Dudley's Birthday
Harry Potter opened his eyes in a sudden move, his green eyes shining in the black space surrounding him. Something's wrong... His body feels different, strange. Too small and weak. Almost as if it wasn't his. His green eyes turned to the side focusing on the only light he could see. A few streaks of light. The cupboard under the stairs, he remembered. Which means... He exclaimed in pain, touching his head. It was splitting him at half, pulsating. After some long minutes the young boy managed to calm down enough to move around and find his glasses. He still feels odd in his own body, noticing the thinness and the rags that are his clothes, but it is his body and there's no reason to doubt it. He's in the body of his 10 years old self.
What happened? He wondered, trying to recall the last thing he could remember. The only things that came to his mind were glimpses of horrifying images of the bodies of many people. Children. Dark rooms. Weapons. Fire. It's too much, and he opened his eyes not wanting to see anymore. It's just a nightmare, the raven told to himself, feeling sick to his stomach. Just a nightmare.
Harry took a deep breath before approaching the door to his room blindly. There's no point on turning on the light. It's always open during mornings, a sign for him to prepare breakfast. Except when is a voice that wakes him up. When he touched the handle he heard a soft click. The door was closed before and it's open now. That's different. Harry swallowed nervously. Should he be worried that Uncle Vernon is in the other side, waiting for him to get out and hit him? It hadn't happened in such a long time that he forgot about that little detail. It was, if he remembers correctly, a fun activity his uncle did to show both him and his cousin, Dudley, about how little he matters. He was hit for every reason imaginable and it only stopped when he started school because a teacher was getting suspicious of them.
Shaking his head and ignoring his apprehension, the boy opened the door and took a step out. There was absolutely no one waiting for him. No uncle Vernon, no Dudley, and no Aunt Petunia. It was still dark outside, just a few rays of sun and the stars were out. Too early.
The green-eyed boy let out a sigh of relief. He decided that, since he's already awake and out of his room, it's better if he gets the food ready. The windows are closed, the binders are down. He could hear the birds already out and singing. He loves when they do that, liking the idea that they are singing to him. It's... sweet.
The mountain of presents went ignored.
It didn't take long for the rest of the inhabitants of the house to appear and getting ready for the day. The morning was quite, luckily for Harry who still could feel a mild ache in his head. They ate their respective food, talked to each other from time to time, and ignored Harry's presence. Not that he's complaining. That is, until the dreaded reminder of what day it was made the young wizard stifle a groan. Dudley's birthday -- how could he have forgotten? He always got gifts he never used or he ended up breaking. His cousin was never very appreciative of what he has. Not surprising considering who are his parents.
Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year." Harry wanted so much to roll his eyes and go back to his room. At least when he's there he's absolved from the drama.
"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," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, took some steps back with his plate in his hands.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "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 thought for a moment. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, and the young wizard mouthed the same words. Familiar and yet so different. He knows the answer but not because he can count better than Dudley.
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
Uncle Vernon chuckled.
"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's blonde hair.
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the first present. The raven had no desire to watch it any longer than he felt was necessary. That is, none. But then Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.
"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction. He wished just for a moment her neck was broken. The desire left as soon as it came, leaving behind emptiness.
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror. Every year on Dudley's birthday, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned. While his family, he mentally spat out the word as if it was poison, went to watch some movies or to a restaurant.
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking at Harry as though he'd planned this. The image of her broken neck became clear on his mind yet again.
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." So does he. He despises every family member of the Dursley. Hateful thoughts kept circling around his head, feeding his rage. He's never felt so intensely about them. He didn't care though. They deserve his hate.
"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?"
"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.
"You could just leave me here," Harry interrupted in hopes he could have some time to himself. His energy level is lower that expected and it was still morning. The idea of spending more of his time with people like them felt degradating.
Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.
"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled. They both know that's not true. Or is it...?
"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening anymore. It was a lie anyway.
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "...and leave him in the car..."
"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone."
They were interrupted again by Dudley's fake crying, and this time he couldn't help but really roll his eyes. They were ignoring him, fortunately.
Dudley's best friend was coming with them. Piers Polkiss is a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. The three of them were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had warned him about not using his freakishness. Not like he could control it.
The raven remained silent during the whole drive even when Dudley and Piers tried to get him in trouble.
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. There were too many people around him, making him very uncomfortable and reminding him of his nightmare. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. He went on his own to watch some of the animals. At some point, after lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark and oh so very familiar. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. A sense of deja vu. They went to see the largest snake in the place. A boa constrictor. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it's fast asleep.
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. He looks like a pig more than ever.
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. The sound of the glass was getting on Harry's nerves.
"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass again with his knuckles, but the snake stayed the same.
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He moved somewhere else.
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He's sure he has seen it before, same colors, same beady eyes staring back at him. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on Harry's level.
It winked.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too. How funny, he thought, I haven't felt so good in a long time.
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling.
"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, empathetic to the snakes suffering, "It must be really annoying."
The snake nodded vigorously. The young boy understands. Looking around again, he took a decision.
"Do you want to get out of here? Go to Brazil?" His intense green eyes didn't look far from the snake even with the deafening shout behind him, "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Harry was pushed back by a punch in the ribs. Piers and Dudley were leaning on the glass.
It's irritating, he finds, that some people feel so entitled to do what they want with no regards to others, whether they are humans or animals. No. They deserve to be treated as what they mistreat. It's only fair, he thinks with vindictive air. The glass front of the boa constrictor's tank vanished. With a smile, the raven watched as the boa started uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. His long scaly body glittered with the lights around them as it was searching for an exit. People throughout the reptile house screamed at seeing it and started running for the exits too.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry heard a hissing voice say, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo."
The boa managed to leave, which for some reason surprised him. It was later when Piears managed to tell the Dursley what actually happened. It was worth it though, remembering his faces of horror. He snickered to himself, already hidden in his dark room.
That night he dreamed of a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his scar. So real it felt that he woke up clutching the same spot.