Unfortunate Circumstances

Chapter Two

Very early that morning, still well before sunrise, Vernon Dursley decided to get up. He felt as though something was drilling right into his head. Since he sold drills, this was somewhat ironic, but at the moment he wasn't in the frame of mind to appreciate such humor.

Since he could no longer sleep, he might as well get something done. He began cleaning up the mess from last night in the living room. He was glad that Petunia and Dudley weren't there. Petunia hates messes. Leaning over had made his head throb even more. Aspirin.

Vernon saw the vodka bottle on the kitchen table, now almost empty. Holding his head, he slowly, gingerly reached above it to the cabinet for the aspirin. The letter was still on the floor, crumpled, right where he'd left it. Picking it up (ow, the head), he read:

"We regret to inform you that, due to unfortunate circumstances, your son will not be able to attend our academy this year. We are sorry, but..."

That was enough. He threw the letter back down.

They had been so certain Dudley was going to get in. The school had had a few last-minute openings, and they'd jumped on it. In fact, Dudley and Petunia were already in London, taking a few days to buy supplies and uniforms. Dudley was growing up, becoming more mature now, and for some reason Smeltings just didn't seem to meet his needs any more. Dudley will be so disappointed.

He walked to the sink for a glass of water. The other glass, empty, sat on the kitchen table. Last night, he'd been sitting there, staring into space, nursing his drink, when he'd heard a noise in the garage.

******

The evening before, when Vernon had come into the garage, he'd seen boxes still left on the floor. Facing the other way, Harry was putting a canister of Petunia's old garden tools up on a high shelf, and didn't see him. Vernon had told Harry to clean up the garage that morning, and for him to be done with it by that night. Obviously, he wasn't.

Vernon was tired of his instructions not being followed, and still very angry from the letter and its contents. He slipped up behind Harry and, with the flat of his hand, whacked him hard across the back, nearly knocking him down.

"What the -" Caught by surprise, Harry stumbled and whirled around.

"Now just when were you going to finish this?" Vernon gestured at the garage, yelling. Red-faced and exasperated, he cuffed Harry sharply, across the face. "You know you're leaving for school tomorrow!" He slapped him again.

Fists clenched, Harry at first made as if to strike back, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, face set, he closed his eyes for a second, and said through gritted teeth, "You're drunk." Turning his back on Vernon, Harry started to go up through the garage to the house.

Things seemed to move very fast after that. Surprising himself, Vernon jumped to block Harry's way. "Just like you to take off with chores undone!"

Vernon grabbed the shocked Harry by the arm and smacked him in the face, hard. As he tried once more, Harry ducked, then looked at him with blood in his eyes.

Holding his jaw while still facing Vernon, he jerked and twisted away, dodging, into the house. With his face very dark, he weaved, zigzagging his way sideways through an obstacle course that was normally the living room, his uncle right in his face.

Harry was quick enough to block Vernon and his flailing jabs a couple of times, but he did not strike back. Vernon knew that Harry was trying to get up to the stairs before losing control, but he didn't care.

Due to Vernon's poor aim and great girth, a chair fell, then a picture off the wall, then a vase and flowers, narrowly missing Harry. While causing all of these mishaps, Vernon's single-minded anger registered none of them. Although much larger, Vernon was not nearly as fast. Most of his swinging punches only hit air.

Frustrated, Vernon lunged towards the boy. Using most of his considerable weight, he was able to reach far enough to push him back with both arms, hard.

Harry fell back, his foot tangling in the living room lamp cord. Unbalanced, he tried to catch himself. As he stumbled, the cord drew taut to pull tight against his ankle, tripping him. The lamp pulled loose from its socket to crash into Harry. Both Harry and the lamp then smashed, thudding, against the wall to the floor.

Vernon never liked to see blood. Usually, he'd been able to avoid it.

The room was suddenly very still, and Vernon thought to himself that he might be sobering up. The only sounds that could be heard were cars from the street outside. At that moment, however, he also heard a rap at the front door and froze. Before he could answer, the unlocked door opened.

Damn the luck! It was a dratted Weasley kid. He wasn't sure, but thought he was the one Harry was friends with, though to him, they all looked alike. An odd family, even for their kind.

The redheaded boy came in like he owned the place. Don't his people know better than that? He was blathering something to Vernon about having gotten his dad's car a night early, although Vernon wasn't really listening at this point, and that he wanted to show Harry around town. He reached the living room off the landing and stopped.

Vernon watched as Ron saw the condition of the room. Ron noticed the knocked-over furniture. He caught sight of the fallen lamp, with Harry under it. He spotted the bunched-up rugs and the open door to the garage. He even saw the wall.

Trying to get up, Harry had now made it to his knees. Swaying and wobbly, one hand slipping and sliding, he looked like he didn't quite know where he was. The cord snaked across him, while the lamp lay in broken shards all around. He put his other hand to the back of his head, then slowly removed it. He stared at it, blinking, surprised at the blood.

Without saying a word, Ron cautiously moved past Vernon to Harry. However, he looked sideways at him as if to keep an eye out. He helped the dazed Harry move out from under the heavy floor lamp, then grabbed the shorter boy's wrist.

Seeing Ron's white face, Vernon thought to tell him that it was an accident, that Harry had tripped, that Ron could go ahead and ask Harry himself if he wanted to. From what Vernon had heard about that wizard school, while there, Harry had spent half his life in the infirmary. The kid had always been mighty clumsy, and besides, this time the story was true. However, he couldn't seem to get his jaw to work properly. Somehow his brain was not connecting to his mouth. Words would not come out.

Ron bent down and gently pulled Harry's arm way over his shoulder, catching his waist with his other arm, to almost lift him off his feet. Without taking his eyes off Vernon, and while watching him as though he were a double of that crazed convict Sirius Black, he slowly and carefully half-dragged, half-pulled his friend, feet snagging through the carpet, back across the room.

At the foyer, Harry, quite dizzy now, almost fell over. Ron caught him just in time, before they both went to the floor. Somehow they managed to stumble back into the night, out through the open front door, Vernon watching them wordlessly. Vernon never saw Ron blink.

He dropped, exhausted, onto the couch.