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Chapter 3: Hisses and Letters

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Being an early bird, Harry was awake as soon as the sunbeams infiltrated the room. Snores that came from the other bed indicated that Dudley was still asleep. Harry shook his head in disbelief, reaching for his glasses. Of course Dudley would oversleep even on his birthday.

Not bothering to be quiet, Harry thumped over to his wardrobe and donned his outfit for the day, dark gray shirt (aunt insisted gray made his eyes stand out), matching jeans and some trainers he'd never put on before. Frankly, he did not even remember when he had got those.

Dudley's snores did not lessen by the time Harry was done with clothes selection and his morning bathroom routine, so he descended to the kitchen alone.

There he was greeted with a familiar sight: Petunia was flitting around the kitchen and balancing between various dishes while Vernon sat engrossed with his daily paper. Harry frowned a bit at the smell that was a byproduct of cooking; it had permeated the kitchen walls with time, and they constantly smelled like a mixture of eggs, potatoes, and roasted beans. It was mildly nauseating.

"Morning," he greeted, making a beeline for the fridge.

Uncle Vernon grunted in response, while Petunia took a moment to scan Harry for any creases on his clothes. Once satisfied with his appearance, she greeted him back: "Good morning, sweetums. Is Diddy still asleep?"

Harry nodded, popping open a can of Pepsi. A morning without something sweet to start with it, could not be called good. He made sure to snatch a Snickers too once Vernon sent him a glare of warning. His uncle insisted the boy simply needed calories, in his opinion Harry was woefully underweight. Harry was not likeminded, but he would never turn down extra snacks. He guessed he was lucky fat refused to stick onto him.

"Would you be a darling and wake him up?" Harry's aunt requested, and he gave a nod, not trusting himself to speak with full mouth.

The half finished can and bar with chew marks ended up on the counter, most likely to be forgotten. Harry rushed back up the stairs and burst trough the door with a whoop that might have been enough to wake a deaf man. Not Dudley, though.

"Oi, Dud!" he jumped up on the bed and gave his cousin a shake. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey…"

Dudley mumbled something, most likely a swearword.

"Come on, the breakfast is almost done," Harry encouraged, all the while shaking the mattress on purpose. "We're gonna eat it all without you."

"Ma's gonna make 'ore…" Dudley muttered, covering his head with his pillow. "Shoo, bonebag…"

Harry grinned smugly, as a brilliant idea struck him.

"D, you won't believe it. Your parents must've forgotten it's your birthday, I swear, I checked and there is not a single gift anywhere in the house."

Dudley bolted up with a vociferous: "WHAT?"

The motion was enough to unsettle Harry from his position; he landed on the polished floor flat on his bottom.

Unperturbed, he lifted himself with the grin still upon his face.

"Gotcha."

It took Dudley a while to process the fact he'd just been tricket, which gave Harry enough time to run out of the room.

"I'll get you for this!" Dudley shouted after Harry.

Dudley was of course not going to. His cousin was a bit slow, and he would most likely forget he had a score to settle as soon as something else angered him. Thank God for small mercies.

Sure enough, Harry was proven right as always. Dudley forgot all about Harry's trick once he counted his presents up to discover there was not enough of them. It took Petunia much patience and persuasion to prevent a tantrum so loud it'd make everyone's ears within a mile bleed. While Harry usually preferred subtler methods to obtain what he desired, he had to admit Dudley's was pretty effective too.

The breakfast went on as usual. Dudley was stuffing his mouth with impressive speed, swallowing without chewing often. Harry abandoned his second helping of sausage links (they ended piled on top of Dudley's) in favor of heavily syruped waffles. Vernon ate and read simultaneously while Petunia picked with little enthusiasm at her small portion, eyes hawkishly fixed upon the boys to make sure they ate enough.

After the breakfast, Dudley's best friend, Piers, joined them for the trip to the zoo. Harry did not like Piers much, the boy had little will on his own and parroted everything Dudley did, but Harry never voiced it. Piers was a part of their little flock at the school, and was one of Dudley's best henchmen. He had his uses.

Thankfully, the boy was more similar to Harry in weight, or else the car trip would've turned out a nightmare. This way Harry evaded being crushed between someone's bulk and the door.

For the duration of the trip, the boys discussed Dudley's newest games they were all going to play together later that day, while Petunia silently listened to Vernon lamenting on the noisy motorcycles. It was quite hypocritic of him, seeing as Dudley and Harry made quite a lot of noise on a daily basis, and Vernon had not chided them for it once.

