"The Letters From No One."
Percy read from the book. She was still smiling from my reaction to the war head. It was really sour and had a bitter taste to it at first but now it tastes like any other fruity hard candy. That smile faded as she read the next lines.
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 on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figgs as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.
Harry was glad school was over,
"I always loved when school got out for summer," my wife interrupted herself and she had a dreamy smile on her face. "Well, at least when I started going to summer camp."
"The point of having you read was so you would stop interrupting." I murmured to her.
"You went to a summer camp?" Hermione asked, interested. "Was it fun?"
"Hell yeah," she answered, sitting up straighter with excitement. "We have archery, arts and crafts, canoeing, horseback riding, rock climbing, cabin challenges, races, and every Friday night we played Capture the Flag. It's so much fun."
"Sounds wonderful, Mrs. Potter. But you have a chapter to read." Snape told her condescendingly. I really hate that guy. She grumbled something before reading again. Sirius caught my eye and seemed to be asking me a silent question.
Are you all right?
I gave him a slight nod but I don't think he was convinced. I wasn't either. I hated my life for years and now I have to relive the parts I hated most. Which was almost everything. Not only that, but now everyone gets to see my thoughts and weaknesses.
But there was escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcom, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.
There was an under tone in her voice that I picked up on but I couldn't quite tell what it was. She kept reading so I couldn't comment.
This is 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.
"Smelting is something you do to metal to purify it." She interrupted herself again and several people rolled their eyes.
"Thank you so much for that useful information." Draco said.
"You're welcome." She told him and continued to read.
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.
Percy started laughing at something.
"Harry, that is a great insult." She said when she could manage a breath.
"What insult?" Ron asked confused.
"The one that is coming up briefly, if I'm not mistaken." I answered him.
"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"
"That's horrible." Mrs. Weasley said.
"No,thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick."
She paused so everyone could process it, after a few seconds most everyone creaked up laughing. Severus just sneered.
"Hey," Dudley cried out with indignation, as if he just figured out that was an insult. "That's not nice, Harry."
"You're not nice." Percy told Dudley and he attempted to glare at her but her glare made his falter. I smirked as she continued to read.
Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.
"Good plan, unfortunately that doesn't always work." Percy glared and I couldn't help but notice how hot she looked like that. "If there even is a chance to run."
"Speaking from experience then?" I asked her.
"You have no idea."
One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. 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 knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters.
Most everyone here had on looks of revulsion at the description.
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.
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 though 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 gray 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."
"Love the sarcasm, Harry." Percy told me, smiling.
"Agreed." The twins said together.
"Thanks," I replied with a smile.
"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."
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 bang 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 newspaper.
"Make Harry get it."
"Get the mail, Harry."
"Make Dudley get it."
"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
"Rude." Hermione said and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny agreed.
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 vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and – a letter for Harry.
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,
Percy's voice wavered a bit as she read that part but continued before I could say anything about it. It concerned me slightly but I decided to ask her about it later.
He didn't even 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
Little Whinging
Surrey
"That's creepy how they knew where you slept." Percy said.
"Yeah, that kind of is." I agreed with her.
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, and eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a letter H.
"Your Hogwarts letter!" Hermione exclaimed excitingly.
"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" he chuckled at his own joke.
Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and 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!"
"Miserably little cretin." Draco said quietly. So quietly that I almost thought he didn't say anything at all. I stared at him as Percy kept reading.
Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, 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 grayish 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!"
"Ok, we get it." Ron said. "They don't like Hogwarts. Moving on." I smiled at my best friend.
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.
"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.
"I WANT MY LETTER!"
Anyone sitting next to my wife, that meant me mostly, covered their ears when she yelled that line.
"What was that for?" Percy W. demanded and a few other people were glaring at her too.
"It was in all caps. Everyone knows that when you read something in all caps you have to yell it." my Percy replied as if it were obvious.
"Yeah, let's not yell for all caps anymore." I told her and she pouted. She looked so adorable I added, "At least while inside."
"Ok, I can live with that." Then she suddenly smiled. "You mister," she said as she poked my nose, "have a temper. Don't you?"
"Yes he does," Sirius answered before I could. "He gets it from his mother."
"She was the only one James was afraid to anger." Remus added with a smirk.
"Can we get back to the book?" Snape asked coldly.
"If we must." My wife told him after a few seconds of studying my former professor. "You know most of this looks boring, can I just summarize until I get to something good?" she said as she quickly skimmed the next few pages.
"That would just defeat the point of reading the book." Hermione said to her with a slight smile.
"Darn." I cracked a smile when she said that.
