Chapter 4

Something was wrong.

Harry was... happy.

Well, maybe not happy —it wasn't as if he ever smiled or laughed—, but he wasn't as miserable as he should be. He was grounded, only allowed out of his cupboard to do chores, and yet he seemed fine, as if doing chores and being locked up were both things he enjoyed rather than suffered.

It was wrong.

Harry had ruined Dudley's birthday doing his freakishness at the zoo, and then the other day he had again done something weird at the Robinsons' house. He should be suffering for it, but he wasn't. Not enough.

Something had to be done.

His plan was simple: frame Harry for some crime so Dad would give him a harder punishment. It wasn't as if Harry didn't deserve it. When they were little sometimes Dudley's toys would disappear for real, and it was Harry who had taken them although he always denied it. Harry always denied all the freaky things he did, so Dad would not believe anything he said.

It was easy to find a moment to do it. On Sunday afternoon Dad was watching TV in the living room while Mum was busy redecorating upstairs and Harry was outside doing chores, so no one noticed when Dudley sneaked downstairs and opened the cupboard. After considering the limited options, he figured that under the mattress was as good place as any to hide the evidence (Dudley's new gold wristwatch), so he lifted it a little and...

And he found an envelope.

Dudley's first thought was that Harry had stolen one of Dad's letters and he would get into so much trouble for it, but when he picked it up he saw that it was addressed to Mr. H. Potter.

Who would write to Harry?

Steps coming down the stairs alerted Dudley that his mum was approaching, so he quickly closed the cupboard's door and went to lock himself in the bathroom so he could read the letter without interruption.

The first page said:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

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

School of witchcraft?

Order of Merlin?

Supreme what?

Wizards?

Completely befuddled, Dudley emptied the envelope and examined the other contents. There was a train ticket, and also the list of books and equipments that was mentioned in the first page. All the books' titles were weird, most of them apparently about magic, and it said students must have a wand and a cauldron too. And they could have toads as pets if they wanted.

Dudley frowned at the letter. This made it sound as if Harry was some sort of... wizard. Someone with magical powers, like Merlin. But that couldn't be right. Harry was just Harry. The freak.

Although he could do weird things, even if he denied it. Dad always said Harry was guilty for all the abnormal stuff that happened, and Dudley had seen it with his own eyes. Like the time Harry had jumped over a roof, or when he had turned their teacher's wig blue. Or the incident in the zoo. Piers said that Harry had been talking with the snake before it all happened, and Dad had punished Harry for the missing glass. He had called it freakishness, but what if it was actually magic?

Dudley didn't like this. Freakishness was one thing, magic quite another. It wasn't the same if Harry was a freak than if he was a wizard. Especially if there were others like him with their own fancy schools and books and uniforms. It all sounded so cool!

And it was wrong. If someone should have magical powers and go to a magical school, it should be Dudley, not Harry. Harry was supposed to go to a worse school than him, to have nothing and be no one in comparison.

Did his parents know about this? Had they enrolled Harry in that special school? Were they going to buy him all that magical stuff?

It was not fair! Dudley would not allow it! If he had to, he would refuse to eat or even breathe until his parents promised that Harry would not go. Or at least that Dudley could go too and have even better things than Harry.

Yes, that's how it was supposed to be. Harry must always have less and be lower, wizard or not he would always be a freak and he must be reminded of his place. Their family had been perfect until Harry had been dropped at their doorstep, Mum and Dad always said so. Harry had ruined everything with his abnormality, he had embarrassed them and taken food off their table without even showing proper gratefulness. He was always there, making their family look bad by association, causing trouble and demanding more as if he were entitled to anything.

Harry couldn't be better than Dudley nor have something that he didn't. Either both of them were wizards and Dudley was better, or none of them were and Dudley still was better and went to a better school. That's how it was supposed to be.

He was confident that he could make his parents do what he said, but he was still furious, because he knew, he just knew, that he didn't have magical powers like Harry. He had never made anything impossible happen. He couldn't jump over a building, nor turn things another colour with a thought, nor talk to animals, nor make glass disappear or break. And after reading this letter he could no longer tell himself that it was all abnormal freakishness that shouldn't exist. Now he realized that it was magic, magic that Harry had and Dudley didn't. That Harry would always have even if Dudley managed to convince his parents of not letting him go to that school of witchcraft. And it was wrong! He should have magic, or at least Harry shouldn't have it either.

Dudley considered to go straight to his parents and start complaining, but he was too angry so without really deciding it he went to confront his pathetic cousin first, knowing that he would find him cleaning the gutters of the shed.

He noticed again that Harry seemed almost to be enjoying the work when he should be having a miserable time. His good mood made sense now, of course. He was happy because he thought he was going to go to a magical school and become a wizard like Merlin. As if that was going to happen!

"Hey, freak!" he called up angrily.

Harry ignored him, and that made Dudley more furious. Nobody ignored him!

"I found your dirty letter!"

