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Harry really hated hearing Dudley cry. Scratch that, he hated that his aunt and uncle were so stupid to believe him. See, Dudley hadn't really cried in years. The second he wanted to get Harry in trouble, which was often, he'd scrunch his face and wail. And of course, good old Mummy would give him whatever he wanted. That was how things were at 4 Privet Drive.
"Oh, Duddydums, don't cry. Mummy won't let that boy ruin your day, no, she won't!" she reassured him, hugging him tightly. Ugh, how the boy was fine with the silly nicknames was beyond Harry. If Aunt Petunia called him Harrykins, he'd assume the world was ending.
But it was his birthday. Not Harry's but Dudley's. Every year, the Dursleys would spend the whole day showering their already spoiled son with love. From the waterpark to fatty burger joints, they'd indulge the boy's every whim. And every year, they left him behind at their cooky neighbour's house, Mrs. Figg.
Harry wasn't fond of her house—it smelt like rank cabbage and old litter—but at least she had some friendly cats. Not Wilkie, but that bushy cat gave Harry a horrible scar on his wrist. It was almost as thick as the one on his forehead, the little lightning bolt. That scar made Harry feel a little cool, while the wrist scar was just embarrassing. Seriously, a cat?
As Dudley continued his farce, the bell suddenly rang. Harry felt a pang of excitement, distracting him from thoughts about his scars. This year, Mrs. Figg wasn’t around to babysit Harry. She was recovering from a broken ankle. Going to the zoo sounded wicked. Sure, he'd be with the Dursleys, but he had never been to the zoo. He could ignore them for a bit, so long as they ignored him.
The door opened, and there walked in Piers Polkiss and his mum. They were both thin, but Piers was unfortunately born looking like a rat. At least his mum was decent enough, though she wore loads of bangles. It made her clack and clink with every step. Dudley stopped his crying at once, rushing up to Piers to tell him how many presents he got.
"Just thirty-six presents this year!" he scoffed. "But Mum and Dad said they'd get me more, enough to get to forty!"
Harry rolled his eyes. Dudley's maths was off by a present. Hopefully, he'd forget he said forty, otherwise there'd be another Dudley Tantrum when they got home.
Half an hour later and some rearranging, and Harry couldn't believe his luck. He sat in the passenger seat next to Uncle Vernon, with his aunt and his cousin sitting in the back. Piers sat in between the two, gesturing wildly at the pigeons as they drove. He was glad he wasn't smooshed against Dudley's sweaty blubber, but Uncle Vernon wasn't that much of an upgrade.
But the zoo was worth it, worth the many warnings Harry had to deal with before getting into the car.
"You best not move a hair out of line, boy," started Uncle Vernon. He pulled in close, his hand pressed hard on Harry's shoulder. "Anything funny, and you'll be mucking weeds until Christmas."
"I'll be quiet, won't do anything," said Harry. "Honest."
Of course, Uncle Vernon didn't believe him, but there they were, driving off to the zoo.
No one ever believed him, even when Harry hadn't done anything wrong. But no, the Dursleys managed to blame him for every stint in his life.
One time, Aunt Petunia had sheared Harry's hair off. She only left his bangs, claiming that it was to 'hide that horrid scar.' Dudley and Uncle Vernon found it hilarious, while Harry was mortified. He looked like his classmate Ella's old doll. He spent the night eyes wide open in his cupboard, dreading school the next day.
The next morning, however, his hair returned to its unruly state. It felt nice, having his hair back to his nape. Aunt Petunia was furious, though, and locked him in the cupboard under the stairs for a week. Or not, time was hard to track down there.
But it wasn't Harry's fault; if he could grow his hair in demand, he'd have half a mind to leave the Dursleys. Maybe he could travel as a circus-wonder, the boy with the fastest growing hair. Agh, that would be embarrassing though. Maybe if he were given enough money…
But no, today nothing would go wrong. It was going to be a lovely day at the zoo. Harry hadn't gotten many things living with the Dursleys, but he had an old library book Mrs. Figg forgot to return. She passed it along to him during Dudley's last birthday, and Harry took great care to hide it in his cupboard.
