Chapter Two: The Lost Letter

Harry woke up drenched with sweat and gasping for air. His wand was gripped tightly in his white hand and Hedwig was watching him curiously from the window ledge with a letter in her beak. Harry looked around to see that he was laying on the floor in front of his bedroom window. He got quickly to his feet and looked out of the window, making Hedwig hoot indignantly at him for upsetting her. The only thing outside was old Mr. Watsons getting his morning newspaper. The entire street was pleasently quiet.
Harry paced his room in a confused daze. Had he dreamed it all? But it seemed so real... He stopped in front of his mirror to take a look at his scar. Except for the fact that his face was paler than the ghosts at Hogwarts, he looked normal.
Hedwig hooted at Harry, obvioulsy annoyed at the fact that he'd made her wait there with a letter in her beak for so long.
Harry took the letter from her and took her over to her cage and gave her a treat. Then he looked at the letter. It was a strange handwriting. It wasn't Ron's sloppy writing, Harmione's neat handwriting, or Hagrid's scatchy letters. In fact, the parchment wasn't even parchment. It was white paper. The front bore the title:

Harry Potter
Number 4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey, England

No one wrote like that, that Harry knew of. Who was this from? Hedwig, who had fallen asleep, Harry knew had been gone for an awful long time. Longer than usual. Where did she go?

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