Coincidences (?)
June 23rd: Dudley’s birthday
She’d known this for years yet somehow forgot to set her alarm the night before; so instead of the shrieking buzzing sound to wake her up, she got the shrieking screams of her Aunt Petunia.
“Up! Get up now!”
Funnily enough, this was one of the gentler awakenings she had received over the past 10 years - the Dursleys were obviously preoccupied with letting down their “precious boy” on his day.
Her dream last night consisted of flying across the midnight sky on a black motorbike which seemed familiar - upon reminiscing it would give her a strange sense of deja-vu
Beatrice quickly hurried to her dresser and picked out whatever was on top - which turned out to be a flowery summer dress. Next, she gracefully tied her messy, maroon hair with a red ribbon (if she didn’t look presentable, who knew what could happen) and put on a new pair of fluffy socks to accompany her along her journey down the stairs to a cacophony of discord and chaos.
Her bedroom could be much worse; she could only imagine living inside of the spider-infested cupboard so the smallest bedroom was a bonus of sorts! She could cope with only a bed, a mirror and a dresser - it was all that she needed.
As she went downstairs, the smell of bacon danced across the air from the kitchen to the hallway. Bacon had always been one of Dudley’s favourite foods: streaky bacon cooked on medium heat until it was just edible to eat. Personally she never got the appeal, it just tasted of smoke, but food being given to her was scarce - her health was seconded to her appearance - and so any form of sustenance was good enough.
Down the hall was the usually elegant and neat table buried top to bottom in Dudley’s presents! From the looks of it, he had gotten what he wished for : a new computer, another television (because when was one enough), and a racing bike. Dudley Dursley was the … stout kind who rarely got out of the house (besides from going to a friend’s house in order to do the exact same thing that he would do at home), so maybe that want could do him so good - it was different from the other kind of items which usually piqued his interest.
That being said, he did do some form of exercise in school: chasing Beatrice down in order to humiliate her even though most classmates disliked her for being “too put together” and “too pretty”(whatever that means). The likelihood of her being caught though was significantly low. Beatrice had always been a fast runner, and she had a knack for getting onto school buildings without even knowing how (which was always a fun conversation at parent-teacher night) . Soon, however,she would be leaving primary school behind, and Dudley: going to an all-girls school has some benefits.
Beatrice Potter was a girl of a slim build - which was enforced by her aunt in the form of almost-starvation -, round glasses, black hair, and bright green eyes. Her hair was one of her most hated features; she hated the way it curled, the way it would always look a mess in the morning and the way it sat atop her head like a mop for dirt and grease. However, its wild nature almost reminded her of herself - it felt like a reflection of her personality she wasn’t allowed to show - this was one of the features she loved. No matter how tame she looked, her hair would always be an expression of her true self - trapped in an image of perfection.
Behind her bangs, was a lightning-shaped scar. She considered it to be a hidden gem whilst her relatives considered it a sort of infernal mark which would taint and taunt her for her whole life. It was one of her proudest achievements, even if it was the result of an accident, and she believed that it was part of what defined her, as her. The scar was part of her, so why shouldn’t she accept it? Apparently it was from “the car-crash when [her] parents died” , but she still thought it cool nonetheless!
The question of the origins of the scar led to the no asking questions rule which haunted the house and kept it silent.
Beatrice decided to sit down on the sofa, unaware of what to do with herself.
“Look after the bacon, and don’t you dare let it burn.” Snapped Aunt Petunia from the kitchen. Naturally, she followed the order as she wouldn’t dare to upset her Aunt on the day of her beloved son’s birthday.
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Finally, she could hear Uncle Vernon thumping down the stairs and claiming his spot at the armchair with a loud poof! They rarely talked to one-another so her morning greeting was given a grunt of annoyance (as per usual). For some reason Beatrice was under the impression that her Uncle was worried about her - not for her but about her, like she would turn out to be an uncle-murdering convict one day. Then again, he did seem to have no problem in bossing her about on a daily basis: “Cut your hair!” “Dress into something more appropriate for the occasion!” Yada. Yada. Yada. She must have had around 50 haircuts this year alone, yet somehow her hair would always grow back to its original state when she didn’t want it to be cut. While she did like her hair short from time-to-time, she would never actively choose it in most months.
By the time Dudley had graced them with his presence, Beatrice was already onto frying some eggs. Dudley had a large, pink face, with watery blue eyes - similar to Uncle Vernon - yet he had inherited his mother’s thick, blonde hair. Aunt Petunia would often refer to him as a ‘baby angel’, but Beatrice couldn’t see the resemblance.
Once she had finished with the eggs, she served the food to her family in the limited space which was left on the table. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be going through all five stages of grief at once - his face had turned red and Beatrice could’ve sworn that there was smoke coming out of his ears.
“Thirty-six…” he said, looking up at his mother and father with a face full of disappointment, shock, and horror. “That’s two less than last year!”
