Harry's Awful Birthday

Harry was standing over the stove cooking eggs when Uncle Vernon began shouting at him.

"Hurry up! I haven't got all bloody day! And where is my coffee?" he thundered.

Harry hurried to get his Uncle's coffee while Dudley banged his fork and knife on the table, howling with hunger.

Harry wonder dully whether they would notice that today was his ninth birthday. Probably not, said a small voice inside his head. They never celebrate your birthday. Harry set Uncle Vernon's coffee down in front of him and went back to the eggs. He set them out on plates along with bacon and toast and delivered them to the table.

Harry sank down into a kitchen chair. Maybe if he broached the subject they would at least remember that today was his birthday after all.

"I'm nine today," he said. "It's my birthday."

"Who cares about your stupid birthday?" Dudley said.

Uncle Vernon was glaring over the top of his newspaper.

"Go to your cupboard," he said irritably.

"But I haven't had any breakfast," Harry said.

"I don't care. Go to your cupboard," his uncle barked.

Harry left the table, went to his cupboard, and shut the door. He was fuming. Dudley always got loads of presents on his birthday and everyone made a big deal out of it. Harry curled up on his bed and stared at the cobwebs on the ceiling. He heard the front door slam as Uncle Vernon left for work. Then there was a great banging on his cupboard door.

"What do you want?" he said irritably, thinking that it was only Dudley trying to torment him.

"How dare you speak to me that way," Aunt Petunia snapped as the door swung open.

She was standing there wearing her usual apron and holding one of Uncle Vernon's leather belts. Harry suddenly felt fearful.

"What did I do now?" he asked.

"You didn't do the breakfast dishes," she said.

Harry tried to explain.

"But Uncle Vernon told me to-"

"That doesn't matter," Aunt Petunia said. "Now come out here and go into the sitting room."

Harry did as he was told. Aunt Petunia shut the drapes and said, "You know what to do."

Harry removed his shirt and knelt down. Aunt Petunia positioned herself behind him, arm raised, and then brought the belt down. It made a loud crack as it connected with Harry's bare back. He did not cry out. After nine years of various punishments such as this he had learned that screaming or crying would only earn him more pain. The belt connected again. Aunt Petunia was about to do it a third time when Dudley entered the room.

"Telephone for you mummy," he said.

"Get up and go do the dishes," Aunt Petunia barked and left the room.

Dudley stood there, framed in the doorway. He watched as Harry put his shirt on and stood up.

"What do you want?" Harry said as he tried to squeeze by.

Dudley sneered at him.

"Dad says you're no better than a common servant," he said with a snicker.

He pretended he hadn't hear and went into the kitchen to start the dishes. When Aunt Petunia was done gossiping on the phone she gave Harry a list of chores to do. He was forced to weed the garden, wash the car, dust the entire house, and do several loads of laundry. This lasted until Uncle Vernon came home in a towering temper.

"Boy!" he screamed.

Harry, who had been hanging clothes on the line, heard and went into the house. Uncle Vernon did not make any excuses for his actions. He promptly backhanded Harry across the face. Harry fell backwards, reeling from the blow. Uncle Vernon began kicking him savagely. Harry felt an agonizing pain his side as Uncle Vernon kicked him in the ribs. He curled up in a ball, trying to avoid getting seriously Uncle Vernon had tired of taking his anger out on Harry he threw the boy into the closet and locked the door.

What a rotten birthday this turned out to be, Harry though as he pulled himself onto his bed. I wish someone would come and take me away from here…

The End