Bitter Rivals Sweet Love

The Letters From No One

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry and Azalea their longest-ever punishment. By the time they were allowed out of the cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.
Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang,
who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Potter Hunting.
This was why the twins spent as much time as possible out of the house,
wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where they
could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came they would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, Harry wouldn't be
with Dudley and the two Potters could be together at school. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private
school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry and Azzy, on the
other hand, were 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 poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said. One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and Azalea at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn 't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats,and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let them watch
television and gave them a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though
she'd had it for several years.
That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in
his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange
knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried
knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't
looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Azzy didn't trust herself to speak. Harry whispered to her that he thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to
laugh. There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry and Azzy went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. They went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
"What's this?" she asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always
did if she dared to ask a question.
"Your new school uniform," she said.
Harry looked in the bowl again.
"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."
"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've
finished." Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue and simply resorted to raising his eyebrows at Azalea who mirrored his expression. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look
on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere,on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. "Make Harry get it." "Get the mail, Harry." "Make Dudley get it." "Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Four 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 each for the twins.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? They had no friends, no other relatives -- they didn't belong to the library, so they'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here they were, two letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey