Privet Drive No. 4, inside the small house.
"Darling! They'll be here any minute!"
Petunia called. She was already wearing a light orange cocktail dress.
Vernon and Dudley, both dressed in suits and bow ties, hurried into the sitting room just in time to see a long limousine and several smaller cars pull up outside.
"I heard dear Mr. Potter is very interested in some 'Ditchy ball' or something—I'll start with that joke…"
Vernon muttered nervously to himself.
A group of people climbed out of the cars. They all looked quite young, but no one would dare underestimate them, because seven or eight suited bodyguards surrounded them.
"Last run-through: after we welcome them, we should…?"
Vernon said.
"I go straight to the door and say,"
Dudley's fat face creased into a hideous grin.
"'May I take your coats, Mr. Green, Mr. Finlery, and Mr. Potter?'"
"Then I'll bring them into the sitting room, introduce you—Petunia—and get them drinks. At quarter past two—"
"I announce dinner."
Petunia said.
"Dudley, and you'll say—"
"'May I show you up to the dining room, gentlemen?'"
Dudley stretched out his pudgy arm, indicating the way for the invisible guests.
"What a perfect little gentleman!"
Aunt Petunia sniffed approvingly.
"Exactly! And then, at the table, we say a few flattering things. Petunia, what will you say?"
"'Mr. Potter, Vernon tells me you're marvelous at ball games… Mr. Green, do tell me where you buy your suits…'"
"Very good… Dudley?"
"How about: 'Mr. Potter, the teacher told us to write about the person we admire most, and I wrote about you.'"
They all looked very satisfied with themselves.
Only the three eavesdropping boys behind the door looked odd—Sean's expression was strained, Justin was trying desperately not to laugh—
And Harry had both hands clamped over his mouth to stop himself from bursting out.
Soon, the doorbell rang.
Vernon plastered a warm, obsequious smile on his face, and Dudley opened the door just as they'd rehearsed.
"Welcome!"
said Petunia.
A refined-looking, pale-skinned boy stepped inside.
"Oh! You must be Mr. Green!"
Sean nodded with a blank expression.
Petunia was delighted. Handsome and rich… and said to control the largest manufacturing workshop in all of England…
"Mr. Finlery, right this way—"
Vernon greeted him warmly but carefully. This one needed no introduction: his family history traced back to the Civil War. His ancestor, Sir Thomas Finlery, had been a general of the Parliamentary army and a key ally of Oliver Cromwell.
Though the family fell out of favor after the Restoration, clever marriages and a timely shift to support the Crown won them back status, and in the early 18th century, Queen Anne granted them the title Earl of Finlery in recognition of their financial backing during the War of the Spanish Succession.
Then Vernon caught sight of the last figure's shadow and quickly signaled Dudley. Dudley understood at once and stepped forward. According to the plan, he said:
"May I take your coats, Mr. Green, Mr. Finlery, and Mr Po–Po–Po–Po—"
Dudley froze on the spot, his lips opening and closing, then trembling.
"I'm so sorry, sir, Dudley must be feeling unwell."
Petunia had no idea what was happening, but she quickly dragged Dudley behind her and forced a smile.
"Potter!"
she shrieked.
"Ah! Ah! So sorry—"
Vernon yanked Petunia back behind him.
And then he yelled as well:
"Harry Potter?!"
Harry remembered Justin's instructions from the car and didn't say a word.
"Surprising, isn't it? Mr. Potter Senior was a close friend of my father's. Alas, he left no heirs. We've finally managed to track down his distant relative, Harry Potter."
Justin explained casually.
Vernon and Petunia were struck dumb. Dudley shrank behind Petunia's back.
Dinner that followed took place under a distinctly bizarre atmosphere.
Watching their smiles that looked more like crying, listening to their stammered compliments for Sean and Justin,
Harry knew his life with the Dursleys had been completely rewritten. For now, Vernon needed something from him, and couldn't even get a sentence out—but the days of living under the stairs were gone for good.
During the meal, Justin even affected curiosity as he glanced toward the cupboard under the stairs:
"Looks like your maid isn't treated particularly well. This place reminds me—my butler mentioned there was a family in this neighborhood reported for child abuse.
The Child Abuse Prevention Society has been looking into them. They should be arriving any moment now…"
The color drained from all three Dursleys' faces.
This was part of the plan Sean and Justin had worked out—but the real choice still lay with Harry.
He could send them to prison, or make sure they were hit with a massive fine.
Harry's face never looked quite right. After the first flash of vindictive joy, he'd spent dinner asking himself one painful question after another.
He couldn't answer them. He just wanted to get away.
Sean watched Vernon eat like a zombie, Petunia's spoon shaking in her hand, and Harry torn up with guilt and anger…
His eyes grew darker.
Every person in that family lived entirely inside their own little world. In all their daily life, not a single one of them had ever really stepped into someone else's heart.
They were lonely. Their lives looked intertwined, but in truth, they were nothing more than several utterly isolated individuals.
"If a temporary escape will make things easier to bear, Harry, we can leave."
the brooch said once the meal was over.
Harry stared blankly, then looked up to see Sean's face, still calm but softer than usual.
…
In the end, Harry didn't choose to tell the visiting Child Abuse Prevention officer the truth. From that moment, the Dursleys seemed to live in a state of permanent flinching disbelief.
They all returned to Diagon Alley.
On the car ride back, Hermione, Ron, and Neville had watched the whole show through the window Justin cracked open.
Now they were debating loudly—Hermione and Ron agreed Harry was being far too soft on them.
Harry didn't say a word.
At Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, no one went over to bother him. They all decided to let him sit quietly on his own.
Harry stared out at the hazy grey sky; owls flapped overhead, but their wings beat weakly.
Now and then a black rooftop cut across the blazing sunset, hiding the silhouette of a passing eagle. At some point, the ice cream in his glass had melted and was dripping down the side.
Another figure had appeared in the seat opposite:
"You chose to forgive them. That doesn't mean you've forgotten… Harry, staying true to yourself is something pretty remarkable."
Sean's green eyes reflected the red of the sunset, and Harry suddenly felt his nose sting with the urge to cry.
~~~
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