Chapter three – The suspicious letter

Summer had reached Privet Drive. It was holiday for children all over Britain. To Harry it made little difference.

On one hand he was constantly hunted by a gang of bullies at school, but as the leader-bully lived in the same house as Harry there were no more means of escaping these unpleasant characters during school break than during term.

On the other hand Harry actually liked school, which was ideal for someone like him whose main goal at the moment was to learn as many things as possible in order to promote his plans for the future.

Therefore Harry was somewhat displeased about the long school break, but as he had a library card and the Dursleys hardly ever asked where he went to as long as he was out of their way and not causing trouble, he felt he did not entirely waste his time anyway.

Harry spent much of his days at the local library or in other secluded places reading borrowed books. His favorite places to withdraw too were massive old trees.

He liked them so much because far up there no one could see him in the midst of the thick bushy branches while he himself still could keep attentive to his surroundings.

This was of course something he did not always do though, as one of the charms of being up in the air, in a room of leafs and branches, was that it felt like another world and allowed him to disconnect from the distasteful reality around him.

It was easier to go inside the reality of whatever book he was absorbed in presently with peaceful neutral surroundings such as these.

Harry had always felt like an alien outsider around the Dursleys. Curiously rather than getting better with age this alien feeling appeared to increase as more time went by; recently Harry felt more distant from them than ever.

This did not only apply to the Dursleys, even though the feeling was extra strong with them due to how simple and hopelessly dull he found them and their practically nonexisting imagination.

But he had for as long as he could remember also felt a certain distance to most people he met.

It was barely palpable and difficult to describe. It was just a feeling he had always had. Most of the time Harry felt like an alien in the company of others. It was not that he minded most of them in any way; he just did not feel really connected to any of them.

He contemplated sometimes if perhaps this was sad. He simply did not know; he never grieved the fact particularly, he had been rather solitary for as long as he had been conscious enough of his surrounding to reflect on the matter.

When analyzing his predicament he concluded that it did not much matter as this was how it was, and that was that.

He had always been on his own so he did not fully appreciate or understand the meaning or feeling of friendships and loyalty.

Harry was loyal only to himself as that was all he had always had and trusted to have forever. He always figured that friends like objects one could lose; the only 'thing' one could be certain to have in possession until ones death is yourself, this is therefore all you should let yourself rely on in the end, was his philosophy.

Harry enjoyed conversing with intelligent people from time to time, because of what it brought him in the form of possible new knowledge or at least another point of view on a matter.

Although he could sort of be slightly fond of people like this, who could teach him new things and who were interesting talking to, he did not find himself ever getting very attached to them.

He was so used to being on his own he never even considered counting anyone else into the equation of his future.

It was not that he was coldhearted; he just did not feel any connection to all these people to any real extent.

The upcoming school year Harry was going to go to another school than Dudley; Harry was going to Stonewall community school while his cousin was to attend a private school which apparently Vernon also had attended in his youth.

The fact that Vernon had graduated from this school, Harry did not think spoke much to its credit.

Also their uniforms were obviously ghastly as had been demonstrated by Dudley who had taken to parade around in his during the last few days.

Harry was no snob but he did have some sense of style and that combination, especially on a fat lump like his cousin, was dreadful to say the least.

One morning when Harry got up it was to an awful smell coming from the kitchen. As he reached the source of the stench he grasped that it was some articles of clothing being colored in the washbasin. Grey. Grey was the color of the uniforms at Stonewall… Uhuh. No. No. Eew. I´m going to have to wear that, right? God, I needn´t even ask. It is not as if anyone else living in this house would ever be made to wear that old junk. I need to get a job. Or learn how to steel… No better not risk my future like that, it could look bad on my records, what if I ever wanted to become a police officer, I could never do that with a criminal record. Though why would I suddenly want to do that is beyond me, however better keep my options open. Hmm, a politician maybe? Then it wouldn´t matter if I was a criminal as long as I am discreet… I wonder if there is someone who would hire a ten-year-old? Not a black market job, I am not Oliver Twist. Paperboy? Ugh. I wish it was ten years from now, right now. What would I be doing?

I wonder if that garden snake from yesterday is still somewhere around, I must go check, I need someone at least somewhat intelligent to speak to before I develop a multiple personality disorder or schizophrenia out of pure boredom…

"Don´t just stand there with your nose in the washbasin you hopeless child, go do something useful, flip the eggs over", Petunia suddenly interrupted his wandering thoughts.

