The boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street. (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Page 65) Hagrid led him along the long, crowded streets of London.

As they walked, Harry found himself in slight shock, still not being able to completely comprehend all that had happened last night. His Mum and Dad- wizards. A whole new world that he never new existed and he belonged to it.

And all the time, his aunt and uncle had known, but had hidden it from him. Harry shook his head as he remembered all of the trouble Uncle Vernon had gone through to hide them on the island, away from the letters that would ruin the secret. Even after all that, Hagrid had still found them, for which Harry was very glad. He could only imagine how long Uncle Vernon would have made them stay there, with the only way off the island being the- being the-

“Boat,” Harry muttered with horror. He quickly glanced over his should, to where the harbour lay. He could barely make out the speck that was the boat. The boat, that just so happened to be the only way of transportation off the island. The Dursleys were stuck. And Harry was sure that the Dursleys would blame him for that when they all returned to Private Drive.

“Err, Hagrid?” Harry asked quietly as Hagrid marvelled about the ‘amazing Muggle contraptions’.

“Yeah?” Hagrid answered, grinning as he raised his eyebrows and pointed to a parking meter.

“We just took the boat from the island,” Harry said, voicing his realization out loud. “How are my aunt and uncle and cousin supposed to get off it?” Hagrid’s grin faded into a slight frown.

“Oh,” responded Hagrid, looking over his shoulder to the small speck of a boat. He fingered his pink umbrella slowly. “Stuck on an island-serves them right, after the way they treated you…” Harry tried to fight off a smile as the image of a panic Dudley with a pig’s tail popped up into his mind. He lost the fight with himself, and grinned briefly.

Hagrid sighed. “I guess I can’t just leave them there- wouldn’t look real good on me record.” He started pacing absentmindedly, giving the parking meter a pat as he walked by it. “And I can’t just send the boat back magically- too many Muggles around to see that…I could contact the Ministry… there must be some department about Muggles and wizard mix-ups…”

Harry felt another, wider, grin start to spread across his face. The Dursleys were stuck on an island, in the middle of nowhere, and had no way to get off it. He, on the other hand, was a wizard, and was about to set off on the greatest adventure of his life. Harry smiled in the bright sunshine, gazing at the almost clear sky.

Wait ‘till Dudley realises there’s no television out there.

*
“THAT GREAT BUMBLING BUFFOON!” Uncle Vernon’s voice broke through the misty morning. He barged into the small shack of which he and his family were staying in, anger all over his face.

“Vernon, honey, what on earth is the matter?” Petunia questioned, looking up from the table that she was scrubbing furiously. Dudley sat up on the couch slowly, just waking up.

“That- that- that Giant took our boat!” Vernon yelled, pointing furiously to the empty shoreline behind him, which was just visible behind his large bulk.

“Is that a bad thing?” asked Dudley stupidly, still half asleep. He rubbed his eyes and started searching for the cake he had eaten half of last night.

“Yes, son! It is a very bad thing, unless you have a phone with you to call someone on the shoreline!” Vernon boomed, his voice vibrating the windows of the small shack. He tore out of the shack, and started pacing across the small beach line present. The island they were stuck on was round and small, and waves were gently rolling onto the shoreline.

Dudley looked at himself for a second, and then looked at his father through the door. “I don’t have a phone, Dad,” he called out slowly.

“Of course you don’t have a phone! That’s why we have a problem!” Vernon shouted back. He kicked a couple of shells with his leather shoes, sending them flying across the sand. Aunt Petunia, who had walked to the door, backed up into the shack again. She decided it was best to stay out of her husband’s way for a while.

Dudley, having just found Harry’s birthday cake and eaten a fourth more of it, suddenly realised that it was around nine in the morning. He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Mum, where’s the television? My show should be on now…” He continued eating the chocolate cake, and searched the small shack for the telly. After a minute of finding nothing, he went up to Aunt Petunia and stared her, a worried expression on his chubby face. She looked anywhere but him, not wanting to let down her only child.

“Umm, Dippy Darlings, there is no, I mean-it is really that, well...” She wrung her hands nervously, trying to explain this gently to her tantrum prone eleven-year-old. She stared at the dirt floor, which was really starting to get on her nerves, because it was dirty. “There is no television here.”

Dudley’s eyes widened in disbelief, and they started moving around the room at lightning speed, trying to find the small box he spent so much time in front of.

“No- no telly?” He started swinging the cake package, now half empty, up and down.

“I’m sorry Dummpy Whummpy, but you can’t watch a show this morning,” she answered, looking at Dudley cautiously. She knew the signs of a fit when she saw them, so she added quickly, “When we get home, you can watch the telly for the rest of the day, how’s that?”

