Harry Potter's Bastard

The weather was getting hotter, and the big, boxy houses on Privet Road were shrouded in a drowsy silence. The cars that were usually bright and shiny are now all parked in the driveway, and the once verdant grass has turned yellow. Watering hoses have been banned due to drought conditions. The inhabitants of Privet Road had their usual pastimes of wiping their cars and mowing the lawn, neither of which could be done, so they had to take refuge in their shady houses, and leave their windows wide open, hoping to let in a cool breeze that did not exist.

Harry hadn't listened to Solim's advice, he was wandering aimlessly outside. The weather was too hot, and the room was even more stuffy, after all, you couldn't expect the Dursleys to give Harry an electric fan, he really couldn't stand staying in the house, so he came out for a walk, at least the outside wouldn't be as stuffy as the inside.

He hid behind a large clump of hydrangeas that evening, and no passer-by would see him. In fact, if his uncle Vernon or Aunt Penny poked their heads out of the living room window and looked straight into the flower beds below, they could still be seen.

Overall, Harry felt that he was glad he could think of hiding here. It may not be comfortable to lie on the hot, hard dirt, but on the other hand, no one here will glare at him so hard that he can't hear what is on the news, and no one will ask him annoying questions. Every time he tried to sit in the living room and watch TV with his aunt and uncle, they always disturbed him.

"Thankfully, that kid finally didn't come to probe his brain. Uh, where the hell did he go?" said Aunt Vernon's words floating out of the window above Harry's head.

"I don't know," said Aunt Petunia indifferently, "not at home anyway." "

"Watching the news??" he said meanly, "I would like to know what he is going to do." A normal boy, who cares about the news - Dudley doesn't know anything about current affairs, I suspect he doesn't even know who the Prime Minister is! Hell, how can we have anything to do with people like theirs-"

"Vernon, shhhhh

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. "

The room was silent, save for the sound of commercials on TV. Harry the Cat is here for one purpose, and that is to hear from the TV about something he cares about - such as a missing person or an unexplained explosion somewhere, which is the only way he can get information about the outside world - and another is to rummage through the trash cans on the street and look for newspapers and the like.

Voldemort had been resurrected, Harry wanted to know what the Death Eaters were doing, he wanted to know what had changed in the outside world, and although there might be news in the newspapers of the wizarding world that he hoped for, it was obvious that Harry would not have received a newspaper from the wizarding world in Privet Road.

More than just newspapers, Harry thought he wouldn't be able to get even a letter from a friend now. Harry felt like a caged bird right now—just like Hedwig. That's why Harry doesn't like to take a holiday, because it means he's going back to the cage of Privet Road.

Then Uncle Vernon's voice came out of the window again: "Where's Dada?

"I went to Poches's house. Aunt Petunia said lovingly, "He's made so many friends, and everyone likes him, doesn't they?"

Harry struggled to hold back his laughter. He thought the Dursleys were so stupid, how could they believe Dudley's lies? Harry felt that even when he was occasionally stupid, he wouldn't believe Dudley would go to someone's house for tea.

Dudley made up a stupid lie every night during the summer that he was going to tea at someone's house of his fox friends, and they took it. Harry knew very well that Dudley hadn't gone anywhere for tea at all, and that he and his buddies were destroying public property at the playground every night, smoking cigarettes on street corners, and throwing stones at passing cars and children. Harry had seen them do this when he walked in Little Whitking at night. He'd spent most of the summer wandering the streets, picking up newspapers from bins along the way and flipping through them, so Harry had witnessed a lot of what Dudley and his friends were doing.

The opening song of the seven o'clock news reached Harry's ears, and he was so nervous that his organs were churning. Just tonight – maybe tonight I'll hear something I want.

I have to say that Harry has some contradictions in his heart. No news is best news, which meant that Voldemort and the Death Eaters hadn't started harming people yet - but Harry understood that it was a matter of time, and that sooner or later they would come out and do harm. Maybe he'll find out today.

When the last piece of news was over, Harry didn't know whether to be disappointed or rejoicing. There weren't any notable events in the news — still the same as before, trivial things and complaints about how the weather was going. There were no weird cases Harry had hoped to hear.

He carefully rolled over, crawled up on his knees and elbows, prepared his hands and feet and crawled away from the window. As soon as I climbed two inches, several things happened one after the other.

A loud, echoing pop like a gunshot cut through the sleepy silence, a cat leapt out from under a parked car and disappeared, and a scream, a scolding, and the sound of porcelain breaking came from the Dursleys' living room.

Harry jerked to his feet, pulling a thin wooden wand from his jeans pocket like a sword—but before he could fully straighten his body, his head hit the open window of the Dursleys. There was a thud, and Aunt Petunia screamed even louder.

Harry felt as if his head had been split in half, and tears welled up in his eyes. He shook his body and looked down the street, trying to make out his blurred vision to make out where the sound was coming from. But as soon as he could barely stand upright, two large fuchsia hands reached out of the open window and grabbed him by the throat.

"Put it away!" yelled Uncle Vernon, "hurry up!

"Let go—go—I—" Harry tried to break Vernon's sausage-like fingers, but to no avail.

Suddenly, Vernon screamed, and a spirited sent Harry away. It's as if he's just been stung by a scorpion.

The Stinging Charm isn't technically a proper spell, so it won't be detected by the Ministry of Magic.

Harry panted and threw himself into the hydrangeas, then straightened up and looked around. He couldn't tell where the bang was coming from, but there were a few faces poking out of the various windows around him. Harry quickly tucked his wand into his jeans and pretended nothing was wrong.

"What a beautiful night!" said Uncle Vernon exclaimed, "Did you hear the sound of the car firing back just now?

He had that ugly, crazy smile on his face until the curious neighbors disappeared from their various windows. His smile suddenly turned into a sinister scorn, and he motioned for Harry to return to him.