Through the Looking Glass

Chapter 2

Owl Post

With the Dursleys, sitting down for a meal was never a pleasant experience. Harry had learned a long time ago that it was best to keep his head down and his mouth shut, while keeping clear of Dudley's flatware. Looking over the table, Harry noticed that his aunt was serving roast beef, potatoes and gravy, Yorkshire pudding, peas, and chocolate cake for dessert. No diet food! This must mean that Smeltings had finally found a pair of knickerbockers to fit Dudley.

Dudley did deserve some credit. He had grown taller. Now he was as tall as Uncle Vernon was. His stomach didn't droop over his belt as far, and he was no longer as wide as he was tall. But he still had two chins, and fingers that reminded Harry of sausages. At least he no longer had to use a bench, and he could go back to using a proper chair. A good word to describe him now was 'beefy'.

Harry quietly took a small serving of roast beef and a potato. He pushed the food around his plate. He tried a small bite of the roast, but he could not seem to swallow properly. He laid the knife and fork aside. He really wasn't very hungry anyway.

"What do they feed you at that freak school you go to boy? Don't look like you've had a proper meal in weeks. Now Dudley here, he knows how to enjoy his food, he does. He wants us to get our money's worth from his school." Uncle Vernon continued to talk, on and on about how Dudley made sure the school didn't cheat them. He hadn't noticed that Harry was no longer paying any attention.

He was staring at his plate, when out of the corner of his eye he caught his aunt acting odd. Harry couldn't quite place it. She seemed slightly jumpy, as if she was expecting something to happen. Her hands were in constant motion. She went from fingering her pearl necklace, to fiddling with a loose thread on the placemat, and then on to straightening the serving dishes on the table. Her eyes were darting all around too. Back and forth from the window, to Harry and then to her husband. What was wrong with her, he wondered. Maybe she was excited to have him back for the summer. Harry almost smiled at this thought.

Time seemed to have stopped. Harry felt as if dinner would never end. His uncle kept prattling on about Dudley's success at boxing, how many friends he had made at school, and what good grades he was getting - endless dribble Harry was sure must be all lies. If Dudley's behavior during primary school was any indication, Harry was certain he was beating up the younger kids, forcing them to give over their pocket money so he and his cronies could go to the nearest sweet shop.

Finally, his aunt told him to clear the table so she could bring out the dessert. He saw light at the end of the tunnel and rose to clear away the dishes. Dudley was almost finished by the time Harry got to his plate. Since you never removed food from him, Harry had to wait impatiently for him to finish. When his aunt sliced the cake and served everyone, Harry was so jumpy, he was unable to take a bite.

After the Dursleys were finished with their dessert, Harry was planning to excuse himself. Much, to his dismay, Uncle Vernon pointed his fat finger at him and said, "We need to set some new rules for you this summer, boy. I have already made out a schedule for you that covers every day we are stuck with you."

Oh no, here it comes. Harry had known that there would be some fallout after the talk from The Order. He was preparing for his uncle's usual tirade when a tawny owl came swooping through the window. Harry jumped out of his chair and had his wand out in a heartbeat, pointing at the owl's chest. It circled the room - just missing Dudley - and dropped a letter on the table in front of him. The owl calmly perched on top of the telly. Harry's heart was racing, memories of last summer rushing back to him. He checked outside the window to make certain no one was about, and only then did he return to his seat.

"I will not have any of those bloody pigeons flying in and out of this house, like last summer!" Uncle Vernon eyed the owl, looking as if he expected it to attack at any moment. He had set a new record though. Harry had been back from school only four hours and his uncle had already turned purple. Dudley was whimpering, his hands on top of his head. He looked like a man trying to keep his toupee on in a stiff breeze. Aunt Petunia acted as if she had expected this to occur.

Harry sighed, put his wand away, and replied, "I can't stop the owls from coming. They will come whenever anyone sends me mail." Harry thought his uncle had already grasped this concept. Apparently, he was thicker than Harry had imagined.

Harry didn't recognize the owl. It didn't appear to be from Hogwarts. He examined the envelope. It was gray and addressed to him in black ink:

Mr. Harry Potter

The Kitchen

Number Four Privet Drive

Little Whining, Surrey

It seemed thick and the stationary was expensive, something like his school letters. He turned it over, but he didn't recognize the wax seal on the back. It was black, with a large 'B' imbedded in it. Harry's hands started to shake and his stomach suddenly fell to the floor. A small voice in his head said, 'Don't worry, it probably isn't what you imagine.'

