Harry hadn't thought much of the letter Uncle Vernon had thrown in the fireplace. After all, he was always upset about junk that came in the mail - that wanted to sell him something or another. It did seem unusual that he'd burn it rather than simply throw it out, but the placid satisfaction on his face was enough to tell Harry that it had probably been from someone he disliked.
The next day, there were three trained owls outside on the mailbox. All with the letter, Harry Potter saw, as he strode to collect the mail. Aunt Petunia came rushing out, and grabbed all the mail from Harry before he could even read where the letters were from. "Parcel coming." Aunt Petunia said to herself, as she stepped back inside. Harry noticed his Aunt using the snippers on the letters, which was odd. Were they some sort of credit line? Something that had sensitive information? As far as Harry had seen, she hadn't even opened them.
The next day, a flood of twenty letters came out of the fireplace - there seemed to be a lot of trained owls. And weren't owls supposed to be nighttime beasts? Harry made a mental note to look it up later. He bent over to pick up one of the letters, and Aunt Petunia scowled, saying, "Give me that rubbish."
But, the damage was already done. Harry had seen his name on the letter, and if there was one thing that could be said about the lad, he was a curious thing. "Are they all addressed to me, then?" Harry asked, his eyes bright with accusation.
"Yes, but they're just malarkey. I won't have you getting all twisted up over some sort of silly schoolyard prank." Aunt Petunia said.
"Can't I read them, even? Not that I'd believe them, of course, but... I'd like to know what the lads came up with. So I can be prepared, the next I see them. Tell them what a good laugh I had over the jape."
Aunt Petunia said coldly, "I'm throwing them out, and good riddance to rubbish." Harry Potter just glared at her. "Finish up with the roses today, I've got a garden party tommorrow."
As Harry Potter went outside, Aunt Petunia stepped lightly out with him, draping her arm over his shoulders and around his neck from behind. Lightly, as if she was saying nothing at all, she said, "Wake up early tommorrow." Her hand just as quickly released him. Harry Potter knew better than to respond, but if - for once, he finished the roses on time, and had the bacon set up for the morrow, no one would fault him.
The next morning Harry was up before dawn, and grabbed three of the letters, swiftly sliding one of them into the grill under the stairs, to where it was impossible to see. The other two, he carried inside, as he started breakfast. Sadly, but expectedly, Dudley's hunger had him up in the morning - "Mom! Harry's got a letter or two!" He called, his voice carrying.
Aunt Petunia fairly flew down the stairs, her horsefaced visage as long and straight as an arrow - and as deadly. Harry dropped the bacon in the pan, and bolted towards his cupboard, one letter still in his hand. Uncle Vernon was there, and he grabbed Harry up. "What have you got here?" The gruff, tubby man said.
"It's a letter. Addressed to me." Harry said, his voice touching slightly on defiance.
"No need for such things for you. We get you what you need, and it isn't from school." Uncle Vernon threw the letter - and the five that Aunt Petunia carried inside, into the fire. "You can just watch them burn. Pretty, isn't it?" Harry sent his glare at the letters, instead of Uncle Vernon, knowing that it would make him less likely to be punished.
Before dawn the next morning, Harry Potter pulled the letter out from under the stair. "Hogwarts?" He asked himself. "A toad or a cat? What sort of school wants a cauldron anyway?" Teeming with questions, he lay down to contemplate them in his bedroom under the stair.