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Chapter Two
Harry padded down the stairs to the sounds of Aunt Petunia cooking breakfast, and the low rumble of Dudley's widescreen television that he had got as a reward. For what Harry didn't know, but he betted that it wasn't for something good.
"Duddikins, breakfast!" He heard his Aunt call from the kitchen.
"Not now!" Dudley yelled, not taking his eyes off the screen.
Harry sighed and tiptoed past the living room door. He wanted to perform a small spell, just to make sure he was of age. When Sixty Ministry Officials swoop down on me, then I'll know, he thought to himself, realising that the Ministry were probably too busy searching for Voldemort and his Death Eaters than to worry about underage wizardry.
Harry sat down on the hall carpet as quietly as he could. He drew his wand and muttered:
"Accio post!"
That days letters flew towards him, and he caught them neatly in his hand, unseen. Bills, bills, bills, and… Harry couldn't believe his eyes. A scrap of what looked like parchment had fluttered out of the pile of brown envelopes. He stared at it for a moment, thinking it would turn out to be a hallucination. A minute passed and Harry grabbed the scrap of paper. It had a word written on it in strangely familiar italic script:
Death
Harry's heart quickened. The word looked like it had been torn off part of a letter. Harry's brain buzzed with questions. Who was the letter for? Harry was almost certain it had been written by a wizard, by someone he knew. Why had a part of the letter been torn off? Why had it been put into a postman's bag of letters? And how, mysteriously, had the parchment become mixed up with the Dursley's post, and put through Number Four's letterbox? Pocketing the scrap and gathering up the bills, Harry entered the kitchen, thinking hard.
As soon as he entered, the room became silent. The Dursley's still hadn't forgotten about Dumbledore coming to collect him unexpectedly last summer. When he first arrived back from Hogwarts, Uncle Vernon had taken great pleasure in yelling at him for a whole three hours about 'that Wizarding scum'. Harry had stayed silent throughout this outburst, although with much difficulty, and had noted with a smile that his Uncle had glass-shaped scars on the side of his forehead.
Aunt Petunia motioned Harry to the kitchen table angrily, then said:
"Breakfast, Poppet!"
"Muuuuum! I can't miss this again!"
Uncle Vernon peered around the newspaper he was reading as Harry sat down, but surprisingly said nothing to Harry.
"Come on, Dudders, we've got your portable in here!"
Dudley switched off the television and waddled into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia placed two large plates of egg and bacon in front of Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and a piece of burnt toast in front of Harry.
"So," His Uncle began, his mouth half full of egg. "Still not combed your hair?"
"Shhh!" Dudley hissed, spraying the tablecloth with egg and turning up the television volume.
"No." Harry replied through gritted teeth, resisting the temptation to draw his wand.
"We're going out today, to the theatre."
"Wow." Harry answered with a sarcastic tone.
A look of anger flitted across Vernon's face.
"No scum allowed, so you and that scumbag you call a headmaster wouldn't be allowed in." He hissed menacingly.
Harry drew his wand and stood up, pointing it at Uncle Vernon with pure hatred. Aunt Petunia shrieked.
" He is not a scumbag!" Harry yelled. Everything he had ever learnt told him to curse the whole family that had tortured him for most of his life. Instead, he ran out of the kitchen and up to his room, still blazing with anger. He had to get out of here. He grabbed a bent quill and a bottle of ink and scrawled a note to Ron.
'Hi
Meet me, pack-'
A loud squawking from Hedwig made his next word into a blob of ink.
"Shhh!" He said angrily, turning round. He leapt up with excitement when he saw.
A familiar ball of feathers had collapsed with exhaustion on to of Hedwig's cage.
"Pig!" He cried, carefully taking the small scroll and the parcel off the owl's leg.
'Hi Harry!
Me and Ron are both at the Burrow. Are you ok? Has your scar been hurting
Lately? Ron's mum says that she can pick you up any day now, or perhaps you
apparate? Transport's a bit tight at the ministry, the only way we could collect
you is if we were surrounded by a team of Aurors. You could fly on your broom, I
hear the Disillusionment charm's quite good. No, because then you might get
Captured…..'
This went on for a few more paragraphs, mainly about Hermione's worries, and the best possible way to get him to the Burrow, then:
Well, anyway. Happy Birthday! Ron re-took his Apparition Exam and failed.
We've been practising Side-Along Apparition. At first Ron wasn't too keen, but
We've practised for three days now and it's getting easier. Ron reckons it's his
'style' but I'm the one doing all the hard work! Typical Ron!
Goodbye Harry, see you very soon!
Lots of love,
Hermione
P.S: Hope you like your present!
Harry laughed, the first since he had been at Hogwarts, but left the tiny blue parcel untouched on his bedside table. Suddenly, he felt very weary, and got into bed, fully clothed. He stared at the shelf with Dumbledore on it.
"I'll do it, Sir," He muttered to himself. "I'll kill him and Snape."
He removed his glasses and fell asleep for the first time in a week.
