Chapter Four
The month of July was always hard for Harry. For one, Dudley's birthday was soon and Dudley was always spoiled rotten during his birthday, he was allowed free rein of the house and this included bullying Harry in the full knowledge of his mother and father. All Harry could do was stay far away from Dudley or any member of his gang. Dudley's gang was somewhat distant with Harry since March, but it didn't stop them from being at Dudley's side as he bullied and tormented Harry and other children. Harry had not felt what he called his "other sense" in a few weeks, and was worried that whatever it was was gone.
Another reason Harry never looked forward to July was because it was his birthday. His birthdays always went unnoticed by anyone but himself. He never received any presents or any birthday cards. He'd never admit it, but he was secretly jealous of the attention that Dudley received on his birthday. He found himself wishing that he could have just one last birthday with his parents. One last day, just so he could get to know them a bit more.
On the day of Dudley's birthday, Harry was sent to Mrs. Figg's cabbage smelling house. She was actually quite nice that day. She kept asking him how he was and offering him stale cake. She let Harry watch the television which was virtually impossible at the Dursley's considering Dudley. Harry spent a lot of his time helping Mrs. Figg maneuver around the house as she had sprained her ankle, tripping over one of her cats. He showed her how to use her crutches properly. In fact they had a lot of fun attempting to walk up the stairs.
The day after Dudley's birthday, something very strange happened to Harry, he received mail. At first Harry assumed it was from Mr. Kravitov so he decided he wouldn't let the Dursley's see it. He picked up the remaining post, a bill and a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister who was holidaying in the Isle of Wight. On his way back into the kitchen he quickly opened the door of his cupboard and furtively threw the letter inside, unfortunately the kitchen door was open and Aunt Petunia saw the letter. She gave an audible gasp and then an alarming shriek. Uncle Vernon then thundered his way down the hall, grabbed Harry by the end of his messy black hair and threw him into the living room. He then continued to search Harry's cupboard and after retrieving the letter made of yellowish parchment he examined it front and back.
"It's the same," Aunt Petunia whispered. "It must be them, look at the address, I mean they even know where he sleeps. It must be them. Oh what are we going to do!" she whispered dramatically.
Harry was completely baffled about the commotion the letter had caused, but he really wanted to read it so he gathered up his courage and strode forward into the hall. "I want my letter, its mine, not yours, it has nothing to do with y…" but Harry was cut off as Uncle Vernon hit him viciously, which sent Harry tumbling into the living room. Uncle Vernon then locked the living room door and returned to the kitchen. "Dudley, go to your room. NOW!" Dudley would have protested but the look that his father gave him was so full of fury that Dudley left, grateful to be out of the presence of his mad father.
"We are not going to do anything, we'll ignore them. They'll go away as soon as they realize we don't care. End of discussion," he said lifting himself up to his tallest height in order to look proud of his decision. "But…" started Aunt Petunia. "NO, listen to me; I will not have one in the house. We swore when we took him in that we'd stop all this nonsense, and that is what we will do."
That was when it began. Harry desperately wanted to read his letter, he wanted to find out who had written to him after all these years, and also what had driven his Uncle into insanity. Harry had a deep cut over his left eye from where his uncle had hit him. He noticed how aggressive his uncle had become. Dudley spent a lot of his time out of the house obviously stricken by his parent's behavior. This continued for two days until another three letters made there way to Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon was furious, he didn't hit Harry though, and he burned the letters and spent the rest of the day boarding up the letterbox.
Harry remained in his dark cupboard listening to the sound of his uncle's drill. Then Harry heard his Uncle roar his name and Harry in his haste smacked his head while exiting his cupboard. Harry blinked the blood out of his eye; he had obviously re-opened the cut over his left eye. Harry had been wondering about the day he received the cut, and how come his other sense hadn't come into use. It could have helped him a lot he thought as he wiped the blood away. "Go make lunch, NOW!" his uncle bellowed.
The next day more letters arrived. They had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and a few had even been forced through the small window in the downstairs toilet. Harry tried his best to get the letters but his uncle had burned them as soon as he had picked them up.
More letters followed the next day. Rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their bewildered milk man handed through the window to Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon was absolutely furious and shouted at the milk man until he was reduced to tears.
That night Harry was to be found in his small, dark cupboard reading a book. He was using the torch he had found in the garden shed while he had been gardening. The Dursley's were in their comfortable beds so Harry had the cupboard door slightly ajar. The landing light was on so Harry could see the shadow of the stairs reflected on the opposite wall, but right now he was engrossed in a book about a vampire. He was reading in his cupboard a great deal more since the letters because he wanted to take his mind off them.
Just then there was a number of cracking noises from the living room. Harry stopped breathing; he stayed stock still and didn't make a sound. Then there was a whoosh and all the lights went off in the house, including Harry's torch. He then heard footsteps into the hall and was sure that someone was standing right outside his cupboard. Burglars, Harry thought. He decided he would have to stop them. Harry used his feet to push the door open and kicked whoever was standing over him. But Harry also lost his balance and ended up on the ground.
