Harry eyed the pudgy, pig-faced Dudley, struggling to picture what it would be like if Dudley's child turned out to be a wizard. He'd probably look a lot like Crabbe, Draco's lumbering sidekick...
Petunia's expression flickered through a dozen emotions, her lips moving in a barely audible mutter.
Dudley, cowering behind his parents, gave a visible shudder. But his worries lasted only a second—soon, he was once again absorbed by the snacks in his hands.
Vernon growled in a low, guttural voice,
"That's impossible. I'll never allow my descendants to get mixed up with your lot… Never!"
Douglas shrugged, utterly unfazed.
"It's not really up to you, Mr. Dursley. If a young wizard isn't properly educated, they can become something dangerous—terrifying, even. Not just to the Muggle world, but to the wizarding world too.
You wouldn't want your own grandchild to end up tied to a stake someday, would you?"
The image made Vernon shudder involuntarily. He tried to bluster,
"Ridiculous. They've abolished burning at the stake…
What's your point, anyway?"
Douglas grinned.
"My point is, I'd like to smooth things over between us—and make sure Harry has the best possible environment for learning and living.
I know what you dislike, so here's my proposal: from now on, Harry can come to my house during the day to do his homework, and return here to sleep at night. He won't use any of 'those things' you hate inside your house, and all his magical belongings can be moved to my place.
And if, one day, another wizard appears in your family, I'd be delighted to help you out."
Vernon and Petunia exchanged a glance. Truth be told, they weren't really worried about wizards popping up in the family. If scrawny little Harry could survive in that world, surely their own descendants would manage just fine. But the idea of Harry not using magic under their roof? Now that was tempting. As long as he lived there, they were constantly on edge, terrified some magical mishap would make them the talk of the neighborhood.
Harry stood to the side, torn between relief and dread. He was genuinely happy to have a professor-uncle—so why did it feel like his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework was about to come back to haunt him?
"Professor…"
Douglas looked over and winked.
"What's wrong? Still don't believe I'm your uncle?"
Harry shook his head quickly, his face twisted in a complicated grimace.
"Uncle… I really am happy about this, but… could I maybe wait a few days before coming over?"
Vernon couldn't resist a theatrical sneer.
"Ha! Looks like you're not as popular as you thought."
Petunia joined in with an icy laugh.
Douglas stood up, already guessing the reason for Harry's hesitation. After all, he'd been a student once himself. Back in the day, with a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor every year, he'd never bothered with the summer essays—no one ever graded them anyway.
"Go upstairs right now, pack up everything magical, and bring it all to my house. Oh, and don't forget that set of practice papers…"
Harry looked as if he might cry. He'd hoped to buy himself a few more days to finish his homework, but that dream was clearly dead.
While Harry trudged upstairs to gather his things, Douglas turned to the Dursleys.
"By the way, you don't need to leave the door unlocked for him tonight. My house-elf will see him home—no trouble to you at all."
When Harry came back down, arms full of luggage and carrying an empty birdcage, Vernon's face was thunderous. He'd locked all of Harry's school things in the cupboard under the stairs at the start of the summer.
He muttered curses under his breath.
Harry stopped at the cupboard, pointing at the door.
"Um… Uncle, there's more in here. I can't open it…"
Douglas smiled at Vernon and gestured politely. He had no intention of using magic to provoke the Dursleys any further.
Vernon snorted, fumbling for the keys while grumbling,
"Our family's always been honest folk. Why haven't you learned anything from us? Lying straight to your professor's face—if you can't open it, how'd you get those books you're holding?"
Harry shot a nervous glance at Douglas, who was distracted, rummaging in his pocket. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Douglas produced a small wooden token and handed it to Petunia.
"This is a special protective charm—a gift for Dudley. After all, I'm his uncle too.
Don't be too quick to refuse. You must know there are things in this world—creatures ordinary people can't see. If Dudley ever runs into one, this will keep him safe.
Most of the time, it's just a pretty bit of woodwork. People will think it's a trinket."
No matter how much Petunia rejected the magical world, she hesitated when it came to her son's safety. In the end, she accepted the charm, clutching it tightly.
She asked, voice trembling,
"Can… people like us use it?"
Douglas nodded.
"I designed it that way. No magic needed to activate it. It only works against magical creatures, though."
Petunia nodded, immediately threading a string through the token and hanging it around Dudley's neck—almost as if she feared Douglas might change his mind.
Finally, Harry—burdened with bags, trunks, and his birdcage—followed Douglas out the door and down several streets.
Aunt Petunia stood at the doorway, calling out to the neighbors tending their gardens,
"Oh, we've found him a tutor to supervise his studies. He'll be home to sleep at night…"
As they turned onto the next street, Harry nudged Douglas and pointed at a gray-haired old lady playing with her cats in the yard.
"That's Mrs. Figg. Whenever they all went out for Dudley's birthday, or any other occasion, they'd dump me at her house. She's got dozens of cats, and the whole place smells like cabbage. I really don't like it…"
Suddenly, Douglas remembered—wasn't this the Squib Dumbledore had asked to keep an eye on Harry?
He looked over. Mrs. Figg met his gaze and gave him a kindly smile.
Harry thought the smile was for him and quickly grinned back.
Douglas nodded. Mrs. Figg nodded in return.
Neither said a word. They simply walked on.
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