In the Cupboard
In the Cupboard
By: HarryDude85
When Harry trusted his instincts and opened his first Hogwarts letter away from prying eyes, the difference this one simple act has on the future is astounding.
I don't own any of these characters.
Walking into the family room, Harry found his family the same way he finds them almost every night: Dudley planted on his large stomach watching some show that involved many explosions and punches to the face with the volume turned up to some insane degree and shoving handfuls, or what Harry says, shovelfuls of popcorn and cheetos in his mouth, loudly announcing when he was finished with a tremendous belch, before Aunt Petunia supplies him with more; Uncle Vernon reading the newspaper with the distinct look on his face that said he was attempting to do the impossible by blocking out the TV, knowing that politely asking Dudley to turn it down a teeny bit would result in World War III and IV all in one; and Aunt Petunia reading some celebrity magazine that she scoffed at whenever a neighbor mentioned it, claiming that only lonely nobody's paid any attention to what those rags had to say, despite having a subscription to said magazine for two years, her pale, beady eyes absorbing every thing the page had to offer, occasionally giving a loud "Tut-tut" of disapproval whenever the magazine showed a beautiful celebrity in a bikini, yet her eyes showing that she wanted nothing more than to look like said celebrity.
And, as usual, nobody made any indication of Harry entering the room. 'Well,' Harry gleefully thought, 'I'm sure I know a way to get their attention'.
Clearing his throat, Harry said, "Uncle Vernon."
Uncle Vernon grunted, not looking up. Harry had grown to learn that that meant 'yes' in Dursley speak.
"You remember this morning when you made me get the mail?"
Another grunt. Still looking at the paper.
"Well," Harry said carefully, for he knew what would happen next, "I didn't give you all of it. I kept one for myself"
The effect was instantaneous. His attention firmly gotten, Uncle Vernon dropped his paper when he leapt to his feet. Aunt Petunia put the magazine down to get up as well, and although she didn't look as furious as Uncle Vernon did, it was a close thing. And Dudley finally turned off the TV to turn and watch, still shoveling food down his throat, ready to watch his favorite kind of entertainment.
"HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM US!" Uncle Vernon roared, his face an instant red, fists clenched so hard at his side, Harry was truly surprised to not see blood dripping down. "HOW DARE YOU TAKE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO YOUR AUNT AND I! WE GIVE YOU DUDLEY'S CLOTHES, WE GIVE YOU FOOD, WE GIVE YOU SHELTER, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US! BY STEALING MAIL FROM US!?" His breathing was ragged, his bushy mustache blowing around from the great gusts of air he was sucking in and blowing out.
"It wasn't for you or for her," shot back Harry.
"So your stealing from Dudley, is that it?" Aunt Petunia screeched, that thought of anyone befouling Dudley putting her up in arms.
"That's it isn't it," Uncle Vernon growled, his voice softer but still as dangerous. "It's not enough that you have to have his clothes to wear and to have his fine example to live by, but you have to have more of what is rightfully Dudley's." Uncle Vernon sounded very proud for having reasoned out the obvious right answer, that Harry almost felt bad for having to burst his bubble. Almost.
"It wasn't for Dudley, or you, or her," Harry said exasperated.
"Don't say her like that, you ungrateful brat. To you, she's Aunt Petunia and – "
"Wait," Aunt Petunia cut off, putting the pieces of what Harry just said together. A look of dawning realization followed quickly by fascinated horror took over her face. She asked her next question with great trepidation. "If it wasn't for any of us," she said slowly, " was it for you?"
All eyes were on Harry. He nodded.
It looked as if Aunt Petunia's worst nightmare had come true, the way her eyes gleamed, and it made her sit down on the couch in the way that in a war, may have signaled defeat, but Uncle Vernon paid no attention to her. All he cared about was the boy he was forced by marriage to call nephew and getting answers.
"You? Who would be writing to you?" Uncle Vernon sneered. Harry rolled his eyes thinking that was exactly how he imagined his uncle's reaction this morning and how horrible that made him feel when he realized how well he knew his uncle.
"I have the letter here if you want to read it," Harry offered, pulling it out from his pocket. It was snatched from his hand instantly, and with a glare of pure hatred, Uncle Vernon lowered his gaze to read.
