Harry sat there for a long time, watching the sun sink lower and lower. He liked sunsets. The way the sun would dye the sky in the most extraordinary colours had always made him feel like something big was going on and that, maybe, he might one day be a part of it. Today a few clouds were in the sky, breaking the colours and making it look even more beautiful. There was orange, pink, red, and even some purple. He loved watching as the sky kept changing. But unfortunately this also meant that he didn't have much time left. His aunt and uncle always wanted him back home before the street lamps turned on. On one occasion, he had been a few minutes late. Just thinking about the speech Vernon had given him made him get anxious. He should probably head back.
The letter still in his pocket, he got up and slightly adjusted his trousers. Leaving the house, his aunt and uncle had noticed nothing and when returning, they hopefully wouldn't either. He just wondered if it might be better to just keep the envelope where it was until after dinner, or if he should hide it in his closet again. He thought it best to decide spontaneously. Maybe he would get the chance to go to the bathroom before dinner, thus being last to arrive in the kitchen.
"Shouldn't you be home already, Harry?" The sudden appearance of Mrs Figg caused Harry to almost fall off the swing. There she was, looking at him as if he was the first person she had encountered for centuries. As mostly, she wore a hairnet under which her grizzled grey hair seemed to do whatever it wanted, and tartan carpet slippers. Harry didn't understand how she could possibly walk around in slippers all the time, especially in winter.
"I was just about to go back, actually." Harry stood up and walked over to where she stood at the fence. In this light, she looked even older than normally and that was quite something.
"Better hurry up then, you don't want to get into trouble, do you?" Harry nodded as his neighbour turned around and slowly walked away. She was weird.
Harry looked after her for a while but then turned around and left the playground. The street lamps would very soon turn on, so he had to hurry up. When he was about two or three yards away from the Dursley's house, the lamps did turn on and he started running. Hopefully his aunt and uncle wouldn't be too angry with him. He saw the door open and light shining out of the corridor, when he was only one house away. Coming closer, he recognised a familiar looking silouhette, impatiently tapping his foot.
"You're late." Harry stopped in front of his uncle, bent over and put his hands on his knees, panting heavily. He tried to say something but couldn't. His uncle stepped aside, grabbed him by his arm, and pulled him inside rather roughly.
"Sorry, I forgot the time and I really hurried up to be punctual but I guess I can't run fast enough." Harry said his apologies very fast and without any intonation, glad to be through the sentence and able to breathe again.
"I don't care about what you did or why you are late. Be happy that I won't deny you dinner. Get to the bloody kitchen." Vernon started in direction of the kitchen, still clutching Harry's arm but the latter freed himself and, after telling his uncle, who didn't give a damn, that he needed the loo, he went upstairs and into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and sighed. That had been close. He imagined his uncle accidently touching his leg with his own, feeling that there was something inside his pocket, something which did not belong there. But it had not happened and as soon as he passed his cupboard, he would hide the letter in there again. Not underneath his pillow this time but underneath his mattress.
Harry left the bathroom and hurried down the stairs as quietly as possible. He didn't want to risk anyone coming out of the kitchen while he hid the envelope, so he had to be silent. Slowly, he opened the cupboard door and slid inside. Not even bothering to turn on the light, he just grabbed the mattress, lifted it up, and put the letter there before pushing it down again neatly. With the little light coming in from the corridor, he checked that his bed did not look suspicious. It did not. Harry retreated from his tiny bedroom and closed the door. Once the deed was done, he sighed in relief.
Upon entering the kitchen, the three Dursleys were already sitting at the table, two of them shoveling food into their mouths so fast it was a miracle they hadn't choked on anything yet, and Petunia blatantly ignoring the fact that her husband and son both ate like pigs. Harry was used to this sight and chose to ignore it, too. When sitting down, Vernon stopped for a second to make a remark about how long his nephew had been in the bathroom, just to continue eating like a man who hadn't been eating for weeks. Harry ignored this, too.
Almost nothing of the Lancashire Hotpot, which his aunt had obviously made, was left. Harry hurried up to put a bit on his plate to get at least some food in his belly. Normally you'd think that people had the decency to wait until everyone was sitting at the table and until everyone had a serving on his plate but not the Dursleys, oh no. Not if it was their nephew they would have to wait for, anyway. But Harry was used to it and absolutely okay with it. As long as he got something to eat at all, there was nothing to complain. Not that he would ever dare to complain about anything anyway.
Harry didn't like sitting on one table with his so-called family. His cousin made really weird noises when eating, his aunt was always busy telling the latest news of the neighbourhood, and his uncle only grunted once in a while to show Petunia that he was listening. Or maybe he was just pretending that he was listening. Maybe he wasn't listening at all. Harry would've understood if his uncle had pretended. After all, who wanted to know that their direct neighbours' cat had caught and eaten not only two mice but also a bird today? Oh, that's right, nobody. Yet his uncle sat there and listened to his wife's stupid stories about even more stupid things she had been observing.
"I'm going to my room!" Dudley hadn't even swallowed the last bite of his dinner when he jumped up and hurtled out of the kitchen. Harry hated his cousin for this. He was envious that Dudley could do whatever he wanted to, leave right after he was done eating to go play computer games, go to bed whenever he wanted, and other priviliges he himself had never had and probably wouldn't ever have either. It made him angry.
"When you're done eating, put the dishes in the dishwasher. And turn it on." Petunia had stopped talking about the observations of the day without her nephew noticing. She and Vernon both had finished eating already and left the work for Harry, as most of the time. He didn't complain. He looked forward to being alone again.
"Yes, aunt Petunia." Harry had almost finished eating, too. He put another bite into his mouth while watching his aunt and uncle leave the kitchen. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he ruffled his hair, rolled his eyes, and sighed. He ate up fast, got up and started putting all the dishes in the washer. At some point, he started humming to himself, nothing in particular, just to pass the time. It only took him five minutes to place everything safely in the dishwasher. He turned it on and left the kitchen, hoping nobody would call after him to give him another chore. Luckily, nothing happened.
Harry sat down on his bed, turned on the light, and closed his cupboard door. Although he was small and skinny for his age, he would soon be to tall for the place he had been sleeping in until now. He wondered where his aunt and uncle would put him then. Maybe they would make him sleep in the garage next to the car. He didn't really want to think about it now, so he stopped and started wondering about something else. The letter. Harry took it out from under his mattress and, making sure nobody was in the corridor, noisily opened the envelope and took out the pieces of parchment. Reading these words again, he got a weird, light feeling in his chest. Maybe he would be able to go to this school. Maybe it was real. Maybe he would learn the most amazing magical things one day. Maybe he would have friends one day.
What Harry didn't think about, however, was the way he had to send a letter back to the school. He required an owl. Where would he get an owl? He didn't know. He didn't care either. Not yet, anyway. But he had to send back an owl by no later than July 31st. Today was July 24th. He had seven days to figure this out.
