Harry's Twin - Book One // Complete // Editing

It's Monday

"I barely got a wink of sleep last night," I sigh to my brother.

Harry laughs. "It was just as bad for me. When you actually feel asleep, all you did was kick. I'll have bruises up and down my legs!"

After all, Harry and I did end up sharing a bed. I felt sorry for him being squished in the other one, so I told him to hop in with me. "It was leg bruises, or Dudley flattening you. You should be happy with what you got," I joke.

For breakfast, we have stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast. Almost as soon as we finish our meal, the hotel owner drifts over to out table.

"Do we have a Mr. H. Potter here?" she asks. "Also, is a Ms. L. Potter? I got about a hundred letters for each of 'em dropped off at the main desk."

She holds up the letters. On mine, written in the same emerald green ink is,

"Ms. L. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth"

I reach out to grab it but Vernon knocks my hand away. He does the same to Harry when he tries a second later. The hotel owner looks at Vernon oddly.

Vernon clears his throat. "I will take them, thank you," he says, raising from his seat and following the lady away. Petunia sends a glare my way as I go to follow him. I sit down, huffing angrily.

-----

Hours later, Petunia finally plucks up the courage to challenge Vernon. "Dear, wouldn't it be better just to go home?" She says it timidly, but at least it was said. Uncle Vernon doesn't seem to hear her. 

None of us know the precise place he's looking for. In fact, it's likely that Vernon himself had no clue. He drives us out to a forest, gets out of the car, looks around, shakes his head, jumps back in and keeps driving. It happens again and again, in the middle of a field, halfway across a suspension bridge and on the top level of a multi-storey parking lot. He stops again on the coast. This time, after hopping out, he locks us all in. He disappears.

"Dad's gone crazy, hasn't he?" Dudley whimpers pathetically from the back seat. He holds his hands over his face and his head is turned in the direction Vernon scampered off to.

"You've only just noticed?" I mutter, earning a smile from Harry.

It starts to rain. It rains heavily, large drops pelting the car. Dudley begins to snivel. "It's Monday," he tells his mother. "The Great Humberto is on tonight! I want to stay somewhere with a television!"

Monday . . . it's Monday. I can confidently say that Dudley's correct, as these people always know what day of the week it is because of what's on the television. So, it's Monday today, then tomorrow is Tuesday. And Tuesday is Harry and I's eleventh birthday. Of course, our birthdays suck. Last year, Harry got an old pair of Vernon's socks and I got a ball of rubber bands. But still, it's the day I share with my best friend, so it's important to me. Besides, it's not like you turn eleven everyday, right?

Vernon gets back eventually. He's carrying a long, thin package, but he doesn't answer his wife when she asks what's inside. Instead he says happily, "Found the perfect place. Come on, everyone!" He's cheerful. Too cheerful.

It was freezing outside of the car. Harry and I wrap our arms around each other, trying to keep the little warmth that we had. Uncle Vernon was pointing to a rock far of in the distance, glee written all over his face. I'm not sure if what I'm seeing is correct, but I think that perched on the rock is a house of some sort. Maybe a shack . . . either way, there's no way I'm going in there.