Is This a Joke?:
At last, the silence was broken by Dudley, who had managed to seize his own acceptence letter as his parents looked at each other in obvious horror.
His chubby face quivered as he sounded out the words of the letter. After a while, his head raised to stare from his mother's face to his father's in disbelief.
"What the hell is this?" he asked indignantly.
Upon receiving no reply, he marched forward and snatched the identical letter from Harry's hands. He compared both letters for some time, even holding them up to the light as if to check their genuiness. His inspection complete, he again attempted to get some answers.
"What's Hogwarts? Why are they writing to me? I'm going to Smeltings. What does it mean by magic? I don't want to be a magician. Who's this professor McGonagall? And what does it mean, "we await your owl"?
Similar questions were flying through Harry's mind so he waited to see if anyone would answer Dudley.
Finally coming to her senses, Aunt Petunia replied in a unusually sharp tone to her son.
"Give me that letter, now Dudley," she shared a glance with her husband and seemed to come to a decision in her mind.
"It's obviously just some stupid prank that some time-waster tried to pull on us, Dudders, nothing to fuss over." She reclaimed the letter and scrunched it up.
"But how come he's got one as well then?" Dudley asked.
"And how do they know what bedroom I sleep in, and about his Cupboard?" he indicated Harry with his chin.
Aunt Petunia could not think of a plausible explanation for this, so she took both offending letters, ripped them to shreds and threw them in the stove.
"I don't want to hear another word about this from either of you," she glared at her son and nephew, "just forget about it."
But Harry could not put the mysterious letters out of his mind, even if he'd tried. He was determined to know whether this Hogwarts was a real school, and if it was possible, as much as he doubted it, that he, Harry, and his great big lump of a cousin, Dudley, were wizards.
The next morning, both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon acted as though nothing unusual had happened this time yesterday. Harry's aunt was stirring the pot of porridge while Uncle Vernon read the business section of the Daily Herald. Dudley still seemed rather befuddled and unfocused, almost sitting on top of Harry before swerving into his own chair. Harry felt quite confused himself, having had no sleep the night before due to a multitude of thoughts popping into his mind. He had lay on his bed, not even bothering to change into his pajamas, wondering about his mother, and about the school; Hogwarts, that he'd never even heard of before. He was quite sure the letters he and Dudley had received were not some one's idea of a joke; nobody around here knew Harry slept in the cupboard under the stairs.
Though he would never admit it, Dudley Dursley had obsessed over that dratted letter all night. At first, upon seeing his parents' reaction , he'd thought it was a letter of complaint sent from one of his teachers, but after stealing a glance at the letter himself, he was forced to conclude that there was indeed a school for witchcraft and wizardy called
Hogwarts, and that he, Dudley Dursley, past king of Saint Isaac's Primary School, was expected to become some sort of magician. He knew this was no joke; nobody would pull a prank on Dudley Dursley unless they wanted two black eyes.
What the hell do these-these magicians think they're playing at, he thought angrily to himself, why on earth would I want to go to some crummy school for weirdos when I've been accepted into one of the best schools in the country? Well, they were right to send a letter to his cousin, he was definitely freakish enough to be one of them, but how dare they write to me?
Just then, the Dursley's silent breakfast was interrupted by the sound of several letters flopping onto the doormat. No one moved for a moment, the memory of yesterday's events still fresh in their minds, until Vernon Dursley, raising his shoulders, marched into the hallway to retrieve the mail.
"Agh!" the remaining Dursleys and Harry heard from the hall.
"P-Petunia, they've sent more!" Vernon Dursley said, holding up his hands which clasped about ten familiar looking yellow parchment envelopes.
At once, everyone in the small kitchen stood up and rushed towards Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia's long bony legs allowed her to reach the petrified man first. She immediately made a grab for the letters, however, Harry, who wanted the chance to reread his letter, managed to snatch one as it fell towards the ground. He made a bolt for the doorway, but Uncle Vernon grabbed him around the waist and heaved him back inside the kitchen.
