Chapter Three: An Abundance of Letters

The snake incident earned the twins their longest punishment ever. By the time they were allowed out, school was out for the summer and Dudley had broken half of his birthday presents, not to mention knocked over an elderly woman with his racing bike as she crossed the street.

Aunt Petunia glared at them as usual when they entered the kitchen to a horrible smell wafting from the sink. The twins glanced inside and raised their eyebrows. It looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What's this?" Alice asked Aunt Petunia. The woman's lips tightened as they always did when one of them dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniforms," She said shortly.

"Oh," Harry said, his voice heavy with false innocence. "I didn't realize they had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia while Alice covered a giggle with a feeble cough. "I'm dying some of mine and Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

The twins thought this was unlikely, but they cooked the breakfast and tried not to think about how much they would be teased at Stonewall High. At least one good thing would come of going to this new school – the Potters would be away from Dudley for the first time in their lives. Perhaps they'd even make friends...

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in at around eight, and made faces at the smell from the twins' uniforms. When Aunt Petunia had her back turned to kiss Uncle Vernon on the cheek, Dudley kicked at Harry's legs while aiming a swat at Alice's head. It was his usual good–morning to the twins, impossible to dodge because although Dudley was large and dim–witted, he rarely missed.

Harry and Alice glared at Dudley as they set the plates on the portion of the table that wasn't covered by presents, but he simply smirked back. A few moments later, they all heard the click of the mail slot and letters flopping onto the mat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his newspaper.

"Make Alice get it."

"Get the mail, Alice."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke 'er with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Alice deftly dodged the stick and went to get the mail. Smeltings was Uncle Vernon's Alma Mater, and where Dudley would begin high school in a few months. One of the things required of the boys attending there was a stick like a walking cane, which was used to hit other children when the teacher wasn't looking.

Five things lay on the mat; a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, who was on vacation, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, a letter to Dudley from a friend, and…wait – were those... letters for Harry and Alice?

Alice picked them up and stared at them, her heart beating fast. No one had ever written to either of them before. Who would write to them anyway? They had no friends, no other relatives…they didn't even belong to the library, and so never go so much as a missive complaining about overdo books. Yet here it was, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake, even if Alice had the brain power of Dudley's friend Malcolm:

Mr. H. Potter

The cupboard under the stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Miss A. Potter

The cupboard under the stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelopes were thick and heavy, made of yellow parchment. The addresses were written in shinning emerald ink, and there was no stamp. Turning an envelope over, Alice noticed a red wax seal with a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake, all around a letter H.

"Hurry up, girl!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" he chuckled as if people's mail exploding was humorous to him.

Alice hurried into the kitchen, handing Uncle Vernon the bill, postcard, and Dudley's letter, as Dudley had problems reading, bless him. Last Alice handed her brother his letter, giving him an I know, it's weird isn't it? look. Harry stared at her incredulously, and then started to open it.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, tossed it aside and turned over the postcard.

"Marge is ill," He told Aunt Petunia sadly, "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" Dudley said suddenly, "Dad, they've got something!"

Harry and Alice were just about to unfold their letters when they were snatched roughly from their hands.

"Hey!" cried Alice, reaching for hers.

"Those are ours!" echoed Harry with a glare.

"Ha! Who'd be writing to you?" Sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking a letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from its normal ruddy red to green faster than the twins had ever seen it before.

"P-p-p-Petunia!" He gasped, looking at her with wide eyes.

Dudley tried to grab the letters, but Uncle Vernon held them both out of his chubby son's reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and scanned it. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Alice and Dudley were still in the room. The twins couldn't imagine what could possibly worry their aunt and uncle so much, and weren't sure if they should be afraid of what could be in there, or excited.

Dudley wasn't used to being ignored like his cousins, and gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read those letters," He said loudly.

"We want to read them," Alice said loudly. "As they're ours."

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

The twins didn't move, and neither did Dudley.

"Give us our letters!" cried Harry.

"Let me see it!" Dudley demanded.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he grabbed the children and threw them out into the hall, slamming the door after them. Dudley and the Potters immediately scrambled to see who would listen at the door. By brute force, Dudley ended up at the key hole. Alice and Harry were forced to press their ears to the cracks between the door and the wall.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "Look at the addresses – how could they possibly know where they sleep? Goodness, y–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? Perhaps we write back? Tell them we don't want–"

"No," said Uncle Vernon after a minute. "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 that in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took the brats in we'd stamp out all that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before: he visited the twins in their cupboard.

