Chapter - 12 : The Battle for the Letters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loving the story and can't wait for more? By supporting my Patreon, you'll get exclusive early access to over 100+ chapters ahead of what's posted here!

Your support not only fuels more exciting content but also gives you the chance to be part of a vibrant community of fellow fans.

(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

http//patreon.com/Fireshadow5

Join us on Patreon and unlock the full adventure today!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There's another one!" he shouted suddenly. "Mr. and Miss Potter, the Smallest Bedroom-"

Uncle Vernon yelled and leapt to his feet, scrambling for the mail. Harry and I were hot on his heels. He tackled Dudley trying to get the letter from him and Harry wrapped an arm around Uncle Vernon's neck, trying to haul him free so that he could get at the letters. The Smelting stick swung wildly, nailing everyone at least twice. I took a certain vicious pleasure in angrily kicking my uncle and cousin.

Sadly, Harry and I were malnourished and skinny. We didn't stand a chance. Uncle Vernon emerged victorious, holding the letters above all of us.

"Potters, to your cupboard... I mean bedroom," he corrected hastily. "Dudley... go, just go…"

Bitter and sore, Harry and I trooped back up to the bedroom. I didn't even make it to the bed. I just flopped onto the carpet and growled, digging my fingers into the strands.

"What could be so bad?" I hissed. "What don't they want us to know?"

Harry slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, box springs creaking slightly. "You don't think…" he began slowly, then shook his head. "Nothing, never mind."

"What?" I pressed, rising up on my elbows to look at him. "What're you thinking?"

Harry was biting his lip, green eyes lowing behind his glasses. "Could it be… dad's family maybe?"

I went quiet. We knew for a fact that Aunt Petunia was our only family on their mom's side. But our dad was a bit of a mystery. I could count on one hand the number of times the Dursley's had mentioned him, and it had always been to insult him, not to impart any kind of useful information. For all we knew, we might have other uncles and aunts, maybe even grandparents.

When we were little, we used to amuse ourselves with fantasies straight out of a film. Some rich grandparents sweeping us away from Number 4 to live in a mansion, the Dursley's gaping after us as we drove off. Some kind of eccentric uncle coming back from an adventure in the Amazon to claim us, having just found out we existed.

Then there were the more realistic dreams. Some clean-cut, friendly man appearing on the doorstep with our poor vision and Harry's dark strands. A woman with two children hiding in her skirt demanding to see her niece and nephew.

In all of our dreams though, one thing was the same: we left. We left Privet Drive far behind and never looked back. We went from scrounging for crackers and sneaking into the kitchen at night to wandering in and making a sandwich whenever we wanted. We had our own rooms, our own possessions, things that hadn't belonged to other people first, things that actually fit. We had actual lives instead of being the Cinderella to the Dursley's Evil Stepmother.

"We will get our hands on one of those letters," I swore. "If they keep coming, sooner or later we'll get one, and then we'll know."

Harry brightened, leaning over to the alarm clock we'd managed to repair one summer. He set the clock to ring a little before six.

"We'll go down before anyone else and grab the mail when it comes through," he explained to me. I nodded approvingly.

"We will get those letters," I repeated.

The next morning our alarm went off just like Harry had set it. I shut it off to keep the beeping from waking up the Dursleys. We quickly dressed and crept downstairs in the darkness, heading for the mail slot. Harry took one final step and recoiled with a yelp.

I screamed as a huge shape loomed in front of us. I quickly realized it was Uncle Vernon, the sleeping bag still knotted around his legs. He'd passed out in front of the door to keep us from doing exactly what we'd planned.

The screaming lasted half an hour. It only stopped when the mail came through the flap and landed at Uncle Vernon's feet. He'd scooped up the three letters each addressed to us and was shredding them before Harry or I could even demand that he hand them over.

That day he stayed home, nailing the mail flap shut and whistling 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips.' But the nailed-shut letter flap didn't perturb whoever was writing the letters. They were shoved through the cracks in the doors and even through the window in the bathroom. Then the letters came in somehow pristine eggs that their milkman had passed through the window. Aunt Petunia shredded those in her food processor.

By the time Sunday came around, battle lines had been drawn. I was glaring at the Dursleys any time one of them was in my line of sight and I was making snotty remarks I usually wouldn't have dared to. Even Harry was getting short. He'd snapped at Aunt Petunia the other day to 'carry her own groceries' before stalking up to our bedroom and shutting himself inside. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking wrung out, and Dudley was still pouting over the fact that he hadn't been allowed to see the letters either.

"No post on Sundays," Uncle Vernon muttered at the breakfast table, looking happier than he had in days. "Not a single letter-"

A single letter came rocketing out of the fireplace and gave him a paper cut across the back of the head. The fireplace began to spew letters, thirty or forty at first, them more. I dove to the floor, scrambling to get my hands on one. Uncle Vernon grabbed a handful of my hair and wrenched me to my feet. Aunt Petunia had hustled out of the kitchen with Dudley and our uncle threw Harry and I out into the hall after them, slamming the kitchen door behind him.

He yanked frantically at his moustache, face rapidly alternating between red and white in a way that couldn't be healthy. "Go upstairs and pack… only the essentials… we're leaving in five minutes!"

He looked so close to a heart attack that none of us said anything. Harry and I had no trouble packing up our clothes and climbing into the back seat of the car, but Dudley didn't take it nearly so well. Uncle Vernon hit him around the head when he tried to pack up the electronics in his room.

Harry looked out the window at the night sky as we sped down the highway. I sat in the middle, leaning my head on his shoulder sleepily. Dudley was pouting in the last seat, giving us dark looks every now and then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loving the story and can't wait for more? By supporting my Patreon, you'll get exclusive early access to over 100+ chapters ahead of what's posted here!

Your support not only fuels more exciting content but also gives you the chance to be part of a vibrant community of fellow fans.

(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

http//patreon.com/Fireshadow5

Join us on Patreon and unlock the full adventure today!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~