Harry began rushing as quickly as he could towards the house. He didn't know what time it was but from the position of the sun, he could tell it was late afternoon. He was worried that his uncle might hit him again for not waking in time to make the breakfast or his aunt might throw a new cleaning implement at his head for making her do the house work. It was a Wednesday so Dudley was either at school or at Piers' house as was the routine, meaning Harry wouldn't be interrupted by his cousin when rushing to complete the chores he knew where written on the table despite last night's activities.

Nevertheless, Harry still rushed around upon entry trying to locate the letter he had seen hanging from the owl. Not for a second did he stop to think about why it was tied to the animal and not just posted because he knew if he did then he would convince himself that it hadn't been real. Harry did not want to give up hope. He had dreamt of the day that a far off relative would find out of his existence and come to retrieve him from the Dursley's. If he had stopped to think, he would have noticed the snowy owl that was perched on the roof of the shed that he had originally emerged from.

However Harry grew more and more disappointed as he came to the last room without any luck as to where it had been. The kitchen was a mess; his aunt didn't know much about cooking so when she was forced to work there was always a mixture of substances that had spilled on to the kitchen surfaces. Pots and pans of all shapes and sizes lay in the sink, abandoned by their owner and Harry found amusement at the thought of what they had for breakfast since most of the pans were not designed for the purpose they had obviously been used. Like he had guessed, his list of chores was still sat on the round table in the middle of the room but no letter could be seen. A quick search through the draws and Harry was ready to admit defeat.

However when Harry turned to the table, ready to make a start on his chores, a large hand wrapped itself around his throat and pushed him against the wall. Harry's eyes franticly darted all over the place in an effort to locate the reason behind his predicament until they finally came to rest on Vernon's bulging eyes and sickeningly sadistic smile. Harry winced at the thought of what his uncle was about to do to his already battered body but Vernon Just leant down to Harry's ear and whispered to him knowingly.

"Are you looking for that letter boy? Well you're not going to find it. I've already burned it and when they don't receive a reply, they will forget all about you."

In one quick movement, Vernon punched Harry in the stomach and allowed him to crash to the floor. Before leaving he spat at the ground Harry was occupying and with one final hearty laugh, Vernon could be heard leaving through the front door.

Harry knew better than to cry. It would only get him in to trouble and waste time that he needed to complete his chores. He had learnt from a very young age what would make his Aunt and Uncle even more brutal but he never did learn how to stop the beatings all together. Despite this, one small lonely tear made its way down Harry's cheek while he picked himself up off the ground and moved to get the list. Never had he been in so much pain. Never had he let himself have hope.

However, as the week began to pass, Harrys Uncle was proven wrong. The people who had sent the letter didn't give up. In fact, they soon began sending a letter or more a day, each time a new owl was perched nearby until the letters were found before they took flight once more. His Uncle always managed to get the letters before Harry had a chance but it didn't bother Harry. He would find a way to get the letter but for now the knowledge that someone was trying this hard warmed him.

In the meantime, Harry turned his attention to the mode of transport. He became fascinated with the creatures and invested his little spare time in to studying them and their movements. They weren't like any owl he'd read about. These owls seemed to hide intelligence behind their eyes. So, when on the Sunday, his Aunt had ordered him to weed the garden, Harry saw an opportunity to get close to the creatures.

Every day, there would be an owl that came in the morning, noon and night. Each delivered a letter and waited nearby till it was found. One had landed on to of Vernon's car and he had been furious and hit Harry like it was his fault. So, imagine his surprise when on the morning he might reach the letter first, no owls showed up. Harry continued to look at the sky as he went about his work but not one came and before he knew it, his aunt was calling him in to serve them tea.

Inside, Harry quickly made the sandwiches in hopes of getting out side again to look out for a delivery. It had only been one morning but Harry was starting to think they had given up. He wouldn't be surprised, not many people would send the same letter 3 times a day for a week but still Harry longed to get outside again.

When he made his way in to the Livingroom, the effect the owls had had on his Uncle was blatantly obvious. Vernon was a pale, with bloodshot eyes and frizzy hair that gave him the air of a mad scientist or an Asylum escapee. Upon seeing him, Vernon took a sandwich off the plate Harry was carrying and started speaking to his son.

"Do you know what I like about Sundays, Dudley?" he said with wide smile on his face.

Dudley wasn't listening and barley gave a grunt in response before turning back to watch the TV. Vernon didn't seem to notice and continued to stare at him with a look of content waiting for an answer.

"There's no post on Sunday sir?" Harry pipped up, thinking that that might be the reason for the lack of letters.

"Right you are boy. No Post on Sundays." Vernon said happily, chuckling away like a mad man.

Suddenly, the house began to shake and a load rumbling followed suite. Pictures crashed to the floor, crockery flew off tables and Dudley leapt in to his mother's arms. Steadying himself, Harry looked out the window to see what could be causing the commotion and found 100s of eyes staring back it him. Owls of all shapes and sizes were lining the street and staring at the house but no letters could be seen.

The two mysteries were solved in one however, when dozens of letters flew in to the Livingroom. Each one was exactly the same and it took a overwhelmed Harry longer than it should have to try and get one while he could. Slowly and discreetly Harry bent down to retrieve one and started making his way out of the room. In the commotion, he could see his uncle flapping his arms about as if he would be able to catch all the letters at once. But when Harry was mere centimetres away from the door, his uncle turned to catch a letter flying past his face and spotted Harry in the process.

In a last effort, Harry bolted for the door. His uncle wasn't very fast on his best day so Harry thought he was in with a chance of getting away to read the letter, maybe lock himself in the shed, but the need for the letters contents to be kept secret drove Vernon into a frenzy and before Harry could even make it past his cupboard, Vernon had pushed Harry against the wall and was ripping the letter to shreds.

As the pieces floated down around him, Vernon screamed "That's It. We are going somewhere they will never find us!"