"The Vanishing Glass" Harry read.
"Oo, sounds like accidental magic." Fred said.
"Bet it was funny." George said.
"I bet someone got traumatized." I said and Harry chucked a bit.
Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their 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 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 years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different colored bonnets –
"That's not nice Harry." Dudley said but was ignored.
But Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby,
"Physically, at least." I said. Dudley glared at me and I smirked at him.
And now the photograghs showed a large blonde boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel 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 another boy lived in the house, too.
Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep for the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.
"Up! Get up! Now!"
Harry woke with a start.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Is that the third person thing you were talking about?" Harry asked me and I nodded. He sighed and continued reading.
His aunt rapped on the door again.
"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. he had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.
"Great memory you have there Harry." Sirius said smiling faintly.
His aunt was back outside the door.
"Are you up yet?" she demanded.
"Nearly," said Harry.
"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 Dudley's birthday."
"Hey Petunia," she looked over to me, "put what you want in one hand and spit in the other, which do you get more of?" she glared at me.
"Percy, you can't put what you want in your hand." The other Percy told me.
"Exactly my point."
"So you're saying you'll get more spit than what you want." Draco stated.
"Wow. I thought that it would take you guys longer to figure that out." I said in mock surprise. They glared at me.
Harry groaned.
"What?" Ron looked confused.
"I was reading." Harry told his friend.
"Oh."
"What did you say?"
"I said 'oh'." Ron said and I chuckled. "Oh, you were reading again weren't you? Ok." That got a few more chuckles.
His 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. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider
Ron gave a slight shutter here.
Off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
"WHAT?" Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Remus, and myself all shouted. I may not have known Harry for very long but I would still yell at anyone who made a child sleep in a cupboard, even without the spiders. Most of the others looked shocked as well. Apparently Harry hadn't told anyone about that minor detail of his life. Harry cringed when we yelled.
"Why didn't you say anything, Harry?" Sirius demanded.
"Yeah, we could have done something to help you." Ron added. Harry didn't answer them and I knew why. Admitting to abuse was a weakness in the eyes of the abused. I know from experience. So instead of getting on to Harry about it I got straight to the point.
"Is it a pastime of yours to abuse and neglect children?" I demanded glaring at the Dursleys. They cringed under my gaze but that didn't stop them from answering truthfully.
"We didn't want the boy. All their kind will ever be is troublesome." Mr. Dursley said.
"Why would we care for something as abnormal as they are?" Mrs. Dursley asked offended.
"Abnormal or not it is still child abuse." They tried to say something but I would not have it. "There is no excuse for it. You, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, are despicable human beings if you think you can justify the mistreatment of children." Silence filled the room and I continued to glare at the Dursleys. Finally they looked down at the floor. Nobody spoke for a few more minutes, until Harry started reading again.
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he want, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.
Everyone was still too angry about the earlier revelation to comment on any of gifts the spoiled brat got.
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 someone.
I heard a few growls around the room at that. I was one of the ones that growled.
Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than the 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, knobby knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten 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.
"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.
About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way – all over the place.
I ran my hands through his hair when he said that last line. It flopped back to the way it was before I did that; it really did go everywhere. I chuckled a bit as I remembered how my hair acted when I had it short. Harry continued reading.
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.
I slapped Harry on the arm.
"Ow." He said rubbing the spot where I hit him. "What was that for?"
"Don't be insulting pigs, Harry. They never did anything to you." I scolded him. I got a few chuckles from the others in the room. Dudley and his parents glared at me. Severus almost smiled but I don't think anyone else noticed. Harry rolled his eyes and started reading again.
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 Mommy 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.
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…"
I face palmed here and Hermione looked mortified.
"Moron." I muttered.
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily
"You said that as if he could sit down lightly." I said to Harry and he actually smiled. A few of the others did too.
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 Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. 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 him." She jerked her head in Harry'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 restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he 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 Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."
The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.
"Well, Harry, you don't look like a slug to me." I told him because I could hear the bitterness and anger in his tone as he was reading. Whether the others noticed it, I didn't know, but I wanted to make him feel better.
"Thanks, Percy." He gave me a slight smile. I leaned over a bit and pecked him with a kiss on the cheek.
"Any time."
"What about what's-her-name, you friend – Yvonne?"
"On vacation 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 have a go on Dudley's computer).
"Not in a million years." Dudley almost yelled.
