The Cupboard Under The Stairs
“Up. –Get up! –Now!” Mrs Dursley orders as she banged on the cupboard door and unlocking it from the outside for me to do so before scurrying back into the kitchen. Her insistent banging had woken me up, and I had leant up in my bed in the broom cupboard under the stairs, turning the light on, rubbing my eyes in response. But it wasn’t until Dudley had followed that with obnoxiously running up and down the stairs above me, jumping hard on the steps directly above, causing dust and debris to fall over me that I was truly awake.
“Wake up, cousin! We’re going to the zoo!” Dudley shouts as he jumps. He was a great lump, a great bully and a great spoiled brat. I had no love for the Dursleys, my only living family I had been stuck with from a baby since my parent’s car crash. I was more a burden than anything to them, and they had stuck me in the broom cupboard ever since I had arrived.
When I pushed the door open and stood to get up Dudley pushed me back in and slammed the door in my face before racing into the kitchen. I rise back up rubbing my eyes and face before entering into the kitchen myself whilst hearing the glamouring over Dudley, their amazing and do-no-wrong son. Mrs Dursley’s face turned cold when she turned to me entering the room.
“Why don’t you just finishing cooking the breakfast and try not to burn anything.” She scorns as she ushers Dudley past me towards the living room, covering his eyes, where Mr Dursley sat at the dining table, where he had been reading the paper.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” I reply, taking the responsibility over the bacon and eggs that were finishing cooking in the pan, no doubt nearly all of it being Mr Dursleys, the bigger great lump.
“I want everything to be perfect for my Dudley’s special day.” Petunia glamours as she directs Dudley whilst I began plating their food.
“Hurry up! Bring my coffee, girl.” Mr Dursley demands.
“Yes, Uncle Vernon.” I reply.
“Aren’t they wonderful, darling?” Petunia says, no doubt after revealing the monstrous number of presents stacked in the living room for Dudley. I hear no immediate response of shock, happiness, or gratitude from him, simply a question after a short silence.
“How many are there?” He spits.
“36. Counted them myself.” Vernon happily conveys.
Dudley’s face instantly turns to fury. “36?! But last year, last year I had 37!” Dudley erupts, shouting whilst I poured the coffee at the table.
“But some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year’s.” Vernon points out.
“I don’t care how big they are!” Dudley argues.
“Oh, now, now, now. This is what we’re going to do: is that when we go out, we’re going to buy you two new presents. How’s that, pumpkin?” Petunia attempts to calm and reason, although the spoiled boy still seemed completely enraged at the present debacle. He was positively vile.
I was quite surprised that I was allowed to come to the zoo at all, that I wasn’t locked in the cupboard and left there until they returned. In fact, I didn’t believe it until I was ushered, albeit more pushed, out the door so Uncle Vernon could lock up. I would just try to keep my head down and enjoy myself quietly amongst them in this rare occurrence. As I was about to get into the back of the car following Dudley, the door slammed shut and an arm pulled be back a few steps. Uncle Vernon lowered himself and pointed his keys in my face.
“Any funny business, any at all, and you won’t have any meals for a week.” Uncle Vernon threatens. “Get in.” he adds, and I comply. Keeping quiet and my head down sounded like the best way forward.
The zoo had been as expected, completely directed by Dudley’s loathing manors and demands; I hadn’t had a moment to truly enjoy anything. Dudley dragged us all around the park, going from one animal to another, one place to the next, his curiosity never lasting long as soon as we got to an animal before it sparked for the next. Now, we were in the reptile house, and here I felt I could at least enjoy myself here without being dragged around. I could look at whatever I wanted within the building whilst they all walked about aimlessly. Although, I found the zoo to be a little sad. All these creatures, taken from their homes, or brought up here, through no choice of their own, I emphasised as well as sympathised. And now we were all gawking at them.
We were all stood at one of the first snakes in the reptile house and it lay there in its rather small enclosure, not moving, maybe sleeping. This clearing frustrated Dudley.
“Make it move.” He demands.
Uncle Vernon then knocks on the glass. “Move.” He pushes, as if the snake would understand, and if even if it could, as if it would move for them on demand.
“Move!” Dudley shouts as he slams his hand on the glass.
“He’s asleep!” I scorn in response, feeling bad for the snake.
“He’s boring.” Dudley huffs before he turns and walks off behind us towards the opposite enclosures, whilst Vernon and Petunia walk off looking at the enclosures along the building. I look back quickly to see where they had all walked off to and how far away they now were, before looking back to the resting snake in the enclosure.
“Sorry about him. He doesn’t understand what its like lying there day after day, watching people press their ugly faces in on you.” I apologise, and as I do the snake lifts his head from the rock it was resting on and looks towards me. Then, as I finish I swore the snake winked.
My mouth opened a little in disbelief. “Can you hear me?” I ask.
The snake lifts itself up more into the air as it appears to nod its head. “It’s just, I’ve never talked to a snake before. –Do you talk to people often?” I ponder and the snakes now shakes his head.