Truth be told, the boys were never chided for anything. The closest they had ever got to it was that one occasion when Petunia and Vernon went to the spa with aunt Marge and left the boys alone for the day. They had promptly decided to play mommy and daddy, Dudley playing the daddy part, of course. His cousin shared his uncle distaste with all actions and things that could be branded feminine.

Dudley had occupied Vernon's spot in front of the television, old newspapers in hand and a glass of brandy on the coffee table, while Harry picked up Pet's most outrageous apron (with pink frills and daisy print), and tried to prepare some bacon. By the time their family had returned, Dudley had only been capable of producing inebriated giggles, and Harry had succeeded to burn all the bacon and ruin the bottom of aunt's newest pan.

Petunia had sported a look of utter fury on her face and Harry had been certain they would get a smack or two. Aunt Marge had saved the situation, with genuine amusement recalling her and Vernon getting up to similar mischief when they were their age. In the end, Vernon had allowed the matter to slide with 'boys are gonna be boys' excuse.

That Saturday was particularly hot, so the boys were purchased the biggest ice-creams they sold at the entrance. Even animals were affected by the heat, most of them hiding under any shade available. Harry enjoyed simply observing the various species, while Dudley and Piers lost any interest in them by lunch.

Harry was not impressed with the quality of the food the zoo had to offer, he preferred his aunt's cooking and sandwiches they served at the golf club Vernon was a member of. Dudley was not impressed with the quantity of it, on the other side. Even though he had been ordered a double portion, he finished it in record time and started to steal from Harry's when no one looked.

When he was ultimately caught, he pretended he was putting the food down on the plate, exclaiming: "There, H, have this, I'm full."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged looks full of pride. Harry did not bother to correct them. Dudley had a jealous streak, and if there came a day when he'd start to suspect they thought Harry was the better boy, their relationship would suffer. Dense as he was, Harry still appreciated his cousin's company, as well as the protection his intimidating presence brought. Harry could not use his 'abilities' to protect him in every situation, lest he risked to eventually be caught.

With their stomachs overfilled, the boys lazily dragged themselves to the reptile house, while Vernon and Petunia stayed behind to enjoy more of the chilled lemonade, and Harry doubted, peace. The cool air of the reptile's abode was a welcome change from the sun's heat. Harry was impressed with all sorts of reptilians crawling around, their scales glistening under the lights from the lit windows. There was a certain elegance to their movements not even felines possessed.

Piers decided to observe the chameleons, while Harry followed Dudley towards the largest specimen. It was a being of stunning beauty, its scales a softest brown patterned with gray saddles dark enough to be mistaken for black. The snake was so big it would have trouble fitting in their bedroom, and Harry could not help the pang of sorrow he felt as his eyes fell on the plate that read: this specimen was bred in the zoo.

Dudley rapped on the glass to get the snake's attention, but it was a fruitless effort. The snake was dozing off.

"Boring," Dudley sighed out. "Make it do something, H."

With an eye roll, Harry knocked on the glass with no enthusiasm. He felt for the animal that must had been exasperated with people staring at it the whole day.

"Hey, snakey…"

Harry did not expect the snake to react, and was surprised as it lifted its head with striking speed and grace to match.

"You sssspeak?"

Harry was about to tell Dudley he'd been speaking for ages already, and not even he was that dense not to notice when it occurred to him that Dudley did not hiss. His voice was not feminine either.

"Wha'? What did you do?" Dudley demanded to know in a baffled voice.

"Hello, you…"

There it was again, the lilting hiss from a second before.

"Me?" Harry asked, whirling his head around in an attempt to locate the one who addressed him.

"Yessssss, you, tiny hatchling."

Hatchling?

Eyes wide as saucers, Harry turned back towards the snake. It flicked its tongue against the glass, parallel to his face.

"You sspoke… Like one of usssss…"

"I'm not a snake!" Harry shouted. He did not care someone was going to hear and consider him raving mad. It was enough he was starting to feel like it.

"H-Harry…" Dudley's voice sounded again from his right, confused and somewhat… scared?

"Ssssssssss…" The snake sounded as though it was laughing, or doing whatever it was snake did instead of it. "Of coursssse you arrrre not. But you have the gift."

"What gift?" Harry asked.

Could it be that his magic allowed him to understand animals and be understood in return? Why had it never occurred before? Sure, the animals liked him enough, but none of them had ever spoken.

"That's it! We're out of here!"

Before the snake could do anything but hiss in amusement, Dudley not-so-gently grabbed the baffled Harry and dragged him away from the reptile house and out in the sweltering sun. Piers was left forgotten among the lizards.

"What was that?" Dudley demanded to know in the voice that worked wonders on Petunia and Vernon, but Harry had no patience for at the moment.