"Not like I got the chance anyway." Harry grumbled.
Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallow a lemon.
"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.
"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "…and leave him in the car…"
"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone…"
Several people looked appalled and a few more of us were glaring at the Dursleys.
Dudley began to cry loudly.
I saw a few of the others wrinkle their noses in disgust.
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 him spoil your special day!" she cried, fligging her arms around him.
"I … don't … want … him … t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.
Just then, the doorbell rang –
"Saved by the bell." I said grinning. Only Harry and Hermione seemed to understand it.
"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss,
I sniggered at the name. As did Ron and the twins.
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.
"That is un-sportsman like conduct." I said, glaring at the book.
"You say that like beating people up is a type of game." Ginny said giving me a pointed look.
"Bullying is not a game nor is fighting but there are just some things that brings one's status down to being less than dirt. And if you are one to stoup to those levels then you are even lower than that." I told them firmly.
"So you're a woman that cares about honor." Sirius stated with a smile. "That's always good to know."
"Question: Why were you sent to prison?" I asked and he cringed.
"I was accused of murdering a few people." He told me, his smile gone. But at least he answered.
"And did you?" I asked gently.
"No." I could tell I was starting to tread on dangerous waters but my curiosity was satisfied for now.
"Then that's all that matters." I told him, giving him a reassuring smile.
"And you're just going to except that, like it didn't even happen?" Mrs. Dursley demanded.
"Well if he didn't kill anyone, why should I treat him like he did?" I shot back.
"He could be lying about not killing them." Mr. Dursley pointed out. "You can never tell with their type."
"Sirius never killed those people." Remus spoke up and I could hear a growl escape his lips as well. Mr. Dursley scooted farther away from us.
"Plus, Mr. Dursley, I can tell when people are lying, and it never ends well for those who try." I tell him with a slight grin.
"And how can you tell when someone is lying?" Severus asked in his monotone.
"If you're going to play the game, Severus, you gotta learn to play it right." I told him.
"What game?" Lupin asked from his spot next to Sirius.
"If you want to stay in the game you have to be able to tell what cards the other players have." I gave them a hint.
"You brought a gambler into the family?!" Mr. Dursley shouted. Anyone who didn't know that I play poker blinked in surprise.
"We are all gamblers in some way, Vern." I told him calmly. "Besides I don't care about the money. There are much better ways to earn a living than swiping it from others like that. I just haven't figured out what I want to do with my life yet. Gambling is something to keep me entertained at present."
"Alright then Mrs. Potter," Ginny said with a slightly bitter undertone. "Here's a gamble for you, if you can keep your mouth shut for the rest of the –"
"Ginny," I interrupted her, "that is not what a gamble is. Nice try though." Before she could say anything else Harry started reading again.
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 Dursley's car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life.
"Ouch. You had a really sucky childhood." I said to Harry and he gave me no response. I frowned as he continued reading.
His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.
"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, but – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."
"That's harsh." Draco said. "Not even my father would do that."
"And that's saying something." Ron added in agreement.
"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly …"
"Not on purpose anyway." I mumbled and Harry gave me a slight smile.
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.
The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.
Once, Aunt Petunia, tied of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she 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 taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his 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
"Key word: trying." I said and I got a few smiles.
To force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls).
The girls that were present, me included, started gagging. Petunia looked offended.
"That was a lovely sweater." She muttered. We ignored her.
The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand 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.
On the other hand, he'd gotten in 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.
I could help but giggle at that part.
"Letters home are not something to giggle about." Other Percy said. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement.
"Well if you have my record with schools, it kind of is." I told him. "At least for that type of stuff."
"Too many pranks?" Draco asked with a bit of disdain, and a pointed look at the twins.
"You said 'schools', as in more than one." Hermione said carefully. "How many have you gone to?"
"Ten." Their jaws dropped. "All the letters my mom got were ones telling her I've been expelled. I did make it through all four years of high school at the same place, surprisingly. After blowing up the band room at freshmen orientation." They gave me stunned looks. "Totally blame the cheerleaders for that one."
"Why would you blame them?" Ron asked.
"Because it was actually their fault. I was just blamed for it."
"But why would they do it?" Charlie asked. I shrugged
"Because they're blood sucking she-demons."
"It's not nice to things like that." Mrs. Wealsey scolded me.
