Unusual Relaxation

[Vernon Dursley]

Vernon sat at his table, eating the pie that his Petunia had made him for breakfast. "You know dear, you do make a mean mince pie" he said in his raspy voice, cracking a smile and leaning back in his chair. It suddenly caught his attention that he was in an abnormally good mood for this time of year. The Potter boy was home from that crackpot school of his...and he wasn't doing any chores. It was the seventh day in a row that the Potter boy hadn't made a noise from his room. He was beginning to hope that the boy had eaten a poisonous plumpberry, or had accidentally blown himself up as he had done to Marge, but he knew that he could never be that lucky. The boy must be plotting. At this thought, Vernon put his fork down on his plate and squinted his beady eyes. His cheeks flushed red and he stood up from the table, his napkin falling to floor.

"Petunia, the boy is up to something" he said, swallowing the bite that he had already taken. "He hasn't said in a word in a week. He's been shut up in that room of his, and no complaints" Vernon said, facing his wife. "Perhaps we should stop feeding him" he said thoughtfully. "We could give his food to Dudley. Lord knows the boy needs more to eat. Look at him; he's almost flesh and bones" Vernon said, pointing to Dudley who was about as round as a beachball that had been blown up a bit too much and might be about to burst. "Harry Potter!" Vernon called, cupping his hands so that the sound of his voice would ring in the boy's room. He could not, and would not, stay locked in that room of his forever. There were rules in this house and the boy had not done any of his chores for a week. This would not stand any longer in Vernon's household. Not a day longer. "Get yourself down here or I'll come and get you myself!" he called again. But still...there was no answer.

[Harry Potter]

Harry, meanwhile, was in his room staring out the barred window. It had been so long since he had been out of this rubbish that he was beginning to forget what the outside world was like. Twenty-four/seven, he was stuck in his room, with only Hedwig for company, staring out the window or reading some muggle book. All of his possessions had been temporarily taken up until he 'got his act together'. Everyone knew that his act would only be together when he rejected his parents and his history and decided to forever leave magic and grow up as a stupid fat lard like his cousin, Dudley. And, even then, his act would only be half together. He would have to fall out of the window and kill himself for his aunt and uncle to like him. So, defeated andwithout any contact with the magical world, he sat and watched the sunrise in the east. It looked so much more tangible when he was at Hogwarts.

After a few minutes of sitting there minding his own business, he heard the disgusting sound of his bloody uncle's voice ringing throughout his room. Of course! He had forgotten to do something wrong since he had been here so Vernon had to create some mythical reason to yell at him. What sort of rubbish had he created this time? Had Harry knocked Dudley out with some made up spell? Had he knocked a window out with his wand? Or perhaps he had somehow slimmed Vernon down with his powers. Not even the most powerful magic could accomplish such a grimacing task as that. But, it would probably get his uncle's blood boiling just the same. For awhile he did not answer. His cheeks flushed because he knew that he had done nothing wrong. But after awhile of his uncle's insane yelling, he decided it was best to just give in for the time being. After all, he would be at Hogwarts soon. Or, at least, that's what he told himself. He really had a good two months left here.

"What?!" he asked, yelling down the stairs. The tone of his voice was bound to get him into more trouble than he would have before, but at this point he couldn't much help it. The Dursleys had made his life a living hell for close to seven years. Sometimes it was hard to keep his voice down.

[Vernon Dursley]

The tone of the Potter boy's voice only made Vernon's anger worsen. A vein in his neck suddenly bulged and audible noise of fury could be heard from deep in his throat. "How dare you talk to me that way Potter! After all that we've done for you! Petunia and I have risked disgrace from our family and our own sanity to keep you happy and this is how you repay us?! With your dastardly remarks and your ungracious tone! Why I oughta -" he stopped in the middle of his sentence as an owl came swooping in and pounded him straight in the face. As he lay on the floor, shocked and infuriated, he looked up at Harry and suddenly felt the need to get him out of his house. A rush of fury could be found in his voice as he yelled at the Potter boy to get out; to go to that bloody school of his and never come back. The need to physically tell the boy what he was feeling erupted in his fat body and he began to rush towards the stairs.

Vernon climbed each step with such a fast pace that he even amazed himself. When he got to the top of the stairs, he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and threw him to the ground at the steps of the room that had been so graciously given to him. "Listen boy, I am about to go to bed. The minute I wake up I am going to come up to this room. If I so much as smell that bloody owl of yours or see anything that you have left, I am going to come after you and let you know what I think about it" he said, spitting every ounce of anger from his mouth. "You will be gone. If not, I'll have you removed myself" said Vernon, beginning to act like a bit of a mad, rabid dog. With that last bit said, he turned around and began to walk down the stairs. Feeling that the boy didn't quite understand his anger, he turned around and kicked the boy once in the leg, then began to descend the stairs to his bedroom. What a day it had been. But the Potter boy would be gone in the morning, and this almost lightened his mood.