"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.
"OUT!"
Most of us flinched when she yelled, yet again.
"Really?" I glared at her.
"That was a shout so I technically didn't yell."
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 proptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, 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?"
"Paranoid much?" Sirius snorted.
"watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.
"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.
"Not going to work." Remus deadpanned.
"No kidding." I agreed.
If they don't get an answer…
"They'll keep sending letters until they do get an answer." I muttered.
"So I guess that's why the chapter title said 'Letters'." Percy grinned at me.
"And you would be correct with that guess." I smiled back at her. "Now keep reading."
Yes, that's best…we won't do anything…"
"But –"
"I'm not having one in the house Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd…"
Percy paused in her reading and she looked like she was going to murder someone.
"Percy, what is it?" Hermione asked. With a shake of her head Percy finished the sentence.
We'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"
It was silent for a minute and I could feel the anger rolling off of everyone.
"Percy," Sirius said, well more like growled. "Keep reading before I kill the muggles." She nodded mutely, glaring at the Dursleys.
That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vermin
"Vermin!?" my uncle shouted but he was ignored because the rest of us were too busy laughing at the name and the color of purple he was turning.
"Does it actually say Vermin in the book?" Fred asked her.
"Nope." She smiled. "I just felt like saying Vermin."
"I agree. Vermin is a much more suitable name." George said seriously, sending everyone into another round of laughter.
"You should keep using it." Fred added.
Did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
"Where's my letter" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vermin had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"
"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vermin shortly. "I have burned it."
Most of the room's occupants looked outraged.
"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."
People sent me some pitying looks but I ignored them. Thankfully Percy kept on reading rather than giving me a look of pity as well.
"Silence!" yelled Uncle Vermin, 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."
Several people looked like them wanted to say something but Percy kept reading.
"Why?" said Harry.
"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff up stairs, now."
The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vermin and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vermin'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 up the stairs 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 neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on 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.
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…"
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.
"That's a bit depressing." My wife muttered.
"That about sums it up." I told her. Then I noticed that her knuckles were white from how hard she'd been griping the book, there might even be indentions in the cover.
"Is that the end of the chapter?" Ron asked.
"Unfortunately no." she said and started reading again.
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 Vermin and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vermin, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. 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 Vermin leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vermin had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind.
There were a few snickers around the room.
"So that's where you got that idea." Ron said to me.
"What idea?" Sirius asked worried.
"You'll see." I told him.
After a minute of confused fighting in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vermin 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.
"It's not going to work." My Percy deadpanned.
"Why do you say that?" I asked her slightly offended.
"One: you're ten; two: what you're thinking of doing is rather predictable; and three: judging from this Arg in all caps a bit farther down the page you were either caught or someone was there first."
"Ok, what was I thinking of doing?"
"That you'd go and wait for the mailman before anyone else was up so you can get your letter first."
"Did you read ahead?"
"No. It's just what I would have done. I'm guessing that you were thinking off using the front door when you should have snuck out a bit earlier and gone out the window instead to wait on the street." I blinked at her.
"My room was on the second floor."
"So you just drop from the sill and don't try to land on your feet or head or try to break your fall. Or you could have rigged up some type of latter."
"You have an answer for everything don't you?"
"Yup. Whether or not it's a correct answer…well you get the point."
"Can we carry on with the story?" Snape glared at the two of us.
"Sure thing Sev." And she continued reading before he could tell her not to call him that.
The repaired alarm clock rand at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently.
My wife face palmed. "You don't set an alarm and then proceed to do something silently. If you're going to be stealthy you have to do all without noise."
"I'm sorry but I didn't have Fred and George's Handbook to Being Sneaky. Or even the Marauder's Guide to Not Getting Caught."
"We'll get you them, Harry." Fred and George said together.
"Better late than never. Ay Moony?" Sirius said elbowing Remus who just shook his head at their antics. He was smiling though.
"Maybe I should also get you Cabin Eleven's Rules to All Trouble Making." Percy said and everyone looked at her.
"All trouble making? As in pranking and jokes or …" Remus started.
"Pranking, practical jokes, stealing, eavesdropping/spying, the works. It covers everything really." she replied. "They also have a Pranking for Dummies book too."
"Yup, it's official. James would have loved you." Sirius told her. "Your kids had better carry on the Marauder's legacy." I chocked on air and Percy stared at him with a blank look and a blush colored her cheeks. He grinned at the both of us. The others all started laughing at us. As soon as it quieted down Molly turned to my wife.