“No!” Dudley threw the cake box on the ground, and started pouting. “I want to watch the telly! Today! NOW!”

Vernon entered the shack at that moment, completely oblivious to the building tantrum he had just walked into. Excitement coloured his beefy face. “That’s it! I’ve found the way to get to shore.” He stepped around Dudley, who was now in full tantrum mode, screaming and throwing things. “We use smoke signals to get an airplane to land here, and then we fly to shore!”

“I want to watch the telly!” Dudley screamed, ignoring his father completely. He continued to chuck random objects he found at the walls.

“Wonderful idea, Vernon,” Aunt Petunia supported, clapping her hands as if she really thought it would work. In truth, she thought that was the worst idea her husband had ever come up with, yet she tried to be supportive, dodging the glass Dudley threw.

Petunia and Vernon grabbed the blanket from the couch, and then hurried outside, where the wind was blustering around.

“Give it here, and we’ll light fire to it!” shouted Vernon over the wind, taking the blanket. As Vernon struck a match, Dudley came out of the shack, having realised that no one was paying any attention to him. He stood next to his mother with a cross expression on his face.

“Got it!” Vernon set fire to the blanket, and watched proudly as bits of smoke began to rise from it. Suddenly, the wind blew a huge gust, and Petunia's pink flowered apron came loose and flew over to the roof of the shack. As she made to retrieve it, another gust blew, and the blanket, still on fire, was also carried over to the shack’s roof.

“Vernon!” screamed Petunia, looking panicked as smoke began to rise from their shack. Vernon made to retrieve the apron and blanket, but the roof burst into flames before he could get it.

“Darner-snaber-couldr-fuser-labgid!” bellowed Vernon, trying to avoid swearing in front of Dudley. He kicked more shells as the roof of the shack fell in. A plume of smoke was now issuing from the barely visible image of the shack. Well, at least there’s smoke, he thought sourly.

“The cake!” yelled Dudley, stomping his feet. “Now I have nothing to eat! Mum, Dad’s gone and set fire to the cake!”

“Is cake all you can think about?” Petunia asked angrily, throwing her hands into the air. “He just set fire to my apron for goodness sake!” She looked mournfully to the burning shack, where the flames had consumed her favourite apron.

Vernon stared at his family, shocked. “Do you two understand what has happened?” he asked slowly, not believing that they were mourning over cake and aprons.

They stared right back at him, wondering how he could dismiss the loss of their prized possessions. Dudley pointed to the shack with a podgy arm. “Yes, Dad. I wanted to eat the cake, and now it’s GONE!”

Vernon looked at him, grinding his jaw slowly and methodically. “Our shelter is on fire, Dudley! Forget the cake!”

“Yes, Dudley, forget the cake,” Petunia scolded, nodding her head. “It’s my apron we need to-”

“FORGET THE RUDDY APRON ASWELL!” bellowed Vernon, his face red with effort. He wiped away drops of sweat resting on his brow, and started pacing. No one said anything for a moment. Dudley was shocked- his father never yelled, unless it was at Harry. Petunia, on the other hand, was mourning for her apron. All was quiet, until-

SWISH!

All three Dursleys jumped, Petunia letting out a scream while Vernon swore loudly.

A white figure had descended upon the island, translucent and mist-like. It was in the shape of a bear, and while the Dursleys cowered in fear, it opened its mouth and spoke.

“We have been notified of your situation, and help has been dispatched,” the bear said in a smooth mans voice.

“What are you?” yelled Vernon nervously, trying to take control of the situation. The bear Patronus kept on talking.

“Please remain calm, while following these emergency procedures-”

“Where’s my rifle?” roared Vernon. Petunia and Dursley looked at him as if he was mad. “It’s a bear, isn’t it? I can shoot it!” he shouted, and rushed off to the now smouldering shack. He poked around the ashes for a bit, coming up with a half melted piece of metal.

The Patronus was still going on about how they were not to panic, as they had handled situations like this before.

“Take this you great oaf!” yelled Vernon, rushing the Patronus with the sharp metal. The metal gleamed in the sunlight peaking through the clouds. But as Vernon tried to hit the Patronus, it disappeared, having finished its speech.

With a loud crack, a young man in purple robes appeared a few feet away.

“Good God!” screamed Petunia, frightened by the man’s sudden appearance, grabbing Dudley and pulling him behind her.

But Vernon, oblivious to the arrival of the man, was still swinging at the air with the metal, yelling, “Take that! And that! And you can have some of that!”

The man in purple robes looked at the piece of metal in Vernon hands, then at the man’s wife and son.

