A Family on Edge

The next morning came quickly seeing as I could actually sleep through the whole night without a knee in my back like I'd gotten in the cupboard. At breakfast the atmosphere was tense. Dudley had done everything from whacking his dad with his Smelting stick, to throwing his tortoise through the greenhouse roof. Nothing had worked to get his room back. Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia kept glancing at one another nervously.

At least it was entertaining.

When the mail arrived Uncle Vernon, who was trying to be nice to us, made Dudley get the mail. He hit things with his Smelting's stick down the hall, then it happened again.

"There's another set! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive —" Dudley called like an idiot. If he really wanted to read them why not shut up? His stupidity brought a roaring Uncle Vernon, followed closely down the hall by Harry. I just shook my head and continued breakfast. Somehow these people knew we'd been moved?

"Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed to Harry. "Dudley — go — just go." He told Dudley, then stammered back into the kitchen. When he saw me he glared.

"You, bedroom to." He ordered, I shrugged and stood up. I tired to get a glance at the letter. But I couldn't so went up to the bedroom and found Harry looking thoroughly disappointed though he was also in deep thought.

"I have a plan." He said in a low voice. I shrugged.

"Good luck." I replied.

"Aren't you interested in this?" He asked, I nodded.

"I am, but antagonizing the Dursley's isn't the way forward. Have patience Harry." I told him, he looked unconvinced.

So the next day, when Harry's alarm went off at six am. He looked at me with a guilty look.

"Sorry." He told me, I just pulled my pillow over my head and tried to get back to sleep.

I was just about to fall back asleep when a loud "AAAAARRRGH!" sounded and Uncle Vernon started yelling at Harry. I was to tired to go and join the screams, so crept over to the door and shut it. Then started to fall back asleep.

"Harry and his plans." I mumbled to myself.

When I got up and found Uncle Vernon nailing the mail slot. I just shook my head.

"Are these stalkers or something?" I asked the Dursley's confused.

"Of the sort." Vernon replied bitterly.

By Friday dozens of letters for both me and Harry were arriving every day. It was a site as Uncle Vernon blocked us both from reading them. Though at some point one would get through, or whoever these people were would send someone. Seeing as the mail slot was blocked, the letter were now being pushed under the front door, slid through the sides, and a few pushed through the downstairs bathroom window.

Uncle Vernon stayed home once again, burned all the letters, then boarded the cracks by the front and back doors, all the while humming "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" and jumping at any sound.

I think the poor man is losing his mind.

Saturday tested my sense of logic. The mailman handed Aunt Petunia two dozen eggs, somehow twelve letter each for me and Harry found a dozen. Uncle Vernon furiously called the postman, and dairy to complain. While Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in a food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you two this badly?" Dudley asked us in amazement.

"No idea." I replied, just as amazed and confused him.

On Sunday Uncle Vernon, who looked tired and sick, sat down. Despite how he looked he was happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded us cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today —"

Before Uncle Vernon could finish his thought, a pair of letters came shooting out of the kitchen chimney and hit him in the back of the head. A second later dozens of more letters came shooting out of the kitchen chimney. The Dursley's ducked, Harry leapt trying to catch one, while I tried to go after one on the floor.

"Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared at us. He seized Harry by the waste, and I decided it wasn't a good idea to tempt his wrath so I gave up and left. Petunia and Dudley followed, and Vernon rounded out the group. He slammed the door behind him, and looked at all of us with fury on his face.

"That does it," he said, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"