Chapter 1

The material of the envelope was thicker than normal paper. It was soft and had a yellowish tint to it. Any doubt that this was some prank of his relatives, the Dursleys, to give him the portrait and then snatch it away to make him feel miserable, flew out of the proverbial window. They would never do anything 'abnormal' as not using a normal paper. It was sealed with an emerald green wax seal with the same potter crest on it.

Harry, afraid of damaging the envelope, tried to detach it from the portrait gently. To his astonishment, it got off way too easily. "Woah!", he whispered, "How was it attached till now if it came off so easily?". Magic? He thought. But magic isn't real…right? At least that's what his aunt and uncle had told him. Not that he really had any reasons to believe them.

As soon as he moved to break the seal, he heard footsteps descending the stairs that he could recognize as his aunt's. He frantically reached for the switch to turn off the light so she wouldn't know he was still awake. He waited as he listened to the approaching footsteps wishing that she hadn't heard his movements. When she didn't stop at the door to his closet and he heard her move towards the kitchen instead, he gave out a silent sigh of relief.

When she finally went upstairs Harry decided not to risk getting caught, also, if he wanted to wake up in time to make the breakfast tomorrow, he needed his sleep. It would do him no good to get scolded the first thing on his birthday. Anyway, tomorrow he was going to have the whole day to himself in his cupboard as the Dursleys were going out. Apparently, they didn't want to ruin the day by being in the company of the 'freak' on his birthday; who knew if he would corrupt their precious 'Duddydums'. Harry often had to suppress a snort from escaping him on the nickname. He would have been sent to their neighbour Mrs. Figg but she was unavailable and they didn't trust him with the house to himself, so, he would be locked in his cupboard till they returned at night.

He felt it difficult to fall asleep with his thoughts on the contents of the letter but eventually, tiredness overtook his curiosity and he fell in the world of dreams with his parents' portrait in his arms and a real smile on his face, after five years.

He was woken up the next morning, by a shrill cry of "Up!", by his aunt. He was sent to make the breakfast, after he got a broken toy car and a full 15 minutes lecture on how he should be grateful for their kindness, by his uncle. He was allowed to eat a buttered toast and an unburnt piece of bacon for once, even though he was the one who cooked them in the first place. He watered the flowers while the others got dressed to leave. He was locked in the cupboard with a little lunch after receiving a warning against doing anything freakish, while Dudley made faces at him thinking that he would be jealous, and for once, he was grateful. He grinned at his cousin's disappointed sigh at failing to bait him. He heard the front door getting locked, the roar of the car engine and the sound of it moving away from the house.

Harry smiled to himself as he took out the portrait of his parents from where he had hidden it, and hugged it to his chest. After a few minutes, he put it down gently, on his lap and picked up the envelope. His hands shook with nervousness as he tried to open it, without breaking the seal, with his fingers. He was able to do that successfully. He took out the letter, it was made of the same material as the envelope. He opened the letter slowly, it was written in ink, and his eyes immediately fell on the first part of the letter that said 'Dear Harry'. "Who will address to me like this?", he whispered. His eyes swept to the bottom. It said 'Love, Mama and Dada'. He started shaking like a leaf not even feeling the letter slip from his hands. The letter was from his parents? But how could this be possible? His mother and father were dead! Was this some kind of sick joke? His eyes sparkling with unshed tears, Harry looked towards the letter with apprehension, but felt the same calming feeling he had felt from the box earlier. After he had composed himself a little, he reached for the letter and held it. Something inside him was telling him that it really was a letter written by his mother. He took in a deep breath and started reading it.

'Dear Harry,

If you are reading this letter that means me and your Dada, as you call him now, are dead. As much as I don't want this to happen, one can never be too sure in times like this.' 'What does she mean by times like this?', Harry wondered but continued reading. 'It's 25th October, 1981 and you are playing happily in your father's arms, I should be happy seeing this but I get this weird feeling that this will not last long. This is the reason why I'm writing this letter. Let me start by telling you something I want to believe that you already know but, have reasons to believe that the person we are trusting to tell you, won't. Your father is a wizard and I'm a witch, son.' "What?!", Harry exclaimed," magic is REAL!". But that would explain everything that had happened to him including the appearance the box. He continued with reading the letter. 'A magic charm is how I made sure that this box will appear at the stroke of the midnight hour on your 6th birthday. The portrait that came with this letter can be enlarged by pressing your thumb to the mouth of the lion on the crest. A needle will prick your finger and take a drop of your blood to make sure you are you, Harry Potter, but don't worry, it will heal as soon as the blood is taken. And child, magical portraits can talk. We didn't want to startle you by suddenly appearing in front of you and starting to talk, that's why I'm writing this letter. We will be able to talk to you as soon as you enlarge the portrait. Looking forward to it.

Love,

Mama and Dada.'

Harry didn't want to waste a single second in thinking about this. He wouldn't have cared even if the cut wasn't going to heal. He didn't even notice the happy tears flowing down his eyes as he moved to touch the lion, thoughts of being able to talk to his parents, for the first time in as long as he could remember, making him forget everything else.

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