Chapter Five

A Discussion of Letters

We didn't have to wait long.

"What are we going to do Vernon?" Petunia said sounding nervous.

"I don't know Pet, I just don't know." Vernon replied. I could hear the click of his shoes as he paced the length of the room. "They're not going. That's for sure."

"But- But what if they send one of them over here? I mean what would we even tell them?"

There was a long pause. Dudley shifted beside me to press his ear more firmly to the keyhole.

"We will think about that later," He finally responded. "I think a better question is how did this even happen? It isn't contagious is it?" The clicking of his shoes stopped.

"I-" she took a deep breath, and spoke more firmly, "no. Not that I know of anyway. I spent a lot of time with her as a child and I never showed any signs of that."

The clicking resumed. "Maybe- Maybe it's like a recessive gene or something," he said slowly.

The Silence was longer this time. Dudley looked about ready to burst into the room and demand answers, but Petunia broke the silence suddenly, sounding uncertain. "What will we do with these." I could hear the sound of paper shuffling, and knew what was to come. I could stop it, Dudley and I could probably wrestle the letters out of their hands, but I was reluctant. I haven't been hit while here yet, and I don't want to be hit either.

"Burn them, I don't want Dudley or the boy to stumble across them."

There was a pause before she responded. "Should we write back, tell them that we don't want-"

"No, if we don't answer maybe they'll give up."

"Vernon, I don't want to argue with you, but what if they assume we haven't gotten the letters when we don't respond . . . and send someone over."

Silence.

"Vernon?"

"I don't want my son to be exposed to do that." His voice was much quieter then it was a couple of minutes ago. "I don't want to lose him."

"Neither do I, but we may not get a choice."

"We should."

"I know, but just because we should doesn't mean we will."

That seemed like the end to the conversation, so I quietly stood and silently made my way out the front door. I now had more on my mind then I did previously.

Things are very different then I remember them to be.

I needed to do something repetitive and difficult while I thought. Weeding suddenly sounded like a great idea. Jabberwocks be damned.


I had a dream that night that in a castle somewhere in Scotland a rather severe looking woman was frowning down at a long scroll of parchment, on that parchment there was a long list of names.

She sighed as she circled three names on the long list. "There's always at least two sets of reluctant parents, who don't want to send their kids to Hogwarts. The stupidity of it," she muttered. "They don't seem to realize how dangerous not learning to control your magic can be! Do they seriously think that their child's magic will just go away if their kids don't know how to use it?" Her lips thinned. "Yes, they probably do." She shook her head disapprovingly and went back to work.

She had visits to make.


Posted: August 21, 2019