"Well Potter, did you already use your 'unnaturalness' and get caught? If you get chucked out of that school, don't expect to come back here and live. You will need to find somewhere else to go." Uncle Vernon looked extremely happy. You would have thought Christmas had come months early.

Harry dropped the letter on the table, as if it had just burned his fingers. He could only stare at it. He couldn't bring himself to open it. It couldn't be from...it just couldn't.

"Oh just give the bloody thing here. I want to know when you're leaving." Uncle Vernon was reaching across the table, his fingers almost on the envelope, when Harry pulled it out of his reach.

"It's not addressed to you. It's for me." Harry was still not anxious to read the letter, but he would not let his uncle read it. It was probably something he would have to explain anyway. Harry sat there, contemplating the envelope, turning it over in his hands. There was no need to be afraid; he really needed to get control of himself.

"Just open the blasted letter!" Uncle Vernon was starting to turn purple again. Harry didn't care. He would open it, but it wasn't going to be just to please his uncle.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" Aunt Petunia said this in such a small voice, Harry once more wondered if he was going crazy.

Harry looked up and saw Dudley and Uncle Vernon's mouths open and close - like goldfish out of water. It would have been funny, if Harry didn't feel so light-headed. He turned to his aunt. He wanted to see if she was joking. The look in her eyes was hard for Harry to read. He saw an odd mixture of fear and - was it sympathy? For the second time in his life, Harry's mind once again registered the fact that this woman was his mother's sister, his only family, and connected to him like no one else. He licked his lips and nodded his head.

Petunia gently picked up the letter, broke the wax seal, and pulled out a sheet of paper. She took a deep breath, unfolded the letter, and paused. She raised her head and looked at Vernon. She almost seemed to try to be warning him that he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

She coughed, took a drink of water, and cleared her throat. Then she began to read.

Messers. Blackgrave, Bode, and Belladonna

Attorneys At Law

435 Diagon Alley

London, England

June 22, 1996

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

We were distressed to hear of the loss of your Godfather, Sirius Black. Please accept our heartfelt condolences. Our office has had the privilege of handling the Black Family's legal matters for several centuries.

It is our duty to inform you that as an heir of Mr. Black's, we respectfully request your presence at the reading of his will. The reading is scheduled for July 2, 1996 at 10:00 at our offices in Diagon Alley.

Your headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, has informed us that, for your safety, you will not be able to attend in person. We are aware of the fact that you have in your possession a special mirror that you received from Mr. Black. Please send it back immediately with our owl, you have my personal promise we will return the mirror without mishap. Although this is highly irregular, we will make special arrangements for you to use this to 'attend' the reading.

Sincerely,

Mr. Blaze Belladonna

Attorney At Law

P.S. I have been a close friend of Sirius' for some time and I know how much you meant to him. He was a good and honorable man. I am truly sorry for your loss. If there is any way I can assist you, please let me know.

Harry sat in his chair as if frozen. His hands were on the table, clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles were white. His breath was coming in quick, shorts gasps. He had his eyes closed - trying not to remember the last time that he saw Sirius' face.

He couldn't look at the Dursleys, but he was fairly sure that he could guess their expressions. Dudley would be scared to death, as if a spell would somehow fly out of the envelope and hit him. Uncle Vernon's moustache would be twitching, his brows, drawn together, and his eyes would be trying to bore a hole through Harry, to make him disappear. Aunt Petunia, well he wasn't sure about her anymore.

Harry looked over at his aunt, and she seemed extremely calm. "Well, I wondered how long it would take the Dementors to find him."

"What?" Uncle Vernon exploded.

The noise was deafening. The owl hooted, and took flight. It tried to nip Dudley on the ear. He immediately jumped up, covered his ears and fled to his bedroom, screaming all the way. Harry was certain Dudley had never moved so quickly.

His uncle, in trying to protect Dudley, stood up and started waiving his arms in the air like a windmill in order to ward off the lethal owl attack. At the same time, he was screaming at his wife to get the rolling pin so he could kill the monstrous beast. His aunt had grabbed the broom and had started to swing it at the owl.

Harry couldn't take it any more. He jumped up from the table and ran upstairs. The owl, seeming to be surveying his options, followed him up and flew just before he slammed the door shut.