Harry left the first-floor toilet when he decided that the telly in the kitchen had been on long enough to have sucked in Dudley and before (he hoped) the Dursleys had a need to use the loo that he was currently locked in. His shoes and socks were still wet and he needed to throw away the gunk from the drains in the bin in the garage.
Walking around barefoot felt good—he liked the feel of the carpet between his toes, the smooth (very clean) wood floors and now the cool concrete of the garage.
He had completed the Saturday chores that his Aunt had ordered him to do, but that didn't mean she wouldn't come up with more if she saw that he was unoccupied.
He wanted to return to the garden to spend more time with Nio before he had to leave.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and, well, everyone would be on the Hogwarts Express right now, heading back to London. He could almost hear the train whistle in his head and feel the swaying of the cars as it zipped along the tracks. And the smell of the candy trolly as it made its way along the corridor. The apple he'd eaten in the toilet seemed like a long time ago. He wished he had more food stockpiled in his staff.
Oi! I should have thought of that yesterday! He berated himself as his stomach rumbled in protest.
He used the staff to locate the bin and tossed out the gunk. Though he was tempted, he didn't restore the staff to its normal size because he didn't want Dudley to see him using it.
Though he's probably not sticking his head out the curtains like Aunt Petunia. He's most likely still glued to the telly.
It would have been a lot easier to use the staff as a cane to find the doorstep where he sat down and put on his damp socks and shoes. His toes squished in his shoes uncomfortably and their damp odor kept wafting up to his nose.
He went out into the garden and tried to come up with some chore that he could do to stay outside… something that wouldn't send Aunt Petunia through the roof.
Though that wouldn't be so bad either…
He walked along the fence that was bordered with roses and lavender. He steered clear of the roses, though he liked their scent; he'd had too many close encounters with their thorns to want to cozy up to them. He picked a lavender leaf and crushed it between his fingers to breath in its pungent fragrance. It helped get the lingering wet shoe smell out of his nose.
Harry knelt on the earth when he heard a rustling in the grass and walked on his hands and knees for a bit. He found a spot to lay down, nose to nose with Nio who was as happy to see him as he was to see the little snake. As the snake twinned through his fingers and wisped his tongue against Harry's nose, greeting him amicably, Harry felt as though he were seeing the snake, though with his other senses. He imagined that he was a greenish-brown color, but it occurred to him he didn't actually know.
"What color are your scales, Nio?" Harry asked.
"Oh, they are like the leaves when they are growing in the spring, and decaying in the fall so that I can hide among them easily." Nio explained.
Harry sighed as he wished he could just stay outside with Nio.
[break]
Dudley was so engrossed with his telly and eating mounds of crisps (the constant crunching that accompanied the jingles from the adverts was wearing on Harry's nerves) that Dudley hadn't seemed to notice that there was something different about Harry. And Harry wasn't about to enlighten his cousin.
His staff was brilliant at alerting him to his cousin's constant attempts to trip him or hit him and as long as he was able to keep his fingers on the staff in his pocket when he was nearing Dudley, he was able to avoid the assaults. It was exhausting and he kept chanting to himself: Saturday-Sunday, Saturday-Sunday. He had put off asking his Aunt about the trip to London until Sunday. No need to send her into a spiral of hysteria a day early if it could be avoided. Harry was good at avoiding conflict. Well, as good as someone could be who was constantly being thrown under the train of conflict.
Harry had peeled and boiled potatoes, chopped more onions, and sauteed green beans in butter while Aunt Petunia managed the roast in the oven. He was pretty sure that Uncle Vernon had only left the living room twice to empty his bladder. Aunt Petunia had sent Harry in a few times with fresh pints of lager. Harry had walked very carefully and slowly trying not to spill or attract Uncle Vernon's attention… he was fairly certain his Uncle didn't even know he was in the room, even though he had grabbed the fresh pints from Harry's hand. Harry had felt around on the end table by the sofa to find the empty glasses as quietly as he could manage.
Harry was so hungry by the time they sat down at the dinner table that he felt a little faint. Before the Basilisk, he'd been able to nibble on bits and pieces of dinner while he cooked it—a green bean here, a piece of potato there. But he didn't want to risk it now—his staff didn't tell him when people were looking at him or not, just where they were in the room.
