Chapter 1
Breakfast with the Dursleys had never been a pleasant experience for Harry. The Dursleys were a family that even the most forgiving people would hold a grudge against. They were plain terrible.
No, breakfasts with them were never fun, and today was no different. Well no better at least, though it could, in some terms, be considered worse.
Vernon had been woken by Hedwig, Harry’s owl’s loud screeching in the early hours of the moring for the third time that week. He had been going on about it for what felt like hours, It was starting to give Harry a headache, not that he would mention it. If he did it would just give Vernon more fuel and he’d go on about how Hedwig was giving him a headache.
“If you can’t control it,” Vernon thundered on, bits of egg flying from his mouth, “Then it has to go.”
“She’s just bored,” Harry stated, annoyance edging his voice. He hated it when the people referred it Hedwig as ‘it’. Considering the type of people the Dursleys were, he knew it shouldn’t bother him, yet it still did, “if you let her outside at night…”
“I’m not stupid,” Vernon went on, yelling louder this time, if that was even possible, “I know what will happen if I let that owl out.”
He exchange dark look with Petunia, who glared at Harry before going back to her food. If he was hoping for support from Petunia, which he definitely wasn’t, he would have been disappointed.
Harry turned back to Vernon, and opened his mouth to continue arguing, “Nothing will happen…”
But his words were drowned out by Dudley, “I want more bacon.” He stated, somewhere between a whine and a command. Harry was mildly annoyed at this, but he was used to it and it would probably take Vernon’s mind off Hedwig.
Petunia, it seemed, didn’t hear the whine in his voice, or maybe she just didn’t care, believing Dudley could do no wrong, “There’s more in the frying pan, Sweetums.”
Harry, of course had gotten no bacon, and had toast and a partially burned egg, instead.
Getting slightly misty eyed Petunia continued, “We must feed you up while we’ve got the chance. I don’t like the sound of that school food.”
“Nonsense,” Vernon interjected, Harry was glad his focus had shifted of Hedwig, “I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings. Dudley get’s enough food don’t you, son?”
Petunia turned to her son to see if he was going to answer, when she realized he was too busy scarfing down food, she continued, “Of course there’s enough food,” Petunia said, slightly frazzled, “But it’s terrible quality. It could get him sick!” Petunia looked so concerned that Harry had to stifle a laugh, as if the food here was any better.
Vernon and Petunia continued to talk and slightly argue about the food at Smeltings, though neither he, nor Dudley continued listening. Dudley, instead, grinned hughley and turned to Harry, “Pass the frying pan.” He commanded, trying to sound superior, but only half succeeding.
“You’ve forgotten the magic word,” Muttered Harry, only half paying attention. The Dursleys, though, were paying complete attention.
All heads snapped to face him, the conversation instantly gone. The room had gotten so quiet that Harry could hear someone vacuuming in the house next door.
Dudley was starring at him in horror, his mouth bobbing up and down in an almost comical way. He reminding Harry of a peculiar type of fish. Petunia gasped and bolted up, knocking the table causing her plate to flip over, the contents flying everywhere.
Vernon who at first had stared at Harry with wide shocked eyes, was now glaring at him with an intensity that he rarely saw. It was a look of pure fury, a bit over the top if you asked Harry, which, he know, none of them would do.
“I meant ‘please’,” Harry explained quickly, trying to stop Vernon from exploding at him, though he didn’t think he was likely to succeed. Harry could have sworn he was smoke coming out of his uncles ears, “ I didn’t mean…”
“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SAYING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR HOUSE!” Vernon thundered so loudly that even Petunia cringed, having to cover her ears.
“But I…” Harry went on, maybe he could still get out of this.
“HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!” Threaten him? Of course his uncle was going to blow this way out of proportion.
Harry opened his mouth to dispute Dudley being threatened, but before he could say anything Vernon pounded the table with his meaty fist, causing the dishes to clink noisily.
