𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐃𝐎𝐌

Chapter 1

Harry wiped the drops of sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his oversized t-shirt, but it didn't do much good. The soggy shirt was saturated with a days worth of sweat. Damn, it was hot. Crossing his arms and tugging the t-shirt up and over his head, he closed his eyes briefly to relish the feel of fresh air hitting his tired body. Harry tossed the shirt over a freshly built handrail of the back deck he was working on. Harry's Uncle Vernon had decided that a nice little deck on the back of the house would be a wonderful addition to their home. Remembering when the estimates of the job had come in the mail, Harry just knew that the blue vein in Vernon's forehead would burst when he saw the cost.

"No way in hell I'm paying those shoddy bums that much!" Vernon had grumbled. "Look at this" he continued as he thrust the paper into Petunia's hands and pointed to it. "...and that much is for the labor alone!"

Petunia squinted at the numbers on the page and looked up. "Vernon, the Polkisses have had their sundeck for about two years. As I remember it, Gladys said that John had done a lot of the work himself, and the cost was minimal. Maybe we could ask her if...."

"Ha! That lazy waste of a man?" Vernon snapped as he curled his lips in a snarl. "Hmmmph! He doesn’t have two cents worth of brains. He'd screw it all up and I've already paid for the blueprint plans for the deck." Vernon continued his mumbling as he made his way to the sofa while Petunia was clearing the dinner dishes off the table. "...costing that much...what we need around here is some free labor...." Vernon’s face lit up as the dawn of an idea broke. "PETUNIA!" he shouted.

"Vernon, are you alright?" Petunia came scrambling into the den almost tripping on the rug.

"I've got the perfect plan," he drawled at the questioning look on her face. "It's time for that miserable piece of shit to make himself useful around here. He's been lying around like a king for a week, buried in those stupid books, and closed up in his room." Vernon's eyes sparkled at the thought of getting free work out of anybody. He rounded to Petunia with an evil grin. "The fresh air will do him some good."

Well, that was almost a week ago. The lumber had been delivered and the plans were laid out on a sheet of ply board between two rails so that Harry could read them. For the last two summers Harry had helped Mr. Bell from number 7 Privet Drive with odd jobs occasionally, and a few of those had been carpentry. Harry really liked working with the wood and kneading it with his hands. The feeling of great accomplishment it gave him to finish a project was really worth more than the bit of cash he got, well that, and the opportunity to be out of the house and away from Dudley. Harry had been almost glad when Uncle Vernon had made him build the deck, but he would never tell his uncle that. Nothing that made Harry happy could ever be allowed to exist in the Dursley’s home.

The deck was almost complete with only a few side rails left to attach. It was after six o'clock and Harry heard the back screen open. His head popped up to see his aunt, with arms folded, and spoke to him through gritted teeth.

"Get washed up! You're not sitting at the dinner table smelling like you do." Then, just as quickly, she had turned back into the kitchen.

After retrieving all the scattered tools and placing them into the shed, putting away the nail bucket, and moving a few stray wood scraps, Harry walked up onto the deck, inspecting it and smiled at his accomplishment. It was almost finished. He beamed a large smile and walked into the kitchen.

After shutting the screen as quietly as he could and turning around...WHAM! A large, beefy, hand smacked his left upper jaw and his eye sending him tumbling over a counter whose edge slammed hard into his ribcage as his cheek hit the corner of the top cabinet. Upon hitting the floor with his eyes tightly shut, the full shot of hot pain ran thru his body and his eyes flickered open to find a fist and a fat finger pointing directly at his nose.