"What was what?" Harry snapped, wrenching his arm free. "What did you drag me away for?"

"You were standing there and hissing at that snake like a moron!" Dudley accused. "You went bonkers with the heat?"

"I was talking with it," Harry corrected him, ignoring the offensive words.

"No, you were hissing," Dudley insisted. "And it—" Dudley fell silent, obviously having a hard time to put the two pieces of information into a complete picture. "You can talk with snakes! In snake language!"

"I—What? No!" Harry faltered, recalling the voice for some reason only he had heard. Dudley would have certainly mentioned if he'd heard the snake speak almost like a human as well. "Yes? Maybe? I don't know…"

"Is that what magic people do?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied honestly.

"Ma's gonna freak out."

Harry paled. Aunt Petunia hated magic. For her it was not a wonder or a gift as it was for Harry, but a looming threat that risked her comfortable day to day existence. Harry had promised he was going to keep it under control, and there he was, speaking to a snake in the crowded zoo. She was going to be so disappointed, and uncle Vernon too. They were not going to be able to keep him if he displayed unnatural behavior.

"Please, Diddy, don't tell aunt. You know she's just gonna worry unnecessarily."

Dudley pouted, yet again sinking into his thoughts.

"Fine," he grunted eventually. "But I get a present from your birthday pile. Of my choosing."

Harry sighed out in relief. Dudley was the easiest person in the world to make deals with.

"Sure. Get two."

Dudley gave him a smile aunt Petunia would have swooned over.

"You know you're the best cousin ever, right?"


Marrying Petunia Evans was one of Vernon Dursley's smartest life choices. She was a diligent housekeeper, a devoted mother, and a sympathetic spouse. She knew just what to say in any given situation, and knew to recognize those moments when words were undesired.

Their love had never been that of amorous sayings and quickened heartbeats, it was a deep-seated respect and unconditional support of kindred spirits. They needed no words to know the wants of the other, no encouragement to act upon those.

By simple observation Vernon could tell what was going on with his wife, and he had been detecting certain peculiarities to her behavior for the past month. She had grown quieter, had forgotten to water her plants, those she treated with almost reverence, twice, placed a deep red shirt in the laundry with the whites, oversalted meals and broke dishes too many to count.

Petunia never said a word, and Vernon never pushed for it. He knew all too well what it was about.

The boy, Harry.

His eleventh birthday was approaching, and there was no doubt the freaks were going to come requesting for his presence at the school of hocus pocus. The boy himself was sadly a freak.

Were it not for his magic, Vernon would've given him a name long ago. He'd have been Harry Dursley, for the boy merited it with many a thing. He was a good student, good cousin, good child. He had that tiny head of his in the right place. In one of his essays, those that were most likely assigned to weed the bad apples from the start, where he had to write about his aspirations, the boy had written he one day hoped to become a successful and respected businessman like his uncle.

Begrudgingly, Vernon nursed pride for the boy, and unlike Petunia, he thought him capable of choosing the right thing.

"You know, Pet, just because he's going to get that foul invite, it doesn't mean he'll want to go," he voiced one night when she was cleaning the leftover dishes, and he made her company in the kitchen, solving crosswords.

Petunia stiffened, long fingers twisting around the dish rag.

"What else is he going to do, Vern? That's—that's where his kind is. His future."

"We can ensure him a good future too," Vernon insisted. "He's going to attend Smeltings alongside Dudley. You know he's excited about it."

Petunia closed the tap and turned around to face him. There was a new wrinkle on her forehead.

"Because Harry's ambitious. He took after you, your teachings, now—"

"Bloody sure he did," Vernon confirmed, not even bothering to hide his pride in front of his wife as he hid it in front of the boy occasionally.

"—just imagine how excited he's going to be when he discovers there's a whole world out there that thinks him a celebrity."

They never mentioned that little detail to Harry. It was a superfluous information he had no business thinking about.

"Harry's grown smart enough to understand it as the rubbish it is. Who in their sane mind could even think about the baby defeating a highly dangerous criminal?" Vernon sighed, folding his crossword and putting the pen down. "Look here, Pet. Harry's not his parents. We made sure of that. We never encouraged his freakishness as your parents have done to your sister. He knows magic for what it is. Unnatural. He did not have outbursts for years. He's never used it for something too freakish even before. He never said the word itself in front of us."

"I know, Vern, but…" she trailed off, and brought one trembling hand around her neck. Choking on a sob: "They took my sister away, perverted her until she was no longer my Lily. I-I don't want to lose him too."

Vernon stood up and patted her shoulder awkwardly. He was never much good at all that soothing business.

"And you are not going to. We raised him a good lad. Just like you wanted when he was a wee lump. Have faith in our teachings. Have faith in the boy."


