Harry awaited the 24th of July – the day on which he'd gotten his first Hogwarts letter – with anticipation. He stopped himself from camping out in front of the mailbox, as this was sure to earn him a kick and some very suspicious questions from the Dursleys. He sat in the kitchen, watching Aunt Petunia dye his new uniform, which he thankfully would never have to wear, and waited for the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. He'd debated with himself whether he would try to get the letter before the Dursleys noticed it, or have the satisfaction of leaving them stranded on a rock out in the sea one more time, but decided that he'd rather not invoke their ire like he had last time. Better to present them with the fact that he'd be going to Hogwarts as a done deal, than giving them the idea that they could still do something to prevent it.

Harry got up without a word of protest when Uncle Vernon told him to go and get the mail. As soon as he spotted the familiar envelope with his name and address written on it in emerald-green ink, he let out a breath he hadn't been conscious he was holding. He was accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Again.
Being careful to safely tuck away the letter in his cupboard first, Harry brought the rest of the mail into the kitchen and handed it to Uncle Vernon. It took him a few moments to notice that Aunt Petunia was eyeing him suspiciously.

"…What?" said Harry, giving her a bemused look.

"Was that all the mail?" Aunt Petunia snapped. Uncle Vernon and Dudley looked up at them, Aunt Marge's postcard suddenly forgotten.

"Err, yes," Harry lied, wondering why on earth she'd ask such a thing. He tried to keep his face neutral while Aunt Petunia studied it, but obviously failed, as she walked over to him and started patting him down.

"What are you doing?" said Harry, wincing as Aunt Petunia's bony fingers jabbed him harder than strictly necessary. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were staring at her as if she'd gone mental, but she ignored them.

"There is no way you wouldn't – not with Lily…" Aunt Petunia muttered as she searched him. When Harry failed to have anything hidden on his person, she marched out of the kitchen into the hallway, gnashing her teeth. Harry followed her, anxiety gripping his insides. She'd been there when his mother got accepted into Hogwarts, she must remember about the Hogwarts letter arriving a week before a student's birthday, and didn't believe Harry had not received his. Why else would she expect him to be hiding something?
Aunt Petunia was methodically searching through the hallway, lifting up the doormat to peer underneath it, looking behind curtains and under the hallway table, becoming increasingly more agitated. Harry stood in the doorway, trying very hard not to look at his cupboard and hoping that she wouldn't think of looking inside it.
He gave a gasp as Dudley whacked the small of his back with his Smeltings stick, and moved aside to let his cousin and uncle gape at Aunt Petunia's search mission.

"Petunia, dear… what are you doing?" said Uncle Vernon, frowning.

"Take Dudley into the living room Vernon, would you?" Aunt Petunia replied, rolling up the hallway carpet and patting the floor underneath it, as if she expected something invisible to be there. When this unlikely hiding place failed to contain anything at all as well, she turned on Harry, who still stood a few steps away from the hallway. Uncle Vernon and Dudley hadn't moved either, the former slowly turning an alarming shade of puce, the latter looking from Harry to his mother and back curiously.

"Where is it?" Aunt Petunia snapped. "And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

Harry didn't know whether it would be worse to keep up the charade until Aunt Petunia thought of searching his cupboard, or to just come out and tell her. He was tempted to keep acting like he had no idea what she was on about just to see her become more and more frantic, but reminded himself that for the moment his aunt and uncle were still his legal guardians, and he depended on them for things like food and shelter.
Resigned, he slouched over to his cupboard, opened the door and pulled the letter from its hiding place. He reluctantly gave it to Aunt Petunia, who snatched it out of his hands and turned it over, examining the seal on the back.

"You haven't opened it?"

"I was going to read it later. It is myletter, you know. Addressed to me and everything. It's even got my cupboard on it," said Harry, pointing.

Aunt Petunia had moved over to where Uncle Vernon and Dudley were standing. Uncle Vernon looked like he'd seen a ghost, just like last time, and Dudley was jumping up and down, trying to read what was on the envelope still clutched in his mother's hand.

"What is it mum? Who would be writing Harry? Can I read it? I want to read it!"

"Stay here," croaked Uncle Vernon, pushing his wife back inside the kitchen and closing the door behind them.

