CHAPTER THREE
❛letters❜

❝HE IS MAD IN THE HEAD.❞

██████ Ophelia will be in trouble. She can see it from the venomous glare, her future self is receiving from future uncle Vernon. It was a dangerous one, it took her a few second to calm down, she breathed in once and breath out after it.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Ophelia. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He glared at Ophelia, in a flash of eyes, a whimper escape Ophelia as a red mark took place on her left cheek. Ophelia winced, biting her lower lip, licking off the blood she caused on it by biting so hard while trying to not cry.

The slap she saw her future self getting, was enough to make her flinched. It was as painful as the previous she imagined.
Why does they always hit her? Dudley is always doing bad things, he punched in her ribs yet they don't care. Its made her eyes getting teary ─ which many in the room noticed and did not like. They felt anger rising in and were disgust by the Dursley whom called themselves family.

"How dare he slapped her!" Damian said with anger. It made him very angry. He never once got hit or slap by Bruce, his father and seeing Ophelia's own uncle hurting her made him feel something
protectiveness, it was like a bothersome need to make sure that she's okay, everytime.

Bruce was taken back by his blood son's anger. He rarely saw Damian acted out like this. Of course, the young Robin was
always sharp tongue and cold to others
but right now it was like an big brother
protecting his younger sister. Bruce was
also angry at the girl getting slapped, its was not even deserve ─ not that kids has to be hit, of course not. Surely Batman could break one of his precious rule for his soon to be daughter.

He managed to say, "Go, cupboard, stay, no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

"They starved you." Harley looked at the thin girl. Harley was many things, yes she was a villain that helped Joker but abusing and starving any child was even beyong evilness! It was pure sickness.

Ophelia lowered her eyes. Usually she would try to steal food but there are times where she could not and have to sleep with the stomatch empty for days.

Tim never felt more awake than right now. Maybe murder is not such a bad answer after all. Specially after seeing the way Jason narrowed his damn eyes.
When he is angry its seem green and when he is calm, his eyes seemed blue.
Tim sighed, Jason Todd was pissed.

Ophelia lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing she had a watch. She didn't know what time it was and she couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, she couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food or a cream for her cheek. A bitter chuckles escape her lips as she wiped her teary eyes.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Ophelia, her longest ever punishment. By the times she was allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

"Tch. Bunch of villains." Harley scoffed, swinging her bat.

"Pull that thing back." Bruce told her firmly, he did not even need to look at her to know that she was using a bat.

"Oh, Basty!" Harley whined.

Ophelia was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang,
who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Ophelia Hunting.

"You are not animal." Lois said firmly, as she looked at Ophelia with live. The girl in question, blushed shyly and nodded.

This was why Ophelia spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Ophelia, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"Its funny actually. He is going to a private school and is dumber than a monkey while you are going to a public school and is smarter than him." Duke smiled at Ophelia.

"Well said, young master Duke." Jason looked betrayed as Alfred complimented
Duke. If it wad him who had insult the pig kid, he would have been scold.

Jason sulked.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Ophelia. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Ophelia. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it, it might be sick."

Jason's sulking came to an end ad he threw his head in the back and laughed.
"Oh. My. God." He grinned.

"That was sassy." Selina chuckled.

"I agree!" Jonathan smiled.

Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said. One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Ophelia at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Ophelia watch television and gave her a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

"Just how many cats does the woman have?"

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knicker bockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said
gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown up. Ophelia didn't trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

Jon held his stomatch, he felt his rib aching from how hard he was laughing.
Jason was no better, he was having so much fun listening to Ophelia mentally insulting Dudley.

"Ickle Dudleykins? Who call their kid that?" Clark looked pertubed.

"I never like the 'kins' in names." Poison Ivy commented.

"Ivykins!"

"This is gold." Stephanie grinned.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Ophelia went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. She went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" She asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if she dared to ask a question. "Your new school uniform," she said. Ophelia looked in the bowl again. "Oh," she said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

"Not funny anymore." Dick's smiled fade away.

"How mean." Cassandra signed.

Ophelia seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. She sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on her first day at Stonewall High, like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Ophelia's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

Ophelia looked at the screen and signed. She wish someone would take her away from the dursley. Far away from them.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. "Make Ophelia get it."

"Get the mail, Ophelia."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

"Some parents. They can't even educate their son well." Selina rolled her eyes.

