pdf - dance with me harry - Sahits

Evvie gasped. "What?" she asked, fearing the worst.
John was now working up to a full outrage. "That f...that bloody aunt and uncle of his are taking
every penny he earns for themselves. All his bloody work and sweat are going right into fat
Dursley's pocket, the son of a bitch!"
Steve and Penny Robinson, who were at the next table, turned to stare at Nichol, whose had raised
his voice.
Penny reached over to John. "Are you talking about the Potter boy? The one who mows our lawn?"
Nichol nodded curtly. "All that work and nothing to show for it."
Penny gasped. "They're sending him out to work and taking everything? They can't be that hard up
for money, can they?" she said with a surprised look.
Clem and Denise Ashwell, who had heard the commotion, came over. "What's all this?" Clem
asked.
John felt like getting up and announcing it to the whole pub. "That fat bastard Dursley is stealing
every penny young Potter has been earning these past couple weeks. I knew he didn't have any
friends in the neighborhood, so I tried to set him up with my nephew Peter. But he said he couldn't
go. He didn't have a penny to spend. That fat son of a bitch," Nichol fumed.
Two tables down, Jeanne Seabury, the new president of the Garden Club Harry's Aunt Petunia
belonged to, heard the whole conversation. She knew Petunia all too well and hated the snooping,
back-biting bitch. Jeanne's sense of outrage gave way to an evil glint in her eye. 'Oh, Petunia. We've
got you now,' she thought.
* * *
Petunia Dursley was dusting the living room with the tele blaring in the background just to keep her
company. It was Saturday, and Vernon was out buying various and sundry items for the house after
dropping off Dudley at his karate class despite the boy's protestations that they were boring. And
her misbegotten nephew Harry was out mowing lawns and doubtless gathering up every spot of dirt
he could find to track into the house. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
Petunia went to the door and was shocked to find Jeanne Seabury, Angela Mathers and Deanna
Crone, the board members from her garden club. They were all smiling and each was carrying what
looked like casserole dishes.
"Petunia, darrrling," Jeanne said with exaggerated friendliness. "Please let us in. We are here for
you in your hour of need."
Petunia gawped a couple times, but stepped aside to let her 'friends,' all of whom she despised, in.
"Whaa...? Ahem, to what do I owe this lovely visit," she said in confusion.
Her visitors had gone to the kitchen to drop off their gifts. Jeanne returned and grasped Petunia's
shoulders, giving her an air kiss. "Oh, Petunia. We're so worried about you."
Angela and Deanna looked at Petunia with sympathetic eyes that barely concealed the venom
behind them.
"I...I don't understand," Petunia said with a crooked smile.
Her three visitors took seats in the living room. "Petunia, dear," Deanna said soothingly. "We know
that times can be difficult every once in a while. And we know how strong and proud you are. But
you should have come to us."
Petunia was thoroughly confused. "But...I don't know what you're talking about."
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