The incident at the zoo landed Harry and I our
longest punishment to date. Once we were allowed out of our cupboard, summer
holiday had already begun and Dudley had managed to break multiple birthday
presents, and knocked poor Mrs. Figg over with his racing bike.
While I was glad school was out, escaping Dudley’s
gang was near impossible with them coming over every single day. Dudley was a
ring leader to a gang filled with a lot all equally big and stupid. This summer
they never seemed to get tired of playing their two favourite games: Harry Hunting
and Running Rena.
As I’m sure Harry felt the same way, the only thing
getting me through the summer was that when September came, we’d be going to
secondary school. Somehow, Dudley managed to be accepted to Uncle Vernon’s old
private school, Smeltings. While Piers would be joining Dudley, Harry and I
would be going to the local public school. Dudley seemed to be getting quite
the laugh out of it.
“They stuff heads down toilets the first day at
Stonewall. Want to come upstairs and practice?” my cousin, asked us.
“No, thanks,” Harry began. “The poor toilet’s never
had anything as horrible as your head down it. It might get sick.” With that
Harry and I bolted out of the room before the pig could figure out what he had
said. It was times like these I was actually impressed with my brother.
The next night, Dudley paraded around the house
wearing his new Smeltings’ uniform. His tailcoats were maroon, a horrid orange
pair of knickerbockers to match, with straw hat and a knobby stick to complete
the uniform. The stick mainly was used for hitting each other, and if I didn’t
think I’d get hit with it, I would have busted up laughing at the sight of that
pig in his uniform. Looking at Dudley, Uncle Vernon said that it was the
proudest moment in his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears, crying about how
grown-up and handsome her Ickle Dudleykins was.
When Harry woke me up the next morning, the
strongest stench hit me. It seemed to be coming from a huge metal tub Aunt
Petunia was leaning over. The tub had what looked like dirty rags drenched in
gray water.
“What’s this?” Harry asked.
“Your new school uniforms,” she said with tight
lips.
“Oh, I didn’t realize it had to be so wet,” Harry
looked into the tub again.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m dying some of the neighbor
girl and Dudley’s old clothes gray for you two. They will look just the same as
everyone else.”
While I seriously doubted this, I thought it best
not to argue. Dudley came down hitting anything in his path with his Smelting
stick, including me. He had gotten into habit of carrying it everywhere and
practicing poking others, by jamming his stick into Harry and me. My ribs were
sore from the constant abuse, and I had developed a few new bruises. Focused on
my sore abdomen, I didn’t hear the mail arrive.
“Get the mail, Dudley,” Uncle Vernon grumbled from
behind his paper.
“Make Rena get it.”
“He told you to get it, stupid,” I quickly snapped.
“Rena, get the mail,” Uncle Vernon grumbled.
“I’ll get it,” Harry jumped in, earning him a poke
from Dudley’s Smelting stick. Once Harry had left to get the mail, Dudley began
pelting me with the end of his stick instead. Harry came back dropping two
things in front of our uncle, handing a letter to me, and keeping one for
himself.
Ms. R. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish
parchment and my name was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp and
no return address. Who would be writing to me? Harry and I have never received
letters. Why would we? We had no friends, no family, and didn’t belong to a
library or anything. Yet here we sat with both of us holding parchment bearing
a purple wax seal.
As Uncle Vernon began ripping open his bill and
reading a postcard from his sister Marge, I examined the seal. It had a large H
in the middle with, what looked like, a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake
around the letter.
“Dad!” Dudley suddenly shouted. “Dad, they’ve got
letters!”
Just as I began opening the letter addressed to me,
Aunt Petunia snatched it out of my hand as Uncle Vernon stole Harry’s.
“Hey! That’s mine!” I yelled trying to get it back.
“Those letters are for us!” Harry defended.
“Oh, who would be writing to you two?” sneered
Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter. As he read it, his face seemed to change from
an angry red to a sickly pale gray. He exchanged a glance with our aunt before
taking my letter out of her hands, and yelling for us to get out. “Out! Both of
you, get out. You too, Dudley.”
“I want to read my letter! Since it is MY letter!”
