Whelp, guys, I couldn't keep you hanging for long! So here's the continuation of Harry and Haley Potter and the Philosopher's Stone! I hope everyone's day went well! It was my friend's birthday and we went out at night in the dark playing tag. I nearly climbed a fence and I torn my jeans in the process! But never fear, I know how to sew so I was able to fix it up!

Okay, enough yapping for now. It's really early in the morning where I'm at...and I got work today so I need to get a few hours of sleep.

But as always...REMEMBER TO READ AND REVIEW PLS PLS PLS! :) TYSM LOVE YOU ALL!

- El

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After thinking that there would be no more letters to arrive after that day, we were proven wrong.

The extreme tension at breakfast the following morning was immaculate. Dudley had stayed up all night, wailing about Harry and me receiving his extra room. Neither of us had slept at all. Uncle Vernon decided to stay home from work that day, perhaps out of fear of the mysterious letters.

We all sat silently, waiting for the post to come as we ate our breakfast. Uncle Vernon had his paper up, covering his face from view, but I could tell that his eyes did not move along the lines of words. Dudley sat with a blank expression from the shock of yesterday's events replaying in his head. Aunt Petunia sat with her arms crossed without touching her food. It was as if someone had died in our home the previous night and we had woken to a lingering ghost in the house.

I looked at Harry and he shrugged. The table was too eerily quiet.

Finally, at the end of breakfast, the mail slot opened, and the soft landing of the mail landing on the front door mat echoed throughout the hall.

Uncle Vernon, wanting to be polite to Harry and me for some odd reason, made Dudley get the mail this time.

I listened intently as Dudley heaved himself from his seat and went to retrieve the mail, banging his Smelting stick in the hallway.

He came running back quickly, waving two letters in his hand. My eyes hoovered over to the envelope as Haryr and I darted up from the table.

"Dad! Dad! There are two more! They say 'Mr. H. Potter, the Smallest Bedroom, and Miss H. Potter, the Smallest Bedroom–"

With a cry of terror, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and dashed into the hall, with Harry and I at his tail. Uncle Vernon wrestled the letter out of Dudley's hand, which was very difficult because Harry had jumped onto his neck to distract him from behind. I shoved Dudley out of the heap and was attempting to pry my uncle's fingers loose, my fingers were almost enclosed in the letters until Dudley sprang from the ground and began hitting everyone in the head again with his Smelting stick. After much more confused and disoriented fighting, Uncle Vernon shoved Harry and me off of him, gasping for air as he rose with the mangled letters in his big hands.

"You two…bedroom…now. Dudley, just go away, please," he gasped, Aunt Petunia was standing in shock at the kitchen door.

Defeated, Harry and I returned to our rooms.

"This is not working, Harry. Fighting Uncle Vernon is not an option anymore," I sighed as I sulked in my bed once we reached the safety of our bedroom.

Harry nodded in agreement as he paced the room below my bunk.

"We need a way to get those letters without any of the Dursleys noticing. We can't risk ourselves in broad daylight anymore. We'll be caught again."

"Someone knew that we moved up here. The writer of those letters must be keeping track of our whereabouts. Surely they'll keep writing if we don't respond. We need to find out what those letters are saying, and fast."

"Well, we don't have any time to waste. Let's start planning."

And so we got to work. We spent the afternoon and evening creating and improvising a plan to get those letters before the Dursleys did. It was simple, we'll wake up early and wait for the postman to arrive at the corner of the street before the Dusleys woke up. How could that possibly go wrong?

How very wrong I was with that thought.

"Hales, wake up. It's time," Harry whispered to me the next morning, gently shaking me awake. He was already up and dressed.

I sat up, climbed down the ladder, and got dressed while Harry patiently waited outside the room.

When I finished getting ready, I quietly closed our bedroom door behind me and met up with Harry, carefully creeping down the hallway, the Dursleys were all snoring in the rooms besides ours.

"Are you sure they're all asleep?" I whispered, giving our aunt and uncle's closed bedroom a concerned look.

"Yeah, they've been out for the past two hours. They shouldn't wake up for a few more," Harry whispered back.

"And Dudley?" I asked, anxiety brewing in my chest.

"He's out cold, come on." Harry grabbed a hold of my arm and dragging us down the hallway towards the creaky stairs.

"What exactly is this "plan" of yours?" I asked, halfway down.

"I'll go out for the post, and you stay here in case the Dursleys wake up."

"I thought you made sure that they were asleep!" I hissed, stopping dead in my tracks.

"Shut up! They might hear us if–"

Creak.

"Harry! I told you to mind the third step…"

"I lived under these stairs for ten years…don't worry," he muttered. "Look, Hales, one of us needs to stay here to make sure that we don't wake them up. I'll grab the post, you keep watch."

"Fine. So much for this being a genius plan of yours anyway," I grumbled.

He furrowed his eyebrows, and then turned and continued his way downstairs and vanished once he turned the corner.

