Nearly 10 years had passed since Harry and Violet had been left with their aunt and uncle, but the house remained as it ever was. The only clue that time had passed were the photos on the wall. Ten years ago, the photos showed appeared to be a pink beach ball in different colored bonnets, but Dudley Durley was not a baby any longer. The photos now showed a very large boy being hugged and kissed by his mother, riding a bike for the first time, on a ride at the fair, and playing a computer game with his father. There was no indication of another boy living in the house at all, but Harry Potter was still there.
As he slept, he saw visions of a flying motor bike and his sister. He saw her as she held him, protecting him from Dudley's pinches. She sang to him as he lay in his room. She cried as a woman in odd clothes pulled her away from the house.
"Up!" Aunt Petunia's voice wrenched Harry from a peaceful sleep. His startlingly green eyes popped open. "Get up now!"
Harry sat up slowly as his aunt rapped on his door. He tried to hold on to his dream, the only time he ever got to see his sister anymore. However, the visions faded quickly and soon all he knew was that he had dreamed of Violet Potter, but did not have details. He hugged his knees to his chest. It had been nearly eight years since the Dursleys had sent his sister away. He had only been three years old at the time, so he did not remember why she was sent away. But now, Aunt Petunia rarely mentioned her and Uncle Vernon pretended she never even existed. Harry had asked about her once.
"Don't be ridiculous," Uncle Vernon had snapped. "You don't have a sister!"
But Harry knew this wasn't true. He remembered his sister very clearly. So he asked Aunt Petunia about it after Uncle Vernon left for work.
"We… had to send her to a mental hospital," she had said rather stiffly as she washed dishes. "She was traumatized by the car crash that killed your parents. Now don't ask questions!"
Don't ask questions. It was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.
But Harry couldn't help missing his sister. As he did every morning, he reached under his pillow and took out two small, crumpled photos. The first one was a black and white photo of two young girls. The back had a note written in unfamiliar handwriting.
Petunia and Lily Evans, 1968.
The shorter of the girls was his mother. It was the only photo he had of her, but he recognized her because his eyes were the exact same shape as Harry's eyes.
He looked at the second photo. This one was a picture of Harry and Violet Potter. Aunt Petunia had given them to him after Uncle Vernon had left for work the morning of Harry's birthday last year with strict rules not to tell Uncle Vernon that they existed. This one was not labeled but Harry knew Violet was four years old in the photo, meaning Harry was three. The pair were sitting on the same couch that sat in the family room today, smiling at the camera. It was the only photo he had of his sister. The only proof he had of her existence besides his memories and Aunt Petunia's confirmation.
Harry heard Aunt Petunia walk to the kitchen and begin making breakfast. Harry tucked the photos safely back under his pillow and, a moment later, her footsteps returned and she rapped smartly on his door again.
"Are you up yet?" she asked.
"Nearly," he answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Hurry up. I need you to look after the bacon. I want everything perfect for Dudley's birthday."
Harry groaned.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing."
Dudley's birthday, he had nearly forgotten. Harry felt around to find clean socks and pulled a spider off of them before putting them on. He was used to spiders. There were a lot of them in the cupboard under the stairs, which was where Harry slept. He got dressed and went into the kitchen. The table was covered in Dudley's birthday presents. Looks like he got the new computer he demanded, the second television, and a racing bike. Why Dudley wanted a racing bike was beyond Harry. Dudley was very fat and hated exercise unless it involved hitting someone. His favorite target was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.
Harry had always been short and skinny for his age. The only clothes he owned were Dudley's hand-me-downs which were four times too big and made him look even skinnier. His black hair was stubbornly untidy and his glasses were held together with a lot of tape. The only thing Harry liked about the way he looked was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, a souvenir from the car crash his aunt and uncle said killed his parents.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.
"Comb your hair," he barked, his usual morning greeting.
Once a week, Uncle Vernon told Aunt Petunia that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than all the boys in his class combined, but it didn't do any good. He hair just grew like that: all over the place.
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley came down with his mother. He scrutinized the mountain of gifts and then looked at his father.
"Thirty six. That's two less than last year."
"Now, now, Diddy. You haven't counted Aunt Marge's gift under this big one."
"Fine," Dudley said, his face reddening. "Thirty seven."
