The Letters:
It was the middle of the summer holidays in Little Whinging, Surrey and the inhabitants of Number Four Privet Drive had awoken and were about to sit down to a hearty breakfast. Harry Potter was musing over the fact that his Aunt was going to make him wear Dudley's old clothes as a new school uniform. It was bad enough that Dudley was four times the size of Harry, but Aunt Petunia had thrown all the over-sized clothes in a big tub and was attempting to dye them grey. Harry doubted very much that they'd look just like everyone else's as Aunt Petunia had snapped at him.
His cousin and uncle had come in shortly after this, wrinkling their noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. As usual, Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper and settled down to read, while Dudley banged his Smelting stick on the table.
They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of several letters on the doormat.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
"Make Harry get it."
"Make Dudley get it."
"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Aunt Marge, who was on vacation, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and two more letters which had thick, heavy envelopes made from yellowish parchment. Intrigued, Harry read the first one which was addressed to Dudley:
Mr. D. Dursley
The second largest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Harry briefly wondered who would write such a specific address, until the name on the second letter caught his eye. The envelope was exactly the same as Dudley's except for the name and address:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Harry stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends or other relatives. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.
Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen.
"What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" he chuckled at his own joke.
Harry went back into the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the rest of the letters, sat down, and stashed his own letter under his jumper. He wanted to read in private later, when no one could interrupt him.
Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.
"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."
He picked up the yellow envelope addressed to Dudley and stared at it for a moment. His eyes bulged and his face dramatically changed from its usual purple to paper white. Harry, who was so absorbed in thoughts about what his letter contained, did not notice the horrified look on his uncle's face.
It was nearly five minutes before the rest of the Dursleys and Harry knew that something was not quite right with Uncle Vernon.
Dudley looked up from stuffing his face with several croissants only to see his father, stark white, and clasping an unopened letter in his pudgy hands.
Dudley stood up from his chair, his vast stomach nearly upsetting the dinner table, and waddled around behind his father to read the letter over his shoulder. Aunt Petunia, abandoning her bowl of fruit n' bran, peered over her husband's other shoulder.
Five seconds later, Aunt Petunia snatched the envelope out of Uncle Vernon's grasp, and tore it open.
Turning her back to her family and Harry, she frantically read the contents of her son's letter.
"NO!" she screamed, "No, not Dudley, not my son, never my son..."
Dudley and Harry were very disturbed at Aunt Petunia's reaction. Vernon Dursley, however, understood.
"Petunia! Petunia this cannot be...our son, one of them! This has to be a mistake...yes, it's a mistake, I expect their lot aren't intelligent enough to tell who's normal and who's...not."
For some reason, Uncle Vernon glared at Harry when he said this.
Mystified, Harry continued to look from Aunt Petunia to Uncle Vernon and then to Dudley, the subject of all this ruckus.
Dudley, who looked confused and slightly scared, tried to grab the letter from his mother. Aunt Petunia, however, held the letter close to her chest and warded off her son with her free hand.
"I want to see that letter! What's it say about me?" he demanded.
"It's no concern of yours boy! Go to your room!" Uncle Vernon roared at his son.
Dudley did not give up that easily though.
"Let me see it! It had my name on it, I know it's about me!"
His father seemed to have reached the end of his tether, Uncle Vernon seized Dudley by his collar and threw him bodily out the kitchen door. A loud thump followed as an enraged Dudley landed in a heap in the hallway. Harry, who had been a silent observer so far, thought it best if he made an exit as quickly as possible. He silently got up from his place and edged towards the doorway, his eye on his aunt and uncle who were rereading the troublesome letter. Unfortunately, his aunt's sharp eyes caught sight of him and he knew, he just knew, that he was in trouble for some reason.
"YOU!"
His intuition was right.
"You, get back here! Aunt Petunia screeched.
"This wouldn't have happened if he wasn't here, Vernon, it's like a disease and he passed it on to our son!"
