Chapter 2
The first letter arrived exactly one week before Harry’s eleventh birthday.
Which meant Dudley was already unbearable.
“Thirty-seven.”
Dudley sat in the middle of the living room surrounded by presents.
“Thirty-seven presents.”
Harry looked up from where he was helping his sister peel potatoes.
“Tragic.”
His sister nodded solemnly.
“Absolutely devastating.”
Dudley glared.
“Last year I got thirty-eight.”
“Oh, the humanity,” she said.
Harry snorted.
Aunt Petunia shot them both a warning look.
Neither stopped smiling.
Dudley huffed and returned to counting his presents.
For someone who had thirty-seven gifts, he seemed remarkably unhappy.
His sister leaned closer.
“If I ever get thirty-seven presents, I give you permission to knock me unconscious.”
“Only if I get the same permission.”
“Deal.”
They shook on it.
⸻
The mail arrived just after breakfast.
Harry wasn’t paying attention.
His sister was.
She always paid attention.
Especially when she was bored.
And she was very bored.
Which was how she noticed Aunt Petunia freeze halfway to the table.
Completely freeze.
The letters in her hand trembled.
His sister immediately straightened.
Harry noticed a second later.
“Aunt Petunia?”
No answer.
The room was silent.
Uncle Vernon lowered his newspaper.
“Petunia?”
Slowly, she looked down at the envelope she was holding.
The color drained from her face.
Harry had never seen anyone go pale that quickly.
Then she flipped the envelope over.
And looked even worse.
His sister stood.
“What is it?”
Petunia shoved the letter behind her back.
“Nothing.”
That was a lie.
Everyone knew it.
Even Dudley stopped counting presents.
“Who’s it for?” his sister asked.
“No one.”
Harry frowned.
“You don’t usually hide letters from no one.”
Petunia’s eyes snapped toward him.
For a moment Harry thought she looked frightened.
Then the expression vanished.
“It doesn’t concern you.”
Which meant it absolutely concerned them.
His sister and Harry exchanged a glance.
Years of living together had created an entire language between them.
That glance meant:
Something’s going on.
Petunia hurried from the room.
The letter disappeared with her.
The front door slammed.
Silence followed.
Then—
“That was weird.”
Harry nodded.
“Very weird.”
“Do you think she’s hiding treasure?”
“No.”
“A secret child?”
“No.”
“A dragon?”
Harry looked at her.
She looked back.
“Fine,” she admitted. “Probably not a dragon.”
⸻
The next morning, there were three letters.
The morning after that, there were twelve.
By the end of the week, letters were arriving everywhere.
Under doors.
Through windows.
Down the chimney.
Harry found one in the bathroom sink.
His sister discovered one inside the flour tin.
Another landed directly in Dudley’s cereal.
Dudley screamed.
His sister laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.
“What is wrong with you?” Dudley shouted.
“They’re stalking you.”
“They’re not for me!”
“Exactly.”
⸻
The twins were forbidden from opening any of them.
Which naturally made them desperate to know what was inside.
“They have our names on them.”
His sister was pacing their room.
Harry lay across his bed.
Thinking.
All the letters had been addressed to them.
Not Dudley.
Not Vernon.
Not Petunia.
Them.
Harry Potter.
And his sister.
The same neat emerald-green ink every time.
The same strange yellowish envelopes.
The same wax seal.
“What if it’s a school?” Harry asked.
His sister stopped pacing.
“A weird school.”
“Maybe.”
“They seem very determined.”
Harry laughed.
That was one way to describe it.
A sudden tapping interrupted them.
Both twins froze.
The sound came again.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
His sister slowly turned toward the window.
“No.”
Harry sat up.
“No?”
“No.”
“Why no?”
“Because normal things don’t tap on windows three floors up.”
The tapping came again.
Louder this time.
The twins approached the glass together.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And stopped.
“Oh.”
Harry blinked.
“Oh.”
Perched outside their window sat a large snowy owl.
It stared at them with bright golden eyes.
Completely unbothered by the fact it was balancing on a windowsill several stories above the ground.
In its beak were two envelopes.
His sister looked at Harry.
Harry looked at her.
Then they both looked back at the owl.
The owl blinked.
His sister pointed.
“Now that’s interesting.”
For once, Harry couldn’t argue.