Harry made the eggs and some toast before retreating to his usual chair with a mug of tea, as he is British, and no real British character can get by more than a chapter or two without some tea.

He finished his tea and a piece of toast quickly so that he would not have to share a table with the two incoming pigs.

Harry decided to go out and look for the garden snake he met yesterday which was very nice, before heading to the library. He had started trying to learn French with the help of dictionaries, some grammar books and a librarian who luckily was from France originally, as he found French a lovely language.

He halted by the door though. There was mail on the doorstep. Nothing strange about that really, normally he would have just picked it up and put it on a nearby table or in the kitchen. But today there was a letter addressed to Harry lying there, overly visibly in the pile of mail due to the green ink it was addressed in.

This was most surprising as Harry had never gotten a letter before. He had no friends, no other relatives and he always made sure to be on time with his borrowed library books as he had no money to pay a delayment fee. Who could possibly have written him? Was it advertising? No, he was a child, that would not be addressed to him he concluded. He picked it up to read the full address; Mr. Harry Potter, the cupboard under the stairs,

Private Drive 4, Little Whinging, Surrey

Alright, now he was pissed. This was such a, not only cruel but rather creepy joke as well. No real letter would be addressed this specifically, to the cupboard under the stairs. Who knew where he slept?

Well the Dursleys obviously, but he happened to know that neither Petunia nor Vernon had any sense of humor to speak of; therefore a stunt like this from them was unlikely.

Dudley? Possibly, if he had the help of a smarter friend with much better handwriting. It could hardly be from anyone else. It was possible that some of the kids at his (former) school might know he lived in a cupboard, if Dudley told them.

That was the only realistic possibility. As he assumed this was a prank letter of some sort from Dudley and his gang, it was definitely best not to open it as it was likely to contain something disgusting.

Where to dispose of it? Perfect, the fireplace in the living room. He lit a match, setting fire to the suspicious letter and watching it burn before finally leaving the house.

His day went by with nothing further out of the ordinary taking place. He came back as was his habit in the late afternoon, in time for dinner. He ate some stew while Petunia glared at him for a while because he had not seen fit to return earlier so that he could have helped with dinner.

He threw some glances at Dudley to decide if he showed any signs of surprise over the fact that his prank letter had seemingly not reached Harry. Oddly enough he was his regular disgusting self and did not show any signs of anything being amiss. Harry soon had to stop watching him in pure disgust over his cousin's deplorable table manners.

Although everything seemed normal enough as Harry went to bed after this unexciting day, oddness followed the very next day.

Harry awoke early and decided to go out for a stroll before breakfast. When he reached the front door however he stopped in his tracks.

Seriously, if it was Dudley doing this he really needed to get a life. There were now three letters lying on the doorstep, identical to that from the previous day.

Now Harry was curious. What did they want? He decided it was worth the risk of finding something gross in one of them just to satisfy his growing curiosity.

He did not however, in case it really was a prank, want to give Dudley the satisfaction of enjoying the spectacle of Harry falling for it.

Therefore he brought the letters with him outside. A while later up in one of his favorite threes, a big old birch, he held his breath as he ripped one open. Nothing happened so he glanced inside of the envelope.

There were pieces of old-looking paper there. Parchment he decided. How interesting, no matter what this was at least they used nice paper to write letters.

He opened one and skimmed it over. Then he read it again, thoroughly this time. Then, he skimmed it over once more. Harry did not know what to make out of this. If this was a joke he admired its sophistication. He somehow knew it couldn´t be; no one he knew had the brains to pull something like this off.

Assuming this was no joke, but an invitation to a school of witchcraft, he was a wizard? First he laughed at the idea of witchcraft being reality but his smile faded fast as he recalled memories of strange things happening around him.

He should have known, in some sense he did know that it was he himself who caused these things to happen.

He had felt it at the times, felt something working within him; power. He had thought he imagined these surges of power as he found no logical explanation for how he would have been able to do these things; he remembered several occasions straight away.

There was the time when Dudley and his friends chased him and suddenly he was on the other side of the high fence by the school. He had thought he just missed passing an opening, but he remember a familiar feeling in his chest right before it happened.

Then there was the time when that horrible little dog of aunt Marge´s (Harry shuddered just thinking about that horrible woman) had tried to bite him and suddenly it had no teeth.

This had scared Harry as he knew he was going to be blamed for this happening; he always was when strange things happened. He had left to go inside, waiting with dread for the adults to find the dog in this state.

There had been nothing he could do as he did not understand how it had happened or how he could possibly reverse it.

