The Art of Deception

Chapter 2

Aurelia leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly, watching as Dudley stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting his Smeltings uniform with exaggerated care. His smug grin was the worst part. The boy had a way of making even the simplest things look like grand accomplishments. Aunt Petunia clicked away with the camera, capturing every ridiculous moment.

"Awww, smile!" Petunia's voice was high-pitched, practically dripping with pride. She gasped dramatically as she snapped another picture. "Vernon, just look at him! I can't believe it. In just a week, you'll be off to Smeltings!"

Vernon puffed his chest out, his already bloated ego swelling even further. "Caveat Smeltona," he muttered, as if those words carried the weight of royalty. "Proudest moment of my life."

Aurelia could feel the bile rising in her throat. It was one thing to fawn over Dudley, but this was crossing a line. She glanced over at Harry, who looked as unimpressed as she felt.

"Will I have to wear that, too?" Harry asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and sarcasm.

Aurelia scoffed, shooting a disgusted look at the uniform. "No way in hell," she muttered, though her words were barely audible. She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at the whole scene.

Petunia, of course, overheard her. She turned to Harry, her lips curling in disdain. "What? You? Go to Smeltings?" she asked, her voice dripping with mockery.

Aurelia added, without hesitation, "No thanks," her voice sharp as glass.

The Dursleys laughed, the sound ugly and mocking, a reminder of how little they thought of either of them.

"Oh, don't be so stupid," Petunia snapped, turning away to grab something from the kitchen. "You're going to the state school where you belong."

Aurelia's fingers curled into fists, but Harry's quiet voice cut through the tension. "Is this what I'm supposed to wear?" he asked, referring to the grey shirt Petunia had just pulled from the boiler.

"No way I'm wearing that shit," Aurelia muttered under her breath, her stomach churning at the thought of the hand-me-downs that were nothing but rags at this point.

But Harry just nudged her with his elbow, a subtle reminder to keep it down. She clenched her jaw, but nodded.

"But that's Dudley's old uniform," Harry continued, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "It'll fit me like bits of old elephant skin."

"It'll fit you well enough," Petunia said over her shoulder, too busy with her task to even acknowledge Harry's complaint. "Go get the post, Harry."

Aurelia let out a low sigh as she followed him out of the room.

Harry bent down to pick up the letters that had fallen through the letterbox. There, among the piles of usual junk, was one addressed to them—both of them. Aurelia's heart skipped a beat. A letter. A real letter. For them.

He brought the stack back into the living room and handed the mail to Uncle Vernon, who barely acknowledged it as he flipped through the pile. When he got to the postcard from Aunt Marge, he snorted in amusement.

"Oh, Marge is ill! Ate a funny whelk!" Vernon chuckled, completely ignoring the fact that Harry had a letter in his hands.

But Dudley, as usual, noticed. His small, greedy eyes locked onto the letter Harry was holding, and before Harry could react, Dudley rushed over, snatching it from his hands and running it straight to Vernon.

"Dad! Look! Harry's got a letter!" Dudley crowed, as if he had uncovered some great treasure.

Aurelia felt her stomach twist. Her hand instinctively moved to hide her own letter, but Petunia, ever watchful, was quicker. She grabbed Aurelia's letter from her hands with cold precision, handing it over to Vernon with a sweet, almost mockingly polite smile.