It always amazed Harry, considering how slow the Dursleys were at everything else, how fast their emotions were. Earlier, Uncle Vernon went from calm and quiet to furious and earsplitting loud faster than a heartbeat. Now, he went from furious to downright terrified. His face went from red to green faster than a stoplight, than quickly to deathly pale.
"P-Pe-Petunia," Uncle Vernon squeaked, which is something Harry didn't think he could do. He handed the letter to his wife, making sure to avoid his son, who had finally gotten up to see what this was all about.
It looked as if Petunia's fears were confirmed. She barely even glanced at it before she dropped it in her lap.
"So you know." It wasn't a question.
"Know about me and my parents and what they were and what I am? Yeah, I know," Harry said.
"Know what?" Dudley asked.
"Well, fat lot of good it does, you knowing," Uncle Vernon snapped. "I will not pay for you to go off and learn to become a freak."
"Go off where?" Dudley asked again, starting to get annoyed that no one was paying attention to him, something he wasn't used to.
"You don't have to pay," Harry responded. "My parents left me money when they died so I can pay for myself. And I will be going."
"Pay for what," Dudley asked in a raised voice, but still no body answered him.
"Oh you will, will you?" Uncle Vernon laughed. "Say's who?"
"Say's Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. They sent the letter and they say that's where I belong!" Harry shot back.
"Where you belong, boy, is an asylum!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "But seeing as how I don't want the questions as why you would be going, you will have to suffer with Stonewall. It may not have any flying donkeys or other nonsense, but it will have what a no good, rule breaking boy like you needs: firm discipline and an environment for hard, respectable work."
"NO! I am going to Hogwarts!" Harry said it with such finality and courage that it set Aunt Petunia back. Never had this boy, this scrawny little carbon copy of his bastard father, ever raised his voice, or talked back to them since we taught him not to. But now, there he is, looking her husband dead in the eyes telling him what will be happening. Nobody ever does that with out regretting it. Even she rarely does it, knowing the temper Vernon has. So what has happened here to change her nephew so much?
But then she saw it. As the yelling and arguing continued, Petunia saw Harry's eyes break contact from Vernon's and connect with hers and … there.
Those eye. The two emerald orbs that had always looked like Lily's, so much that Petunia has gotten in the habit of never looking Harry in the eye, for fear of seeing her sister again, those eyes were now looking straight at here. It was only for a split second before Harry went back to arguing with her husband, but it was enough to imprint their look into her mind; she couldn't not think of them and how identical they were to her baby sister's.
But even though they looked like Lily's eyes, there had always been a sadness and hint of fear in Harry's, which Lily's never held. That was partially why she tried to avoid contact with them. She never wanted to see fear in Lily's eyes, which were always full of love and life and hope. Even when Petunia would call her a freak and rave at her and say horrible things to her, Lily would always have a look in her eyes that told Petunia that she wasn't fooled by the tough act and that she knew exactly why her older sister would say what she said, and that Petunia didn't mean it, and that hopefully one day, when they were much older with husbands and children, they would be able to reconcile. Never once did Petunia see Lily's eyes full of fear and sadness she never wanted to.
She always imagined when she read the letter left with Harry, telling her how Lily died, standing in front of her child, accepting death rather than let some horror destroy her son, that when the monster who took her away said whatever spell he said, that Lily's eyes weren't full of fear and hopelessness. They would have been full of love for Harry and conviction that dying for her child was the right thing to do and hatred for the man who was causing this, but never fear.
And now, when she looked into her nephews eyes that had always looked like Lily's, she saw that now they are Lily's. There was none of the fear and sadness that had been there for years. Now they were full of love for his parents that he never new and the life he was destined for, the conviction that going to this school was the right thing for him, and hatred for her and Vernon as they kept him from being who he was supposed to be. Lily Evans could never be stopped once she set herself to do something, and, it looks like, neither can her son.
"Okay." She said.
"What?"
"WHAT!?"
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"
Aunt Petunia looked at Dudley and said, the gentleness in her voice that she always used with her son, "Dudy dearest, Harry is a wizard."
"A what?" Dudley asked dumbstruck.
Dudley could never grasp anything the first time he was told something. Although this is defiantly a bigger concept to grasp than the fact that Pluto was the name of a planet before it was the name of a cartoon dog, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Harry is a wizard, just like his mother and father and he will be leaving us to go to a freak school to learn how to not blow people up," Aunt Petunia explained the sharpness back in her voice as she glared at her nephew, careful not to look him in the eyes. "I will explain it all to you later."