This time Harry's head jerked in his direction so fast that he must have suffered whiplash, and Dudley saw with satisfaction that his first reaction was fear that grew up to panic when he caught sight of the letter. Harry usually wasn't much afraid of him, that's why Dudley kept beating him down, but it was good to see that he was afraid now.

Of course the freak got angry almost immediately, but he had already given himself away.

"Give that back, Dudley!" he yelled from the roof.

"I don't think so," said Dudley with a smirk. "It's mine now."

"It's not!"

"I bet Mum and Dad will say it is when I ask them to let me keep it."

Again, Harry gave himself away by glancing apprehensively in the direction of the house. So his parents didn't know anything about this, thought Dudley with relief. The freak was keeping it a secret.

"They will never let you go, you know," mocked him Dudley. "They will lock you forever in your cupboard before giving you permission."

He could see doubt and fear in Harry's eyes, but as he watched him another expression took over his face, one that Dudley had never seen before. It was cold, and hard, and too confident for Dudley's liking.

"What makes you think anyone can keep me locked up?" asked Harry derisively. "I vanished that glass in the zoo, Dudley, and smashed all the Robinsons' windows. I could reduce your house to dust with just a wish! And I will do it if you don't give that letter back to me and keep your mouth shut."

A shiver ran down Dudley's spine. It wasn't the threatening words that froze his blood, but the look in Harry's eyes, and the dark promise in his tone. The fact that for the first time Harry was admitting what he had done also made Dudley feel unsettled and wary.

"You're bluffing," he said after a tense moment, trying to sound sure and unafraid. "You did those freaky things by accident, you can't do it on purpose."

"If you think it was an accident, why did I get punished every time?" asked Harry coldly. "Anyway, that was before. Now that I know what I am I can control it. So give me my letter, Dudley, and don't say anything to anyone or I promise you you will regret it."

Dudley was beginning to think that maybe it was better if Harry went away and never came back, but he just couldn't let the freak win. This was wrong, all wrong. Dudley should be the one making the threats and Harry the one afraid and defeated, when had the world gone crazy?

"You have no money," he said, searching for some weak point that could give him leverage over Harry. "Mum and Dad will not buy you all that magical stuff and they won't pay for that fancy school. They won't even give you food or a roof over your head if you threaten us."

Harry snorted.

"As if they have given me much. I don't need your money, Dudley, sorcerers can make gold from any metal. I will send you some if you keep your part of the bargain. Now give me the letter!"

Dudley hesitated. Was that bit about the gold true? For a moment he entertained the possibility of making a profitable deal with Harry. It definitely sounded like a good idea to keep sorcerers on one's side and in a generous mood... But this was Harry! This was the freak that should have nothing and be no one, whose place was below Dudley and inside his cupboard.

He forced himself to clear his head and remember who he was dealing with. His cousin had given himself away right at the start, before he had put on this tough and scary mask to try to intimidate him. His first reaction to seeing the letter in Dudley's hand had been fear, just as he had seemed afraid of Mum and Dad finding out, so maybe he was bluffing. Harry wanted his letter and he wanted to keep it a secret, and that meant that those things could be used to hurt him. Dudley would bet that his Dad could still beat the crap out of the freak, sorcerer or not. And for all his talk about reducing the house to dust with a wish, Harry was still here, which meant that he needed the food and the roof over his head.

And he needed the letter... because of the train ticket!

Dudley considered to use this leverage to negotiate a better deal, but once again he forced himself to remember that this was Harry. He didn't make deals with freaks, and he would not let him get away with being a wizard when Dudley couldn't be one too. If he couldn't go to the magical school, then Harry would not go either.

He stared at the yellowish envelop in his hands. The address was written in emerald-green ink, and it seemed to confirm what Dudley was thinking.

The Cupboard under the Stairs.

That was Harry's place, even the other freaks knew it.

He looked up at Harry, mentally calculating how much of an advantage it would give him the fact that he was on ground level while his cousin would need to climb off the roof before starting after him.

"I hope you can conjure up another train ticket," he said with a cruel smirk.

And then he broke into a run.

Harry was yelling, but he ignored him and continued running towards the house, shredding the envelop into pieces as he went. Fortunately his mum wasn't in the kitchen, so there was no one to stop or delay him when he went straight to the stove and hurriedly turned on the biggest burner before feeding the pieces of magical letter to it.

By the time Harry burst into the kitchen, only a few seconds later, there was almost nothing left.

"Oh, and I will tell Mum and Dad," informed him Dudley triumphantly. "I don't think Dad is going to like hearing about your threats."

Harry had frozen at the back door, chest heaving and eyes fixed on the carbonized letter. He looked so upset that for a long moment Dudley thought he was going to cry, but when he turned his eyes in his direction they were dry and hard as stone. Harry's entire face was contorted in hatred and fury.

The next Dudley knew was pain beyond anything he had ever experienced, so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew who he was; white-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, and he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life; it was as if his very bones and every nerve in his body was on fire; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end... to black out... to die...