"It's not nice to frame people either." I shot back. That got them all to stop for now.
But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.
There were a few snorts around the room showing that I wasn't the only one who thought that explanation was complete bull.
But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figgs 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, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.
"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycles overtook them.
"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."
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 beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"
"Neither do warships." I muttered and chuckled a bit. Everyone looked at me strangely but they just left it alone.
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 his asking questions, it was his 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.
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 what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blonde.
A few of us glanced over to Dudley and noticed that he was scratching his head and did indeed look like a gorilla at the moment. I creaked up laughing, as did the twins.
Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He 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 lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They eat in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.
Harry felt, afterward, 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 there, 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 think, 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 trash can – 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 coils.
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, 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.
"I think the snake was ignoring them on purpose." I whispered to Harry. I got I smirk out of him.
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He woouldn'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.
"Do you think it could sense that you're a wizard?" I asked Harry, curious.
"I don't know." He replied. "I don't know if any regular animals can sense stuff like that."
"Only magical creatures can detect magical blood." Severus spoke up. "I doubt anything they have in a zoo would be able to."
Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.
It winked.
"Ha, it totally knows!" I said excitingly. Several people rolled their eyes at me.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling.
"Pretty sure it just rolled its eyes at them." I said and the twins, the two eldest Weasley sons, and Sirius and Remus chuckled.
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?"
"OK, mister. You must have a connection to snakes, Harry, for the both of you to communicate with each other." I said and Ron was about to say something but Harry cut him off by continuing to read.
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made them both jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley came waddling toward 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. 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 leapt back with howls of horror.
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.
"Like magic." I said creepily to add effect. There was silence for a few seconds before the Wealsey boys, minus Percy, and Sirius and Remus we all laughing. Harry also managed a few chuckles. Draco was trying not to laugh and covered it up with a cough. Severus gave a slight smile, one that you would only notice if you looked for it. The Dursleys glared at the rest of us. It took a few minutes for the laughter to die down enough for Harry to continue reading.
The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto 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."
"You can actually talk to snakes?" I asked my husband, and he slowly nodded. I could tell he was worried about how I would take that bit of info. "That's cool."
"And that doesn't worry you?" he asked, slightly angry, but for what I don't know. "I could set a snake on you at any time, and you don't even care?"
"Hey, I strangled a snake with my bear hands when I was three. The only ones that really worry me are the ones that are too big for me to strangle or are poisonous to the touch." I told him and I got a few more shocked looks. "What?"
"I've never heard of a snake being poisonous to the touch." Snape said. Many of the others nodded. "So where have you come by such knowledge?"
"Umm….. ah ….. State side." I answered, not want to spoil anything. "We'll eventually be getting to that, and it's a bit hard to explain how I came by them if you don't know anything about the background I come from." They didn't seem too happy with that answer. But Harry started reading before they could press the subject.
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 apologized 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?"
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. 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.
"I knew it." I heard Mr. Dursley grumble.
He'd lived with the Durslys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died.
"Because they didn't die in a car crash." Sirius said sadly.
Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke of them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.
When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia ha rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand 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.
At school, Harry had no one. 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.
"That's quite right." I said and they all looked at me because of my tone. "Although I would say it's more of a love to disagree with them."
"What are you talking about now?" Ron asked. I could tell they were all confused.
"Haven't any of you read the Odyssey?" they shook their heads. Well, all but one.
"It's a play written by a Greek poet in ancient times." Hermione informed everyone. "It's a rather good story."
"And that has to do with … what, exactly?" Draco asked.
"It's about a man named Odysseus who fought in the Trojan war and his ten year journey back home. On the way he landed on an island inhabited by Cyclopes and he and some of his men were captured and to get away he poked one of them in the eye making it go half blind and he used the name Nobody to trick the others." I told them.
"But…" Ginny started.
"The last line Harry read was 'Nobody likes to disagree with Dudley's gang'. Back when I was thirteen I had to pretend to be Nobody. So I am Nobody." They continued to start at me blankly. "This is why you never explain an inside joke." I grumbled as I opened up another warhead and popped it into my mouth. "So who's reading next?"
"How about you read?" Harry offered me the book. "Let someone else interrupt for a change. And it will give you something to do."
"Only if you try a warhead." I told him. I smirked as he made a face at me. Then again when he actually tried one of the warheads. I opened the book up to the third chapter. "The Letters From No One."