AN: Well! A big THANK YOU to everyone that has added this story to their alerts and favorites, added me to their alerts and favorites and a huge OMG you rock to everyone that has reviewed. OMG you rock! Just a note though, if you want me to respond to your review you have to enable private messaging otherwise I sit there clicking the reply link over and over wondering what I've done wrong.
Let's see…if you need a refresher on the disclaimer, you know, that whole thing where I am poor and own nothing so please don't make me beg. Yah, that thing, you may find it back in chapter one and I will not be writing it again. But I may remind to go looking for it again as it is entertaining.
Being that Harry is still at the Dursleys in this chapter, he will not be having a fun time so the child abuse warning is in play still. I might as well just leave it for the series because really? A troll? Having to accidentally kill a guy at the age of 11? Dragons? Yah…..
That being said-
Chapter 3: The Letters From No One
Previously in our saga-
At this, the table filled with a veritable feast provided by the Hogwarts house elves. People seemed to come out of their stupors and grabbed food to fill themselves after the emotional ups and downs of reading about the future.
Arthur got in an animated discussion with Lily and surprisingly (to almost everyone in attendance) Snape about the Muggle items he had written down. James and his two friends caught up with their lives and planned pranks on the Dursleys even though they knew they would never be allowed to act on those pranks.
The Weasley twins pulled their chairs up to their uncles and had a serious conversation about joke shops and terrorizing Molly Weasley.
After everyone had their fill of food and conversation (and the babies were fed, burped, changed and placed back in the playpen for the night) they all returned to their seats to read again.
Caradoc picked up the book. "Does anyone mind?" He waggled the book in the air and as there were no objections, he opened to the third chapter. "Chaprter Three: The Letters From No One."
The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.
"You okay there, Figgy?" asked Mundungus cheekily. Arabella simply raised an eyebrow at the thief and pantomimed hitting him with her purse. He shrugged but turned away all the same.
"Wait, when do the Muggle schools let out for summer?" asked Bill, confused as to the amount of time Harry had been punished.
Lily frowned a bit, "Well, Dudley's birthday is mid-June and from what I remember Grammar school lets out at the end of June. But the time frame seems to suggest Harry was in," Lily fisted her hands and took a deep breath, "in the cupboard." The last word spat out as a curse.
"So – about three weeks? Is that what we are guessing? He was in there mid-June to, what, the first or second week of July?" asked Charlie, taking up his brother's line of questioning and looking rather ill.
Mad-Eye nodded grimly. "Sounds, bout right, Weasley."
The room was silent as everyone contemplated the ramifications of locking a ten-year-old boy away in a cupboard with very little nourishment for perhaps a month. Many people shuddered in horror at the thought and many others, especially those who knew the future Harry, wondered how it was that this boy in the book was the same smiling, good-natured (sometimes scary when angered) boy they knew so well.
Lily felt angry, frustrated tears tracking down her face. She just couldn't keep her emotions from spilling out it seemed. She didn't even care to brush them away. Maybe it would help somehow to have those tears show. Maybe the headmaster would see and would feel even the slightest twinge of guilt about placing her baby boy with her heartless sister. Good, she thought, he deserves to know what he does effects us all and over lifetimes as well, not just in the moment of action.
Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.
Aberforth and a few others snorted at this. It was a perfect observation of basic human behavior that seemed to transcend past the magical world, unfortunately.
The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.
"Execrable elephant," muttered Sirius through clenched teeth as tried very hard not to growl and or yell. He didn't want to face his friend or for that matter his wife if the babies were woken up by yelling after having just been put down for the night.
This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.
"Why wouldn't Petunia have told-" started Benjy before shaking his head resignedly. "No, never mind. Please continue Cardy."
Caradoc squinted at the other man in annoyance before dragging his eyes back to the book, but not before muttering "Cardy" under his breath irritatedly.
Benjy just beamed a brilliant smile at his friend and batted his eyelashes innocently.
"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"
Alice wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Ugh, what a thoroughly loathsome child."
Kingsley nodded, "Yes, I believe we have established that." Alice stuck her tongue out at the Auror.
