𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨 [𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙖 𝘿𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙮]

CHAPTER III

THE ORDEAL OF THE LETTERS WOULD NOT easily leave me; even after Harry was shipped off to his magical school I was still hit with waves of remembrance.

Vernon had taken us to a very lone island in the middle of what I presumed was nowhere, and had sworn with all his might that not another letter would be able to reach us from there. We had little food, and frothy waves kept crashing threateningly against the rickety wooden walls of the shack we were staying in.

I very nearly lost my patience, but managed to contain myself, only because I was struck by the thought that maybe this was what I deserved for being such a grouch to my sister. But then, of course, that well-nurtured patience came to an abrupt end the moment Hagrid - a giant brute who then proceeded to reveal everything to Harry - broke down our door. 

 It was like a surge of sickening resentment washing over me. I said all the words I had been holding back since Lily's eleventh birthday, when she first got her stupid Hogwarts letter. I furiously explained how jealous I had been of my precious, special sister, who had turned out to be... abnormal. 

 Try, if you can, to imagine how I felt. Try, if you can, to imagine what it felt like to be so jealous of someone, someone close to you, that you can't describe it, only to have them disappear in a moment. Try to put yourself in my shoes and listen deep inside of you for Lily's voice telling you about a wonderful new school she goes to, and all the wonderful new friends she's made, all because she has magic in her.

It was, undoubtedly, the most resentful moment of my life, to have lost control and said such things about my dead sister. But I couldn't help it.

* * *

When we got back, Harry left the house a few times to go shop for his new school things. Naturally, Vernon and I had had to provide school supplies for Dudley as well as Harry – pencils, rulers, erasers, normal stationery. But watching Harry walk in lugging a large rucksack containing robes and a cauldron and a wand; that forced a large amount of bile up my throat and made my chest feel pinched and condensed.

For the next few days we all tiptoed around Harry – whether out of fear or the lack of feeling inclined to associate ourselves with him, I am not sure.

  Dudley was prone to whimpering uncontrollably whenever Harry came down for dinner, so we had to set different eating times for him and for us. Vernon's muttering became more and more frequent, but his mood slowly got better and better. Perhaps it was because Harry would be leaving for the next ten months, or perhaps it was because Vernon had a nasty suspicion that once Harry joined a wizarding school he would end up with a fate like that of his parents.

The thought always made me sick, that Vernon could talk about such things. It wasn't much of an open, over-the-dinner-table conversation, but more of a finishing sentence to a late night argument or a brief discussion early in the morning before getting out of bed.

And secretly, I resented him for every single word.