"That's it! I've had enough of this! Petunia, pack a suitcase, we're leaving as soon as we can!" Vernon Dursley shouted above Dudley's wails.
"Let me see my letter again! I want to know what this magical crowd wants with me!" Dudley demanded.
"And I want mine, and I want to know what you mean about my mum!" Harry shouted at Aunt Petunia.
At this last outburst from her nephew, Petunia Dursley suddenly felt the need to tell the boy exactly what was wrong with her despicable sister.
"Lily Potter," she began, "was no sister of mine. From the day she was born, I knew there was something very wrong with her. I was four years old when she came along and ruined everything," Harry's aunt spat.
"The Evans family; my parents and I, were perfectly happy until that little freak came along. My parents became entranced with her at once; 'Lily, you're so special. Lily, you're such a perfect little girl.' They thought light shone from her every orifice. And what about me? Well, I was just plain old Petunia, who couldn't even turn a toad into a teacup. They all but forgot about me when perfect little Lily got a letter just like this," she held up one of the letters, "And disappeared off to that school where she met lots of weirdos, just like herself. But my parents couldn't have been prouder to have a witch in the family." she told them.
"Did any of them care when I had started secondary school years before? No! They barely even noticed! Did they celebrate when I got outstanding results before I graduated? No! Did they wish me well before I left home and got a job? No! They never even said 'congratulations' or 'we're proud of you'. So I left and met Vernon, a perfectly respectable, hard-working man," she seemed to be talking more to herself than anything by now.
"None of my family were interested in my life though, what was Vernon Dursley compared to that-that Potter rogue-"
Harry looked at his aunt in shock, he'd never heard her talk about his father before.
"-who could make them all laugh with his antics and his magic tricks? Apparently, my husband was not interesting enough for them because he was normal!" she screeched. "And who cares about normal people if you have a bloody witch as daughter and a wizard as a son-in-law!"
"But I wasn't fooled, I saw right through her from the beginning. She used her magic," Aunt Petunia said the word as if it were a curse, "to trick them into doting on her, and on her only," she stated. "From that moment onward, I meant less than nothing to my parents."
The two other Dursleys and Harry were shocked at this long outburst from the woman who'd never so much as mentioned either of his parents names in the decade or so that Harry had lived there.
No matter what his aunt said, Harry could not believe that either of his parents had been bad people. Even though he had no memories of the short time he'd lived with them, he wholeheartedly believed that they had been decent. As he was mulling over what his hysterical aunt had said, another disturbing thought occurred to him; if his parents could do magic, then how on earth could they have died in a car crash?
He could not stop himself from putting this question to Aunt Petunia.
"How did they die?" Harry asked in a low voice.
Petunia Dursley looked at her nephew straight in the eye, for the first time in many years, seeing the eyes of her long dead sister again, and said: "They were murdered."
"M-murdered? My-my parents were murdered? The stunned boy asked, oblivious to the equally shocked look on his cousin's face, who was also hearing this for the first time.
"By one of their kind, he was called Lord Voldemort," she said simply.
"Was? So-so then he's dead too, this Voldemort?"
"Yes." was all his aunt said.
"That's it, enough bloody questions," Uncle Vernon declared.
"Petunia, we can't let that crowd take our son, it's about time some one put a stop to this." he said determinedly, whilst taking a blank sheet of paper and a ball-point pen from a drawer. Sitting down in an armchair, Uncle Vernon began to write:
Dear Albus Dumbledore, (Vernon Dursley scoffed at the name)
Upon receiving a letter from one Minerva McGonagall yesterday,
We, my wife, Petunia Dursley, and I, Vernon Dursley, would like to inform your school (another scoffing noise) that under no circumstances whatsoever will our son be attending there in September. Our Dudley has already been enrolled in one of the most prestigious schools in the United Kingdom and therefore has no interest in learning 'magic' as you call it. We will not expect any more correspondence from you.
Vernon Dursley
After reading this upside-down from across the table, Harry noted that there was no mention of him in the letter.