"Continue reading dearie." She told her but Percy didn't show any sigh of having heard. She was still looking at Sirius with the same blank expression. I waved my hand in front of her face but she didn't acknowledge me.
"Great, Sirius. Now you broke her." I glared at him. Hermione sighed and got up from her spot and stood in front of Percy.
"Percy?" she asked shaking her but when she got no response she sighed again and took the book and returned to her spot next to Ron and continued reading.
He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.
He was going to wait for the postman 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!"
Everyone jumped as Ron screamed that part. Most everyone started laughing as Hermione hit him with the book. Then she continued reading.
Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something alive!
"Ten galleons says it's the uncle!" the twins shouted and I couldn't help but laugh.
"I wouldn't bet against that." Sirius said grinning as well.
"I'll take that bet." Draco said and he shook hands with the twins to seal the deal.
Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face.
The twins cheered and Draco grumbled as he handed over the money.
Uncle Vernon had been lying at in 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 though a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."
"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."
"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.
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 creaks 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.
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.
"Only everyone in the wizarding world." Ron said and I smiled a bit but most of my attention was on my wife who still sat frozen in shock or something.
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 –
"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 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.
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.
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 sheet. 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
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. 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. 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 sniveled.
"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 of the week, because of television – then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. 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. Still, you weren't eleven every day.
The atmosphere in the room wasn't as warm as it had been. Partly because of what had just been read and partly because a majority of us were getting increasingly worried for my wife who still hadn't moved. I could tell the others were worried from the glances they kept throwing at her periodically. Nobody has spoken in a while too.
Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. 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 rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.
"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"
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,
Suddenly giggles swept through the room. We all turned to look at Percy, who finally came back to reality, as she tried to hold back her laughter.
"Is Sean Connery there as well?" she asked. I was so relieved that she was moving and talking again that I kissed her. She stiffened and I drew back. She looked a bit shocked but luckily she didn't freeze up again. "Um, what was that for?"
"You kind of zoned out on us for like half of the chapter. I was worried." I told her.
"Sorry about that. The 'kids' comment kind of caught me off guard." She said looking at the ground. I could tell she didn't want to talk about at that time so I decide to add it to the list of things to ask her later.
"Who's Sean Connery and why would he be there?" Bill asked. He as well as many others looked confused.
"Only the very best James Bond!" she cried in answer. "British spy. Largest movie series in America. The role has been played by multiple actors but Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan are by far my favorites. But Sean Connery also played in a movie called The Rock. It's about this group of… terrorist, I guess you could say, that threaten to launch missiles loaded with a type of chemical that kills people in massive amounts unless their demands are met. They set up their base on Alcatraz, which is an old prison on a rock in the middle of San Frisco bay, at least I think its Alcatraz. It's been a while since I've watch the movie. So the good guys, including Sean, have to sneak into the prison to disable the missiles before any of them are launched. Blah, blah, blah. We can watch it later. But the line 'they reached the rock' just made me think of that movie."
"Percy Potter, you're … interesting." Charlie said finally after a few minutes of silence after her little rant.
"Thank you."
"You're Welcome."
"Can we get back to the story now?" Ginny demanded.
"Sure."
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.
Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.
"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.
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.
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 moldy 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.
"Why did you even stay with them if they always treated you this badly?" My wife asked me softly.
"I was barely even eleven, where would I go? I would have had no way to take care of myself." I told her.
"Where there's a will there's a way. The streets probably would have been better anyway. You learn more, so long as you're not dumb. Besides, someone might have taken you in. oh, and don't tell me about you being too young to run away at eleven because several of my friends ran away from their homes and families at younger ages than that."
"Why would they do that?" Mrs Weasley asked.
"Not everyone's home life is perfect." Was her only reply. Hermione decided to continue reading.
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. Maybe 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?
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…
BOOM.
The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.
Hermione stopped reading.
"That's the end of the chapter." She announced.
"But who was knocking?" the other Percy asked no one in particular.
"I think we find out in the next chapter." Ginny told him.
"Knock, knock." My Percy said and I turned to look at her and she had a straight face.
"What?" I asked. Others looked confused as well.
"Knock, knock." She repeated and I realized what she was doing.
"Who's there?" I sighed.
"You know."
"You know wh– " then I paused and glared at her, as did any others that also figured out the not-so-joke joke. "Really?"
"Too inappropriate?"
"Very." All the magical people told her.
"Well I'm glad you didn't finish the line because I don't have a punch line." I sighed and shook my head at her.
"So who wants to read next?" I asked the others.
"I will," George voleteered. Hermione handed him the book and he began to read. "The Keeper of the Keys."