Harry jolted in his seat, before stammering, “I just…”
“I WARNED YOU!” Vernon went on, a venomous glint in his already unhinged eyes, “I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTIONS OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!”
Abnormality, Harry almost scoffed at the word, but decided against it as it would only make the situation worse. The Dursleys had always treated the word ‘magic’ the same way the wizarding world treated the name ‘Voldemort’, as if just saying it was a curse.
Harry, who was about to continue arguing, hesitated, staring between his uncle whose face had gone a shade of purple, to his aunt who was so pale she looked as though she would faint at any second, but was still trying to haul Dudley to his feet.
“Alright. Alright.” Said Harry.
Uncle Vernon seemed satisfied with this because he stoped yelling and sat down, breathing hard. It didn’t stop him, though, from glaring at Harry in a way that pinned him to the spot, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to do a thing without Vernon noticing.
Ever since Harry had come home, he had been treated like bomb that would go off at any given minute. Of course this didn’t come without reason, Harry had never been a normal boy and it had always seemed to scare them. Last year, though, Harry had found out that he was as far from normal as one could be.
Harry was a wizard, and he had just come back from his first year at Hogwarts school of wizardry, though if either Harry or the Dursleys had their way, he wouldn’t have come back at all. As much as the Dursleys despised the magic world and hated that he was here, it was nothing compared to how much Harry wished he was still at Hogwarts.
Harry missed Hogwarts so much that it made his stomach ach. He missed castle and its secret rooms and passages and the ghosts flying through the halls, he missed his lessons (though maybe not Snapes potions class), he missed visiting the game keeper, Hagrid’s cabin on the grounds by the Forbidden Forest, he missed the owls delivering the post and the feasts in the banquet hall, he missed sleeping in his four poster bed in the dormitory, and he especially missed quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world. Harry was the seeker on the Gryffindor team and there was nothing he loved more.
As soon as Harry had gotten home uncle Vernon had taken his top of the line Nimbus 2000 broomstick, his spell books, his robes, and his cauldron and locked them in the cupboard under the stairs, that used to be Harry’s bedroom. The Dursleys, of course, didn’t care that Harry had homework to do over the break, or that he might loose his position on the quidditch team if he didn’t practice, and why should they care? What happened to Harry when he was at Hogwarts had nothing to do with them.
The Dursleys were what the wizarding world calls muggles, and to them it was deepest shame to have wizard in family. This was the main reason that they never told people about Harry and went out of their way to make sure people didn’t relate them to him. It was because of this shame that they had locked up his things and freaked at the mention of magic. It was also why they had locked Harry’s owl, Hedwig, is a cage that was much to small, and didn’t allow her to leave.
Although Harry was related to them, he and the Dursleys appearance was almost as different as their personalities. Vernon was a big, beefy man with a large face that was almost always a shade of red or purple. He had tidy black hair and tiny eyes near a huge bushy mustache. Dudley looked very similar to his father with his pink face and watery blue eyes, except his hair was blond instead of black. Petunia was thin and bony, with blond hair and pale eyes. Harry the other hand was small and skinny and had jet black hair that was perpetually untidy. He wore thin round glasses over brilliant bottle green eyes, and had a thin scar that looked like a bold of lightning covering nearly his entire forehead.
Growing up Harry had been told that it was from a car crash when his parents died, and he had never thought to question this. He knew now that the story was far from the truth and the scar was much more mysterious then that. It was the reason he had been left on the Dursleys doorstep so long ago.
When Harry was not even a year old, Voldemort, the greatest dark sorcerer in magical history had attacked Harry, and somehow he had survived. Both of Harry’s parents had died in the attack but for some reason Harry had survived with only the lightning scar to show for it. No body knew why, but for some reason when Voldemort had attacked Harry, he had lost his powers. It was one of the greatest mysteries of the wizarding world.
