Harry nervously sat in the waiting room, the stiff chair beneath his bum doing little to cushion him from the hard metal base. His uncle stared knives and daggers at his nephew, searching in his own mind every possible way he could blame Harry for his son's predicament.
Feeling the enmity of his uncle, Harry grew even more uncomfortable, shifting from side to side while staring at five-month-old home designing magazine. He pretended to read it while he thought of a way to escape the malevolent eye of his uncle. Within minutes, a nurse stepped into the room, on her way to the desk, when Harry quickly tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and walked up to her. "Could you tell me where the cafeteria is?" he asked, and immediately dashed down the hallway as soon as she'd given him directions. Uncle Vernon had little time to react, and was too exhausted to pursue the teenager.
Free from his uncle's grasp and glare, Harry breathed a light sigh of relief. He quickly remembered, of course, that he was in a hospital, one of his least favourite places to be.
As he walked down the hall, he took note of the light tan walls carrying cheerful and serene paintings of beach scenes; the quaint lamps that hung between these paintings; the warm, inviting maroon carpeting; and the occasional potted rubber tree plant. The hospital seemed to have made every effort in making the place cheerful and "just like home." And it all sickened Harry to his bowels.
'It's all phony!' he thought to himself. As long as that air, that combination of cleaning chemicals and generic-brand Lysol and who-knows-what, hung about, the façade that the decorators put up would fool no one but the numbest of nimrods.
As he continued his journey down the hall, past a gift shop and a pair of catty visitors, he saw a familiar face coming the opposite direction. Her slightly frazzled blonde hair rustled beneath her gleaming aluminum beanie and framed her wan face. Her baggy T-shirt bore the image of a green alien holding a magnifying glass, with the caption, "INVESTIGATE ROSWELL." Her faded and torn dark jeans, being of some obscure colour between dark blue and black, covered the tops of her gray Velcro steel-toed sneakers. A laptop carrying case strap crossed across her torso, suspending the bag and its precious contents by her side. "HARRY!" the girl exclaimed, her brown eyes brightening at the sight of a schoolmate.
"Heh, high Luna!" Harry said almost embarrassedly, receiving a light hug. "How've you been?" Just as the question left his lips, he regretted ever even thinking to ask it. "Oh! Same old, same!" Luna replied with a chuckle. "I've just been working on my website!" Her eyes looked up at him and widened. "Wanna see it?"
Before he could even respond, Luna hurriedly retrieved her laptop from her bag and quickly flipped it open, immediately drawing up her webpage. "Well, it's just a blog, for now, but I hope to make a big website, someday! It's called 'Investigate Roswell,' because you know, everything the government has been up to, even to today, has to do with the Roswell incident."
She continued on a rant about the different theories behind the phenomenon, from how Woodrow Wilson had previously communicated with the extraterrestrial beings, but then shot them down and even today there is a galactic war taking place, to how the military really did communicate with other worldly beings, and is using the technology, under the guise of actual scientific research, in everything from stealth planes to comfortable mattresses to chunks of freeze-dried Neapolitan that turn to globs in your mouth.
Harry stared at his comrade, hardly believing that any human being with any sense of rationality could believe such nonsense. Luna then took a breath looked back to her audience. "And how are you?" 'Finally!' Harry thought, 'Someone's thinking of me for once!' "Oh, the usual," he sighed, looking at his black-and-white checkered Vans. "I just feel all dreary and alone in this world. It seems like no one will listen to me,"
"Oh my gosh!" Luna exclaimed. "I know exactly how you feel! Just the other day, I was trying to explain how the government was trying to indoctrinate citi-" "NO!" Harry cut her off. "No! You don'tunderstand. No one understands my problems! Do you hear me?" Tears soon came to his Maybelline eyes. "I am a lone wolf in this world! With no one to actually care about me! My parents are dead! Are your parents dead? I THINK NOT!"
"Um, Harry," Luna interrupted his rant. "My mom is actually dead..." "You don't understand! No body understands me!" Harry continued, before storming off. He could no longer bare to be around someone so selfish and thoughtless of others! She had asked him how he felt, and how dare she interrupt him when he was trying to answer! He stuffed his hands into his ever-tight trousers once more, kicking the maroon carpeting that seemed a little too warm and inviting. He cursed the warm beach scenes. He cursed the occasional potted rubber plant that only seemed to want to give him a hug. It made him sick without.
He sniffled as a lock of his fluffy, angled hair flopped over his black, thick-framed glasses. He didn't care, though. The world was against him, even his own hair, but he tried not to care. In fact, he tried so hard, that he hadn't noticed that his Uncle Vernon was in his path, and carelessly bumped into him. "So," Vernon said despicably. "there you are. Let's go home." He then grabbed Harry by the collar and nearly shoved him through the double doors into the lobby.
To be continued...
A/N: I really wanted to get a lot more into this chapter, but I got tired of waiting to post, so here it is! Chapter Five will hopefully be uploaded in a shorter amount of time! Many apologies for the year-long wait! The next chapter is sure to entertain (or at least shock, or maybe even stir a yawn). I apologies for any grammatical errors in this chapter and those preceding; I know that it really should be "Durseleys'" and not "Durseley's", and that it's actually "too", not "to," but those errors just happened to slip under the radar.