“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.”
“All right, thirty-seven then,” replied Dudley. Everyone in the room knew what was about to happen: another huge Dudley tantrum coming on. In cases like this it was best to do whatever you wanted to do quickly, then leave the room and don’t return for about 3 hours. Unfortunately for Beatrice, if she tried to leave she would likely be tackled down to the floor and chained to the table since everybody had to be in the room for ‘Dudley’s special morning’. And so she swallowed down the hope of savouring the meal and chowed it down as fast as she could form that moment.
However, Aunt Petunia found a solution to this problem - erasing any possibility of danger with a simple:
“And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?”
Dudley appeared to be thinking, his face seemed strained and could only be described as a constipated rabbit. After what felt like years, he could form a reply “So I’ll have thirty… thirty…”
“Thirty-nine, sweetums” announced Aunt Petunia.
“Oh…” Dudley quickly moved on to grabbing the nearest parcel and beginning the sequence of opening presents and posing for a photo to show how happy he was. “All right then.”
This gained a chuckle from Uncle Vernon.
“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley!” As he ran his hands through Dudley’s hair.
Amongst the now quiet room, the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it - leaving Beatrice and Uncle Vernon to watch Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, etc. During his unravelling of a gold wristwatch, Aunt Petunia returned with a look of frustration and anger.
“Bad news, Vernon” she said miserably. “Mrs Figg has broken her leg. She can’t take the girl.” She jerked her head towards Beatrice’s direction.
Dudley’s mouth dropped to the floor in terror, but Beatrice’s dropped in annoyance. She hated Dudley’s friends more than anyone and this once a year treat was meant to be a day for her (and Mrs Figg) to enjoy the large absence of three very disturbing people. Now, however, she must endeavour down to the zoo where she will be bombarded with questions and avaricious family members with their weird friends. No thanks. She prefers the cabbage-stinking house with the crazy cat lady. She has to wait another year to escape the madness of that house.
“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.
“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl.”
She could never be placed to the Dursleys’ level of importance - oh no! The mere thought of her was spitefully spat out like she was some kind of rat who they couldn’t kill off.
“What about what’s-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?”
“On holiday in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia
“You could, maybe, just leave me here,” Beatrice hopefully piped in. Maybe her day couldn’t be ruined afterall!
Aunt Petunia immediately turned white as a sheet.
“And come back and find the house in ruins?” She snarled.
“I won’t blow up the house,” said Beatrice to deaf ears.
“I suppose we could take her to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly “… and leave her in the car..”
“That car’s new, she’s not sitting in it alone…”
Dudley, once again, started to throw a second tantrum - wailing in order to get his way with his family. Of course, Aunt Petunia immediately went to console him, afterall “Mummy won’t let her spoil [his] special day!”
“I….don’t…want…her….t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between his fake sobs. “She always sp-spoils everything!” Between the creases of his mother’s soothing hands, he shot Beatrice a cheeky grin.
Amidst all that, the doorbell rang: Dudley’s best friend. This triggered a frantic rush to calm down the playing scenario - not to ruin the guise of excellence and exuberance they had worked so hard to build. Seconds later, Piers Polkiss waltzed in with his mother. He was usually the one who restricted the movement of Dudley’s victims - holding them down whilst Dudley shot punch after punch.
Beatrice simply could not believe her luck. She was sitting in the back of the Dursley’s car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo, where she could witness animals which weren’t commonly found in the garden or with family for the first time. Uncle Vernon couldn’t let her go without a warning first though - talking about “no funny business” whilst they were there. She knew that she wouldn’t do anything, yet her Uncle didn’t believe her. No one ever did. She was alone in this life. Stuck with a life where nothing would ever be done to help her break free from the constant bickering and nagging she would always receive. The coincidences didn’t help her case either. An abnormally large second-hand jumper from your cousin shrinking upon forcefully trying to be put on until it could only be the glove of a doll? A common occurrence. She couldn’t explain why things like that would happen every so often, but they tended to assist her in some way or the other.
Nothing was going wrong today! Nothing could go wrong (lest they face the wrath of Dudley Dursley). Beatrice would be on her best behaviour from then, she couldn’t risk being punished so close to her birthday.
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While Uncle Vernon drove, he resorted to complaining to his wife about the usual stuff: work, Beatrice, clients, Beatrice, traffic and Beatrice just to name a few. This only made the journey more awkward. He saw a motorbike overtake them and went off on a rant about hooliganism. The time had come for the tension to be cut through with the stories of Beatrice.
No.
She couldn’t take the chance.
Her talking at all was… frowned upon, to say the least. She was safe as long as Piers was in the car, Uncle Vernon couldn’t lose his temper over a silly dream around other people, but afterwards? Nobody would be there to stop him from administering some form of sadistic punishment. ‘Witty’ remarks were from the cartoons that she was allowed to watch, according to her Aunt and Uncle. Television media was taboo for her to watch - it was bugged and would give her destructive ideas.