Last year, when he was at Hogwarts, he had been famous, seen as a hero, and constantly referred to as ‘The Boy Who Lived’. It was hard to believe he could go from that to being treated like some strange poisonous fungus by the Dursleys. The only thing that had been keeping him going since he got back, was the idea of returning to Hogwarts.
Today was Harry’s twelfth birthday, he kept expecting someone to bring it up, he knew he wouldn’t get an actual gift, in the past he had only ever gotten old socks or coathangers or something the Dursleys no longer wanted. Harry knew better then to expect them to care, but he at least thought they would acknowledge it, they always had before. But Harry knew a lot had changed and they were more focused on his magic then his age.
Vernon cleared his throat, getting the table’s attention, “Now, as we all know, today is a very important day.”
Harry stared in astonishment, he could hardly belive it! Maybe because he had magic now and could actually use it Vernon was scared of what would happen if he didn’t make a big deal.
“This could well be the day I make the biggest deal in my career.” Vernon continued, draining Harry’s excitement in an instant.
Harry went back to nibling at his toast. Of course Vernon had been talking about a stupid dinner party, the same one he had been going on about for last two weeks. Harry felt unbelievably foolish for thinking Vernon would care more about his birthday then some rich builder and his wife. Of course his precious drill making company came before Harry did.
“I think we should run through the schedule one more time.” Vernon continued, “We should all be in position at 8 o’clock. Petunia you will be…”
“In the lounge waiting to welcome them graciously to our home.” Said Petunia, placing her cutlery down beside her now empty plate.
“Good good. And Dudley?”
“I’ll be waiting at the door,” he responded, giving his father a sickly sweet smile, “May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Mason?”
“They’ll love him!” Swooned Petunia, pride filling her eyes.
“Excellent Dudley,” Vernon turned to Harry, a devilish glint in his eyes, “and you?”
“I’ll be in my bedroom making no noise and pretending I’m not there.”
“Exactly! I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks, At eight fifteen…” Vernon trailed off, waiting for someone else to finish.
“I’ll announce dinner.” Petunia continued for him, taking both her and Dudley’s dishes, though not before checking that he was done, and disposing of them in the sink.
“And Dudley you’ll say…”
“May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs Mason?” Dudley said, the he offered his arm with a practiced ease (probably from going over this half a million times).
“My perfect little gentleman!” Said Petunia, re-entering the dining room.
Vernon focused a glare on Harry, “And you?”
“I’ll be in my bedroom making no noise and pretending I’m not there.” Harry repeated for what felt like the hundredth time this week.
“Precisely.” He turned back to the rest of the family, “Now we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?”
“Vernon tells me your a wonderful golfer, Mr Mason…” Petunia said in a voice that almost sounded genuine, “Do tell me where you got that dress, Mrs Mason…”
“Perfect. Dudley?”
Dudley thought for a second, his brows drawn together, “How about: we had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr Mason, and I wrote about you”
How he managed to say this and sound genuine and not mocking was a mystery to Harry. It was so comical that Harry had to duck under the table to hide his laughter. Petunia on the other hand had never looked more proud.
“And you boy?” Vernon asked, a cruel smile plastered on his face.
Harry resurfaced above the table, fighting to keep a straight face, “I’ll be in my bedroom making no noise and pretending I’m not there.”
“Too right you will!” Replied Vernon, sounding all too jolly, “The Masons don’t know anything about you and it’s going to stay that way. When dinners over, you take Mrs Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I’ll bring the subject round to drills. With any luck, I’ll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. We’ll be shopping for a holiday home in Majorca this time tomorrow!”
This of course, sparked excitement from both Dudley and Petunia, who started grinning and talking quietly about what they would do when they went to Majorca.
Harry didn’t particularly care wether they got a holiday home in Majorca or not, as he didn’t think they would like him any better there.
“Right, I’m off into town to pick up the diner jackets for Dudley and me.” Vernon said as stood up from the table, “And you, you stay out of your aunts way while she’s cleaning.” He added shooting a glare at Harry.