It was a book chock full of animals; from opalescent snakes to burly bears, Harry loved reading the book. The pictures were also great. The pages seemed to jump right out at Harry. He needed to see the snakes at least.
As Uncle Vernon drove, he complained about every little thing. His neck veins bulged as he ranted: Harry is so lazy, the road is getting uneven, Harry burnt his eggs yesterday morning, an old man sneezed on him, Harry, Harry, Harry.
"…and these motorcycles, they roared like they were possessed. Those maniacs riding them," he sneered, watching a cyclist drive past them.
"I dreamt about a motorcycle," Harry chimed in. "It was flying."
Uncle Vernon just about crashed the car outside the zoo. Well damn, Harry shouldn't have said anything. Sometimes his mouth spoke before his brain could get to work. Uncle Vernon, his face bright and shiny, yelled at Harry, spit flying in his face. "Motorbikes don't fly, you twit!" he bellowed.
Dudley and Piers snorted, taking pleasure in Harry getting yelled at. Honestly, get a hobby…And no way, Harry definitely knew motorcycles couldn't fly. It was just a dream…he had to bite his tongue to avoid saying that out loud.
The boys in the back slammed the car doors open, tumbling out. Harry was much more subdued and took in the sky. It was a sunny Saturday, and various families were going about the zoo. They looked happy, with mums holding their daughters up to the glass and brothers chasing each other. It hurt a little, seeing such happy families. But it also made Harry feel a bit warm to see them all together.
Uncle Vernon bought Dudley and Piers chocolate ice creams, large and covered in rainbow sprinkles, at the entrance. The smiling lady asked Harry what he wanted before the Dursleys could hurry him along, so they ordered him a lemon ice lolly. It was the cheapest thing on the menu, and cooled Harry down.
Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him. He was perfectly happy with just the two scars, thank you very much. To passerbys, this was a loud family parading through the zoo and a scrawny schoolboy who happened to be in the same area.
Sometimes, Harry would pretend he wasn't related to the Dursleys at all. He hardly looked like them, not the fat cousin or his horsy mother. That must have meant he looked like his dad, or maybe his mum. He wasn't sure what they looked like; the Dursleys claimed his parents lost the house before the car crash that killed him. Emphasis on 'claimed,' Harry found it hard to believe.
Surely they won't just drunks. Or maybe Harry was just being childish, hoping that they were actually alive and just busy, that they would spring up and take him far away. He snorted; that'd be the dream.
Eventually, they sat at the zoo restaurant at about three in the afternoon. And when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory wasn’t big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one, and Harry got to finish the first. But Harry should have known it wasn't to last.
See, after lunch, they went to the reptile house. According to the book, it was called a herpetarium. When he mentioned it to Aunt Petunia, she told him it was embarrassing to pretend to be smart. The herpetarium was cool and dark, with lit windows lining the walls. Behind the glass exhibits, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood. Dudley and Piers rushed to the very back, to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. They were wickedly dangerous, their opalescent scales shimmering. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body thrice around Uncle Vernon and eaten him up. However, the python was in no mood. Even as Piers and Dudley hollered at it, it remained fast asleep.
Eventually, Piers grew bored with the lazy snake and ran off to see the snapping turtles. Dudley stood there, nose pressed into the glass, watching the brown snake.
"Make it move," he whined to his father. Uncle Vernon nodded grimly and knocked on the glass. Nothing. Harry wished he had that audacity; if he were a giant snake, it'd make his life loads easier.
"Do it again," Dudley demanded. At this point, Uncle Vernon slammed both hands on the glass, rattling the whole enclosure. Still, the snake remained determined to ignore them. It was pretty funny.
Dudley pushed himself off the glass, exclaiming, "This is boring!" Uncle Vernon shuffled along, promising that there'd be better animals in the reptile house. It was just Harry and the glittering python now.
Living in a zoo might have been fun in the beginning, but having the Dudley sort of visitors seemed miserable. Harry was glad his cupboard was made of wood; at least he had privacy. The thick glass pane was so exposed. He peered into the enclosure, careful not to touch the glass.
It was a beautiful snake, a boa constrictor if Harry wasn't mistaken. He had made a game of trying to remember the names of as many animals as he could. Suddenly, the snake opened its beady eyes, staring directly into Harry's soul.
