Dursley’s Anger
Felix turned the page back to the table of contents, glanced at a section in the history of modern magic, and fell silent for a moment.
"Please, have a seat. I don't know much about you, but perhaps the book will provide some answers."
Harry noticed the title "Modern History of Magic" on the book's cover, which left him feeling slightly uneasy. Nonetheless, he said nothing more and obediently took a seat as instructed.
Felix then turned to the relevant page and began narrating while reading aloud.
As Felix spoke in gentle, measured tones, a scene from over a decade ago slowly unfolded before Harry's eyes. The scene grew increasingly poignant, sending shivers down his spine.
An hour later, Felix closed the book, took a deep breath, and turned to face Harry.
Harry's eyes were slightly red, betraying the emotions he was trying to conceal. His intertwined fingers, constantly twisting, revealed his true state of mind despite his attempt to appear composed.
After a prolonged silence, Harry began, his voice hoarse and almost choked. After a couple of coughs, he managed a bitter smile and said, "My aunt Petunia and the others always told me... that my parents died in a car accident."
"If you need to express your emotions, please feel free to do so," Felix gestured reassuringly, placing the book on the table.
Harry shook his head. "Actually... I'm not sure what to say. I'm not as saddened as I expected. Uncle Felix, am I... too indifferent?"
"Your reaction is perfectly understandable," Felix shook his head. "After all, you never knew them. We can only glean a fragment of their past from the cold pages of history books. Their likes, dislikes, personalities... we don't even know what they looked like. Perhaps with time, these details will gradually come to light, piercing you like a dull blade..."
Harry remained silent for a moment before saying, "I think... I want to learn more about them."
"Of course, that's only natural," Felix nodded, pushing the book toward Harry.
As he didn't know much about Harry's parents, all he could offer was the history book, which might not provide much insight. Perhaps in the future, when Harry attends Hogwarts, he'll uncover more about James and Lily's lives.
Carefully turning the pages, Harry engrossed himself in the book, while Felix rose and made his way to the kitchen...
Later that evening, Harry bid farewell to Uncle Felix from the sofa and closed the door behind him. London was once again veiled in a light rain. Harry waited until a crimson car disappeared into the night before setting off himself.
That night, Harry felt a sense of confusion. His mind was filled with various sounds, faces, and smiles of his parents, only to be scribbled down and erased by denial.
What were they like? How did they speak? How did they laugh?
Would everything be different if they hadn't died?
A tangled web of thoughts spun in his mind, leaving him unsure of how to untangle them.
Upon returning home, he gazed at the seemingly warm yet cold house. What would it be like if Mom and Dad were here now?
Click——
The door swung open once more, revealing Uncle Vernon clad in a brown coat, his face contorted in anger. Upon spotting Harry at the door, he pushed past him, cursing:
"Get back inside, you're still under curfew!"
After scolding him, he shed his rain-soaked coat and hung it on the rack before heading toward the living room. Petunia emerged from the living room and embraced Vernon.
"You knew about this all along?"
A voice suddenly pierced through Vernon's tirade.
Turning around with some effort, his bulk blocking the entrance, his eyes narrowed into slits, brimming with fury: "What did you say?"
Harry stood his ground, meeting their gaze calmly. "My parents were wizards. You've known for a long time. My mother is your sister, isn't she?!"
Petunia recoiled, her lips trembling, her expression aghast. Vernon's face flushed crimson, his anger simmering like a volcano about to erupt, his massive frame advancing menacingly toward Harry until they were face to face.
"You are not to utter that word in this house!!"
Harry stared back at Uncle Vernon's furious visage and realized he wasn't as afraid as he once was. Instead, he understood why Uncle Felix had cautioned him against wearing his heart on his sleeve.
Although Harry had witnessed Uncle Vernon's angry outbursts countless times before, this time, he discerned something different beneath the surface of his rage.
"Exactly!" Harry's tone was resolute as he chose to confront Uncle Vernon's anger for the first time.
He spoke earnestly, "Why else would you despise magic so vehemently? It's because you know magic."
"Shut up!" Vernon seized Harry's collar, flung open the closet door, and attempted to force him inside.
Harry resisted, clinging to the door frame and shouting hoarsely, "I just want to understand why you lied to me. Is that so wrong?"
"Shut up! Shut up!" Uncle Vernon pried Harry's fingers apart one by one and thrust him onto the narrow bed board inside the closet.
Boom—
The door slammed shut, a cascade of white dust from the stairs settling atop Harry's head. The small window on the door creaked open once more, revealing Uncle Vernon's stern gaze.
"I don't know how you found out about this, but from now on, you're not going anywhere."
He didn't care how Harry had come to know these things; from this moment forward, he would squash any hint of it.
With that said, Vernon shut the small window.
Petunia continued to clutch her chest, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She was shaken by the audacity of Harry's words in their home.
Vernon placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder, attempting to calm her nerves.
Suddenly, a knock echoed at the door.
Both of them were taken aback. Who would visit them at this hour?
Exchanging a glance, Vernon ushered Petunia to the sofa in the living room before approaching the door and swinging it open.
Standing outside was a man in a smart suit, his face sharp and cold. He sported a brown fedora and a woolen coat.
"May I come in? As a neighbor paying a visit," Felix removed his hat, offering a gentle smile.
"No, you may not!" Vernon snapped angrily, but Felix had already stepped inside, admiring the brightness of the room. "It's quite luminous. I've been considering purchasing more lamps for my own home, but alas, I lack the necessary electrical infrastructure."
As he spoke, he hung his hat and coat on the rack.
"I've told you, you're not welcome here—"
But Felix paid no heed, striding forward. Passing by the closet, he heard Harry's muffled voice and recognized it instantly.
Nevertheless, Felix simply opened the small window and addressed Harry, "It's time for you to rest, young man."
"I..."
"Trust me."
With those words, Felix closed the small window once more, gesturing with his hand toward the closet to block out both the internal and external sounds.
Then, he turned to face the dark barrel and the shotgun-toting individual.
"Mr. Dursley, I only wish for a calm discussion regarding the child. Are you certain you want to proceed like this?"