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It was a very sunny afternoon with the zoo full of people and noisy children. The Dursleys’ bought Dursley and his friend ginormous chocolate ice-creams - then just because the nice lady at the van asked if Beatrice would want one, they bought her a cheap lemon ice-lolly. Honestly, she didn’t find it too bad; it was a bit bland but besides that it was nice and refreshing for the hot summer day.
She continued to lick it, absorbing every touch of sweetness into her taste buds, as they walked past a gorilla scratching its head - being remarkably similar to Dudley just a few hours before.
Beatrice was thoroughly enjoying the day out, she was trying to stay a few steps behind her family - in case the boys got bored and turned on her. Lunch time quickly came around , so they sat in the zoo restaurant and then Dudley had a third tantrum due to his knickerbocker glory not being “big enough” so that was given to Beatrice and Dudley got an extra large dessert for the extra special day.
With the amount of treats she’d been allowed to have, she knew that something was bound to happen - which would unfortunately cause a stir-up.
After the meal they went to the reptile house. It was a dark room with vines painted across the walls and lit windows. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over their respective enclosures. None of the small snakes were enough for the two boys; they had to see the poisonous, killer snakes. Quickly, Dudley found the largest snake in the room - the boa constrictor of Brazil. This snake had the power to grind cars and people into dust, yet it just slept in its cage - unwilling to give people the satisfaction of seeing it.
Dudley stood with his nose and hands pressed against the glass, glaring at its lustrous scales.
“Make it move!” He whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped the glass, but nothing happened.
“Do it again!” and so he knocked on the previously pristine glass with his tarnished fists. This was the last straw for Dudley’s patience, so he moved on to one of the more active serpents.
Whether it was because of it being caged or being an attraction, Beatrice found solace in the snake. She glided towards it and intently looked at it. It must have been so bored and lonely behind its glass walls: the only company being obtrusive and stupid people, pitter-pattering their crumby fingers along the glass - trying to trigger a reaction in order to appease themselves. It could never get a moment of peace - trapped by people who shouldn’t even be within its presence. Separated from her own species. An existence cruller than hers, who would’ve guessed? Whilst she was too trapped, at least her jail was bigger. Whilst she was too on show, at least she got moments where she could be alone.
Suddenly, the snake came alive - slowly raising its beady eyes to meet with Beatrice’s .
It winked.
She stared in awe. Looking around her she could tell that nobody else witnessed the interaction. She winked back.
The boa constrictor jerked its head towards the direction of Dudley and Uncle Vernon, appearing to be rolling its eyes - giving a look of familiarity and trust.
“You must get that all the time,” Beatrice whispered through the glass. “I’m sorry. I know what that’s like.” If anybody heard this, she would likely be sent to a mental asylum. Talking to snakes must be uncommon, assuming that it could in-fact hear her. The vigorous nod it gave confirmed her beliefs.
“Was it nice over in Brazil?” She pondered. The snake jabbed its tail towards the sign: This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh… I can’t imagine how that must feel, I would hate to have never seen where I came fro-”
“DUDLEY! MR DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!” Piers interrupted the harmonious moment and Dudley charged towards the glass in order to see the snake in action - punching Beatrice in the ribs as a bonus, knocking her down to the cool concrete floor out of surprise from the unexpected action. A lingering feeling of hatred overcame every inch of her being - how dare they treat the snake that way? In the blink of an eye, the glass separating the boys and reptile… vanished.
The boys switched from being up against the tank to shrieking from fear of their lives - leaping back into safety. The magnificent serpent slithered out onto the floor and hissed a “thank you” towards Beatrice.
The reptile house’s keeper seemed even more shocked - questioning where the glass had gone and if it even existed in the first place
The zoo director himself even came down to personally apologise and offer tea to Aunt Petunia whilst the two boys shook in disbelief and terror - even though the snake didn’t do anything to them and, without making a fuss, left the room (perhaps Dudley could learn something from it).
By the time they had returned to the car, the infamous snake attack story had been warped into acts of aggression, where Dudley and Piers had to fight for their lives as it coiled around their legs - claiming them as its prey.
A few minutes into the drive, Piers had calmed down enough to point out that Beatrice was talking to the snake before the incident.
All eyes were on her.
The Dursleys wouldn’t say anything until Piers was gone - she had that long to get her affairs in order.
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When they got back, Beatrice was sent to her room and locked in there.
Her illustrative thoughts were the only thing keeping her grounded in the confines of her walls; darkness coated every corner in a sickening dread.
Every good memory of the day will now be replaced with how she ruined it and unleashed a deadly snake onto the still-traumatised Dudley.
Beatrice lay on her bed, doubts swarming her head.
She knew it was too good to be true.