Harry noticed her avoiding his eyes, but was too used to it and had more pressing questions to care.
" 'Will be leaving?' Are you saying I can go," Harry asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Yes. You can go."
"But Petunia, I thought we agreed that – "
"Vernon, think about it," Aunt Petunia said calmly. She had these excuses ready for years, knowing that this day would come and that no matter what they said or how they tried, Harry would go off just like Lily did. "If we send him off, we won't have to deal with him until July. That's ten whole months with him out of our hair. He will stay there for Christmas and Easter holidays, and when he graduates, we will never have to hear from him again."
Harry could see Uncle Vernon's mustache twitching, which meant that Aunt Petunia's reasoning was getting through to him. It was also having an effect on Harry. He never thought of what Aunt Petunia was saying and she was right. He only has to see the Dursley's 2 months a year, and once he graduates, he never has to see them again.
"If he went to Stonewall, he would come home every day, so he would always be here. But if we send him away to this freak school, in seven years, we only have put up with him for 14 months." Aunt Petunia finished and waited with Harry for Uncle Vernon's response. But all three of them knew that this was too good of an offer for him too pass off.
And sure enough, "Alright, alright. He can go."
Harry managed to restrain himself from shouting out in triumph, but it was a close thing. He felt as if his insides were doing the conga. He got himself under control in time to see Uncle Vernon turn to him, a finger pointing at him.
"You will go under these conditions. One, you never mention any of this to any of our neighbors." Harry nodded. He didn't care what anybody in this neighborhood thought. "Two, you WILL stay there for Christmas and Easter. Got that." He nodded again. Why would he voluntarily return when he could stay in a magic school? "Three, when you come home for the summer, their will be no magic here, no mention of it or anything having to do with your abnormality under this roof, or you will pay. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "I will do all that."
"Good. I will not have to deal with this nonsense any more than I have too." With that he sat back down in his chair. Picked up his paper, and tried to pretend he was reading.
With this cue, Dudley sat in front of the TV again and Aunt Petunia picked up her magazine and was just as successful at fake reading as her husband.
Harry knew he should leave, having gotten what he wanted and not wanting to push his luck. But he needed to ask what was on his mind.
"Uncle Vernon," Harry asked, the fierceness and determination gone from his voice, now back to his usual hopeful, pleading tone he usually used for asking favors.
Uncle Vernon grunted, although it was a much rougher grunt than before.
"I need to be able to buy my school things and in order to do that I need transportation. And," he added before Uncle Vernon could respond, "On September 1st, I need a ride to the Kings Cross station. Those are the only things I need your help with regarding my school. Other than that, I will not say another word about this for the rest of the summer."
Once again, Uncle Vernon's mustache twitched, telling Harry that he was seriously thinking about this.
"Alright." Uncle Vernon relented. "Tomorrow when I go into work, I will drop you off to buy your junk. This place is in London, correct?"
"Yes sir," Harry quickly said.
"Than I will drop you off. I will pick you up when I get off. This will give you 8 hours to do whatever it is you are going to do. I have to wait more than 10 minutes for you, I will leave and you will have to walk home. Got it." He gave Harry a glare that was practically begging Harry to argue.
But Harry was fine with this and told his Uncle so. When he asked about September 1st, Uncle Vernon just grunted.
Quickly saying thank you, Harry grabbed the Hogwarts letter, rushed out into the hallway and proceeded to have a quiet, yet energized, fit of happiness, which involved a lot of air punching and saying thank you to the ceiling.
Having all that out of his system, Harry hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a pencil, and quickly returned to his cupboard.
Retrieving the rest of his letter, he sat down on his cot, flipped the admittance letter over and wrote:
Dear Professor McGonagall,
I, Harry Potter, am looking forward and am quiet eager to come to Hogwarts. I hope I will meet your expectations.
Can't wait to start,
Harry James Potter
He quickly left his cupboard, opened the front door, placed the letter on the doormat, got a rock to keep it from blowing away, went back inside and into his cupboard.
Lying down to sleep, he took off his glasses, and thought before he fell into a deep slumber, 'This is the best day of my life.'
And they could only get better.
And they will.
Till next time. Later.
