Chapter 77

Chapter 77

At half past six that evening, a car trundled into Lily Street, trailing exhaust fumes behind it.

Its passengers were, naturally, the visiting Dursley family.

At the wheel, Mr Dursley held a slip of paper in one hand and inched his foot down on the accelerator while peering through the windows in every direction.

In the back seat, Harry heard his cousin mutter, “Rich people live in places like this?”

“You are mistaken, Dudley,” Mr Dursley said as he searched. “It is called being discreet. A great many wealthy people enjoy peace and quiet, and this neighbourhood is certainly peaceful. To people like them, living somewhere like this is a mark of refinement… Ah–there it is!”

“This is the place.” Mr Dursley squeezed himself out of the car in a peculiar and laborious pose, all to avoid creasing the expensive suit he had bought. In spite of his efforts, the suit only made him resemble a pig standing on two legs.

“Remember what I told you. Manners. We must demonstrate the impeccable breeding of the Dursley family.”

“Dudley, you and your mother check each other. Make sure your bow ties are straight, and smooth down any stray hairs.”

“And you, Potter–”

“I know, Uncle Vernon. I won’t say anything,” Harry said before Mr Dursley could issue another warning. He had lost his chance to enjoy the house alone, but at least he might get a decent dinner out of the trip. That was the only consolation he could find.

At the front door, Mr Dursley took a deep breath and rubbed his face, trying to make his smile look more amiable. Then he nodded to his precious son.

Just as Harry began to wonder whether the buttons on Dudley’s shirt might burst, the door opened. A little girl with two adorable bunches stood on the other side.

“Mrs. Ellison, you–” Dudley began according to the rehearsed script, before the door was even fully open. Then he saw the little girl and the rest of his greeting lodged in his throat.

What happened next nearly sent Harry into fits.

The lovely little girl gave a cry of alarm.

“Mummy! There’s a pig turned into a person knocking at the door!”

Then she pattered away as fast as her legs could carry her.

Brilliant, Harry cheered inwardly. He fought down his laughter as the Dursleys stood frozen before the open door, their smiles rigid on their faces.

While they debated whether they ought to go inside, a woman’s voice rescued them.

“Oh, Angel, that was terribly rude.”

So her name is Angel, Harry thought. It suits her. She really is an angel.

Mrs. Ellison hurried to the door and apologised to Mr Dursley. “I’m so sorry. You must be the family my husband arranged to meet. Please, come in. Angel has been quite spoiled by her brother and me. Her manners really were inexcusable. Do forgive us.”

“Heh-heh… Think nothing of it, madam.” Mr Dursley piled on a smile. “She is… very charming.”

“I hope you don’t mind my bringing the family. I arranged the visit with Mr. Ellison in advance. I am Vernon Dursley, and this is my wife.”

“Oh, you look remarkably young, madam,” Mrs Dursley gushed as she stepped forward. She was offended by what Angel had said about her son, but she became all eagerness the moment her husband introduced her.

“You flatter me, Mrs Dursley.” Mrs. Ellison wore a restrained, faintly distant smile. “Please come in. You’ve travelled quite a way, so do sit down in the drawing room. My husband and son have gone out, but they will be home very shortly.”

Harry followed at the back of the group. Mr Dursley made no attempt to introduce him, but Harry did not mind. He was accustomed to it.

“Would you like a sweet?”

Harry blinked and turned his head. The little girl who had opened the door stood beside him, her head tilted as she studied him. Her small, soft white hand lay open before him, a round sweet in the centre of her palm.

Harry glanced instinctively towards the Dursleys on the sofa. When he saw that none of them was watching, he took the sweet and murmured his thanks.

“You’re welcome!” Angel beamed and skipped away.

The sweet was sugary, with a scent of lemon. For some reason, Harry found its flavour remarkably familiar.

It tasted very much like a lemon sherbet he had eaten at Hogwarts.

He shook his head, dismissing the absurd notion. This was plainly a Muggle household. How could they possibly have sweets from the wizarding world?

Outside, Mr. Ellison was pulling into the private drive. The faint sound of conversation and laughter drifted from the house.

“It seems our guests have arrived,” Mr. Ellison said. “They’re early, aren’t they?”

“Who are they, Dad?” Suer asked curiously.

“A potential client. We haven’t agreed on the deal yet.”

“Oh.” Suer nodded. As he opened the car door, however, he frowned. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but he could feel someone watching him.

There was indeed a pair of eyes watching from the shrubbery outside the house.

Yet the instant Suer looked towards them, they vanished.

Perhaps it was only a stray cat.

“Come along. The guests are already here, and it would be discourteous to keep them waiting.” Mr. Ellison had climbed out of the car and was beckoning to him.

“All right, Dad.”

Angel sat on a high stool, listlessly playing with Mrs Dursley’s gift: a complete set of princess dolls.

Unfortunately, Angel already owned the whole collection. The dolls held no appeal for her at all.

The noises outside were far more interesting.

She had pricked up her ears the moment Mr. Ellison began to park, and a sweet smile lit her little face.

“Daddy and Bwother are home!”

Angel sprang off the stool and scampered away.

Everyone in the room turned at the movement. The whole Dursley family rose and watched attentively in the direction she had disappeared.

“Mr. Ellison, how do you do? I hope you will forgive the intrusion.” Mr Dursley’s voice soon rang out. Harry remained in his corner, staring absently at the steam curling above his teacup.

“This is my wife, my son, and that is my nephew.”

Merciful heavens, Mr Dursley had actually remembered him.

They were guests in someone else’s home, after all, and it would be rude not to offer a greeting. Harry looked up.

“Suer?!” he blurted in astonishment.

Standing beside Mr Dursley’s all-important client was one of Harry’s friends from Hogwarts.

“Hello, Harry.” Suer raised an eyebrow. He had spotted Harry on the sofa as soon as he walked in.

He certainly had not expected the Dursleys to be the family visiting his home.

Mr and Mrs Dursley were equally stunned. Their eyes darted back and forth between Suer and Harry.