"Where're our letters?" demanded Harry the moment he had squeezed through the door.

"Who's writing to us?" Alice said quickly. The twins had never wanted something so bad in their lives as to know what was in those letters.

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I've burned them."

"It was not a mistake," Harry said angrily. The twins hated being treated like they were stupid.

"It had our cupboard on it!" Alice cried, tears in her eyes. Though Alice was a tough girl, she got frustrated easily and hated injustice. The Dursleys never did anything remotely kind for them – was it so much to just ask for the mail that was addressed to them?

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon. The twins winced slightly, while a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked rather painful.

"Er – yes, Harry, Alice – 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 two just moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously. The twins started to feel a bit excited at the idea, but it wasn't like the Dursleys to be nice.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped their uncle, ruining that illusion. "Just take all this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursley house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Vernon's sister, Marge, who was horrible and hated the twins almost more than the Dursleys themselves), 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 the Potters one trip upstairs to move everything they owned from the cupboard.

Aunt Petunia went to the store and came back with several large plastic boxes, which she stuffed all of Dudley's things into that were in the second room – most of it was broken, but luckily she ignored the bookshelf, which had never been touched and held some items of interest to the twins, especially Alice. She also bought some pillows and blankets for the three children – albeit from a second-hand store, but at least they were clean – and Uncle Vernon, cursing and sweating, assembled an extra bed he had bought from a neighbour.

When they were done, they room actually looked fit for a pair of ten year olds to inhabit: one bed was against the wall by the window, the other bed that had already been in the room was pushed to the wall where the desk was, with the desk and bookshelf one either side. There was only one closet in the room, but of course Harry and Alice didn't have many clothes as it was.

"Yesterday, I would have given two day's food to be up here." Alice said glumly, laying on her bed once everything was in place.

"Me too." Harry agreed, sitting on the floor and un–tying and re–tying his shoes. "Now I just wish we had the letters."

Alice nodded her agreement. The twins felt rather selfish for wanting two simple letters when they had a real bedroom for the first time in their lives, but they couldn't help but be curious. "You never know," Alice loved to say. She said it every birthday ("You never know – they might give us something nice this year!"), at the start of every school year ("You never know – maybe we'll make some friends!"), and now she could only think of one thing to say:

"You never know – what's in those letters could change our lives."

But they highly doubted that, even more so than getting a nice present. After all, they were just pieces of paper.

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The next morning at breakfast, Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, been sick on purpose, whacked his father with the Smelting's stick, thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and kicked his mother, but he still didn't have his second bedroom back. Alice was thinking about this time yesterday and wishing she had opened the letters in the hall, or just stuffed them in their cupboard. Harry was pushing his eggs around, not feeling hungry but trying to make himself eat – the twins couldn't really rely on meals at Privet Drive. 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 the twins for some reason, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting's stick all the way down the hall. After a moment he shouted, "There're more! Mr. H. Potter the window–side bed, the smallest bedroom, Miss A. Potter, the –"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt up from his seat and ran down the hall with the twins right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letters from him, which was made more difficult by the fact the Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon from behind around the neck and Alice had his feet. After a minute of confused fighting in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting's stick and bitten frequently by Alice, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, both letters clutched in his meaty hand.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your – your bedroom," he wheezed to the twins. "Dudley – go – j–just go."

"They know we've moved from the cupboard," Alice said.

"And they know we didn't get the first letter," added harry. "So that means they'll try again, right?"

"They have to," agreed Alice quickly, hope in her voice. "They won't give up easily, I bet, whoever they are."

"We have to help them this time," said Harry, biting his lip. "But what could we do?"

They both thought for a moment. Alice was hanging off her bed and Harry was pacing the room. This was one of the many advantages to finally having a room; in their cupboard, they could barely sit up straight, much less move around.

"I've got it!" Harry suddenly exclaimed with a grin.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and they got dressed silently. They mustn't wake the Dursleys – that was the most important part of the plan. They quickly stole downstairs without turning on any lights, both skilfully avoiding the creaky step.

Harry and Alice were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for Number Four first. Both of their hearts hammered as they crept across the dark hall toward the front door –

"AAAAARRRRRGGHHH!"

Alice leapt into the air; she'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs, and to the twin's horror, they realized that Alice had stepped on Uncle Vernon. The man had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly trying to make sure they wouldn't do exactly what they'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry and Alice for half an hour, then told them to go make some tea. They shuffled miserably off to the kitchen and by the time they got back, the mail had been delivered right into Uncle Vernon's lap. They could see at least a dozen letters addressed in green ink.