"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.
Lily let out a sudden snort, which devolved into a giggle. She was not alone in her levity. The tension in the room from the first few chapters lessened a bit tittering and amused chuckled traveled around the room.
James put a hand proudly on Lily's shoulder. "See? Told you he had Lily's personality. The come back was all over you, Lils."
She nodded her head and looked over at the playpen with fondness and touch of exasperation.
Snape cleared his throat before adding his thoughts quietly to the conversation. "I would tend to agree. The cheeky retorts are very much you, Lily." He looked up hesitantly (he would never admit fearfully) only to see his redheaded childhood friend smiling softly at him. Potter the elder looked torn between happy that someone was agreeing with him and appalled that that someone was Snape. He seemed to settle his face somewhere in between. It was not a good look on and Snape couldn't help the small smirk that edged its way onto his lips.
One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats,
Eyes turned to Arabella who slouched in her chair and refused to look at anyone.
and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.
"Mmmm," groaned George in mock longing. "That's just sounds like it could the spot, don't it?" His twin laughed before hastily shutting up after a stern look from Molly.
That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters.
Emmeline made a gagging noise and looked distinctly ill at the mental image of this description. Hestia patted her sympathetically on the shoulder of her always fashionable and never clashing robes.
They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.
Hagrid let out a loud disbelieving huff at this.
As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life.
Fabian and Gideon burst out in a fit of sniggering and pompously thumbed invisible suspender straps while declaring that, "this is the proudest moment of my life." "No, no, Dear Brother, this is the proudest moment of my life." "No, Brother –Mine, THIS is the proudest my life." "No, it's this moment, right now." "No, THIS."
As it didn't look like the Prewett twins wouldn't finish anytime soon Caradoc just decided to read over them.
Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.
There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast.
"Well, excess flatulence is to be expected from individuals who spend their time eating improper diets that bloat their bodies and tax their digestive tracts a great deal," stated McGonagall sternly.
The room's occupants stared at her for a full thirty seconds before peels of laughter rang out. The Weasley brothers all shared an awed look while wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. Minerva McGonagall – Minerva McGonagall – had quite possibly just told a fart joke.
It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.
Remus shook his head, "Oh yes, Merlin forbid."
"Your new school uniform," she said.
Harry looked in the bowl again.
"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."
The Order broke into laughter again at this. Even Snape's lips twitched in an upward movement. He stopped himself at rolling his eyes at the rather Lily-esque quip.
"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."
Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High - like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.
"Lovely," muttered Dorcas, shaking her head.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.
Snape did roll his eyes at this. "Ignoramus."
They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
A few eyebrows were raised at this perhaps in futile hope that the lazy sod would be forced to do something.
"Make Harry get it."
"Get the mail, Harry."
Those few hopeful eyebrows fell into frowns.
"Make Dudley get it."
"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
"Och!" McGonagall didn't have words to show how displeased she was with the Dursley's "care" of her pupil.
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band.
Arthur pulled the forgotten list of Muggle terms towards him and excitedly scribbled "eclastick bands."
No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives –
Kingsley frowned at that. "What happened to the volumes and volumes of Harry Potter fan mail?"
Dumbledore sighed, his answer would not be popular. Again. "I believe the ministry forwarded all mail to vault at Gringotts were it could be sorted and dealt with appropriately."
Remus leaned forward in his chair. He looked slightly flushed and clenched his fists on the tabletop as he looked at the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. "All of the Mail?" he asked and at Dumbledore's nod he hissed out a low angry growl that had many leaning slightly away from the werewolf. "Even the mail from those of us, like me, who had legitimate reasons to be contacting him? You diverted ALL of the mail away from a scared, abused little boy who came to think that no one could possibly want to talk to him?" Remus had started the questions in quiet voice but ended on his feet practically yelling at the old man across the table from him.
Lily and James looked furious as well, but kept their seats and simply folded their arms in annoyance and waited for Dumbledore to answer. Alice made sure to peek in on the two babies but both had miraculously slept through the yelling so far. They had curled up together in the middle of the playpen with Harry still sucking on one fist while the other was clutching at Neville's yellow footies.
