Another Hogwarts Tale

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor had earned Lucy and Harry their longest punishment yet. Though it wasn't Lucy's fault and Harry didn't know what happened there either.  

Lucy was allowed out of the house at least occasionally when Aunt Petunia was dragging the girl to her ballet lessons. She found it boring, but Aunt Petunia always said that she should learn to behave like a real young lady so that she could one day marry someone suitable. 

When the punishment was lifted, the summer holidays had already begun. 

Dudley meanwhile smashed his new video camera and crashed his RC plane. 

On his first ride on a racing bike, he had knocked down old Mrs. Figg, who was crossing Privet Drive, leaning on her crutches. 

The twins where glad school was over, but they could not escape Dudley's gang, who haunted the house day after day. 

Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and dumb, and because Dudley was the biggest and dumbest of them all, he was their leader.  

The others happily joined in Dudley's favourite sport: Harry-hunting. 

They mostly left Lucy alone. Those idiots didn't have much brain, but they did leave girls alone, most of the time.  

Lucy kept Harry company and the two of them spent as much time away from home as possible, wandering the streets. 

The imminent end of the holidays was a small glimmer of hope.  

In September they would be starting secondary school and, for the first time in their lives, not being with Dudley. 

Lucy was very happy about that. She and Harry might finally have real friends then.  

Dudley had a place at Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss also went there.  

Lucy and Harry, on the other hand, would go to Stonewall High School. That was the local comprehensive school in the neighbourhood. 

Dudley thought that was very funny. 

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet first day at Stonewall," he told the twins. 

"Want to come upstairs and practice?"  

"No thanks," said Harry. 

"The poor toilets had never anything as horrible as your head down it - it might make be sick."  

He then grabbed Lucy's arm and ran before Dudley could figure out what Harry said. 

~~  

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his new Smeltings' school uniform, leaving Lucy and Harry with Mrs. Figg.  

Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as she used to be. 

They both found out that she broke her foot tripping over one of their cats, and she did not seem all that thrilled with them anymore. 

She let Lucy and Harry watch TV and handed each of them a piece of chocolate cake that tasted like she had kept it for a few years. 

But Lucy was grateful, nonetheless. They never got a piece of cake at the Dursleys.  

That evening, Dudley strutted around the living room in his new uniform, watched by his parents. 

The boys at Smeltings wore maroon coats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats, which they called 'boasters'.  

They also had gnarled wooden sticks with which they hit each other when the teachers were not looking. 

This was considered good practice for later life. Lucy was glad she did not go to a school where fighting was normal.  

Uncle Vernon eyed Dudley in the new knickers and grumbled something about the proudest moment of his life. 

Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she just couldn't believe that this was her 'Ickle Dudleykins', he looked so handsome and grown up. 

Lucy and Harry did not dare say a word.  

The twins looked at each other, then quickly away to keep from laughing. 

~~ 

The next morning, when Lucy and Harry walked into the kitchen for breakfast, they were met by a terrible smell. 

It came from a large enamel pan in the sink.  

They stepped closer to have a look. 

It appeared to be a bundle of dirty rags was floating in the grey water of the bowl.  

"What's this?" Harry asked Aunt Petunia. 

Her lips tightened, as they always did when one of the twins dared to ask a question. 

"Your new school uniforms," she said. 

Harry took another look in the bowl.  

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet." 

Lucy wondered why Harry could not just shut up.  

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. 

"I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."  

Lucy strongly doubted that. But Lucy thought it better not to argue with her aunt. And Lucy was relieved that Harry was finally quiet. 

She sat down at the table and tried not to think about what she would look like on her first day at Stonewall High - presumably like someone wearing a few scraps of old elephant skin. 

Dudley and Uncle Vernon walked in, both holding their noses at the smell of Lucy and Harry's new uniforms. 

Uncle Vernon, as always, opened his newspaper and Dudley slammed the Smelting stick he always carried on the table. 

They heard the click of the letterbox and flop of letters on the doormat. 

"Get the post, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said from behind his newspaper.  

"Make Harry get it." 

"Get the post, Harry."  

"Make Dudley get it."  

"Poke him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley."  

Lucy sat quietly and spread some blueberry jam on her toast. 

"Hurry up boy!", called Uncle Vernon after a few moments. 

"What are you doing, checking for letter-bombs?" 

He chuckled at his own joke.  

Harry came back into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the letter. 

He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down and gave Lucy a yellow envelope. 

