The Younger Years

Chapter One: Starting Off the Year

Harry listened impatiently to the now hum-drum and predictable stomps on the top of his stairs, the stomps that were usually the reason his un-made bed had dust in it when he went to sleep: Dudley was having a tantrum.

Harry's cousin, Dudley, was turning 7 in a few days. But no matter how much his mum and dad pleaded with him, he still would not go to bed until they had. Instead he threw tantrums up the stairs, screaming and crying and throwing his weight around the staircase. On one particular night when Aunt Petunia suggested he sit on the stair way and try to calm down for a minute, he actually snatched a picture of himself off the wall and threw it down the stairs, causing glass to fly in the open door into the cupboard under the stairs, where his cousin was trying to sleep.

Yes, Dudley's tantrums of rage were now just a part of life, and on most occasions Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon decided after a few minutes that their fight had been fought as respectively as any one could, and they retired to their beds before Dudley had.

When this happened, which it usually did, Dudley would stay up all night eating ice cream and drinking fizzy sodas while he watched the R rated movies that his parents hid behind the lamp in the corner of the kitchen. He'd also taunt Harry at these times, slipping nasty, unpleasant things such as rocks and worms through the grate and into his small room. Harry was immune to those things, they did not hurt him, and they did not really want to be where they were, just like him, so he mostly took pity on them.

Harry sighed. He had been hoping that Dudley would be sent to bed today so that he could have some peaceful sleep before the first day of school, but he supposed this was all he could have. He heard Dudley pounding down the stairs above his head as he slipped on his blue striped pajamas. They were awfully big, they had once been Dudley's, but if he wore only the top and some old, moth-eaten shorts of Uncle Vernon, he could sometimes keep himself from getting trapped in the sheets.

Harry lay, exhausted on his bed for a time, thinking about how his first grade year would go, before he drifted to sleep to the sound of Dudley jumping on the overstuffed couch...

He woke late that morning, to the sound of Aunt Petunia rapping on the door of his cupboard. He looked down at himself and groaned.

He was all wet, it seemed that Dudley had tried to make it look as though Harry had wet the bed, something that Aunt Petunia utterly loathed. Dudley had also gone to the trouble of tying the sleeves of Harry's nightshirt to the bedposts, and spreading his underwear all around the room.

Harry took a few minutes to survey the damage, then Aunt Petunia burst open the door of the cupboard.

"What are you-" she started to shriek, then at the sight of Harry, sopping wet and stretched between the two bedposts, she began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Vernon! Oh Vernon look at what our Diddy Dinker Dums did to this boy!"

"It's not funny," muttered Harry, trying to free himself from the nightshirt as Uncle Vernon came in.

"Had a little accident, eh Harry?" he chortled. By this time Dudley had come to look at him and laugh too. "You'll need a new pair of Whitey Tighties then, here you are!" And with that Uncle Vernon swooped a pair of his underwear off the shelf and fitted it snugly around his ears. Harry struggled a little more desperately. Judging by Dudley's wristwatch, there was only ten minutes left until his bus came, and Harry could not miss it.

After they'd had a nice laugh at Harry their attention shifted to Dudley, who apparently was not going to go to school. Harry squirmed out of the knotted nightshirt and left it hanging there on the wet bed. He snatched at the underwear on his head and through it down the laundry chute. He could hear Uncle Vernon telling Dudley he only had five minutes until the school bus came... Harry dressed quickly and raced into the kitchen, burning his fingers as he tried to grab a slice of bacon from the sizzling pan. He didn't stop at the bathroom to comb his hair (it wasn't any use anyway), but ran straight to the door, and, snagging the shoulder strap of his backpack with his un-burnt hand, ran outside into the dazzling sunlight.

The bus had just pulled up when Harry reached the bus-stop. Dudley tried desperately to pull his bulk up the stairs without humiliating himself, but in the end the bus driver had to push from behind him to get him in far enough to shut the door. Harry slid in just before she zoomed away and took the front seat next to a boy in a Rugrats tee shirt.

Harry made a stab at conversation, asking the boy what his name was. In a clear voice the boy said his name was Joey and he wasn't supposed to talk to him.

'Typical,' thought Harry. 'Aunt Petunia would have told the whole town about me.'

As they drove into the school driveway Harry's hopes rose a little as he saw the flood of kids rushing in through the doors. There must be one who was allowed to socialize with Harry!