A month passed in a flash. The mysterious "vanishing glass incident" at the reptile house, of course, was blamed on Harry, as strange things had been happening around him his whole life. To be fair, it wasn't a stretch, since Harry was the reason for it.
The Dursleys' punishment for Harry was the most severe they could think of: for one week, he was forbidden from eating bacon, stripped of his right to drink soda, and only allowed to have fried fish and chips.
Harry's face fell, and he looked utterly miserable. Fried fish and chips weren't actually that bad—the first time he had them, they were quite tasty. But... whenever Petunia was too lazy to cook, she would serve up the same meal. After a while, you couldn't stand the sight of it. The mushy, flavorless cod, frozen for too long, combined with dry, limp chips, made for a truly awful meal. Harry recalled that he couldn't find a moment of happiness that entire week.
One day in July, Harry was helping Petunia with the housework.
"Dursley! Your post!" a mail carrier's voice called from outside. The sound of the letterbox clattered, and the mail didn't even make it inside, scattering instead on the welcome mat by the front door.
Vernon was sprawled on the sofa reading the paper and happened to see Dudley, who had just finished his morning workout and a shower.
"Dudley, get the mail."
"Right." Dudley walked to the door and picked up the three letters. One was a postcard from Aunt Marge, who was traveling. Another was a bill, the electricity one, it looked like. The last one was addressed to Harry Potter. The writing was in emerald-green ink, with no stamp. On the back of the envelope was a wax seal, a shield with a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter 'H.'
It was bound to happen.
Dudley carefully checked the mailbox, making sure there wasn't one for him. A strange sense of disappointment washed over him when he saw there wasn't. He handed the bill and postcard to Vernon.
"Oh, good heavens. Marge is ill," Vernon said to Petunia. "A bad oil-rigging accident..." He then tore open the bill with a disgusted grunt. No one likes bills. Vernon's eyes then fell on the last letter in Dudley's hand.
"Dudley, is that for you? What strange material—parchment? Who uses that anymore?"
"It's Harry's." Dudley waved the recipient's name in front of Vernon.
At that, the house fell completely silent. The sound of a pin dropping would have been deafening. Vernon, Petunia, and Harry all stared at Dudley and the letter in his hand.
Who would be writing to Harry? The Dursleys were completely bewildered, and Harry was just as confused.
Yeah, who would be writing to me?
Vernon snatched the letter from Dudley's hand and tore it open. Harry didn't mind; he just wanted to know what was inside, so he leaned over to look. Vernon read only the first line, and his face instantly turned from red to green faster than a traffic light. Within seconds, it was as grey as oatmeal.
"Pe-Pe-Petunia, it's them!" The words seemed to take every bit of strength he had.
Harry hadn't even gotten a good look at it before the letter was in Petunia's hand. She, too, read only the first line before clutching her forehead and swaying, looking as if she were about to faint. She grabbed her throat and choked, as if struggling for breath. Harry was even more curious now; he had never seen his aunt make an expression like that.
"Aunt Petunia, what does it say?"
Harry tried to get a closer look, but Petunia snatched the letter away. "This is not for a child to know." Dudley could tell she was trying to control herself, trying not to fall apart.
"Vernon and I have some things to discuss. You two go upstairs to your rooms."
"Okay, Aunt," Harry said, acting like a perfect angel.
"D-bro, do you know what's going on?" As soon as they were in the room, Harry immediately asked Dudley. After spending so much time with him, Harry was much more mature than he seemed. He knew it was better to ask his big cousin than to get any answers from Petunia or Vernon.
Dudley patted Harry's head, his voice sounding like he was saying goodbye. "Harry, you might not be going to the same secondary school as me."
"Why?!" Harry's voice rose in pitch, then he realized something and asked anxiously, "Is it because of that letter?"
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia's trembling voice called from outside the door, "what are we going to do? Should we write them back? Tell them we don't want... We've finally started to think of him as our own son."
"Petunia, I will not let them take anyone. When we brought him in, we swore we would cut all ties with that sort of thing, didn't we?"
"..."
Dudley heard Petunia's sobs and Vernon's angry shouts. He had always known this day would come, and he thought his parents were prepared. But when it actually happened, their reaction was much stronger than he had anticipated.
Because of one letter, the Dursley household was in chaos. Even Harry, who didn't fully understand, knew that something big was about to happen and that his life might be about to change forever.
In the end, Petunia and Vernon burned the letter, hoping that ignoring it would stop everything from happening. But Dudley knew this was just the beginning.
The next morning, the alarm clock went off at six o'clock sharp. Dudley, who believed the early bird gets the worm, got out of bed and started his daily workout. First, a simple warm-up, stretching out his body. Then, one-handed push-ups, dumbbells, and resistance bands. Just as he was finishing, the mail carrier arrived right on time.
"Dursley, your post."
It was the same emerald-green ink as before, and it was addressed to Harry again. But this time, it wasn't one letter; it was three. Vernon, who had rushed to the door, tore all three letters to shreds right in front of Harry. Harry showed no reaction, no sign of curiosity. He knew these letters would separate him from Dudley, and he wanted to go to Smeltings with him.
That day, Vernon hammered the letter slot shut.
The next day, six letters...
The day after, twelve...
From the second day on, the number of letters doubled every day. Until Sunday.
"There's no post on Sunday, and there won't be any of those blasted letters," Vernon said happily.
As soon as he said it, something went whoosh down the chimney and hit him hard on the back of his head. Then, a countless number of letters shot out of the fireplace like bullets, instantly filling the entire room. This time, it wasn't the post carrier delivering them; it was owls. The Dursleys' yard was now filled with owls.
Looking at the mountain of letters piled up in the room, Dudley was completely unfazed. I guess Hogwarts wasn't meant to be for me.
At Vernon's command, Dudley began throwing the piles of letters into the burning fireplace. Suddenly, in his peripheral vision, Dudley caught sight of a letter that made his heart leap. He reached into the roaring fire to grab it, but the flames were too hot. By the time he pulled it out, most of it had been burned away. The recipient's name was completely illegible, but Dudley could just make out that it didn't start with an 'H' for Harry; it started with a large 'D.'
Could this be my letter?!