Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures-Chapter 1229: Conversation and Cruelty

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both stepped back, staring in horror at the wand in his hand.

Seemingly ignoring their expressions, Dumbledore gave his wand a casual flick and the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap.

Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

“We may as well be comfortable,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, without lowering his wand.

“Sir?”

“Well, Harry, please sit down too!” said Dumbledore.

Harry took the remaining armchair, choosing not to look at his aunt and uncle, who seemed stunned into silence, their angry expressions having faded now that Dumbledore was a real wizard.

“I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment,” Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon, “but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness.”

A third flick of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair.

The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

One of the glasses disappeared, and Harry guessed it was for Dudley.

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Sure enough, the next second, Dudley ran down the stairs screaming, clutching his butt.

When he saw Dumbledore, he let out a scream of terror and hid behind his parents.

His large, blonde head rising out of the stripy collar of his pajamas looked oddly disembodied.

“And this must be your son, Dudley?” said Dumbledore.

“Oh, little Dudders baby, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell…” Aunt Petunia hugged Dudley in her arms.

“What did you do to him, what did you do to him?” demanded Uncle Vernon.

“Don’t get excited. I didn’t do anything. I just offered him refreshment,” said Dumbledore. “Madam Rosmerta’s finest oak-matured mead, but it seems that you don’t like it,” said Dumbledore, raising his glass to Harry, who caught hold of his own and sipped. He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely.

Seeing them drink it, the Dursleys looked at one another in panic and became even more nervous. They tried to ignore their glasses completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their heads. Harry could not suppress a suspicion that Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it? This drink tastes delicious,” said Dumbledore.

“Enough, what do you have to tell us?” Uncle Vernon mustered up his courage again, waving his hands wildly to keep the cup away from him. “Just like the wizard who came to visit last time, tell us what you want to tell us, and then take the boy away from this house.”

“You seem to have a deep misunderstanding of wizards, but I don’t blame you. Some have indeed not set a good example,” said Dumbledore. “Let us talk about serious matters. As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year’s time…”

“No,” said Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time since Dumbledore’s arrival.

“I’m sorry?” said Dumbledore politely.

“No, he doesn’t. He’s a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn’t turn eighteen until the year after next.”

“Ah, Muggle calculations,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, “but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen.”

Uncle Vernon muttered, “Preposterous”, but Dumbledore ignored him.

“Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. He and his followers are spreading fear and launching various attacks around the world. The Wizarding world is currently in a state of open warfare.”

The Dursleys did not react to Dumbledore’s statement.

In their opinion, the war between wizards was undoubtedly far away from them, and they hadn’t heard anything about it.

Although there had been an unusually high number of natural disasters this year, they didn’t see any connection to a war.

As long as Harry could leave, they would be safe, which was probably what Uncle Vernon had been thinking since last year.

“Well, as you know, Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents’ murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own.”

Dumbledore paused, and though his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him, and the Dursleys suddenly trembled.

“You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped that appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you.”

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between them.

“Us — mistreat Dudders? What do you —?” began Uncle Vernon furiously.

But Dumbledore raised his finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.

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