Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

After Dedalus finished speaking, there was a moment of silence. No one answered him. Uncle Vernon was still staring, appalled, at the bulge in Dedalus’s waistcoat pocket, in a daze, completely spaced out. …

Harry didn’t say anything either. He was thinking about the sudden change of plan.

If they weren’t going to use Apparition, how were the members of the Order of the Phoenix planning to get him out of here?!

“Perhaps we should wait outside in the hall, Dedalus,” murmured Hestia. She clearly felt that it would be tactless for them to remain in the room while Harry and the Dursleys exchanged loving, possibly tearful farewells.

“There’s no need,” Harry muttered, but Uncle Vernon made any further explanation unnecessary by saying loudly,

“Well, this is good-bye, then, boy.”

He swung his right arm upward to shake Harry’s hand, but at the last moment seemed unable to face it, and merely closed his fist and began swinging it backward and forward like a metronome.

“Ready, Diddy?” asked Aunt Petunia, fussily checking the clasp of her handbag so as to avoid looking at Harry altogether.

Dudley did not answer, but stood there with his mouth slightly ajar, reminding Harry a little of the giant, Grawp. They were very similar in a certain sense.

“Come along, then,” said Uncle Vernon.

He had already reached the living room door when Dudley mumbled, “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand, popkin?” asked Aunt Petunia, looking up at her son.

Dudley raised a large, hamlike hand to point at Harry.

“Why isn’t he coming with us?”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia froze where they stood, staring at Dudley as though he had just expressed a desire to become a ballerina.

“What?” said Uncle Vernon loudly.

“Why isn’t he coming too?” asked Dudley.

“Well, he — he doesn’t want to,” said Uncle Vernon, turning to glare at Harry and adding, “You don’t want to, do you?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Harry.

“There you are,” Uncle Vernon told Dudley. “Now come on, we’re off.”

He marched out of the room. They heard the front door open, but Dudley did not move and after a few faltering steps Aunt Petunia stopped too.

“What now?” barked Uncle Vernon, reappearing in the doorway.

It seemed that Dudley was struggling with concepts too difficult to put into words. After several moments of apparently painful internal struggle he said, “But where’s he going to go?”

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other, not knowing what to say. It was clear that Dudley was frightening them. Hestia Jones broke the silence.

“Sorry to interrupt you, but… surely you know where your nephew is going?” she asked, looking bewildered.

“Certainly we know,” said Vernon Dursley. “He’s off with some of your lot, isn’t he? His godfather, that murderer. … Right, Dudley, let’s get in the car, you heard the man, we’re in a hurry.”

Again, Vernon Dursley marched as far as the front door, but Dudley did not follow, forcing the Dursleys to stop once more.

“Off with some of our lot?”

Hestia looked outraged. Harry had met this attitude before: Witches and wizards seemed stunned that his closest living relatives took so little interest in the famous Harry Potter. This seemed to be the most difficult thing for them to accept.

“It’s fine,” Harry assured her. “It doesn’t matter, honestly.”

“Doesn’t matter?” repeated Hestia, her voice rising ominously. “Don’t these people realize what you’ve been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement? We are not fleeing in shame, but fighting, saving the Wizarding world and saving this country. You are a hero, Harry!”

“Er — no, they don’t,” said Harry. “They think I’m a waste of space, actually, but I’m used to —”

“I don’t think you’re a waste of space.”

If Harry had not seen Dudley’s lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken; for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself.

“Well … er … thanks, Dudley.”

Again, Dudley appeared to grapple with thoughts too unwieldy for expression before mumbling, “You saved my life.”

“Not really,” said Harry. “It was mainly because of me, and it was your soul the Dementor would have taken. …”

He looked curiously at his cousin. They had had virtually no contact during this summer or last, as Harry had come back to Privet Drive so briefly and kept to his room so much. After Sirius’s warning, the Dursleys had also strictly forbidden Dudley to get close to Harry, especially after the Dementors attack.

Understanding all that, it now dawned on Harry that the cup of cold tea on which he had trodden that morning might not have been a booby trap at all. Although rather touched, he was nevertheless quite relieved that Dudley appeared to have exhausted his ability to express his feelings. After opening his mouth once or twice more, Dudley subsided into scarlet-faced silence.

Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry.

“S-so sweet, Dudders …” she sobbed into his massive chest. “S-such a lovely b-boy … s-saying thank you …”

“But he hasn’t said thank you at all!” said Hestia indignantly. “He only said he didn’t think Harry was a waste of space!”

“Yeah, but coming from Dudley that’s like ‘I love you,’ ” said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.

Just then, Uncle Vernon came stomping over impatiently.

“Are we going or not?” he roared, then looked at Harry awkwardly. “Listen, boy, I don’t think you’re a waste of space, but I don’t like you. Yes. … I don’t know if anyone has ever said that you look a lot like your father, a lot. Ever since we first met that night eighteen years ago, I’ve recognized what kind of man he was, arrogant, useless, rude, and liked to mock others. You and he are almost cut from the same mold, from childhood, equally annoying, but… Damn, are we going or not? I thought we were on a tight schedule!”

He waved his hand sharply, unable to go on.

Harry was also stunned. Uncle Vernon mentioned that he and his father had met for the first time eighteen years ago, and no one had ever told him about it.

Obviously, that meeting had not been pleasant.

Eighteen years ago was the year when his parents graduated from Hogwarts, and it was also the year when his parents got married.

A lot of things had happened that year, and Uncle Vernon’s hatred for Harry seemed to stem from that.

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