HARRY POTTER AND THE DESPICABLE DURSLEYS

BY

HEATHER PAYNE (Over 14)

'I don't see why we couldn't have gone on a foreign holiday,' whinged Dudley through a mouthful of marshmallows whilst manoeuvring his bulk through the luxury caravan. 'It's cold and uncomfortable here.'

Uncle Vernon glanced up from his newspaper. He had been reading about the poor demand for Grunnings drills. He grunted.

'Next year son. We'll just have to rough it for now.'

Mrs Dursley sniffed resentfully. Then the corners of her mouth curled upwards as she looked towards the side window.

Outside, annexed to the caravan was a rain-soaked, patched and ancient one-man tent. Harry lay inside staring up at a small area of canvas which was gradually sinking towards him. The weight of collecting rainwater had brought it close to his face.

He had been banished from the caravan when Dudley insisted that Hedwig made him sneeze. Hedwig now hooted sympathetically and Harry forced a tiny smile. He gazed in fascination at the bellied patch of canvas. It rippled lightly when the wind blew across the surface of the water outside. He raised his hand a little to give it a gently prod, but before he even touched it, the icy water burst through. He gasped with shock and shook his head, spraying Hedwig with the icy droplets. She hooted just as loudly as Harry yelled. 'What's all that disgraceful racket?' Uncle Vernon ground the words out between gritted teeth.

'Do keep your voice down,' hissed Aunt Petunia, smiling falsely to the occupants of the neighbouring caravan, who were peering at them suspiciously, 'I told them we were looking after someone's sick dog.' 'What?' growled Uncle Vernon rubbing his jaw after the excessive grinding of teeth, 'You wouldn't put a sick dog in there!' He pointed at his sore jaw, pulled a face, then sighed with relief as the stony-faced holidaymakers withdrew. He threw a used towel towards Harry and filled a hot water bottle to soothe his jaw.

The towel was of little use to Harry. He felt damp and wretched. Gazing through the torn canvas, at the full moon, he wondered how Professor Lupin was these days. He was the only werewolf Harry had ever known. Perhaps the professor had enough potion to stop him changing these days. His thoughts wandered wearily, then Hedwig snuggled up to him warmly. He drifted into a fitful sleep. Only to be awoken on the stroke of midnight by a searing pain in his scar. He would have sat bolt upright, his head ripping through the tattered canvas, if it hadn't been for the incredible weight holding down his chest. It was Dudley! What was Dudley doing in this tiny tent at midnight?

Dudley grunted fatly and whispered impatiently, 'Stay still or else!' he heaved his bulk into a crawling position, 'I'm taking a sample of your scar to analyse at school. I'll find out what you really are, and probably win a scientific prize too …'

Harry's eyes flashed in horror to a needle clutched in Dudley's sausage-like fingers. His hand flew to the trickle of blood produced by Dudley's blundering efforts. Rage welled up in him instantly and he yelled, 'Hagrid must have given you a pig's brain when he gave you that tail.'

Fear flooded Dudley at the memory of it. His left hand clutched at his head while his right hand, it seemed to Harry, began moving in slow motion. Still holding the needle, Dudley's right hand made a wonderfully slow arc, as it headed precisely for his bottom. He yelled as the needle sank in, and as Harry laughed mightily, something strange happened to Dudley's voice. It seemed to swell to a quite remarkable roar. A familiar roar at that. But as Dudley's mouth suddenly closed, the pair realised that it had been Uncle Vernon, who was now racing for the car. Strangled squawks were still coming from his direction . 'Quickly,' cried Aunt Petunia, 'we need a dentist urgently. Your father has a broken tooth. He's in agony. Oh..' she faltered as she saw Harry getting into the car and was forced to remember that he existed, 'well I suppose you'd better come along, but you're not bringing THAT!' She motioned towards a disgusted Hedwig.

