Chapter 4
With newfound certainty that the contents of the books were real, Harry began making a list.
First on the list: Voldemort and his Horcruxes.
Thanks to the books, Harry knew their locations, but that didn’t help much given the fact that he was one of them. Dumbledore had said the only way to destroy the Horcrux inside him was through his death, but Harry couldn’t accept that solution. What if this time he didn’t come back? Even if he did survive, the mere thought of returning to that eerie, limbo-like train station filled him with dread.
He noted: Find another way to get rid of the Horcrux inside him.
Nothing in the books hinted at an alternative, and Harry doubted he’d find an answer in the Hogwarts library, even in the Restricted Section. But there was one thing Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon: you didn’t always have to do things yourself. Vernon often bragged how he delegated tasks to his employees. So what if he finds someone to help?
His first thought was Professor Dumbledore. In the books, Dumbledore appeared to be a powerful wizard who seemed to know everything. But Dumbledore was also the one who believed that Harry’s death was the only solution. He had seen it in Snape’s memories...
No, this wasn’t the time to dwell on that. If not Dumbledore, who else could Harry trust?
Ron and Hermione—his future best friends—would no doubt want to help him, but Harry knew he needed an adult, someone whose plan didn’t hinge on his death. Someone who was more transparent and willing to let Harry in on the truth.
That someone was Sirius Black.
Sirius had been the only one who seemed eager to tell Harry the truth when everyone else preferred to keep him in the dark. Sirius was the closest thing Harry had to family… and if Harry could clear Sirius’s name, they could live together. Sirius had even suggested it after their first meeting.
No more Dursleys.
Harry would finally have a home—a real home—with someone who cared about him.
But there was more at stake than just clearing Sirius’s name. Harry needed Sirius to help him navigate the magical world and find a way to destroy the Horcrux inside him without dying. Sirius, unlike Dumbledore, seemed willing to take risks for Harry, to fight alongside him rather than keep secrets.
Harry’s mind raced as he scribbled in his notebook. Step one would be freeing Sirius from Azkaban and proving his innocence. Harry knew from the books that the key to this lay with Peter Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed his parents and who was hiding as Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers.
But would catching Peter Pettigrew early really help Harry? The books had clearly stated that the testimonies of Ron, Hermione, and himself weren’t enough to convince the authorities. No one wanted to believe the words of children. Harry wasn’t surprised by that—after all, no one at school had ever believed him about the Dursleys either. All it had earned him was a reputation as a liar.
If the testimonies of children weren’t enough, he would need an adult to back him up.
Harry pondered over this for days, thinking of all the possibilities. He needed someone powerful enough to sway the wizarding world—someone whose word carried weight. Sirius couldn’t do it, not until he was free. Dumbledore might be his best option, but trusting him with the whole truth felt dangerous.
No, he would need to find another way. Perhaps he could provide evidence that couldn’t be ignored—something undeniable.
….
With each passing day, Harry’s plans became clearer, and he worked on refining every detail. He had already mapped out the events from the first book, noting every important moment. Finally, the day arrived that Harry had marked as the beginning of the events in the story.
Dudley’s birthday.
Harry had barely slept the night before, his mind buzzing with excitement and anticipation. He spent hours going over everything he had memorized from the first book—every detail, every conversation.
Today was meant to be a test—the final test to confirm that the books were telling the truth and really predicting his future. It was also a trial to see if Harry could recreate the events described in them. He had a few doubts, especially about the disappearing glass at the zoo. In the books, Harry hadn’t planned for the glass to vanish, but now, knowing it might happen, could he somehow make it happen again?
For the past few days, Harry had tried to make a pencil disappear, but all he had managed to do was make it levitate. Thankfully, it stopped floating before Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon could notice.
When he finally heard Aunt Petunia’s sharp voice screech, "Up! Get up! Enough of that lying about!" Harry was already prepared.
This was it. Time to see if, despite knowing what was going to happen, he could still follow the events of the book.
Surprisingly, it all went rather smoothly. Just as in the book, Mrs. Figg wasn’t able to take care of him because of her broken leg, forcing the Dursleys to bring him along to the zoo. Dudley was furious, of course, but there was nothing they could do about it.
In the car, Harry, just like the book had said, casually mentioned the flying motorbike—this time knowing it belonged to Sirius. Uncle Vernon grumbled in the same way, dismissing it as nonsense, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a strange thrill. He was following the story almost exactly as it was written.
The day unfolded with eerie accuracy. The snake at the reptile house had nodded in a friendly way, the glass vanished, and Dudley fell into the enclosure, screaming. Before long, Harry found himself locked back in the cupboard under the stairs, just like in the book.
But this time, things were different. If everything went according to plan, this would be the last summer Harry would ever have to spend with the Dursleys.
…
They say time passes more slowly when you’re waiting for something important, and Harry could confirm that this was true. Every day that brought him closer to receiving his Hogwarts letter seemed to stretch on endlessly. But finally, the day arrived—the day when, according to Harry’s calculations, the first letter was supposed to arrive.
That morning, Uncle Vernon had ordered him to fetch the mail, and Harry, knowing what was coming, didn’t protest at all. He practically flew to the front door, his heart hammering in his chest.
