Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living-room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats – but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that two other children lived in the house, too.
Yet Persephone and Harry Potter were still there, Harry asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake - and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.
'Up! Get up! Now!' Harry woke with a start. Her aunt rapped on the door again. 'Up!' she screeched. Harry heard her walking towards the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the cooker. She rolled on to his back and tried to remember the dream she had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it. She had a funny feeling she'd had the same dream before.
Her aunt was back outside the door. 'Are you up yet?' she demanded. 'Nearly,' said Persephone for them. 'Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday.'
Harry groaned. 'What did you say?' their aunt snapped through the door.
'Nothing, nothing ...' Dudley's birthday – how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. Persephone found a pair under the bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, handed them to Harry to put on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where they slept.
When they were dressed they went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favourite punch-bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast, and Persephone was far too terrifying to Dudley.
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for her age, which Persephone had always managed to make attention catching. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright-green eyes. Persephone had a pointed face, thin legs, auburn hair so dark it looked black, and brown eyes like chocolate. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as she could remember and the first question he could ever remember asking her Aunt Petunia was how he had got it.
'In the car crash when your parents died,' she had said. 'And don't ask questions.'
Don't ask questions – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. Persephone was ignored because she looked presentable.
'Comb your hair!' he barked, by way of a morning greeting.
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
'Thirty-six,' he said, looking up at his mother and father. 'That's two less than last year.'
'Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.'
'All right, thirty-seven then,' said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. Persephone tucked rolls into her pockets.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too, because she said quickly, 'And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?'
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, 'So I'll have thirty ... thirty ..."
'Thirty-nine, sweetums,' said Aunt Petunia.
'Oh.' Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
Uncle Vernon chuckled.
'Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley!' He ruffled Dudley's hair.
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Persephone and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new computer games, and a video recorder. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone, looking both angry and worried.
'Bad news, Vernon,' she said. 'Mrs Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them.' She jerked her head in the Harry and Persephone's direction.
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger bars, or the cinema. Every year, Harry and Persephone was left behind with Mrs Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there, although Persephone was far too polite and shy and sweet of a girl for Harry to ever know what she really thought of the woman. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.
'Now what?' said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though she'd planned this. Harry knew she ought to feel sorry that Mrs Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbies, Snowy, Mr Paws, and Tufty again.
'We could phone Marge,' Uncle Vernon suggested. 'Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them." The Dursleys often spoke about them like this, as though they weren't there – or rather, as though they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like slugs.
'What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?' 'On holiday in Majorca,' snapped Aunt Petunia. 'You could just leave me here,' Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).
Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. 'And come back and find the house in ruins?' she snarled. 'We wouldn't blow up the house,' said Harry, but they weren't listening. 'I suppose we could take them to the zoo,' said Aunt Petunia slowly, '... and leave them in the car ...' 'That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone ...' Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying, it had been years since he'd really cried, but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.
'Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!' she cried, flinging her arms around him.
'I ... don't ... want ... them ... t-t-to come!' Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. 'They always sp-spoil everything!' He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms. He was too scared to try anything Persephone might see, though.
Just then, the doorbell rang – 'Oh, Good Lord, they're here!' said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.
Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley and Persephone, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. Their aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken them aside.
'I'm warning you,' he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, where Persephone had leaned in. 'I'm warning you now, you two - any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.'
'We're not going to do anything,' said Harry, 'honestly ...' But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry (and Persephone, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley were silently terrified of Persephone) and it was just no good telling the Dursleys she didn't make them happen.
Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the salon looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he only had bangs, which were left 'to hide that horrible scar'. Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and Sellotaped glasses. Next morning, however, he had got up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had snipped it off. He had been given a week in the cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old jumper of Dudley's (brown with orange bobbles). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a glove puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished. Probably because of Persephone's silent watching.
On the other hand, he'd got into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he had shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of her cupboard) was jump behind the big bins outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.
But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, the cupboard, or Mrs Figg's cabbage-smelling living-room.
While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry and Persephone, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favourite subjects. This morning, it was motorbikes.
'... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,' he said, as a motorbike overtook them.
'I had a dream about a motorbike,' said Harry, remembering suddenly. 'It was flying.' She wished she had told Persephone. Persephone would've loved to had heard it. She listened to anything and everything Harry had to say.
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beetroot with a moustache, 'MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY!'
Dudley and Piers sniggered. 'I know they don't,' said Harry. 'It was only a dream.' But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than her asking questions, it was her talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas. He leaned into Persephone who made a noise so soft only he resting on her could hear it.
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice-creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Persephone what they wanted before they could hurry them away, they bought them a cheap double lemon ice lolly. It wasn't bad either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head and looking remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.
Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He thought Persephone might've also. They was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunch-time, wouldn't fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory wasn't big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry and Persephone were allowed to finish the first, Persephone just left him to it.
Harry felt, afterwards, that he should have known it was all too good to last.
After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in here, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a dustbin – but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.
'Make it move,' he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass despite the sign, but the snake didn't budge.
'Do it again,' Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.
'This is boring,' Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up – at least he got to visit the rest of the house.
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's. Persephone watched a step behind him.
It winked.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. Only Persephone. She looked back at the snake and winked, too.
The snake jerked its head towards Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: 'I get that all the time.'
'I know,' Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. 'It must be really annoying.'
The snake nodded vigorously. 'Where do you come from, anyway?' Harry asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
'Was it nice there?'
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. 'Oh, I see – so you've never been to Brazil?'
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. 'DUDLEY! MR DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!'
Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could.
'Out of the way, you,' he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. Persephone knelt beside him. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out on to the floor – people throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, 'Brazil, here I come ... Thanksss, amigo.' Persephone squeezed him.
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. 'But the glass,' he kept saying, 'where did the glass go?' The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologised over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, 'Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?' Persephone had gripped his arms, squeezing tighter than she ever had before.
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, 'Go – cupboard – stay – no meals,' before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy. Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch or Persephone, who was doing chores and by the sounds of it, spooking their aunt and uncle. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. Persephone did have a small stash of food in a shoe box kept away from the mice that Harry could get some out of, of course. And she'd likely bring him some.
They had lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and their parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when their parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in her cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember their parents at all. Their aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. Persephone remembered them somewhat, and the crash haunted her some days; it was why she spoke so rarely. She had obvious PTSD and notes relieving her from any class should she feel sick; remembering it made her violently ill and left her bedridden for days with migraines, and she hated remembering their parents because it was all twisted and knitted together since she had been only two at the time, but had an eidetic memory and extreme trauma.
When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take them away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were their only family. Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know them. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her - and likely Persephone - once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking them furiously if they knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at them once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken their hands in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look, Persephone only smiled a bit.
At school, they had only each other. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang. No one else had picked on him - not even Dudley's gang - when Persephone was there. He could only hope.