Aunt Petunia clashed the gears as the car moved off, and she joined Uncle Vernon's groans, as she spotted the neighbouring couple surveying them with narrowed eyes. Harry's eyes widened as he realised that even Ron was a better driver than his aunt. The headlight beams wavered through the inky night as they bumped their way out of the rutted field. Thinking of Ron made Harry feel lonely, but he glimpsed a flash from Hedwig's eye as she flew alongside, and felt a little comforted. Not for long! They whooshed past a large 'SLOW DOWN' sign. The tyres screeched around a bend. A very bold sign told them that eighty-nine people had been killed on this road in the last twelve months. BRRRMM!

. 'This road?' Aunt Petunia suddenly pointed, and shrank away as Uncle Vernon wailed again. He stabbed wildly with his finger, towards a Victorian house displaying a brass plate.

Minutes later the four were huddled miserably in the white glare of the dental surgery. The husband-and-wife dentists bravely attempted to be courteous, despite the ungracious awakening they had just received from the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was agitated and his eyes constantly roved around. What was the title of that book on the shelf? The Standard Book of Spells? Surely not! The pain must be getting to him. He looked at Aunt Petunia but chose to say nothing. She seemed tense already. As he glanced at a half-glazed door he saw, through the slats of a blind, a pair of eyes watching him closely. The chill he felt from the rain made him shiver, but he promptly looked back at the door. The watchful eyes were no longer there.

'How much longer?' he snarled so nastily that the lady dentist lost sympathy. 'I am doing my utmost to hurry things along,' she said rather haughtily, 'but given the lateness of the hour and the fact that I have had a little trouble with this aspirator …'

'Never mind that,' choked Uncle Vernon, purpling rapidly, 'just do something NOW!' He glanced around, checking the door again. 'Did you hear that?' he barked at Aunt Petunia, 'someone's laughing behind that door. YOU!' he yelled at Harry, 'go and see who's there and while you're at it go and check that brass plate outside. I want some credentials.'

The dentist spoke gravely to Aunt Petunia.

'I'm afraid he'll have to be sedated.' She left the room for a moment. Long enough to watch Harry's face through the window as he saw the name on the brass plate. Granger! Could it really be Hermione's parents? His face shone with absolute delight.

Hermione's father calmed Uncle Vernon and insisted that Aunt Petunia and Dudley should return to the waiting room. Hermione's mother smiled at Uncle Vernon as his eyelids tried to close. He wanted one last look at that door, and visibly relaxed when he saw nothing unusual. Feeling more contented, he looked for another smile from the dentist, but she wasn't there! Nor was her husband! Wearing her robes and pointed hat, Hermione smiled wickedly as Uncle Vernon fought in vain to keep his eyes open. As he passed out the last thing he saw was a wand being raised right in front of his nose.

'You must stay with us, Harry, for the remainder of the holiday,' said Mrs Granger, who was peering through the blind of the half glazed door. Her look of horrified fascination as she watched the Dursley family secretly pleased Harry. Aunt Petunia and Dudley consoled Uncle Vernon, as though he were a child who had had a bad dream.

Mr Granger turned to Harry with a cheery grin.

'There's a feathered friend of yours outside, who's welcome to make a holiday home in the utility room.'

Harry thought Mrs Granger didn't look so sure about this.

'The shed will be just fine,' he said, knowing that the Dursleys would have said the very same about him.

'And Hermione, what were you doing with your wand? You had me worried then.'

'I HAD intended to worry your uncle, not you,' Hermione's voice was indignant at the mention of Harry's uncle.

'Of course, I should have liked to turn him into a bullfrog, but he does quite resemble one already!'

Everyone laughed, and as the Dursleys turned to frown upon the sound of good cheer, Dudley lost control of the aspirator he had been fiddling with. The suction caught on tight to Uncle Vernon's lip, and as Dudley heaved to free it, he pulled his father's face into a comically contorted expression.

The laughter turned into helpless hilarity, and Harry summoned up every bit of his concentration to keep that picture in his mind. Now his holiday was really starting.