Many other people were now looking at Dumbledore with looks that ranged from outraged to simply curious as to why ALL of the mail had been diverted.
Dumbledore shrugged and said, "Well, with the amount of post that young Harry had inspired it was simpler to allow the goblins to do their jobs excellently and expediently."
Remus just looked at him incredulously.
"But, if the goblins were already sorting the mail, could they not have had a list of friends of the family or something and sort accordingly?" asked Marlene reasonably.
People swiveled in their seats and looked again at Dumbledore. He sighed again and seemed to avoid eye contact with anyone as he answered. "That was not the deal that the Ministry made with Gringotts I'm afraid." The Order members sitting around the circular table in the Great Hall all felt the flimsiness of this excuse acutely.
Sirius pulled Remus back into his seat as Tonks hugged him in support.
Caradoc breathed loudly into the silence and decided that the best course of action would be to continue reading.
he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
"What!" Eyes turned to McGonagall who looked upset. She turned to Lily and James putting her hands over her heart as though committing an oath. "I swear to you both that I had no idea. As I am sure this is Harry's Hogwarts letter, as it seems no other letters were allowed to reach him," she sent a scathing look at the old man sitting next to her, "I swear to you both that I had no idea it was addressed as thus. The quill writes out the addresses on its own and I-" Here McGonagall had to stop as she sniffed loudly and brought out her hanky again to dab her eyes. She looked down at her lap as she finished quietly, "I swear to you both that I had no idea. I just stuff the envelopes and send them on their way."
Dumbledore appeared to want to comfort his former colleague but she inched away from him. McGonagall did not notice anyone moving until she felt arms come around her from her other side. She looked up at Lily Potter who was hugging her. "It's alright, Minerva. I know you would have done something if you knew. We don't blame you. It's alright." Lily squeezed her shoulders again and smiled at her before straightening up to return to her seat. As she passed him, she gave Snape's shoulder a tentative little pat as well and received a relieved hesitant sparkle of onyx eyes in return.
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.
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.
Edgar curled his lip in distaste. He really hoped that these Muggles wouldn't be mentioned much after this chapter.
Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.
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. -."
"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"
"Oh, this will not end well, I fear," groaned Elphias shaking his head against what he knew was coming.
Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.
"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.
"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon,
"Me," huffed Remus quietly with an angry look at Dumbledore.
"Ginny," murmured Charlie loud enough for his brothers to hear. The sniggered quietly at the memory of their baby sister sending a love letter to Harry Potter every month for five years after she learned to write.
shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.
"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.
Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.
Lily rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Always were one for drama weren't you, Tuney?"
"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"
They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.
"Serves him right," muttered someone but many nodded in agreement.
"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.
"I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."
Mad-Eye raised an eyebrow. "Does young Potter have a temper?"
Mostly everyone shrugged or shook their heads to the negative. The Weasley twins grinned, however and sniggered. "You could say that," nodded George.
"But that might be a bit of an understatement," finished Fred smiling wickedly at his twin.
Lily sighed and put her head in her hands while James looked highly amused. He leaned back in his chair and propped a foot on the edge of the table. "So," he sniffed reflectively, "it's not just the cheekiness then, eh?"
A muffled "shut up" was heard from behind Lily's hands.
"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.
Harry didn't move.
"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.
Sirius grinned and winked at James who was still leaning back with an amused expression at the total expense of his wife.
"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.
"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.
The amused look immediately vanished from James face as he dropped his foot and leaned forward in his chair. "Don't you dare touch my son you-" he clenched his jaw for a second before glancing at his two friends. "You foul fiend." Remus and Sirius shared a look and then turned to their friend and waggled their hands in the air as if to say "meh."
Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.
"Better position anyway," shrugged Mad-Eye.
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"
"Does the address reflect where the person calls home? Or what?" asked Tonks confusedly.