“You’re from Burma, aren’t you? Was it nice there? Do you miss your family?” I question, and now he turned his head to my right, pointing towards the sign at the side of his enclosure that read bred in captivity under his information.
“I see. –That’s me as well. I never knew my parents either.” I relate to the snake, the two of us looking back at each other. Now I really did empathise with the animals here, they were just like me in the broom cupboard, but I suppose even I got to come out my cage sometimes, they didn’t.
“Mummy, dad, come here! You won’t believe what this snake is doing!” Dudley cries running over to the enclosure and proceeds to bash me out the way, knocking me over hard to the ground without a care. He stands up on the railing and presses his hands to balance himself against the glass as he gawks at the snake. As I look back up from the ground, angered so much by Dudley, I stare at him with so much frustration; I was so tired of him. Suddenly, the glass he was leaning on disappeared, it threw his balance off completely and with worried cries he then fell into the enclosure with the snake with a splash as he lands in the small pond at the front. The snake then begins to slither up and over the railing, escaping its enclosure. It gathers its body in front of me, looking directly at me as I still laid on the floor in shock.
“Thanks.” The snake says in a slithering tone.
“Anytime.” I reply, still in utter disbelief.
I watch as it starts to slither away towards the entrance and exit of the reptile house. People begin to scream and shout, running around and away from the reptile escaping, but I just watched in amazement at the experience I’d just had, and a little happiness that the poor thing was now free, or at least for a while, like I had been today. Turning back around, I saw Dudley had now stood up within the enclosure to get out, but his hand stopped, pressed against glass. There was a slight moment where both of us saw this and wondered how on earth this had happened. The glass had vanished and now it was back, as if nothing had happened. Dudley began to panic, banging on the glass, calling out for his parents, who were rushing up the building on account of all the screams and shouting anyway.
“Mum! Mummy! Help me!” He cries from within as they come up to the enclosure. Petunia screams her head off at the sight of him encased within, while Vernon just looks utterly shocked.
“My darling boy! How did you get in there?! Is there a snake?! Who did this?” Petunia panics as she presses her hands on the glass while I laugh to myself, still watching it all unfurl from the ground. Dudley might not have had a great day at the zoo, but I did. Only then did I clock Uncle Vernon’s glare turn from the glass to me and my smile and laughs immediately vanished just like the glass had. Some much abuse came from Vernon and Petunia’s mouths on the way home, as well as at the zoo, blaming me for what happened to Dudley. But how could it have been me? It was completely unexplainable. When we arrived home, Vernon had me by my hair and was pulling me towards the broom cupboard.
“What happened?” He scorns.
“I swear, I don’t know! One minute the glass was there and then it was gone, it was like magic.” I convey for the millionth time, but of course I’m not believed, and Vernon opens the cupboard and shoves me inside, locking the door behind me.
“There’s no such thing as magic.” he spits, before slamming the vent, shutting off any natural light coming into the cupboard.
For a month I paid the price for the incident at the zoo, being treated worse than usual just as an excuse. It always bothered me, but I tried not to let it; I didn’t really know anything else. I had wondered how the glass had disappeared that day; I just couldn’t explain it. Nothing strange like that had ever happened before, and nor did it afterwards, which made me think perhaps it wasn’t me. However, after that following month, something strange did start to occur.
Dudley stood in front of the fireplace, posing for the camera as I walked into the living room. He was sporting his new school uniform and it looked ghastly. I dreaded the idea of wearing it as I watched his picture be taken.
“Smile! –Oh, wonderful! Vernon, just look at him, I can’t believe it. In just over a week, he’ll be off to Smeltings.” Petunia glamours after taking his picture.
“Caveat Smeltonia. Proudest moment of my life.” Vernon reminisces fondly.
“Will I have to wear something like that too?” I ask, wishing to go anywhere else but there if that was what I was to wear. The obnoxious red school suit, the long ridiculous socks, the straw hat, all of it was horrid.
“What? You? Go to Smeltings?” Petunia questions, as if I had made a joke. I hadn’t, and so I nodded. Both Vernon and Petunia laughed at the idea and so, of course Dudley joined in.
“Don’t be so stupid. You’re going to go to the state school, where you belong.” Petunia dismisses as she pushes past me, leading into the kitchen. “This is what you’ll going to be wearing, when I finish dyeing it.” She adds as I follow her towards a large bucket on top of the oven, where using tongs she holds up an old uniform. Notably Dudley’s old uniform.
“But that’s Dudley’s old uniform.” I protest.
“And so, what?” Petunia retorts.
“But I’m a girl. –And it’ll fit me like bits of old elephant skin.” I reason.