I yelled as Uncle Vernon pushed us out of the kitchen. All three of us attempted
to listen through the cracks of the door.
“Vernon, look at the address… How could they
possibly know where they sleep? Are they watching the house?” Aunt Petunia said,
voice shaking.
“Watching. Spying. Could be following us,” Uncle
Vernon muttered.
“What should we do, Vernon? Do we write back? Tell
them we don’t want them to go?” Aunt Petunia questioned.
Through the crack under the door I could see Uncle
Vernon pacing the floor back and forth. He finally stopped, muttering something
about ignoring the letters. Aunt Petunia attempted to argue, but it only fueled
Uncle Vernon’s anger.
“I’m not having one in this house, Petunia! We
swore we’d stamp out that nonsense when we took them in, didn’t we? We will
ignore it and that’s that!” yelled Uncle Vernon.
The next night, Uncle Vernon moved Harry and I to
the extra bedroom upstairs. We never did get our letters, and when we asked
about it, Uncle Vernon simply dismissed us, saying it was addressed wrong. So
he burnt them and reminded us not to ask questions.
While Harry and I had separate beds for the first
time in our life, I’d much rather have been in our cupboard with our letters.
Dudley wasn’t happy with our new rooming situation either, but no matter how
much he cried, whined, and begged, we still resided in the room upstairs. The
letters and our new living quarters were never discussed again. That is until
two more letters arrived days later.
Ms. R. Potter
The Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
With a startled cry, Uncle Vernon tore up our
letters and ordered us kids to our rooms. Back in our room, Harry and I were
eagerly chatting back and forth about our new letters.
“They even knew we changed rooms, Ren! Who could it
be?”
“Who cares, Harry, who sent them, if we never get
to see what was sent! They tried again, surely they won’t stop trying right?” I
asked.
“Okay but how do we read the next ones?”
“Let’s wake early and get the mail ourselves! We
can wait on the corner for the post before they even wake up,” I suggested.
So the next morning, Harry and I quietly got
dressed at six o’clock in the morning. We sneaked downstairs, not even turning
on the lights. When Harry opened the door to go outside he jumped back. The
lights flashed on upstairs as yell came from outside. Harry had stepped on
Uncle Vernon’s face! He was sleeping outside the door, to prevent us from doing
exactly what we had planned.
Three more letters came for each of us, which Uncle
Vernon promptly ripped up before even a word was said. By the next Saturday,
over thirty letters had arrived. Uncle Vernon burned all of them before
boarding up the mail slot, as well as every crack the letters were being shoved
into. On Sunday, Uncle Vernon never looked happier.
“No post on Sundays,” he smiled reading the paper.
“No blasted letters today!”
He had spoken too soon however, as something came
shooting down the chimney and pelted him directly on his forehead. Within a
moment, what seemed to be a hundred letters came blasting through the
fireplace. As the Dursleys ducked from getting hit, Harry and I attempted to
grab letters from the air.
“Out! OUT!” Uncle Vernon yelled at us. He grabbed
me by the waist and threw me out into the hall, but not before I could slip a
letter into my shirt. It was Harry’s letter but I began opening it.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf.
Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter, --
That was as far as I got before the
letter as ripped out of my hands by Uncle Vernon and I noticed Harry now by my
side.
“That is it! We are going away. Far
away! Go pack some clothes and no arguments!” Uncle Vernon spoke while
attempting to stay calm, but clearly was pulling out tuffs of his mustache.
So, we drove and drove and drove, until
we reached a hole-in-the-wall hotel. Uncle Vernon kept muttering to himself
about “shaking them off,” but I don’t think anyone could follow the crazy Uncle
Vernon was protruding.
We were eating a morning meal of stale cornflakes
and canned tomatoes, when there was a knock on the door. It was the owner of
the hotel and she asked if any of us were Ms. R. Potter or Mr. H. Potter, for she
had a couple hundred letters addressed to us at the front desk. Uncle Vernon’s
eyes widened and he rushed the lot of us back into the car as he mumbled to
himself.