He was still finding it challenging to scoop food from bowls onto his plate without spilling and only managed meagre helpings that he then chased around his plate with his knife and fork.
Dudley asked again about Harry's sunglasses, but no one answered him. And Harry sure wasn't going to fill him in if he was too dense to figure it out on his own.
Uncle Vernon spent a good portion of the meal ranting about disabled people taking more than their fair share of the country's resources while not contributing to society and not having to pay fare for public transport and getting parking places right up front. Harry thought that was pretty rich coming from a man who had spent the entire day in front of the telly while other people waited on him. The whole tirade seemed directed right at Harry, but still, Dudley didn't catch on. Harry made a mental note to ask at the train station if that was true.
Maybe I don't need to buy a ticket!
Harry was relieved when finally the Dursleys had retired to the living room to watch their Saturday night telly leaving Harry to finish the dishes and sweep. He was glad for the relative peace and quiet of the kitchen and even more glad when he was able to creep upstairs to his room. He listened at the door, hoping to hear Hedwig, but she hadn't returned yet.
He was sitting looking out at the light of the moon when Dudley came up the stairs to use the toilet (it sounded like he had lost a bid to use the downstairs loo with Uncle Vernon).
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" his cousin barked from the doorway.
Harry shrugged and his cousin went on to the toilet. Harry got up and closed his door, then got in his pajamas. He hadn't thought about turning on lights in rooms for nearly a month now.
It's been four weeks since the Chamber of Secrets and Tom Riddle and the Basilisk and Ginny almost dying and my eyes…
He actually preferred it when the lights were off since his eyes were so sensitive to light.
He drifted off to sleep listening to the crickets and the frogs wondering where Hedwig was and if Nio was intertwined with his family in a burrow under the ground.
[break]
Sunday morning dawned and Harry awoke as the light filled his room. He laid in bed listening… had Hedwig arrived? He didn't hear her tattletale scratching or little grunts and growls.
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday! I just need to make it through the day! Tomorrow I can leave!
He had someplace he could go that was away from the Dursleys. He just had to figure out how to get there. He really, really hoped that Hermione would come through for him.
Please, please, please, Hermione. I really need this.
He got up and dressed and put the rest of his belongings (a couple of shirts, denims, socks, and pants) in his staff. In the loo, he worked on his hair (hopeless, really) and brushed his teeth. He thought about a shower, but decided he wasn't that ripe—maybe he'd be able to take one in the evening while the Dursleys were watching telly after dinner.
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday, he chanted in his head.
Breakfast went pretty smoothly, all things considered. He and Aunt Petunia fixed another full English Breakfast for the Dursley boys who didn't seem to even notice the amount of work entailed in the feast. Harry managed to eat a bit more than he'd been able to before because he made a sandwich with his egg and toast and no one said anything. He tucked a few scraps in his pocket for Hedwig when he was cleaning the plates.
Aunt Petunia had him whacking the area rugs from the kitchen, front door, back door, and toilets outside on the clothesline. It was a dusty job, but he liked being able to take his frustration out on the rugs… there was something satisfying about just hitting something until his arms ached. Nio didn't like all the dust, so stayed away until Harry was done, but they did get to hang out for a bit until Aunt Petunia noticed that Harry wasn't working.
Next was mowing the grass. Harry wasn't sure how he was going to manage it, but he enlisted Nio who not only gave excellent directions for mowing in the neat lines that Aunt Petunia required (as far as Harry could tell), but also warned all his snake buddies to clear the area. Nio bemoaned the loss of the longer grass which was easier to hide in.
Harry was really looking forward to a shower after he hauled all the bags of cut grass to the bin, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Harry and Nio sat on the garden wall in the back by the lilies (they hadn't started blooming yet—but Harry felt the long stems that were forming buds) and enjoyed the humming of the garden.
"Tomorrow I'm leaving, Little Friend. I wish you could go with me, but I don't know if I could find bugs for you to eat and I think you'd miss this garden."
"I would miss my family and the garden, Big Friend," agreed the little snake. "But I'm also going to miss you."
"I'll be back at the end of July," reassured Harry.
"What's July?" asked the snake.
"I'll be back after the sun rises… " Harry paused to count the days, "33 times."
"That's many suns," said the snake sadly.
"Yes," agreed Harry. He had never before been sad to leave Privet Drive.