his little friend was near. He called out in parseltongue softly and waited. He heard a rustling nearby and sat down on the step.
"Is that you, Little Friend?"
"Yes, Big Friend. It is I."
Harry felt a warmth swell in his chest.
"My Aunt wants me to weed around the Agapanthus, could you help me?"
"What is weed?" asked the snake.
This made Harry chuckle. What would a snake know of weeding? He explained and the snake was eager to help because he quickly realized that Harry would be unearthing insects in the process. Harry felt the round head of the Agapanthus, fingering the delicate, tiny white lilies.
My mom's name, Lily, he thought as he bent to sniff the flower, but was disappointed that it had no fragrance.
Once Nio hus cherio kisa could identify the weeds (which was pretty straightforward in this part of the garden as a weed was anything that wasn't an Agapanthus), he'd help guide Harry's hands to them and Harry would pluck them out, then Nio hus cherio kisa would gobble up the earthworms and beetles and other insects exposed by the upturned earth. Harry quickly learned that he could distinguish the weeds by touch… not just by the shape of their leaves, but also by the way they felt as they were pulled out of the ground. Each root system held onto the dirt differently.
Harry and Nio worked their way companionably down the path toward the pavement and the street as the sounds of the neighborhood buzzed around them… the occasional passing car, chirping birds (Harry hadn't really noticed before how many different sounds they made), and the chattering of squirrels. At one point a flock of geese flew directly overhead. Harry really liked listening to their honking as they approached and then flew over and the sound diminished in the distance. It was a huge flock.
Harry sat up and dusted off his hands when he heard someone coming up the pavement. Since schools weren't out for the holidays yet and many of the people worked during the day, it was usually pretty quiet on Privet Drive around this time of day. He wondered who it could be. He gently hissed to Nio to stay hidden in the Agapanthus. The engorged little serpent was more than happy to rest.
The steps grew closer and then stopped.
"Hello?" Harry turned his face toward the steps and let the question linger in his voice.
He was pretty certain that the Dursleys hadn't told any of their neighbors that Harry had returned from school early and blind. He had closed his eyes as soon as he had stepped outside against the bright sunlight, but now he was tempted to open them. It was strange to talk to someone with his eyes closed, but as soon as he opened them, he closed them again. The sun was too bright.
"Hello, Harry." It was a familiar voice, he could almost place it—an older woman. "You're home early from school."
"Um, yeah," Harry agreed, angling his head toward the voice. He really didn't want to explain to some random person why he was home early.
"Is everything okay?" The voice was soft and concerned and reminded him of cats.
"Sure, Mrs. Figg. How are your cats?"
At this Harry heard the grass rustling, Nio hus cherio kisa was retreating further into the Agapanthus.
"Oh, they are fine. Thank you, sweetie, for asking," she purred. "But you're looking pretty banged up and you're so thin."
"Oh, well. I've been sick, but I'm getting better." Harry smiled hoping to reassure her.
"Is that why you're home from Ho… um, school, early? But then why are you doing yard work? Shouldn't you be resting? And you've got a bruise all down one side of your face," she said stepping closer and not sounding convinced.
Harry gulped. The Dursleys would go ballistic if someone started nosing around and questioning Harry's well-being.
"Oh, well, I ran into a door," he said. That bruise seemed so long ago that he hardly remembered it. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"Oh, hello, Mrs. Figg!" Petunia called from the front door as she hustled toward them. "I've been meaning to call you. I was wondering if I could ask you to watch Harry tomorrow while Vernon and I go up to Smeltings to pick up Dudley."
Harry managed to capture the groan before it escaped his lips. Just what he needed, to be stuck in a cat-infested house that he didn't know well enough to get around and lose his time to read his leaflets and letters. He stood up.
"Aunt Petunia," he said, turning toward her. "I'm fine on my own, really. I'm nearly 13. Mrs. Figg probably has better things to do than… "
"Oh, it'll be fine, Harry," assured Mrs. Figg, her hand touching him on his shoulder, surprising him. "I can show you my newest album of cat photos!"
"Oh, but Mrs. Figg… " Harry started to explain, but Aunt Petunia cut him off sharply,
"Oh, that's right, Harry. I forgot. You can't go over to Mrs. Figg's, I need you to… iron the napkins." Petunia sounded flustered as she pulled on Harry's arm, dragging him back toward the house, he stumbled over the pile of weeds he'd gathered.
"Thanks anyway, Mrs. Figg," Petunia called over her shoulder as she shoved him through the front door.
"Why'd you do that?" Harry demanded as he righted himself, unable to hide his aggravation. He really hated being pulled around.
"Do what?" Aunt Petunia sounded like she was distracted, the rustling of curtains revealed that she was peering out the window by the front door to see if Mrs. Figg was moving along.
"Ask her to watch me and then change your mind?"
"She was looking at the bruise on your face strangely," Aunt Petunia confessed.
"I had already told her I ran into a door."
"Why'd you do that?"
"She asked."
"Nosy old bag!"
Like you're one to talk, Harry thought to himself.
But he was feeling relieved that it was looking more and more like he'd be able to stay at home alone tomorrow afternoon after all.
"Did you finish weeding the Agapanthus?"
"Nearly, I think," Harry started to move toward the door. He wanted to go back out and talk to Nio a bit more.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Go finish it." And she gave him a shove on his back so that he had to put out his hand to avoid hitting his forehead on the door.
He stepped off the front porch calling softly to Nio hus cherio kisa and was greeted by the little snake who was closer than he thought he'd be.
"I'm really confused, Little Friend. My Aunt is acting really strangely," he sighed. Harry followed the directions from the snake to the spot where they had been weeding.
Between directions to step around the pile of weeds, Nio said, "Your Aunt seemed scared."
"Why would she be scared?" Harry wondered as he tugged a weed out of the wet earth.
Nio didn't answer, he was gulping down a fat earthworm.
Harry decided to chalk it up to Aunt Petunia deep-seeded attentiveness to what her neighbors thought, but it didn't seem quite right. There was something more.
Harry gathered up the weeds and Nio slipped up his hand, curling around his wrist so that he could guide Harry to the bin to throw out the weeds. His cool body felt silky and comfortable on Harry's wrist and he was sad to return him to the grass when they were all done.
He was saying goodbye when Uncle Vernon's car pulled into the driveway with a sickening squeal.
He stood up, trying to get the dirt off his hands and jeans. He really wanted to get inside and to his room, but he wasn't quick enough.
"What in the world are you doing, boy?" Uncle Vernon erupted. It sounded to Harry as if Uncle Vernon was wedged behind the wheel of a car and struggling to extract himself. He turned his face away hoping to hide his amusement and replied, "Nothing," in the flattest voice he could muster.
"Why are you hanging out here like the deadbeat you are?" he demanded as he stomped up the front walk.
"I was just finishing up the weeding, Uncle Vernon."
"Harumph. Likely story!" Uncle Vernon pushed past Harry, knocking him in the back of the knee with his briefcase.
Harry managed not to be toppled, but just barely. He tried to hang back and let Uncle Vernon go inside without him, but his Uncle came back and grabbed his arm painfully and for a second time he was dragged, tripping into the house. He was pretty sure he was going to have layers of bruises on his arms if he didn't already.
And things were just going to get worse once Dudley was home.