Harry and Dudley looked at eachother, then at the door. Dudley made a beeline for the keyhole, and Harry, resigned that he wouldn't be able to win from his much larger cousin this time either, lowered himself on his stomach and listened through 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.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we won't allow him to –"

"No," grunted Uncle Vernon. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... 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 stamp out that dangerous nonsense? And how did you know the boy got the letter anyway?"

The rest of the week leading up to Harry's birthday went more or less the same as it had the previous time. The Dursleys moved him to Dudley's second bedroom, Dudley went back and forth between wailing about needing his room and wanting to read Harry's letter, and more and more letters tried to find their way to him, culminating in a barrage of letters pouring through the kitchen chimney. Harry made a couple of attempts to try and read the letters for the look of it, and tried to hide his amusement at Uncle Vernon's distress.

They ended up in the same hotel in Cokeworth, which they fled when the letters found them again, and on Monday Harry found himself freezing in the little boat Uncle Vernon had hired, on their way to the shack on the rock where Harry had first met Hagrid. He was looking forward to that at least, if not to the horrible storm that had raged around the hut last time.

Harry was trying to wrap himself in the thinnest blanket as tightly as he could when he noticed Dudley staring at him from on the moth-eaten sofa that would be his bed for the night.

"What?" he said, not entirely unkindly. He knew the flight from Privet Drive must have been hard on his cousin, who had never experienced an abnormal day in his entire life. He also hadn't forgotten Dudley asking his parents why Harry wasn't coming with them, the last time he'd seen him back in the future, and expressing concern about where he was going to go on his own. Not to mention shaking his hand and telling him he didn't consider him to be a total waste of space.

"What's going on?" said Dudley, pulling the covers tighter over his shoulders. He seemed to be shivering. Harry guessed that even Dudley's layers of lard weren't enough to shield him from the biting cold in the hut.

"I don't really know", lied Harry. "Apparently your parents just really don't want me to read my mail."

"I want to go home," said Dudley rather abruptly. Harry stared at him. The larger boy looked like he was about to burst into tears, but furiously trying to hide it. "I wish that dad would just let you read your stupid letter and everything went back to normal."

"I'm sorry, Dudley," said Harry, and to his surprise found he meant it. "I wish you could go home too. This place sucks."

"It does," said Dudley from underneath his pile of blankets.

"Try to get some sleep, maybe Uncle Vernon will realise this isn't a good place to stay in the morning, and he'll take you back home," said Harry, shivering and contemplating that this was the longest civil conversation he'd had with his cousin in, well, ever.

There were a few long moments of silence in the hut. Then –

"There's space for you on the sofa, if you want," came Dudley's voice from underneath his blankets. Harry stared at him, and Dudley shifted uncomfortably. "It's really cold – the blankets are large enough for both of us."

"I – I don't know what to say, Dudley," said Harry, shocked.

"Well make up your mind before I change mine," grunted Dudley, and Harry hurriedly got up, took off his shoes and clambered on the sofa, slipping under the pile of blankets with his head next to Dudley's feet. Dudley was right, there was just enough space on the sofa for both of them like this, and even if it wasn't very comfortable it was undeniably a lot warmer than the floor. Harry spread his thin blanket and added it to the pile, while Dudley grumbled about his cold feet and kicked him in the side, but not very hard.

"Thanks Dudley," said Harry sincerely once he'd settled down.

" 'nt mention it," mumbled Dudley, and Harry wondered what he'd done differently this time to make his cousin give a damn about his comfort. He'd helped him with his homework, true, but that had only been in return for telling his friends to leave off Harry. Was it because of their conversation, and Harry telling Dudley he was sorry and that he hoped he could go home soon?

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on, and Harry was very grateful for the extra blankets and Dudley's added warmth, even if the other boy's snores were almost as loud as the low rolls of thunder outside, and he occasionally kicked Harry in his sleep. Harry craned his head to the side to look at the lighted dial of Dudley's watch, counting down the minutes to his birthday and Hagrid's entrance. At least he hoped Hagrid would come to get him from this forsaken rock like he had last time.

One minute to go and he'd find out. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine – maybe he'd wake Dudley up so his cousin wouldn't kick him when he jerked awake - three... two...one...

There was a polite knock on the door of the shack, and Harry sat bolt upright, realising that if Hagrid was outside, he'd never be this delicate.