Taking After the Wrong Wizard

Taking After the Wrong Wizard

The rhythmic clickety-clank of the wheels on the track made Harry drowsy. It was hard to believe that just a matter of days earlier, he was hiding from his family in a cramped cupboard under the stairs. Listening to screams and banging on the walls were the sounds of his youth. Now, he is lounging on a comfy cushioned seat heading towards his new home and bright future.

As the train lulled him into a deep unconsciousness, Harry started to replay memories from his past eleven years with the Dursley’s. The most vivid of these was Dudley’s ninth birthday. That night had plagued Harry’s nightmares ever since it occurred.

The events unfolded in Harry’s mind in meticulous detail. He leaned over the sink “Grab the plates with your left hand and wash with your right. Clock wise boy,” he could hear his Aunt Petunia’s harpings in his head. Many an evening he practiced washing the dishes to her specifications. Harry feared the reprimand he’d receive for them not being done correctly. Have to remember plates, then glasses, and silverware is last he told himself over and over again. Suddenly his bumbling cousin Dudley came bouncing in with a set of dinning ware that Harry had missed, “ Wait till Mum sees you dicking around with the dishes. You didn’t even collect them all. You’re quite foul git you know that. Doing whatever you want making us have to clean up after you. Bloody selfish if you ask me.” Harry knew not to reply he would be punished for talking back especially if he chose to do it on his cousin’s birthday.

Then Dudley threw the dishes into the sink breaking the plate in the process. The sound of shattered china brought Aunt Petunia speeding into the room and into an immediate stop. “My priceless antique gold filigree dinning ware!” Mrs. Dursley’s face was as red as a stop sign and the vein in her neck was pulsating, “How could you? What do you have to say for yourself boy?”

Dudley’s croaked smile melted into the meekest dismay as he turned to his mother, “Mum, it was terrible. Harry grabbed the plate out of my hand and hollered absentees at me. I was only trying to help. I kindly pointed out that he forgot them. When he through the plate and broke it, he threatened to shove a pieces of it up my ‘ass’. Mum please don’t let him hurt me,” Dudley sniveled as he darted behind his mother’s lacy evening dress.

Swiftly Mrs. Dursley Back hand smacked Harry across the cheek, “How dare you try to lay a finger on my little Dudlley-kins. Go to your cupboard! There will be no dinner for you. And to think I was going to let you have Dudley’s left over piece of cake. Just wait till my husband gets home then you’ll really get your punishment.” Harry quickly rushed to his cupboard to await his fate.

A matter of minutes later his uncle Vernon came stomping through the front door. “Pertuna!”

Mrs. Dursley toddled in replying back,” Where have you been? Dinner is cold and Dudley has been waiting to open his presents.”

Staggering a bit Mr. Dursley slammed the door and tossed in briefcase and himself on the large flowered couch, “Bert in sales took me out for a pint or two. Pertuna, that fucking bastard Johnson stole my drill account.”

Mrs. Dursley raced out of the room to fetch a glass of Chardonnay. “Oh my poor dear, have a drink. Shall I get your cigars?” Mr. Dursley nodded and she was off.

When Mrs. Dursley returned she was gripping an ornate cigar box, silver lighter, a pair of old navy blue slippers. Vernon looked around bewildered, “Where’s the boy? This is his job. Go get him I need to let off a little steam.”

As Mr. Dursley lit his cigar, Mrs. Dursley delicately sat down beside her husband, “My love, I sent him to bed. He threatened bodily harm to our little Dudley. I told him he would be punished when you got home.”

As if Christmas had come early, Uncle Vernon hopped off the couch and in one fluid movement was at the cupboard door flinging it open. “Get out here now boy. You need another lesson in manners.” He grabbed Harry by the arm and fiercely dragged him out of the cupboard. Lifting the back of his shirt with one hand he exposes Harry’s slightly yellowed bruised back. “It’s been too long since the last time has it boy. You can’t seem to stay in line and behave. Always acting out. We’ll see if this will teach you.” Uncle Vernon shifted Harry to one side and grasped the cigar and firmly pressed it into Harry’s back. He whaled in agony as Mr. Dursley pressed down harder on the cigar. Mrs. Dursley could smell the charring flesh and chose to go back in the living room. Harry tried to pull away but he was pinned between the wall and his uncle’s great mass of a body. “No! You’ll learn your place if it’s the last thing you do. Woman, get me another cigar.”

Suddenly the train jerked, jostling Harry awake. His new acquaintance, a scruffy red head named Ron piped up, “You ok mate? You were Moaning in your sleep.” Harry slid up in his seat and defensively replied, “What’s it to you?” Ron backed up a bit.

“Just concerned you sounded like you were in pain. What were you dreaming about?”

Harry blinked a few times still trying to wake up, “Unicorns and rainbows now get off the subject.”

Ron replied, “Bloody Hell you don’t have to be so snappy. Just trying to tell you we’re here…you know Hogwarts. Time to get off the train.”

Harry felt a little bad for growling at Ron but didn’t think it was any of his business what he dreamt about. It wasn’t like he had any clue of what real pain was. Know one really knew or could understand and that scared Harry the most. Despite all that, he felt like here in this place, everything was going to be different. No more beatings, ridicule, or fear. This time Harry was going to take charge of himself and finally be free. But what freedom would entail, Harry could not even imagine.