Chapter Text
Mr and Mrs Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were completely normal.
Mr Dursley was a large, beefy man without a neck as his face consumed majority of the available space. Tiny, beady, black eyes protruded between his cheeks and a bristly, caterpillar-like moustache grew over his upper lip. He thought of himself as an important man. Always in meetings and on the phone talking to partners. Being the director of a drill company wasn’t easy; Grunnings was his career and life. His wife, Mrs. Dursley was a tall, thin woman with long hair that twirled around her horse-like face. Her head balanced on her thin neck that she used to snoop and spy on the neighbours. They had a son named, Dudley. He was the centre of Mr and Mrs Dursley’s universe and everything revolved around him.
The Dursley’s lived in a crowded suburban area; houses built door to door with completely identical faces. A dull, pale brick house with a dark brown roof and curtained windows that stopped the other neighbours from looking in. Everything was completely normal, the way the Dursley’s liked it. But there was one thing, however, the Dursley’s did not like one bit. Something so un-Dursley-ish that they tried their best to hide it.
Harry Potter lived at Privet Drive, but from a glance inside the house you would not have known. The walls were covered in photos of Dudley with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon smiling at him proudly. In the nearly ten years Harry had been living in his Aunt and Uncles house, they never once took a photo of him.
Harry could hear Dudley stomping around in his room, causing Harry’s room to tremble with each step. Harry Potter lived in the cupboard under the stairs. A small broom closet that he’d lived in ever since he could remember. It was comfortable for Harry, to be submerged in darkness and being inside a small space, it meant that no one could get to him. Especially if the door was locked. The door wasn’t locked because Harry did so himself, it was because Uncle Vernon had bolted his door shut with approximately seven locks.
Harry sighed, rolling over in his bed, annoyance building inside him. It had been a month since the accident at the zoo and Harry was still on the longest punishment the Dursley’s had given him. The Dursley’s had gone to the zoo for Dudley’s birthday and Harry was dragged along because Mrs Figg wasn’t able to baby-sit him. Harry had somehow managed to speak to a snake and lock his cousin Dudley behind the glass, simultaneously letting the Boa Constrictor out of its exhibit. Harry always got punished for doing things he couldn’t explain; like growing his hair back after a bad haircut by Aunt Petunia and ending up on the roof of his school after Dudley and his friends chased after Harry.
Uncle Vernon had dragged Harry by the ear and thrown him inside his cupboard which is where he had been for an entire month. He’d been let out twice a day to use the bathroom and was fed cold soup through the flap in his door. It was when Harry began to be lulled back into sleep, a swishing of chains and clicking of locks woke him back up.
“Up.”
Harry turned around at the sound of Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice.
The clasp on the door was slammed down before the quick stomps of Petunia Dursley’s feet paced away from his room. Harry blinked rapidly before reaching for his glasses and unfolding them across his face.
“Now!” she screeched.
“Coming, Aunt Petunia!” Harry yelled back.
It was brighter than Harry expected, his eyes screwed shut as he walked towards the living room. Uncle Vernon and Dudley sat at the table while Aunt Petunia washed the dishes, a dry slice of toast sitting on a floral plate sat in front of Harry’s usual spot. He munched on it quietly, ignoring Dudley’s consistent banging of his Smeltings stick; which he supposedly needed for school. The flap in the door flicked open and Harry could hear the letters drop on the mat. Uncle Vernon looked up from the Daily Mail sharply, his face a light red as it wobbled.
“Get the mail, Dudley.”
Dudley looked appalled. “Make Harry get it.”
“Get the mail, Harry.”
“Make Dudley get it.” Harry retorted.
“Poke him with your stick, Dudley.”
Dudley tried to poke Harry but he swiftly moved to the right and watched as Dudley looked astounded. He walked around the table to only be met with the Smeltings stick colliding with the back of Harry’s head with a loud thud. Harry looked at a proud Uncle Vernon and a smirking Dudley before walking quickly past Aunt Petunia who purposefully looked the other direction. Rubbing his head Harry collected the letters, shuffling through them until he landed on a thick envelope with bright emerald-green writing.
Mr H. Potter,
The Cupboard Under The Stairs,
4 Privet Drive , Little Whinging,
Surry.
Harry stared at the yellowing envelope, turning it over to find a stamp. He was met with a dark red wax seal, stamped with a coat of arms that had a lion, eagle, badger and a snake surrounding the letter H.
“Hurry up boy! We don’t have all day!” Uncle Vernon shouted.
Harry was pulled out of his thoughts as if someone had yanked a dogs chain. Trembling, Harry walked back to the Dursley’s and placed the letters in front of his uncle.
“Oh, Marge is ill!” Uncle Vernon cried after a few moments of silence. He had placed the paper down and read a postcard.
Harry, however, wasn’t paying attention to Dudley who had been watching closely to what he was doing. Harry began to peel the wax seal away from the envelope, wondering what could be inside. Moving as quick as he could with fat, stumpy legs; Dudley hit Harry in the stomach with the stick and snatched the letter out of his hand.
“Harry’s got a letter!”