"Not necessarily," stated McGonagall turning towards her former student. "The addresses simply reflect where the receiver is most likely to be found in order to multiply the chance of a successful delivery and response to the letter."
Tonks blinked at her for a few seconds before slowly nodding and turning back to Caradoc. Others around the table tried not to chuckle as a quiet "Huh?" was heard from somewhere in Tonk's vicinity.
"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.
Dedalus chuckled. "Sounds like you, Mad-Eye."
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Both sets of twins looked at each other then laughed as the rest of the Order members removed their hands from their ears and glared at all four redheads.
"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want -"
Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.
"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...
Aberforth scoffed and shook his shaggy head. "Well if that isn't one of the stupidest plans I heard. Just let the Boy-Who-Lived fade into Muggle anonymity. Right."
"But -"
"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"
Snape hissed in displeasure as visions of his own childhood with his father flashed through his mind and melded with remembered glimpses of this fat Muggle from Potter's mind during their failed occlumency lessons. He surprised himself by feeling quite angry and upset at Vernon and Petunia Dursley for the way in which they their nephew. He surprised himself even more by empathizing with the younger Potter in a way he never thought he would. It felt as though he had been wearing blinders for nearly seven years and they had suddenly been lifted. He quickly reviewed all of his interactions with the irritating whelp and came to a conclusion that was not one Snape liked. At. All.
If young Potter was anything like he himself had been (and didn't that thought just turn the world upside down all on its own) then the brat would hide all of his insecurities and trauma behind a mask of independence and brazen attitude. Snape closed his eyes as he realized that is quite probably what Harry Potter had done. While he still may have had a touch of his father's arrogance, the attitude and casual brush off of safety rules was not due to that but to a deeper set of issues stemming from the Dursleys. He opened his eyes to the continued silence of the room, realizing that while he was having a quiet but no less profound epiphany the Great Hall had remained silent instead of devolving into chaos, as he would have thought would have happened.
The reason for the silence, however presented itself in the form of the man sitting next to Snape. Albus Dumbledore had not moved a muscle, but the angry, almost electric pulse of magic sizzled around him. His blue eyes were cold as he looked at the book in Caradoc's hands. Dumbledore, caught in his own memories only looked up when a hand landed on his shoulder. His brother looked down at him with an understanding, although not forgiving glimmer in his own blue eyes. Dumbledore nodded as he got himself back together and chanced at look at his old friend. Elphias gave him a small smile and nodded as well. She shook himself slightly and the heavy magic seemed to dissipate.
Everyone else breathed easier as the former headmaster visibly calmed. At seeing the slightly frightened and questioning looks coming from most of those around the table Dumbledore sighed and wearily rubbed his face. "It is never wise to attempt to 'stamp out' anyone's magic, as it were. The psychological, physical, magical and emotional repercussions are varied and quite dangerous. I am overjoyed that young Harry rose above these conditions to become the wonderful person some of us were lucky enough to know."
Snape noted the narrowed eyes and crossed arms that Aberforth displayed at these words. He raised an eyebrow in interest but refrained from commenting as the others around the table were muttering about mistreatment and child abuse again. He thought he caught mention of the Wizarding Child Welfare Offices again from Molly and Alice before Caradoc read aloud again, cutting off further mutterings.
That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"
Lily giggled incongruously. James looked at in astonishment. She shook her head and giggled again before saying, "Just sounds like Winnie the Pooh trying to get into Rabbit's. I just see his fat bum and legs poking out the other side of the door." Snape smirked, as did a few others in the room who knew what Winnie the Pooh was. James just nodded slowly and motioned for Caradoc to continue before his wife finally lost all her Gobstones.
"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."
"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."
"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.
"Er - yes, Harry - about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."
The explosion of sound, this time, came from Frank who, it seemed, could not hold it in. "Second Bedroom! That portly little tub of lard had two bedrooms while Jily's child had the cupboard! Atrocious." Lily and James scowled at Frank, though whether the scowl was in agreement with his statement or his use of the word "Jily" was anyone's guess.
"Why?" said Harry.
"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."
