One Day in Surrey

“Mummy, I’m hungry now!”

Harry ducked even further into his seat. Dudley was mad enough already (Aunt Petunia hadn’t let him buy the ray-gun he’d spotted in a toy store’s window) and would probably take his frustrations out on Harry soon enough. Even Dudley’s slow mind was apt to figure out that it was Harry’s fault he was waiting in a stuffy shop rather than eating ice-cream in front of the television.

“Just a few more minutes, Diddy,” Aunt Petunia said. She pursed her lips, glaring at the couple who’d made the mistake of attracting the shopkeeper’s attention just as Harry and his family had entered the store.

In contrast to his aunt and cousin, Harry wasn’t minding the wait very much. It was better than being chased by Dudley and his friends or even playing in his cupboard with the tiny, cracked toy soldiers Aunt Petunia had forced Dudley to relinquish because they were a “choking hazard.” Secretly, Harry doubted the smallish soldiers were in any danger of sticking in Dudley’s wide neck, which looked like it could swallow the lot of them easily.

A sniffling sound came from Harry’s left. He risked a glance at Dudley. Sure enough, the portly five-year-old’s round face was turning pink. A full-scale tantrum was only moments away, Harry thought.

Aunt Petunia must have had the same thought, because she pulled a large chocolate bar from her purse and had it in Dudley’s hands before Harry could blink. Dudley quieted immediately.

Meanwhile, the couple who’d arrived first had finished with their purchase. Aunt Petunia swiftly marched to the counter before any other would-be customers could get ahead of her. Harry trailed a bit behind his aunt, eager to be away from Dudley before his chocolate ran out.

“How may I help you today?” asked the shopkeeper. He was an older, mostly bald man whom Harry thought smelled strongly of cigarettes.

“I called ahead with the prescription for my nephew. It should be listed under Potter,” Aunt Petunia said, though she almost whispered the name “Potter,” as she tended to do whenever she was forced to speak Harry’s surname.

“Ah yes, Mrs. Dursley, I remember your call. We have several glasses for young boys in that prescription, please give me a moment to collect a tray for you.”

Aunt Petunia tapped her nails impatiently on the glass counter while she waited. Harry peered curiously at the shapes inside the counter, but didn’t dare ask his aunt what they were. Yesterday his Uncle Vernon had given him a long lecture about why asking questions was very wrong and very much not the sort of thing people (Harry especially) should do. Harry privately thought his uncle felt this way because Harry asked questions which Vernon Dursley did not know the answers to and did not want to seem stupid by giving the wrong answer, but Harry had been cowed enough that he didn’t want to risk another lecture.

“Here we are,” said the shopkeeper. “Why don’t you hop up here in front of the mirror, young man, so we can see which pair you like best.”

It took Harry a minute to realize the shopkeeper was speaking to him, and somewhat longer than a minute for him to scramble up the high stool in front of the mirror. Aunt Petunia had to hold the stool in place so he didn’t accidentally knock it over.

“Now,” began the shopkeeper, “here we have a popular—and modestly priced—style which lots of boys your age are wearing.” He held up one of the blob-like shapes with brownish edges, showing it to Aunt Petunia briefly before plopping it onto Harry’s nose. “How do they feel?”

Harry almost gasped when he saw himself in the mirror; he’d never seen his face so clearly before. His face seemed very thin with a well-defined nose and sharp, dark eyebrows on top of his bright green eyes. Above his eyebrows Harry’s scar was vivid and he decided on the spot that he quite liked its zigzag shape, even though his aunt frequently called it ugly.

Then Aunt Petunia cleared her throat loudly, and Harry remembered he’d been asked a question. “They feel heavy,” he said. The glasses Harry wore were indeed heavy, and consisted of large, square shaped lenses with thin brown frames.

“Hmm,” said the shopkeeper. He plucked the brown glasses from Harry’s nose and hovered over his tray for a moment before selecting another pair.

Harry liked the second pair instantly. They were a little big for his face, but still were lighter than the first pair. They had smaller, round lenses and thick black frames.

“These are better,” Harry said, liking the way his face didn’t look so thin with the second pair.

“Those aren’t as popular,” said the shopkeeper. “But they are very inexpensive and since they’re a larger size you wouldn’t need to replace them so soon.”

Harry grinned at his reflection, then scrunched up his nose. The glasses threatened to fall off his now wrinkled face, so he held them in place with his thumb. “Can we get these, Aunt Petunia?”

Aunt Petunia’s throat made an odd, squeaky sound. “The brown ones—the brown ones suit better, I think,” she said. “Those make you look just like your father,” Aunt Petunia said, seeming to spit the words, “your father.”

Unfortunately for Petunia Dursley, this statement only served to bind Harry to the round, black glasses more tightly than Dudley was bound to his favorite television. “But these are cheaper,” Harry said. “And I can use them for a long time and Uncle Vernon said he didn’t want to spend a lot of money,” he cajoled, a Dudley-esq sounding whine that Harry didn’t often use.

“Well—if they’re cheaper,” Aunt Petunia was caught between her husband’s frugality and giving Harry something he wanted.

“Mummy, I’m hungry,” said Dudley, who had waddled over to the counter. The only evidence that he’d just eaten an enormous chocolate bar was a crumpled wrapper left at the other end of the shop.

