I opened the next letter from Nicholas, It was a collection of poetry by wizards. And Zoe had given me a hoodie she had made herself it was green with the words slytherin in silver, she was talented that way. I  picked up my last parcel. I recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: thiswas from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. I tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before I could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver,and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws.

I froze. I knew that Hagrid would never send me anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a norma lperson's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin. I poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. 

I reached for the lamp on my bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over my head, ready to strike, Harry jumped back as he was opening his own book. Then I seized the rest of the wrapping paper in my other hand and pulled.And out fell — a book. Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab. 

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered.The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. I followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under my desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, I got down on my hands and knees and reached toward it. 

"Ouch!"

 The book snapped shut on my hand and then flapped past me,still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud,sleepy grunt in the room next door.Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, I hurried to my chest of drawers,and pulled out a belt, which I buckled tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, Harry did the same to his so I threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card. 

Dear Emma,

 Happy birthday!Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you. 

Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

 All the best, 

Hagrid 

It struck me as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but I put Hagrid's card up next to Nicholas's, Zoe'sand Draco's, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, I slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

 Dear Ms. Potter,

 Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends.

 Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

 A list of books for next year is enclosed. 

Yours sincerely, 

Prof. M. Mcgonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; I knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and I had never set foot there.

 But how on earth were we going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form? Harry, was also looking woe-bogen. I looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in themorning. Deciding that I'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when I woke up, I got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart I'd made for myself, counting down the days left until our return to Hogwarts. 

Then I  lay down, eyes open, facing my 4 three birthday cards.Extremely unusual though I was, at that moment I felt just like everyone else — glad, for the first time in my life, that it was my birthday

***

Harry and I went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table.They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room.

 Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen,his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.Harry  and I sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large,beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry or me a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry or me enter the room, but Harry and I both were far too used to this to care. I helped myself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict:

 ". . . The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately." 

"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state o fhim, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

 He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.

I remembered Draco saying something about a prisoner....he was a wizard. 

The reporter had reappeared.

 "The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —" 

"Hang on!" barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

 Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. I knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors. 

"When will they learn," said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

 "Very true," said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner beans. 

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten." 

I, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the letters upstairs, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump. 

"Aunt Marge?"I blurted out. "Sh — she's not coming here, is she?" 

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry and mine (our mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), we had been forced to call her "Aunt" all our life.

 Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in my mind.At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry and me. On her last visit, the year before Harry  and I started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight, and slapped me for yelling at her. 

The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes."Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject" — he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry and me — "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her." 

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television.Watching Harry and me being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, "you both will keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

 "All right,"I said bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to us."

 "Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard my reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, I don't want any — any funny stuff while she's here.You behave yourselves, got me?" 

"we will if she does," said Harry through gritted teeth. 

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys and Girls."

 "What?" I yelled. 

"And you'll be sticking to that story, girl, or there'll be trouble,"spat Uncle Vernon.Harry  and I sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week long visit — it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given us, including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. 

"Well, Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet,"I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

 "No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry. 

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow tie." 

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder. 

"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen. 

I had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning my toast, I got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door, Harry came behind me.Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat. 

"I'm not taking you," he snarled as he turned to see Harry and me watching him. 

"Like we wanted to come," I said coldly. "I want to ask you something." 

Uncle Vernon eyed me suspiciously. 

"Third years at Hog — at our school are allowed to visit the village sometimes,"I said . 

"So?" snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door."we need you to sign the permission form," said Harry in a rush

And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon. 

"Well,"I said, choosing my words carefully, "it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge we go to that St. Whatsits —"

 "St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys and Girls!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, and I was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice. 

"Exactly," I said, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. we'll have to make it sound convincing, won't we? What if we accidentally let something slip?""You both'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry and me with his fist raised. But I stood my ground. 

"Knocking the stuffing out of us won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," Harry said grimly. 

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

 "But if you sign our permission form," Harry went on quickly, "I swear we'll remember where we're  supposed to go to school, and we'll act like Mug — like we're normal and everything." 

I could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

 "Right," he snapped finally. "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy form."

 He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.Harry and I didn't return to the kitchen. We went back upstairs to our bedroom. If we were going to act like real Muggles, we'd better start now.

 Slowly and sadly we gathered up all our presents and birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with our homework. 

Then I went to Hedwig's cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. I sighed, then poked them both awake."Hedwig," I said gloomily, "you're going to have to clear off fora week. Go with Errol. Ron'll look after you. Harry'll write him a note,explaining. And don't look at me like that" — Hedwig's large amber eyes were reproachful — "it's not my fault. It's the only way I'll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Nick, Zoe  and Draco."

 Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight.I, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe.But we didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry and me to come down and get ready to welcome our guest.