Hoping For a Better Future: BOOK ONE

One day after the end of Harry's third year, he wanders the castle when suddenly a whole package of books falls on his head. Read my version of Reading the Harry Potter Books! =D

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4. III - Letters From No One (Part 1)

  

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling I own nothing. Writing in bold comes directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

III – The Letters from No One

There was silence in the room for a few minutes, which was broken by Ron's ever-empty stomach's rumbling. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but look at each other and snort loudly.

"I think it's time for breakfast," Harry said lightly, trying to diffuse the tension that was still lingering in the room. He was surprised when a huge coffee table appeared between the armchairs and sofas. It appeared that the room heard his need and gave him what was needed. There was a soft pop and plates upon plates of food appeared out of nowhere. There was a small note, resting upon Harry's empty plate, that was waiting to be filled with all the delicious food.

Apparently, food is one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration – according to Hermione anyway. And as such, food cannot be conjured. I felt the need to send a note to one of the Hogwarts house-elves (don't tell Hermione or she'll get her knickers in a twist!) to supply you with food. Don't worry about it from now on and enjoy your stay,

Harry

He felt extremely weird wanting to thank himself, so he stopped thinking about it and dove into the food that had appeared on his plate while he was reading the note. He looked over to Sirius with suspicion and rolled his eyes when he saw Sirius staring at his plate with a pointed look. Harry snorted and continued eating.

After they were done – or at least, after everyone but Ron was done, Hermione took up the book and started reading the next chapter.

Chapter Three – The Letters from No One

"Doesn't that mean that you'll get the letter from Hogwarts?" Ron asked his mouth half full.

"You'll see," said Harry mysteriously, but ruined it by snorting to himself as he remembered his uncle's escapades.

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

Sirius was about to say something, but the look on his godson's face stopped him. He swore to himself that they would have a long talk as soon as they retired for the night. Then he thought that it might be too early for him to assert himself in that way and looked over to Remus who was watching his facial expressions. Shrugging, he turned his attention back on Hermione.

Harry 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 favourite sport: Harry-hunting.

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

"No, Harry, you're going to Hogwarts," teased Ron. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I didn't know that at the time," he said.

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

"No thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

"That, Mr Potter, was an answer worthy of a Slytherin," Snape suddenly said. Everyone looked at him in surprise. It was the first time that he commented on something that was being read from the book. Harry grew a bit tense at that as he was reminded that the Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. He didn't know how everyone else would react to that.

"Thanks, I guess," he managed to get out. He was very uncomfortable as Snape stared at him. Was he expecting him to go into a rage and rant about Slytherin? If so, he would wait a long time. Ever since Harry had found out that Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed his parents to Voldemort, was a Gryffindor, it made him think about how everyone said that all the bad wizards came out of Slytherin. That made him realize just how prejudiced the Wizarding community was. He even snuck into the library one night and went to research Dark Wizards through the history – and while some of them were Slytherins, most of the others were either Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs of Gryffindors. It was true that victors wrote the history books, as Harry found out. Voldemort might be one bad Slytherin, but not everyone who was bad was a Slytherin. Being a Slytherin didn't automatically make you bad – that was the wisdom that Harry learnt that one night in the library. It made him open his eyes to what happened before he was sorted. Hagrid told him that all Slytherins were evil, as did Ron – and Malfoy didn't exactly endear himself to Harry either. But then again, he was only eleven and knew nothing of the Wizarding world. He wondered what would have happened if he kept quiet while he was sorted. Would the Sorting Hat still put him in Gryffindor or Slytherin, or would he have been put in another house? The Hat did say that he had the qualities of all four houses, after all. Hermione clearing her throat, made Harry wake from his musings and start paying attention to the reading.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry 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 Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

"That was nice of her," Ron said sarcastically.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living-room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers 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.

"Makes you thank whoever designed the Hogwarts uniform, doesn't it?" said Hermione with a grin. Everyone laughed at that and agreed. They wouldn't be caught dead wearing what Dudley had to wear for his school.

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

"Drama queen," muttered Harry. Snape couldn't agree more.

and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins,

Silence. Then the room shook with laughter.

"Ickle Dudleykins?" guffawed Ron.

"Hark who's talking – didn't I hear your brothers call you Ickle Ronniekins on the platform?" shot Harry back through his own chuckles. Ron ignored him, but everyone could see his ears turn red from embarrassment.

he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

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

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't realise it had to be so wet."

"I think that sarcasm won't work on her either," Sirius mused as he tried to distract himself from going over to Privet Drive and committing the murders he was convicted of.

"You're telling me," Harry mumbled.

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

Everyone turned to glare at Dumbledore again. He received a glare every time Harry's abuse was mentioned. Harry wondered how long that would last. He hoped they wouldn't glare at the professor through all the books. Though, he did resent Dumbledore a bit for always sending him back to the hell-hole, he hoped that the man had a good reason to and hoped that one of those books would tell him. Trying to make Dumbledore tell you the truth about something was usually like pulling teeth.

