CH 76: Living in the Past
Holiday time always flies by. After spending Christmas at Hermione's house, Harry contemplated for a long while before deciding to visit No. 4 Privet Drive.
That is, the Dursleys.
It was an established fact that the Dursleys provided him with food to eat and books to read. If he remained as inconspicuous as possible even after the Christmas holiday, avoiding showing his face, perhaps he could avoid their disdain.
The moment Penny opened the door, her face resembled ice hanging from the eaves.
They stared at each other for an extended moment.
"Honey, who's at the door?" Vernon's voice resonated from the living room, accompanied by warm air escaping through the doorway.
"Harry," Petunia responded coldly, then turned back, saying, "Come in, that nose of yours is awfully sensitive."
Heavy footsteps echoed, and Dudley's rotund face appeared from the second floor. Upon spotting Harry, his complexion turned a shade akin to pig liver, and with obvious reluctance, he descended the stairs.
Harry finally grasped Aunt Petunia's meaning. There was a lavish dinner spread across the table, yet he felt like an outsider.
Vernon, too, wore a displeased expression, but the silence prevailed, none daring to speak. He begrudgingly added a chair to the table, then instructed Harry to fetch the dishes.
"I thought you'd return in tattered robes and a dirty pointed hat," Petunia remarked maliciously as she served Dudley a piece of bacon.
"We have cleaning and repairing spells and seldom wear dirty clothes," Harry replied as gently as possible.
However, such a simple statement had an incredible impact on the rest of the family. Dudley gasped, choked, and flushed.
Aunt Petunia shrieked, as if delivered dreadful news. Uncle Vernon leaped up, veins bulging on his temples, his portly face looming over Harry's as he jabbed a finger at his nose, yelling, "No! Not in our house! Don't utter those words!!"
Vernon's spittle halted just before Harry's face. Undeterred, Harry maintained his gaze at the looming visage, then calmly set down his fork, lifting his hand to remove Vernon's finger from his nose.
"Alright, I respect the rules of this household," he said calmly.
Yet, this display left Petunia nearly breathless. Vernon resumed his seat, glaring at Harry like a rhinoceros short of breath.
Harry's nonchalant demeanor had unsettled him. When Vernon's angry roars and rages proved futile, he suddenly felt powerless.
The dinner table remained silent for a prolonged period, until Dudley demanded to watch TV while eating. Meanwhile, Vernon launched into a tirade about the incompetents he encountered at work.
After dinner, Harry retreated to his room, a cramped, dusty space.
He opened the window, refraining from using his wand. Instead, he waved his fingers and muttered a spell: "Clean up--"
In an instant, an unbidden gust swept through the room, leaving it spotless.
As he noticed Dudley lingering outside his door with a rigid countenance, Harry nodded at him before closing the door.
However, shortly after, Dudley knocked. Peeking out, Harry found Dudley hesitatingly asking, "Want to play on the game console?"
After a moment's consideration, Harry accepted.
Dudley's room was stocked with an abundance of food, and Harry produced some magical candies. Observing the hopping frogs, he couldn't help but marvel.
He was intrigued by magic.
It was safe to say, everyone harbors curiosity and yearning.
But due to his parents, he never dared to broach such topics at home.
The two conversed for an extended period, with Harry recounting some school events...
As the night grew late and Harry prepared to leave, Dudley stopped him.
"What's wrong?" Harry turned around.
Under his gaze, Dudley's face reddened, as if struggling to breathe. He hesitated, his body as rigid as an iron bucket brimming with materials.
"I'm sorry," his voice rushed, barely above a heavy breath.
Harry was taken aback. He scrutinized Dudley's face. Truth be told, the last time he had seriously regarded this pudgy face was a year and a half ago, in the alley behind St. George's Primary School. That was when his magic erupted, slamming Dudley against the wall.
They never spoke again after that. The two brothers ceased to exist in each other's worlds.
It seemed that something had shifted in Dudley after that night? Perhaps it was upon reaching middle school and being exposed to the influence of older students that he began to realize he wasn't the center of the universe?
Well, Harry didn't want to dwell on such matters any longer. He simply nodded, stating, "No one remains tethered to the past forever."
In the following days, the entire Dursley household swiftly reverted to its former state. While Harry and Dudley's dynamic had shifted after that fateful night, Vernon and Petunia remained unchanged.
Especially Petunia; whenever she laid eyes on Harry returning from school, memories of the past would unconsciously flood her mind.
Back then, whenever Lily returned from that accursed magic school, her pockets brimmed with toad eggs, and her teacups morphed into mice. And the parents would fuss over Lily endlessly, reveling in having a witch in the family. Only Petunia knew he was nothing short of a complete monster.
And now, it was all the same.
Every time she saw Harry, the bitterness within her surged to the forefront of her thoughts.
Fortunately, the Christmas break at Hogwarts wasn't lengthy, sparing her from encountering those eyes every day.
As the holiday drew to a close, Chris's car halted at Privet Drive, ferrying Harry to the city station. They opted, as usual, for the Hogwarts Express to return to school.
Time flew by, and it wasn't until one early morning, when Harry gazed at the sunlight filtering through the Black Lake into the common room, that he realized Easter break had arrived.
Emerging from the dungeons, he couldn't help but marvel at the fine weather—something he hadn't encountered in months. The sky stretched clear and blue, akin to forget-me-not flowers, with a hint of impending summer in the air.
After their morning potions class, he and Hermione strolled towards Hagrid's hut. Since the weather had cooled, their visits to Hagrid's had become less frequent, given the chill.
To their surprise, the closer they got to the hut, the more ominous it felt. The doors and windows were tightly shut, curtains drawn, admitting no light.
Knocking on the door, they heard Hagrid's cautious inquiry, "Who's there?" before he swiftly ushered them in, shutting the door behind them.
The heat inside was stifling. Despite the sunny day outside, a blazing fire roared in the fireplace. Were it not for the fact that Hagrid's hut was immobile, Harry would've suspected a fire demon resided there too.
His eyes caught sight of a dark, oval object in the midst of the flames, held down by the kettle.
Hagrid emerged with a plate of ferret sandwiches, noticing Harry's gaze fixed on the fire. He quickly urged them to sit, visibly relieved when Harry's attention shifted.
With some embarrassment, he remarked, "Oh, why the sudden visit? I haven't made any preparations."
Taking a sip of hot tea, Harry looked Hagrid in the eye and said simply, "Hagrid, you do know it's illegal to privately raise a dragon, don't you?"