Chapter Two - A Stroll in the Park
SPLASH!
Harry awoke with a convulsive movement, slopping a wave of soapy water onto the walls and floor. His heart was pounding wildly, and not just because of the heat. Taking in his surroundings, a weak laugh finally escaped him. He’d fallen asleep in a variety of odd places over the years, but this had to be the first time he’d ever dozed off in a bathtub.
His heart was still racing. That stupid dream… it had seemed so real… Hermione and Ginny, honestly… where in the world had that come from? Yet, Harry had to admit it was definitely an improvement over the dreams he’d had all last year - maybe he really was normal, after all.
He hastily finished bathing, then made a half-hearted effort to mop up the huge puddle on the floor. At last, in a mere fraction of the time it had taken Dudley to lacerate his face with a razor, Harry had thrown on clean clothes (well, cleaner then the ones he’d had on, anyhow), rubbed a towel back and forth over his hair, tried to comb it, given up, and galloped down the stairs with wet black spikes sticking up all over his head.
His initial hope had been that Uncle Vernon, having arrived home with the car, would have proudly driven Dudley to his “ whatever “ and Aunt Petunia would have stayed behind, thus giving him the perfect opportunity to ambush her with all the questions he’d been bursting to ask her since last summer’s dementor attack. Consequently, it was with a numbing surge of disappointment that Harry entered the living room only to come face to face with the inert mass of Uncle Vernon, shoes off, lounging in front of the wide-screen television.
“Where’s Aunt Petunia?” demanded Harry.
Uncle Vernon grinned like a complacent rhinoceros. “Your Aunt’s gone to drop off Dudley in London,” he said, with a smirk very similar to Dudley’s. “What d’you think about that, eh? Pity you haven’t got…”
“Spare me,” Harry snapped. “I just thought I’d tell you I’m going… er… for a… walk.”
“Fine.” Uncle Vernon waved one beefy hand, his eyes back on the television. “Go.”
Harry didn’t move.
“Well?” growled Uncle Vernon.
“Aren’t you going to try to stop me?”
Uncle Vernon’s face turned a horrid shade of fuchsia. “WHY THE RUDDY HELL SHOULD I? GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, BOY!”
“Er… thanks,” said Harry, with all the false cheeriness he could muster, and he turned and strolled out the front door.
He took a few steps out into the quiet evening; the sun had completely set, and the street lamps were all aglow. Truth be told, he’d really had no desire to go for a walk, and now that he was standing out here on the front lawn, scalp prickling at the sensation of a cool breeze in his wet hair, he had no idea where he wanted to go. However, since going back indoors was now clearly out of the question, Harry picked up his feet and began to wander aimlessly down Privet Drive.
As he walked from street to street, he idly wondered if any of the Order were hiding nearby, watching him. The thought annoyed him. He was on the edge of wishing that something deliciously dangerous would happen to him… anything to get out of this dreary place…
In the distance, he heard a shriek.
Harry stopped still. He clapped his hand to his back pocket, where he’d habitually stuck his wand. A second voice joined the first “ a female voice “ crying out in panic. He held his breath, listening hard. Yes, both voices were definitely female. They seemed to belong to a pair of girls about his age “ and they were coming from the park on Magnolia Road.
Forgetting his own predicament, Harry held his wand at the ready “ he doubted he’d be able to do much without it “ and began to run in the direction of the park, his heart thumping. Had Dudley’s gang gone on a rampage without their leader? And why would they target a pair of helpless girls? Maybe he could convince them to pick on him instead…
The yells grew louder as Harry rounded the corner, and at last he saw the two shadowy figures responsible for the noise. As he stared at them in disbelief, he was immediately forced to correct a few fatal misconceptions.
For one thing, these two damsels looked anything but helpless. They were screaming, it was true “ but at each other.
There was barely enough light for Harry to distinguish one from the other. One girl, with wavy, light brown, almost blond hair, was wearing a bright pink hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans with flared bottoms that reminded Harry of an old television program he’d once seen, of screaming Muggle girls at a Beatles concert. Both the sweatshirt and the jeans fit her (Harry swallowed, trying not to stare) exceedingly well. She stood her ground confidently, feet apart, hands on her hips, and she was yelling in a loud, bossy voice:
“ “ so why don’t you just shut up and crawl back to your hole, you sniveling little crybaby, because you know he’s going to fall in love with me, and that’s all there is to it!”
Harry blinked. They were fighting over a boy? Irritated yet intrigued, he edged closer.
“Ooh, just listen to Little Miss Conceited, you think you’re so smart!” The second girl, who was wearing (to Harry’s astonishment) a white, flowered sundress and strappy white sandals, had spoken. Her voice was high and shrill, and she sounded as though she were beyond tears. She was also incredibly small, about the size of a ten-year-old. Her long auburn hair was pleated into several intricate braids “ and was that a white lily tucked behind one ear? She whined on, “You’re so stuck on yourself, haven’t you noticed he can’t stand you?”
The girl in pink snorted, in an oddly masculine way. “Oh, sure “ he can’t stand me “ I suppose that’s why he hangs around me all the time, and not you?”
“Yeah “ you smother him, that’s what you do!” squealed the tiny girl. “I’ve seen the way you smack him around, like he’s a little boy “ ”
“I do not smack him around! At least he listens to me “ he’s barely noticed you exist!”
