Violet made it to the kitchen just as the front door opened. Aunt Petunia stood waiting for her with her lips tightly pressed together.
"There you are," She hissed even as she heard Dudley ask for the Mason's coats in that same simpering voice from breakfast, "Hurry up!"
Violet did not look at her but picked up the tray and hurried into the lounge.
Mr Mason was tall, thin and balding with a dour expression while Mrs Mason was short with pinched features and a stern look. Both looked like they had never smiled in their lives.
"Welcome to our home, Mr and Mrs Mason," Aunt Petunia said as though she were addressing royalty, "Would you like a drink?"
Violet obligingly held up the tray. Mr Mason took both drinks with a curt 'thank you'. He sat on the sofa beside his wife and handed her the sherry. Both were looking around with cold expressions.
"Well," Uncle Vernon cleared his throat as he took a seat, "Some weather we've been having…"
Violet tuned the conversation out. She stood by the door to the kitchen and played with her hands, just another piece of the furniture as far as the Dursleys were concerned. Harry thought he had it tough by having to stay upstairs? At least he could read a book or talk to Hedwig while she was going to be here until the Masons went home. She thought of Aunt Petunia's dinner in the kitchen, and the massive violet pudding that was begging to be eaten. She was definitely doing the washing up so at least it would give her a chance to sneak some away and up to Harry.
Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. The noise brought Violet back to the room where everyone was looking at her. She felt her breath quicken and heat coming into her cheeks.
"Sorry?" She asked in a small voice.
"Mrs Mason would like another sherry," Uncle Vernon repeated. His voice was pleasant but, with his back to the Masons, his eyes were narrowed threateningly.
"Oh! Sorry," She scurried forward to take Mrs Mason's empty glass, uncomfortably aware of her steely gaze, "I'll just be a moment."
Mrs Mason took her refilled glass without comment. Uncle Vernon was in the middle of a joke.
"And then," he wheezed with laughter, "The American hits his first shot into the water, and the Japanese golfer says…"
To Violet, it didn't look like it was going very well. Mrs Mason was looking to him with obvious distain while Mr Mason had raised a warning eyebrow. Uncle Vernon had not noticed because he was laughing too much, encouraged by Aunt Petunia's toadying shrieks.
"And then the Japanese golfer hits his shot, and it goes into the hole, first time! And he turns to the American golfer and he says…"
Thump! Thump!
The noise drowned Uncle Vernon's words. Aunt Petunia stopped abruptly and everyone looked up in time to hear them again.
Thump! Thump!
Violet felt her mouth go dry. The banging was coming from their room. What was Harry doing?
"Ah," Uncle Vernon had gone pale. She could tell he was thinking quickly, "Dudley's television. He must have left it on, the little tyke. I'll just go turn it off."
He stomped from the room. An awkward quiet was left in his wake as the Masons looked to one another and Aunt Petunia cleared her throat.
"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr Mason..." She said.
"I play," He said cooly, "Occasionally."
There was another silence.
"We had to report in school about our heroes, Mr Mason," Dudley said. Violet stared at him in part astonishment and part horror. Surely, he wasn't going to say what she thought he was, "And I wrote it about you."
She closed her eyes to avoid the embarrassment. It didn't help much. Mr Mason did not reply to her cousin and the silence was even more awkward.
Uncle Vernon was not long in returning thankfully. His face was a little red, which Violet knew meant he had definitely been shouting at Harry. What had he been doing anyway? Was he trying to sabotage the night? Did he have a death wish?
"That's the television switched off now," He said as he took his seat beside Aunt Petunia, "So, Mr Mason, tell me have you been on any holidays recently?"
On and on the conversation went, with Violet's boredom only interrupted by the occasional need to refill the drinks. How much longer was this evening going to go on for? It felt like hours already.
Then the conversation turned to her.
"Your girl," Mrs Mason said while not looking at Violet, "What age is she?"
Uncle Vernon turned to look at her.
"Eleven, Mrs Mason," she said hurriedly.
"School age then," Mrs Mason took a sip of her sherry, "Presumably you'll be sending her to Saint Matilda's?"
Violet stared at her. Saint Matilda's was the posh and incredibly expensive prep school just outside the town. Surely, she didn't think the Dursleys were going to send her there?
Uncle Vernon took a moment before answering, "We would love to, of course, but she's a little slow for Saint Matilda's unfortunately. She doesn't have her cousin's brains. No, we'll be sending her to the local Comprehensive, won't we, Violet?"
