A Dursleyish Disaster
Harry peeled open his eyes and glanced around. There was a soft snoring sound coming from the corner. He groped around and soon his hands closed around a pair of glasses, taped together in the middle. Harry quickly shoved them on and was in the process of going to his wardrobe to get changed when he realised he was already fully clothed. He glanced at the clock which indicated that it was early morning. He stepped across the room, careful to avoid the loose floorboard which creaked when stepped on, and reached out in the dark for the light switch,
“Arrrgghhh!” he yelped, as he toppled head first into the doorway.
The squashy thing which Harry had tripped over gave a cry of agony and writhed uncontrollably in its corner. Harry quickly withdrew his wand from his pocket and stumbled to his feet. Another shadowy figure stirred, sleepily taking in its surroundings.
“Ron! Oh, what are you doing, you idiot? Be quiet!” said the rather bushy haired girl as she untangled herself from one of Dudley’s old sleeping bags.
Harry fumbled for the light. Click. A vivid red-haired figure came into view, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. Ron had been lying in a second sleeping bag positioned roughly in the middle of the floor when Harry had tripped over him. Harry stared at them both, wondering how on earth they had come to be there. Almost immediately, as he looked at Hermione, the whole of last night’s events came flooding back. He remembered quite clearly that there had been a lot of throwing and dodging of china plates. In a few days time it would be Bill and Fleur’s wedding and the Dursley’s had certainly not been happy when Ron and Hermione had turned up on their doorstep, earlier yesterday, requesting to stay with Harry for a while until he was ready to leave for The Burrow. In fact, in keeping with the usual Dursley standards, they had completely overreacted. Afterwards though, they had calmed down slightly and Harry had scraped a compromise; that if Ron and Hermione could stay, they would never see Harry again after he left with them. That was enough to convince the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon had warned that ‘if there was any funny business, they’d be out in the blink of an eye’.
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled groggily, sweeping his hair out of his face.
He went over to his bed and collapsed on it rubbing his head where he had hit it from falling. He stuffed his wand back into his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione crossed the room silently and listened through the open door. Uncle Vernon gave a loud snoring grunt, and she quickly but steadily closed it.
“What were you two playing at?” Hermione whispered, glaring at them both, “if you’ve woken them up…”
“Don’t worry, they sleep like logs. I should know. I’ve had to put up with them for sixteen years!” Harry yawned.
Hermione seemed unconvinced and gave Harry a scathing look as she walked over to her own sleeping bag. Settling herself in with a rather loud tut, she muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘boys’.
“What happened?” she asked, staring suspiciously through heavy lidded eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Harry started, “I woke up and totally forgot you two were here. I was going to switch on my light and I tripped over Ron.”
Ron choked loudly at the mention of his name and sounded obviously winded. Hermione got grudgingly to her feet and walked over to him, giving him a sharp slap on the back. He stopped coughing and took a deep, shuddering breath, slumping in Hermione’s arms. Hermione let go in embarrassment and sank down beside Ron, rolling her eyes in reaction to Harry’s statement.
“Oh, come on Hermione, it’s not as if I did it on purpose!” Harry retorted.
Ron who had just regained his use of speech after having a choking fit rushed to Harry’s defence.
“Yeah Hermione, it was quite dark,” he croaked
Hermione sighed deeply, tying her hair into a loose bobble. She shook her head and buried her face in her hands.
“Yes but even so…” she said desperately, looking up at them, “Another stunt like that and we will be kicked out. We have to be more careful”.
“I suppose so,” muttered Harry.
“Yeah,” Ron agreed.
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It was the night before Harry’s birthday. Ron, Harry and Hermione were gathered around the Dursley kitchen table, having a whispered conversation.
“Harry, I know that you’ve not had your test, and you’ve not got your Apparation licence and -” Hermione stopped abruptly, “Ron,” she continued more delicately as this was a very touchy subject with Ron, “Ron, you didn’t pass yours, but still…”
Ron had turned very pale and stiff. His knuckles were white with the force he was using to clutch the table.
“I know Harry can do it, and Ron, if you put your mind to it, I thought we could Apparate to The Burrow,” she finished timidly.
Harry exchanged looks with Hermione. He was sure he was right in thinking that he and Hermione were sharing the same thoughts. Even if Ron did put his mind to it, Harry wasn’t sure Ron would succeed. Ron had only Apparated twice; the first time he had ended up at the wrong destination; the second time he had splinched half an eyebrow.
“Well…” Hermione continued nervously, “I thought the knight bus was too risky…” she trailed off.
Ron was looking down at his feet. Most of the colour had drained from his face as he opened his mouth in an apparent attempt to speak. Instead, he took a deep breath and resumed examining his shoelaces. Hermione glanced nervously at Harry.
“I’m sorry Ron. I knew you’d be uncomfortable with it. I shouldn’t have mentioned -” but she was cut short by a mumble from Ron.
