Harry was cramped into the cupboard under the stairs.

Today was the last day of his punishment for “injuring” Dudley at the zoo, even though he hadn’t done anything. Honest! The glass just disappeared. It was like magic.

But Uncle Ver non didn’t want to hear it. He’d given Harry a swift beating and locked him in the cupboard—no fo od, no wa ter—for three days.

It was cold. He wanted to cry, but there hadn’t been enough water for tears. Not that he was allowed to cry anyway.

The door unlocked. Aunt Pet unia’s shrill voice cut through the silence, ordering him out. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. Harry got up at once, ignoring the ache in his bones and the heaviness in his limbs.

He made breakfast—but, as usual, wasn’t allowed to eat it. Aunt Pet unia tossed him an apple today. She was always a bit kinder than Vernon.

The mail arrived. One of Harry’s chores was to fetch it. He shuffled to the door. Beneath the boring adult envelopes and takeaway flyers, there was a letter.

“To Harry Pot ter The Cupboard Under the Stairs”

It had to be a mistake. Hog warts? Sounded like one of those fancy private schools. He handed it to Aunt Pet unia.

“I think this was meant for Dudley,” he said carefully. “It must’ve been a mistake.”

Good things didn’t happen to Harry. He didn’t deserve them. That’s what the Durs leys said. And why would they lie?

They were kind enough to let Harry stay. It was his fault he was such a burden.

Aunt Pet unia paled. “Vernon. It’s happened.”

Harry blinked. Was he in trouble again? That tight panic rose in his throat. Vernon snatched the letter and tore it up.

He screamed that Harry would not be going to “Hogwarts,” that he wouldn’t be allowed near those freaks.

Harry didn’t know why Vernon was yelling again, but he kept his head down and muttered an apology. Rage flickered in his chest—but fear drowned it out.