“Oh, is that so? Then why is it that every time we’re in a room together, he’s always looking at me?”
“Ha! Looking at you, shrimp? Only in your imagination! You’re just part of the scenery!”
“At least I’m not a loudmouthed drama queen who demands everyone’s attention all the time!”
From behind a row of shrubs, Harry’s eyes followed their verbal blows back and forth like a tennis volley. He couldn’t quite make up his mind which of the two girls he found more repugnant.
“People naturally pay attention to me because I’m smart, and brave, and I know all the answers to everything,” declared the girl in pink, taking a step closer to her tiny rival. “Which is more than I can say for you. You’re a complete nobody. C’mon, when was the last time you ever did anything for him?”
“Ohhh!” The small girl’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe how “ how shallow you are! You really think it’s all about your brilliance? I have loved him more deeply, more passionately, more unselfishly than you could ever “ ”
"WHAT?" Pink threw back her head and laughed. “You call that love? Your silly, blushing, fawning idolatry? You’re the one who’s shallow! You’re nothing but a groupie!”
“You’re nothing but a stuck-up, self-absorbed, vain, conceited b“ ”
WHAM.
Harry jumped up in alarm. Pink’s fist had just collided with the side of Groupie’s face. She stood there triumphantly, her chest heaving, as the tiny figure in white crumpled at her feet. Spotting Harry in the bushes, she turned and smiled winsomely at him.
“That felt good.”
Harry stared. “What the “ ”
There was an earsplitting screech, like a cat whose tail had been trodden upon, and suddenly Groupie sprang to life, hurling herself on the unsuspecting Pink, hissing and clawing at her face with a set of shimmery fingernails. Pink screamed “ she seized Groupie’s wrists and flung the tiny girl over her shoulder in one impressive martial-arts sort of motion, which might have caused Harry to run for it then and there, had Groupie not been the approximate weight of a house-elf. Groupie smacked the ground, looking dazed; then, with a yowl of fury, she jumped up, yanked off one strappy white sandal and began to beat Pink mercilessly on the head with its pointy heel. Stumbling drunkenly, Pink seized two handfuls of Groupie’s plaited hair “
“STOP!” roared Harry, dashing toward them.
Miraculously, they stopped.
“Who are you?” snarled Pink, seemingly oblivious to the red scratch marks across her face and the curious pink dent in the middle of her forehead.
“Never mind who I am,” retorted Harry, “just stop fighting, all right?”
Groupie’s right eye widened (her left was swollen shut). “We weren’t fighting!”
“We were having a discussion!” insisted Pink.
“Discussion?” Harry was convinced they were barking mad. “You were trying to kill each other! Listen, whoever that bloke is, he’s not worth it, okay?”
Both girls simply stared at Harry as if he were speaking Yiddish.
“Of course, you wouldn’t understand,” sniffed Pink disdainfully.
“He’s not just any boy,” Groupie stated, her good eye wide and dewy.
“To capture his heart is the most worthy goal of all humankind,” proclaimed Pink, her chest heaving again.
“Our sole reason for existence,” chimed Groupie.
They both sighed together.
“Right.” Harry rolled his eyes in disbelieving disgust, giving up. “Well, just calm down, all right? I swear, I never met a bigger pair of nutters in my life “ ”
Mumbling thus, he turned to leave “ but a sudden squeal startled him. He spun around, mentally steeling himself to pull them apart. It was only Groupie, giggling loudly “ and pointing straight at him.
“Oooh, who does this high and mighty fellow think he is, eh? Some kind of hero or something?”
Pink said nothing, but gave Harry a long, steady, appraising look, which, for some reason, made him feel hot all over.
“Skinny little twig, isn’t he?” observed Groupie, as if her own figure came closer to resembling that of Madam Rosmerta than that of Winky.
“Yeah,” laughed Pink, still eyeing Harry critically, “no muscular development whatsoever “ ”
“ “ and what’s with that horrible haircut? Looks like some animal crawled up on his head and died “ ”
“ “ and his eyes are the wrong color, for goodness’ sake “ ”
“OH, SHUT UP!” Harry shouted, and they both jumped about a foot. “I don’t bloody CARE what you two twits think of me! Y’know, I really pity that poor fellow, having to put up with such a pair of hags “ you really think I’d be jealous “ well, guess what “ I am right bloody GLAD it isn’t ME!”
And before they could say anything else, Harry turned and ran. Behind him, he could hear muted echoes of “You’re so stupid!” and “Well, you’re just blind!” ringing through the streets, growing softer and softer until they blended right in with the hissing hosepipes and barking dogs. He kept running until he had reached the front doorstep of number four, Privet Drive.
Slipping inside as quietly as he could, Harry surveyed the situation quickly, as he always did upon entering. Aunt Petunia had returned. The television hummed and jabbered in the background, as usual, and a delicious smell was wafting out into the hall; he presumed they were about to have supper. Though his stomach immediately made itself heard, Harry had no desire to join them. He silently trudged up the stairs, his heart still thudding, his head full of the bizarre fight he had just witnessed.
His sweaty T-shirt clung to him unpleasantly, but he didn’t care. Seizing a quill and some parchment from the desk, he flung himself upon his bed and began to write.