"What… what does this mean, Dudley?" Harry asked, his expression completely blank. He could read the words on the parchment, but together, they formed a meaning so outlandish he couldn't comprehend it. It felt less like a real letter and more like an elaborate April Fool's joke.
"You don't understand?" Dudley looked at Harry, surprised. He had expected the letter to trigger some kind of recognition in his cousin, but it was clear Harry was just as bewildered as he was.
"Understand what?" Harry retorted, his voice edged with frustration. "I mean, this is a joke, right? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Wizard Headmaster? None of this is real."
Dudley looked at Harry, his gaze serious and penetrating. He blinked once, activating his spiritual perception.
Deep within Harry's soul, that same peculiar energy was surging—a power that was not abundant but was remarkably pure. It was similar to the spirituality of a Beyonder, but fundamentally different.
If the letter was true, then a hidden world of magic existed right under their noses.
He recalled his time in that other, bizarre world. Despite the horrors that lurked in the shadows, most of its inhabitants lived their lives completely unaware. To them, it was just a normal world. Could it be the same here? A hidden reality, a magical world concealed beneath the mundane?
"Come with me."
After a moment of thought, Dudley opened the cupboard door and crept to the kitchen, pressing his eye to the keyhole. Harry followed suit, but with the keyhole already occupied, he had to lie flat on the floor and peek through the crack under the door.
They know something, Dudley thought, a certainty solidifying in his mind. His parents' reaction to Harry's letter proved it. They knew about this "Wizarding World." Yet, when he had observed them with his Spirit Vision, he hadn't seen a trace of that peculiar magical energy. If that energy was the mark of a wizard, then his parents were ordinary people.
"Vernon, what are we going to do?" Petunia's voice trembled from inside the kitchen. "Have they been watching us all this time? Look at the address—they even knew Harry was living in the cupboard! Oh, my goodness…"
"Watching us, spying on us, maybe even following us! Damn them!" Vernon roared.
The confirmation sent a jolt through Dudley.
"But what do we do?" Petunia continued, her voice fraught with panic. "Should we write back? Tell them we don't want Harry to go to that… that place?"
"No! We are not writing back!" Vernon said firmly. "We'll pretend we never received it. We'll act like nothing happened. It's the best way!"
"Maybe if they don't get a reply, they'll assume he's refused," he reasoned. "Yes, that's the best way!"
"This… but…" Petunia hesitated, clearly unconvinced.
Outside the door, Dudley's brow furrowed. This was not going as he'd expected. Harry, still on the floor, looked even more anxious. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew his aunt and uncle were trying to keep something from him.
Knock, knock.
Dudley rapped on the kitchen door. He needed to talk to them, to understand what was going on.
The door was yanked open violently. Vernon's large, purple face loomed over them. Harry, still on the floor, found himself staring up at his uncle's enormous feet.
"Dad," Dudley said, his voice calm and gentle, "I think we need to talk about this." He subtly used his power to soothe his father's raging emotions.
"Talk? There's nothing to talk about! The letter was sent to the wrong address. We've already burned it," Vernon said, his tone much calmer than before. "Now, you don't need to worry about it."
"Impossible!" Harry shouted from the floor. "It wasn't wrong! The address was '4 Privet Drive, The Cupboard Under the Stairs'! How could that be wrong?"
"SHUT UP!" Vernon's temper, which Dudley had just managed to pacify, exploded again. "I said it was wrong, so it was wrong!" He took a deep breath. "However… Dudley suggested you move into the small bedroom. We've considered it, and you can move in today. You've gotten too big for the cupboard." He glared down at Harry. "Now, that's settled. Not another word about the letter!"
"Dad," Dudley began slowly, "I know you don't want Harry to see the letter, but…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own identical envelope.
"Actually, I received one, too."
The air in the room seemed to solidify.
Vernon and Petunia stared, their faces masks of pure, unadulterated horror. They looked as if some invisible force had sucked all the oxygen from the room.
"Oh, my goodness… oh, my goodness!" Vernon stammered, shaking his head in disbelief. "How could my son receive a letter from that dreadful place! Impossible! This is impossible!"
Petunia's mouth had formed a perfect, silent 'O'. She stared at the letter in Dudley's hand, utterly speechless.
Dudley's gaze swept over them. His father's reaction was predictable: shock, disbelief, fear. But his mother's expression was far more complex. There was shock and fear, yes, but underneath it all, there was a flicker of something else—a hint of hope, a glimmer of unutterable pride. It was an incredibly complex mix of emotions, one he wouldn't have been able to decipher if he weren't a Beyonder.
"So," Dudley said, his voice cutting through the tense silence, "shouldn't you tell me what's going on? According to this, I've been accepted to a magic school called Hogwarts. Have you heard of it?" He unfolded the letter, showing them its contents.
"Oh, my goodness," Petunia gasped. Her body swayed, and she collapsed onto the nearby sofa.
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