“Nonsense. Girls are perfectly capable of wearing trousers, especially these days. And it’ll fit you well enough.” Petunia scorns. “Now, go get the post. Go!” She spits. And that was the end of that. Old elephant skin it was. I was going to be the centre of a bully’s attention no doubt at school, but at least I didn’t have to wear Dudley’s new awful uniform I supposed as I walked for the post. Flicking through the letters and a postcard, I came to a curious letter, one that was addressed to me to my surprise. What was even more peculiar though was the address; it read: Miss Y/N Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I couldn’t really believe that it specifically said the cupboard under the stairs; no one knew I was kept under there; the Dursleys preferred no one knew I even existed. It astonished me completely and I was utterly intrigued. Who was this letter from? I walked back into the kitchen and handed Uncle Vernon the other letters, whilst holding and eyeing my own the whole time. Walking around the dining table, I couldn’t wait to open it, turning it over I saw some kind of emblem and the name Hogwarts, but just as I was about to open it, the bully Dudley snatched it from my hands.
“Dad, look! Harry’s got a letter!” Dudley screeches, waving my letter about before handing it over.
“Hey, give it back! It’s mine!” I protest rushing after Dudley, who now stood firmly next to his father, with Petunia now on his opposite side coming over in curiosity.
“Yours? Who’d be writing to you?” Vernon sniggers, before he then examines the letter. His expression remains plain, yet a little confused as to who exactly would bother writing me a letter, especially since the people I knew were already in this very room, but when he turns it over, I can see a sudden realisation fall over his face. He turns his head to Petunia who I now see has the same expression of begrudged realisation. Perhaps they knew who had sent this letter.
I eventually gathered they did. The Dursleys liked to keep any shred of happiness from me, or any shred of anything I could call my own, and so when they tore the letter up without even opening and looking at its contents, I knew this was nothing more than that, but why? What could possibly have been in that letter so distressing to them, that I couldn’t even read it? And I would never know, or so I thought. The following morning, more letters showed up through the letterbox; all addressed the same as the first: to me, Miss Y/N Potter, the Cupboard under the Stairs. Of course, I had to watch as Vernon ripped all three into pieces again. Not half an hour later, I heard a drill from my cupboard and saw he was drilling a wooden block across the mailbox, muttering about how we’d get no more mail through this letterbox, clearly referring to the multiple letters that had arrived for me. This continued though. The next morning, I was woken to find Petunia marching through the hall, cursing about my letters once more quite vigorously. Opening my cupboard a crack, I saw through the open front door Uncle Vernon outside the house shooing what appeared to be a large group of owls. These letters were becoming quite the strange occurrence. Next they were found in the eggs. Petunia screamed in the morning and all of us came into the kitchen to find out why and my letters had somehow been in every egg she had cracked to make Vernon and Dudley’s breakfast. Now it was really strange. That same evening, I went into the living room, hearing a sniggering from Vernon and wondered what he was up to, only to find him burning a stack of my letters that has obviously arrived that day. When he spotted me watching, he only smirked wider and continued sniggering as he threw the letters on the fire. Whoever was sending these letters clearly wanted me to read it, but the Dursley’s clearly didn’t want me to read them more.
“Fine day, Sunday. –In my opinion, best day of the week. Why is that, Dudley?” Vernon asks, intending to rub it in a little more as I handed out their lunchtime tea and biscuits. Dudley merely shrugs as he shoves his face with the treats.
“Because there’s no post on Sundays?” I answer, knowing that was exactly what he was thinking.
“Right you are, Y/N!” Vernon confirms happily as he takes a biscuit from the plate I was carrying. “No post on Sunday. –Ha! No blasted letters today! No, sir. Not one single bloody letter. Not one!” He glamours on triumphantly, whilst I notice another owl swoop by the window and walk over to peer out. As I draw the lace curtain aside, I see that the whole house was covered in owls. The lawn, the car, and I can only assume the house too. But only ours, not a single owl was on anyone else’s house. It was utterly peculiar, and it only made me want to read one of those letters all the more. “No, sir, not one blasted, miserable—,” Vernon continues but is suddenly hit by something cutting him off, and it sounded like a rush of paper. I turn quickly and see a letter on the floor. One of my letters. Then the fireplace begins to shake and the sound of rushing paper is momentarily heard again, but considerably louder, until letters erupt from the fireplace. More and more and more, spewing down the chimney, flying into the living room and soaring around the room. It was totally unexplainable, and it sent the Dursley’s into a panic of shouts, screams and cries, and although I couldn’t explain it, I didn’t care, I revelled in it. There was hundreds of letters pouring in and leapt into the sofa, jumping up to catch some of the flying letter all addressed to me. When I finally had one in my grasp, I stopped jumping.
“Give me that! Give me that letter!” Vernon shouts and I immediately leap over the sofa and run for my cupboard. Vernon isn’t far behind though and as I try to open the cupboard, he slams his hand against it, stopping me, before grabbing hold of me.
“Get off! They’re my letters! Let go of me!” I angrily cry as Vernon falls with me in his tight grasp, squeezed by his arms. The letters continue flying around the house as the wood over the letterbox breaks off and hundreds more letters spew through.
“That’s it! We’re going away! Far away, where they can’t find us!” Vernon screams, not relinquishing his hold on me one bit. As I struggled, I couldn’t help but think about who he was referring to. Where who couldn’t find us? What exactly was Hogwarts and why were the Dursley’s so against it?