"Yes," Her heart sank as she said it. She had hoped, well, she had thought, after last year and what had happened to Harry that she wouldn't be going to Stonewall High after all. That maybe a parchment letter like the hundreds that had arrived for her brother day after day would come for her when she had turned eleven. But no. No letters for her. Maybe they really thought she wasn't smart enough. Maybe she didn't have enough magic to go.
Splat!
Violet jumped as Aunt Petunia screamed. Mr Mason and Uncle Vernon had both leapt to their feet. Violet wheeled around to see that the violet pudding that was to be the showpiece of the meal was lying across the kitchen floor, up the cabinet doors, all over the table and even on the roof. Standing in the middle of it all, covered from head to foot, was Harry.
He was as pale as the cream that covered his face, eyes going silently from Aunt Petunia to Uncle Vernon to Violet. He seemed completely incapable of speaking.
"Ah," Uncle Vernon said, vein in his temple throbbing furiously, breath like that of a wounded rhino, "This is our nephew, Harry. We kept him upstairs…bit disturbed…doesn't like people…"
"I see," Mr Mason was watching Harry with that calculating look. He gave his wife a look. Violet saw her nod towards the door.
"Um, Mr Mason!" Violet spoke up hurriedly. Mr Mason had half-turned towards Uncle Vernon but instead fixed his eyes on her, "We're very sorry about that. Can I get you and Mrs Mason another drink? I'm sure I can clean this up in time for dinner."
He gave it a long moment's thought. Then nodded, "Very well. I'll take a juice please.."
Violet sighed in relief. If the Masons had stormed out now, then she dreaded to think what would have happened to Harry. She gave him a pointed look as everyone else headed back into the lounge.
"What are you doing?" She mouthed at him.
He just looked at her, stunned and leaning on the mop.
There came a piercing scream from the lounge.
Violet and Harry both ran in, just in time to see Mrs Mason running to the door as if she were on fire and a large barn owl dropping a letter on the sofa before swooping out through the open window.
Mr Mason was on his feet with narrowed eyes and closed fists.
"My wife," he said in a dangerous whisper. It was amazing how even someone so bulky and large as Uncle Vernon could seem small next to him, "Is ornithophobic."
"Oh dear," Uncle Vernon had gone ghostly white, "That's…very painful."
"It means she is afraid of birds, you fool," Mr Mason snapped and Uncle Vernon flinched, "I don't know what sort of madhouse you run here Dursley but rest assured, it will be a cold day in hell before I do business with Gruning's again. I'll see myself out."
He slammed the front door as he left, making the whole house rattle.
Uncle Vernon tore open the letter and read it. The vein in his temple wasn't throbbing now so much as trying to escape. His face was the deepest colour that Violet had ever seen it. She felt her breath catch, as if daring not to breath. Uncle Vernon though had eyes only for Harry, who he was advancing on as if possessed. He held out the letter for her brother to take.
"Read it," He hissed.
With trembling hands, Harry took the letter and read,
"Dear Mr Potter,
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic"
Harry gulped and looked up at Uncle Vernon.
"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to magic outside of school," he said with a mad gleam in his eyes, "Forgot all about it. Slipped you mind, I dare say."
Harry looked petrified.
"Well, I have news for you boy. I'm locking you up! You're never going back to that school! And if you try to magic your way out, they'll expel you!" Uncle Vernon gave a mad laugh that had Violet backing away,
He grabbed Harry and dragged him upstairs by the arm, leaving Aunt Petunia, Dudley and Violet stunned in the lounge.
It was Violet who cleaned the kitchen. It took hours as the pudding had found its way into every possible nook and cranny of the room. It was long past midnight by the time she finished but when she tried to go up to bed, she found Uncle Vernon barring her way.
"You're sleeping down here, in the lounge." He said.
"But-"
"Don't," He hissed like a cobra. Violet was instantly quiet, "Test me, girl. Lounge. Bed."
He waited until she was in the room before slamming the door shut at her back. She lay on the sofa, with just her coat to put over herself and thought over the night again and again. She could not get the image of Harry's stunned face out of her mind. What had he been doing? Why had he even come downstairs? All she could think was that he had been trying to grab something to eat, to sneak into the kitchen without being seen. But why go near the pudding? Had he been that desperate for some? All those years he had slept in the cupboard under the stairs, it had been her who had snuck him food. Surely, he knew she would do it again? Unless he had forgotten in the past year? She shook her head, tried to get comfortable on the sofa and eventually fell asleep.
If Violet had hoped her uncle would have calmed down with a night's sleep, then she was sorely disappointed.
At the crack of dawn, a man appeared to fit bars on the bedroom window. Uncle Vernon himself worked all morning to add a cat flap to the locked door. Harry was forbidden to come out and Violet was forbidden from going near him.
