Harry & Katherine Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

“Oh, Dudders!” Shrieked Aunt Petunia. It sounded mousey, and she looked it too. Pointy nose, small eyes, blonde curly hair, slightly kept short, and she was tiny all the way around. Height, weight, you name it.

She walked up to Harry. They were almost a level height. It was disappointing. She turned pink instead of purple, like Uncle Vernon. I could see her rumbling in fury. And I shrunk back, but there was no way that I would let Harry get blamed for all that.

The room seemed to fade to gray, only Harry and Aunt Petunia in color. Dudley's massive whines reduced to a squeak, and I seemed to get a chill. I was tuned in to Aunt Petunia. Her hand was viper-like and grabbed Harry's face quickly (Did I mention she had LONG nails?) and strongly. I could see his skin turn white where her nails dug in. In a couple spots, I could see Harry's skin peel up. To see Harry get punished was like taking a toothpick, putting it under your big toe's toenail, and then kicking a wall as hard as you can. And to hear Aunt Petunia yell at him was like watching her yell at a puppy. You just don't do it.

And then all of a sudden, there was an extremely loud SMACK! that was heard all around the house and rang in you ears. I closed my eyes tightly, and when I opened my eyes, there was a bright, perfectly etched, red handprint on his right cheek. Harry put a hand over his cheek and pulled his head back. I scurried in front of him.

“Aunt Petunia,” I said, hold my hands out in front of me. “I did most of this, I swear, don't punish him!” And Aunt Petunia gave me a red hand to sport as well. She shoved both of us aside and ran carefully into Dudley's room, almost tripping over the web that I had made. One last feather from Harry landed on her head and she didn't notice. I giggled and Harry stifled a laugh.

“Oh, Dudders, Diddliy-Dumpkin!” She crooned to her son. “Are you okay?” In her session of 'motherly love' Harry and I quietly snuck out of the scene and downstairs to our cupboard. Well, more of a cabinet, but who really cares? (Pffft, I do.)

Harry threw open a backpack. “Katherine, we have to get out of here before she files a lawsuit against us!” I began to cram everything I had into the backpack, which wasn't too much. Harry continued spazzing. “I hear that the life of a preteen and teen is the time to have the time of your life! So not the time of my life. How 'bout you?”

“Nope! Keep packing!” I said still shoving everything into the backpack. Then there was a knock on our cupboard door. “Come....Out.” It snarled.

Harry locked the door and opened the door flaps, so we could see out.

Satan's sister was standing outside our door. Yaaaay.

Harry looked her straight in the eyes, green to blue. “Nope.” That was brave, I thought. She still stood there. “You two are to go upstairs and clean up that mess. I expect the room to be spotless when we all get home. Dudley is in the shower. Don't disturb him.”

“Didn't plan to.” Harry growled. Aunt Petunia said one more thing. “Tomorrow is his birthday. As much as he doesn't want you to go, you have to go with us to the zoo.”

“Oh, great fun.” Harry hissed to her.

* * * *

Harry and I were picking up each individual feather one by one and had already presoaked Dudley's sheets and pillow case and thrown them in the washer. “Okay, which one of us thought we wouldn't have gotten caught?” Harry asked as we finished up the feathers. Harry began working on the whoopee cushions and I was unraveling the spiderweb. When I came over to unhook it from the window cranks, I noticed something that's not usually supposed to be there. An owl. Two.

One was grey and the other one was black. They circled once and then left. “Harry!” I exclaimed to him. “Harry, two owls were just outside!” Then the familiar clink! of of the mail slot closing filled our ears. Like usual, the mail came. Not usual: It was only 7:00 A.M. Weird much?

Harry pounded down the stairs and scooped up the letters. I could see a shadow in the doorway. Aunt Petunia was about to leave with Dudley, but hadn't left yet. And she was leaving. Now. With Harry and the peculiar letters in front of her.

“Harry, what are those doing here now?” She questioned Harry, with her eyes focused on him. She snatched them up and began to go through them, stacking them one behind the other. “Bills, Petunia, Vernon, Vernon, more bills, Vernon, Harry, Katherine, Petun---Harry? Katherine?!” She nearly spat out our names.

“What are these!?” She screeched, with 'what' coming out as 'vhut'. “Dudders, go back upstairs, your skipping today. I have to phone Vernon...” Harry stared long and hard at the door she was walking towards. The moment she was about to walk through, the door whammed shut. Petunia let the letters fly and she ducked for cover.

Whoa, I thought. Can I do that too? I focused on the door like Harry had, only trying to will it to open. “Door open...Door open...Door open...” I muttered almost inaudible. And just like that, the door silently opened. Aunt Petunia's eyes flickered from Harry to me. Harry to me. “You two are freaks! You're just like her!” Harry blinked. “Her?” “Her!” Aunt Petunia said, standing scurrying to the kitchen for the phone.

As the phone was ringing, she gestured for us to sit down in the living room. Harry and I looked each other over. Pixie dust? Leprechaun magic? What was it that made that door swing closed and quietly open? It closed with a rather bold swing, but opened like a cunning little child was swiftly moving through the house to steal a cookie.

“What was that?” I whispered to him. Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “Pffft, I could ask you the same thing!” He yell-whispered back. “Is she holding the letters?” I asked him. “Yup.” Harry nodded, sighing.

She stepped back into the room. “Children, Uncle Vernon is coming home to see these letters and you two are not to move from that spot until he's back. So basically, that meant watch whatever Dudley's watching, look out the window, look at the calender, and stare at each other. We've had this punishment before: we were NOT allowed to talk. Harry picked the window, and I picked the calendar. It's not like we're allowed to watch TV anyways.

May 1st, 2011. The calender read. It was one of those calendars that you tear off a page every day. It was Smeltings themed, so it made it extra boring. Even when Dudley put on his uniform and carried his cane and flaunted absolutely everything he's got to annoy us.

An hour finally passed, and then the front door creaked open. Uncle Vernon was home. Here we go.