The way Harry was acting—completely ignoring them—left the Dursley family feeling deeply offended.
What on earth was wrong with him today? How dared he ignore them, even disobey Petunia?
Dudley, who loved bullying Harry more than anything, was the first to stomp over. He reached out, intending to shove Harry.
"Cousin, how dare you not listen to Mum? Get in there and make breakfast!"
But just as his sticky hand was about to touch Harry, Harry gave the tiniest flick of his wrist. Dudley suddenly lurched backwards as if an invisible force had slammed into his chest and crashed to the floor.
The kitchen fell abruptly silent. Even Dudley, sprawled on the ground, looked completely lost. Only Harry went on calmly sipping his juice and grabbing a slice of white bread to dip in the sauce.
From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's angle, they hadn't seen Harry's little gesture at all.
They just thought Harry had pushed Dudley really hard and knocked him over, which made both of their faces twist with anger.
Vernon's fury turned his already fat, blubbery face even uglier. He stormed forward, meaning to grab Harry by the collar and give this "impudent boy" a proper lesson.
"Looks like I haven't smacked some sense into you for a while, boy!"
Faced with his uncle's rage, Harry didn't so much as flinch.
That face, which once terrified him, now felt… frankly, unimpressive.
Compared to the bloodthirsty demons he'd faced, Uncle Vernon was practically gentle.
That didn't mean he was going to let Vernon grab his collar, though. Harry hated that—being dangled by the front of his shirt, like he was some owl a hunter had caught.
So he waved his hand again, a brief glimmer of golden sigils flashing across his fingers.
In an instant, Vernon was yanked into the air by an invisible force gripping his collar, swinging back and forth between the ceiling and the wall.
The sight was so bizarre that the Dursleys couldn't help but scream.
"Ahhh! What's happening? Put me down!"
"Dad! Dad!"
Petunia, frantic, suddenly noticed Harry still unhurriedly eating his bread, and she understood at once who was responsible.
Of the four people in the room, only Harry had any real chance of having a wizard's talent.
Only he could do something this impossible.
She half-turned as if to grab him and force him to stop casting, but quickly realised that the Harry standing here now was no longer someone she could threaten. She froze in place, then drew herself up, her voice shrill and harsh.
"Damn it! You didn't even go to that freak school—how are you doing magic?
"Put him down! Put Vernon down, now!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. Aunt Petunia didn't seem surprised by his power—only puzzled as to how he could wield it.
So this world really did have magic too?
Thinking back to how his power had awakened when he arrived in New York, Harry had a gut feeling things weren't as simple as he'd once believed.
It seemed his original world also had its own extraordinary forces.
He had only meant to teach Uncle Vernon a lesson—nothing more. After all, the Dursleys had raised him for eleven years. So he released his telekinesis.
When his feet hit the floor again, Vernon's stomach lurched as if it were doing somersaults; he very nearly threw up.
Hands trembling, he pointed at Harry, trying to shout,
"You… you… you little—"
But when he saw Harry start to lift his hand again, he snapped his mouth shut at once, collapsed into a chair, and simply sat there panting heavily, glaring at Harry with all the hatred he could muster.
That kind of "cute" look didn't even register as a threat to someone who'd slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands, of demons.
Silence fell over the Dursley household once more. Vernon and Petunia stared at Harry as he ate his bread, their expressions a tangle of emotions.
As for Dudley, Harry's favourite bully, he had long since been scared stupid and had very nearly wet himself.
Harry swallowed the last bite of his bread, picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth, then turned to Aunt Petunia.
"All right, my dear aunt," he said. "It looks like you've been hiding a lot from me. We need to have a proper talk.
"About my parents… and about what you mean by 'magic'—and that 'freak school' you mentioned. Tell me everything."
Seeing Harry looking down at her from above like this, Petunia bristled with resentment.
"You nasty little brat," she snapped. "You're just like that Lily—always so smug and pleased with yourself.
"Fine, fine, I'll tell you. Your parents weren't normal people. They were wizards. And that freak school is called Hogwarts—it's a school that trains wizards."
"Wizards…" Harry murmured, ignoring Petunia's attitude.
So now he finally knew where his power came from. His parents had been wizards, which meant he'd been born with magic in his blood.
But that only left him with more questions. "Then where are my parents?"
Petunia's face dimmed for a moment, though her words still came out sharp as ever.
"Your freak parents were killed by a Dark wizard. Do you have any idea what kind of risk we took taking you in?
"For the first two or three years, we hardly dared sleep, terrified that the Dark wizard who killed your parents would come and murder us too—and now you use magic on us!"
Her long neck stiffened, fists clenched, eyes full of grievance and anger.
Harry blinked. He truly hadn't known any of this, and it did soften his view of Aunt Petunia somewhat.
His opinion of Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley, however, didn't change. He knew perfectly well that if they'd taken him in at all, it was almost certainly because Petunia had insisted.
He fell silent for a moment, then asked curiously,
"My mother was a witch. As her older sister, you aren't one?"
His words were like a sharp knife twisting in Petunia's chest. Forgetting her fear of magic, she screamed,
"Your mother was a great big freak, and you're a little freak! How could I ever be like you?"
Watching her reaction, Harry nodded slightly. He could more or less guess what was going through her mind.
Aunt Petunia had probably envied his mother very deeply, secretly wanting to become a witch herself. But she had no talent for magic, and that jealousy had turned into hatred.
It explained a lot about why she had always treated him so badly.
Understanding it, however, didn't mean Harry was willing to forgive them.
Eleven years of bullying and humiliation weren't something you just forgot.
He tapped a finger lightly on the tabletop, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as an idea came to him—a neat, two-birds-with-one-stone solution.
"Aunt Petunia, don't get so worked up," Harry said mildly. "It's possible I might be able to turn you into sorcerers."
"Who'd want to be a sorcerer? I'd never… wait, what did you just say?" Petunia's eyes went wide with disbelief as she stared at him.
Vernon and Dudley, both still shaken, were staring too.
If you could really wield mysterious magic… who would turn that down? Who could?
Seeing their reactions only made Harry more confident in his guess. His grin widened.
"Of course," he went on, "if you want magic, you'll have to pay a price. That's only fair.
"But first, you'll need to sign a contract with me."