Vernon’s footsteps faltered.
He turned and saw a middle-aged man wearing glasses walking toward him.
“Yes, I am.” Vernon looked at him warily.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Martin.
I’m a journalist.” The man smiled and extended a hand.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
“No, you may not,” Vernon said coldly.
“I haven’t got time.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes.” Martin remained unmoved.
“I’d like to ask whether your nephew, Harry Potter, lives here.”
Vernon’s expression changed instantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He strode toward his car.
“Mr.
Dursley!” Martin hurried after him.
“I heard Harry Potter lived in your home for eleven years.
Is that true?”
Vernon didn’t answer.
He yanked open the car door and climbed inside.
“Mr.
Dursley!” Martin knocked on the car window.
“What do you think of the contents of that book?”
Vernon started the engine, slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the car shot forward.
In the rear-view mirror, he saw Martin standing where he was, writing something in his notebook.
Damn it.
Vernon slapped the steering wheel hard.
This was becoming more and more troublesome.
Meanwhile, Petunia was standing by the window, watching the situation outside through a crack in the curtains.
She saw Vernon drive away in a rage, while the crowd outside gathered together, discussing something.
Some were even aiming cameras at her house and taking photographs.
Her heart was filled with panic and unease.
She went to Dudley’s bedroom door and knocked gently.
“Dudley?
Are you in there?”
But Dudley didn’t answer.
She pushed the door open and found Dudley lying on the bed, wearing headphones and playing on a handheld game console.
“Dudley, Mummy’s talking to you.”
Dudley pulled off his headphones and looked at her impatiently.
“What?”
“There are lots of people outside.
Don’t go out, all right?”
“Why?”
Dudley walked to the window, lifted the curtain, and glanced outside.
“Whoa, there are loads of people!
What are they doing?”
“I don’t know.” Petunia shook her head.
“Just don’t go outside.”
Dudley curled his lip and lay back down on the bed.
What they didn’t know was that their neighbours had also been stunned by the scene.
Next door, Mrs.
Winston stood at her front door, looking at the crowd outside, and said to her husband, “Dear, are all these people here to see the Dursleys’ house?”
“Seems so,” Mr.
Winston said.
“I hear their nephew is the main character in a book.”
“What book?”
“I’m not too sure.
I think it’s about a boy who can do magic.”
Mrs.
Winston nodded thoughtfully.
Just then, a young girl ran over, holding a book in her hands.
“Ma’am, are you the Dursleys’ neighbour?”
“Yes.” Mrs.
Winston nodded.
“Then have you seen Harry Potter?
The boy who used to live here?”
Mrs.
Winston thought for a moment.
“Do you mean that little boy with glasses?
Thin, with messy hair?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The girl nearly jumped with excitement.
“I’ve seen him a few times,” Mrs.
Winston said.
“The child was very quiet.
He didn’t talk much.”
“Did he really live in the cupboard under the stairs?”
Mrs.
Winston froze for a moment.
“That… I never paid attention to.”
The girl sighed in disappointment, but soon became excited again.
“Then do you know how he was treated?
Was his aunt nice to him?”
Mrs.
Winston hesitated.
“That… I’m not too sure either.
But the child did often wear old clothes, and he didn’t look very spirited.”
The girl’s eyes lit up.
“So it really is just like the book says!”
She turned and ran back to the crowd, announcing loudly, “I found out!
Harry Potter really did live here!
He really wore old clothes!”
The crowd burst into cheers.
“My God, everything in the book is true!”
“I knew it.
Those details were too realistic to be made up!”
“Who exactly is Allen Wayne?
How does he know everything so clearly?”
“Who cares who he is?
Right now, I think Harry Potter really exists, and magic really exists too!”
By the time Vernon returned, he found that there were so many people outside the window he could no longer even see the road.
At least a hundred people had gathered on Privet Drive, with more than a dozen tents pitched along the street.
“This is madness!” Vernon roared.
He picked up the phone and dialed the police station again.
“Sir, we’ve already sent officers over.
But as I told you before, as long as they haven’t committed any unlawful act, we can’t forcibly remove them.”
“So you’re just letting them camp outside my house?!”
“Sir, they’re in a public area.
If you feel you’re being harassed, you may consider applying for a restraining order.”
“A restraining order?
How long will that take to be approved?”
“Usually one to two weeks.”
“One to two weeks?!” Vernon nearly smashed the telephone.
“Are you joking?”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but that’s the procedure.”
Vernon hung up, trembling with anger.
He ignored the crowd shouting his name and went straight back into the house.
