12. Harry's Transformation and the Dursleys' Reaction
They pulled over at a hardware store nearby. The woman in the passenger seat mentioned that she wasn't familiar with tools and preferred to stay in the car. The driver accompanied Harry into the store, and they browsed around for a while. "Need any help?" a young man in a uniform asked as he approached them. "Looking for ladders," the driver replied. "Follow me, please." the young man said, leading them to the back of the store.
The walls are covered with all kinds of ladders. "Now this model..." The young man began to describe each of the ladders. Harry looked at them and realized that he couldn't open the bag to try and see if it fit, so he went back to where he found the tape measure. Grabbing the tape, he went to his hiding place, removed the cover stealthily, and quickly placed the tape on the ground. Once he measured the depth, he rewound the tape and went to the back of the store. "...What do you mean..." The young man was still talking about the ladders. "Two meters," Harry said, holding up the tape measure. "Got it," said the driver, "pass it over." You can't know what you want until you see how big it is and how far it reaches. Harry nodded. The driver turned to the young man. "We need a six-foot ladder." The young man moved slightly away from the wall and pointed, "There are a few of them." "Straight ladder made of wood and steel. Folding type made of steel. Folding A-frame made of steel and wood..." "Yes," the young man pointed to a single-sided stepladder made of tall pine wood. Harry said while there were steps. It folds and looks sturdy. "Why wood?" he asked the driver. "The metal lasts longer and..." "...makes noise," Harry said as he held the metal one and it clinked. He thought everyone knew this and shook the tree to tell him. There is almost no sound. "Okay, I'll take it. It's quieter." The driver smiled and said he preferred it that way. The young man took him in his arms and helped them carry him to the door of the shop, where he stood with them. When the girl went back to the register, she called out "18A, 3C" for them. The girl said "Yes," added it to her list of items, and rang it up for purchase. Harry bought a ladder and a tape measure. They left the store because they had never owned anything like this before and found it fun to use.
"That was quick," said the pretty woman as she stepped out of the car with the new light jacket Harry had bought. "It's getting a bit chilly. You should put this on," the driver said, opening the car boot and sighing. "How am I going to get this to where you live, kid?" "Language," his wife reminded him. "Sorry, honey," the driver apologized, scratching his head abashed. "Do that," his wife instructed, pointing to his head. "I can't carry the darn thing all the way to..." "...on the car," she clarified, and the driver looked at the small rack on the car roof. He asked Harry for the measuring tape and used it to find the right spot to balance the ladder, making sure one of the rungs touched the taxi sign in the middle of the roof to stop the ladder from sliding, then tied it down. With it secured firmly, the three of them climbed into the car. Harry was very pleased that his new measuring tape had helped him already.
"So, what's your address?" the pretty woman asked from the front seat. "Fourteen Privet Drive," Harry lied. He opened his trunk and started transferring his new clothing into it. "I can't fit a dresser into the opening," he thought. "Maybe I can put my clothes on the bookshelf?" It was dark as they drove back to Privet Drive, then the taxi pulled over to the curb. "Here you are. Home sweet home," the driver said, glad that he didn't see any bullies. Harry pulled out another ten-pound note and handed it over the seat. The driver looked at it for only a second and then accepted it. His wife didn't say anything, but she frowned at her husbands action.
The driver shrugged at her and climbed out, then took the ladder off the roof of the car. "Where do you want it?" he asked Harry, who climbed out of the back seat with his trunk. "Right there on the walk by the tree," Harry said, choosing this house specifically for that purpose to explain the ladder. "Right," the driver said. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he smiled as his wife stepped out of the car. Harry nodded, and the pretty woman put her hands on his shoulders, then she ran one of her hands through the hair on the top of his head. A moment later, she bent down and gave him a hug. She took a deep breath and let it out, then let Harry out of the hug. "Thank you," Harry said, his face red. It was his second hug of the day, from two different women, and he was at a loss as to why. Aunt Petunia had never hugged him for as long as he could remember, and he didn't realize that he was so thin and frail that normal people saw him and felt sorry for him.
"I'm very glad that I could help," the pretty woman said, climbing back into the car. "Goodbye." "See you later, kid," the driver said, climbing into the taxi, then it drove away down the street. Harry looked around to see if anyone was nosing out of their windows like Aunt Petunia did, didn't see anyone, and went to the ladder. He opened his trunk and opened the ladder. He almost jumped for joy when it just barely fit into the 3-foot by 2-foot opening. He didn't even have to let the ladder go as it softly landed on the floor and the top was right in the middle of the trunk. He moved it so that it was on the side of the trunk's opening and closed the lid.
"Now I can get my things out," Harry thought, grabbing the handle of the trunk. It was still light as a feather, and he walked down Privet Drive to the actual house where he lived. He knew this was going to be explosive, and he wasn't sure how he was going to counter whatever his aunt and uncle planned. He had nothing to do but face them since he couldn't live out on the street or go to school before September first. Harry had initially planned to have the taxi take him all the way to London, then thought it was way too far to take a taxi. He didn't know any other way to get there, so he walked up the path to the front door of The Dursleys. He reached for the handle with a sigh and... it was locked. "Figures," Harry thought, wondering what time it was. "I should have bought a watch." For the first time in his life, Harry knocked on the door to his own relatives house to get in.
Uncle Vernon was in a tizzy. Aunt Petunia was almost as anxious and agitated as he was. They were completely surprised that the boy they had taken in, fed, and raised for eleven years had grabbed a trunk from somewhere and run off. Dudley and his friends had lost sight of him barely seven streets away, and then nothing. They didn't dare tell the neighbors or the police, as he was pretty much their deep, dark and dirty secret. Barely anyone knew that there was a second boy living there, except for the school, and they didn't really care much for him, either. Unlike their little Duddikins, who received a letter from the school practically every week about his behavior and progress, they had never once received a letter about Harry. That was their view, of course. The letters for Dudley were actually school censures, but they were worded so friendly that Vernon and Petunia took them for praise and rewarded Dudley instead of punishing him, as the letters might have suggested between the lines of pleasantries.
It was nearing seven o'clock at night, pitch dark out, and there was still no sign of the boy. They weren't really worried for him, though. They were worried for their own sake. Petunia knew that if anyone found out they housed a runaway orphan, the entire neighborhood might see them as a laughingstock. A taxi drove by, and Petunia darted to the window. She told her husband that it went down the street and stopped at fourteen, then dropped off some rich boy who must have been visiting the Havershums. She went back to his side and fretted over the problem they had. Not long after, there was a knock on the front door.
Vernon walked across the living room and down the hallway, past the cupboard under the stairs, and went to the door. He peeked out through the peephole and saw what looked like an unruly tuft of jet black hair. "YOU!" Vernon yelled, his anger flaring as he yanked the front door open. "What the heck are you doing here?" he asked loudly, all his worry forgotten. Petunia rushed to stand behind her husband to support him. "You have some nerve coming back here after making your aunt worry all... darn... day..." Vernon's words trailed off when his beady little eyes finally saw the well-dressed and handsome boy in front of him. "Who in the world are you?" "It's me," the handsome boy said. "Harry. Harry Potter." Vernon's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he didn't know what to say. Petunia saw the perfect unblemished skin, the stylish and flattering haircut, the expensive clothing that fit well, and the lack of glasses. "H-H-Harry? Is... is that really you?" Petunia asked, her voice shaky. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said in his very familiar defeated tone of voice. Petunia took in a quick breath, let out a tiny little shriek, then fainted.