That night we ended up in a miserable
little shack secluded on it’s one rock island. We had to row ourselves to rock
as a storm began to brew. The entire shack reeked of seaweed, and there was
clearly no heater. There were only two rooms: a bedroom upstairs, and kitchen
connected to a living room, downstairs.
Aunt Petunia found some moldy blankets,
and made a bed for Dudley on the raggedy sofa downstairs. She and Uncle Vernon
took the bed upstairs, which left Harry and I to be on the floor.
As everyone fell asleep, I whispered to
my brother, “Only five minutes to go.”
“What do you want for your birthday,
Ren?” Harry asked me, with a surprisingly serious tone. We both knew the most
we ever gotten for our birthday was some socks and a somewhat frozen meal, we
for once didn’t have to make.
“Our letters,” I responded dreamingly,
still with no clue who could be the sender. “How about you, Harry? What do you
want for your birthday?”
“To get away from the Dursleys,” he
laughed. “One more minute. Ready to blow out our candles?” he asked while
drawing a cake with eleven candles in the dirt on the floor.
“Five… Four…,” I began.
“Three… Two…”
“One!” we whispered together.
“Happy Birthday, Harry.”
“Happy Birthday, Rena.” We hugged in
celebration, of us turning eleven. But the moment we let go…
BOOM!
The whole shack shook and Harry and I sat upright.
Someone was outside, and they were wanting to come in.
BOOM!
Dudley jerked awake and Uncle Vernon ran down
stairs with a rifle in hand, Aunt Petunia following.
BOOM!
“Who’s there?” Uncle Vernon shouted. “I’m warning
you – I’m armed!” He didn’t sound very threatening. Even so, there was a pause.
SMASH!
The door was now lying flat on the floor and a
giant figure stood in his place. His features were masked by long shaggy hair
and a crazy beard. Only eyes could be seen as they reflected light. I pulled Harry
to the side of the fireplace, just out of sight.
The giant lowered his head to fit through the
doorway.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the giant said picking up the
door. Walking over to sit by Dudley, who was frozen in fear, he exclaimed, “An’
here’s Harry! Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer
dad, but of course yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes. Where’s little Rena?”
Uncle Vernon made a weird gasping noise before
pointing his gun at the stranger and yelling, “Leave! I demand you leave at once!
You are breaking and entering!”
“Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” and with
that he bent the rifle to point upwards. He turned back to Dudley, “Happy
Birthday Harry!”
“I-I-I’m not Harry,” Dudley stuttered.
“I am,” Harry exposed himself, slightly pulling me out
of our hiding spot as well.
“Well of course ye are! And little Rena! Happy
Birthday ya two. Got summat fer yeh. Mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll
taste all right. Baked it meself,” he joyously said handing over a slightly
squashed box. Harry opened it and there lay a pink cake with ‘Happy Birthday
Harry and Rena!’ written in green icing.
“Who are you?” Harry looked up from the cake with
question.
“He means thank you,” I added slightly glaring at
my brother. Something about this giant seemed familiar. Whoever the friendly
giant was, I felt I somehow knew him.
The giant just chuckled, “Haha I ‘aven’t introduced
meself, ‘ave I? Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” With
his introduction, he took his umbrella and pointed it at the fire place, and
just like that there was a fire crackling where he had aimed.
“How did you do that?!” I asked, eyes wide with
wonder.
Before he could answer my question, Harry chimed
in, “Sorry, but we still don’t really know who you are…”
“Ye can call me Hagrid,” he answered, “everyone
does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts – yeh’ll know all
‘bout Hogwarts, o’ course.”
“Uh – Sorry, no,” Harry and I said at the same time.
“Sorry? It’s them would should be sorry!” Hagrid
said angrily, pointing to our aunt and uncle. “I knew yeh wasn’t gettin’ yer
letters, but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts! Did ya two
never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”
“Learn what exactly?” I asked.
“LEARN WHAT?” Hagrid yelled flabbergasted. “Are yer
tellin’ me,” he turned to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, “that James and Lily
Potter’s kids – those kids! – don’t know nothin’ abou’ ANYTHING?”
