Harry Potter The Unseen Heroine

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror. I gave a small frown. Miss Figg was a old women who lived a few streets down. Every year on Dudley's birthday me and Harry were sent there. Harry hated it there, learning about the old ladies cats could be boring, and the house smelled of cabbages was rather off putting. But despite all that it was still an escape. Though she was boring, she had the one thing that me and Harry never received from the Dursley's.

Kindness.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at us, like somehow we'd planned this.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. Me and Harry both looked at each other horrified at the thought.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the both of them."

For the first time ever me and Harry were thankful for that.

The Dursley's kept going like we weren't there. They did this a lot, and though it could be annoying. At least we knew what would eventually happen to us.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave us here," Harry said hopefully. Obviously wanting to play Dudley's computer.

I knew the answer to that request before the words even left Petunia's mouth.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled at him.

"We won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave them in the car…"

Ah the Dursley's and child abuse. My favorite combination.

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to wail like he so often did when he wanted something to go his way, Aunt Petunia flung herself at the boy. Me and Harry once again gave each other a knowing look.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I… don't… want… them… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry and I a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

At that exact moment the doorbell rang.

"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" Aunt Petunia said frantically.

Soon enough Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss arrived with his mother. Like Dudley and the rest of his gang he bullied other. Mostly me and Harry, he'd usually hold the arms of the kids they bullied behind their backs. While Dudley did the punching. When Dudley saw Piers he stopped crying instantly.

After Piers mother left, and Vernon and Petunia not being able to figure anything else out to do with us, we were allowed to go. But not before Vernon pulled us both aside.

"I'm warning both of you," he had said, putting his large purple face right in front of ours "I'm warning you now — any funny business, anything at all — and both of you will be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…"

Vernon didn't believe Harry and stormed off. I looked at my brother sympathetically.

"There never going to like us Harry. Best to say as little as possible, try to survive until graduation, get good grades, get a good job. That was really the only way forward." I told him, he looked at me frustrated.

"There's a long time until then." He said sadly. I nodded.

"At least we can enjoy a day at the zoo."

Soon enough both of us were stuffed into the back of the car with Dudley and Pier's. I looked out the window and tried to avoid the glares of the two bullies, and listened to Uncle Vernon's rant's to Aunt Petunia. Today it was motorcycles.

"… roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook us.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry suddenly. "It was flying."

Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front of us, then when we stopped turned to Harry furiously.

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" He roared at Harry. Both Dudley and Pier's snickered.

"I know they don't," replied Harry. "It was only a dream."

I continued looking out the window and didn't say anything. Most of the time when I, or Harry spoke, it would end up like this. They hated us asking any questions, and hated us bringing up any dreams we had. Such as Harry of a flying motorcycle, or mine about whatever that was last night.