𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨 [𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙖 𝘿𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙮]

CHAPTER II

I HANDED VERNON A GLASS OF LEMONADE as Harry served him from a tray of biscuits. Sundays were now his favourite days ever since Harry began receiving letters. Personally, I had delighted in Sundays long before Harry's sudden fame. 

 We both knew where the letters were from, and we both knew what they were about. However, I had never seen with my own two eyes what the letter said on the inside, and once in a while burned with curiosity to read what they said. Vernon however, kept a stern watch on all the letters, and after deciding burning them simply wasn't enough, had resolved to nailing the letter slot in the door shut. He had also boarded up the fireplace and stuffed all the nooks and crannies where letters were likely to find their ways in. 

 "Fine day, Sunday," he said smugly. "And do you know why?" he directed this question to Harry in particular. 

"Because there's no post on Sunday." said Harry flatly, struggling to keep the tray still as Dudley grabbed a fistful of biscuits. 

 "Right you are, boy. No post on Sunday." he said, waving his half eaten biscuit at the window as though he were ridiculing the birds soaring around in the street. 

There had been an odd abundance of owls around the area for sometime, and everyone had been puzzled by it. The news held almost daily broadcasts of the strange sightings, and showing witnesses who assumed it had something to do with global warming and human activities. I knew much better than to assume villagers had chased the birds out of rapidly disappearing forests, but had never commented on the same in anyone's presence. Vernon and his fear of magic had caused him to only angrily mutter about it now and then. 

 The serenity of the scene was enough to put me to sleep. I wished the window was open but Vernon had insisted that all windows be kept shut in order to keep off the owls and their letters from intruding his peace and quiet.

True, I could have fallen asleep, but I was too troubled to do so. Eleven years after Lily's death and I was still shaky on my feet.

Sometimes, guilt plagued me mercilessly as I wondered whether it was my fault Lily had died. Maybe if I hadn't been so rude to her she wouldn't have been so keen to leave home. Maybe if I hadn't been so nasty to her then the universe would have taken this into account and decided to spare Lily, just because of one simple good deed.

How I loathed the universe for doing this; I so dearly wished I could take all the mean things I said back, so that maybe that stupid universe would have given a good deed back.

A ray of sunlight lazily filed into the room. Vernon's eyes were flitting open then sliding shut again. The only sound I could hear, apart from Dudley crunching noisily on his biscuits, was the sound of my own irregular heartbeat. It was a near miracle, how everything looked so calm outside, and yet I was exploding on the inside.

Out of nowhere, one single letter floated into the room, swirled around and brushed across Vernon's face. His eyes flew open in alarm almost instantly.

"What in the bloody world–" he began, but a terrible rumbling sound cut him off. The entire house seemed to shake from underneath, rattling the frames of pictures and causing several vases to slide off their tables and smash to the ground.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, countless numbers of letters began shooting out of the boarded up fireplace. They burst in through the windows; they forced their way into the letter slots; they raced out from underneath doors and ventilation shafts. It was quite an awe-striking thing to watch, dozens upon dozens of letters flying around our home madly as though possessed by demons.

Dudley ran towards me, cowering in fright. Harry, however, seemed more than ecstatic about this, and was struggling to catch a letter, all the while being chased by Vernon, who now resembled something like a gigantic rhinoceros.

"GET BACK HERE, BOY!" Vernon roared at Harry as he ran out of the room, clutching a letter. Harry was, without much doubt, faster than Vernon, so he did manage to get out, but Vernon followed him closely and was soon dragging him back inside.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" asked Dudley, more frightened than ever.

I couldn't speak. I was too shocked, too drained of energy and most of all too lacking in the wanting to understand what was happening.

"WE LEAVE, NOW!" yelled Vernon over all the sounds of shuffling paper. He didn't even say where, he simply threw us all in the car and drove off, his face beetroot red with fury.