Even now, he still didn’t know what the book actually said.
He had tried to buy the same book everyone outside was holding at a bookshop earlier that day.
But the shop assistant had always told him with a regretful expression that it was already sold out.
As for asking the crowd outside to lend him a copy?
He would never do that in his life.
But more and more people came knocking on his door, all wanting to see the old cupboard where Harry had once lived.
Every single one of them was driven away by a furious Vernon.
Unable to bear the disturbance any longer, he simply drew every curtain, locked every door and window tightly, and had the whole family huddle inside the house like prisoners trapped in a fortress.
“This is a nightmare!” Vernon paced back and forth in the living room.
“Where did all these people come from?!”
Petunia sat on the sofa, her face pale.
“Vernon, what are we going to do?”
“How should I know?” Vernon snapped.
“I’ve already called the police, but those policemen are completely useless!”
“That lot of lunatics!” he said through gritted teeth.
“What do they think this place is?
An amusement park?!”
Petunia looked frightened.
“Vernon… perhaps we should move.”
“Move?” Vernon turned around.
“Move where?
Those people will find us!
They’re everywhere, like locusts!”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Vernon walked to the front door and looked through the peephole.
Outside stood two people in dark blue uniforms, wearing badges.
They were investigators from social services. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Vernon’s heart gave a violent jolt.
He opened the door and forced out a smile.
“You two… is there something I can help you with?”
“Good afternoon, Mr.
Dursley.” The older investigator showed his identification.
“We’re from the Surrey Child Protection Service.
We’ve received a report and need to conduct a routine inspection of your home.”
“A report?” Vernon’s voice rose an octave.
“What report?”
“Regarding the living conditions of a minor child,” the investigator said calmly.
“According to the informant, a boy named Harry Potter once lived in your home for an extended period in unsuitable living conditions.”
Vernon’s face instantly turned the colour of liver.
“This is all a misunderstanding!” he said loudly.
“That boy is our nephew!
We treated him very well!”
“May we come in and take a look?” the investigator asked.
Vernon blocked the doorway, caught between advancing and retreating.
“If you refuse to cooperate with the investigation, we will consider—”
Before the investigator could finish, Vernon gritted his teeth and stepped aside.
The two investigators entered the house and looked around.
“May I ask where the boy’s room was?” the older investigator asked.
Petunia clearly didn’t know how to answer.
“I believe it was the cupboard under the stairs?” The investigator phrased it as a question, but his tone was clearly certain.
When Vernon heard this, he knew he couldn’t hide it.
He could only point beneath the stairs.
“He… he did live there before.”
The investigator walked over and opened the narrow door.
Inside was a cramped space, piled with miscellaneous objects.
An old mattress lay on the floor.
The investigator bent down, examined it carefully, then straightened and wrote several notes in his notebook.
“What is the area of this room?”
“I… I’m not quite sure,” Vernon stammered.
“Approximately two square metres,” the investigator said.
“No window, poor ventilation.
Unsuitable as a child’s bedroom.”
“He wasn’t in the room most of the time!” Vernon argued.
“He liked playing outside!”
The investigator ignored him and turned to Petunia.
“Madam, may I ask about the boy’s usual diet?”
Petunia’s face was somewhat pale.
“He… he ate with us.”
“How much was he allowed to eat?”
“The same as any normal person.”
The investigator nodded and wrote something else in his notebook.
“We also need to understand the boy’s education.
Did he attend school?”
“Yes,” Vernon said.
“He went to… Stonewall High nearby.”
“How were his grades?”
“Well…” Vernon hesitated.
“Average, I suppose.”
The investigator closed his notebook and looked at Vernon and Petunia.
“Mr.
and Mrs.
Dursley, based on our preliminary investigation, there are indeed issues with the boy’s living environment.”
“However, we’ll still need to conduct further investigation and gather evidence.
If it is ultimately determined that you were guilty of negligent guardianship or abuse, you may face legal sanctions.”
Vernon’s legs went a little weak.
He braced himself against the wall, his voice trembling.
“We… we really didn’t abuse him…”
“The law will determine the truth fairly,” the investigator said.
With that, he turned and left.
After the door closed, Vernon collapsed onto the sofa, sweating profusely.
Petunia sat beside him, and tears finally began to fall.
“Vernon… are we going to prison?”
“No,” Vernon said.
But there was no confidence in his voice.
“We didn’t do anything wrong…”
Yet as he said those words, his mind was filled with all the things he had said and done to Harry over the years.
Those things he had always thought perfectly natural—
Looking at them now, they did seem… rather excessive.
~