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After Vernon had gone and Dudley had run of to meet friends, Harry was left to help Petunia with the breakfast dishes. It was one of the only chores that he had to do that wasn’t as a punishment. This was because if he was doing chores the Dursley would have to look at him and acknowledge that he existed, but he still had to do some so that Dudley would know he was the favorite (as if he didn’t already know that).
Harry grabbed the last couple dishes from the table and joined Petunia in the kitchen, she gave him a look that wasn’t quite a smile but was closer to one then Vernon had ever given him.
Harry fell into the usual rhythm of drying and stacking the dishes Petunia had washed. Harry knew this was supposed to be a chore, but he found he didn’t mind it. He didn’t have to put up with Vernon or Dudley and for the most part his aunt was quiet. The only sounds in the room were those of the clinking dishes and the running water.
Although at times Petunia could be way worse then Vernon, especially in relation to Dudley, at other times she could be almost human. You might think that was a good thing, but it was almost worse, Harry never knew what to expect from his aunt.
Petunia, without looking up from the plate she was cleaning, said sharply, “Harry this dinner is very important to your uncle. I don’t want you ruining it.”
“I won’t,” said Harry, he didn’t see any reason he would want to, “I’ll be in my bedroom…”
“Making no noise and pretending you don’t exist, yes I know” Petunia said, cutting him off, “But this is a make or break deal for the company, and not something he can afford to lose.” She finished the plate, giving it to Harry to dry, before starting on the next one.
“Okay,” said Harry irritation edging in his voice, “I’m not going to do anything.”
His aunt stared at him for a moment, as if trying to find a reason for him to lie, before sighing and saying, “I’ll finish this, you can go.”
Harry quickly left, slipping out the side door before Petunia changed her mind.
It was a beautiful day outside, but as Harry slumped down on the garden bench, thoughts of his forgot birthday floated to the front of his mind, “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.” He muttered tunelessly.
Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself. Not only had everyone forgotten his birthday, but he could think of a lousier way to spend it then in his room pretending not to exist. More then that, though, more then anything, Harry missed his friends. He hadn’t gotten a single letter from Ron, or Hermione, or for that matter, anyone he had met at Hogwarts. He was starting to wonder if they were actually his friends. He couldn’t think of any reason they wouldn’t have sent him any letters, other then they simply didn’t like him. It bugged him more that Ron had said he would ask Harry over for a visite this summer, it was something he had been looking forward to.
Harry slumped farther into the bench, maybe he could use an unlocking charm to free Hedwig to send her to Ron with a letter. But no, he could get in big trouble for using magic underage, it wasn’t worth the risk.
Though Harry was well aware that he couldn’t use magic at home, Dudley wasn’t. For the first couple days it had been fun to speak utter nonsense and watch Dudley absolutely freak out. He enjoyed getting free time without Dudley’s constant taunting. But the silence from his friends made him feel cut off, and it quickly lost it’s appeal.
Even Ron and Hermione had forgotten his birthday, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to send a card. At this point Harry was starting to think it could have all been a dream, he was desperate for a message from Hogwarts or any wizard, even Draco Malfoy his arch-nemesis, just to prove to him that it had been real.
Although Harry loved Hogwards and could hardly wait to go back, not everything about his year there had been pleasant. Just weeks ago, though it felt like much longer, Harry for the second time had come face to face with Lord Voldemort, and once again he had survived. This time though, he could actually remember it. It had been a terrifying experience and he had only barley escaped with his life. Harry hoped he wouldn’t have to do that again, though he was wouldn’t so sure.
Harry bolted upright, his previous thoughts forgotten. The hedge that he had been staring into, Harry now realized, was staring back.
Two huge green eyes, almost the same color of the leaves, were watching him as if he were the most interesting thing in the world. Harry found he couldn’t look away, for fear they would disappear, but he was sure he wasn’t imagining them.