Lucy looked at the letter in surprise. The address was written in green letters. 

Miss L. Potter  

The smallest bedroom  

Privet Drive 4  

Little Whinging  

Surrey  

Uncle Vernon tore open the letter with the bill, snorted in disgust, and scanned the postcard. 

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny welk…" 

"Dad," Dudley said suddenly.  

"Dad, Harry and Lucy have something!" 

Lucy was just unfolding the letter, which was made of the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when Uncle Vernon snatched the sheet from her and her brother's hands. 

"That's ours," Harry yelled, trying to snatch the letter from Uncle Vernon.  

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon. 

He shook the letter open with one hand and began to read. 

His face went from red to green faster than a traffic light.  

And it did not stop at green. 

After a few seconds it was greyish white like old porridge. 

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped out. 

Dudley wanted the letter and tried to grab it, but Uncle Vernon held it up so he couldn't grab it. 

Aunt Petunia picked it up curiously and read the first line. 

For a moment it looked like she might faint. 

She clutched her neck and made a choking noise. 

As if an animal had died on their doorstep. 

"Vernon! Oh my goodness- Vernon!" 

They stared at each other as if they had forgotten that Harry, Lucy and Dudley were still in the kitchen. 

Dudley wasn't used to being ignored as he was always the centre of attention in the house. 

With the smelting stick, he gave his father a short, painful tap on the head. 

"I want to read that letter," he said aloud. 

Lucy rolled her eyes, which would have gotten them into trouble if Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had not been distracted by those mysterious letters. 

"We want to read it," Harry said angrily. 

"They're ours," added Lucy, calmer. 

"Get out, all three of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back into the envelope. 

Lucy and Harry didn't move. 

"WE WANT OUR LETTERS," Harry called out. 

"Let me see it," Dudley demanded. 

"OUT," yelled Uncle Vernon. 

He grabbed Harry and Dudley by the neck, threw them out into the hall, pushed Lucy out the door and slammed the kitchen door behind them.  

Harry and Dudley promptly engaged in a bitter but silent battle over who got to eavesdrop at the keyhole. 

Lucy took advantage of the distraction and listened at the keyhole. 

Her brother and Dudley listened at the crack between the door and the floor. 

"Vernon," said Aunt Petunia, her voice trembling, "look at the address- how could they possibly know where they sleep? You don't think they're watching the house?" 

"Watching- spying- might be following us," murmured Uncle Vernon, wildly. 

The back-haired girl frowned. 

Who would want to spy on the Dursleys? Nothing exciting ever happened in his house. 

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't -"  

Lucy could see Uncle Vernon pacing up and down the kitchen. 

"No," he finally said. 

"No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer… Yes, that's the best… We won't do anything... " 

"But-"  

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them, we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?" 

~~ 

The next morning at breakfast everyone was quite silent. 

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other with a somber expression. 

The post came and Uncle Vernon, trying to be nice to Lucy and Harry, had Dudley get up and get it. 

You could hear him banging his smelting stick this way and that down the hall. 

Then he shouted: 

"It's two again! Mr H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive–" 

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon jumped out of his chair and ran down the hall. 

Lucy and Harry were close behind him. 

Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to wrestle the letter from him.  

Which proved difficult because Harry had jumped onto Uncle Vernon's back.  

Lucy stopped and watched it all. 

After a brief tussle, during which everyone took a few hefty smacks with the smelting stick, Uncle Vernon sat up gasping for breath, holding Lucy and Harry's letter in his hand. 

"Get off to your room," he gasped at Lucy and Harry. 

"Dudley– go– please. Go." 

Upstairs in the room, Harry paced up and down. 

Lucy sat on her bed and looked at her brother 

Someone knew which room they lived in and also that the twins had not received the first letters. 

Surely that meant they would try again… right? 

Lucy could tell from the look on her brother's face that he had already hatched a plan. 

~~ 

At six o'clock the next morning the repaired alarm clock rang.  

Harry silenced it quickly and dressed quietly. 

He had to try not to wake the Dursleys. 

Without turning on the light so that he wouldn't wake his sister, he crept down the stairs. 

He would wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and ask for the letters for number 4 right away. 

With a loud beating heart, he walked down the dark hallway to the front door- 

AAAAAARGH! 

Harry leaped into the air- he had stepped on something gross and squishy that was lying on the doormat- something alive! 

Lights went on and with a terrible shock, Harry realized that the big squishy thing was his uncle's face. 

