Harry had long ago stopped caring about or looking for the Dursleys’ approval, yet the coldness of the words stung.
“What do you mean by remove the protection?” he asked stoically, refusing to give her the satisfaction of knowing her words had hurt him. “The blood protection from my mother remains as long as I can call this house my home…at least until my birthday. He told you I’d be returning one more time.”
“Not the blood protection for you,” Aunt Petunia snapped. “This isn’t about you. I don’t care what happens to you or any of your freak world. As far as I’m concerned, we’d all be better off if you all just killed each other off. I want to know about the protections on Dudley. Dumbledore withdrew his part of the agreement, didn’t he?”
Harry blinked, nonplussed. “What are you on about?” he asked coldly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you never were very bright, were you? The spell he cast on Dudley. It’s obviously not working, because he keeps making these freakish things happen.”
“Dudley is a wizard?” Harry asked incredulously, the pieces all finally clicking into place. He felt as if the room was spinning, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with his throbbing temple. He knew magic ran in families – the Creevey brothers proved that. They were Muggleborn, and yet both were wizards…but Dudley. How could this have happened?
“Of course he’s not a wi…a.wi… He’s not a freak,” Aunt Petunia snapped, her voice nothing more than a high-pitched whisper. “I made a deal with your headmaster. He would block this unnaturalness from Duddydums, and I would take you in. It was all arranged. Then, after last year, whatever it was he did stopped working, because Dudley started having instances of these oddities every few days, and I can’t stop them. I want you to fix it. You do whatever it was he had done before. You can fix this, and you owe us that much.”
Harry’s mind was racing. How could this be? Would Dumbledore really have suppressed Dudley’s magic for all these years? It didn’t seem like something he would ever do. It didn’t make any sense.
As if from a fog, Harry’s mind recalled the way Aunt Petunia had always catered to Dudley’s every whim. How she’d acted as if the world revolved around keeping him calm and not letting him get upset. Harry’s worst punishments always came as a direct result of Dudley getting upset. He wondered if Petunia’s obsessive need to clean was only a byproduct of her anxiety over cleaning up what she considered a huge mess.
His mind continued to pick out little instances of times when Dudley had been upset. His thoughts again drifted to the night the Dementors had attacked, and Dudley had cowered in fear. Harry had wondered what Dudley could have been remembering. Could it have been some unexplained bits of magic that Dudley had fought to suppress? When Harry had found Dudley in the darkness, he’d had his hands clamped over his mouth. Harry had told him not to open his mouth, but when did Dudley ever listen to Harry? Could Dudley have actually seen the Dementors?
Harry felt as if his world had just spun completely out of his control yet again.
“Why would Dumbledore agree to hide Dudley’s magic? It doesn’t sound at all like Dumbledore,” he said slowly, his gaze boring into his aunt’s.
“He didn’t want to do it. We argued for quite some time about it. I’d seen the strange things that happened from the time my Dudley was still in his cot. I knew what it meant; I remembered it from Lily. There was no way I would allow it to happen again, not after I’d worked so hard to make a normal life for my family.
“It was the only way I would allow you to stay, and he was desperate for that to happen. I told him there was no way he’d ever get his hands on Dudley, anyway. Vernon and I would never allow him to go to that freak school. We raised him with a healthy loathing of all things so unnatural. Dudley is a good boy,” Aunt Petunia said, crossing her arms defiantly.
Harry rolled his eyes. It all made sense. Certainly the Dursleys wouldn’t have allowed Dudley to attend Hogwarts, and Harry knew from Dudley’s reaction a moment ago that he never would have wanted to go, anyway.
“So, what did Professor Dumbledore do, exactly?” Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity. Aunt Petunia had never willingly told him anything in the past. Don’t ask questions had always been her standard response.
“How am I supposed to know how all your nonsense works?” Aunt Petunia snapped. “We took you in, and he did something to take Dudley’s name off of a register or some such thing. For a time, Dudley stopped making strange things happen. The only time anything abnormal happened was when Dudley would get upset, and I could easily blame that on you so Vernon never had to know.”
“Uncle Vernon doesn’t know his son is a wizard?” Harry asked, secretly appreciating the humor in that statement.
“Of course he doesn’t know. And Dudley is NOT one of you. Your headmaster did something to control it, and I want you to do the same thing now,” Aunt Petunia said, crossing her bony arms across her chest.
“I don’t even know how he could have done such a thing, never mind how do it,” Harry said, aghast.
“Well, if you want to stay here, you’d better think of something,” she snapped.
Harry’s mind clicked on a way to make this work to his advantage. “All right. I’ll try and find something. I’m going to need some help with it, though,” he said, rapidly changing gears.
“What do you mean help?” she asked suspiciously.
“My friends, Ron and Hermione – they’re brilliant with stuff like this. I’ll ask them to come and help me put it together. They’ll have to stay here for a while, though – while we research the correct spells to use. I’m certain it’s very complicated magic if Professor Dumbledore did it,” Harry said, his mind already plotting.
Aunt Petunia frowned with disapproval. “I don’t know.”
“All right, well…I can’t do it alone, so I suppose I’ll just be going,” he said, going so far as to turn around, rising and taking a step towards the door.
“No!” Aunt Petunia screeched. “All right… Your friend can bunk in with you, and the girl can stay in the guestroom. I won’t have any funny business under my roof.”
Harry smirked, envisioning the color Ron’s ears would have turned had he heard that remark. This was turning out better than he could have hoped. “All right, then.”
“You have to promise me you’ll all stay out of Vernon and Dudley’s way. When Vernon is home, you must stay up in your room, and I want this done as quickly as possible.”
“We’re agreed on that, then,” Harry mumbled.
“Oh, and another thing. Your friends will have to provide their own food. I’m not feeding any extra of your freaky friends. Vernon would never have it. They can bring their own or you can share your portion, but I won’t be responsible for them,” Aunt Petunia said, her haughty demeanor returning.
Harry had no choice but to agree. He hadn’t really thought about how they would eat. He could only hope that Hermione would be better prepared. She was certainly familiar enough with the Dursleys’ penchant for withholding nourishment. They’d just have to figure something out. Maybe if Mrs. Weasley wasn’t too upset with them she’d send something, or maybe Ginny would help…
Ginny.
On second thought, Harry decided that she couldn’t be involved with this in any way. It wasn’t fair to her, and he didn’t think he could stand to have her so close and yet so far. They’d have to come up with something else.
But her presence here would certainly be a nice contrast to Aunt Petunia, his mind said, betraying him.
Stop it, he told himself firmly. Ginny would not be involved.
“I’m going to send an owl. I’m certain they’ll be able to arrive shortly – they’re both of age,” Harry said, watching the panic fill Aunt Petunia’s eyes once again.
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