Foucault County
At the filthy riverside bridge hole
June 12, 1991
Surrey
Little Whinging
Number 4, Privet Drive
Under the staircase storage
To Mr. Harry Potter
Dear Mr. Harry Potter,
That is, if there really is a Harry Potter in this world.
Before this, I also sent a letter to Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street in London, but then the postman returned it with a red stamp saying "No such person."
Coming to London out of the blue, I first need to figure out what kind of world this is, right?
Thank heavens, this beautiful country doesn't have Superman from Metropolis.
Nor Batman from Gotham.
Not even The Flash from Central City, and Stark Industries...
Well, I made sure of that before daring to write it in the letter.
Anyway, London in 1991, I really can't think of anything special.
Until I saw an owl.
Then, a whimsical thought struck me, what if there's Harry Potter? The boy who lived through great hardship.
Although I don't know if this letter will be returned again — I've actually accepted reality.
No matter how absurd, as long as it happened, existed, it can only be accepted.
But the postman is a freckled, kind-hearted boy, who always comforts me by saying the envelope is too old... So considerate, this is clearly an old envelope I dug out from the trash heap, thank him for still being willing to send it for me.
So, this is the last letter.
Let me see, what's different about this world?
So, Mr. Harry Potter — if it really is you, would you like to write back to me?
Your faithful
Lilian
...
Harry was lying in his storage cupboard, staring at the old letter in front of him, his heart filled with indescribable joy.
This morning — well, today is Dudley's birthday, but unfortunately, Harry let loose a Brazilian boa constrictor at the zoo...
Harry sighed: It wasn't intentional.
But it scared Dudley and his classmate Piers, leaving the Dursleys utterly humiliated and dejected.
To comfort dear, poor little Duddy, Harry was ordered back to the cupboard for confinement.
But... confinement is confinement, the chores can't be neglected.
Like fetching the mail.
Uncle Vernon said, "Dudley, go fetch."
Dudley would say, "Let Harry fetch."
If Harry didn't move, Aunt Petunia would say, "Fetch your Smeltings stick and make him go!"
It came with Dudley's Smeltings uniform; Mr. Dursley was proud of it, often brandishing it like a wizard's wand.
Harry didn't want to be beaten.
So he fetched the mail.
Birthday wishes for Dudders, letters from Aunt Petunia's friends in Majorca...
And, the last one.
Old, dirty, even crumpled.
It read:
"For Mr. Harry Potter"
For a moment — Harry felt breathless.
As if a nerve in his brain twitched, his heartbeat amplified, a wave of hot blood rushed to his forehead...
In short, this was an unexpected, unprecedented surprise.
Someone! Wrote to him! To "Harry Potter"!
Anyway, Harry felt it was divine guidance; he hid the letter in his pocket.
Back in the cupboard, he opened the letter with almost a devout attitude —
He had to, both the envelope and the letter paper were excessively fragile.
As if crumpled by someone, then carefully flattened again.
The first thing he saw was the date.
The letter was sent on 6.12, but today is Dudley's birthday, 6.23.
Heaven!
Harry almost jumped up after reading the letter again —
It's been so long, how sad must the sender be if he hasn't replied yet?!
YOU ARE READING
Joyful Magical Days
FantasyOn Dudley's birthday, Harry Potter, who was doing chores at home, received a letter from a stranger, who addressed him as: 'The Boy Who Lived Through Great Hardship'.
