Harry Potter The Unseen Heroine

No one dared argue and soon enough we forced our way passed the boarded-up doors. It was so bad that Dudley had been hit by Vernon for holding them up, he had tried to bring his Television, VCR, and computer. Soon enough we were on the highway. I got out my book and read some more, though every time Vernon did a sharp turn and mutter, "Shake 'em off… shake 'em off," I would annoyingly lose my place.

However despite all that I was still able to finish the book, and start it again. Seeing as we hadn't stopped anywhere all day it wasn't hard to do. Dudley was miserable, he'd never missed so much as one television show in his life. To miss five was torture to the boy, not to mention no video games, nor any food.

The poor boy.

Finally we stopped at a gloomy hotel on the outskirts of some big city. Dudley and Harry shared a twin bed, while I slept on the couch. Still, though Dudley's snores I could see Harry sitting on the windowsill.

Like me, here was wondering what in the world was going on.

The next morning, after just finishing our breakfast of stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes, the owner of the hotel came over to us.

"'Scuse me, but are any of you Mr. H. or Miss. S. Potter? I got hundreds of these at the front desk."

She held up a pair of letters so we could read the green ink address:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Mine said the same except for the name. Harry tried to grab his letter, but Uncle Vernon smacked his hand away as the women stared.

"I'll take them," Uncle Vernon said He then stood quickly and followed her from the dining room.

The hours ticked on, and we were back on the road again. Aunt Petunia had tried to get Vernon to stop. "Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" she had asked him. He didn't seem to respond.

I was getting more and more worried for Vernon's mental health. He had driven into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, then got back in the car and drove again. He did this three more times, in the middle of a plowed field, the middle of a suspension bridge, and atop a multilevel parking garage.

Eventually we found our way to the coast. Uncle Vernon had parked, locked us in the car and then vanished.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia.

I had finished Mary Poppins three times on this trip, and even that was unappealing know. So I looked out the window as it began to pour. What could be so horrible that the Dursley's had to keep it away from us?

"It's Monday," Dudley continued ranting to Aunt Petunia. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday? Today was Monday, that meant tomorrow was Tuesday. Our eleventh birthday, even if our birthday's weren't fun, I had gotten that painful comb last year. Still another year gone by, another year closer to leaving the Dursley's.

Uncle Vernon reappeared, he was smiling madly and was carrying a long thin package. He ignored Aunt Petunia's question of what it was.

"Found the perfect place!" he said excitedly. "Come on! Everyone out!"

We all piled out of the car into the cold and saw Uncle Vernon pointing at large rock out in the sea, on top of which sat a small, shack. One thing was certain, Dudley would miss The Great Humberto.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" Vernon continued gleefully as he clapped his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

An old man with no teeth came wobbling up to us. With a wicked grin, he pointed down to a rowboat in the grey looking water.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

The boat ride was miserable, water kept splashing onto us. We were all cold and wet. I was now very curious who's the letter were from. Finally we arrived on the rock and Vernon led the way into the shack as he barely avoided falling.

The first thing I noticed when he opened the door was the smell of seaweed, wind was easily able to blow into the shack through the cracks in the walls, and the fire was not going to start.

The ration's Vernon had acquired turned out to be a bag of chips each, and four bananas. Like I predicted the fire didn't start, the used chip bags just shriveled up. Though Vernon didn't seem to care. In fact he was cheerful.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" He said, obviously the happiest he'd been in several hours. The reason of which was obvious.

He thought the letters couldn't get here. Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't. Still, we weren't going to be able to stay here forever. I wondered how many letters were stacked in the house back on Privet Drive?

Night arrived and the storm got worse. After sleeping on a real bed the last few nights, I was disappointed that me and Harry were forced onto the cold, hard, dirt floor. With only a small thin blanket apiece. Dudley slept on the moth ridden couch, while Vernon and Petunia slept in the other room.

As midnight approached me and Harry finally had a chance to talk.

"Who do you think is behind these letters?" He asked me.

"I have theories." I replied, Harry looked at me curiously.

"Like?"

"Child services, stalkers. Really though, I'm just as lost as you."

As midnight approached on Dudley's wrist watch. The talk turned from the letters, to what we wanted for our birthday.

"Books." I replied simply. Harry snorted.

"You say that every year." He replied.

"When reading is the only form of entertainment you've ever known. You get attached to it."

"I guess."

"What do you want?" I asked. As the sounds outside continued. "The roof not to collapse." I added as I looked up the the ceiling.

"Just...a better life. To get away from this, that's why I want to see those letters. Maybe they'd be good for us."

"Well, wish hard. Our birthday is in ten seconds."

Harry looked at the watch. And the moment the clock turned to midnight, July Thirty First.

BOOM.

The whole shack shook, Harry bolted upright, and I had to hold in a muffled scream.

Someone was at the door.