Uncle Vernon stood up, put his letter in an evelope, stomped into the hall and snatched his jacket off its hook,placing the letter in a pocket. Without another word to his family, he swung open the front door and drove his car down Privet Drive.
The three remaining people in number 4 dispersed from the kitchen, each one wanting to be alone with their thoughts.
Petunia Dursley's pent up ire at her sister had receded somewhat, leaving her feeling rather ashamed and angry with herself. What must Vernon think of me? she wondered.
Harry Potter could think of nothing but the newly discovered truth of how his parents had died. He did not feel anger at having been lied to for so long, rather he felt an overwhelming sorrow, almost like a fresh grievance.
But, perhaps most surprisingly of all were the thoughts in Dudley Dursley's chaotic mind. Dudley had been spoiled rotten all his life, he had never wanted for anything. He could make anyone he knew do anything he wanted, whether they did it willingly or if he had to persuade them with his fists. Because this strategy had worked so far, Dudley expected his life to be simple and straightforward. Thus, the realisation that another world existed alongside his own, where actual witches and wizards who could do magic lived, caused nothing short of a meltdown in the boy's head.
Dudley simply could not accept that magic wasn't what some phoney street performer did for money. Yet according to the booklist from his letter, which he'd managed to steal from under his mother's beady eye, students at this Hogwarts school learned things such as 'history of magic' and 'potions'. The students were even required to buy a wand. A small part of himself wondered just what would happen if waved a wand around, a larger part told him he'd just look stupid.
Amongst the many unanswered questions in his mind, Dudley pondered over the revelation about his cousin's parents. He'd never really thought about his dead aunt before now, except maybe the times when he taunted Harry about being an orphan. To him, Aunt Lily seemed like a fictional character, as if she'd never existed at all, he'd never before thought of her having once been a living, breathing woman.
A completely alien feeling struck him then as he thought this for the first time in his life. At first he could not identify the feeling, but then he realised it was sorrow, he felt sorry that his aunt was dead and that she could not live to see her son grow up.
Dudley shook himself, the more prominent side of his personality taking over; it was her own fault that she died, he thought to himself, if she hadn't been a witch she would still be alive.
Just then, a loud slam awoke the three residents of number 4 from their thoughts. Vernon Dursley had returned and was evidently in a towering temper.
"Bloody fools!" he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the house.
He continued to shout about his attempt to send his letter to Hogwarts in the local post office, only to be told by the post-master that no such place existed in all their records. His insistence that there was a school there, though he didn't say what type of school, caused the entire staff of the post office to have a good laugh at his expense.
Finally, raging at being sneered at, Vernon Dursley had stormed out of the post office, letter still in hand, and drove home.
Aunt Petunia, Dudley and Harry hesitantly crept back into the living room, not wanting to further upset Uncle Vernon, but also wanting to hear what he would attempt to do next.
"We shall revert to my original suggestion, Petunia, and leave the vicinity immediately," he said.
"Dudley, pack your rucksack with essentials only. Petunia could you pack some of our things, and you boy," he directed at Harry, "Change the oil in the car."
Not waiting for their acquiescence, Uncle Vernon rushed off into the garden shed.
At once, Aunt Petunia clapped her hands and said: "you heard Vernon, pack, Dudley, and you," she indicated Harry, "you do as he said." After that, she disappeared up the stairs into her and her husband's room. Dudley, not knowing what else to do, simply did as his father told him. Harry trod dejectedly outside to the hood of the car.
A short while later, the Dursleys and Harry congregated on the front porch. Uncle Vernon looked determined, Aunt Petunia seemed very on edge, Dudley appeared to be in a daze, whereas Harry was just annoyed at being covered in oil.
"All set then?" Uncle Vernon asked, rolling from his toes to his heels.
"Ready, Vernon." Harry's aunt replied.
All four of them squashed themselves into the car amidst the two large suitcases, and two large Dursleys.
"Off we go then!" Uncle Vernon said, "This'll shake 'em off!" he informed the rest of them gleefully.
With that, he revved up the car and proceeded to drive down the street.