“Hey we know some things,” Harry defended. “We can
do math and stuff…”
“Yeh must know ‘bout yer mum and dad. They’re
famous. Yer famous!” Hagrid exclaimed in frustration.
“Famous?” Harry and I questioned.
“Stop! Don’t you tell them. I forbid you tell them
anything!” Uncle Vernon demanded, attempting to puff out his chest.
“You never told ‘em? Never told ‘em ‘bout the
letter Dumbledore left for ‘em? I was there! I saw ‘im leave it, Dursley! All
these years, and they don’ know?” Hagrid spoke with rage, but also what seemed
to be heartbreak. Through that heartbreak, I seemed to remember who this
friendly giant was.
“I know you who you are…” I commented, still trying
to fully recall. “You brought us here… to them… on your bike.”
“Yeh remember dat? Little Rena ‘members me!” Hagrid
let out a laugh.
“Stop this! We chose a long time ago they will have
nothing to do with it!” Uncle Vernon shouted resembling more like a tomato by
the second.
“To do with what?” Harry asked frustrated.
“Yer a wizard, Harry. And yer a witch, Rena.
Thumpin’ good’uns I’d say! After a little training of course.” The giant has
lost his mind. “With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? ‘Bout
time you got yer letters, I reckon.”
We each were handed a letter from Hagrid. It was
addressed in a familiar emerald green to Ms. R. Potter, The Floor,
Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. I finally opened the yellow parchment with emerald
green writing:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf.
Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been
accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a
list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no
later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
As questions exploded in my mind, Harry asked just
one, “What does ‘await your owl’ mean?”
“Gallopin’ Gorgons, I almos’ fergot!” Hagrid pulled
from his heavy overcoat, an owl—a real, live, ruffled-looking owl—along with a
quill and some parchment.
As the owl flew off with a letter in hand, Uncle
Vernon said, “They will not be going!”
“Oh and a great Muggle like yerself is gonna stop
‘em?” Hagrid laughed.
“A what?” I questioned.
“A Muggle,” said Hagrid, “it’s what we call
non-magic folk like ‘em. An’ it’s yer bad luck ye grew up in a family o’ da biggest
Muggles I e’er laid eyes on!”
“No. We promised we’d stomp that rubbish out of
them!” Uncle Vernon yelled.
“You knew!?” Harry and I yelled.
“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia for the first time
tonight. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my sister being what
she was? She got her letter and disappeared to that dratted school and came
home turning teacups into rats with pockets full of frog spawn. Our parents
were so proud. Lily this and Lily that. ‘We have a witch in the family!’ I was
the only one to see her for what she was – a freak!”
She stopped to take a deep breath before ranting
again. It seemed she had been holding this in for all these years.
“Then she met that Potter, got married, and had you
two. I knew you’d be just as strange, just as abnormal. Then she just had to
get herself blown up and we got landed with you two!”
Harry had gone very white, but anger pulsated
through me and I yelled, “Blown up? You said they died in a car crash! How
could you lie about their death?”
“CAR CRASH!” Hagrid exploded. “Kill Lily and James
Potter? It’s an outrage! All o’ this! Harry and Rena Potter not even knowin’
their own story, when everybody in our world be knowin’ their names!”
“I will not pay for some crackpot fool to teach
them magic tricks!” Uncle Vernon shook with anger.
“Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front o’ me!”
Hagrid growled, and with that point his umbrella toward Dudley, who I know
realized was eating Harry’s and my birthday cake. Sparks flew out of the tip
and hit Dudley smack on his tail bone, where he sprouted a pig’s tail.
Finally, that pig with a wig was now able to take
his true form! As my aunt and uncle began to fuss over Dudley, Hagrid turned to
us.
“I’d appreciate ye not tell no one at Hogwarts
‘bout that. Strictly speaking, I’m not allowed to be doin’ magic,” he told us
nervously. Harry and I just shook our heads, indicating our lips were sealed.
“Great! Best be off now. Bit behind schedule.” Noticing our pause, he added,
“Unless you two rather stay here, of course.”
Harry and I looked at each other.
“Hey Harry…”
“Yeah Ren?”
“We both got our wish…” With that all we could do
was smile.
BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER.