The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms:
"Four!" shouted Hestia, disgusted. Lily sighed sadly, again letting the tears fall down her face. She was not ashamed of the feelings of anger, frustration, sadness (and even a bit of pride in her future son for overcoming the hate his relatives heaped on him) that washed through her and out of her eyes. She quickly checked the babies to make sure they were still sleeping soundly. Lily cast a strong one-way sound buffer so they would be sure to stay sleeping with all the yelling that continued around the Hall. Alice looked furious as well but gave a grateful smile to Lily as she noticed the charm appear. Mad-Eye stamped his wooden leg down with a resounding BANG. Everyone grew silent and looked him, astonished. "At this rate we will finish these accursed books in time for those two," he pointed at the charmed playpen, "to go on their first dates. These things have already happened for most of us, so those of us from the future can do nothing about them. You past lot, just remember and change things for the better. But shut up about it here and now." Everyone blinked at him before a few nodded reluctantly.
one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog;
Arthur scribbled "Tank – why would a animal habitat be driven?" on his sheet of parchment.
in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle,
"Rye-full" was hastily added to the list.
which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.
"Of course." McGonagall rolled her eyes at the youth she had never met.
From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out..."
Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back.
"I'm sorry," said Charlie in shock, "but did the book just imply that he basically killed an innocent creature because he wanted his second bedroom back, a bedroom full of broken toys and unread books?" He looked around at his family and the others in the room. "Isn't that a sign of serious psychopathic tendencies to kill helpless creatures for no good reason when you're a child?"
No one said anything but several looked thoughtful. Dumbledore closed his eyes and shuddered a little at the memory of a long ago day when the matron of an orphanage informed him of Tom Riddle's involvement in the death of a rabbit. The signs had been there, he just didn't see them soon enough. No, be honest with yourself, Albus. You saw them, you just did not act on what you saw. Dumbledore sighed and added another failure to his own private list in his head.
Mad-Eye squinted at the second oldest Weasley boy. "Are you saying that Dudley Dursley is psychopathic?"
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know him, never met him. But, I mean, come one. It says that he enjoyed hurting people and not just Harry. And here he is hurting and killing helpless animals without a thought and showing no remorse for his actions. He just bears keeping an eye is all I'm saying." Several people nodded in agreement including Mad-Eye, who mumbled "Constant Vigilance" approvingly.
Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry,
Sirius snorted in disbelief.
made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -'"
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
"Damn," muttered Molly. Her children looked at her in surprise. "What?" she huffed. "Am I not allowed to express my displeasure at that…that-"
"Gelatinous, ghastly, godawful, grungy, grotesque, ghoulish, glutton of a gargoyle," supplied Snape with a quirk of an eyebrow and a ghost of a grin aimed at Remus and Sirius who both looked put out that Snape had once again out vocab-ed them in their verbal insult game.
Molly blinked at him for a second before nodding a shaky thank you. "Yes that. I am allowed to show how I feel about that man."
Charlie frowned before muttering, "Don't knock Ghouls," loud enough for his brothers to hear. They snickered quietly as Caradoc began reading again.
"Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley - go - just go."
Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.
Remus and Sirius burst out laughing. "If his plans go anything like James' did when we were young, it is bound to be a dismal failure," explained Remus to a confused Order.
"Hey!" frowned James, "I wasn't that bad." Lily patted him sympathetically on the arm as she kept her face looking at the tabletop in an effort not to laugh at her husband.
"Yes, you were, Prongs," laughed Sirius who stopped abruptly as all of his hair fell out and landed around his chair and on his lap. He looked up at James with wide eyes in time to see his friend return his wand to his pocket. Sirius turned to Remus for help before pointing at his friend and laughing instead. Remus, it turns out was rendered just as bald as Sirius. Both men laughed at each other before leaning over and rubbing each other's hairless heads with their hands. "For good luck!" cried Sirius.
Caradoc rolled his eyes at the trio. He decided to read before the two q-balls took their revenge on their friend.
The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.
He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door -
Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat - something alive!
Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face.
"Ha!" Edgar couldn't hold back the laugh at that image. Many others shared in the mirth of Harry trodding on Vernon Dursley's face.
Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.
Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.
"What did you think was going on there that three more letters needed to be sent?" asked Lily, confused as to how her son's hardship had gone so unnoticed.
McGonagall sighed. "It happens sometimes with letters sent to Muggle-born families that the letters are ignored or misplaced because of fear or ignorance. It is not unheard of to have to send multiple letters in order to reach these families. I thought that was what was happening. Again, I could have – should have looked into it more, but, I was so busy with everything else I…" the witch sighed and took a shaky breath before looking up at her former students. "There is no excuse to not looking into the letters. I am so sorry to the both of you and I – there is no excuse." McGonagall shook her head again and dabbed watery eyes with her hanky having not put it away from her previous guilty revelations.
"It's alright, Minerva. We understand and we have been through this before. We know you did what you could. Harry was not your ward after all and you had no reason to suspect anything wrong with my sister and her family." Lily smiled sadly at her former Head of House. She turned to the man sitting next to McGonagall. "You, on the other hand," her voice going cold and accusatory, "had every reason to look in on my son, especially when multiple letters were needed to reach him. He was your responsibility as you were apparently the one to decide where he went the night we – that night."
Dumbledore merely looked down at his hands and nodded a sad agreement to Lily's remonstrations. This seemed to break James from his silent contemplation of the situation. "Why were you the one to decide where our son went any way? What happened to our will? I know that Lily and I would never leave Harry to her sister to be raised. If Sirius wasn't available we had a few other people lined up to take care of Harry. None of which were you. What really happened that night?"
Many curious and furious eyes swiveled back to Dumbledore. They had not known about a will or any other candidates for Harry's caretakers. Dumbledore sighed once again and seemed to sink lower in his chair. "The Dursleys were the best place for Harry to go. He was protected there from any wizard or witch wanting to harm him." He closed his eyes again the accusatory stares of those at the table. "It was the best place for him," Dumbledore finished somewhat lamely.
Silence rang in the Hall for a second before Lily nodded jerkily. "We are not finished with this, sir. But in the interests of actually sleeping tonight that discussion can wait at least until tomorrow." Caradoc took the hint and picked up the book once more.
"I want -" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.
"Idiot." Emmeline rolled her eyes at the antics of the fat Muggle.
"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."
"Not hardly," scoffed McGonagall.
"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."
"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.
"An thank Merlin for tha," said Hagrid.
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.
Marlene frowned. "Really, Minerva, that is an excessive amount to not notice something is wrong."
McGonagall sat up primly at this and carefully did not look at the man sitting next to her. "I had informed the proper channels that there was a problem with Harry receiving his letter. However, I could do nothing but send more letters. I am not allowed to directly interfere in these cases unless asked to do so." It was clear to everyone that the responsibility to look into problems of this nature or at least delegate someone else to look into the problem fell to the headmaster. And, as he had refused to do anything about it, more letters were sent to number four, Privet Drive.
Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.
Many people snorted and some raised their eyebrows at the apparent insanity creeping upon the Muggle.
On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.
Arthur added this new contraption to his ever-growing list while shaking his head at the actions of these Muggles. All this effort expended towards avoiding Harry reading his letter when they could save themselves by simply allowing the boy to view his post and replying.
"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.
"Loads of people," muttered Remus moodily still upset by his own letters to Prongs' son having never been delivered.
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.
"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -"
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets.
Eyebrows raised at the amount of letters. McGonagall shrugged unrepentantly. "I was rather irritated by the lack of response at this point and wanted to make sure that they understood the importance of the letters."
The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.
Fred and George grinned at each other before quietly and proudly murmuring, "Seeker."
"Out! OUT!"
Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall.
Angry noises erupted in the Hall again but Caradoc, sensing another long outburst of "We hate the Dursleys and here's why," began reading again to avoid the delay.
When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.
"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"
He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.
They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.
"He's worse than you, Mad-Eye," exclaimed Tonks, impressed with the Muggle's paranoia.
"Shut up," grumped Mad-Eye.
They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering...