He had hoped with all his heart that they would not find the dog like that. The thing was, they didn´t. They searched for the dog later but could never find it. Marge was devastated of course and went home early to grieve, there were never any more signs of the dog and the adults assumed it had been run over by some car.

Thinking back now Harry realized he might have done that accidentally without realizing, just by his intensive wishing. This amazed him. If this was accidental magic it was most definitely dangerous not to know how to control it.

But if he, Harry, was a wizard and there obviously were more of them, what decided who was? Was it like a 'gift' some were born with randomly? Was it like a gene you inherited? Now, wait. The Dursleys knew.

They had to, that was why they always blamed him when strange things happened. He had always assumed it was because they did not like him and therefore it was easy blaming him for everything wrong with their lives.

Now it felt as if pieces in a big puzzle were slowly rearranging themselves inside of Harry´s head. They knew. If they knew, it seemed they had done so from when he was very small, going by his memories.

Was this other world of wizards and magic commonly known just not talked about, kind of like the locations of some illegal businesses? But then would not Harry somehow have found out before today? He was more perceptive than his close-minded relatives after all. No, it did not seem plausible that everybody knew; it was a secret.

How strange, he had to wonder how it was possible to keep such a secret. Then he thought again, taking into the consideration how dense and self-absorbed most people are, and suddenly it made perfect sense.

Then why would the Dursleys know? Was it a family trait that popped up now and then, every other generation perhaps?

Harry knew next to nothing of his parents as the Dursleys obviously shunned the Potters and refused to tell Harry anything about them. Harry had, before now, not cared much to know about them either.

He knew it was probably irrational of him but somehow he was a bit angry with them for dying on him, leaving him to be raised by people who clearly disliked him immensely.

Now he could not help but wonder if they had the same 'gift' or whatever, as Harry himself appeared to have. If they did, that explained the Dursleys overly obvious contempt for them, as they hated anything abnormal.

Apparently they did not recognize a talent when they saw one Harry mused. Maybe they were afraid; if he could do the things he did unintentionally as such a young age, he must be able to do a lot more if he learned how to control it.

Learning to control it would be important, he realized as much. But he had a lot of questions he needed answered before he sent a reply accepting the offer of a spot as a pupil at this school.

"We expect your owl by July 31 at the latest", what was that supposed to mean? Did they think he had a trained post owl? Was that normal to them? If it was, were they really stupid enough not to realize not everyone else did?

Harry decided to find a solution to how he would reply later and start on a list of questions he had first.

To Minerva McGonagall or whomever may be responsible of handling the replies to the acceptance letters to Hogwarts.

I received an invitation to this, to me formerly unknown school just today. You wrote for me to "send you my owl", but as I have no owl (is that code for something else or do you actually mean owl as in the animal?) nor do I know anyone who does (why would they?) I do not know how to send my reply, but I suppose I will have to figure that out in order for this to get to you.

This is not my reply of acceptance or declining. As I had never before this day heard of this 'other world', I have a lot of questions I need answered before I decide as to whether it is in my best interest to attend Hogwarts or not.

What exactly does the curriculum include? I see subjects such as transfiguration mentioned in the letter of acceptance. That sounds interesting and all, but which subjects in total are available? There are regular subjects, such as math, English and social science besides these rather abstract sounding 'magic-related' subjects, are there not? If not one would though in control of one's magic, be rather poorly educated after graduating from this school, not able to seek further education and employment in the only world I have known of before today.

That brings me to my next question; I assume there are lines of work within your world as well, besides teaching what are they? Examples would be very helpful.

How long does one attend this school and can you actually use the diploma from Hogwarts in your résumé at all in this world? I get the impression your world is very secluded from this one.

How does the acceptance to this school, Hogwarts, actually work? Why did I get one? Do you have a way of knowing of all the people with 'the gift' to perform magic and offer a spot to all of them..?

What is the tuition to this school? Assuming it is expensive and one does not have the money, are there scholarships to apply for?

How many in Britain have this 'gift'? Are there many others? I am assuming we are in minority compared to those who do not..?

Lastly, are there other schools like Hogwarts in Britain? Are there other ways of learning how to control ones magic in case one choose not to attend a school of magic, over distance maybe?

For now these are my primary questions. I will be thankful for answers to them before I make my decision.

Thank you in advance, yours sincerely, Harry James Potter.

Satisfied with his letter Harry put it in his pocket with the other ones. He strolled about the area thinking about this new development for quite a while.