Before they could say a word, Uncle Vernon began tearing the letters into pieces.

Uncle Vernon stayed home from work that day and nailed up the mail slot.

"He's finally lost it." Alice said blandly as she, Harry, and Dudley watched the man trying to nail in a nail with a slice of fruitcake.

On Friday, no less than thirty letters arrived for the twins. As they couldn't go through the mail slot, they had been pushed under the door, through the sides, and some were 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 get out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Forty eight letters to Alice and Harry had found their way into the house by way of the two dozen eggs that a very confused milkman had passed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor while Uncle Vernon made furious calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked the Potters in amazement. Neither had an answer.

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, no sir, not a single–"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply in the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Alice and Harry, after a confused moment, leapt to their feet, trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon shouted, seizing Harry around the waist and throwing him into the hall, followed by Alice. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley ran 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 and pulling chunks out of his moustache 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 moustache missing that no one dared argue. Harry and Alice raced up to their room to pack, and as Harry turned to his sister glumly, he saw that Alice was grinning.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked suspiciously.

Alice didn't answer, but reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a letter.

"You got one!" Harry gaped. "How?!"

"Never mind that," Alice said, going to sit on Harry's bed. "Let's read it while we have time!"

She offered the letter to Harry, and slowly he slid open the envelope and pulled out the thick paper. The letter was written in emerald in, just like the front. Harry read it aloud, his voice stumbling with shock every few words:

"Hogwarts school of – of Witchcraft and Wiz-Wizardry. Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore – Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand S-Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,

Supreme M-Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards." he and Alice stared at each other for nearly a minute, open-mouthed. A school of witchcraft and wizardry? This had to be fake.

But they were still going to finish it.

"Dear Miss Potter," Harry continued quickly. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

It was silent in the bedroom for nearly two minutes. Both of the children were thinking the same thing – this couldn't be real.

But though the Dursleys enjoyed it when the twins were disappointed, they weren't the kind to play jokes, especially when they involved something fantastical like magic.

"Okay, this is mad." Alice said finally. "If we got letters from – from a wizard school, then that must mean..."

"GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW YOU BRATS!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and Harry and Alice jumped. They had almost forgotten that they were supposed to be packing.

The twins looked at each other, not sure what to do. Their desire to finish the letter was almost overshadowed by their fear that Uncle Vernon would burst in and see it.

"I know!" Harry declared. "We'll pack in it our bag, and read it the first chance we get."

Alice nodded her agreement, and they both quickly stuffed all of their belongings into an old duffle bag. Besides about six outfits and two pairs of shoes each, the twins had a pillow and blanket each, an old flashlight, Harry's half-melted army men, and Alice's sock doll she had made herself. They packed the letters in the bottom, put everything else on top (who knew when they'd be coming back anyway), and ran downstairs.

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 front seat; his father had hit him round the head (much to the twins' delight) 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….gotta shake 'em off…" He would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day, which didn't particularly bother Harry and Alice, but by nightfall, 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 aliens on his computer. Comparatively, this was a rather good day for Harry and Alice. No chores, no being screamed at, seeing parts of the country they never had before…they couldn't really complain.

Uncle Vernon finally stopped at a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley, Harry, and Alice were given a room with two full beds and damp sheets.

As soon as Dudley's snoring could be heard, Harry and Alice sat up in their bed, pulled the sheets over their head, and pulled out their flashlight and letter.

"You read the second page." Harry suggested, handing it to Alice. It seemed to be some sort of supply list.

"Okay," she agreed. "Ahem – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Uniform: First-Year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black), at least three plain white collared shirts (short or long sleeved), at least two pairs of black, dark grey, or navy trousers for wizards, the same colours in skirts for witches, socks (of any length) in white, black, dark grey, and/or navy, at least three sweaters (no–sleeved or long–sleeved) in black or grey, black shoes of any style, winter accessories such as hats, scarves, and gloves in black or grey, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar), and one winter cloak (black, silver fastenings). Course books: All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Books of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble. Other equipment – 1 W-wand, 1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2), 1 set glass or crystal phials, 1 telescope, 1 set brass scales. Students may also bring an owl or a cat or a toad. Parents are reminded that first year students are not allowed their own broomsticks."

