It was seconds before school let out for the summer and Harry was perched on the edge of his seat and ready to get out of there. Usually Harry would dawdle after school, hoping to avoid his cousin Dudley on the way home, but today was different. Today Uncle Vernon was having a client over for dinner and Harry was spending the night at Mrs. Figg's. That meant, if Harry could get home fast enough, he wouldn't have to see his cousin or uncle at all. This was a special treat- as much as Harry hated camping out on Mrs. Figg's mothball scented couch it was much better than a night spent in his cupboard within range of his cousin's fists.
As the bell rang Harry sprang out of his seat and half sprinted to the door. Just as he was about to get out, he was cut off by a hand on his shoulder. He froze, and looked up.
His teacher's smiling face looked down on him. "Harry?" Mrs. Cuthbert said. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"
After a moment Harry nodded, watching his cousin, Dudley, squeeze through the door of the classroom. It looked like Harry wouldn't be able to avoid him after all.
Mrs. Cuthbert guided Harry to a seat by her desk and sat him down while she pulled up a chair right across from him. She hadn't been Harry's teacher for long; she'd just started a few weeks before when Mrs. Robinson had refused to teach at St. Gregory's after the administration had refused to believe her claims of Harry turning her hair blue. Mrs. Cuthbert made Harry nervous. She always seemed to be watching him. She would call on him in class, or try to get him to play with the other children when all Harry wanted to do was keep his head down. Right now, she was calmly sitting across from him with a smile on her face, watching Harry nervously flatten his hair.
"Harry," she said, "How are you doing?"
"I'm good, Mrs. Cuthbert." He replied, glancing at the clock. Aunt Petunia would lock him in his cupboard for a week if he got back late.
"Are things going alright at home?" she continued. Seeing his confused look, she added "Do you like living with your aunt and uncle?"
"Yeah. It's fine, I guess."
It was another fifteen minutes before Harry was able to escape his teacher's interrogation. When he did, he dashed out of the building and ran as fast as his legs could carry him back to number four Privet Drive. When he got there, his aunt greeted him with a glare.
"You're late." she said. And then with a sniff added. "And you smell awful, go get yourself cleaned up. Do something with your hair."
Harry brushed his hand over his head, flattening his locks as much as he could. "I can do that at Mrs. Figg's," he suggested hopefully. "I don't want to be in the way." If he hurried, he could be out of the house before Uncle Vernon came home.
His aunt looked at him disdainfully. "Don't be stupid" she said. "You're not going to Mrs. Figg's."
"But, why-"
"Don't ask questions!" she snapped and handed him a scratchy pile of cloth. "Get cleaned up and put this on."
"Go!"she cried, as Harry opened his mouth again. So he went.
An hour and a half later, Aunt Petunia was giving Harry a once over. He nervously tried to run his hand through his hair but she grabbed his wrist before he could. "Don't make yourself a mess," she said.
Harry's hair had been plastered to his head with every ounce of hair gel in Privet Drive. He doubted his hand had enough strength to disrupt the cemented hair, but he didn't say anything. Aunt Petunia continued looking him over; finally she sighed, adjusted his tie for the hundredth time and said "I suppose you'll do. It's not like we could expect you to look good."
Harry caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and shrugged, hoping that Aunt Petunia would let him out of her sight for a moment so that he could scratch under the cheap fabric of his collar.
Aunt Petunia's excited squeal made him look up. "Look at my Diddikins! So handsome just like his daddy!"
Dudley's pink face gave Harry a smug grin as Aunt Petunia enveloped his huge form in an embrace. The only thing short of a tail that could make Harry's cousin look more pig like, in Harry's opinion, would be if his yellow suit became pink. Harry snorted quietly.
Aunt Petunia's attention snapped back to Harry.
"What was that?!" she snapped. Before Harry could ask her what she was talking about she had ordered him into the kitchen to watch the stove. As he went through the door she called after him "And don't spill anything on that suit! I'm returning it tomorrow!"
After a few minutes of Harry ignoring his aunt's muffled praise of Dudley's appearance through the wall, Uncle Vernon came home. Dudley was sent upstairs to watch TV in his room. Soon after the tell-tale thumps of his ascent were through, Harry heard his name in Aunt Petunia's hushed voice. He edged closer to the door to listen.
"But Vernon," she said, "I don't understand why he has to be here."
"Pet," Uncle Vernon replied, sounding smug "If I play my card right and the boy doesn't do any freaky stuff I could make the biggest sale of my life"
A kitchen timer rang and Harry jumped. He had barely managed to get back on the stack of telephone books he used to reach the stove when Aunt Petunia came in. She shoved him out of the kitchen.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon called eagerly, sounding happy to see Harry for the first time ever. "Come over here!"
Harry shuffled over to his uncle, thinking wistfully of Mrs. Figg's cat photos. They were so much more appealing than his uncle's puce face. A face that was currently smiling at Harry so broadly that it looked like a Jack O' Lantern.
"A new suit?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Yeah, Aunt Petu-"
"Splendid!" Uncle Vernon interrupted, grabbing Harry's shoulder. "You know boy," he continued. "It hasn't been easy, taking care of you since your parents went and got themselves killed."
Harry stood still, staring at his uncle in disbelief.
"I think we've done a mighty fine job of it, considering what we were given to work with. Kept you from freakish nonsense and fed and clothed you. Why, without us, boy, you'd be on the street!"
Harry opened his mouth, ready to chime out 'Yes Uncle Vernon', and make an escape, but his uncle kept talking.
"I want you to let Mr. Grayson know about that tonight, boy. He was a circus brat whose parents' got themselves killed in some accident and decent people took him in and bettered him. Boy, I want you to-" Uncle Vernon went on for a while, giving Harry exact instructions on what to say and how to behave. Finally, Aunt Petunia called him from the kitchen to set the table and he made his escape.
As he gathered the place settings Aunt Petunia grabbed his wrist and hissed in his ear. "Boy, if you mess this up, or do anything," Her grip grew tighter, "freakish, you'll be in your cupboard all summer."
She glared down at him, not releasing till Harry nodded, then strode out of the room.
AN: This was edited by my lovely sister. Later chapters will get a bit longer. Please review if you're reading this, even if it's just to tell me I'm the worst writer ever born and should never be allowed within ten feet of a pen or paper. It might be a while before more chapters get posted, but don't worry, I'm not abandoning the story.