Uncle Vernon had been lying outside the door in a sleeping bag, precisely to prevent Harry from carrying out his plan. 

He yelled at Harry for about half an hour while Lucy was supposed to make tea. 

When she was done, she stepped back into the hallway. The post had already been posted and was laying in the middle of Uncle Vernon's lap. 

Lucy could make out several letters written in green ink.  

"We want-" Harry began, but Uncle Vernon tore the letters into little shreds in front of their eyes. 

~~ 

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed the letterbox shut. 

"See," he told Aunt Petunia, mouth full of nails, "if they can't deliver them, they'll just give up." 

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon." 

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to hammer in a nail with the piece of fruitcake that Aunt Petunia had just brought him. 

~~ 

At least twelve letters arrived for Lucy and Harry on Friday. 

Because they didn't go through the letterbox, they slipped under the door, wedged between the door and the frame, or forced through the small window of the downstairs toilet. 

Again, Uncle Vernon stayed at home. After burning all the letters, he got a hammer, nail, and ledge and nailed up the cracks in the front and back doors so no one could get out. 

While working he surmounted "Tiptoe through the Tulips" and winced at the slightest noise. 

Things got out of hand on Saturday. 

Twenty-four letters for Lucy and Harry found their way into the house, curled up and hidden inside the two dozen eggs that the bewildered milkman had handed to Aunt Petunia through the living room window. 

While Uncle Vernon was furiously phoning the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia was shredding the letters in her kitchen blender.  

"Who on earth wants to talk to you guys this badly?" Dudley asked the twins, puzzled. 

Lucy wondered the same thing. For years nobody wanted anything to do with her or Harry and now the letters. 

When Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table on Sunday morning, he looked tired and rather weary, but happy. 

"No post on Sundays," he admonished cheerfully as he spread jam on his newspaper, "no damn letters today-" 

As he spoke, something came whistling down the kitchen chimney and hit the back of his head.  

A moment later thirty or forty letters came shooting out of the chimney like bullets. 

The Dursleys ducked for cover, but Harry was hopping around the kitchen trying to catch a letter. 

"Out! Out!" 

Uncle Vernon pushed the twins into the hallway. 

When Aunt Petunia and Dudley ran out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door.  

Lucy was totally confused. Who sent so many letters? What just happened? 

The girl could still hear the letters rustling in and slapping against the walls and floor. 

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon. 

He tried to speak calmly, but at the same time pulled large tufts of hair out of his Mustache. 

"I want you all to be here in five minutes, ready to leave. We're going. Pack some things. And no arguments." 

With only half a Mustache, he looked so dangerous that no one dared say a word. 

~~ 

Ten minutes later, they'd squeezed through the boarded-up doors, sat in the car, and sped off toward the freeway. 

In the back seat, Dudley whimpered to himself. Lucy would have found it amusing if she weren't so frightened and confused by the overall situation. 

Uncle Vernon had smacked Dudley left and right for delaying them trying to pack his TV, VCR, and Computer into his gym bag. 

They drove. 

And they drove. 

Even Aunt Petunia did not dare ask where they were going. 

Every now and then Uncle Vernon would make a sharp U-turn and then drive in the opposite direction for a while. 

"Shake 'em off… shake 'em off," he murmured whenever he changed direction. 

'Shake who off?' Lucy wanted to ask, but she knew better. 

She leaned her head against the window and wondered who Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon could be so afraid of. 

They did not even stop to eat or drink for the entire day. 

As night fell, Dudley was screaming.  

In his whole life he had never had such a dreadful day. 

He was hungry, he'd missed five of his favourite shows on TV, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on the computer. 

But nobody seemed to care. 

Dudley's parents were too busy driving around without knowing where to go. 

And Lucy and Harry definitely didn't feel sorry for him. 

On normal days they were worse off than Dudley is now. 

Finally, Uncle Vernon pulled up in front of a gloomy looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. 

Dudley, Harry, and Lucy shared a room with a double bed, a couch that Lucy slept on and damp musty blankets. 

Dudley snored but Lucy and Harry stayed awake. 

Lucy couldn't fall asleep because of Dudley's snoring. She wasn't used to it. 

The two sat on the windowsill, looked down at the lights of the passing cars and thought for a long time... 

~~ 

The next morning, they had stale cornflakes and cold canned tomatoes on toast for breakfast. 

No sooner had they finished than the owner of the hotel came to their table. 

"Scuse me, but is one of you Mr H. Potter and one Miss L. Potter? Only I got about an 'undered of these at the front desk." 

