A Nundu for A Pet

A New Friend

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"Harry! Harry! Wake Up, Freak!" Dudley's high-pitched and grating voice stirred up a surge of irritation within Harry. Startled from his slumber as he jumped on top of the stairs that was the roof of Harry's cupboard, Harry's emerald eyes flickered open. His hand instinctively reached for the nearby eyeglasses perched atop a cracked and worn wooden shelf. As Dudley continued bouncing with careless abandon on the staircase above, the incessant tremors echoed throughout, causing dust particles to rain down in a gentle cascade, settling within the cramped confines of Harry's dreary cupboard.

Harry was certain one of these days the poor stairs wouldn't be able to hold him any longer, and his feet would sink in, Harry just hoped that when that day comes he wouldn't be inside, but outside, so he could laugh at him.

Harry sighed as he slowly rose from his bed, stretching his limbs and feeling the familiar ache in his tired muscles. Carefully, he delicately separated himself from the open book resting on his lap, momentarily interrupting his nightly reading ritual. As he did so, a flood of memories surged through his mind, reminding him of what he had been reading last night. The rest of the books were scattered haphazardly across the floor of his cramped cupboard, several other books strewn amidst the disarray.

Harry wasted little time wearing his clothes before walking out; once he did, he stretched out his limbs fully, letting out a loud yawn; the first thing he saw in the morning was his uncle stuffing his mouth with food and drinking while his aunt was smiling delightfully as if his uncle was breaking some record.

What a beautiful sight, Harry thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes almost to the back of his head.

"Harry, why did you wake up so late?" Aunt Petunia's voice reached his ears as she walked into the kitchen, bringing Harry's food—a plate with a Pimento Sandwich. Harry wondered why she even bothered asking. It is not like telling her the reason would have convinced her not to yell at him after answering.

"Well, I wanted to sleep, but this constant noise was just above me. For a moment, I thought a poor burglar had come to this house, but then I realized it was just the three of you snoring." Harry answered with a sly smile; his uncle's face went red with a mix of anger and embarrassment as he started coughing uncontrollably, desperately trying to clear his airway and inadvertently spitting out bits of beer and food that had been lodged in his mouth.

"What did you say about us?" His uncle shouted as he took deep breaths after coughing, his face somehow turning redder. Harry wondered if his uncle knew that he looked like a traffic light; all missing were his ears turning yellow and nose turning green.

"I said you three sleep like Bulldogs." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, not that he regretted it; it wasn't his fault that the three of them slept loud enough that the neighbors might think an explosion was constantly happening inside the house during the night.

"Do not try to make a fool of me, boy," He loomed over him like a giant; Harry looked up as his uncle tapped his chest with his fat fingers like sausages.

"Why would I need to do that? When you do it to yourself constantly." Harry said with a growing smirk; his uncle glared at him even more; he looked like he wanted to explode. Harry was certain he would need to get out of the city first if that were to happen.