Hexad

Book one, chapter three

Harry Potter And The Bleak World. That is the name of the first book.

Chapter three of this spectacular book-in-a-book, The Letters From No One.

I do not own Harry Potter. This is an AU.

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By the time Harry had been 'allowed' out his cupboard, though nobody seemed to notice his presence in the corner of the living room everyday-all-day, just reading with Hydrus usually laid across his lap, the summer holidays had started. Dudley had already broken his video camera, crashed his remote controlled plane, had gone for a number of rides on his bike, and knocked down poor Mrs.Figg while she walked down Privet Drive, as he usually did every summer. Harry was a little disappointed that school had ended, but he found himself enjoying it eventually, as he took almost daily trips to the nearby library. Dudley's gang only bothered to chase him down until they passed the Video-game arcade, as Harry had always deliberately tried to run through. None of them-- not Dudley, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, or Gordon had managed to go a minute in there before getting distracted by some game they 'suddenly' had the urge to play. They hadn't lasted one round in 'Harry Hunting.'

He spent as much time as he could in the library since he'd be going to the public secondary school when September began. And luckily, Dudley wouldn't be at the same school. He'd be at Smeltings, some stuck-up private school. Harry would be at Stonewall High, the local school. Dudley thought it was hilarious, but hadn't been able to make a comment before Hydrus tauntingly bit the air in his direction. Some day in July— the days had been passing by like minutes to Harry— Petunia took Dudley to get his uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs.Figg's. She had been less fond of her cats now that one of them were at fault for her broken leg. She let him watch television, and offered him cake, though he denied it, saying he had a strict diet, and that he didn't like sweets anyway.

Of course, it was a lie-- he hadn't even eaten enough food daily to know if he needed a diet, but he didn't want to be rude, and he hadn't even had enough sweets to say whether or not he liked them. Dudley, on the other hand, could name every single candy he's had in his life, and rank them from his favourite to least favourite. Sometimes, he did it infront of Harry's face, just to annoy him, or show off that he was spoiled. Eric Cartman fr

When Petunia and Dudley had arrived back home that afternoon, many pictures of Dudley in his new knickerbockers were taken. And he was, as always, gushed over lovingly, constantly looking at Harry in the corner and making faces or throwing nonverbal curse words. The next morning, the kitchen had a foul scent from, as Petunia worded it, Harry's new uniform, and Dudley hit almost everything with his Smelting stick. It seemed to be his new favourite tool to torture Harry with, slapping his knees with it as he walked and knocking on his head. From the door, the mail was heard falling through the slot. 

"Dudley, go get the mail," Vernon said behind his newspaper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Harry, go get the mail,"

"Make Dudley get it."

"Hit him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry narrowly avoided getting hit on the head with the stick, his shoulder having to take the blow, and went to get the mail. Three letters laid on the doormat; A letter from Marge, Vernon's sister, a brown envelope that looked like the monthly bill, and— Harry blinked multiple times and even blew on his glasses to make sure he saw correctly— a letter addressed to him. His face went from the dark brown it usually was to an almost sickly green. Nobody had any reason to write him. He never got any letters from the library about overdue books, as he always had the sense to turn them in days early, yet here, a letter addressed to him. He blinked once, twice, a third time, before Vernon yelled from the kitchen. He had no time to think, and ran, to give up the other letters.