Chapter -18 Could it be for me?

Chapter 18: 

Soon enough, a whole month flew by in no time! And of course, the whole 'mysterious glass disappearance incident' at the crawling hall was pinned on Harry. I mean, with all the odd things that have happened around him since he was little, it was kind of expected.

But honestly, it was mostly Harry's fault.

Because of that, the Dursleys decided to lay down the law with Harry. They hit him with a pretty tough punishment: no smoked bacon for a week and no soda either! He was stuck with just fish and chips.

Harry was feeling pretty gloomy about it all.

Now, fish and chips aren't the worst thing ever; they were actually pretty tasty the first time he tried them. 

But here's the thing...

Whenever Petunia didn't feel like cooking, that's what he ended up with, and over time, it just lost its charm. The fish was frozen for way too long, so it had no flavor, and the chips were dry and crumbly—definitely not the most enjoyable meal.

Looking back, Harry realized he wasn't exactly having a great week.

One day in July, while Harry was helping Petunia with some cleaning, they heard the postman outside.

"Dursley, you have mail!" he called out, and the sound of the mailbox clattering followed. The letters didn't even make it into the mailbox; they just scattered all over the doormat.

Vernon was lounging on the sofa, reading the newspaper, and noticed Dudley coming out after his morning workout and shower.

"Dudley, go grab the mail," he said.

"Sure!" Dudley replied, heading to the door to pick up the three letters that had landed there.

One was a postcard from Aunt Marge, who was off on a trip. Another was a bill, probably for the electricity. And the last one? It was addressed to Harry Potter.

The handwriting was in a fancy emerald green ink, and there was no stamp. On the back, there was a wax seal with a shield emblem, featuring a big "H" surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.

'What's meant to come will eventually come,' right?

Dudley checked the mailbox again, just in case, but there was nothing for him, and he felt a strange sense of disappointment.

He casually handed the postcard and bill to Vernon.

"Oh my goodness! Marge is sick," Vernon exclaimed to Petunia. "She ate some bad oil snails!"

Then he opened the bill, grumbling in annoyance—who likes bills, anyway? But then he noticed the last letter in Dudley's hand.

"Dudley, is that your letter? What's with the weird material? Parchment? Who even uses this stuff anymore?"

"This is Harry's," Dudley said, waving the letter in front of Vernon.

As soon as he said that, the house fell into an eerie silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Vernon, Petunia, and Harry all turned to Dudley, or more specifically, to the letter he was holding.

'Who would send Harry a letter?' 

That question hung in the air, leaving the Dursleys puzzled, and even Harry was scratching his head. 

'Yeah, who would send me a letter?'

Vernon snatched the letter from Dudley and opened it with one hand, reading it quickly.

Harry didn't mind; he was just eager to find out what it said, so he leaned in closer.

Vernon read the first line, and his face went from red to pale in an instant, faster than a traffic light. Within moments, it turned gray like oatmeal.

"Petunia... Petunia, it's them!" 

Those few words seemed to suck the life out of him.

Harry didn't catch much of what happened next when Petunia grabbed the letter. She read the first line too, then clutched her forehead, swaying like she might faint, before grabbing her throat as if she was about to choke.

This made Harry even more curious; he had never seen that look on Aunt Petunia's face before.

"Aunt Petunia, what does it say?" 

Harry leaned in, full of curiosity, but Petunia quickly tucked the letter away.

"This is not something a child should know."

Dudley could see that Petunia was trying really hard to keep it together, not wanting to break down. "Vernon and I need to talk; you two go to your room upstairs for now."

"Okay, Aunt," Harry replied, trying to be a good boy.

"Dudley, do you know what's going on?" As soon as they were in the room, Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

Having spent so much time with Dudley, Harry was a bit more mature than he looked. 

He figured it was better to ask his older cousin than to poke around with Petunia and Vernon.

Dudley patted Harry's head, sounding almost like he was saying goodbye: "Harry, you might not be able to go to the same middle school as me."

"Why?!" Harry's voice shot up a few notches, then he realized something and asked urgently, "Is it because of that letter?" 

"Vernon." Aunt Petunia's shaky voice came from outside, "What should we do? Vernon? Should we reply to the letter? Tell them we don't want to... we finally managed to treat him like our own child." 

"Petunia, I will never let them take anyone away. Didn't we promise when we took him in to completely cut ties with all that?" 

"..." 

Dudley could hear Aunt Petunia sobbing and Vernon shouting angrily.

He had known this day would come and thought his parents were ready for it, but when it actually happened, their reaction was more intense than he expected.

Because of a letter, the Dursleys were thrown into total chaos.

Even Harry, who usually didn't catch on to much, sensed that something big was about to happen, and his life might change because of it.

In the end, Petunia and Vernon decided to burn the letter, thinking that would make everything go away.

Dudley knew this was just the beginning.

The next morning, the alarm clock rang at six o'clock sharp.

Dudley, the early bird, jumped out of bed to start his daily workout. 

He began with some simple warm-ups to stretch out.

One-handed push-ups, dumbbells, resistance bands—he went through them all.

Just as Dudley was finishing up, the postman arrived right on time.

"Dursley, here's your mail!"

As always, the letters were in that fancy emerald green ink, and this time there were three letters for Harry. 

Vernon rushed in and tore the three letters to shreds right in front of Harry.

Harry didn't react at all; he was completely unfazed. He knew this letter would mean he couldn't go to Smeltings with Dudley, and he really wanted to go.

That day, Vernon nailed the mailbox shut.

On the third day, six letters arrived.

On the fourth day, twelve letters.

From the second day on, the number just kept doubling every other day.

Until Sunday.

"On Sundays, there won't be a postman, and there won't be any letters," Vernon said, sounding pleased.

But no sooner had he said that than something zoomed down the kitchen chimney and hit him hard on the back of the head. Then, a flurry of letters shot out of the fireplace like bullets, filling the entire room in an instant.

Today, it wasn't the postman delivering letters; it was owls, and the Dursleys' yard was swarming with them.

Looking at the mountain of letters filling the room, Dudley felt nothing.

'Looks like I'm not meant to have anything to do with Hogwarts.'

Following Vernon's orders, Dudley tossed the piles of letters into the burning fireplace.

In a daze, Dudley caught a glimpse of one particular letter out of the corner of his eye, and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly reached through the flames to grab it, but by the time he pulled it out, most of the letter had already burned away.

The name in the upper left corner was especially unrecognizable, but with a closer look, Dudley could just make out that it didn't start with an 'H' for Harry, but rather a big 'D.'

'Could this be my letter?!'

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