MidReal Story
harry
Scenario: harry
Create my version of this story
The first letter arrived at breakfast.
Uncle Vernon wrenched it from Aunt Petunia’s hand and read it with his lips moving.
His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights.
And it didn’t stop there.
More and more letters arrived each day, in the same way, slipping under the front door, and arriving in the milk bottles.
Even a few tumbles down the chimney.
As a matter of fact, on the last day before term started, three turned up at once, one as the Dursleys were sitting down to breakfast, one as Aunt Petunia was getting Dudley up, and one as Harry himself got the mail from the mail slot.
But when Uncle Vernon saw them all, at breakfast, he gave one yell and flipped the table over.
Aunt Petunia had to wrestle Dudley into the next room to shut him up, which she finally did with some extra chocolate cake.
Harry, on the other hand, was so happy that he went back to school with a smile on his face.
The next day they came in twos and threes; three hundred and sixty-five letters by the end of the day, all addressed to Harry.
A few even arrived by owl post.
Uncle Vernon didn’t sleep that night; he stayed up and prowled around the house.
By the next morning, he was fit to burst.
The whole of the living room was full of letters and there were a few in the fridge.
While Uncle Vernon griped and complained about his treatment at work that day, Harry couldn’t help but feel that it was an improvement.
This went on for three days.
Uncle Vernon had to go to work in the end, but Harry was allowed out to get some things from the corner store.
The Dursleys were so worried that somebody would see them take him out in their car that they made him walk.
By the time they got back from the store, another two hundred letters arrived.
By Saturday morning, there were so many letters that they filled the cupboard under the stairs.
The Dursleys had decided not to answer the door anymore.
When Uncle Vernon realized that the letters were coming from the fireplace chimney, he boarded it up, not caring how they would cook dinner now.
But as more and more letters came, Vernon started getting more and more desperate.
When he realized that the letters were coming through the mail slot in the front door, he boarded it up as well.
They even tried hiding in the kitchen and the cupboard under the stairs, but it didn’t work.
The letters followed them.
By Thursday, the family was getting desperate.
They had no choice but to escape.
On Friday morning, Vernons car tires blew out while he was turning a corner to avoid a group of old ladies reading the sign outside the bakery which said “Happy Birthday Harry.”
The Dursleys fled the house with their things packed in suitcases and moved into a hotel.
But even there it wasn’t safe; the letters came through their bedroom window.
Then Uncle Vernon moved them onto a small island along the coast.
It took Harry several hours of swimming around the island before he found their new hiding place: a small abandoned shack surrounded by tall grass.
Harry had been asleep on an old sofa in the living room when Vernon woke him up by shaking his shoulder.
It was almost midnight; Harry would turn eleven soon.
Uncle Vernon led Harry out of the shack and onto a small wooden jetty which jutted out into the sea on one side of the island.
The family stood at the end of the jetty as the storm raged on around them, with the waves crashing against it and threatening to wash them away at any moment.
They could barely see the shack over the wall of rain between them and it.
A bright flash of lightning lit up the night sky for a fraction of a second, followed by a loud clap of thunder above their heads.
Uncle Vernon looked around nervously and then pushed his family off the edge of the jetty into a small rowboat below.
He then jumped down after them and started rowing toward the shack as fast as he could.
After the Dursleys got out of the boat, Uncle Vernon pulled it up onto the beach and then ran into the shack after them without saying a word.
The inside of the shack wasn’t any better than its exterior; it had a leaky ceiling from which water dripped into a few barrels on the floor, leaving a strong mildew smell behind that would never go away.
The ground floor consisted of one small room with a few pieces of furniture scattered around: a table, two chairs, a sofa, an empty wardrobe, a cupboard, and a fireplace.
