NOVEL WEB Chapter 5: Chapter 5
[Chapter Size: 1900 Words.]
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Aunt Petunia returned to her room, and Harry imagined she was in a bad mood.
If things were as Harry suspected, Aunt Petunia had watched her sister get chosen for a school of magic while she herself had been left behind. And now, she was seeing Harry receive the same opportunity. She must have been utterly miserable.
However, Harry wasn't too concerned about Aunt Petunia's distress. She had excellent self-control and would likely compose herself by noon. What preoccupied him more at the moment was the owl, Aunt Petunia had chased it away. So how was he supposed to send a reply?
As he mulled over this dilemma, Harry opened the door and stepped outside for a walk.
The moment he did, the large owl was perched atop the street sign just outside the yard, directly in front of the door.
In broad daylight, instead of finding a place to rest, the owl lingered, watching the house. That was truly magical.
"Are you waiting for my response?" Harry walked up to the owl and asked curiously. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a bit foolish. Why did he think the owl could understand and respond to him? After his experience talking to the snake at the zoo, he had tried speaking with other small animals, but none had ever answered.
To his surprise, the owl seemed to understand. It hooted twice and nodded.
"Well, that's interesting," Harry said with a grin. "Wait here for a moment."
He turned and ran back inside, heading straight to his room. Sitting at his small desk, he began drafting a response.
"Dear… hmm, should I address this to McGonagall or Dumbledore? Well, the last signature on the letter was McGonagall, so it must be her!" thought Harry.
Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,
I am honored to receive your letter. I'm very excited to attend Hogwarts and study magic, to become a witch, or is it a wizard? It should be a wizard. Anyway, I do have a problem.
I don't know how to get to school, nor do I know where to buy my supplies. Even worse, I don't have any money to pay for tuition. I'm not sure if the school can help with my situation, but I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
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After reviewing his letter and making minor adjustments to ensure it sounded polite, Harry felt satisfied. Just as he was about to go downstairs, he heard tapping on his bedroom window.
Turning around, he saw that the large owl had returned and was now perched on the windowsill.
"Amazing!" Harry murmured.
Despite all the magical things that had happened to him recently, he still found this owl incredibly fascinating. It was so intelligent that it barely seemed like an animal at all.
"Could it be a transformed wizard?" He entertained the thought for a brief moment but quickly dismissed it as unlikely.
Opening the window, he handed the folded letter to the owl. It took the envelope in its beak, turned, spread its massive wings, and soared into the sky.
"If it flies around so openly, someone might shoot it down with a hunting rifle or a slingshot," Harry thought.
The British postal system was notoriously unreliable, so Harry didn't expect a response for at least three to five days.
However, it seemed the wizarding world's postal service was far superior to that of Muggles.
That evening, after dinner, Harry lay in bed reading a comic book when he once again heard the familiar sound of tapping at his window.
When he looked up, he nearly jumped.
The outside was completely dark, and with only his small bedside lamp illuminating the room, everything around him was shrouded in shadows. Outside the window, he saw nothing but a black silhouette staring at him with a pair of glowing green eyes, like tiny lanterns.
For a split second, Harry almost screamed, until he realized it was just the owl.
"A response this soon?" he muttered in surprise.
Switching on the main light, he hurried to the window and opened it. Sure enough, the large owl was there again, holding another parchment envelope in its beak, identical to the first.
Harry took the letter, and without hesitation, the owl took off once more, disappearing silently into the night.
"Kind of cute, actually," he thought.
He unfolded the letter and saw the now-familiar handwriting:
Dear Mr. Potter,
I am pleased to hear from you. We are aware of the difficulties you are facing.
Do not worry; we will send the school's Keeper of Keys and Grounds to your home to assist with your preparations before the start of term. Any financial concerns will also be addressed at that time.
Our Keeper will visit you between 11:00 PM and midnight on July 5th.
Sincerely,
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
P.S. Our Keeper of Keys is a very large and imposing man. Please do not be alarmed by his appearance, he is a true gentleman.
"Exceptionally large and imposing?" Harry was intrigued. Could this Keeper of Keys be taller than Dennis Rodman?
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The next morning, Harry mentioned that Hogwarts' Keeper of Keys would be coming to pick him up the following night.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed calm, it was obvious they had discussed the matter the night before. Only Dudley appeared surprised.
"Hogwarts? So, you're telling me the letter you got yesterday wasn't a joke? That school actually exist?" he asked.
"So far, it seems like it does," Harry nodded.