Ophelia dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and a letter for Ophelia. Ophelia picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives, maybe the library since she usually sneaked to read. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Miss. O. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

"The person who sent that letter know that she slept in a cupboard and does not even do something?!" Lois clenched her fist angrily. People are worser than despicable.

Ophelia stared at the future letter. She will have a letter. Someone write to her. To her.

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Ophelia saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter O.

"Four animals." Damian whispered.

Alfred smiled mysteriously.

Thanatos who was lazing around, turned an eye to Alfred. "What a strange human." He whispered.

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. Ophelia went back to the kitchen, still staring at her letter. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. "Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk." "Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, she got something!"

"Fucking snitch!" Barbara hissed, she never dislike someone as much as she disliked that family on the screen.

"Language, Miss Gourdon." Barbara pouted and nodded. "I am sorry, Alfred."

Ophelia was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Uncle Vernon. "That's mine!" said Ophelia, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open
with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge. "P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

"Oh, its getting interest." Murmured Tim with a grinned.

Ophelia saw a lot of empty cup of coffee near him. Is this healthy? She wondered, a hint of curiousity in her cruciatus eyes
and her fingers playing with each other.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise."Vernon! Oh my goodness!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Ophelia and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. "I want to read that letter," he said loudly. want to read it," said Ophelia furiously, "as it's mine." "Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Ophelia didn't move.

"Thats a bit impressive." Stephanie grinned.

"Well the letter is hers. Its understable." Dick replied.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.
"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Ophelia and Dudley by the
scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Ophelia and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Opheloa, sitting on the floor to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Stupid ugly rat. I could go on a long list of insult for him." Harley hissed. "Can I play with the pig if we catch him in the future, basty?"

Bruce let out a sighed and gave up. "Yes."

"Holy sh-" Jason side eyes Alfred. "Moly." He changed his second word. "Holy moly." He repeated to himself.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the adress how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?" "Watching spying, might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly. "But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

Ophelia could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen. "No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything.."

"But-" "I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Its seem my assumption may be right. Bruce crossed his arms, his cold blue eyes lowered. Witches and wizards. He thought to himself.

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Ophelia in his cupboard. "Where's my letter?" said Ophelia, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly.
"I have burned it." "It was not a mistake," said Ophelia angrily, "it had my cupboard on it." "SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Okay. This is weird. He is planning something." Jason ftowned.

"Er yes, Ophelia about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it.. we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"That spoiled brat had second bedroom and Ophelia still had to sleep in a damm cupboard?!" Selina feel like scratching those people with her claws.

Second bedroom. Second bedroom. A damn second bedroom- Damian was livid. He clenched his fist. And took a deep breath. He should not let his damn
impulsiveness get the hold of him. He had the feeling that he will be getting angry frequently while watching the life of Ophelia Potter. A little girl that just wormed her way in. He tsked. "Tt."

"Why?" said Ophelia. Stop asking! She scolded herself. She did not want to get slap again. It hurt a lot.

"Aww, the poor baby." Harley went to Opjelia and stroked her hair gently. She ignored the glare she received from the blood son of Batman and simply coos at the vulnerable little girl.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."
The Dursleys' house had four bed─ rooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors(usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Ophelia one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the bed and stared around her

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don't
want her in there..I need that room make her get out..." Ophelia sighed and stretched out on the bed.

Yesterday she'd have given anything to be up here. Today she'd rather be back in her cupboard with that letter than up here without it. Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the green house roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Ophelia was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing she'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

"They are so suspicious, i swear." Barbara shook her head in disbelief.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice
to Ophelia, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with
his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Miss. o. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-'"

"Whoever is sending that want to speak to you." Clarke told the little girl.

Jon looked at his father. "Read the room, dad."

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, she was right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Ophelia had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straigh─ tened up, gasping for breath, with Ophelia's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Ophelia. "Dudley go, go." Ophelia walked round and round in her new room. Someone knew she had moved out of her cupboard and they seemed to know she hadn't received her dirst letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time she'd make sure they didn't fail. She had a plan.

Ophelia smiled shyly. "...bad idea."

"Why?" Damian who heard her, asked. More like demanded that she answered.

