Saphira Black and the Philosopher's Stone

Two~ Introductions

--Saphira's POV--

    Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their newphew and I on the front step, but Privet Drive had boringly remained the same. The sun always rose on the same tidy front gardens and always lit up the brass number four of the Durdleys' front door. Only the pictures on the mantelpiece in the living room showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large, pink beach ball dressed in different-colored bonnets- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby- no, he was much worse. Now, the pictures showed a fat, blond boy riding his first bicycle and breaking it, on the carousel at the fair, playing a video games with sorry excuse for a father, and getting hugged and kissed by his annoying-as-hell mother. The room held no sign that another boy and me, another girl, had lived in the house, too.

    Yet Harry Potter and I, Saphira Black, were still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Harry's Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

    "Up! Get up! Now!"

    I woke up with a start, and Harry did, too. He kicked me in the face as he rolled onto his back, practically squishing me to the wall in the bed we shared. His aunt rapped on the door again.

    "Are you two up yet?" she demanded.

    "Nearly," said Harry, while I changed into a baggy t-shirt and jeans, checking them for spiders.

    "Well, hurry up. I want one of you to look after the bacon, and the other to look after the eggs. And don't you two dare to burn anything, I want everything perfect for my Dudder's special day."

    I groaned loudly.

    "What did you say?" she hissed.

    "Nothing, nothing..." I muttered as Harry pulled a spider off a pair of socks. We were used to spiders, seeint that the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where we slept.

    When we were dressed, we went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. We could see that Dudley got his new computer, his second TV, and his racing bike. Why he needed all these things was a mystery... especially the racing bike. Dudley was very fat and hated exercise... unless exercise counted as punching people. Dudley's favorite punching bag was poor Harry, but he often couldn't catch him. Harry was very fast. Then Dudley would turn towards me, but the wouldn't actually punch me. He would lightly tap his fist against my shoulder or arm, blushing.

    Maybe it had something to do with living in a small, dark cupboard, but Harry and I were always small and skinny for our age. We looked even smaller and skinnier than we actually were because we had to wear all of Dudley's old clothes. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright-green eyes. He wore round glasses that were held together by lots of Sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing he liked about his own appearance was a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He had asked Aunt Petunia how he got it, and she gave a lovely answer.

    "In a car crash," she had snapped, "And don't ask questions."

      God. Don't ask questions- that was the first rule to live quietly with the Dursleys.

    Me? Oh. I also had a thin face, but I had caramel-colored eyes, and- wait for it- indigo hair that's about waist-length. I don't know how I got it, I guess I was born with it. All the boys I'd met had fallen for me. Well, except for Harry. Something that intrigued me was a strange scar on the back of my neck, in the shape of a skull. Aunt Petunia had no answers to how I could have a scar like that.

    Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

    "Comb your hair!" he barked at Harry as form of greeting. He had nothing to say about my hair, because it was out of his control, but he had something to say about the way I dressed. "Fix your shirt! I shouldn't be able to see your bare shoulder!"

    About once a week, Uncle Vernon would look over the top of his newspaper and yell that Harry needed a haircut and I needed to dye my hair. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys put together, but it made no difference... his hair simply grew the way it grew- all over the place. As for me, my hair would always go to its original color. It drove Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia mad.

    Harry and I were placing equal amounts of bacon and eggs on the table when Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. He flashed me a broad grin, hoping to impress me. It didn't work. Dudley looked a lot like his father. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery eyes and thick, blond hair. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley was an angel. I often said that he looked more like a pig in a wig.

    We put the plates on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

    "Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

    "Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

    "All right, thirty-seven, then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry and I, sensing a huge Dudley tantrum coming, started gulping down our food before he turned the table over.

    Aunt Petunia must have sensed something, too, because she said, "And we'll buy you two more presents when we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

    Dudley thought for a moment, which looked like really hard work. Then he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

    "Thirty-nine, geez," I snapped, but I shut up when Uncle Vernon glanced sharply at me.

    "Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and started opening his presents. "Okay then."

    Uncle Vernon chuckled.

    "Little tyke wants his money's worth. Atta boy, Dudley!"He ruffled Dudley's hair.

    At that moment the phone rang, and Aunt Petunia went to get it as Harry, Uncle Vernon, and I watched Dudley unwrap all his parcels. Then Aunt Petunia was back, looking angry and worried.