It was evening before she had her chance. When the Dursleys had finished their dinner and gone into the lounge to watch television. Violet had, as ever, been left behind to do the dishes. Only then did she sneak upstairs with her own half-eaten lasagne for Harry. She sat with her back against the door as he explained what had happened.
"A house elf?" She whispered over her shoulder, "A house elf dropped the pudding? Why?"
"He wanted to stop me going back to Hogwarts. He said there was going to be terrible things happening this year." Harry's voice was muffled as he ate his lasagne.
"Do they often do that?"
"I don't know," Harry snapped, "I've never met a house elf before!"
"So," Violet frowned, "By dropping the pudding, he's hoping you'll not be allowed to go back?"
"Well, it's worked. I'll be collecting a pension before Uncle Vernon lets me out."
"He might calm down in a few days."
"Not this time. I think he really means it."
"Won't they notice if you don't turn up this year?"
"I hope so, that's my only chance. As long as I don't starve before then."
"I won't let that happen."
"Don't get on the wrong side of him, Vi. Not when he's in this mood."
She didn't answer him, but they were both thinking the same thing. No matter the risk, she wasn't going to abandon her brother. "If it helps, I don't think the pudding was very good. I tried it a bit while I was cleaning up. It wasn't sweet enough."
Harry laughed, "Only you would say that about a mountain of cream. I guess there'll be no holiday home in Majorca then?"
"Probably for the best," Violet grinned, "Can you imagine Uncle Vernon in speedos?"
Harry half-laughed, half-groaned through the door. It was a good feeling to know she could still make him smile.
"I need to go," She whispered as the clear plate came through the flap, "I might not get back until dinner tomorrow."
"You're amazing," There was a small chirp from in the room, "Hedwig thinks you're amazing too."
"Hang in there," She gave the door a gentle tap before sneaking back down the stairs.
The following day was no more fun. Uncle Vernon was still like a gorilla with a headache, the sofa had been as uncomfortable than the previous night and there was no sign at all that Harry was going to let out. She had spent the day out of her uncle's way in the garden, as it seemed like a single misplaced breath would see him explode in rage.
It wasn't until that evening that Violet could get back up to Harry. Dinner had been a chicken and mushroom pie with boiled potatoes, and she had managed to save most of her helping. She could hear the news from the living room downstairs and the beeping of Dudley's computer game from his bedroom. He would be in there for the rest of the night.
"What have I missed?" Harry asked through a mouth full of potato.
Violet thought, sitting cross-legged in front of the door, "Dudley got a new stick for Smeltings."
"He's got another one?"
"He broke his over some boy's head at the end of last year. Apparently, the other boy was teasing him."
"I bet he was," Harry snorted.
Violet sighed heavily, "And Aunt Petunia got my uniform for Stonewall High."
"You got a new uniform?"
Now it was her who snorted, "As if. She got it in a charity shop. It looks like the girl before me washed it in a blender."
"You'll not be wearing it anyway, Vi. You're going to Hogwarts. Hagrid said you would."
"But my letter should have been here by now," She said, "I'm going to Stonewall High, aren't I?"
"No," Harry's voice was fierce, "If Dobby could stop my letters, he could stop yours. He probably doesn't want you going either."
"Why should he be any different-"
"Ah ha!"
Violet's insides turned to ice. Uncle Vernon was standing at the top of the stairs. His face was a deep red, his eyes gleamed with malevolence, and he had a horrible, wide smile.
"I knew you were helping him," he said menacingly as he advanced on her like a bear, "Thought you'd sneak him up some food, eh? Thought you'd ignore your uncle's orders."
Violet was scrambling back on her hands as quickly as she could, heart thumping furiously against her chest. Her mind was frozen in panic. She couldn't think of anything to say. She backed as far as she could and pressed against the wall.
"Well," Uncle Vernon drew the word out, "I think someone needs taught a lesson."
He grabbed her thin wrist painfully tightly. Violet cried out in pain as he hauled her to her feet.
"Hey!" Harry was banging on the door and Hedwig was screeching in her cage, "Hey! Don't hurt her!"
Violet struggled but she was no match for her uncle as he dragged her down the stairs. She saw Aunt Petunia's pale face in the lounge before Uncle Vernon opened the cupboard under the stairs and threw her inside. He slammed the door with a deafening bang and locked the bolt.
"This will teach you a lesson!" Uncle Vernon stomped away.
The cupboard was pitch black. The air was stale, musty, and full of dust. Violet could hear her breath; fast and shallow. She was shivering fiercely but it had nothing to do with being cold. She wrapped her arms around her legs, placed her forehead against her knees and gave a quiet sob.