"Harry, please don't try to run, I assure you, we are not here to hurt you," an old voice said from somewhere above him. Harry seemed to calm down after the voice had stopped. He pulled himself up off the ground. The man who Harry had hit to the ground also pulled himself up while straightening his cloak, Harry immediately recognized him as the man who had been watching him a few weeks ago. "Albus, I think some light would help," said a woman's voice from the corner." "Yes Minerva, maybe would should step into the kitchen."
Harry walked through to the kitchen which was instantly flooded with light. He turned around to see the man he had knocked to the ground, dressed in all black, then an old woman who had a stern face and Harry's immediate thought was this was not someone to cross. Last to enter the kitchen was a very tall, thin man. He smiled politely at Harry and held out his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself, Albus Dumbledore." Harry shook it and replied, "Harry Potter, sir."
"Sorry, but what are you doing in my aunt and uncle's kitchen, in the middle of the night," Harry asked mystified. He had come to the conclusion that these people were friendly, except maybe for the one with the greasy black hair. "Well we concluded that you had not received your letter and decided we would just tell you what it held." Harry became quite excited. These people had come for him, and now he would find out what was in that letter. "Would you like to take a seat," Harry asked courteously.
When they were all seated, Dumbledore started talking about a place called Hogwarts and how delighted he would be if Harry agreed to go. Harry just stared at him, "What is Hogwarts? I mean is there a difference between there and Stonewall High?" The woman named Minerva gave Harry a piercing stare. "Hogwarts is a school of magic, the only one in Britain. I mean where do you think your parents learnt it all?"
Harry was thrown off with the mention of magic but then he heard something about his parents and immediately switched back on. "You knew them. How? What did they learn?"
Dumbledore stood up, walked around the table and stood in front of Harry. "I was afraid of this, but I am not surprised," he said more to himself than anyone else. He took hold of both of Harry's shoulders and leaned forward, looking Harry directly in the eyes.
"Harry, you're a wizard. You have the ability to see and use magic. Just as you're parents did."
Harry just stared at the elderly man in front of him. He must be off his rocker to believe in magic. "Okay....so my parents were wizards," he started. "Wizard and witch" Minerva corrected.
Harry was beginning to lose his temper, he thought he was going to learn more about his parents, but these people really didn't know anything. "Listen, if you're here for a good laugh, leave, because I'm not in the mood. I thought you'd tell me more about my mum and dad but you probably never knew them. Fine, so I do believe there is something unexplainable out there and yeah there's a chance it could be magic, but I certainly can't see or use it because I wouldn't have been a bloody punch bag for the last nine years. And I don't think my parents were either because they wouldn't have died in that stupid car-crash and left me here on my own!"
By the time he was finished Harry was out of breath. "He doesn't know anything, nothing, his parents, you-know-who!" Minerva exclaimed.
Dumbledore stood there, disappointed etched in his face. He had let Harry down. He sat back down in his seat and looked at Harry. "Harry, I think it is time we right some wrongs."
And so they spent the next few minutes, explaining everything to Harry. Harry sat shocked, completely frozen on the other side of the pine kitchen table. He was relieved to find his parents were not like the Dursley's and that they were liked throughout the wizarding community. Snape watched closely as Harry fingered his scar realizing the importance of it; he hadn't spoken a word since Harry had attacked him in the hall.
"Murdered," Harry whispered to himself. "Do the Dursley's know about all of this, about me?"
"Yes, they were supposed to tell you everything. Obviously they were afraid of the consequences," Dumbledore said simply.
"So what does this mean? I go to Hogwarts, learn magic, do I have to return here after the school year?"
"I'm afraid so, there is protection here against Voldemort," said Dumbledore sadly, ignoring his two companions as they flinched. "But we could find you accommodation for the remaining of you're holidays." A smile playing across his face as he saw the happiness in Harry.
"Tomorrow, Harry, a man named Rubeus Hagrid will come and collect you. He will bring you to Diagon Alley in London where you will buy your school supplies. I think you will remain at the Leaky Cauldron for the remainder of your holiday. It is a lovely place and has a most memorable atmosphere.
As they were leaving, Dumbledore pointed his wand up the stairs and muttered something. He then looked at the confused expression on Harry's face. "I'm just removing the silencing charm.'
Just before he disappeared Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Happy Birthday, Harry."
End Chapter
Not the best chapter, but it was obviously important. Anyhow, the next chapter will be much longer, so give me about a week. I'll take the book in chunks, if you get my meaning, it means the story won't be the longest but also means Book 2 should happen, unless I die, which will hopefully not happen for another few years. Thank you so much for the reviews. And also, do you think Harry should be friends with Hermione before Ron. I was leaning towards yes..
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