Harry's Twin - Book One // Complete // Editing

As If I Know

I wake up from a comfortable sleep in Harry's and I's new room to Dudley yelling. I can hear his words clearly, even over Aunt Petunia's knocking. He's still angry about the fact that Harry and I replaced his garbage. Or, in his eyes, the fact that garbage replaced his things. 

Harry and I troop down to the kitchen, having already made a silent agreement not to cross Dudley today. The mail man comes and goes, leaving a pile of letters on the mat in the hallway. Vernon seems to have decided to be nice to Harry and I today. I'm not sure what his game is, but if it means not getting yelled at for breathing too loud, it was fine with me.

"Dudley, get the mail," Vernon says to his son.

Dudley grumbles, but rises from his chair to fetch the papers. He bangs his Smeltings stick all the way to to the door and half way back. "Hey, there's more," he calls. "Ms. L. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -"

With a strangled cry, Vernon literally leaps from his chair and stumbles out to Dudley. Without even needing to share a glance, Harry and I bound from our seats and tail our Uncle. Making our way into the hallway, we find Vernon wrestling with his son for the paper in his hand. Harry made it difficult by grabbing his neck from behind - or, at least, what bit of neck he can actually get a hold of. I kick at Vernon and Dudley, before trying to grab at least one of the letters. After a confusing, frenzied minute of fighting, in which everyone got hit with the Smeltings stick, Vernon straightens up, disentangling himself from the pile. He's struggling for breath, but is holding two letters triumphantly.

"Harry. Go to you cupboard - I mean, room. Go to your room!" Vernon wheezes, staring at the letter on top. "You, girl! You go, too. Dudley, I think you should . . . just - just go."

Harry turns without hesitation and obediently walks up the stairs to our new room. I huff angrily at Vernon before stalking off after Harry. Dudley sulks up to his bedroom, too.

Before even opening the door, Harry and I are arguing about the letters. "No, Lydia. You just don't understand!" Harry throws his hands in the air, following me into the cramped room.

"I don't understand what exactly?" I turn to look at him, blocking his entry. When he just sighs, I click my tongue and resume my stomping.

Harry starts his explanation slowly, "Basically, someone knows that we moved out of our cupboards into here." I begin to pace, while he gestures wildly, lying on his bed, staring at the dull ceiling. "What's more, they seem to know we didn't get the first one."

"How would someone know those things?"

"That's what I'm saying! That's why it's weird!"

I begin to see his point. After a few more minutes I stop pacing and sit on Harry's bed. "Do you reckon they'll try again?" Harry nods. "This time, they can't fail. We have to get the letters."

Harry stays silent for a minute. "I have a plan," is all he utters.

-----

An alarm clock that Harry had repaired wakes my twin and I up at six in the morning. As soon as Harry has one groggy eye open, the noise from across the room is stopped. We can't wake the Dursleys, so we rush downstairs trying to stay as quiet as we can.

Harry and I plan to wait at the corner of the street for the mail man to receive the letters first. Harry urges me to let him go first. I let him. I end up being glad I did, because as Harry goes to walk toward the door, he steps on something squishy. Lights click on upstairs as an answer to the screams beneath Harry's foot. It just so happens that the 'something squishy' is our Uncle Vernon's face. Harry begins to panic. Uncle Vernon is laying at the foot of the door step. It was painfully obvious that he'd slept there, likely just to stop Harry and I doing exactly what we were going to.