Stay - Theodore Nott

Chapter 3

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to the two Potter siblings, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall.

Then he shouted, "There's another one for both of them! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive and Miss. K. Potter, T—'" With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry and Kirra right behind him.

Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand and Kirra's in hers.

"Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry and Kirra. "Dudley — go — just go." Harry and Kirra walked round and round to their new room. Someone knew they had moved out of their cupboard and they seemed to know they hadn't received their first letter.

Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time they would make sure they didn't fail. They made a plan. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently, Kirra quickly pulling her clothes on. They mustn't wake the Dursleys.

They stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. They were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Their hearts hammered as they held onto each other's hands and crept across the dark hall toward the front door —

"AAAAARRRGH!" Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat — something alive! Kirra had kicked the unknown object hard in fright. Lights clicked on upstairs and to their horror Kirra and Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been their uncle's face.

Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry and Kirra didn't do exactly what they'd been trying to do. He shouted at the twins for about half an hour and then told them to go and make a cup of tea.

They shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time they got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

"I want —" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before their eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for both Kirra and Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry and Kirra found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.

While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry and Kirra in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. "No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today —" Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head.