"Then… you're not going to Smeltings with me?" Dudley asked, looking genuinely startled. A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes, the kind of panic he felt when he imagined how terrible his test scores would be without Harry's help.
The fact that his cousin was going to another school didn't really bother Dudley. In truth, even though they had attended the same primary school, they were never in the same class and rarely played together.
Harry gave him a knowing look and said, "Yeah, don't worry, I've thought about it."
Dudley and Harry had a sort of unspoken understanding. With just a glance, Dudley knew that Harry had figured out his concern and had a solution in mind, so he dropped the subject. Instead, he shoveled food into his mouth and, with a touch of amusement, asked,
"What kind of school is it, anyway? I don't think I've ever heard of it before. Do they teach magic tricks and juggling? That would suit you, Harry."
Harry's fingers were incredibly nimble, even without real magic, he was skilled at sleight of hand, particularly card tricks, which had fooled Dudley more than once. Unfortunately for Dudley, who excelled in sports, mastering those tricks was beyond him.
It seemed that Dudley had misunderstood Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as some kind of circus training academy. Of course, the word wizardry should have clued him in, but with Uncle Vernon as his role model, Dudley wasn't exactly sharp when it came to nuance. For the longest time, he had even thought Harry's little tricks were real magic.
"Well, I imagine there are a few differences," Harry said with a grin, choosing not to explain further.
As Harry had predicted, Dudley didn't seem to care much. After breakfast, he asked Harry if he wanted to go out and play. When Harry declined, Dudley left to hang out with his friends.
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On a summer day in July, in the UK, only children would willingly run around outdoors.
Time always moves slowly when you're waiting, and for Harry, that day felt like an entire year. He couldn't stop glancing at the clock, willing the sun to set, willing nightfall to come.
Aunt Petunia spent the entire day in a daze. That evening, while washing dishes, she was so distracted that she accidentally broke a plate. Uncle Vernon was unusually gentle as he comforted her, as if he understood how complicated her emotions must have been about what was about to happen.
The only person in the family who remained unchanged was Dudley. He was as oblivious as ever, he went out to play after dinner, came back, ate again, then dragged a distracted Harry into a video game match. Harry easily defeated him, prompting Dudley to swear revenge next time before stomping off to bed.
For an eleven-year-old, ten o'clock was already considered late.
Harry, however, felt wide awake. And apparently, so did Aunt Petunia.
Although Uncle Vernon seemed a bit irritated, he still chose to stay in the living room, sitting beside Aunt Petunia, waiting with her.
With no one watching TV, the room was uncomfortably silent. The tension in the air was thick and strange.
Harry decided to break the silence.
"So… my mum was a witch?"
But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized it was the wrong thing to say.
"Yes! A witch! Ha ha! A witch! Just like you!"
Aunt Petunia had been suppressing her emotions all day, but now, Harry's words seemed to snap something inside her. Her green eyes locked onto him, and she spoke through clenched teeth.
"Just like you, she got a letter and then went off to Hogwarts. Oh, how wonderful! Witches can turn teacups into rats and dung into turtles! My parents were so thrilled! Hah! Imagine how delighted they were to have a witch in the family!"
It was as if she had finally found an outlet for years of pent-up resentment.
"Then she met that Potter… then she married him… and then she had you. But I suppose wizards aren't as great as they think they are, are they? Because suddenly, they were dead! Both of them!"
A single tear slipped from Aunt Petunia's eye, but she wiped it away so quickly that Harry almost missed it.
"So we had no choice but to take you in. Harry, we've been good to you all these years, haven't we?"
The sudden question caught Harry off guard. He hesitated, then nodded.
"Hah! Well, the truth is, I never liked you!" Aunt Petunia stared at him intensely. "Just like I never liked your mother! Because you're both… monsters!"
The moment she spat out that last word, it was as if all the energy drained from her body. She slumped into Uncle Vernon's arms, looking utterly spent, like a balloon that had just deflated.
Harry was speechless.
He had just learned something new, his parents hadn't died in a car accident, as he had always been told. But now clearly wasn't the time to press the issue.
"I'm sorry, Harry…" Aunt Petunia murmured suddenly. But with her face buried in Uncle Vernon's chest, her voice was muffled and barely audible.
"It's… it's fine. It's fine," Harry mumbled, waving his hands awkwardly, then realizing she couldn't even see him.
The room fell into an awkward silence once more.
Time dragged painfully on.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the clock struck eleven.
Just as Harry started to wonder whether this Keeper of Keys would show up at the very last minute, at precisely 11:30 PM, there was a knock at the door.
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