Pureblood Pride at Privet Drive

Marius Black pulled his Aston Martin to an easy stop directly in front of number four, Privet Drive. He let out a deep sigh.

'For heaven's sake, Marius,' his wife chided him. 'If you didn't want to come this evening, why on earth did you accept the Muggles' invitation?'

'Bentley says that Dursley has talent,' Marius replied. 'He thinks we should give the account to Grunnings.'

Clytemnestra Black sniffed haughtily. Marius chuckled. Squibs they both might be—a disgrace to their families—but his wife had never lost her pureblood pride.

'I hardly see why we should trouble ourselves to meet with him,' she said. 'Why didn't you send Bentley?'

Marius sighed again. His wife refused to understand how these things worked.

'The Dursleys invited us, my dear,' he replied evenly. 'Would you have me insult the Muggle?'

His wife grinned maliciously. 'Do you really want to know what I should prefer to do to the audacious Muggle? Really, for some middling Muggle scum to presume to invite Marius Black to dinner…it boggles the mind.'

That was enough. Marius turned on his wife with a ferocious gleam in his eye.

'Fine,' he spat. 'Why don't we pay a visit to Malfoy Manor, then? I'm sure Abraxas will be simply delighted to see his dear Squib sister.'

Clytemnestra turned pale, but she said nothing more as she gathered her mink about her and exited the car. Marius' heart sank. He cared for his wife deeply, and it hurt him to cause her pain, but every now and then she needed to be reminded exactly what they were. She tended to forget why it was that they had to put up with all these miserable Muggles in the first place.

Marius got out of the car and offered his arm to his wife. She refused to take it, but marched ahead to the Dursleys' door. He followed her and rapped smartly on the door three times with his silver-topped cane. Dursley opened the door.

'Good evening, Mr and Mrs Black!' he exclaimed. 'What an honour for us to have you in our humble home. Allow me to present my lovely wife, Petunia, and our son, Dudley.'

Marius forced himself to smile as he raised the horsey-faced woman's over-large hand to his lips and ruffled the hair of her whale of a son.

'Charmed,' Marius said drily. 'You have a fine family, Mr Dursley.'

Clytemnestra cleared her throat loudly beside him. Marius ignored her.

'May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Black?' the fat boy asked. Marius could hear the boredom in his tone, and wondered how much the brat was being paid to act appropriately this evening. He removed his overcoat and hat and placed them in the boy's outstretched arms.

'Thank you, my lad,' he said, then turned and glared at his wife until she removed her mink and dropped it over the boy as carelessly as if he were a house-elf.

'Won't you step into the parlour, Mrs Black?' the woman asked Clytemnestra, who was visibly suppressing a great many snide remarks.

'Thank you, Mrs Dursley,' she drawled.

'Oh, please, call me Petunia,' the woman replied.

Marius stifled a chuckle. Clytemnestra looked at the woman as though she were a bit of manure that had appeared on the tip of her shoe.

'I prefer Mrs Dursley,' she said coldly.

Dursley laughed nervously at that and began to wave them all into the parlour.

'What would you care to drink?' he asked.

Before they could leave the hallway, Marius heard a loud sneeze. He turned around. It seemed to him that it was coming from the cupboard under the stairs. Then he heard a small voice berating himself in a harsh whisper. If Marius hadn't been so surprised, he would have laughed. It sounded just like a house elf. But how could there possibly be a house elf in this Muggle home? He decided to investigate.

'If you'll excuse me, Mr and Mrs Dursley,' he said, stepping briefly into the parlour. 'I was wondering where I might freshen up.'

'Oh!' Mr Dursley exclaimed, as though stunned that such an important man as Mr Black might need to relieve himself occasionally. 'In the hallway, right across from the cupboard under the stairs.'

'Excellent,' Marius replied with a wry smile. 'I shall return presently.'

The haughty Squib then slid quietly over to the cupboard and knocked on the door. No one responded.

'It's no use hiding, you know,' he whispered. 'I heard you.'

He heard a quiet gasp.

'What is your name?' Marius pressed.

'Harry,' a small voice murmured.

Marius' face went white. That was a boy locked in the cupboard. What did the Muggle oaf think he was playing at?

'Are you Dursley's boy?' he demanded.

'No, sir,' the timid voice whispered. 'I'm Harry Potter. Please don't tell Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia you heard me. I'll get in really bad trouble.'

Marius' eyes went wide. Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? He stood up in a fury.

'DURSLEY!' he roared. 'GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE IN HERE!'

The large man came blustering in. His face was purple. Clearly Marius had crossed some sort of line.

'What's the meaning of this?' Dursley demanded. 'You can't just stride into my home, insult me, and order me about.'

'You have a boy locked in that cupboard,' Marius said simply. 'He says his name is Harry Potter.'

Clytemnestra let out a small gasp.

'It's our nephew,' Dursley said smoothly. 'He's very disturbed. Dangerous, really.'

'And that's why you keep him locked up in a cupboard?' Marius asked incredulously. 'Let him out. I wish to speak with him.'

Dursley began to bluster again. 'What right do you have…?'

'Let him out,' Marius repeated calmly. 'Or I shall be certain to bring this matter up at our dinner with the Prime Minister next Thursday.'