A/N: I feel so loved with all the reviews and favorites and alerts. Thank you so much! You guys are awesome! Anyway, I hope you like this; please tell me if you have any suggestions on how I could make it better!

Also I changed the very last part of the last chapter, so you will have to read that part to get the very beginning of this chapter. (Sorry)

And I'm really sorry it took so long to update I was restricted from the computer, and then when I could finally get on again, it crashed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter of any of the characters, sadly.

Thanks to my outstanding beta, TheDeepestDepths.

Chapter Four

Letters From No One

Dinner was quiet and tense, yet that was not much different to how their meals usually were with Snape as headmaster. All of the D.A. were trying to eat their dinner quickly so they could get back to the Room of Requirement, but they all had to be extremely careful not to let anyone suspect that they were up to something.

Finally they were all finished and they all made sure to leave the Great Hall in different directions in order to avoid suspicion. Luna and Hannah ended up being the last two to leave so they both grabbed some extra food to bring back to Neville and quickly left to join the others.

Neville was trying to think of some way to get food without going down to the kitchens and risk getting caught when Ginny and Seamus - the first two to leave - came in.

"Hey Neville, the others are on their way," Seamus told him getting comfortable on one of the couches.

"Alright," he said, "So I was thinking that we do around two more chapters, but then you all need to head back to your Common Rooms to do homework and stuff. You don't want to be getting detention with the Carrows in charge."

"That's a good idea," Anthony said as he walked in through the door, "If we end up reading so long that I don't get at least an E in the Potions exam we have tomorrow, I swear I'll not be in a good mood!"

He is such a Ravenclaw nerd! Seamus thought, rolling his eyes. In the corner of his eye he could see Susan - who had walked in with Anthony - nodding her head in agreement, clearly thinking along the same lines as him.

More of the members entered, all getting comfortable on the chairs and couches. Finally Luna and Hannah arrived and gave Neville the food they had taken for him, which he accepted with a grateful smile.

Hannah grabbed the book from Neville, and sat down with it, asking, "Is everybody ready?"

When the all nodded she began with "Letters From No One,"

"I am already confused," Michael wined.

"It's probably his letter from Hogwarts, because this is about our first year," Parvati said reasonably.

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.

Many of the boys started laughing hysterically, the old bat who had made Harry miserable deserved it. The girls just felt pity for the poor woman and glared at the boys furiously.

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.

"How did that happen? Wouldn't they want the smartest to be the leader?" Dennis asked confused.

"I think when Dudley decided he wanted to be the leader, the others agreed because they didn't want to get in his way because he was the biggest and therefore strongest," Neville explained quietly to the younger boy.

The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

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.

"I'll bet Harry was just glad to finally get away from him," Padma sniffed.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"Yes, let's go stuff your head down a toilet," Ginny said angrily.

"Ginny?" Luna said, "You do realize the book won't respond, don't you?"

Ginny just huffed.

"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.

Ginny just blinked and smiled softly.

"Again with the jokes! Where was this Harry when he was here?" Ernie asked.

Susan just gave him a look and said, "He couldn't have been, I don't know, saving the world or anything?" she dead-panned.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs.Figg's.

"At least she wasn't hurt too badly from being knocked down by Dudley," Lavender said, sighing in relief.

Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, 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.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knicker bockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. 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.

"How in the world is that a good idea?" Zacharias asked.

"It's not," Terry replied, shaking his head.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. 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. 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 grey water.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"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."

"And the jokes just keep on getting better," Justin laughed.

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

"Yeah … right," Parvati said slowly, trying to imagine that.

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.

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.

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.

"Is he really going to make Dudley get it?" Anthony asked amazed.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Apparently not," Padma muttered quietly.

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

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 holidaying on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — a letter for Harry.

"It's his Hogwarts letter!" Seamus exclaimed and started to sing "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts" Soon all of Dumbledore's Army had joined in. No matter how annoying the school song used to be, they all missed singing it together.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives — 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

And whoever wrote the letter didn't notice where it said he lived? Hannah thought, aghast.

Little Whinging

Surrey

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.

"Have you ever noticed how weird of a name Hogwarts is?" Colin asked aloud.

All of the purebloods just gave him strange looks and just said, "No, not really."

Colin went pink and mumbled a quick, "Never mind."

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Ernie raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "That was the worst joke I have ever heard in all my life."

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!"

"Shut up!" they all hissed.

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter,

"You know, wouldn't it have been smarter to open it in private?" Dennis asked.

"He probably just wasn't thinking, after all it did say that this was his first," Parvati replied.

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, 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 greyish 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.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness — Vernon!"

"Overreacting much?" Lavender asked, laughing.

Ginny just snorted. As if she isn't overly dramatic.

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.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"Why in the world should he be allowed to read it?" Zacharias asked.

"He's a fat git that sticks his nose into other people's business, he doesn't need another reason," Terry said grumpily.

"I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

Ginny smiled to herself, Three,two,one...

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"I wonder where he got that temper." Luna thought aloud.

"I know! His temper is one of the scariest things I've ever seen!" Seamus exclaimed remembering the beginning of their fifth year when he had been on the receiving end of it many times.

"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. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry,

"As if a scrawny, eleven year old Harry had a chance against that pig," Justin sighed.

his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"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?"

