Hissing in the garden
A house stands on number four Privet drive; it’s a completely normal house, home to a completely normal family. Yet a dark secret of the family lurks within the house. In the house is a small, cramped cupboard and within the cupboard lies a small boy.
“Freak! Wake-up! You better wake-up and start our breakfast!” A large, round man named Vernon Dursley yells through the house.
Hadrian’s small body shuffles in the cupboard, before quickly coming out and rushing to the kitchen. His small frame from years of malnutrition stands on the tips of his toes pouring eggs into a hot pan. Hadrian stirs and scraps the eggs in the pan while checking on the bacon in the stove and the toast in the toaster.
I quickly work on making them their breakfast, Mrs.Dursley hovers behind the island tapping her fingers on her crossed arms.
“Freak! You better not burn our breakfast!” Mrs.Dursley scowls.
I lower my head as I scrape eggs off the pan onto three plates, “I won’t Mrs.Dursley,” I utter.
She looks down at me her face has a permanent look of disgust, “When you're done with our breakfast, go and tend to my garden. Especially my roses. They need weeding,” she pauses to scoff. “And if you manage to not screw up, I might let you eat something after we go to sleep.” Mrs.Dursley announces.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.
I pull the bacon from the oven as the toast from the toaster pops up. I put together three plates and bring them to the table, “I have finished your breakfast.” I announce.
Mr.Dursley is the first to push himself from the chair his body has moulded too. Once he sits himself at the table, Mrs. Dursley’s boney figure sits next to her husband.
“Dudley-kins! Breakfast!” Mrs.Dursley yells cheerily.
As steps thunder down the stairs, I back up from the table into the kitchen. Dudley’s round body plops thunderously onto the table’s wooden chair. I begin to wash the dishes used to make breakfast as Dudley begins to inhale his food. Dudley shoves the plate's food into his mouth as Mr.Dursley does the same. Mrs.Dursley eats slower as she cuts her bacon with a knife and fork. When they’re done eating I clear the table of their breakfast. The three Dursley’s move to the living room to watch a new episode of something.
My long and baggy sleeves hang low at my elbows, too large to fully push up. After finishing up the dishes and placing them onto the drying rack.
“I shall be outside tending to your garden Mrs.Dursley,” I announce.
My knees dig into the dirt as I pull the weeds from Mrs.Dursley’s roses. Jagged thorns slice my hands when they come near the stems. The hot sun rays beam on me making sweat stick to my back. I try to wipe my hair from my eyes but it's sticking to my forehead. The heat is making it hard to breathe and blood drips down my palms.
As I move down to the next pair of roses, a small hissing noise comes from behind the flowers. I’ve been out here for hours in the heat, it’s probably all in my head. I continue the process of pulling weeds from around the roots of flowers. The hissing grows louder, I ignore it and reach back farther to pull a difficult weed. A cool, scaly feeling glides over the back of my hand.
“Ahhgh!” I scream as I quickly yank back my hand.
“Fear not young one, I will not harm you,” a small voice almost seems to have hissed.
“What!? Who said that?!” I yelp.
“A speaker!” A distinct hiss seems to yell.
I look down to try and discover the location of the hissing, a pair of onyx eyes stare at me. A small black snake has its head raised, looking at me. It seems to almost be smiling somehow.
“How can I— How can I hear you?” I ask, my heart pumps hastily in my chest as my breathing comes out short and fast.
The snake's body slithers closer as I crouch down to see the snake more clearly. “You are a speaker! It’s been so long since we’ve heard a speaker,” the small snake exclaims.
Huh? What is a speaker? I wonder.
“Can you explain what a speaker is?” I ask as my heart seems to calm.
The small snake tilts its head, “A speaker is a wizard that can speak our language. Our language is parseltongue and you are what is called a parselmouth by the other wizards.”
“Wha—? A wizard? What’s that?” I seem to be hissing too.
The small snake shakes its head, “You. You are a wizard.” The snake pauses to flick out its tongue, “A wizard is someone who has magic,” the small snake explains.
What? I’m a wizard? Magic? I’m so confused.
“But Mr.Dursley says magic isn’t real, “ as I say this the snake has slithered onto my hand and is flicking its tongue at the open cuts over my hands.
“What are yo—? As I begin to ask, the cuts begin to heal and the stinging soon disappears. “Huh?!” I exclaim.
The snake coils up my arm and lays on my shoulder. “I will show you the ways of magic little speaker and will prove to you the existence of magic.” The snake says.
“Okay, but I will have to hide you from the people I live with. They wouldn’t react well to me having a snake, especially if magic is involved.” I say.
A chill runs down my spine as I shudder thinking of what Mr.Dursley would do if he saw me doing anything freak-ish. The welts and scars seem to have phantom pains as I remember the last time I did something Mr.Dursley declared as freak-ish.
I raise my shoulder so the snake slithers in my hand. “What is your name?” I hiss.
The small snake lifts its head and tilts it, “I have no name.”