“Err, Mr. Muggle, sir?”

Vernon stopped short, suddenly realising that there was no bear. He looked around. “But-but- the bear? What happened to th-?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Muggle, but I am Bill Cradler, from the department of Magical and Muggle Interactions and Accidents. I understand that you have no way to get to shore, so I’m to help you,” Bill interrupted him, looking rather excited at his mission.

Vernon jumped at Bill’s interruption, and backed up a few feet to where his family was. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. He did this several times, trying to compose himself. He finally managed to chock out, in a semi-rude voice, “And just how are you supposed to help us?”

Mr. Cradler waved his wand, and a rowboat appeared in the water, bobbing just on the break of the waves. He nodded to it. “Learned that spell the other day! Rather handy, actually. My friend, Arthur, showed it to me,” he exclaimed, looking at the boat fondly.

“A boat! Daddy, Mummy! A boat just appeared! We’re saved!” screamed Dudley, racing out to where to boat was bobbing gently. He grasped it in his podgy hands, and tried to get into it. His great bulk tipped the boat over, though, and he landed back into the water with a splash. Petunia ran to the waters edge, trying to coax Dudley to right-en the boat before trying to get back into it, seeing as he was trying to climb on top of the upside-down boat. Vernon ran after her, shouting encouragement to Dudley. Bill Cradler stood on the beach, looking quiet annoyed at the shouting and yelling that was going on.

“Please don’t do that, little boy,” Bill asked as Dudley began destroying the boat with his frantic hands. “Little boy!”

“Help me, help me!” Dudley squealed as the boat was reduced to square boards. “I can’t swim!”

Vernon gave a yelp and ran into the water to retrieve his son. He tripped half way into the water though, and fell on his face with a splash. Petunia uttered a scream, and started yelling to Dudley again.

“We gave you swimming lessons, remember? Make an ice-cream scooper with your hands!” she shouted from the shoreline.

“Ice cream! I want ice cream!” wailed Dudley, flailing about in the water. Vernon got up again, but fell back down at once.

“Oh! My ankle!” he moaned as he fell, clutching his foot.

Petunia stood frozen on the shoreline for a second, and then ran over to Mr. Cradler and shook his shoulders. “Save them! Save them!” she cried, clutching onto him. It seemed that all the panic and worry for her child and husband had momentarily dismissed the fact that Bill was a wizard, someone she had sworn to hate from day one.

“Very well, Mrs.!” Bill tucked in his chin, and gently detached Mrs. Dursley from himself. He took a deep breath, turned, and disappeared into thin air. Unfortunately, Petunia grabbed onto him at the last second to shake him again; she disappeared as well. Mr. Cradler reappeared in the water near Dudley, with a shocked Petunia, who fell over as soon as they re-appeared. Mr. Cradler, surprised and concerned, reached out to pull Petunia up from the water, which turned out to be shoulder depth after all, a depth at which one could still stand. As he reached for her arm though, something hit him from behind.

Dudley had catapulted himself onto the official, trying to use his back as a life preserver, still unaware that he could touch the ground.

“Help me!” he shrieked as his weight caused Bill’s knees to buckle. Bill was pushed under water, now by a hysterical Mrs. Dursley, who had also launched herself at Mr. Cradler in hopes of saving herself.

“Can’t-breath!” sputtered Mr. Cradler, gasping for breath as he re-surfaced, only to be grabbed by Dudley again. He reached for his wand to create another boat, in hopes that that would distract them, but was tackled again, this time by an enraged Mr. Dursley.

“Used the ‘M’ stuff on my wife, did you? I saw it! Don’t deny it!” he bellowed, shoving Bill under water again.

“Please-everyone-calm-down!” Bill sputtered in-between dunks, trying to get all of them off him.

“Save the children!” shouted Petunia, trying to hoist Dudley onto his back.

“Get his stick!” roared Vernon, grabbing the wand that Bill held above his head and attempting to break it.

“Save me! Can’t swim!” Dudley screamed over and over again, whacking the official with his flailing limbs.

*
Two hours and four rowboats later, Mr. Bill Cradler appeared back in his office, soaking wet, and covered in seaweed. Mr. Weasley, who had been anxiously waiting his return, stared at him, shocked.

“Merlin, Bill! What happened to you?” he asked, helping him to sit down in a chair.

Bill glared as the memory came back to him. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said in a controlled, calm voice. “The Muggles lost control of themselves, and then proceeded to attack me.” Arthur looked shattered.

“So they weren’t very friendly, then? No chance they might call for a chat?” he asked sadly.

“Arthur,” responded Bill slowly, wringing out his robes, “it was complete, and utter chaos.”