“What?” asked Harry sympathetically.
“I said,” Ron looked up defiantly, “ok, let’s do it”.
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Harry was in an extremely good mood that evening as he packed his things. It wasn’t the fact that he would be setting off for The Burrow in just a few short hours so much as who he would be seeing there - Ginny! Harry shook himself for the umpteenth time that evening and decided there and then that he had to stop this. I broke up with Ginny last year because I was worried Voldemort would find out and use her to get to me. He told himself firmly. If I keep losing myself in my thoughts like this Voldemort’ll surely find out anyway.
He tried again to keep his thoughts about Ginny at a safe distance, but it was no use, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her flaming red hair, her cinnamon eyes…
NO! Stop it, he told himself. Just as he was getting ready for another battle inside his head, he heard Hermione’s voice nearby.
“Come on Harry. It’s time we were going.” she gestured.
“What, already?” Harry checked his watch and sure enough, they were already late.
He walked across the room and thought, wow, this is the last time I’m gonna see this place. I never thought I would miss Privet Drive. Absentmindedly, he attempted to pull Hedwig and his trunk from the room, when Hermione performed a complicated flick with her wand. Harry jumped with fright as they both vanished from his grip.
“We don’t want them bothering us while we’re on our way,” said Hermione simply.
She walked quickly from the room with her hair swishing merrily. As he followed her out onto the landing, Harry felt a strange sense of absence, like he’d forgotten something.
“Wait, Hermione,” Harry said stopping abruptly at the stairs, “Where’s Ron?”
“Well, he said he was going downstairs because he was a little hungry, so I suppose he’s down in the kitchen,” she stated the obvious, as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Harry followed her quietly through to the kitchen, being careful to make as little noise as possible and not to get on the wrong side of his aunt and uncle. He wondered silently what on earth he would say to the Dursley’s when he had departed for The Burrow. ‘Thank’s for having me?’ as if, he thought bitterly, what have I got to be thankful for?
He entered the kitchen shuffling his feet and yawned widely. Looking up and scanning the room in search of Ron, he found, strangely enough, that he was no where in sight. He shot Hermione a questioning look.
“Well he can’t have gone far, I wonder where he -” she frowned slightly as her question was cut short by a scream and a crash from the next room.
Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances and rushed out of the kitchen. Harry pulled out his wand and, pushing open the living room door, collided with a terrified Dudley. His cousin squeaked and eyed Harry’s wand apprehensively, backing against the wall to brace himself against an expected hex. Harry wasn’t surprised at Dudley’s reaction to his raised wand. Dudley had been terrified of magic ever since Hagrid had given him a pig’s tail on Harry’s eleventh birthday. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him and looked up to find a horror struck Hermione staring into the living room. Harry too looked up and gasped with mild amusement. The scene in front of them was a disaster, a Dursleyish disaster. The Coffee table looked as if it had been blasted aside with some of Aunt Petunia’s china broken (for the second time in three days). Ron’s trunk lay abandoned in the middle of the cream carpet. A ruffled Aunt Petunia was cowering in the corner. Her eyes were shining with horror. Harry had not seen her this terrified since he had informed her that his godfather was a convicted murderer. In another corner, Ron was drawn up to full height, towering over a clearly horrified Uncle Vernon. His wand was sticking painfully into Harry’s uncle’s throat. Ron looked beside himself with rage. Harry quickly rushed towards Ron dragging him back before he could do any serious damage.
“Ron, he’s not worth it, calm down,” He said, still keeping a firm grip on the struggling Ron who looked murderous.
“He…Deserves what’s…coming,” said Ron through gasps, trying relentlessly to escape from Harry’s grip. “He insulted…the things he was saying about…I’ll kill him”.
Harry wondered what on earth his uncle could have said to get Ron this worked up. He was now struggling to maintain his grip on Ron and was just about to ask Hermione for assistance when Ron suddenly stopped writhing and went limp.
Tentatively, Harry let go of Ron, who looked on the verge of attack again. Ron thought better of it and gritted his teeth menacingly before storming from the room and turning in the doorway before carrying on.
“Eat dung Dursley,” he spat and resumed his rampage.
They heard the front door slam and Harry turned to the Dursleys. There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence where all that could be heard was the slow ticking of the clock on the wall.
“Erm, Sorry about that…” he muttered.
Then it suddenly hit him. He was leaving forever and it was him apologising. Wasn’t it the Dursley’s who should be apologising? Hadn’t it been them who had been nasty to him all the time he had lived there, them who had ridiculed him, hated him and always treated him as if he were something dirty on their shoe? A new and powerful rage leapt up inside him.
“You know what, actually, I’m not sorry. Ron is right. You deserve it and I hope I never have the misfortune of putting up with you again,”
He too strolled out of the room. Hermione, quickly vanishing Ron’s trunk, followed suit.
“And good riddance!” he called over his shoulder, as he slammed the door behind him.