I frown, “Well, can I give you one?”
The snake seems surprised, her little onyx eyes meet my green ones. “You may give me a name, little speaker.”
I gaze at the small snake in my hand, her black scales glistening in the sunlight, what is a good name for her?
“How about…? Hmm? Do you like the name Manasa?” I question.
The snake stills in thought before responding, “It is good, what does it mean?”
“Manasa is a goddess of snakes in northeastern India,” I pause to breathe, “I thought you deserved a powerful name.”
“Beautiful, I will greatly enjoy this name,” Manasa says with a nod.
“Great, now I will finish the weeds and we can go inside,” I say.
“Wait, little speaker, what is your name?” Manasa asks.
“My name is…? Freak, I think. Yes, I think my name is Freak.” I respond to Manasa before reaching for another stubborn weed and pulling.
Manasa’s head quickly moves to face me, it seems like little tears are in her eyes. She almost seems to be frowning as she says, “Little speaker… I don’t think that is your name.”
I stop pulling the weed, “Huh? No it is, it’s the only name I have ever been called, so it must be my name.” My hair moves as I shake my head.
Manasa shakes her tiny head, “If you think so little speaker, but I believe you have a different name. We will find out what it is one day.” She sadly hisses.
Me and Manasa stay talking for a while as I finish pulling the weeds from the roses. Once all the weeds are pulled I place her into my pants pocket, “Hide in here until I let you know it’s safe to come out, okay?” I tell Manasa.
Once I make sure that Manasa is comfortable, I head inside. My shoulders sag as I'm finished being hunched over on my knees pulling weeds. Pain shoots through my back and shoulders, I take a deep breath before heading inside.
“I see you’ve finished my garden,” Mrs.Dursley sneers as soon as I step through the doorway and close the door.
I stop walking, looking at the floor as I speak, “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs.Dursley crosses her arms, tapping her fingers on her elbows. “Good, now Vernon will be home from work soon. So get started on our dinner,” she orders.
“Yes, ma’am.” I respond.
Mrs.Dursley sits on an armchair while I begin to make a roast and mashed potatoes for their dinner. The delicious smell of the food wafts through the room, a familiar pain tinges in my stomach. I ignore it as I’ve grown accustomed to the pain.
The front door slams open, “Honey, I am home from work. Is dinner done by that freak?”
He makes his way to the living room as he pulls off his jacket. He stares at me as I scrap their finished dinner onto plates.
“Dinner is done, sir.” I tell him.
Mr.Dursley plops down onto his chair as Mrs.Dursley follows. Soon after, Dudley comes downstairs to his chair as well. I wait in the kitchen for them to finish eating. Once they’re done I clean the table and begin washing the dishes.
“I’m going to bed,” Mr.Dursley announces after finishing his last episode of his show.
As he retires to his room, Dudley soon follows, Mrs.Dursley stays behind. After Mr.Dursley and Dudley are upstairs for good, Mrs.Dursley approaches me.
“Freak,” She calls.
I turn from wiping off the stove, “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs.Dursley scowls, “I will be going to bed now. Once you are done cleaning, and only once you are done. May you get food and go to your cupboard. And only because we installed that new automatic lock on your door.” She says.
“Yes, ma’am.” I answer as I nod my head.
She stands in place for a few more seconds, “You may only have a roll and one small slice of the roast. Only because you did a good job with my precious roses.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I respond.
As Mrs.Dursley turns to walk away I call out to her, “Mrs.Dursley,” She stops walking and huffs as she faces me. She raises an eyebrow expecting me to talk quickly.
I wring my hands together, Okay ask her quickly. “What?... What is my name?” I ask.
She seems taken aback by my question, “You stopped me just to ask me a stupid question of what your name is?” She spits, “I will not waste my time answering such a stupid question.” She walks away huffing with each step.
So I have a name? I will find out what it is one day. I must.
Once she is upstairs, I continue cleaning the kitchen until it is sparkling. After making sure the kitchen is fully clean, I open the fridge and pull out the roast I made for the Dursley's dinner. I place a thin slice of roast onto a napkin and grab a roll, before heading to my cupboard. Once I shut the door, it automatically locks shut.
“Hey, Manasa.” I call.
She crawls out from my pocket and curls up on my small blanket on the floor. “Hello, little speaker.” She greets.
I smile, “Here.” I hand her half of the roll and rip off half of the roast, giving it to her as well.
“Thank you little speaker. But… you are so small, you must eat this. I will be fine, I can hunt outside tomorrow .” Manasa hisses.
She uses her body to slide the food back into the napkin. My eyes tear, “Thank you, Manasa.” I say.
Manasa curls her body on a piece of my blanket. She begins to softly snore in hisses, going into a peaceful sleep. I watch her with a smile as I slowly eat the food on my napkin.
Once I finish my food, I lay on the floor and curl my body around Manasa. I pull the unused part of the blanket over me and lay my head on my arm. I stare at Manasa’s little tongue flickering out with each breath, slowly I drift off into sleep.