I huffed and sulkily sat down on the step. Harry, my idiot for a brother, was being the overprotective brother…as he always had been. Never wanting to let his precious little sister get into harm's way. No matter how many times I've been fully capable of being independent and self-reliant, he's always managed a way to take that away.

"ARGGGGGHHHHHH!"

"What the…Harry?!" I sprang to my feet, almost losing my balance from the fright. I rushed down the flight of stairs and turned the corner that was by the front door and I let out a loud gasp as I saw what I was greeted with.

Uncle Vernon was towering over Harry in his pyjamas in the foyer. His face was a fiery purple as he glared down at Harry. Clutched in his hands were a baseball bat and flashlight, a crumpled sleeping bag at his feet – he had camped out by the front door to catch the post.

The lights in the upstairs landing clicked on, and a frightened Aunt Petunia, in her dressing gown, came tumbling downstairs, followed closely behind by a fat Dudley.

"Vernon, what in the hell is going on here?!" she cried, pushing me aside as she rounded the corner.

"ARE YOU MAD, BOY?" he bellowed at Harry, who had turned red from embarrassment and avoided his eyes. "You thought that you could outsmart me, didn't you? Sneaking down here was your smart thought, wasn't it!"

Harry kept his gaze on his feet.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he mumbled.

"That's it! Enough of this nonsense, I'm putting an end to this. These letters will stop arriving and that is final!"

My uncle's yelling match went on for another half hour, accompanied by Dudley, who was snickering viciously. Eventually, Uncle Vernon had had enough. He turned and marched out of the room and into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia, shooting us both a nasty look, rushed behind him to make him a much-needed tea.

Dudley waddled down to me.

"Who'd want to be friends with you so much that they'd want to write to you?" he snarled, before stomping off to play his video games in the living room.

After he left, the mail slot creaked open and the soft piff of letters landed on the floor. Uncle Vernon came dashing out of the kitchen and snatched up the letters, smiling evilly as he saw the six new letters for each of us.

Without feeling like going to breakfast, Harry and I went back upstairs. Once we returned to our bedroom, Harry collapsed onto the side of his bed and I climbed up to retreat to my bunk, my head pounding from the screams of Uncle Vernon.

"Whelp, that failed miserably, huh?" I said dryly, attempting to clear my head with one of the books I had stashed under my mattress I recovered from my old closet.

"I was so stupid," Harry sighed below me. "Of all things, I should've checked that he would've been down there."

I sat up and hung my head over the railing of the bunk, my hair flipping upside down. I eyed Harry, who was still settled at his bedside.

"You look really freaky doing that position," he snarked, in a terrible attempt to distract himself from the whole rescuing-letters-ordeal.

"Wow, thanks," I replied, flipping off the railing and landing on my feet. I sat down beside Harry. "I know it's not my best look. But hey, at least I wasn't camping downstairs like Uncle Vernon waiting for some stupd letters to arrive."

"I guess we'll never find out what's in those letters, now," Harry groaned as he flopped down on his bed.

I couldn't find the words of reassurance to reply.

By Friday, over a dozen letters had arrived in the mail. Uncle Vernon had taken his best drill and sealed the mail slot closed with a wood slab. A very confused mailman had given us a funny look as Aunt Petunia forced him to hand us our mail through the living room window.

However, the letters kept arriving and arriving. On Saturday, Aunt Petunia's blender had magically or strangely become full of them, they were stuffed into the eggshells for breakfast that morning, and about fifty of them had managed their way through the window in the downstairs bathroom. Uncle Vernon had gone mad, continuing to seal off every window, outside door, and crack of the house, including the fireplace, so no more letters would arrive.

Or so, he thought.

It was Sunday morning, and Uncle Vernon had woken up in a happy, cheery mood.

"I love Sundays," he stated at breakfast that day. "No post today!"

Harry and I looked at each miserably and continued to silently chew our toast. Aunt Petunia stared at him darkly. Dudley glared at his failure to learn who was writing to us.

"Not one of those damned, bloody letters is coming today! Peace shall last for all eternity!" he rejoiced.

If "eternity" meant for a total of 30 seconds, then Uncle Vernon's statement was correct.

Suddenly, a loud groan came from the fireplace mantle. The floor began to shake, and the china on Aunt Petunia's shelf began to rattle.

The boarded-up fireplace gave away, and a tide-wave of hundreds of letters came flying into the living room, swarming around us.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley began to scream and ran out of the room, swarming their arms around like lunatics. Uncle Vernon shouted something inaudible and began to grab each letter, ripping off half his moustache during his destruction of the living room.

Harry, beaming widely, jumped onto the coffee table, attempting to catch one for him.

Harry, you dumbass, grab a letter off of the floor! I thought as I ran around the room, snatching as many as possible and only for them to be knocked out of my hands by my uncle as he managed to grab hold of us and shoved us out of the living room, slamming the door behind him in the hall.

"V-Vernon—" Aunt Petunia whimpered as she huddled into a corner, clutching a petrified Dudley.

"THAT DOES IT!" he shouted, his face purple with rage. "We're leaving to where they will not find us! Pack some clothes, five minutes!"