It raised its head, slowly rising until it was levelled to Harry's face. And there, Harry would swear up and down, it winked at him. One eye blinked slowly while the other held his gaze. And then it talked.
"I get that all the time. Humans, am I right?" it hissed. It was honestly speaking to him, with its consonants elongated. He looked around, confirming that no one was watching. He was in the clear.
Harry went along, gobsmacked. "Yeah. Humans. Must be annoying for you."
The snake nodded with fervour. "So where do you come from?" asked Harry. Then it pointed its tail at the sign next to the enclosure. 'Boa constrictor, native to Brazil.' So he was right, he thought with some pride, it really was a boa constrictor. Underneath it was some information about the species, then in bold print, 'born and bred in the facility.'
"So that was a stupid question. You've never been to Brazil, right?" he asked. Again, the snake, or rather Tilly, according to the sign, shook its head.
A shriek startled both of them, and Harry jumped back from the glass. "Dudley! Mr. Dursley, come now! You won't believe what the python is doing!" yelled Piers. Harry could swear he heard the snake mutter that she 'wasn't a python' as she lay back down.
Dudley came shuffling right to him, Uncle Vernon hot on his heels. "Out of the way, freak," said Dudley, shoving Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard onto the concrete floor. Dudley and Piers were shoved close to the glass, pointing wildly at Tilly. Uncle Vernon ignored Harry and looked vaugley impressed at the snake.
What came next couldn't be Harry's fault, as Uncle Vernon claimed it was on the car ride home. One moment, the two boys were leaning against the glass, then poof, it was just gone. Gasps of horror plagued the herpetarium. Piers managed to catch himself on the railing, but Dudley wasn't so lucky. He fell right into the enclosure, squealing like a pig as Tilly slithered past him. People all around started darting towards the exit, while Dudley rocked back and forth. Uncle Vernon ran off to get a staff member, Piers close behind, and Harry snickered to himself. Served the prat right, bothering Tilly like that.
As she slithered past Harry, she hissed out, "Tchau, boy! Off to Brazil I go!"
The herpetarium keeper was in shock, Uncle Vernon fuming behind him. "But the glass," he kept repeating, "Where did the glass go?" Piers and Dudley were huddling together, just about ready to wet their pants.
The zoo director made an appearance, buying Dudley a giant elephant stuffed animal while she apologised to Aunt Petunia. As far as Harry had seen, Tilly hadn’t done anything except hiss playfully as it passed, but by the time they were all back in the car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly killed him, while Piers chimed in with his commentary.
But worst of all was Piers adding, "Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?" Harry could only imagine what trouble he was going to get into. Which was stupid. How did talking to Tilly equate to setting her free?
And was Harry right, the moment Piers left with his mum, Uncle Vernon turned a beet shade of red, so angry he was shaking. With a pudgy finger, he sentenced Harry to the cupboard. And there Harry remained till the next day.
Harry stared up at the ceiling, where a spider was weaving a rather nice web. He could make out the details thanks to the light filtering through the cupboard door, the light bulb flickering a bit. His stomach grumbled, but he tried his best to ignore it. Getting in trouble again for sneaking out for food just wasn't worth it right now. Holding onto the moment with Tilly and the sour lemon lolly was better, much better.
He’d lived with the Dursleys for ten miserable years, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had died. But according to Aunt Petunia, he had been, which was crazy. How could two grown adults die where their infant son survived? And with just a scar on his forehead? Sometimes when he was deep asleep, he dreamt of a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, maybe, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. Maybe the green traffic light? But it was a harsher green than that.
Harry couldn’t remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and he obviously couldn't ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house, but he somewhat knew that his parents were young when they had him. He still missed them, and even if they were drunkards, he liked to pretend that they loved him. That his mum was warm and that his dad was bright; that they were both awfully proud of Harry. Hah, he scoffed as he blew away some dust.
Hopefully, secondary school would be better, with Dudley off at Smeltings. Harry would have to endure in the small neighbourhood, then he'd finish his education and go off somewhere far. Maybe Brazil, maybe the States. Just as long as he was far from the Dursleys, Harry would be happier. He was past wishing for them to care about him; he didn't need anyone.
But for now, he stayed in the little cupboard under the stairs.