pdf - dance with me harry - Sahits

money. Just like when you were back at Smeltings, when you and your little crowd would extort
money from younger, weaker kids to pay for your sweets. But little did I think you'd do it to your
own flesh and blood. What's next you fat bugger. Selling your son to the white slavers?'
"I...I..." Vernon stammered.
Suddenly, Penny Robinson grabbed her husband and pulled him away, giving Vernon a venomous
look. "No use getting in trouble over scum like that," she hissed and led Steve out of the store.
Vernon felt a warm trickle down his leg. He had wet himself after all.
* * *
It had been a lovely Saturday for Harry. He had mowed three lawns a had a wonderful roast beef
sandwich at the Steins for lunch. And as he passed by the Geddes' place, Sara came out and waved
him to stop. They had a friendly chat. He reassured her that he was feeling much better about
himself since talking to her two days before but confided his worries over his letter to Ron. She told
him she expected to see him at the church youth dance in another week and that she would
introduce him to several of the young people from the neighborhood, including a couple girls his
age who, she hinted, might be pretty enough for his tastes.
So Harry was in a good mood. Which is why he didn't expect the punch from Vernon Dursley as he
walked in the back door.
"You sodding whelp," Vernon screamed as Harry hit the floor from a solid blow to the midsection.
"That'll teach you to talk about our private business to strangers."
Vernon grabbed him by the collar and dragged Harry, who was bent into a fetal position and
gasping for breath, past a hysterically crying Petunia. "Little bastard," she kept screaming.
Vernon continued to drag Harry's body down the hallway until he came to the cupboard underneath
the stairs. Vernon opened the cupboard and slammed Harry inside so hard that Harry's forehead hit
the wall, opening up a cut above his left eye. "If I had a gun, I'd shoot you like a rabid dog, you
little bastard," Vernon screamed. Harry mercifully passed out.
* * *
Rev. Strowbridge was a little put out that he didn't see Harry at services on Sunday. He always kept
an eye out for his special people, like Jenna Cartwright, the young teen mother who was struggling
to cope with single parenthood at such a young age, and little Paulie Charnoff, who Strowbridge
helped to kick a drug habit. But Strowbridge knew that not every troubled young person he helped
would be a regular at services. He was just happy that so many were there over the years.
But Strowbridge became a little more concerned on Monday and Tuesday, when his little network
of Harry watchers reported that Harry wasn't showing up to work around the neighborhood, as
promised. Harry hadn't been very communicative during their little chat, but Strowbridge thought
that this might be a sign of shyness, rather than a truly troubled youth. Plus, the people in the
neighborhood all seemed to think of Harry as punctual, courteous and hard-working, looking at him
as something of a neighborhood mascot rather than a teenager prone to trouble.
What concerned him even more was his cursory investigations, along with Clem Ashwell's, into
Harry's background and school. Strowbridge had made a couple telephone calls to friends and,
within a day, received an unexpected visit from a cleric from the Archbishop's staff. He was politely
but firmly told not to pursue inquiries about Hogwarts, but instructed to call a private number in the
Archbishop's office immediately, before anything else unless Harry's life was at stake, should
anything untoward happen to Harry.
Clem Ashwell received the same warning and request from an 'official' from the Department of
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