This would change his plans no matter what. Although the knowledge of what he could do, apparently intentionally if he practiced somehow, was good to have no matter what he decided. When he finally made his way back it was mid afternoon and he was starving.

Dudley appeared to be out as the house was quiet; that was very good. Vernon was still at work at this hour. Only the hag nearby to annoy him, which she got right down to as soon as he had found some cereal and yoghurt which he took to the table. She appeared in the doorway throwing him the usual glare.

"So now it suits the gentleman to make an appearance?" She sneered at him. "When you are done leeching on our food supply you are to clean up the flowerbeds at the front of the house", she ordered.

Harry gave her an indifferent look before getting back to eating. Then it hit him he should use this opportunity to confront Petunia about anything she might know about his 'gift', while the others were still out.

"Aunt Petunia?"

"What? Go on, I don´t have time to stand here listening to your stupid questions all day", she said while stretching her neck to see properly out the window. Apparently she wanted to get in some quality 'spying in the neighbors-time' before she had to start making supper.

"I got a letter today."

"A letter for you? Who would write you?" She mocked absentmindedly.

"It was an acceptance letter to a school, Hogwarts." He said calmly, carefully observing her reaction.

It was if she had frozen in place at his last word. Slowly she turned to face him. "Do you know what that school is?"

"Only what´s in the letter, which is not much, I grasped that I have certain talents though."

She snorted disdainfully, "talents? That´s one way of putting an abnormality."

"You knew. All this time you knew and you did not tell me."

"Of course I knew. How could you be anything else what with what my lovely sister and that husband of hers both were?"

"My parents had it to? Does that mean it is genetic?"

"Obviously, yes. Vernon and I hoped we could make you normal but it seems it was all in vain.

"Normal? That is all you ever wanted is it? How… unimaginative. Did you always want to be just ordinary? I doubt that, that is the reason you hated my parents isn´t it? You were jealo-".

Here Harry was cut of abruptly as Petunia slapped him. He brought his hand up to touch his stinging cheek as he looked up at her in slight surprise. The room was silent for a moment.

"That is why you hate me too", Harry stated with a flat tone. He got no answer to that.

Petunia had taken a seat at the table and still looked quite upset. He sat across the table from her, pulling out one of the acceptance letters which he put in the middle of the table.

"It said in the letter that I should send my reply by owl. I do not know what that means; I am wondering if you do? I want to know what else you know of this school. I have written a letter of questions I want to send the school somehow, which I want answered before I accept."

"What makes you think we would let you go to that place to be taught abnormalities by those freaks?"

"If you think about it, it is simple really. Either you have an unwanted nuisance hanging about your home for the entirety of the year or you could send me away to this boarding school far, far away and be rid of me for most of the year." When he put it like that Harry himself felt a lot more tempted accepting a place at this school. "You would almost never have to see me or be reminded of your belated sister."

Petunia looked mad, then thoughtful for a long moment. Then her expression suddenly morphed into determination. She gave a sharp nod. "Alright, I will agree. Do as you like, we´re better of rid of your sort from our home."

Harry blinked owlishly. Well that was easy. "But do not think we will pay one cent for you to go to that… school, you will have to produce any money you may need as best you can on your own", she added as an afterthought.

Well, Harry thought as he rolled his eyes, it was not as if he had ever expected anything else, from such a loving family.

"To send your reply to those… people, just put it in a regular mailbox, like you would when sending mail to normal people. Instead of an address you write the name of the receiver and the location… Hogwarts. I do not know how but it reaches them eventually somehow. They must have some kind of department dealing with the transactions between us and them."

Huh, well at least that made some sense. They might have written that in the letter though Harry thought to himself.

"Okay. Thank you aunt Petunia, I will do that."

She gave him a short nod before turning to the refrigerator as it was now time to start preparing dinner.

Harry took that as a dismissal and went to the nearest post office to send his letter.

When he came back home the Dursleys had already eaten and Dudley was absorbed in one of his videogames.

Vernon and Petunia were seated at the kitchen table with mugs of tea in front of them. Their conversation halted when Harry came into the room.

They both stared at him for an awkward moment. Going by the even more contemptuous than usual look Vernon was giving him Harry interpreted that he now knew about the latest developments.

"Öhrm, I´m just going to make a sandwich", Harry declared. He made one quickly before retreating to his cupboard; meanwhile he got no reply other than the icy stares.

Well, if looks could kill. Hmpf, that is not just a little cliché. What an odd day. Though I must say my life looks more interesting all of a sudden.

He chewed on his sandwich thoughtfully before falling asleep early after a long strange day.