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon turned their attention to Dudley who was to the side of a kneeling Harry.
“Give it back! It’s mine!” Harry called out, holding his stomach.
“Yours?” Uncle Vernon snorted. “Who would be writing to you?”
Dudley handed his father the letter who instantly paled. His red face turning a ghastly shade of grey.
“Petunia!” Uncle Vernon all but shrieked. She pretended to be surprised but trotted over as quickly as possible. She peered over his shoulder at the letter and she too paled.
Dudley tried to look over at Harry’s letter but Uncle Vernon held it out of reach.
“I want to look at it!” Dudley shouted, smacking his stick on the floor.
”I think I should be allowed to,” Harry said as politely as possible. “It is my letter.”
“Why should Harry be allowed to see it and I can’t!” Dudley cried.
“Boys! Go to your rooms!” Uncle Vernon shouted over the top of Dudley, who now was acting as though he were melting into the carpet.
“But it’s my letter!” Harry yelled back.
Uncle Vernon stood and pointed to the living room doorway. “Out!”
Dudley’s tantrum grew and he struck his Smeltings stick into Uncle Vernon’s foot as Harry tried to reach for the letter clasped in his uncle’s grubby hand. Uncle Vernon grunted in pain and struck Harry with his fat hand. Harry walked back in shock, holding his sweltering cheek that was thumping under his hand. Aunt Petunia looked between Harry and Uncle Vernon in shock, whilst Dudley stared at the scene flabbergasted. Uncle Vernon stared at Harry fixed with anger and confusion, his face a deep purple as he shook his head.
"Go to your rooms." he puffed. "And stay there till dinner."
Over the next few days, Harry Potter had received more letters than he had in his entire life. No matter how hard he tried, Uncle Vernon always got to them before he could. The letters were appearing everywhere and as fast as they arrived Uncle Vernon had burnt them. He'd even nailed the flap shut. They were sitting around the kitchen table, the Dursley's eating pancakes and Harry eating dry, stale bread when Uncle Vernon cleared his throat.
"No posts on Sundays" he said cheerfully, spreading butter across his newspaper and pouring milk over his breakfast instead of in his coffee.
Harry looked at his uncle, upset that it had been four days of receiving the letters and he hadn't got one. It was impossible for harry to get his tiny hands on them but at that exact moment something flew down the chimney and hit Uncle Vernon in the back of the head. The Dursley's all turned around to see what had landed on the floor. It was another letter. Harry and Uncle Vernon stared at each other but another letter raced down the chimney, followed by another. Then, all at once, thirty to forty letters came flowing out of the fireplace, ricocheting of the floor and walls. Aunt Petunia shrieked a high-pitched squeal and Dudley fell out of his chair onto the floor. Harry jumped out of his seat and reached for a letter but Uncle Vernon slapped his hand out of the way and wrapped his arms around Harry's torso. He was thrown into the hallway but was followed by a wild looking Aunt Petunia and a tired Dudley.
"That's it!" Uncle Vernon roared from the living room. "We're leaving!"
It had been over twenty four-hours and Uncle Vernon was driving further and further away from Privet Drive, much to Dudley's disappointment. He'd been winging about missing his third favourite television show which told Harry it was Monday. Harry smiled inwardly, tomorrow was his eleventh birthday. They had finally reached a stormy beach when Uncle Vernon told everyone to wait in the car and Harry sat impatiently waiting.
"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked skeptically.
Aunt Petunia didn't agree or disagree, she chose to ignore her son because for once, she didn't have an answer.
It turned out that Uncle Vernon had rented a room out in the middle of the ocean, a large hut that sat on a rock among the violent sea. the Dursley's had gone to bed and Harry was sharing the living room with Dudley who was wrapped up in four blankets. Harry, who was to sleep on the floor, had a sleeping bag. He thought about who was trying to write to him, they must be pretty desperate if they're sending that many letters; even sending a hundred envelopes to the hotel they stayed at in Cokeworth last night. He wondered what was in these letters and why Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't want him to read it. Harry checked Dudley's watch. Five more minutes. Harry listened to the busy ocean and the thundering storm, the breeze lightly rocking the entire hut as it swayed in unison. Four minutes. Harry could hear the thunder getting closer, as if it were creeping up on his birthday. Three minutes. The storm seemed to be on top of them, the rain pelting against the tin roof that was clanging back in annoyance as the thunder became furious. Two minutes. Harry began to get worried, the entire hut was trembling and a continuous roll of thunder was towering over him. One minute. There was a loud, tremendous bang on the door and Harry shot up in fear. The door rattled again but this time the Dursley's came running down the stairs from their room, Uncle Vernon holding a gun of some sort while Dudley jumped up from the lounge he'd been sleeping on and ran to the back of the room. Thirty seconds. Another loud crash rocked the hut on the rock as the door tumbled to the ground puffing up dirt and dust, clouding the entire room in what looked like fog to Harry. But when it cleared enough for Harry to see, there was a dark, hunched figure in the entrance. Completely filling up the doorway. Everything went silent for one moment as Dudley's watch beeped to let Harry know it was midnight on the 31st of July.