Disclaimer: Still poor, still a student.
Still can't make any promises regarding any future updates.
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Mid-July 1991, early morning
"Mum, I'm going out to the park!" Dudley hurried down the staircase. The children from the block always started the day by playing a soccer game together and he was nearly late.
"Okay, but be careful – please look –"
"- right, left, right when crossing, Mum I KNOW! Can I go now?" The eleven-year-old was nearly vibrating, slightly jumping up and down, his hand on the doorknob.
"Don't give me cheek, young man." Dudley's Mom said sternly, coming out of the kitchen with a tea towel slung across her shoulder and a slight smile on her face. "But yes, you can go."
"Thanks Mum." Dudley was out the door lightning fast.
"Be back before dark!" Petunia called after him and made to close the entrance door, when she noticed a letter laying on the doormat.
Her heart seemed to leap into her throat, when she saw that the envelope of the letter was made from high-quality parchment and had a fancy wax seal. With extreme trepidation, she turned the letter around, already knowing and dreading what she would –
Oh.
Oh, what a relief.
They had the wrong address.
Wait.
Why on earth had they sent the letter to the wrong address?
Mr. H. Potter
The Second-Largest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
SURREY
Petunia froze for a few seconds, but then quickly ripped the entrance door wide open and ran outside. She saw no one, not even one of those weird birds that she still remembered from her childhood …
Mid-July 1991 – one day earlier
Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore was Not Amused.
He was in a staring contest.
With a featherbrain. A ridiculous bird. An OWL, for Merlin's sake.
He was an internationally respected and admired wizard! He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Supreme Mugwump – he would not be beaten by an owl. If the stupid animal would just take the effing letter.
This was owl number sixty-three and the story was really getting quite old. Of course, it was a relief to know that the complicated ward-system he placed for Harry Potter's protection worked, even in its surprisingly weak state, so well that the automatic addressing of the Hogwarts acceptance letter failed. Still, after he had addressed the letter by hand an owl should easily be able to take it to the child. But each and every owl of the sixty-two he had already tried refused to depart with the letter. A few had taken it and made their way to the window, but they had always turned back after two or three beats of their wings.
It was infuriating.
He decided to try something new. He took out the Elder Wand and pointed it vaguely into the direction of the maddening, unlucky owl number sixty-three.
"So, " he said. "Either you take this letter to the address written on it right about now or you can be bald for the next few weeks before your feathers grow back!"
The owl looked at him despairingly, but extended her right leg and allowed him to fasten the letter to it. After another disapproving and superior glance, the owl took off.
Albus exhaled in relief, when he saw that the owl continued to travel southwards even after it had exited the school wards.
Now, everything was well.
"Minerva, Minerva it finally worked!"