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Chapter 20 - Chapter 020 — Bernadette and Harry Potter

"Disappeared?"

Harry looked around, confused. The man was right there, sitting on the sofa eating the snacks. And the others seemed genuinely frightened — faces pale, eyes wide.

"But he—"

Then Harry blinked, and thought of the Leaky Cauldron.

When he and Hagrid had walked past it on the way to Diagon Alley, it had been like that — ordinary people simply didn't register it. Only wizards could see it for what it was.

His eyes lit up. The man was a wizard. That was why one stamp left a dent in solid pavement.

This was the first time Harry had encountered a wizard outside Diagon Alley — other than Hagrid. He felt an unexpected pull toward the door, a kind of warmth, an impulse to say hello.

"Ahhhh!"

Dudley scrambled to his feet, sobbing, and bolted for home. The pleasant feeling dissolved. Harry felt the dread settle in even before he'd fully thought it through.

He was going to be in trouble.

Back inside, Bernadette made short work of the haul — soft, crumbly sandwich biscuits, spicy crisps, thick chocolate, and that peculiar, sharp-tasting cola she'd had before.

Considerably more interesting than roast chicken.

She finished everything, drained the cola, and belched with quiet satisfaction.

The drowsiness arrived not long after. She stretched out on the sofa, put a book over her face, and let the evening breeze coming through the window carry her off.

She slept.

Until voices broke through — sharp and furious.

She opened her eyes. Dark outside now. The street was lit by the orange glow of lamp posts.

Three figures on the pavement. One enormously fat. One the size of one of the fat one's legs. And a woman, screaming with an intensity that suggested she was capable of sustaining it indefinitely.

"Come out here, you coward! Stop hiding! I'm not afraid of you! I'll find you — you'll pay for this!"

"My poor Dudley — barely ate half his dinner — my poor darling—"

Harry trailed behind them with his head down. Half. That's still three times what I get.

Inside, Bernadette watched them through the window.

Interesting. They can't see the house. Or me.

The Muggle-Repelling Charm — she'd read about it in his notes. A spell to make ordinary people unable to perceive the warded area. Similar in effect to what a Mystic would call "Concealment."

Convenient. She wouldn't need to go out then.

Unless she couldn't help it.

As she thought this, her eyes met Harry's across the street, quite by accident.

She was mildly surprised. That child can see me.

The shouting outside continued for another ten minutes. Eventually it petered out, and the anger redirected itself at the nearest available target.

"And you, Harry — you little troublemaker, you freak. Can't you behave like a normal person? Why is it always you causing problems?"

"I knew nothing good ever came from you. I said it from the beginning. You're going to end up just like your horrible parents — ruining everything around you—"

"I'm not a freak—"

Harry caught himself halfway. "It was Dudley who—"

"Oh? Are you saying there's something wrong with our lovely Dudley? You ungrateful little wretch. If you're so unhappy with the Dursleys — with everything we've done for you — then don't bother coming home tonight!"

Harry went still. "No — I didn't mean it like that — I'm sorry, it was my fault—"

"Hmph."

Vernon's face split into a cold, contemptuous smile. "Apologising now, are we? Too late. Let this be a lesson to you — without this family's generosity, nobody else would have you."

"Just like your father. No manners. Nothing but trouble."

He put his arm around Petunia. "Come along, dear. We'll deal with the other one in daylight."

Petunia shot one last look of pure loathing at Harry. "You think very carefully about your behaviour, Harry."

Harry watched them go. He didn't follow.

He knew better. They were furious, and they had no one to direct it at. The closer he got right now, the worse it would be.

He didn't really care what they said about him. He'd stopped caring about that long ago. What he minded — what he'd always minded — was hearing his parents spoken about that way. Parents he'd never known.

Soon. Just a bit longer. Then I'll be at their school.

He'd glanced once more at the house where the wizard lived, and was turning to leave — there was a bench in the park down the road — when a voice came from behind him.

"Hey. Kid."

He turned. The man from earlier was standing at the door.

Harry stopped and bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for this afternoon. Really."

Bernadette looked at the boy quietly for a moment.

He seemed timid on the surface. He wasn't, underneath. Something in the way he held himself.

It reminded her of someone.

The way Cattleya had been, the first time they'd met.

Her expression softened, just slightly. A decision formed.

The man told me not to go out. He didn't say anything about not letting people in.

"Come inside."

She turned and walked back in without waiting.

Harry hesitated for a few seconds. Then followed.

Inside, his eyes went automatically around the room — and he stopped himself almost immediately. That was rude. He lowered his gaze.

That was when the smell reached him. Roasted meat, rich and dark, sitting on the dining table — the kind of thing that looked good even before you tasted it.

Gurgle.

His stomach announced itself.

The colour shot up his face. He stared at the floor. But he couldn't stop his throat from working.

Bernadette glanced at him, put the container in the microwave, set it for three minutes, and pointed at the sofa. "Sit."

Harry perched on the edge of it, not quite sure what to do with his hands.

Bernadette picked up one of the books and held it out. "I... need you to... read aloud. Words. Sentences. Grammar."

Harry looked at it, looked at her. "You want me to... teach you English?"

To be continued…

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