Chapter 3 – Pranks and Letters
It was 2:57 on the last day of school. Unlike most people, Harry and Laura didn't enjoy the holidays. During the summer, there was no escaping the Dursley's, or Dudley's gang, who visited the house every day.
2:58.
Still, the holidays weren't too long, and next year, the twins were going to a different school than Dudley. Maybe Harry would then be able to make some friends.
2:59.
Laura's hand itched toward the clear piece of wire attached to the tile above the teacher, Mrs. William's, head. She had always been a practical joker, but she was careful, and she hadn't been found out yet. If she had…
3:00.
Just as the bell rang, Laura pulled on the wire. The tile swung open… followed by about fifty water-balloons. Laura laughed with the rest of the students at her shocked expression, and moved quickly out of the room.
She met up with her only friend, Jade, outside the door. Laura was lucky; Harry didn't have any friends.
The pair had just gotten out of the school gates when Jade pulled her behind a couple of bushes.
"Laura," Jade said. "Today is possibly the last time I'll ever see you, with you leaving to go to Stonewall…" She hesitated. "I know I've asked before, and you said no, but can you please tell me? I mean I understand if you don't, but-"
"Spit it out, Jade."
"Sorry, but… why do you always wear a wig?"
Laura waited a minute before replying. She chose her words carefully. "You won't believe me."
"Why not?" Jade asked.
"Because… Oh, it's so hard to explain…"
"Then show me?"
"Oh, why not!" Laura relented, ripping the wig from her head.
"It makes even less sense now," Jane snorted. "Why do you wear a black wig if you have black hair?"
"Because, well…" Laura said. "Oh this sounds so stupid… My hair kind of… changes colors." Laura's face flushed, and her hair faded into a red-ish pink. "I can't control it though… hence the wig."
"That'd be hilarious!" Jade laughed. "We'd be sitting in the middle of class, and your hair would suddenly turn blue!" She stopped laughing. "Do you know why though?"
"It tends to correspond with my emotions, but no, I've got no idea where it came from."
The two walked towards Number 4, Privet Drive. When they reached Laura's street, the two hugged.
I'll try to write you, but…" Laura said.
"I know. Good luck!"
The next day, Harry was finally allowed out of his cupboard. They were all sitting at the table, eating breakfast when they heard the mail flap open.
"Get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said.
"Make Harry get it." Dudley whined.
"Get the mail, Harry."
"Make Dudley get it." Harry retorted.
"Hit him with your new Smelting Stick, Dudley."
"I'll get it!" Laura called. She walked over to the front door and looked at the envelopes. There was a bill, a postcard, and a letter for Harry and Laura! Hers was addressed:
Ms. L. Potter
The Cupboard Under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Laura walked back to the table, giving the bill and postcard to Uncle Vernon, and was about to open her letter when it and Harry's letter were jerked out of her hands.
"Give them back!" Laura shouted at Uncle Vernon. "They're ours!"
"Who'd be writing to you?" he sneered, opening up the letter.
As he read it, his face went from red to green to white.
"P-P-Petunia!" Aunt Petunia took the letter and looked at it curiously, as Uncle Vernon grabbed the three children and moved them into the next room. They only had enough time to see Aunt Petunia's face turn ashen white before the door was slammed in their face.
Laura and Harry pressed their ears against the bottom of the doorway as Dudley listened at the keyhole.
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice. "Look at the address! How do they know where they sleep? Do you think they're watching the house? What do we do?"
"We'll ignore it. That's right, if they don't get an answer…"
"But…"
"We swore when we took them in that we'd stomp out this dangerous nonsense!"
That evening, Uncle Vernon visited Harry and Laura in their cupboard.
"Where are our letters?" the twins asked at the same time. "Who was writing to us?"
"No one. They were addressed to you by mistake. Now," Uncle Vernon said, changing the subject. "About this cupboard, your aunt and I have been thinking, your aunt and I have been thinking, you are getting a bit big for it… we thought it would be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."
"Why?" they asked.
"Don't ask questions," he snapped. "Now move this stuff upstairs, now."
Sitting in their new room, they looked at each other. They would both rather be downstairs with the letters than up here without them.
The next morning, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry and Laura, made Dudley go get the mail.
"Dad, here's two more of the letters!" Dudley shouted from the front door.
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt up and ran to the front door, closely followed by Harry and Laura.
After a moment of confused fighting for the letters, in which everyone got hit a lot by Dudley's Smelting Stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up with the letters clutched in his hand.
"You three," he wheezed. "Go. Just go."
The next morning, Harry snuck out of their room to see if he could get the letters before Uncle Dursley.
Obviously his plan didn't work, because when Laura came down an hour later, Uncle Vernon was tearing up the six letters that had come that morning. He didn't go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the mail slot.
"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them, then they'll just give up."
"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."
"These people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia. They're not like you or me," he said, trying to knock in a nail with a piece of the fruitcake Aunt Petunia had brought him.
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for them. They had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few came through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.
Uncle Vernon stayed home again that day. After burning the letters, he boarded up all the small cracks around the house. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises, which Laura took the liberty of making as many as she possibly could.
On Saturday, twenty-four letters came rolled up inside each of the eggs their very confused milkman handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.
"Who on earth wants to talk to you two this badly?" asked an amazed Dudley.
On Sunday, Uncle Vernon sat down at the 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-"
Just as he finished, fifty or so letters came flying out of the fireplace.
"That's it!" Uncle Vernon screamed, while tearing out big chunks of his mustache. "We're leaving! Be here in five minutes."
Harry and Laura gave each other a look.
Monday night, the five of them were in a small shack on a rock in the ocean. Harry and Laura were curled up on the floor under a ragged blanket. Laura looked at Dudley's watch. 11:59. She and Harry would be eleven in a minute's time.
Thirty seconds.
Laura wondered whether or not the Dursleys would remember. Probably not.
Ten seconds.
It's not like they had ever cared about her or her twin.
They counted out the last few seconds together."Three… two… one…"
12:00.
"Happy Birthday," the twins said to each other.
BOOM!
Harry and Laura looked up at the door, and then at each other, startled. Someone had managed to cross the ocean in the middle of the storm, and was knocking on the door.