Harry could feel a tantrum coming and started wolfing down his bacon as fast as he could. Dudley had been known to flip the table during a tantrum. It's possible Aunt Petunia sensed danger as well.
"And we'll buy you two more presents while we're out today," she added.
Dudley thought hard.
"So then I'll have thirty… thirty…"
"Thirty nine, sweetums."
"Oh."
Dudley sat down and began unwrapping his gifts as the phone rang. Aunt Petunia got up to answer it as Uncle Vernon chuckled.
"Little tike wants his money's worth."
Aunt Petunia returned, looking worried.
"Bad news. Arabella's broken her leg. She can't keep him," she said jerking her head at Harry.
Harry looked up. Every year for his birthday, his parents too him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks or the cinema. Every year Harry was left with his batty old neighbor, Mrs. Figg. Harry hated it there. The house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at pictures of all the cats she'd ever owned.
"Now what do we do?" Aunt Petunia asked.
"We could phone Marge."
"Don't be silly, Vernon. She lives two counties away. Besides, she hates the boy."
"What about your friend, Yvonne?"
"She's on holiday."
"You could just leave me here," Harry said hopefully.
"And come back to the house in ruins?" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Not a chance, boy!"
Half an hour later, Harry couldn't believe his luck as he sat between Dudley and his friend, Piers Polkiss, as they drove to the zoo. Before they got into the car, however, Uncle Vernon had pulled Harry aside.
"I'm warning you now, boy, any funny business and you'll have no meals for a week!"
"I won't do anything," Harry promised.
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. They never did. The trouble was, odd things just happened around Harry and there was no use telling his aunt and uncle he didn't do them. One day Aunt Petunia was trying to force a revolting sweater over Harry's head and it got smaller and smaller until it might have fitted a hand puppet. Another time Harry was running from Dudley and his gang of friends when, just as much to his surprise as anyone else's, he found himself on the school roof. And then there was the time Aunt Petunia sheared all of Harry's hair off except his bangs ("To cover that awful scar.") Harry barely slept as he worried about the next day at school where he was already teased for his glasses and baggy clothes, only to wake up the next morning to find his hair had regrown overnight.
But today, nothing would go wrong. It was even worth dealing with Dudley and Piers to spend a day someplace different.
On the way to the zoo, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain. People at work, Harry, politics, Harry, the bank, and Harry were a few of his favorite topics. Today the topic was motorbikes. He hated how the noise, the young riders, and how they darted between cars in traffic.
"… roaring along like maniacs!"
"I had a dream about a motorbike," Harry said, mostly to himself as he remembered. "It was flying."
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front of them as he slammed on the brakes and turned around in his seat to look at Harry, his face brick red.
"MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY!" he roared.
Dudley and Piers sniggered.
"I know they don't," Harry said. "It was only a dream…"
He fell silent at a quick warning glance from Aunt Petunia. He wished he hadn't said anything. Uncle Vernon hated any talk about things behaving in any way other than it should. He didn't even like Harry watching cartoons as if they would give the boy dangerous ideas.
It was a hot sunny day and the zoo was crowded with families on summer outings. Uncle Vernon bought large chocolate covered ice creams for Dudley and Piers. The lady at the ice cream stand asked Harry what he wanted before Uncle Vernon could shoo him away. Uncle Vernon gave Aunt Petunia a dollar and told her to get Harry a cheap lemon pop. The moment he turned away, she reached into her purse for a few more coins and bought a small ice cream cone instead. Harry thanked his aunt and when Uncle Vernon asked, she lied and said they were out of anything cheaper.
Harry had an incredible morning. He walked several feet behind the Dursleys so Dudley and Piers, who were getting bored by lunch time, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They had lunch in the zoo restaurant. Dudley threw a tantrum because his ice cream wasn't big enough and Harry was allowed to finish it and Dudley got a new one.
Later, Harry felt he should have known it was all too good to last.
They entered the reptile house. Dudley and Piers wanted to see venomous cobras and man crushing anacondas, so they were naturally disappointed when all they found were sleepy lizards and lounging pythons. They rushed to the largest window with the largest snake. Dudley pressed his nose to the glass, making him look more pig-like than usual.
"Make him move," he moaned to his father.
Uncle Vernon rapped his knuckles on the glass, but the snake did not move.