"M-my plan always end up with me in troible or its just fail." She rubbed het arm flustered. It was true. When she wanted to sneak out, she neither fell or her aunt comes back ealier than she should. She felt bad for her future self.

Her plan is a failure already.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six oclock the next morning, Ophelia turned it off quickly and dressed silently. She mustn't wake the Dursleys. She stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. She was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Her heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door. Ophelia leapt into the air; she'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat, something alive! Lights clicked on upstairs and to her horror Ophelia realized that the big, squashy something had been her uncle's face.

"See?" Ophelia's cheek flushed.

"He really slept there to stop her?" Duke mused.

Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Ophelia didn't do exactly what she'd been trying to do. She shouted at Ophelia for about half an hour and then told her to go and make a cup of tea. Ophelia shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time she got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

She could see three letters addressed in green ink. "I want-" she began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before her eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. HE stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot. "See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up." "I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him. On Friday no less than twelve letters arrived for Ophelia. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again.

"Damn, so many letters."

After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed. "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises. On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Ophelia found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.

"She should have taken one quietly and lock herself in her room." Damian rolled
his eyes. The young was still a little bit dumb so Damian will take care of her IQ in her future.

While Uncle Vernon made furious
telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor. "Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Ophelia in amazement. She wantes to know too.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. "No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade
on his newspapers, "no damn letters today-" Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets.

Jon laughed at the face of Vernon. He held his stomatch. The sunshine boy was always quick to laugh and smile at things. Which Damian hated.

Did he?

The Dursleys ducked, but Ophelia leapt into the air trying to catch one. "Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon seized Ophelia around the waist and threw her into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!" He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.

"They are driving him crazy." Lois mused, a grin on her lips. She currently enjoying the misfortune of Mr. Vernon Dursley.

Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round thehead for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em
off," he would mutter whenever he did this. They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling.

"Its is clear that miss Ophelia's family need a psychologue." Alfred smiled faintly.

Tim could not agree more.

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for break─ fast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. "'Scuse me, but is one of you Miss. O. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk." She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Miss. O. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth

"Its magic, is not? The people that are sending you those letters must be some witch or wizard." Jon said.

"Most probably."

"Do you mean like Zatanna?" Dick asked Bruce.

"No. Zatanna is a sorceress and a homo magi." Bruce explained. "Its probably the type that used wands, i suposed." The others listened attentively. It was a bit surprisingly. At first they did saw the magic but to think that there are wands user wizards and witches that walked around is a surprise.

Ophelia made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked her hand out
of the way. The woman stared. "I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room. "Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggest timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again.

The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon.

"Yes, you dumb brat."

Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dud ley sniveled. "It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television." Monday. This reminded Ophelia of something.

If it was Monday and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television, then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Ophelia's eleventh birthday. Of course, her birthdays were never exactly fun, last year the Dursleys had given her a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

"You never got a proper gift?" Selina lookee at Ophelia with a hint of sadness and shock. Ophelia looked down shyly.

Damian stiffen. When he first came to the Manor, he did not expect things to be easy and on his birthday, despite not being nice to his streets siblings, they all have given him gifts that he still kept. He would never mention it thought. And hearing that Ophelia never for a proper one made his anger rise.

The scene soon shifted It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken down house.

"He is mad in the head!" Jason shouted angrily as he saw that that disgusting man was doing.

"Oh my god.." Stephanie felt like passing
out. That man was completely mad.

Ophelia tensed at what she is seeing. Her uncle would go that far. Funny.

Harley, Lois and Selina were fuming with rage.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up. "Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

"Here I thought that I would never meet someone worser than the joker." Bruce tsked. "At least the joker is smart but this one probably does not even contain a brain.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Ophelia privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up at all. As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows.

Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Ophelia was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Ophelia couldn't sleep. She shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger.

"I am not egen surprise anymore." Barabara sighed. She felt sad for Ophelia. Cassandra was clenching her fists.

Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Ophelia she'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. She lay and watched her birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Opheloa heard something creak outside. She hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although ahe might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one some how. Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? One minute to go and she'd be eleven.

Bruce looked away. He was an orphan. She was an orphan. She probably have seen her parents died so did he. She had to celebrated her birthday like that wae very wrong and sat.

Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten...nine.. maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him -- three... two...one... BOOM. The whole shack shivered and Ophelia sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

"Who the hell would traver the that seat to go there.." Jason wondered.