The owner held up a letter so they could read the address written in green ink: 

Mr. H Potter 

Room 17 

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth 

Harry tried to grab the letter, but Uncle Vernon slapped his hand away. 

The woman stared at him. 

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, getting up quickly and following her out of the dining room. 

~~~~ 

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home?" Aunt Petunia suggested a few hours later in a shy voice. 

But Uncle Vernon did not seem to hear her. 

Neither of them knew exactly what he was looking for. Onkel Vernon drove them into a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off we went. 

The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge and on the top level of a multi-story parking garage. 

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia in a muffled voice late that afternoon. 

Petunia didn't say anything to that, but Lucy had a feeling Dudley was right. 

Uncle Vernon had parked on the seafront, locked them all in the car, and gone. 

It began to rain. Big drops hit the roof of the car. Dudley sniffled. 

"It's Monday," he explained to his mother. 

"The great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television." 

Monday. 

If that's true, and in Dudley's case, he knows TV like the back of his hand, then tomorrow was Lucy's and Harry's and birthday. 

There eleventh birthday. 

The Durley's had never cared much about it before. 

Last year the Dursleys had given them a coat-hanger and a pair of Onkel Vernon's old socks. 

Still, you don't turn eleven every day. 

Uncle Vernon came back with a smile on his face. 

It didn't seem to go away, and Lucy was surprised. 

Smiling is sometimes exhausting and the fact that he kept it up must have been a competitive sport for him. 

He carried a long, narrow package in his hands, but did not answer Aunt Petunia's question about what he had bought. 

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!" 

It was very cold outside. Uncle Vernon pointed out to sea where a large rock could be seen in the distance. 

Perched on top of this rock was the shabbiest little shack imaginable.  

One thing was certain, there was no television there. 

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands. 

"And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" 

A toothless old man limped toward them, and Harry pulled his sister behind him. 

The old man pointed with a rather mischievous grin to an old rowing boat in the iron-grey water below. 

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!" 

It was bitterly cold in the boat. Icy spray and raindrops crept down their backs, and a chill wind lashed their faces. 

After what seemed like hours, they reached the crag, where Uncle Vernon led them, sliding and sliding, to the ramshackle house. 

Inside it looked terrible; it stank of seaweed, the wind howled through the cracks in the wooden walls and the fireplace was wet and empty. 

There were only two rooms. 

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a packet of crackers each and five bananas. 

He tried to make a fire, but the empty cracker boxes just gave out smoke and shriveled up. 

"Now I could use one of those letters for once, folks," he said cheerfully. 

He was in a particularly good mood. 

Apparently, he did not think anyone would stand a chance of reaching them here in the storm and delivering the mail. 

Lucy had the same thought, and she did not like it at all. 

As night fell, the promised storm gathered momentum around them. 

Spray from the high waves splashed against the walls of the hut and an angry wind rattled the dirty windows. 

Aunt Petunia found some eel-scented sheets and made Dudley a bed on the moth-eaten sofa. 

She and Uncle Vernon went to the ragged bed next door. 

Lucy and Harry had to find the softest piece of floor and huddle under the thinnest, most torn blanket. 

The night advanced and the storm blew ever more fiercely. 

Lucy couldn't sleep. 

She was cold and tossing and turning. Harry gave her some more of the blanket. 

Dudley's snores were drowned out by the rolling thunder that picked up at midnight. 

The luminous hands of Dudley's watch, dangling from the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told the twins they would be eleven in ten minutes.  

They lay there and watched as their birthday ticked closer. 

Would the Dursleys even think of her? Lucy wondered. 

Where was the letter writer now? 

Whether he or she knew it was their birthday? 

Five minutes to go. 

The twins heard something cracking outside. 

I hoped the roof wouldn't come down, even if it might make them feel warmer. 

Four minutes to go. 

Maybe by the time they got back the house on Privet Drive would be so full of letters that they would be able to steal one of them one way or another. 

Three minutes to go. 

Was it the sea that hit the rocks so hard? 

And (two minutes to go) what was that weird crunching noise? 

Did the rock break and fall into the sea? 

One minute to go and the two were eleven. 

Thirty seconds...  

Twenty… 

Ten…  

Nine… 

Maybe they should wake up Dudley just to annoy him.  

Three…  

Two… 

One 

BOOM. 

The whole hut shook. 

Suddenly Lucy sat bolt upright and stared at the door. 

There was a knocking.