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.
"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:
Mr. H. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth
McGonagall smirked at the dumbfounded looks she was receiving for the sheer number of letters sent to Harry Potter in order for him to open at least one.
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.
"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.
"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.
"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon.
"Yup!" said Gideon popping the final p in the word like bubble gum.
Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.
It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.
"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "
Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television - then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun - last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.
Snape sighed in blossoming regret. So, not spoilt in the slightest then. He looked across the table towards an irate Lily and thought how angry she was going to be when his past self appeared in this story. Because she would be so furious with the way he acted towards young Harry Potter. Looking at it now with his new epiphany cleared eyes, Snape saw that his actions and attitude were based on spite and revenge against a deceased James Potter. Yes, Lily was definitely going to be quite angry with Snape. And he really couldn't blame her as he found himself quite discomfited with his younger self as well.
Remus scowled, "Why those horrible, heinous, horrid, horrendous, hateful, horrific hooligans!"
Sirius laughed and gave him a high-five before turning to Snape and childishly sticking his tongue out and giving a loud, "Ha!"
Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered at the mutt. "I believe you used at least three words that were all derivatives of each other. How very droll." Remus turned slightly pink at this and Snape smirked. At least he could feel secure in his animosity with these intellectually challenged cretins even as he lost his footing with Harry Potter.
Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.
"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"
It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.
"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"
A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.
A loud slap was heard and everyone turned to Benjy who was slowly wiping his hand down his face; evidence of his irritated face-palm.
"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"
It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.
"His imbecilic lunacy is going to get them all killed," moaned Alice, not liking the situation her friends' son was in.
The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.
Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.
"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.
"Keep laughing you icky, immoral invertebrate." Arthur shrugged as everyone looked at him. "Well, I tried. Not as good as some, but still, I think I got feelings known."
Fred shook his head fondly at his father. "Pathetic, that was."
He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.
As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.
"Argh!" cried Lily who threw hands up in frustration with her sister and their family. She put her head on the table and just let the tears fall. She couldn't even express her anger in words any longer. It was just too much. She felt James rub her back in comforting circles and silently thanked him for his support.
The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.
Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.
Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?
Those that did not know what was happening leaned forward, eager to hear what was going on. These sounds did not seem like they would bode well for the little boy, after all.
One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine - maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... two... one...
Everyone leaned in ever closer. Caradoc grinned mischievously before reading the next line.
BOOM.
Caradoc yelled with an accompanying loud slap on the table. His grin turned into a smirk as nearly everyone shouted in surprise and recoiled back into their chairs.
"Cardy!" shouted Hestia with a hand to her bosom. He simply laughed and ignored the glares as he read the final part of the chapter aloud.
The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.
"That's the end of the chapter, folks," said Caradoc putting the book on the table in front of him. Dumbledore cast a tempus to see that it just half past nine.
"We might have time for another chapter before bed if we are all willing to sit up for a little bit more." At the interested looks from everyone around the table, and the fact that no one moved to get up, he nodded. "Alright, in an effort to finish another chapter tonight, then, I suggest all grievances be aired tomorrow or perhaps when we have finished this book? Or even, dare I suggest it, at the conclusion of all the books?" He looked hopefully at the stony faces of Lily Potter and many others and sighed. "Tomorrow it is then. Now, who would like to conclude our reading for the night?"
James stood up and walked around the table to retrieve the book. "I will, if no one minds. Maybe this next chapter will finally get my son away from the clutches of my 'in-laws'." He emphasized the final words with air quotes before plopping down in his chair and opening the book. He cleared his throat importantly before smiling widely and reading, "Chapter Four: The Keeper of the Keys."
AN: Phew! Another one down. I wanted to let you all know that I am going on vacation tomorrow and may not get updates up as quickly as I would like, what with all the fun I'll be having and gallivanting I will be doing.
P.S. What do you all think of Pottermore? I think it is cool that JK is getting into fanfiction, but I don't know. Right now I am sort of feeling meh about it. (Although that didn't stop me from putting me email down for Pottermore updates and whatnot)