The Letters
Despite my protests, The Brazilian Boa Constrictor incident got Harry locked in that cabinet longer than he'd ever been. During that time, I would still do whatever I could to make it seem less torturous. I'd talk to him through the door when I was sure no one was around, sneak him some extra snacks, and even help him study at some points.
By the time Harry was let out, the summer holidays had begun, and as I predicted, most of Dudley's shiny new toys were broken. Most of my stuff remained intact, except for the sketchbook, which was full within a month.
I'm happy for the school year to be over, but that means my idiot brother's gang of idiots hang out at the house. And what's their favorite game? Harry Hunting. That means when Harry's not doing random chores, and I'm not at ballet class, Harry and I are in my room working our way through World 4 like I said we would months ago.
I could tell, though, Harry's head was elsewhere.
"Chin up, Cous," I said as Harry absent-mindedly walked Mario to his death. "As soon as the summer holiday ends, we'll finally go to a different school than Dudley."
Dudley had been accepted into Dad's old private school, Smeltings. I also took the entrance exam for that school, but I failed it on purpose. That meant I would join Harry at Stonewall High, the public school. Like hell, I would attend a school that actively encourages its students to beat each other up. Seriously, part of the school uniform is a stick for beating up other students.
This particular day, Harry was in my room because of something Dudley had said. He told Harry that at Stonewall, they stuff people's heads down the toilet on the first day, then he asked Harry if he wanted to practice upstairs.
I was about to intervene, but Harry responded with, "No Thanks. The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down in -- it might get sick."
The moment we got to my room, I struggled to congratulate him for a solid five minutes as I could not stop laughing. That had to be the most perfect burn. Holy Crap!
Mid-July, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and I go to London to buy him his Smeltings Uniform and my Stonewall Uniform.
That evening Dudley proudly paraded around the living room wearing his new uniform and brandishing his new classmate beating stick. Is it even possible to think up a worse combination than Dudley and Long Stick?
The following day, there's a horrible smell in the kitchen as Aunt Petunia is dying some of Dudley's old clothes grey. Of course, that would be Harry's uniform.
Dad and Dudley come in, wrinkling their nose at the smell. Dad opens his newspaper and Dudley bangs his stick against the table. If he does that one more time, I might have to take that stick from him.
Just then, we hear the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
"Make Harry get it."
"Get the mail, Harry."
"Make Dudley get it."
"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
"For Goodness Sake" I interject "I'll get the mail."
I pick up three things: A postcard from Aunt Marge, a brown envelope (likely, a bill), and...what's this? Twos Letters, the one on top for...Oh my...
"Harry..." I call as I re-enter the kitchen, placing down the other mail "Harry, take a look at this." I say as I hold the envelope up to him. On the envelope in clear writing it reads:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard Under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
On the other side of the envelope is purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
Before Harry is about to accept the letter, Dad furiously snatches both letters from my hands. (I don't even know who the second letter is for 😢)
"That's mine" Harry shouts.
"Who'd be writing to you?" my dad sneers as he opens the letter. It must've been real bad, because the next few seconds, I see him turn pale white.
Next, mom takes a look at the letter and she takes it even worse than dad, cause I swear she looks as though she's about to pass out.
Me, Dudley, and Harry all exchange looks. DUDLEY, of all people, is curious about this letter. So much so that he sharply taps dad on the head with the smelting stick, demanding to read the letter.
"I want to read it" says Harry furiously "as it's mine."
"Surely whatever's written on that letter can't be that bad." I chime in "What's it say?"
"Get out, all of you." Dad croaks, as he hastily stuffs the letter back into the envelope.
But none of us move, we just keep demanding to see the letter.
"OUT!" He roars.
I get picture. I turn to the two boys, "let's go, you two."
I usher both him and Harry out of the room before closing the door behind us. Immediately after, they begin fighting over who gets to listen through the key hole before I loudly clear my throat and shoot them the death glare.
The three of us crouch down so that we're each on a different level with our ears pressed up against the door
"Vernon," mom says in a quivering voice, "look at the address — how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"
"Watching — spying — might be following us," dad mutters wildly.
"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want —"
"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything..."
"But —"
"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Let alone two. Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that nonsense? And now it's even spread to our daughter."
Later in the evening, Harry and I are working the final level in World 4.
"We have to get my letter" Harry says, "I have to know who would be writing to me."
"I'm curious too. And I never even got to see who that second letter was addressed to."
"But remember what Aunt Petunia said?" Harry points out "It's even spread to our daughter."
"You don't think..."
Harry nods.
"If that's the case, why would dad take my letter as well? With yours, I get why, but mine too?"
Just then, dad stops by my room.
"Where are the letters?" Harry says, "Who's writing to me?"
"No one. The letters were addressed here by mistake, I have burned them."
"It was not a mistake!" Harry raises his voice "it had my cupboard on it."
Dad looks as though he's about to yell, but then he remembers I'm in the room and promptly restrains himself, forcing his face into a very fake smile.
"Er — yes, Harry — about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it."
"I've been saying that for years. Does this mean, Harry's getting my room and I'm moving?"
"Of course not, Violet. we were thinking Harry moved into Dudley's second bedroom."
"Why?" Harry asks.
"Don't ask questions!" Dad snaps. "Gather your things and bring them upstairs, now."
It only takes one trip for Harry to bring his things up to his new room. A few minutes later, he tells me to come in.
"Knock Knock." I jokingly say, and then a second later Harry opens the door for me.
As I enter the room, I look around at all the broken, barely functioning toys that Dudley once owned.
"First thing tomorrow, we're throwing out all this junk. We'll do a little cleaning, really make this room yours." I say, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe, if another letter comes for you, it'll scare my parents into getting you a new TV."
Harry barely moves from his lying position, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Sorry, that was a bad joke...Look, I'm upset about my dad burning the letters too, but is there really anything more we can do about it? The letter's gone, and that's that. At least we tried."
From downstairs, we both hear Dudley bawling to mom "I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out..."
"I'm gonna let you get some rest. Hopefully, Dudley won't keep this up all night."
Next Morning, Dudley is still keeping it up. He's trying everything in his "book" of tactics. Screaming, Hitting dad with the smelting stick, kicking mom, being sick on purpose, even throwing his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, but still he doesn't get his second room back.
As soon as the mail arrives, surprisingly dad makes Dudley get the mail, which he does very begrudgingly (and destructively, I might add).
A minute or two later we hear Dudley shout "There's more letters! Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive."
Dad then leaps from his seat, with both me and Harry racing him to get the letters first. Dad practically wrestles Dudley to the ground as Harry grabs his neck from behind, and I try worming my way under dad's arm. After a minute of confused fighting, the second letter drops as Vernon snatches both letters, but not before I catch a glimse of who it's addressed to:
Miss V. Dursley
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
I knew that other letter had to be for me. I look at my dad in shock and disbelief, as he Harry to his room. A few minutes later, I come up to Harry's new room with a trash bag to help clean it out (as I suggested last night). In doing so, Harry and I agree to get up right before the post arrives and get those letters first. Down the hall, Dudley is heard sulking. Time to deal with this now.