Harrry Rotter: chapter twoA children's story

I wrote this story, this skit, for a bit of fun, that's all, but so many of you emailed me. saying

how much you liked it, i just HAD to publish it. Happy reading. from the crazy-mad writer.

Arrrgh!!!

Chapter Two

Meet the Son

Over the course of the next few days, Harry settled in well at number twenty-three Dorsley Drive.

Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for her relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Privet’s beloved

son, Box. From the moment Harry laid eyes on his bespectacled face and wimpishly thin body,

she had taken a dislike to her cousin. Box, in turn, had taken an equally passionate a dislike to

Harry. Unfortunately, he was simply no match for her steely cunning and dogged determination to

get the better of him no matter what, and to make his very existence a living hell.

This clash of personalities put a terrible strain on Harry’s relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Privet,

who prided themselves in being open minded and understanding of the challenging behavior of all

growing children. And they tried; they tried so hard to ignore the many terrible things Harry

perpetrated upon their son, their only son. And she did so much to him; like knocking him down

the stairs, sprinkling salt over his porridge and removing all of the fuses from his electrical gadgets

and gizmos that he so loved.

In the end, Box avoided Harry like the plague. If he was out walking and saw her coming towards

him, he would make a mad dash into the nearest shop to avoid being anyway near her. If there

weren’t any shops nearby, he would scurry up the garden path of the nearest house, where he

would begin knocking frantically on its door, like his life depended on it.

At home, Box began spending more and more time in his bedroom, where he installed bolt after

bolt and lock after lock on its door, to protect him from Harry’s constant malevolent interference.

Bang, bang, bang! Every night they heard the sound of him sliding the bolts shut, before he retired

to the safety of his bed. He would do anything to avoid Harry, absolutely anything.

Harry, on the other hand, had no need for locks or bolts on her bedroom door, for who would

dare to enter it without asking her permission first? Although she had the run of the entire house,

and she certainly made good use of it whenever it so suited, Harry also began spending more and

more time in her room, but it was for a far different reason than her wimpishly thin cousin. Harry

had things to plan and to workout…

It was now several days since her escape from school, Hagswords, and even though Harry had

conjured up a mannequin, a replica of herself to try and hide the fact that she was actually missing,

she knew only too well that its effectiveness would soon wear off. And when it did, it would only

be a matter of time until the school authorities began tracking her down, following her trail until

they found her at twenty-three Dorsley Drive.

Harry had even considered using a spell of concealment, to try and disguise her whereabouts

when they actually did catch up with her, but she had decided that with all the comings and goings

in and out of the house its effectiveness would surely be compromised. The only way she could be

totally sure of effectiveness was to stop everyone entering or leaving, and she couldn’t do that,

could she?

Bang, bang, bang, another night had arrived and Box secreted himself safely within his bedroom,

away from his dreaded cousin, Harry.

In the quietness of her room, lying comfortably in bed, Harry was ruminating over the words she

was reading in a book, an old book that she had found hidden, secreted away, in the library at

school. “They are so stupid, in that school,” she hissed. “They call it a school for mysticism and

magic, more like a school for tolerance and fear. Fear of hurting the feelings of all those stupid

Muddles…. And far too much tolerance of them than is healthy. And as for the Principal…Hmm,

I’ll show him. I’ll show them all, including the Muddles, what I am capable of doing…” Harry

continued reading far into the night…

Next morning, Box jumped out of bed, determined to rush through his ablutions at the same

breakneck speed he had adopted since the arrival of his horrid cousin. He was hell-bent on

dashing downstairs, guzzling his breakfast, swilling down his tea, grabbing hold of his satchel and

then heading off to school, and all before Harry awoke.

After carefully, quietly sliding back the bolts on his bedroom door, Box opened it and peered

outside to see if the coast was clear.

“Hello,” Harry said ever so sweetly, less than three inches in front of his nose. “Did you sleep

well?”

“I, I,” Box stammered, at a loss for words, shocked that she was there in the first place, and even

more shocked that she was speaking so sweetly to him. He slammed the door shut.

Knock, knock. “Box, it’s me, Harry,” said Harry in the same sweet tone that had unsettled him

so. “Box, are you coming out today? I want to ask you something...”

Box, too afraid to speak, believing that his end was nigh, that his evil cousin was about to finish

him off once and for all, said nothing.

“Is that you, Box?” asked Mrs. Privet, shouting up the stairs.

“No, it’s me, Harry,” she said in the same sweet tone.

Mrs. Privet, shocked to see her up so early, returned to the kitchen and began preparing the fry-

up Harry insisted on having each morning. Then poking her head out of the kitchen door, she

asked, “Would you like to go out somewhere nice, today, like the zoo?”

It was a Saturday. Harry had been so drawn into her reading, her studying of the old book she

had lost all track of time.

Her mind spinning into action, Harry replied, “Yes, I would love to… But only if Box comes

along...”

At the kitchen table, peering out from behind his newspaper, Mr. Privet called his wife over, and

he said, “Now why did you have to go and ask her that?”

Harry Potter? No, silly, it's Harry ROTTER

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© Gerrard T Wilson 2008