A GOOD CHRISTIAN HOME

Inspired by "Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles" by proudhousewife

Chapter Two: The Letter

Everything began with a single letter, which arrived about a month before Harry's eleventh birthday. Harry was being punished for stealing cookies from the kitchen, and so was required to do all of the chores of the household for three days, including cleaning the bathrooms and washing the dishes. He'd protested innocence, but of course he was a no-good rotten liar, even if a cursory search of the cupboard had revealed no cookies.

When the mail slot creaked open, Aunt Petunia turned down her broadcast for a moment to order the boy to bring her the day's mail.

Harry dried his soapy hands on a dish towel and went to do as he was told. Usually he would not even glance at the stack before grabbing it, but this time there was a very strange envelope sitting on top of the usual bills and glossy advertisements. This envelope was a pale yellow color and was addressed in emerald-colored ink.

He couldn't help but notice that the address, which seemed to still be glistening somehow, read as follows: To Mr. Harry James Potter, Number Four Privet Drive, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, Little Whinging, Surrey. His mouth dropped open, and he carefully lifted the letter closer as if he were handling a newborn kitten. His hands were actually shaking as he checked and re-checked the address. A letter, a real letter, for him. No one had ever written him a letter before.

Could it be...? Could this finally be the sign that his aunt and uncle were always telling him would come someday? There wasn't a stamp and the address was hand-written in a beautiful calligraphic print. Harry turned it over and over in his hands. His heart was thumping madly in his chest and he prayed with all his heart that this letter would be from Jesus. It looked just as a letter from Jesus should look, he thought hopefully, even though the seal had a strange coat of arms on it.

Dudley had received his letter from Jesus last Christmas, and a more beautifully framed piece of calligraphy had never been seen. It had a place of honor right above his bed. Harry had desperately wanted one of his own for his cupboard, but he was told tersely that he wouldn't get one until he was saved and not a day sooner. He swallowed the sudden dryness in his throat several times before he finally gained the courage to break the red wax seal and open the intricately folded parchment.

The letter stated the following: "Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"—but that was as far as he read before he dropped the letter in sheer horror. Those were two bad words, very bad words indeed. Those were even worse words than the m-word. This wasn't what he had hoped for. This was the Devil playing more tricks on him. He should turn this in to Aunt Petunia right away and beg forgiveness.

Still...

A real letter...

He stood there for too long, frozen with indecision over whether to continue reading. He was still staring at the dropped letter when Dudley tromped down the stairs, wiping cookie crumbs from his lips and licking chocolate off of his fingers.

Harry tried to hide the evidence but it was too late; Dudley's little eyes gleamed with triumph and he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Mooooom, Harry's opened the mail!" Then he plopped down on the staircase to watch the fun.

Aunt Petunia swept into the hall only seconds later. "What are you doing reading our mail, you sly devil?" She cried, diving upon the stack of mail and grabbing the one Harry had opened. "The cupboard and toast for a week, and be thank... ful... it..." But as her eyes scanned the letter her words faltered, and the little points of red in her cheeks drained to white. She looked up slowly from the letter and stared at Harry with eyes so wide they were in danger of falling from her face, mouth a perfect 'o' of shock.

Then, without another word, she fled to the kitchen and slammed the door behind her.

Harry looked at Dudley and Dudley looked at Harry, both very confused. This was not how things ordinarily went. The hefty child hauled himself up from the stairs and made a point of shouldering Harry into the banister as he passed on his way to the kitchen.

But when the child tried the door, he discovered it to be locked. This caused his face to screw up with consternation—no door had ever been closed to him—and he knocked. There was no reply. "Mom?" He asked loudly. Still no sounds from the kitchen.

"B-but I need breakfast!" He wailed, knocking on the door again.

After a long pause, the door opened. Aunt Petunia peeked out. "Dudley," she said tightly, "Go to school."

"But..."

"I said, go to school."

