9.
The house on Privet Drive exuded the same neat, stuffy perfection as ever. Inside, there was a silence that might seem normal to an outsider, but felt heavier to the occupants, something they didn’t want to name.
Vernon Dursley sat at the dining table, his newspaper unfolded and a mug of tea beside him, just as it always was. His face was set, but not with anger – with relief. The tension that Dana always brought with her, that suffocating feeling that everything she touched threw their neat world out of balance, was gone.
“Normal at last,” he muttered softly to himself, sipping his tea. No more weirdness. No more worrying about who would notice her strange behavior. The idea that he had left her behind felt more like a solution than a burden. He had done what was necessary. She didn’t fit in with them – she never did.
In the living room, Petunia sat on the couch, her hands resting on her knees, her gaze blank. She heard Vernon in the kitchen, but didn’t react. She knew what he’d done, and though she tried to convince herself it was right, a pang of doubt gnawed at her.
“She’s just like Lily,” she mumbled almost inaudibly. “Trouble. Always trouble.”
In a modest house across Privet Drive, Arabella Figg, a gray-haired woman with keen perception, sat at her kitchen table. Her cats lay scattered about the room, their eyes half-closed but their ears alert. Arabella looked out of the window, her gaze fixed on Number Four.
She had seen the Dursleys come home. Three people stepped out of the car: Vernon with his usual angry look, Petunia with her nose in the air, and Dudley rushing inside with a thud. But there was no one else. No girl with tousled black hair and a shy demeanor. No Dana.
Arabella had been the unofficial watchdog of Privet Drive for years. She knew the secrets of the magical world, and she knew who Dana really was. She knew, too, how terribly the Dursleys treated her—the shabby clothes, the harsh words, the way they ignored her as if she were less than the cats that now padded softly around Arabella’s feet.
She had gone to Albus Dumbledore many times, written letters, and sent pleas. “She’s not being treated well there,” she had written. But Dumbledore had always brushed her off, told her it was important that Dana stayed there for her protection. Protection? Arabella snorted. What was the point of protection if the child wasn’t even getting a childhood?
Arabella picked up her quill and a piece of parchment. Her hand shook with anger and frustration as she began to write:
Professor Dumbledore,
I am writing to you with great concern. The Dursleys have returned from America but without Dana. The girl has disappeared. You know as well as I do that she was never wanted there and that her treatment was shameful. I have reported this all these years, but you have chosen not to intervene. And now she is gone. What happened? Where is she? Is she safe?
I have kept my mouth shut for so long and trusted your judgment, but this is going too far. You are her guardian. It is your responsibility to find her and make sure she gets what she deserves: a home, love and protection. I demand that you take action, and I demand that you take action, and I demand that you do so immediately."
She signed her name at the bottom with a firm gesture and folded the letter into an envelope. She called one of her cats, Mr. Tibbles, who stretched and purred toward her. “It is time to deliver this letter,” she said softly.
As she walked to her window and handed the envelope to Mr. Tibbles, she cast one last glance at the Dursley house.
***
The soft clatter of shopping carts on the tiled floor and the murmur of other shoppers filled the supermarket. Dean pushed the cart with a mix of determination and mild irritation, while Sam walked quietly beside him with Dana on his other side.
Dana held Sam’s hand, but her grip was less tight than it had been earlier that morning. She looked around with wide eyes, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty on her face. This was clearly a very different experience than what she was used to.
Dean looked at the cart, which so far was filled with a modest supply: a few cans of beer, a bag of chips, and a box of cereal. He shook his head and sighed. “Okay, Dana,” he began, looking at her with a crooked smile. “You’re in charge now. What do you want for dinner?”
Dana looked at him hesitantly. “I get to choose?”
Dean nodded. “Yep. Anything you want.”
“Anything?” she asked, her eyes wide. Sam squeezed her hand gently. “Everything, Dana. This is for you. Let’s stock the pantry.”
Dana thought for a moment, then gently tugged on Sam’s hand. “Can we… go to the bakery?”
Dean grinned. “That sounds like a good idea. Bring it on.” At the bakery, Dana paused at the display case of freshly baked bread and pastries. She stared wide-eyed at the croissants, muffins, and donuts.
“Which one do you want?” Sam asked softly. Dana hesitantly pointed to a box of chocolate muffins. “Those?”
Dean picked up the box and placed it in the shopping cart. “Those are yours.” Dana smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
Dean looked at her and winked. “But if you think we’re leaving the grocery store with just muffins, you’re wrong. We need to get some serious food.”
The trek through the grocery store quickly became a mission. Dean let Dana take the lead, and though she was a little hesitant at first, she quickly began to choose with more confidence. She picked out fruits—apples, grapes, even a watermelon—and Dean placed them all in the cart without question.
In the dairy aisle, she pointed to a bottle of chocolate milk.
“Good choice,” Dean said, grabbing the bottle and placing it in the cart. “No breakfast is complete without chocolate milk.” Sam grinned. “Let’s make sure she picks some veggies, too.”
Dana looked around the produce aisle and pointed to carrots and broccoli. “Broccoli?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. “You know that’s green, right?”
Dana giggled. “I like it.” Dean shook his head, laughing. “Okay then. Broccoli it is.”
At the cookies and candy aisle, Dana paused, hesitating. “You can choose cookies, too,” Sam said softly. Dana’s eyes lit up. She picked up a pack of chocolate chip cookies and then looked at Dean. “Is this okay?”
Dean pretended to think hard and shrugged. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe we should have another one. Just to be safe.” Dana laughed and grabbed another pack of cookies.
When they finally reached the checkout, the shopping cart was filled to the brim. Dean looked at it with a satisfied look. “That looks better.” Sam laughed softly. “This looks more like a family’s supply.” Dana looked proudly at everything she had chosen. “Are we going to take all of this?”
“Everything,” Dean confirmed. “And if you forgot something, we’ll just get it next time.”
As they walked back to the Impala, Dana helped with the bags so Dean could load the bags in the trunk. “Good job, kiddo,” Dean said as he closed the trunk. “Our pantry is never going to be empty again.”