Elizabeth Lily Potter: The Girl Who Lived

Chapter 2: Chores

THERE IS A TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH VIOLENCE/ABUSE.
It begins with the paragraph that starts with: "Within a minute..."

I walked into the kitchen with Harry right behind me. I could hear Aunt Petunia taking a shower upstairs. There was a sheet of paper on the counter with a list of chores that needed to be done. The Dursleys let us divide them up however we want, as long as they were done perfectly and on time.

I got started on breakfast while Harry set the table. The eggs and bacon were frying while he poured the coffee into Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's mugs. He had just filled Dudley's glass of milk when we heard the sound of the newsboy throwing the morning paper at the door. Harry ran outside to get it and placed it right next to our Uncle's plate while I rushed to serve the food.

As soon as we turned around, we saw the Dursleys walking in through the kitchen door. We pushed their chairs out so that they could sit, and then pushed them in (with some difficultly with Uncle Vernon and Dudley). As they began to eat like pigs (minus Aunt Petunia, the only one of the three with some manners), Harry and I got started on our other chores, trying to ignore our growling stomachs.

He did the dishes while I went outside to start weeding the garden. Within a few minutes, the Dursleys finished eating. Aunt Petunia went upstairs to do her makeup and get ready before going to one of the neighbor's homes to gossip, Uncle Vernon sat to watch the morning news in the living room, and Dudley went to play on his computer upstairs.

Through the open kitchen window that looks out at the garden, Harry passed me the crunchy edge of the fried egg that was left on a plate. I gladly accepted, having not eaten anything since lunch yesterday (I'd given Harry what little dinner I had gotten. He needed it more than I did). However, I couldn't take it all for myself. I broke the brittle piece of barely-edible egg and gave him half. Not wanting to get the other in trouble, we didn't say anything, but touched each other's hand to say "thank you."

Within a minute, I heard a crash and a faint gasp. I jumped up and run into the kitchen. What I saw in front of me made my stomach twist in knots: Harry dropped a glass, which shattered all over the kitchen floor. Uncle Vernon yelled "POTTER!" and we could hear the stomping of his feet. I had mere seconds to make a decision.

Rushing forward, I grabbed Harry's arm and pushed him in the direction of the back door. He looked at me and shook his head "no." Not having time to argue, I glared at him, jerked my head, and mouthed "now!" He looked at me sadly, but obeyed, silently running out into the yard. The second the back door closed, the one that leads into the kitchen opened.

I silently hoped to God that Harry couldn't see or hear any of this, and that he wouldn't try to intervene. I also prayed that Uncle Vernon wouldn't pay attention to the fact that Harry had been in the kitchen, not me. But it seemed that he was too furious to notice, as he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me towards him. The movement was so rough and fast that my feet were literally lifted off the ground.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" He shouted, "AFTER EVERYTHING WE HAVE DONE FOR YOU AND YOUR GOOD-FOR-NOTHING BROTHER, YOU DESTROY OUR PROPERTY?!?!" Spit was flying out his mouth and hitting me straight in the face, but I knew better than to flinch.

He shoved me away from him and I stuck my hands out behind me in an attempt to break my fall as I flew backwards. I hit the floor hard, banging the back of my head on a kitchen cabinet. My palms and arms were covered in bleeding cuts from the broken shards of glass. Uncle Vernon grabbed my upper arm and, with more than enough strength to leave a nasty bruise, lifted me up again.

He slapped me across the cheek hard enough that I was knocked down again. I could feel a bleeding cut on my cheek from his wedding band. I wondered, how much longer is this going to go on?

Suddenly, we both heard the voice of Aunt Petunia, unaware of what was going on below her. My uncle look up, waiting for her to speak. "Vernon, dear," she called, "would you mind coming up here for a moment? I need someone to zip up my dress."

He glared at me again, pure hatred emanating from every feature. "Clean. This. Mess. NOW," he growled, in a terrifying voice barely above a whisper. I nodded as he stomped out of the room and trudged upstairs.

I quickly set to work, grabbing the broom and dustpan. The last thing I wanted right then was for Uncle Vernon to get angrier....