Entry Four
Right, Voldie, come get me. I’m waiting for you here at 4 Privet Drive. End it quickly because I think I’m going to go insane. Oh, and make sure you get those awful muggle relatives of mine first. I want to die happy.
I am so unbelieveably angry! I just want to start throwing curses around. Where’s your wand when you need it? Oh yeah, locked in the cupboard under the stairs that just happens to be your former bedroom. It is times like these that I wish the Cruciatus curse wasn’t an unforgiveable curse. Or that there was a restriction on performing magic outside of school. Why am I so angry you ask? Why do birds fly south for the winter? Why is the sky blue? Why do I have to endure the whole summer with the Dursleys? The day started brightly enough. The sun was streaming in through the window. A few birds happened to be gracing us with their heartfelt morning song. It being the weekend, a neighbour was mowing his lawn. I got up and ready, as is my wont, in time to go help with the breakfast as per usual, but when I go downstairs I get met with a frosty glare.
“You didn’t put the trash out last night.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Aunt Petunia, I don’t remember you asking me.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask you, you should remember to do it yourself you wretched freak. The garbage disposal men didn’t dispose of our garbage because it was not out and ready. Consequently, we have bags of filth littering our lovely garden. You are to take the bags to the dump, now!”
“But Aunt Petunia, it’s seven in the morning and the dump is a mile away.”
“If you want to continue living in this house you will obey orders.”
So what do I do? I do as I am told. The bags wreaked, it was truly foul. They contained all sorts of disgusting things; vegetable peelings, old cans, a piece of molding cake Dudley had finally deemed ready to chuck out of his room (into my doorway, I might add, I had to throw it into the bin myself). The Dursleys don’t know anything about Recycling, or Compost, so the bags were loaded. I carried the Dursleys’ disgusting rubbish all the way to the garbage depot, and guess what? The garbage disposal men are supposed to come tomorrow, not this morning. Oh, this is trivial to you is it? I’m blowing up over nothing? Yeah well, you try and take a whole heap of detritus a mile and lets see you look all happy and rosey. For Merlin’s sake, I have at least four mortal enemies, have been through a set of rigourous tests (with aid of friends), killed a basilisk, been near a werewolf (well, he’s my friend but that’s beside the point), have had an escapee from Azkaban after me (well, he’s my godfather but that’s also beside the point), done another set of rigourous tests (with less aid from friends), I’ve faced death several times in my life, from various different sources, and they expect me to take care of their trash.
To add insult to injury I wasn’t allowed to make up breakfast, or have any lunch, unless I completed all of my chores for the day, and when I did have lunch it consisted of some thin broth and stale bread, whilst Dudley, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia have dined on stew with dumplings. Even sitting there alone, in the kitchen, them all discussing the film they might go and see this evening, I could just feel their hatred oozing from the sitting room to where I sat. Dudley’s voice was raised as he categorically went through the films he didn’t want to see because of certain arcane and magical references. Oh the things I could do if I didn’t have a conscience, and a fear of getting expelled.
Entry Five
Another day, another entry, another plea for civilisation. I take consolation in the fact that it is now officially a new week. Just take it week by week, Harry, week by week. That’s what Lupin said in his letter last night, anyway. I was just drifting off to sleep when the medium sized tawny brown owl tapped at my window pane. I fed it and let it have a kip in Hedwig’s cage (she’s off sending a message to Ron). Lupin says he knows what I’m going through, and I suppose I should believe him, but it’s hard to sometimes. Sure, he’s a werewolf, he knows what it’s like to be shunned by society. But the Dursleys aren’t society, they’re something much, much worse. I know what it’s like to dread what you might become. I thought I was the heir of slytherin for a while, now that wasn’t nice. At least Lupin knows what he has to do to survive. I’m not saying I’ve had it worse than Lupin, but I don’t think he can quite know what I go through every summer with the Dursleys. I just want to be among my friends. I just want to know what is really happening. I just want to be as far away from the Dursleys as possible. Things are going okay so far in the Wizarding world, apparently. I have a feeling he’s saying that just to make me feel better, but I’ll pretend I believe him in my reply. I wish Ron would reply quickly. And where’s Hermione? Bet they’re swapping letters as I write.
Don’t really need to ask me how the Dursleys are, do you? They’re being their same spiteful selves, if you must know. Dudley even more so than usual. He attempted to dunk my head in the toilet this morning. How juvenile can you get? He hasn’t tried to do that since I started at Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia told me off for provoking Dudley into the act. Uncle Vernon was already at work. He leaves really early these days. They enjoyed their movie last night. I would have enjoyed them being out the whole evening too, if I hadn’t been locked in my room. I could do with a lock picking set. Or a sledge-hammer. Same result. Uncle Vernon has started looking at me, now. At least, this morning he did, as he stepped on my foot. It hurt quite a bit, but what’s a boy to do? Promise to get some flavourful deflating fudge from Fred and George next he sees them, to plant in the evil man’s food? Oh yes. Hang on, let me note that down. Oh, I already have. What do you know? This diary idea of Hermione’s was a great thought! I’ll have to apologise for refusing point blank to use it. Uncle Vernon insisted I do more housework today, so I polished his golf clubs, cleaned out the kitchen cupboards and pruned the hedge.
I don’t know why I have to stay here, I work harder than a house elf, and command half the respect! Maybe I can request Hermione campaign for me as part of SPEW? Dumbledore says its for my own good that I am with relatives, but why wouldn’t Voldemort strike here? If I were an evil dark lord I’d be jumping up and down for joy that my nemesis lived with a bunch of morons who couldn’t defend him if he were Merlin himself. What is it about the Dursleys that makes them good protection? They certainly don’t seem like they’re especially good at anything but whining and torturing me. It has to be something to do with Aunt Petunia, I think. I suppose Dumbledore will explain it all eventually, but I wish he’d do it sooner. I sometimes forget that Petunia was (is?) my mother’s sister. You’d think she’d have more compassion. Okay, so she hated her sister for being a witch, but by the sounds of it my grandparents were thrilled, so how did she turn out so bad? What is it that makes some people kind, considerate and open-minded, and others the complete opposite? I don’t think I’ll ever understand this world. Perhaps I’ll never have to. Right. I took a nice break to write this up, I’ve got to go shopping for all the groceries now. Oh well, it’ll alleviate the boredom if I have something to do.