Aunt Petunia frowned (Harry supposed she was out of candy) and muttered, “Fine, fine, look like that no good freak…” Harry stopped listening at that point; Aunt Petunia said the same thing whenever his school photos were delivered just before she tossed them in the bin.

Happy to have got his own way for once, Harry wriggled off of the stool (though Aunt Petunia had to catch him so he didn’t fall into the glass counter) and found himself face-to-face with Dudley.

Harry shook his head as he looked at his cousin, seeing Dudley clearly for the first time. “Dudley, you’ve got a nose!” Harry said, shocked that he hadn’t noticed this fact before, even if Dudley’s nose was hard to see between his two fat cheeks.

“Of course I’ve got a nose,” Dudley said, touching it with his finger. Satisfied that he did, in fact, have a nose, Dudley dropped his hand to his side. He sneered at Harry and said: “You’ve got four-eyes, Potter!”

“I do not have four-eyes!” Harry said, feeling a bit defensive of his new glasses.

“Yes you do! Harry Potter has four-eyes! Harry Potter has four-eyes!”

“Stop it!”

“Four-eyes, four-eyes, Harry has four-eyes,” Dudley chanted, clapping his piggy hands in rhythm.

“I do not! They’re glasses,” Harry said. A hot swell of anger bubbled inside of him as Dudley kept on chanting “four-eyes.”

“I DO NOT HAVE FOUR-EYES!” Harry yelled, but that didn’t stop Dudley. “YOU-YOU HAVE FOUR-EYES!”

Suddenly, Dudley did have four-eyes.

Harry gaped at his cousin; he was so stunned he forgot about being angry even though Dudley hadn’t stopped chanting. Somehow, two new eyeballs had sprouted in his cousin’s round cheeks. The new eyeballs blinked at him curiously until Aunt Petunia screamed.

“Put him back this instant!” Aunt Petunia shrieked, her hands flapping uselessly around Dudley’s face. “This isn’t funny, boy!”

Dudley finally realized something was wrong. He stopped chanting long enough to look at his reflection in the glass counter—and wailed louder than he ever had before, “MUMMY!” Dudley started crying with all four eyes, trying to cover them all with his chubby hands.

“Fix him!” Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry, kneeling so Dudley could bury his face in her arms.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Harry demanded, feeling a little close to crying himself. He hadn't done it on purpose and he really didn’t like the looks he was getting from the other people in the shop. A lump formed in Harry’s throat, and his vision became blurry for the first time since putting on his new glasses.

But before Aunt Petunia could say anything more, two loud pops sounded in the shop. From thin air (or so it seemed to Harry) two men wearing dark blue dresses appeared.

“Yikes,” said one, pulling a long stick from somewhere inside his dress. “I’ll get started on the memory charms, and you fix the muggle.”

His companion nodded and pulled out his own stick. Harry found himself unable to speak as the second man advanced on Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Aunt Petunia, however, was not so affected and gave the man a glare that would have sent Harry scurrying to his cupboard. “Fix him, you freak!” she cried.

If the man was insulted by Harry’s aunt, he didn’t show it. Instead he leaned down and pointed his stick at Dudley and muttered something that Harry could not hear. Moments later: “All better,” the man said cheerfully.

The first wizard (for the two men were actually wizards working for the Ministry of Magic, even if Harry didn’t know it) joined his partner next to Aunt Petunia. The three adults had a quick, furious discussion while Dudley continued to bawl even though he was fixed. Aunt Petunia’s bony finger jabbed in Harry’s direction several times while she whispered to the two wizards. After what seemed an eternity to Harry, one of the wizards came over to him.

“I’d like to say it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter,” said the man as he reached to shake Harry’s hand. “Even though you won’t be remembering it.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask why, why was it an honor and why wouldn’t he remember, but before he could—

“Obliviate.”

Harry shook his head as he looked at his cousin, seeing Dudley clearly for the first time. “Dudley, you’ve got a nose!” Harry said, shocked that he hadn’t noticed this fact before, even if Dudley’s nose was hard to see between his two fat cheeks.

“Of course I’ve got a nose,” Dudley said, touching it with his finger. Satisfied that he did, in fact, have a nose, Dudley dropped his hand to his side. He sneered at Harry and said: “You’ve got four-eyes, Potter!”

“I do not have—”

“Would you like to get some ice-cream, Duddy-kins?” Aunt Petunia asked, her voice sounding unusually strained. Harry blinked, had Aunt Petunia already paid for his glasses?

“Yes!” Dudley shouted, attracting glances from some of the other customers.

Aunt Petunia ushered Harry and Dudley out of the shop. “Never-again,” she vowed through gritted teeth. Harry might’ve thought to ask her why if he hadn’t been distracted by two men watching him from across the street. They each wore a dark blue dress, which Harry thought very strange by itself, and stranger still, they make eye contact and nodded to him before disappearing from the sidewalk. Harry craned his neck to get a better look, but the men were gone, like they’d never even been there.

“Hurry up, boy!” Harry’s aunt snapped. Frowning, Harry wondered what he’d done to upset Aunt Petunia before he hurried to walk behind his aunt and cousin. Maybe he’d be able to get some ice-cream too.