Petunia let out a cold, brittle laugh.
"I always knew you were just like her. Just like him. Ever since your family's car accident, I suspected as much.
Especially when you vanished from the orphanage at eleven—no one could say where you'd gone, what sort of school would take you. That's when I knew I was right. It was exactly the same as her, all those years ago…"
Douglas was taken aback. He'd guessed the "her" in question was Harry's mother, but he hadn't expected Petunia had actually gone to the orphanage to ask about him.
Harry blinked in confusion. Another car accident? He almost wanted to laugh—his aunt's lies really lacked imagination. She always fell back on the same excuse, just like when she told him his own parents had died in a car crash.
Petunia turned her disdainful gaze on Harry.
"You want to know what he is to you, don't you?
His mother and my mother were cousins…
Ha! Maybe you're thinking this means you can move out of our house. Let me be perfectly clear: that's never going to happen…"
She then fixed Douglas with a glare, her voice dropping to a harsh growl.
"I don't care what you want, and I certainly don't care what sort of relationship you have in that world of lunatics.
But don't even think about taking him away. As long as he's underage, you can forget it…"
Vernon hurried to steady his wife, glaring at Douglas with all the bluster he could muster.
Douglas just smiled and glanced at Dudley, who was still happily munching on his candy. The sight sent the Dursleys into a panic—they quickly shielded their son, terrified he'd end up like Marge.
Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud. So his aunt and uncle did have things they were afraid of.
Douglas shot Harry a warning look, and the laughter died in his throat. Then he turned back to the Dursleys.
"Cousin Petunia, you've got the wrong idea. I'm not here to take Harry away. Headmaster Dumbledore already explained it to me—Harry can't leave here until he comes of age.
He also told me the reason why. So I'm actually glad you've honored your agreement and haven't just thrown Harry out."
Before the Dursleys could react, Harry stared at them in disbelief. This was the second time Aunt Petunia had insisted he couldn't leave—and now Douglas was agreeing with her.
He blurted out,
"But why? Why can't I leave…? I mean, what kind of agreement did Aunt Petunia make with Professor Dumbledore?"
He noticed Douglas looking at him again, and his voice faltered. It dawned on him that, even if Douglas was technically his uncle, he had no obligation to take Harry in—and didn't seem inclined to, anyway.
Douglas explained gently,
"Harry, you need to understand something. This isn't just their house—it's the home where you've lived for over a decade. No matter how harshly they treated you, there's one thing you can't deny: they kept you alive."
Harry shot a look at Aunt Petunia, then back at Douglas, his voice bristling with resentment.
"I would've done just fine in an orphanage…"
Douglas shook his head.
"When I say 'kept you alive,' I don't just mean they fed and clothed you. There's more to it than that. Your mother cast a powerful, ancient magic—a protection that only works as long as you live in a place that shares her blood and can truly be called your home. So long as that's true, you're safe from certain people."
There was one thing Douglas left unsaid: the magic worked both ways. It didn't just protect Harry—it also shielded Petunia and her son. That was why, despite her obvious dislike, Petunia had never truly turned Harry away.
Petunia pressed her lips together, her face tight with discomfort. Finally, she asked,
"So why are you here, then? It should be obvious our family doesn't welcome you."
Douglas blinked innocently, then said with complete seriousness,
"Didn't I say? As Harry's professor and uncle, I'm here to check his summer homework.
And, well, there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you."
At that, Harry suddenly felt his legs go weak. Maybe he was better off not acknowledging this professor-uncle after all. Was it too late to run?
Suddenly, a thought struck Uncle Vernon. He remembered the warning letter Harry had received last year—the one that mentioned the Ministry of Magic, the people who dealt with unruly wizards.
He snapped,
"Discuss what? What could we possibly have to discuss with your lot? Get out! If you don't leave, I'll call the police—don't think being 'family' will save you…
Of course, I know the police are useless against your kind, but isn't there a Ministry of Magic? I'll write to them—report you for trespassing!"
Douglas raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised Vernon even knew about the Ministry of Magic.
Harry was just as shocked—he'd never imagined his uncle paid any attention to the magical world.
But Douglas pressed on,
"I don't know exactly how bad things have been for Harry here, but I heard plenty from outside the door. And that fat woman—she seemed to know all about our family and wasn't shy about insulting us.
Cousin Petunia, don't you have anything to say about that? I'm just curious—how can you let someone insult your blood relatives so openly?"
Petunia's face darkened further—though, to be fair, it hadn't looked pleasant since the moment Douglas walked in.
Vernon stepped in front of his wife, roaring,
"Get out! We don't want relatives like you here, or I really will report you to that Ministry of Magic!"
Douglas sighed,
"Mr. Dursley, I really don't think you should be so hostile toward us…"
Vernon snorted,
"Hostile? I'm not hostile. I just don't want anything to do with you weirdos—completely abnormal, the lot of you…"
Douglas was momentarily lost for words, but carried on,
"There's something you might not realize. What you call 'weird'—being a wizard—is inherited, passed down through blood.
That's why Harry's mother could be a witch, and why I'm a wizard—we share a magical ancestor. Which means Dudley shares that bloodline too.
Of course, he's not a wizard himself, but who's to say his children won't be? What if Dudley's son turns out to be a wizard? Wouldn't you want him to have family he could rely on in that strange world? Like Harry—and me…"
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