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High – like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smeltings stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the letter-box and flop of letters on the doormat.

"If the post is mentioned, then…" Hermione started to get excited and quickly continued to read. Harry kept quiet, not wanting to disappoint her by telling her that it didn't matter because he didn't read the first letter anyway.

"Get the post, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the post, Harry."

"So, he does know your name," Ron said and was immediately whacked over the head by Hermione's hand.

"You're so tactless, Ron!" she grumbled as Ron wearily rubbed the spot on his head that was hurting.

"I just made an observation!" he argued, "How is that tactless?"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him exactly how that observation was tactless, but Harry interrupted them before they started arguing again. The teachers in the room just rolled their eyes at the show the trio was putting on. They were already used to watch Hermione and Ron argue all the time, with Harry calming them down. To Remus, Sirius and even Snape, it reminded them of Lily and James, before they got together. It left a bitter-sweet taste in Remus' and Sirius' mouths, but a sour one in Snape's.

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smeltings stick and went to get the post. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was holidaying on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and – a letter for Harry.

Sirius perked up at this and leaned forward. He had seen all of Harry's firsts when he was a baby. He could still remember how angry James was at him when Harry's first word was Da – and it was not James that was called that, but Sirius. His behind still ached in the memory of the Stinging Hex James used on him as he chased him around the house. Sirius was also present at Harry's first steps – he could still remember Lily and how she glowed with pride as she took pictures of baby Harry waddling around. He sighed at the memories sadly. He missed twelve years of his godson's life because he was chucked into Azkaban. How could he ever make it up to him?

Harry 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 him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives – he didn't belong to the library so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

"Albus, I think it's time we started supervising the Quill," said professor McGonagall with the most serious face Harry had ever seen. Dumbledore's eyes went dull as he nodded. He wondered how many children at Hogwarts had endured as much as Harry has if not more and they never found out. He felt a slight pang of guilt as he thought of his Potions Master – he was also an abused child.

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, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion,

"GRYFFINDOR!" yelled Sirius with a mischievous grin on his face.

an eagle,

There was a moment of silence, and then Moody grunted. They all took it as a confirmation to Moody being a Ravenclaw when he was at Hogwarts.

a badger

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Tonks added her two Knuts to the conversation.

and a snake

Everyone turned to Snape who glared at them. Hermione quickly resumed reading.

surrounding a large letter "H".

This time, it was Remus, Sirius, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Tonks, Neville and even Dumbledore who let out a bellow, "HOGWARTS!"

They all looked at each other and started laughing. Harry couldn't believe how childish everyone behaved and started laughing even harder. Even Dumbledore was chuckling to himself as he watched his favourite group of people laugh. Snape's face was expressionless and Moody was becoming impatient.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter-bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

"That was a joke?" Ron asked with disbelief in his voice.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

"Harry," said Remus cautiously. "I don't think that was a good idea."

"Why not?" asked Ron, clueless as usual.

"Probably because you're right," said Harry miserably while wishing that he would have opened the letter when he found it. But then again, he would have missed Hagrid giving Dudley a pig's tail. That cheered him up.

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, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"Hey, that's his letter!" shouted Tonks angrily. "It's illegal to take and read someone else's letters!"

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Uh-oh," snickered Ron. "I sense someone losing their temper soon!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued reading.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon,

"Actually…" started Neville, getting a bit red in the face. "I wrote you a letter once when I was six."

Ron let out a snicker as he added his two Knuts, "So did Ginny!"

Harry just groaned in embarrassment and hid his face in his hands, trying to hide his blush. Everyone gave out a small chuckle.

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 greyish white of old porridge.

"Nice description," mumbled Sirius as he tried to keep his own temper in check.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

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 – Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry 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 Smeltings stick.

"If we did that to dad, mum would kill us," Ron whispered.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."

"Wait for it," Ron added to the sentence with a wicked glean in his eyes. Harry rolled his eyes and Sirius chuckled.

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

"Any second now," said Neville with a grin.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"And there it is! Harry's temper!" said Ron gleefully.

"Reminds me of Lily's," mused Remus as he remembered how often she lost her temper whenever James was trying to show off. Sirius chuckled and Snape's lips twitched a bit as he remembered how many times she lost her temper as well.

"What kind of a temper did my dad have?" asked Harry curiously. He wanted to know everything he could find out about his parents. Sirius and Remus looked at each other and grinned.

"He was a happy-go-lucky person, I guess," said Remus after a few moments. "He couldn't bother getting too angry about something, though when he did lose it, then you had to watch out."