There it was. Exactly as described in the book: thick parchment, the emerald-green ink, the beautiful Hogwarts seal, and—most importantly—the precise address, The Cupboard Under the Stairs.
For a moment, Harry’s knees felt weak. He had been expecting this day for months, but now, holding the letter in his hands, he realized it was his first real connection to the magical world beyond the history book he’d found at Mrs. Figg’s. The letter made it all real.
For a brief moment, he hesitated. The letter belonged to him. This was his moment. A wave of defiance washed over him—he wanted to tear it open, to read it right there on the spot and finally know for certain that he was meant to be part of that world.
But Uncle Vernon’s booming voice broke his thoughts. "Hurry up, boy!"
Reality crashed back in. He needed to stay patient for just a few more days.
Dragging his feet, Harry made his way back to the kitchen, letter in hand. He’d play along, reenact the scene from the book. His time was coming soon—just a little longer now.
Harry shuffled back into the kitchen, clutching the letter in his hands. He knew exactly what would happen next. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would react the same way they had in the book—disbelief turning into panic. But this time, as he stood there with the letter, Harry understood why they were so desperate to keep it from him. All their secrecy, their hatred toward him, their constant attempts to squash him down—it all made sense now. They knew this day was coming. They knew he was different, and that terrified them.
"What's taking so long, boy? Hand it over!" Uncle Vernon snapped, holding out his hand impatiently, not even glancing up from his breakfast.
For a brief moment, Harry wanted to refuse, to tear open the letter and claim it as his own. After all, it was his. This was the first real contact he had with the magical world, the first undeniable proof that everything in the books was true. But no—he knew better. He had to follow the plan, at least for now. He still needed a few more days to make sure everything unfolded as it had in the books.
So, with an inward sigh, Harry handed the letter to Uncle Vernon, feeling a surge of frustration but keeping his face neutral.
Uncle Vernon tore open the envelope, his eyes quickly scanning the parchment. The moment the words "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" registered in his mind, Harry saw the familiar shift in his uncle’s expression. The blood drained from his face, leaving it pale and tight with barely contained rage and fear.
“P P -Petunia!" Vernon bellowed, waving the letter in his hand. Petunia appeared in the kitchen doorway, her face as pale as Harry remembered it being in the books. She didn’t even need to look at the letter to know what it was.
Harry watched it all unfold, understanding now what had only confused him before. In the books, he hadn’t realized why they were so afraid, why the mere mention of magic made them panic. But now he knew. They had always known the truth—about him, about his parents, about the world they tried so hard to keep him from. And they had done everything in their power to prevent this moment from happening.
So Harry played along and acted out what he read in the book but with a new understanding.
…
The next few days were tense, just as Harry remembered from the books. The letters kept coming, no matter how hard Uncle Vernon tried to stop them. First, they slipped through the mail slot; then, they appeared inside the eggs Aunt Petunia ordered. Finally, they started pouring through every crack in the house. It was relentless.
Harry couldn’t help but notice Vernon’s growing paranoia. Hour by hour, the man became more desperate, nailing up every possible opening, sealing off the mail box, and even stuffing towels under the doors. But the letters continued to find their way in, and Harry knew they would—just as they had in the books.
Yet, this time, there was something else nagging at Harry’s mind. The letters were persistent, sure, but why hadn't anyone from Hogwarts shown up in person yet? He remembered how, in the books, Dumbledore had personally visited Tom Riddle when he received his Hogwarts letter.
Why wasn’t the same happening for him? Why just the endless flood of letters?
The thought left Harry uneasy. Maybe Hogwarts expected him to respond first? But how could they expect that when the Dursleys were keeping the letters from him?
As they drove away from Privet Drive, Harry mulled over the difference between his situation and Tom Riddle's. Could it be that they were waiting for a specific moment, something more dramatic, before sending someone? After all, in the books, Hagrid only came when the Dursleys had gone to extreme lengths to isolate Harry, dragging him to the hut on the rock.
Maybe that was the key. Maybe Hogwarts knew the Dursleys too well—knew they’d never willingly allow him to read the letter. Harry felt a surge of hope. Perhaps they had planned all along for Hagrid to come, knowing that the Dursleys would never back down until they were pushed to their limit. It was a game of patience, and the letters were a way of wearing the Dursleys down.
Still, the flood of letters didn’t sit right with him. Why send so many? Why not just one person, like Dumbledore had done for Tom? Harry knew he wasn’t exactly the same as Tom Riddle, but it was odd that no one had come yet.
By the time Uncle Vernon dragged them all to a run-down hotel in the middle of nowhere, Harry’s thoughts were still racing. Everything was happening exactly as it had in the books, yet with this new perspective, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was this part of Dumbledore’s plan? Were they testing him? Or maybe testing the Dursleys to see how far they would go to stop him from entering the magical world?
Finally, they arrived at the tiny hut on the rock, surrounded by crashing waves and howling winds. It was cold, miserable, and isolated—exactly the kind of place Vernon would think was far enough to escape the letters.
Harry knew this was the Dursleys’ last, desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable. But there was no escaping what was coming next. He knew, just as the books had told him, that Hagrid would arrive soon.
But this time, he couldn’t help but wonder why it had taken this long. Was it all part of a test? And if so, what they were waiting to see?