The Madness of Uncle Vernon
Harry looked at the letter in his hands. There was no address written on it—apparently it had been stuck in the larger envelope addressed to Uncle Vernon. Looking up at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, Harry noticed they weren’t as interested in his letter as they were in Uncle Vernon’s, as they were still speaking to one another in quick, subdued tones and were ignoring him.
Curious, Harry opened the letter. It was from Dumbledore:
Hello Harry, I hope your summer has been---bearable.
I am writing to ask you to leave Privet Drive and join me in a location that I cannot reveal at the moment. I trust, however, that it is a place you would very much like to visit.
I am sorry Harry for the way things have turned out. I understand if you are not yet ready to re-enter our world and take the pressures that wait you here. I also understand if you have no desire to speak to me. I ask only for the chance to make up for 15 years of keeping you in the dark.
Tomorrow evening at precisely 5:00 I will provide a means for you to leave Privet Drive. If you desire to leave, use this means and it will bring you directly to me. If not, I fully understand and arrangements for your removal will be made at the end of the summer holidays.
Bless you Harry,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry felt a twinge of guilt: The part about understanding if Harry didn’t want to talk to him reminded Harry that his last meeting with the Headmaster had involved a lot of yelling on his part and the near total destruction of the office. Harry had later admitted to himself, albeit grudgingly, that Dumbledore really was doing what he thought best and he had no right to be mad at him. That was also the day he told Harry about the prophecy…
Harry resolved to apologize to Dumbledore when he met him the next day.
This still didn’t explain Uncle Vernon’s reaction to the first letter, however. Harry got a feeling that there was something else written in it…
The thought was forgotten in a moment in a rush of happiness: He was leaving Privet Drive! The excitement began to build up as he thought about where he would be going: The Burrow, perhaps…No, the Burrow wouldn’t be safe, most likely he would be sent to Grimmauld Place. It was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and probably the safest place outside of Hogwarts itself. Harry wasn’t sure how he would feel about returning to Grimmauld Place after the death of Sirius, but anything was better than being stuck in Privet Drive.
Thinking he’d better get packed, Harry folded up the letter and made for the staircase.
“Well, I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” He mentioned to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon in passing.
Aunt Petunia gasped and Uncle Vernon turned purple. Suddenly they were very interested in him.
“What? Tomorrow? I’ve heard nothing of this!” Uncle Vernon sputtered.
Harry hesitated on the first stair.
“Well that’s what my letter said. Tomorrow at 5:00. I need to go pack.” He started again up the stairs.
“Now see here! You’re not going anywhere, boy, until I see this…this Dooblydure, Doopendor—whatever his name is!” Uncle Vernon barked.
Something very strange is going on here, Harry thought to himself. Since when did the Dursley’s care when he left, so long as he was gone? And why did Uncle Vernon want to see Dumbledore?
“Well I don’t think he’s coming. Why do you want to see Professor Dumbledore?” Harry replied suspiciously.
“He’d better come, or you’re not going!” Uncle Vernon snapped back, not answering Harry’s question. “What does the letter say? How are they going to fetch you?”
“It didn’t say.” Harry answered truthfully.
“Didn’t say? Rubbish! Give me that letter.” As he grabbed the letter out of Harry’s hands, the envelope burst into a strange blue flame. Uncle Vernon dropped it with a yelp.
“DAMN! What the devil is this?” He sputtered as the three watched the letter burn into ashes on the floor.
Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, his face screwed up in anger.
“Come on then, how’re they going to fetch you?” Uncle Vernon demanded, a crazy look in his eye. “What will it be this time? Another flying car?” Foam had started to gather at the corners of his mouth. “A magical doorway opening up out of our pantry? The refrigerator sprouting wings and blasting you off to the moon?” He simpered sarcastically.
Harry looked back at him; half astonished, half amused at his behaviour. What had that letter said?
“Vernon, please! Calm down…”
“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN PETUNIA!” he shouted. “First we have that giant ogre trashing up our house with those accursed envelopes, then a flying Ford Anglia rips apart our window, THEN the boy makes a balloon out of Marge and runs off into the night, THEN that imbecile and his red-headed brats blow up our fireplace and Dudley nearly chokes to death on his own tongue, and then, THEN Petunia, we travel halfway across the damn country for a lawn competition that DOESN’T EXIST!”
It had never really occurred to Harry, but Uncle Vernon was probably quite hurt when he found he hadn’t won the award for the Best Kept Lawn last year.
Uncle Vernon’s rage continued:
“NO. No. I’ve had it with tricks and magic and make-believe lawn contests and the whole lot of it!” Here he turned to face Harry, and emphasized each point by jabbing his stubby finger into Harry’s chest.
“You tell that…Headmaster of yours that if he wants you, he’s going to have to stop by the house and call on us like a decent human being. And if he asks very politely, then maybe, MAYBE…we’ll let you go.”
“But, Uncle Vernon…”
“NO! You’re not going anywhere until I meet the man who dumped you on our doorstep fifteen years ago!”
And with that Uncle Vernon stomped out of the room.
****
Harry was slightly nervous the next day. Uncle Vernon was obviously upset and it wasn’t likely that he could ever get out of the house while his uncle was in such a state. Whatever that letter had said had really shocked Uncle Vernon…
On top of this, Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned exactly HOW Harry would be leaving in the first place. Should he take the Knight Bus? Would somebody come to sneak him out like last year? The Floo network? Harry had no idea.
As he walked down the stairs for breakfast Uncle Vernon greeted Harry by saying,
“Not going anywhere…” He hung the last syllable of “anywhere” like a note from a bizarre song, and Harry noticed a strange look in his uncle’s eyes.
Evidently a night’s rest hadn’t lessened Uncle Vernon’s determination one bit. He kept looking at Harry while they ate and muttered under his breath, “No more…not going until we have a chat…I’ll be damned…after 16 years…”
After finishing breakfast, Harry cleared his plate and decided to start his morning chore of weeding the front flower bed when Uncle Vernon’s bellowing voice stopped him:
“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING!”
“I’m going to weed the front garden LIKE YOU TOLD ME TOO!” Harry shouted back angrily.
Uncle Vernon rose from the table, napkin still tucked into his shirt, and scuttled towards Harry.
“No, no, I don’t think you’ll be going out there today, boy. Do you think I’m stupid?”
With the napkin tucked in his collar, bits of bacon and spit stuck in his mustache and the maniacal look in his eye, Harry thought it best not to answer that question.
“Fine!” Harry flopped onto the nearby sofa. “What are we going to do then? Shall we sit on the couch and stare at one another all day?”
Uncle Vernon grinned back maliciously.