Dudley's irritating voice floated across the lawn. Harry jumped to his feet, not breaking eye contact with the eyes in the hedge.
“I know what day it is.” Dudley sung, wadling over to where Harry stood.
The eyes vanished, as if they were never there.
“What?” Harry asked, still watching the place where they had been.
“I know what day it is.” Dudley repeated in a superior voice.
“Well done,” Harry congratulated him, still only half focusing on the conversation, “So you’ve finally learned the days of the week.”
Dudley laughed, Harry found that that was more irritating than his voice, “Today's your birthday.” he said matter of factly, “How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?” Harry couldn’t tell if Dudley was mocking him, or if he actually wanted to know.
“Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school.” As if Petunia would care, Dudley was perfect in her eyes.
Dudley hiked up his trousers and turned to look at the spot Harry had fixed his eyes on, “Why’re you staring at the hedge?”
Harry paused for a second knowing full well that he should just leave Dudley alone, “I’m trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire.”
Dudley's eyes widened in panic, and he stumbled a few steps backwards, “You c-can’t, dad told you you’re not to do m-magic,” he said, the fear clear in his voice, “He’ll chuck you out of the house, and you haven’t got any friends to take you…”
Harry pushed the belief that Dudley, for once, was right to the back of his mind, “Jiggery pokery,” he said in a confident voice, it was worth it to see the blood draining from Dudley’s face, “Hocus pocus, squiggly wiggly.”
“MUUUUUUUUUM!” Dudley screamed, tripped over feet in his dash to house, a look of pure terror etched onto his face, “MUUUUUM! He’s doing you know what!”
Petunia, although furious, could see that no real magic was done and no one was hurt. She didn’t implement any major punishments, and just made Harry do a bunch of chores, outside so they wouldn’t have to see him, and didn’t allow him food until he finished.
Dudley lolled around watching Harry while eating icecreams and other treats. Harry on the other hand spent all afternoon, washing the car, weeding the garden, raking leaves, mowing the lawn, washing the windows, sweeping the patio, and every other chore Petunia could think to make him do. It was almost unbearable to stay outside for so long, he wasn’t allowed a break until he was done, and the sun was scorching down on him, making him hot and miserable. Harry knew he shouldn’t have risen to the bait, but he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he didn’t have any friends.
Wish they could see the famous Harry Potter now, Harry thought bitterly as he bent over to manicure the flower beds. A dull ache was starting to form in his back and the sun seemed to be getting hotter with each minute.
It wasn’t until half past seven that Petunia called him, “Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!” Relived to be finally done with his chores, Harry quickly obeyed.
As soon as Harry stepped into the kitchen he was met with cool air, it felt like the most wonderful thing in the world after spending to much time under the roasting sun.
Sitting on the counter was a massive pudding with a lovely pattern of sugared violets and whipped cream, it looked like it had taken hours just to decorate. In the oven there was a joint of roast pork that smelt delectable, to bad Harry wouldn’t get any.
“Eat quickly!” Petunia commanded, setting two slices bread lump of cheese on table, “The Masons will be here soon!”
Petunia was wearing tiered salmon-pink cocktail dress, and had a light face of make up on, something that she rarely wore.
Harry did as he was asked, washing his hands and siting down to eat.
He finished quickly and as soon as he did his aunt whisked away the plate, “Upstairs! Hurry!” She told him, flapping her hands violently in the direction of the stairs.
“Yep,” Harry muttered as he left for his room.
When he passed living room Harry got a glimpse of Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets, in Harry’s opinion they looked rather ridiculous. Almost as soon as Harry got upstairs Harry heard the high pitched ding that was the doorbell, with it was Vernon’s furious face at the foot of the stairs.
“Remember, boy, “ His uncle told him sharply, “One sound…”
Harry nodded, then crossed the room on tiptoe, as to not be heard by the people bellow, before slip inside his room, closing door, and turning to collapse onto his bed.
Only, someone was already sitting on it.