Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Harry didn’t know where to go now that he had escaped the school. He couldn’t go back to Privet Drive and the February air was bitingly cold, he couldn’t stay outside either. He snuck along the empty streets aimlessly, with no destination in mind until he walked down the alleyway behind Little Whinging public library. The big red brick building was warm to the touch, they certainly had the heating cranked up to max in there. There was a window on the alleyway, moss crusting its edges and starting to creep further along the glass pane. Harry was cold and so was Hart he wanted desperately to be inside the building inside the little room he could see through the window. It was torturous for him, to be so close yet so far from it. Hugging Hart tightly to him, Harry scrunched his eyes shut and imagined being in the room, being warm and dry and safe. Suddenly, he felt an uncomfortable sensation near his belly button and then his stomach seemed to tie itself in terrible knots that made him want to immediately empty the contents of his stomach. Fortunately, when he opened his eyes and heaved, there was nothing for him to bring up. Then Harry looked around himself, he was in the room. “Pinch me Hart I think I’m dreaming.” he whispered quietly. The disgruntled snake narrowed his eyes and bit sharply at Harry’s arm.
“Not dreaming.” ascertained Hart as Harry muffled a yelp. “Not nice, what did you do to us?” he grumbled feeling as woozy as a snake could possibly feel.
“I have no idea.” said Harry spinning around his eyes wide in wonder.
The room Harry and Hart were in was warm and dry, both snake and boy glad to be out of the biting cold. Dusty sheets were draped over dark furniture like shapes. Tentatively, Harry reached out tugging on the edge of a sheet which cascaded down to his feet in a cloud of dust revealing a tall dark bookshelf. The books themselves were in a variety of colours and sizes, some were hardback, some bound in leather or cloth and some practically falling apart at the seams. But all were filled with untold knowledge and Harry had never been so thrilled. Excitedly Harry rushed around the room pulling down every sheet he saw until they puddled on the floor nearly completely covering it and creating a horrific tripping hazard. Hart hissed irritably as one fell over him, the little snake thrashed his way out. “Stop.” he hissed angrily, blinking rapidly at the dust that was floating in thick clouds tickling his reptilian nose. Hart cursed his species inability to sneeze as the dust particles settled in his nose. Harry halted his actions, a sheepish expression on his face. He hadn’t meant to upset his only friend but he was excited, this room was a miracle. Wait. A room meant a door. He swung around rapidly scanning the room until his eyesight landed on a dark door with peeling paint.
He tiptoed closer to it, eyeing it with trepidation. His little hand gripped the cold metal handle and gently turned it, his ears straining for signs of danger. It didn’t move far before refusing to turn further and the door did not swing open. It was locked. Harry exhaled with relief, practically deflating as the anxiety left his body. “Safe.” he whispered to Hart.
He looked around at the mess he had created and cringed. Slowly, his fingers still numb from cold, he began to neatly fold the dusty sheets into neat squares, setting them gently on top of one another in a slightly wobbly pile on the table in the corner. With a ragged sleeve he wiped away the dust from the table and shelves as best he could, going up on his tiptoes to reach as far as he could, which was not very far given his stunted growth. With the room as tidy as he could make it, Harry allowed himself to take in the truly drool worthy amount of books surrounding him. He trailed his little fingers along their spines, a giddy smile adorning his face. He came to a stop when his fingers met a woven cover of a hardback book. He eased it out from its place on the shelf.
“Tales of Beedle the Bard” he read aloud in wonder.
“What’s a bard?” hissed Hart. “Is it a big bird or a little bird. Big birds are bad, they eat you.” the snake said sagely. Harry eyed the book speculatively.
“It is a book of stories so I guess a story teller. I don’t think birds can write, their wings would get in the way.” Harry said with a shrug as he opened the book. Hart peered over his shoulder reading along with him. So they read Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot and The Tale of Three Brothers before they had to return to Privet Drive, the pair agreeing they had to come here as often as possible.
So they did.