The Potter Twins and the Order of the Phoenix {5}

1. The Dementors

"Her closets such a mess, filled up with all the skeletons she's kept" ~ Dirty Laundry, All Time Low

The hottest day of the summer so far is finally drawing to a close, and with it, the local park has slowly been cleared of children, which is a relief, as they all tend to stare at me with terrified eyes. They've all been warned of Harry and I - we're now the incurably criminal pair. 

Our apperances don't help this rumour at all. I'm wearing ripped and tattered black jeans and an old shirt that pratically swallows me whole. The soles of my trainers are almost entirely worn in. 

Now that the park is free, I sit on the swings, rockingb

Harry and I have barely heard a word from our friends, or Dad or Sirius, for that matter. We received a brief letter from dad at the beginning of the holidays, and an even briefer birthday note from him, and Hermione, too. 

So, we really have nothing to look forward to but another restless sleep, due to our new and improved nightmares. 

The scars on our foreheads often hurt, too, but I doubt anybody is going to find that interesting anymore. It used to be a sign of Voldemort being close to us, but now that he's back, Sirius and dad would probably just remind us that it's just a regular irritation...nothing to worry about...old news...

The injustice of it all is enough to make me scream. If it weren't for us, no one would even know that Voldemort was back, and all we get in return is four solid weeks in Little Whinging, with no contact with anyone. How could Dumbledore have forgotten about us so easily? Why have Ron, Hermione and Tay gotten together without inviting us along, too? How much longer are we supposed to endure Sirius and Dad telling us to sit tight and be good?

Before long, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me, and Harry comes out of the shadows, looking weary and irritated. 

"Thought I might find you here," he says dully, taking a sit on the swing beside me. He's grown quite a bit, and now as a strange look of someone who has grown too quickly. 

"What happened? I thought you were quite happy in your hydrangea bush?" 

"Uncle Vernon tried to strangle me," he says, almost nonchalantly. 

I don't know how long we sit on the swings in silence before the sound of voices interrupts our peace. After listening to the voices and sounds for a few moments, I know exactly who it is; Dudley, our cousin, wending his way home, accompanied by his faithful gang. 

Dudley is as vast as ever, but a year's hard dieting and the discovery of his one and only talent have brought quite a change in his physique. As Uncle Vernon delightedly tells anyone who will listen, Dudley has recently become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School boxing champion. It's made Dudley even more formidable than in our primary school days, when Harry and I served as Dudley's first punching bags. 

We've never been scared of our cousin, and now that we're older, he's only ever shoved me, but the fact that he's now stronger isn't a cause for celebration, especially for Harry. 

Neighbourhood children are terrified of him - even more terrified than they are of us. 

We watch in silence as the dark figures cross the grass, and I briefly wonder who they beat up tonight. 

If Dudley's friends see us, they're sure to make a beeline for us, and what would Dudley do then? He won't want to lose in front of his gang, but he's also terrified of provoking us. It would be funny to watch him be so conflicted, to taunt him. 

However, their voices soon fade away, and they continue on their way. 

There you go, Sirius, I think bitterly. Nothing rash. Kept our noses clean. Exactly the opposite of what you'd have done.