Chapter 11
Dudley was having a dreadful summer holiday. He was stopping with Aunt Marge instead of being at Privet Drive, so instead of his own bedroom, with his computer and all his stuff, he was crammed into Aunt Marge's boxroom. The whole house smelled of dog; Marge wasn't nearly as keen on cleaning as his mum was, and she wasn't a great cook. Dudley liked a fry-up as well as anybody, but he was really starting to crave a proper roast dinner, with yorkshire pudding and gravy and some kind of home-made pudding to follow. And Marge kept saying horrible things about Dudley's Mum and his sisters. Now, Harry was fair game, always had been, and it wasn't like he'd ever met his Aunt Lily, so he didn't know whether or not she was as awful as they said. But his sisters were all little and sweet, and they were his. And then he actually got in trouble for backtalking! Marge seemed a bit less fond of him when she had to live with him every day, and the feeling was mutual.
He was delighted when his mum drove up one afternoon. Actually gave her a hug, unprompted, and told her it was good to see her. But overall, it was a disappointing visit. Oh, she hugged him back, and she'd made him a cake, 'just something she'd whipped up quickly', since she'd only had a couple of hours' notice. But she couldn't stay long, and she had important business to discuss with his dad - who was noticeably ill at ease with her. Even when she told him that of course she chose him over 'that horrible boy' and the twins; that if she had her husband and her Dudders, she didn't need anything or anyone else. Even when she told him that the arrangements were being put in place, and they'd definitely be getting rid of all three of the freaks; they just had to wait while things were finalised, and fill in a few forms. Dudley crouched bemused outside the door where he eavesdropped. Those were his sisters they were talking about!
"And I've told the neighbours you were called away for work," she told him, "and the boys have been visiting their friends. Nobody seems too suspicious yet. But of course they'll talk if we send the girls away; they could never understand like we do, how we couldn't possibly keep them, and I wouldn't like them to know we had such shame in the family. So I've hinted about your work trip possibly leading to a promotion if all goes well. Nobody will be too surprised if we move house, thinking we're upsizing, and then in the new place, nobody ever needs to know we had daughters. We'll have a nice, normal life with our precious only son. What do you think, darling?"
"Sounds too ruddy good to be true," said Vernon, gruffly. "Wish we'd done it years ago. What about old whatshisface - that freak headmaster? Won't he stop you?"
"It's all taken care of," Petunia said grimly. "He won't like it, but he won't know until it's too late, and he can't punish us for it. There are laws against it. And if we don't tell any of the neighbours exactly where we're moving to, he might never find us."
"You're a rock, Pet," Dudley's dad said, in an altogether different tone of voice. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I had the tests back, you know, and they're all mine. I should have known you wouldn't do anything like that."
"I understand, Vernon, love," his Mum replied. "Nobody wants to believe they're related to a Freak. I know that all too well. But it's all right now." Squelching and rustling noises ensued, and then Dudley's dad, sounding oddly muffled - "I've had a - a vasectomy, you know..." Dudley realised what was going on, and fled in horror. The garden was full of yapping, snapping dogs, but there was nowhere else for him to go. Absent-mindedly, he did his stretches that Jenkinson had taught him, and started on a few sit-ups.
His mum came out of the house and headed for the car as it was getting dark. Aunt Marge had made it clear that she didn't like having Petunia in the house, and certainly wasn't going to cook for her until she'd made it clear she'd put all the weirdness fully behind her. Mum's hair was dishevelled, and she seemed much happier.
"Are you going already, Mum?" Dudley asked.
"I have to, darling. I've left the freak back at the old house with the girls. I've got to clean it up and clear it out so we can put it on the market, and your Dad and I need to look for a new house, for just the three of us. Won't that be nice?"
"What about Daisy and Dahlia?"
"Harry's making arrangements. They'll be better off with their own kind. It's for the best, you'll see. No good being soft-hearted." She hugged and kissed him some more, and then drove off, leaving Dudley with the plaintive retort unspoken: "But they're my sisters..."
Meanwhile at Privet Drive, Harry was getting reacquainted with his cousins, who had latched onto him more or less instantly. They had read books, played 'catch' in the garden, and had a chat with Mrs Figg, who just happened to be passing. She expressed delight at seeing Harry again, and he told her he'd been busy with schoolwork and stuff, but his aunt had him babysitting today, and it was fun. Harry still rather disliked lying to everyone, but it was necessary, and it got a little easier every time. Harry was struggling to cook tomato pasta for the twins and himself while keeping an eye on them as they watched the telly, when he remembered: Dobby. Aunt Petunia wouldn't be back for another three hours at least: even if she only stopped at Marge's long enough to get the forms signed, it was a two-hour drive.
The pasta went down well, and over dinner, Harry told the girls that he had someone special for them to meet after dinner, and if they liked him and he liked them, he'd be around a lot. He looked a bit funny, Harry explained, but he had a very kind heart. Hands and faces were duly washed, and then Harry called Dobby.
"Dobby, this is a job interview," he said. "I want to see if you get on well with the girls - if you like them, and if they like you. If we'd all be happy together. This is Daisy, the oldest. And this is Dahlia, the youngest." Dobby bounced with enthusiasm. It turned out that, when not panicking about the Chamber of Secrets, he adored small children, and they adored him. He snapped his fingers to make little twinkling lights; he floated them gently through the air; when Daisy had an accident, he cleaned it up just like that; he was even able to calm Dahlia down when she got worked up about Harry only being there for that one day, even if he did promise to come back for them very soon.
When the girls were tucked into their cots, Dobby and Harry negotiated pay. Harry started at one thousand galleons a year, and every other weekend off. Dobby beat him down to one galleon a week, one day off a month, a one-month notice period which could be given by either party, room and board, possible bonuses, and two shopping trips a year where Harry would buy Dobby new clothes. Harry gave Dobby some money - three galleons, with two as a starting bonus and because Harry couldn't offer Dobby food and board yet - and they sat watching television together until Petunia returned, whereupon Dobby vanished with a pop. Harry exchanged the Gringotts form for the back door key, and sloped off towards the station without a word. He could tell from Aunt Petunia's face that she didn't want to talk to him.