Harry Potter and the Do Over: Book One

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter three, The Letters From No On.

When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No thanks," said Harry. "The toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might get sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

Everyone roared with laughter.

"Harry, you definitely need to let your funny side out more often." Charlie laughed.

"That was awesome!" Clint gasped.

...

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

Make Dudley get it."

"Hit him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry.

Excited whispers broke out among the students.

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

The hall once again broke out into thunderous cheers.

...

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with his hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

"You can often tell what mood Uncle Vernon is in, by the color of his face," said Harry.

"Really? Like what?" Hermione worriedly asked.

Harry just shook his head.

...

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"