CHAPTER 2

Air whooshed past Mr. Dursley's face. After what seemed to be the longest time, Vernon opened his eyes and saw clouds right in front of his face. He was flying.

Vernon looked down and saw his town below. He suddenly had a sense of how high he was and grabbed the broom tightly in his meaty hands. Little Whinging had no idea what terrors he was saving them from or what horrors he was going through to prevent those terrors.

Finally, Vernon got his bearings. He gently pushed the broom handle forward until it was level with the ground. The broom stopped climbing. Vernon remarked in his head how remarkable it was that the broom could handle his weight, and how unnaturally comfortable the shaft was as a seat.

Vernon took out his compass. His hand was almost frozen at this altitude, but Vernon didn't care. He looked down at the dial. He was headed south-east. Vernon wasn't sure what sort of route he would take to Japan, but he supposed that if he followed landmarks it shouldn't be too hard.

Vernon looked down again. Very few cars drove around at this hour. He wondered what someone would see if they looked up. A man his size riding such a tiny broom? It would look completely ridiculous!

Then another thought came to mind. What if someone recognized him? He'd be a laughingstock! Riding around on a broom? His colleagues would make him into an outcast!

But the thought passed.

"At this height," Vernon supposed, "people are more likely to mistake me for an oddly shaped balloon."

Once the Firebolt was headed in a constant direction, Vernon relaxed a little. He was still very cold, but the stars above comforted him.

He was halfway across the Channel when he realized he was still in his nightgown.

For a brief moment, he considered turning back. But he decided against it. Dudley's Playstation wasn't going to deliver itself!

The sun was rising as he passed Paris.

"Time for some breakfast," Vernon said to nobody in particular.

He turned around, opened the cooler and took out one of the eggs he had taken. Staring at the eggs, he realized that they were completely useless without a way to cook them. He considered eating the eggs raw, but instead threw them over the edge onto a group of unsuspecting tourists. He took out the bread and jam and ate that instead.

He passed the Eiffel Tower, as per his plan of sticking to landmarks. He turned a little bit east at that point, so that he could keep to the parts of Europe that he learned about in geography class.

The morning was spent sailing over the French countryside. Vernon began to feel sleepy at this point. He had not really slept the night before, and just watching grass and trees pass by below him was fairly boring. He knew he mustn't fall asleep, however, or he would crash and Dudley would never get his Playstation.

After a while, he started to feel hungry again. Vernon looked at his watch. It was half-past noon. He turned around, trying to remember if he'd brought any of their leftover roast beef.

He made a sandwich, substituting cucumbers for pickles. Vernon turned around and went to work eating. Suddenly, he looked up.

There was a giant mountain range right in front of him.

Vernon yanked up on the broomstick's handle. The Firebolt took him higher, over the Alps. Vernon breathed a sigh of relief and continued eating his sandwich.

As he finished his sandwich, Vernon heard a loud crash coming from below him. He looked down once again. He saw what looked to be two poorly dressed men throwing small stones at each other. Then he realized that he was too high up to see any ordinary sized man. These must be giants, like the man who gave Potter the letter three years ago.

Vernon thought about the world. He lived in a suburban paradise, where nothing was went wrong except maybe winning second prize in the best house awards. But his house contained Harry Potter, proof that there was more to the world than just clean contentment. Time and again he tried to stamp the real world out. In the process, he made the mistake of calling his world real and Harry's world make-believe. Perhaps he was the one fooling himself? But then he thought of his family, and all the happy people in the "real" world. Why should his life be ruined just because the reality of life is much grimmer than what meets the eye?

Vernon looked back. One of the giants had killed the other. He thought this was probably some sort of allegory for his life, but he dismissed it.

The Alps passed, and Vernon ducked back down. Oxygen that had been lacking in the past few hours re-entered the large man's bloodstream.

The sun began to set. Vernon turned around to prepare his dinner. He wasn't even sure what sort of foods he had left.

Just then, Vernon heard squacking from behind his back. He turned around to see a cloud of giant white birds- egrets, if he was not mistaken. He turned to avoid them, but it was too late. Vernon crashed into the egrets.

Vernon felt his grip slipping. The broom was falling out from underneath him. Vernon screamed in terror as he and his transport came tumbling to the ground.