Girl Who Survived: Book Two {Harry Potter: Order of Phoenix}

[Chapter Three: The Advance Guard]

We'd probably wake up tomorrow to three fat letters full of sympathy and plans for our immediate removal. Harry soon passed out, and I followed suit.

*

But Hedwig didn't return next morning. Harry and I spent the day in his bedroom, he, leaving it only to go to the bathroom, me, leaving only for an hour at broad daylight to get food. Three times that day Petunia shoved food into Harry's room through the cat-flap Harry said Vernon had installed three summers ago. Every time Harry heard her approaching he tried to question her about the Howler, but he might as well have interrogated the doorknob for all the answers he got. Normally, when I heard footsteps, I'd just hide in Harry's cluttered wardrobe. Otherwise, the Dursleys kept well clear of his bedroom. I couldn't see the point of forcing our company on them; another row would achieve nothing except perhaps make me so angry I'd perform more illegal magic.

So it went on for three whole days. I was alternately filled with restless energy that made me unable to settle to anything, during which time I wrote letters (Just to expel energy, never to be sent.), furious at the whole lot of them for leaving Harry and I to stew in this mess; and with a lethargy so complete that I could lie on his chair for an hour at a time, staring dazedly into space, aching with dread at the thought of the Ministry hearing.

What if they ruled against us? What if we were expelled and our wands were snapped in half? What would I do, where would I go?

On the fourth night after Hedwig's departure Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling. I just stared at him, debating whether or not talking to him would be a good idea. Simba suddenly let out a quiet growl. I strained my ears, knowing the jungle-cat heard something. The porky steps of Vernon slowly became louder.

I scooped up Simba and jumped into Harry's wardrobe. My breathing was low and shallow; I was making an enormous effort not to be heard. I was looking through a crack in the wardrobe door.

Harry looked slowly around at him. Vernon was wearing a nice suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

"We're going out," he said.

"Sorry?"

"We - that is to say, your aunt, Dudley and I - are going out."

"Fine," said Harry dully, looking back at the ceiling. 

"You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away."

"Okay."

"You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions."

Yeah, right! I thought to myself, I'm going to play Frisbee with your music records and pee on the Persian rug!

"Right."

"You are not to steal food from the fridge."

"Okay."

"I am going to lock your door."

"You do that."

Vernon glared at Harry, clearly suspicious of this lack of argument, then stomped out of the room and closed the door behind him. I heard the key turn in the lock and Vernon's footsteps walking heavily down the stairs. A few minutes later I heard the slamming of car doors, the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakable sound of the car sweeping out of the drive. Finally deciding it was safe, I stepped out of the wardrobe, and allowed Simba back to the floor.

"Where do you think they went?" I asked curiously, sitting beside Harry on his bed.

"I don't know, what difference would it make?" He snapped.