Aunt Petunia was not angry, but something in her tone clued Dudley in to the fact that he'd better obey and obey right now. He turned around and went back up the stairs to change out of his pajamas, even though it was summer and there was no school. "And you." Harry's aunt said, still in that same odd, quiet tone. "You go into your cupboard and don't come out. You aren't going to school today."

Harry obeyed, and was not even the slightest bit surprised when he heard the bolt slide home.

Aunt Petunia realized her mistake shortly after she made it and brought Dudley into the kitchen for a surprise ice cream treat, explaining to him that Satan was playing tricks but that his father would handle it just as soon as he got home. She then planted him in front of their VHS collection of 'The Creation Adventure Team' tapes with a few snacks.

Only after her perfect angel was settled did she go to the cupboard and unlock it. "Follow me." She ordered through tight lips, all the false good humor she had managed for Dudders dissipating like smoke. She brought Harry up to the spare bedroom where Marge usually stayed during her visits and sank into the armchair, one hand clutching the letter so tightly that it surely would have ripped by now, had it been made of regular paper. "Explain." Her tone was almost a whisper, and Harry realized with a start that his aunt was beyond furious. That was why her nostrils were flaring and her lips were pressed into a hard white line.

"I... it was a letter, to me." He said hesitantly. "It was just in the mail, on top of the stack like the others." Earning no response from his aunt led him to desperately press on. "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I'm sorry... I didn't mean it... I don't know where it came from, honest. I... I..." Here he faltered and bit his lip, unable to continue. He could feel dread crawling under his skin, tasted metal in the back of his throat.

Mrs. Dursley closed her eyes and sank deeper into the armchair with a miserable sigh. Now the anger faded into sadness, and her chin began to tremble faintly. When her eyes opened, her lashes were damp and she looked fit to cry. "Why, Harry...?" She asked, sounding so sad. "Haven't we done enough, sacrificed enough? Why do you continually turn to sin?"

Harry lost his ability to stand and sank to the floor on shaking knees. He couldn't speak, the guilt and shame blocking his throat and leaving him nauseous. He'd made his aunt, the closest person to a mother he'd ever had, want to cry. The thought was enough to make tears well up in his own eyes. He was bad. He was a bad, stupid, sinful boy and he would burn in Hell no matter what and it would be all his fault. No matter how much the Dursleys tried to help him, he would never change.

"You just go back to your cupboard, now." Aunt Petunia said, still in that same faint, sad tone. "You go back and you repent and pray and we just won't tell Uncle Vernon what's happened, all right?"

The tears did fall then, because Harry had been expecting something along the lines of 'You just wait until I tell your uncle!' and this unexpected kindness was more than he deserved. He looked up at his aunt through his tears and could swear he saw an angel's countenance shadowed over hers. "Thank you." He whispered, and retreated to the dark safety of his cupboard.

Aunt Petunia didn't leave the spare bedroom for a long time, but finally emerged after an hour of staring at a wall and another ten minutes finding a suitable place to hide the letter. A loose floorboard proved most convenient and soon there was no trace of the filthy, wicked thing.

Many hours later, Harry finally wondered why his aunt, who shared every miniscule detail of her life with his uncle, would choose not to tell him this. But no answer presented itself, and so he fell into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

The content of Harry's letter is quoted from the Philosopher's Stone. Not mine, don't sue. I use U.S. terminology because I am a lazy United States citizen and I don't feel like having to translate for those of my fellows who don't know that biscuits are sweet in the U.K. or that mail is called post. If it's horribly distracting, I'll change it. There are real framed letters from Jesus available; I own one that is painted on wood and is quite stunningly rendered if I do say so myself (makes a lovely coaster, honestly). 'The Creation Adventure Team' is a real show as well, although I earnestly wish it wasn't. Youtube at your own risk.

I will reiterate. THIS IS A WORK OF PARODY. That is all.

We'll be getting to the Devil in the next chapter. I felt it was necessary to have this chapter here, for reasons you'll understand eventually. Anyway, see ya real soon!