"Watching — spying — might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"Like we would care about you," Neville said.

"But we would care about Harry," Ginny glared.

"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…"

"You don't think that could actually work, do you?" Lavender asked, worried.

"No, they would make sure the famous Harry Potter came to Hogwarts," Anthony said confidently.

"Just make sure he never hears you say that," Neville muttered to him.

"Besides, Dumbledore will realize when they don't respond," Padma assured her.

"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?"

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?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly.

"I have burned it."

"HE BURNED IT?" The whole D.A. screamed, horrified. You couldn't just burn a Hogwarts letter, it was practically a right of passage. Many students frame theirs and keep it forever.

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.

"Oh, of course they had a second bedroom!" Hannah cried hysterically. This was just so unfair! Harry was a really great person and already so many bad things had happened to him, did he really need more trouble from these people as well?

"Why?" said Harry.

"Of course he would be suspicious of that," Neville laughed. Harry never really trusted anyone, bar Ron and Hermione, of course.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

"And now we're back to the normal Dursleys," Colin sighed.

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: 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 neighbour's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favourite program had been cancelled; there was a large bird cage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was upon 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.

"Well now Harry can have something nice that hasn't been contaminated by the Dursleys," Dennis said trying to think of the silver lining in this situation.

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…"

"It seems as though this is the first time Dudley didn't get what he wanted," Justin stated, somewhat bewildered that someone could have been so utterly pampered.

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. 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, made Dudley go and get it.

"Being nice to him? More like trying to make sure he doesn't find another letter and bring it to his room," Ernie snorted.

"That doesn't make much sense, though, Ernie. Dursley knows that Dudley would also want to read it, and he doesn't want that either. Most likely he's freaking out at the thought of wizards watching him and is afraid of what they would do if they saw how Harry was treated," Terry said.

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 thegroundtogettheletterfromhim,whichwasmadedifficultbythefactthatHarryhadgrabbedUncleVernonaroundtheneckfrombehind.Afteraminuteofconfusedfighting,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.

"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.

"Oh no," Neville laughed, "This won't be pretty."

"Not all of Harry's plans are bad." Ginny said trying to defend Harry. Neville only gave her a look and she rolled her eyes petulantly, after all it was Harry's plan to go down into the Chamber of Secrets and rescue her – that ended up as good as anybody could hope.

There paired 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.

"It's not so bad," Michael said wondering what they were so worked up about.

"You watch though," Parvati said, "It's not going to end up well."

He was going to wait for the post man 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 —

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat — something alive!

"Well, we found what went wrong," Terry laughed.

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle'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.

"I want —" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"At least she doesn't think we are completely stupid," Anthony said.

"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.

"This is why fruitcakes are so disgusting," Lavender shuddered.

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.

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.

Ernie and Dennis started to laugh hysterically.

"He's finally cracked!" Ernie exclaimed. Dennis couldn't even speak he was laughing so hard.

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.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

"A lot of people actually," Neville said thinking about himself.

"I know I wrote to him," Hannah laughed. Many other nodded as well, embarrassed by the fact.

"Ginny did," Luna said smiling at her. She went red as the whole D.A. laughed. Ginny had written letters to her hero, who had later become her boyfriend. They were all wondering whether or not Harry had actually received that letter.

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. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one —

"Why didn't he just pick one off the floor?" Zacharias asked.

"He's a seeker, it's in his blood," Colin told him happily.

Padma just rolled her eyes, "Or maybe, they aren't landing on the ground and are just blowing around the room.

Colin pouted, preferring his own answer.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. 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.

Dennis and Ernie started to laugh again.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By night fall 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.

"What a tragedy," Seamus said in a monotone.

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

"You can run, but you can't hide!" Terry laughed evilly.

"Don't do that, it's extremely disturbing," Susan told him.

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.

"She must have realized it was pointless to run," Anthony said.

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.

"Even the pig has realized it!" Padma laughed.

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 snivelled.

"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.

"Hey, that would have been my birthday!" Neville exclaimed happily.

"What? Your birthday's the day before Harry's?" asked Anthony.

Neville just nodded.

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.

"Pathetic," Ginny said angrily.

Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling.

"Creepy…" Parvati muttered.

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 rowing boat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all a board!"

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.

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.

"Nice place," Justin said sarcastically.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas.

"That's not a meal for four people, that's an afternoon snack!" Michael exclaimed.

"I know! As if he needs to be any skinnier," Neville said angrily.

He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

"Oh, he's going to get what's coming for him soon enough," Ginny said muttering under her breath.

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.

"Poor Harry. That must be awful." Padma sighed.

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 mouldy 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.

"These people just keep becoming worse and worse!" Hannah said sadly looking at the book.

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. May be 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?

"Oh no, the place is crumbling beneath them. They're all going to die!" Dennis moaned miserably.

"You know they don't die, Dennis!" Lavender snapped rolling her eyes.

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 …

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" everyone yelled.

BOOM.

Hannah yelled causing everyone to jump a mile out of their seats. No one knew such a small girl could have such a big voice.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

"Well that's an exciting ending," Ernie said cheerfully.

"Here, let me read now," Colin said and Hannah tossed it to him. He opened up where she left off and began to read.

A/N: So thanks again and look forward to someone new coming very soon! So you better tell me if there is anyone else you want before next week!

Again so sorry for the late update!