That's My Boy

Mmm...flambe...

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The bus screeched to a halt at the corner of Privet Drive. A small dark haired boy with round glasses bounded off the bus first, and took a running start towards number 4 Privet Drive. He thought he´d never been so thirsty in all of his life; he´d spilled his milk at lunch time because he´d tripped over his shoelaces, and so hadn´t had anything to drink since breakfast. No matter; nothing could spoil his mood for the few precious hours he would have alone in the house. He found his afternoons were a lot more tolerable now that Dudley was enrolled in an after-school program, and Aunt Petunia had started to do her errands in the afternoon. Every day after school Harry had a few hours to himself, and it was always heavenly. He could eat however much he liked out of the refrigerator, and usually stored extra food in cupboard for later, in case the Dursleys forgot to let him out for dinner, which seemed to happen with some frequency. Harry would lounge on the couch and watch TV like a normal nine year old does after school, and he relished every minute of it. Once in a while he would even feel brave enough to play with some of Dudley´s toys, or maybe even the computer. Today, though, all of that could wait.

After he had unlocked the door with the key from under the mat, Harry ran into the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door. He searched the refrigerator from top to bottom, but there were no juice boxes to be had. "Oh well," Harry muttered to himself. "I could just thaw one in the microwave." He dragged a stool from the corner of the kitchen over and plucked a frozen juice box from the freezer.

He punched in one minute on the microwave and dragged the stool to the cupboard so he could reach a glass. He was busy rooting around in the cupboard when he smelled something funny. He paused, took a deep breath, and noticed it was growing stronger. What was it? He sniffed his shirt; no, that wasn´t it. Was it the cupboard? No, that wasn´t it. The only other thing it could be was-

"Ahhhh! The juice!" Harry cried, leaping off the stool and ripping the microwave door open. Small flames were fast devouring the box of apple juice. "Baking soda! Where´s the baking soda!" Harry shrieked to no one in particular. Frantically, he dragged the stool over to the large hanging shelf that held all of the big jars of flour, sugar, and, among other things, the baking soda. Harry grabbed the box and flung its entire contents in the general direction of the fire, seemingly covering everything in the kitchen except the fire in the microwave. Growling in frustration, he filled a glass up with water next and hurled it at the fire. A loud hissssss and the fire was gone, but the mounds of baking soda covering the stove and the floor were not. Smoke was billowing out of the microwave and the juice box was firmly melted to the bottom. "Oh man," he moaned, not even wanting to think what Aunt Petunia would say when she got home. His eyes widened at the thought of his aunt. "Oh no! Aunt Petunia!" Knowing he didn´t have much time before she got home, Harry, teetering off the edge of the stool, tried to put the empty box of baking soda back up on the top shelf. He managed to replace the baking soda only by grasping the side of the shelf, but a loud crack let Harry know about four seconds too late that it hadn´t been the best idea. All four boards on the shelf seemed to give out simultaneously and Harry watched with a mixture of amazement and horror as jars filled to the brim with honey, peanut butter, jam, olive oil, and everything in between crashed to the ground, creating a sea of unidentifiable slop on the kitchen floor. "Oh man," he repeated in a feeble voice.

A shrill scream from the doorway signaled Aunt Petunia´s arrival.

Harry grinned sheepishly from the stool where he was still perched. "I-I can explain, Aunt Petunia, see-"

"Wh-Wh-What happened? What did you do? What is this??" she stammered loudly, motioning weakly to the mess on the floor. Harry ran one hand through his hair like he always did when he was nervous and bit his lip.

"See, I wanted some juice, and-but they were all frozen, see, so I had to um, so I had to get one out of the freezer, and uh...uh, I thought it´d be quicker if I, you know, if I heated it up in the microwave, but see, something went wrong, and it, and it catched on fire, and-"

"You put a juice box in the microwave?!" Aunt Petunia screeched up at him. "Of course it caught on fire you git, those juice boxes have metal on the bottom!"

Harry nodded vigorously. He was now dancing from foot to foot, eager to explain. "Uh huh, uh huh, see, I didn´t know that, I didn´t! So I knowed that I had to put baking soda on it, so I threw some at it, but it missed? Yeah, it missed, you know? So that´s why its all over the place? An´ so I had to get some water an´ I threw it an´ it put the fire out, but then the juice box melted to the bottom of the microwave-"

"It what?"