"Do it again!"
He wrapped his knuckles on the glass again, harder this time, but the snake seemed to be fast asleep.
This is boring," Piers complained.
He and the Dursleys went to look at the other animals while Harry looked at the giant python.
He felt sorry for the creature. Harry knew from experience that it must be a boring life to sit in a cage all day. It wasn't too different from his bedroom under the stairs. Harry guessed he was slightly better off than the snake. At least he, Harry, got to visit the rest of the house.
The snake suddenly opened its eyes. Slowly, it raised its head until it was level with Harry.
And it winked!
Harry looked around, but no one else was watching. He looked at the snake again and winked somewhat uncertainly back.
The snake looked towards Harry's family and raised it's eyes to the ceiling as if to say, "I get that all the time."
"It must be very annoying," Harry said. He couldn't believe he was talking to a snake!
The snake nodded.
"Where are you from?"
The snake uncoiled and jabbed its tail at a sign on the wall by its window.
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
"Was it nice there?"
It jabbed at the sign again and Harry kept reading.
This specimen was bred in captivity.
"Oh I see. What about your siblings? Are they here too?"
The snake shook its head.
"Were they sent to other zoos, then?"
It nodded.
"That's me as well," Harry told the snake sadly. "My uncle had my sister sent away when I was three. I haven't seen her in…"
A deafening shout behind Harry cut off his words and made him and the snake jump in surprise.
"Dudley! Mr. Dursley! Come and look at this snake! You won't believe what it's doing!"
"Move it you!" Dudley shouted at Harry as he elbowed his cousin in the ribs.
Taken by surprise, Harry fell painfully to the concrete floor. What happened next happened to fast no one saw how it occurred. One second, Piers and Dudley were pressed against the glass watching the snake as it hissed at them, annoyed. The next second, they had leaped back with howls of horror. The glass had vanished! The great snake slipped out of its enclosure.
"Brazil, here I come! Thankssss amigo!"
Harry blinked in shock, certain he must have imagined the snake's voice. The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
"The glass… Where's the glass? What happened to it?"
The zoo director personally made a cup of strong tea for Aunt Petunia. All Piers and Dudley could manage was jabbering. As far as Harry saw, the snake had only playfully snapped at their ankles as it passed. But by the time they got home, both boys were swearing they had nearly been bitten and crushed to death. As they got home Piers came to his senses enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you Harry?"
Uncle Vernon waited until Mrs. Polkiss came to collect her son before rounding on Harry. He was so angry he could only manage a few words.
"Go… cupboard… Stay… No meals…"
He collapsed into his arm chair and Aunt Petunia ran to fetch him a strong drink. From his cupboard, Harry could hear Uncle Vernon shouting at Aunt Petunia saying Harry's presence in their lives was "all her fault."
It was hours later, long after Uncle Vernon had gone to bed when Aunt Petunia quietly opened the cupboard door and gave Harry a sandwich and a glass of water. After he finished, she handed him a canteen full of water. Harry took it wordlessly, afraid, as he guessed Aunt Petunia was too, that any sound would wake Uncle Vernon and he would discover their unspoken truce.
It was not the first time Uncle Vernon had ordered Harry to go without meals. Each time, Aunt Petunia had manage to sneak him small meals after Uncle Vernon left for work and Dudley went out with his friends. Harry knew his aunt did not dare act in front of her husband. Harry had never seen Uncle Vernon raise a hand to Aunt Petunia like he often did to Harry. But the shouting like today happened often enough that Harry could see it had an effect on his aunt. He sometimes wondered if Uncle Vernon's shouting was why she kept the house so surgically clean.
Harry took a drink from his canteen and lay on his bed, staring up at the dark underside of the stairs. On nights like this, Harry used to day dream of some unknown relation would come and take him away from the Dursleys house. And then they could rescue his sister from the asylum and they could live as a happy family somewhere in the country.
But no one ever came. The Dursleys were Harry's only family. Harry took out the photographs of his mother and sister. He only looked at his mother for a moment. His eyes and thoughts lingered on his sister. Did they treat her well in the asylum? Or was she as lonely and miserable as Harry was? He hoped the doctors and nurses were kind to her. He wouldn't wish this life on anyone.
Well, maybe on Dudley.
But no one else.