"You're right, Petunia dear, we should never have taken the rascal in, he's caused nothing but trouble and hardship for our family, but this time he's gone too far." Uncle Vernon agreed.
"I will not let our son be harmed by your abnormality, do you hear me boy?" he addressed Harry.
Completely bewildered, Harry just stood still, hoping they would ignore him if he said nothing.
"I said did you hear me?" Uncle Vernon shouted right into Harry's ear.
Suddenly, Harry became angry at being shouted at for no apparent reason, so he stepped back from his uncle and was about to storm out of the room when Aunt Petunia said something which made him stop abruptly.
"Of course, I knew you'd turn out the same. Right from the beginning I knew, you had the same sympotoms that my sister had," she spat. "Moving her toys without touching them, opening and closing flower buds just by holding them, growing her hair three inches overnight," she said glaring at Harry.
Harry had barely ever heard his aunt talk about her sister, his mother, before. Why did she seem to hate his long dead mother? He wondered. And what on earth did Aunt Petunia mean about his mum's symptoms? Could she really do all those things, he wondered. It sounded like the weird things that happened to him sometimes, like when he regrew his hair overnight.
But Aunt Petunia did not appear to be finished her rant yet.
"A weirdo, that's what she was" his aunt stated.
"Abnormal, odd, freak!" she shouted, her voice becoming high pitched and scratchy.
"And you! I knew you'd be just like her! I've seen your little tricks, like mother like son, I say!" she directed at the boy in front of her.
Uncle Vernon appeared to be lost for words like Harry, he stood stock still, gaping at his wife as she let out all her long bottled up thoughts.
"Yes, and that awful boy! The Snape urchin from the poorest family in town" she sneered, "Obviously, this school, this-this Hogwarts, only takes in people who are too strange or-or dangerous for normal society!" she let out a hysterical laugh.
Roused by this last sentence, Uncle Vernon finally attempted to engage with his livid wife.
"Petunia, dear, think about what you're saying! They sent our Dudley an acceptance letter."
This, however, was not the smartest thing to say.
"My son, is NOT one of them," she all but roared.
"My Dudders has two normal, hard-working parents," she stated, "there is no way that he could be accepted into a school for freaks."
She then turned again to face Harry, "This is your fault," she said more calmly. "You are the only way that my child could have any connection to the-the Magical world," she said.
Harry could not believe his ears. The Magical world? Has Aunt Petunia gone mad?
His thoughts were interrupted by Uncle Vernon.
"But-but Petunia," he stammered, "why hasn't the boy gotten a letter from them too, if he's one of them?"
Petunia seemed nonplussed for a second, raking her eyes over Harry, until-
"What's that sticking out of your jumper?" she asked Harry sharply.
His letter, Harry realised, had slipped down under his jumper and a corner of it was peeking out. He hadn't thought of it in the last while as he'd been too absorbed in the commotion occurring. He had no choice but to pull it out and reveal it to his waiting aunt and uncle. He did not need to hear their gasps to know that this letter was indeed sent by the same person who'd sent Dudley's.
"See? I told you, Vernon, he's one of them!" Aunt Petunia said, somewhat victoriously.
Uncle Vernon, however, seemed very upset. "But Petunia, this means that they didn't make a mistake, that first letter was meant for Dudley," he said slowly.
Aunt Petunia had a look of dawning horror on her face now, too.
Harry, meanwhile, was tearing open his letter and unfolding it. There was complete quietness, both his aunt and uncle seemed stunned into silence. At long last, Harry read the letter:
Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry...
Harry finished reading, not quite believing that this Hogwarts place really taught magic. But then, he thought, what did Aunt Petunia mean about his mother being strange? Could his mother have been a witch? Is that what his aunt meant? "Like mother, like son" she had said, so does that mean I'm a wizard? These questions flashed through his mind in rapid succession.
He then remembered all the odd things Aunt Petunia had said his mother could do. I've done things like that, he thought to himself, could it possibly be magic what I've done?