Sirius slumped a bit as he remembered how James yelled at him after he almost got Snape killed by Remus. He could see how idiotic and childish that was now. Especially as it seemed that Snape brought the hatred he felt towards them onto Harry. Though, the further they got into the book the less he seemed to hate Harry, Sirius thought. He could remember how Snape looked on the first train ride – he wore clothes that were too big for him and that were threadbare. He could almost imagine Harry looking like that in his cousin's clothes. He felt his heart squeeze in pain as he realized just how many things Snape and his godson had in common.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – 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 –"

Harry 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 him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

The room suddenly started trembling as if an earthquake had hit it. Everyone looked around themselves, not understanding what was happening... until they lay their eyes on the Headmaster who was clutching a hand to his chest and trying to calm himself down. Everyone's mouth dropped open as they stared. Never, in all their lives, had they seen the Headmaster lose control of his magic before and it was a bit scary as power poured out of him.

It took a few minutes, but the Headmaster calmed himself down eventually.

"I apologize," he said wearily as he took quick breaths. Snape, Moody and McGonagall all looked worried about their friend and the others merely looked dumbstruck. After a few more seconds of silence, Hermione shakily started to read again.

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,"

"Yes," said Snape sarcastically, "by mistake his exact address was written on the envelope."

said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry 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.

"Er – yes, Harry – 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."

"Second bedroom?" barked Sirius angrily. "Just how many rooms are there in the house?"

Harry kept quiet.

"Why?" said Harry.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors

Sirius growled lowly at that and promised himself that after they were done reading for today he would sit Harry down and have a long talk with him, ignoring his previous insecurities about asserting himself too quickly. Someone had to talk to the boy and that someone would be Sirius. Looking at Remus, he saw his friend looking at him proudly. Guess Remus knew what he was thinking about. As usual. Taking a deep breath, Sirius calmed himself down and listened as Hermione read further.

(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 Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old cine-camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over next door's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favourite programme had been cancelled; there was a large birdcage which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air-rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

"I read them when I was locked in the room," Harry admitted blushingly. He thought back to the summer between his first and second year and when his uncle had locked him in the room. He had nothing to do but read. Hermione looked at him proudly while Ron had a look of disbelief on his face.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother: "I don't want him in there … I need that room … make him get out …"

"Spoiled brat," murmured Tonks.

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his 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 Smeltings stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

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

"If he wanted to read the letter yesterday, why didn't he just read it and not shout it out for everyone to hear?" asked Ron.

"I did mention he was stupid, didn't I?" said Harry lightly. Tonks snorted at that.

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry 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 Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind.

"So, you were already practising the choke for the troll," observed Ron with a laugh.

"Troll?" asked Sirius and Remus sharply. They didn't know anything about a troll.

"I'm sure we'll read about it once I get to Hogwarts," Harry tried to calm them down.

"I'm curious about it too," admitted Neville softly. "I always wanted to know how you and Ron became friends with Hermione."

"You weren't friends off the bat?" asked Sirius curiously.

"No," answered Ron guiltily. He still felt guilty about being the one to make Hermione cry.

After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smeltings stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry.

"Dudley – go – just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again?

And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

"Uh-oh," Ron, Hermione and even Neville said simultaneously. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"What's with the uh-oh?" asked Remus while sending a curious glance towards Harry.

"Harry had a plan," explained Ron while chuckling. "Because no matter how good of a plan he makes is, there's always bound to go something wrong."

"Now, when he's thinking on his feet, he's brilliant," continued Hermione. "But when he makes a plan, then it goes awry. And he usually jinxes himself as well."

Harry crossed his arms.

"Like when he went to the Zoo, remember him thinking that nothing could go wrong? That was when he jinxed himself." added Neville. Hermione let out a giggle, while everyone laughed at the poor, blushing Harry.

"Don't worry," said Sirius. "Your dad sucked at making plans too. Usually, his plans were the ones that got us caught and issued with detentions. It was Remus here that made the best plans."

Remus shot him an irritated look, while McGonagall looked like someone betrayed her.

The repaired alarm clock

"How did you repair it? I don't think the Dursleys would have lent you any tools..." Hermione observed. Harry scratched his head and thought back.

"I think it might have been a bit of accidental magic," he admitted. "I remember getting frustrated and banging the clock at the wall and then it suddenly started working again."

Dumbledore thought it wouldn't be prudent of him to mention that it wasn't accidental magic, but most probably wandless magic that Harry did.

rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall towards the front door –

"AAAAARRRGH!"

"Don't tell me," smirked Tonks.

Harry leapt into the air – he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something alive!

"Oh Merlin, this is just too funny," Ron laughed and Harry couldn't help but join in. Now that he looked at it, it really was funny.

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realised that the big squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen, and by the time he got back, the post had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

"I want –" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the letter-box.

"That won't help," said McGonagall smugly.

"Just how many letters did you get?" asked Neville in awe.

"Hundreds," said Harry shortly. Then grinned as he remembered how he met Hagrid for the first time.

"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 fruit cake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

"Yes, our minds work in strange ways," sneered Snape sarcastically. Harry snorted. He had no idea that Snape could be so funny.

 
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