"Uh huh, uh huh, and so then I tried to put the baking soda back up on th´ shelf but I had to hanged on to the shelf to get it up there an´ the shelf it falled down an´ made this mess, see?" Harry finished triumphantly.

Aunt Petunia opened and closed her mouth a few times but no sound would emerge. Harry was worried her head might explode because he´d never seen anyone´s vein on their forehead throb that hard. He was just about to ask if maybe she wanted some juice when she screamed,

"Just like your mother and father! Incapable, incompetent, and stupid! Just plain stupid! They didn´t have any sense and neither do you! You can´t do anything right boy, you´re just a mistake that your uncle and I were burdened with!" Harry shrank back some; he was used to being yelled at, but it was never like this. "You´re worthless! You can mess up the littlest thing, do you realize that? Do you?! I knew we couldn´t trust you here alone, I knew you´d do something! Now look at this mess! It will take hours to clean up and you´ve ruined the microwave! You´re good for nothing, Harry Potter, you ruin everyone´s day that you come in contact with! Your entire life doesn´t have one redeeming quality, you´re just taking up space! I wish you had done us all a favor and died with your wretched, miserable parents in that car accident!"

Harry´s eyes were wide and filled with tears, but he had learned long ago that crying did nothing. It never brought any relief, only more screaming and yelling from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He could cry and cry, but nothing would ever get any better. He would always be strange Harry Potter with the big clothes and ugly scar. He would always be told that he wasn´t worth anything and that no one wanted him. Crying did nothing; so why were there hot tears cascading down his face?

"Blubber all you want, boy, you won´t get any sympathy from me!" Aunt Petunia snapped, getting out the mop from the closet. "If I were you, I´d put myself in my cupboard and stay there until your uncle got home. If you can´t behave yourself, he can sure show you the consequences. Now get out of here. Go!"

Without another word, Harry scampered off to his cupboard, dutifully putting himself inside and shutting the door tight. He put his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth, gritting his teeth and fighting the tears that threatened to fall. I´m bad, he thought to himself. A small sob rose in his throat but Harry swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. He wished for a moment that he had something to hold, like a stuffed teddy bear or soft blanket. He knew there were dozens of unwanted things in Dudley´s room that were never used, soft things that were good for holding on to when you were in trouble. He wished he had one of those things. Better yet, he thought, I wish I had a person to hold on to.

Harry huddled down in his bed that was just barely big enough for him and cried silently into his moldy, flat pillow. He hadn´t been asleep for more than an hour when a loud banging tore Harry away from slumber. "Get up! NOW!" roared a familiar voice from behind his door.

"I´m coming!" Harry said in as pleasant a voice as he could muster. He sat up quickly, bumping his head on the ceiling in the process, and emerged from the cupboard. Uncle Vernon towered over him, beet red and fuming.

"I heard what you did this afternoon, boy! What´s more, I know you did it on purpose! You´re always trying to mess things up, aren´t you? Miserable little twerp that you are we should have known better than to leave you alone in our home! Now you listen to me," Uncle Vernon spat, grabbing Harry´s shoulder roughly, and shaking him. "You´re going outside until we can decide what to do with you."

"Outside!" Harry whined. "Bu-But its cold!"

"So what!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, thrusting him towards the door. "Get out there!"

A cold blast of air sent a chill down Harry´s spine as he heard the door slam behind him. He plopped down on the garden bench and clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He rested his head in his hands, and gazed longingly up at the stars. "Mom? Dad?" he whispered. "Are you up there? I wonder if you can hear me." Harry listened intently for a moment, almost listening for a response, but the only thing he heard was the sound of an owl hooting in the tree above him. "Well, just in case you are listening, maybe...maybe I could ask you a favor. Not a big one, but, well, I...I could use some help, Mom and Dad. Anything you could send me would be all right. Anything at all. Ok?"

"All right, get back in here!" Uncle Vernon called out the back door to Harry. "And get to bed! No dinner!"

Harry was almost grateful to be trotting off to bed; it would be a bit warmer and perhaps he would have the dream again. As he passed by the kitchen table, he didn´t notice a scrap of paper with an ad scribbled on it that Aunt Petunia would put in the paper the next day:

Sitter needed for nine year old boy.

Daily basis.

Please call at 4 Privet Drive for interview.

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