Yet again, the Potter twins simply stared at one another. It was one think to make a faux exception letter to a wizard school, but to go to the trouble of making a supply list complete with uniforms and books…

Harry and Alice didn't talk for the rest of the night, but they sat up together, leaning against the headboard, wondering…

Everyone ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next morning. Harry and Alice didn't speak, not even to each other. All they could think about were their letters. Everyone had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is any of yous Mr. H. Potter or Miss A. Potter? Only I got abou' a 'undred of these at the fron' desk."

She held up two letters.

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Miss A. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Harry and Alice (even though they already knew what was in them) and Dudley all made a grab for the letters, but Uncle Vernon knocked their hands away with a sharp glare.

"I'll take them," he said while the woman watched with an eyebrow raised, and followed her out of the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better to just 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 at the top of a multilevel parking garage, halfway across a suspension bridge, and in the middle of a ploughed field.

"Dad'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. The Potters scooted closer together. Dudley shivered.

"It's Monday," He told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday. This reminded the twins 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 their eleventh birthday. Of course, their birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursleys had given Alice a broken pencil and Harry a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, and they hadn't even had a chance to get each other anything this year. Still, you weren't eleven every day….

Soon Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He carried a long, thin package, and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked him what he'd brought.

"Found the perfect place!" He said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was freezing outside. Alice's long hair whipped in the wind, hitting Harry and Dudley in the face. Uncle Vernon pointed out at a miserable shack on a rock out in the sea. It was even colder in the boat; icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks. Halfway cross, they were soaking wet. The sea water burned their eyes, and the twins curled up together, trying to keep warm. It seemed like hours until they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was almost as horrible as being outside in the cold; 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: a living room, containing the empty fireplace, a sofa, and a battered wooden table, and bedroom with a single bed and two worn side tables.

Something about being here was familiar to the twins, but they couldn't quite place it.

The only food Uncle Vernon had brought turned out to be a bag of chips and a banana each. He tried to start a fire afterwards, but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" He said cheerfully, his right eye twitching a bit.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. The Potters privately agreed, but of course it didn't cheer them up at all. They had no way to contact these 'Hogwarts' people – unless, perhaps…

The twins shared a look, thinking the same thing. The letter had said, 'We await your owl' – maybe the two could just find an owl somewhere in the woods and tie a reply message to its foot?

As night fell, a 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 and Alice were left to use the most ragged blanket. Unbeknownst to the Dursleys, the twins had brought their blankets and pillows, so once Dudley was snoring, they took out their things and made a proper, warmish bed.

Then, they discussed their letters.

"Something about them must have been real." Harry whispered. "They scared Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to death when they read them."

"Maybe that's why so many weird things happen to us!" Alice said. "Maybe we have some sort of…power."

Simultaneously, the twins grinned at the thought. Certainly it was possible, at least. The letters had seemed real enough; they looked very similar to the acceptance letter Dudley had received from Smeltings.

"Okay, it says 'We await your owl'," Harry said. "Does that mean any owl? Could we just go out into the woods, find an owl, and give it a response letter telling them we want to go but don't know how to go about it?"

Alice was staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked uncomfortably.

"That's it, Harry!" Alice said. "Tomorrow morning we wake up early, sneak out and row across to the woods. We can find and owl and give it the letter!"

Harry tilted his head slightly, thinking.

"But what if it has to be a special kind of owl?" he asked. "Like a magical one or something?"

"What do we have to loose?" Alice countered.

Harry didn't have an answer to that.

Even with their plan set, the twins couldn't sleep. The lightened dial of Dudley's watch told them that they would be eleven in ten minutes.

Alice traced a birthday cake in the grimy floor, writing HAPPY BIRTHDAY Harry AND ALICE on the side, so they could pretend to blow out the candles at midnight.

Five minutes to go. They heard something creak outside.

"I hope the roof doesn't fall in," said Alice worriedly.

"We might be warmer if it does," Harry countered grimly.

Four minutes to go.

"Maybe by the time morning comes, it'll be clear and easy to row across." hoped Harry.

"If morning comes."

Three minutes to go.

"Is that the water?" whispered Alice, hearing a slapping noise outside.

"What's that noise?" gasped Harry, hearing a crunching noise outside. The twins curled up tighter together. What if someone kidnapped them? On the other hand, that couldn't be much worse than the Dursleys…

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds….twenty….ten…nine…maybe they'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him…three….two…they leaned forward to blow out the fake candles….

BOOM.

The whole shack shook. Harry and Alice sat straight up. Someone was outside.