Harry developed a strong dislike for his new Smeltings uniform. The color combination was an eyesore, and his legs looked silly in those knickerbockers. Dudley looked like a melted cake with lazily poured maroon-and-orange topping in it. It took Harry every ounce of strength not to laugh at the picture of them wearing those outfits Dursley's had so proudly framed in their living room. He was going to bite his tongue in half with the effort soon, seeing as he was passing next to it often.

However, Harry was quite fond of the cane that accompanied the ensemble. It reminded him of those posh gentlemen from period dramas his aunt watched sometimes. It was Dudley's favorite piece too, though it was merely due to the reverberating sound it made when being banged against something.

One July morning, just when Dudley and Harry had their stick battle interrupted because the breakfast was done and served, there came the click of the letter box.

"Dudley, get the post," Vernon ordered, not looking up from his paper.

"Harry, get the post," Dudley said, stuffing his mouth with the cooked egg.

Harry obeyed, sneering at his cousin's laziness. He himself preferred not to sit in one place for too long, unless there was something interesting on the television.

There were just three letters, and Harry read the inscriptions aloud before handing them to Uncle Vernon.

"There's a bill, a postcard from aunt Marge, and—"

Harry fell silent as his eyes fell upon the last one. The envelope was heavy, made out of something Harry thought was old fashioned parchment. The address on it was written in shiny green ink, fancy manuscript.

Mr H. Potter

The Shared Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

"There's a letter for me," he announced, turning the letter around in his hands. "There's some strange coat of arms on it."

Harry thought it weird indeed, but not weird enough to warrant the actions of his family. Vernon choked on his coffee, spluttering some on the paper. Petunia turned a shade of mortuary white and squealed as the last kitten Dudley had run over with his remote tank.

"Oh, goodness—What are we going to do, Vernon?"

Harry looked at the letter again, searching for anything that could explain the panic.

The Shared Bedroom…

Was it possible the letter was written by a stalker, and uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia knew of them?

"It's even addressed to my bedroom," Harry said, eyes darting between his guardians. "Are we being stalked? Should we call the police?"

Vernon let out a sigh, dropping his paper carelessly.

"Tell him, Pet."

Petunia shook her head, curls flying around.

"Tell me what?"

"Harry, boy—"

"Vernon, don't!" Petunia shrieked, confusing Harry further. Even Dudley was by now interested enough to stop eating and listen.

"What is going on?" Harry demanded to know, wrinkling the envelope in frustration. "Why are you so scared because of a stupid letter? Surely there's not a bomb inside."

"It's from the school," Vernon said before Petunia could react. "The one your parents went to."

Harry's brows joined in the frown. They never mentioned his parents. It was a taboo in the household. Harry knew the Dursley's had low opinion on them, and curious as he was, he'd never tried to dig for the information out of respect.

"And what would they want from me?" Harry questioned carefully.

"To go there. Learn how to be a freak," Vernon said unceremoniously.

"L-Lily got one when she was your age too," Petunia whispered. She was now leaning against the kitchen counter for support, tearing the unfortunate ribbon on her apron.

"So it's a school where kids learn tricks? Pulling rabbits out of hats and such?"

Petunia laughed nervously.

"Something like that."

Harry rolled his eyes, dropping the letter on the table. It almost landed on the butter.

"That's not going to help me get a high paid job, is it, Uncle Vern?" Harry asked with a snort. A school for magical tricks? Certainly, he had to admit magic could have its uses, but a school dedicated to it was too much. Did people really waste their time on such nonsense they had enough students to form a school?

"Right you are, boy, right you are," Vernon grunted with a clap of his hands. "Told you he was not going to accept the invitation, Pet."

Harry's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. They expected the letter to arrive, had discussed it beforehand. He wondered how much other things they were keeping from him. If only he could ask…

"Then the offer can go through the window. I'm going to Smeltings with Dudley," Harry stated with firmness in his voice.

Petunia let out a sigh. Dudley decided his breakfast was of bigger importance than listening in, returning to the arduous process that annihilating two thirds of the food served was.

"Write them a letter back. Say that you refuse," Petunia demanded with bated breath. "Let's not make their headmaster think we are the ones keeping you from attending."

Harry still did not quite understand what scared his aunt so. They could not force him to attend, or god forbid, report his family to authorities, could they?

"Okay, sure…" Harry agreed, determined not to wait and see whether his suspicions would come true.

He had picked up enough big words from all the business gatherings they attended as Vernon's family. Harry could write a letter to a person in position decent enough not to embarrass his guardians or put the quality of his upbringing in question.


Esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore,

Honored as I'm to be offered a place in your institution, I'm afraid I have to decline your generous offer. I have already obtained a place in Smeltings Academy, which I'm sure you have heard of as one of more prestigious secondary schools in England. I've studied hard to earn admittance, and my family has already paid my tuition fees for the year. I'm sure you understand how impolite and unwise it would be of me to change schools in the last moment.

Best regards and wishes,

Harry J. Potter.

Albus finished reading the letter aloud. It fluttered out of his wizened hands and onto the desk as the room sunk into silence. Minerva stared at the letter as though she could not believe its existence. Even Severus let his perplexity show, one eyebrow arched up almost to his hairline.

"I knew this was going to happen," Minerva said, a scathing quality to her voice. "I knew those Muggles would fill his head with all that anti-magic nonsense. This—" Minerva thumped her palm against the letter. "This is an outrage! To even think about James and Lily's son not attending Hogwarts!"

"I personally fail to see where does your surprise come from, Minerva," Severus drawled, "I think it is quite obvious our school is not prestigious enough for little," his lips curled in disgust, and the following words were uttered simply for the sake of putting salt on Minerva's wounds, "Harrypuff."

Minerva jerked as though hit by a curse, but said nothing in response to her colleague. Albus was impressed Severus could pronounce the infamous nickname without a twitch.

"Albus… Albus, are you sure this is really Harry's writing?" she questioned hopefully.

Albus placed his forearms upon the table with a sigh.

"The hand that wrote it is most definitively that of a child."

"Maybe he was forced to write it, and—"

"Minerva," Albus interrupted her gently, "no one's forced young Mister Potter to write anything. I'm not surprised he's unwilling to leave behind the life he's planned out already. A lot of Muggleborn students turn us down for similar reasons."

"But he's no Muggleborn, he's the Potter's child!" Minerva almost shouted. "Surely we can't just let it be."

They could not, and Albus rued that fact. No matter his feelings and wishes for the Potter's offspring, he would've never interfered with Harry's life decision were it not the only way. Harry had a lot snatched away from him, and to have the decision pertaining his future lost to him as well, was a cruel thing.

"I'd like nothing more for young Harry than to leave his life decisions his, and his alone, but the attendance of Hogwarts is mandatory to him. In case the evil returns, and return it unfortunately shall, he will need all the knowledge and allies he can get."

"What do you suggest us to do?" Severus questioned, observing with mild interest his little finger, tinged blue thanks to one of his potion ingredients. "You surely won't make one of us drag the Potter's brat in by his hair. Not that I'd have any objections, of course, the boys seems to have never known real discipline…"

Albus sent him a warning look, coughing slightly.

"No one's going to drag Harry by hair or any other part." Smiling fondly at the letter, written with some sort of strange, thin blue ink: "Our Harry fortunately appears to be a very bright young man. I'm certain he would understand the gravity of the situation if explained."

"Albus, we can't just tell the boy he's destined to fight one of the most powerful wizards in entire existence," Minerva protested. "He's too young."

"Of course not, Minerva, dear," Albus agreed. "We will merely make him understand how big of a symbol he is for the Wizarding community."

"We?" Severus quizzed, this time lifting both eyebrows. "Surely you don't intend to send the whole Hogwarts staff to plead with the brat?"

"That won't be necessary," Albus said to sooth his qualms. "I'm thinking of making a visit to the Dursley's in perso—"

"I'll go," Minerva interrupted him, a spark in her eyes.

"Minerva—"

"No, Albus. James has been my favorite student, and I loved him almost as my own child." With an unforgiving frown: "You did not let me take the boy in when I wanted to, and I understand you had your own reasons, but you owe me at least this."

Albus steepled his fingers and pondered the witch's words. As their teacher, Minerva was closer to Harry's parents than Albus had ever been. Perhaps she would find a way to the boy's heart. Severus would've been a better option, thanks to his close-knit relationship with Lily, but sadly the man was not yet ready to led go of his old wounds.

"Very well, Minerva," he allowed in the end, looking at her above his spectacles. "See that you do not fail. I'm afraid the fate of the entire Wizarding World as we know it depends on the success of this little mission."


Lucy Elizabeth Dawson: Haha, yeah. That can't be easy. Though I'm trying to keep Harry from being a total spoiled brat, I just don't think he has it in him to throw temper tantrums 24/7.

SlytherinBtch: Thank you so much! Come to think of it, I didn't find one either, so I decided to write it. I know almost all of us wish Harry was loved by the Dursleys and had a happy childhood, but then again, I always wondered how exactly that would turn out for him, seeing the type of persons they are. It's really a plot with many possibilities.