บท 121: 0121 Vernon's Boss
Harry didn't answer the question right away, in fact, he was still in a state of shock that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had mentioned magic on their own, without any provocation from him. The confusion and disbelief in his eyes seemed to be a mockery and provocation in Uncle Vernon's eyes, and this also further pushed Uncle Vernon's tense nerves to the brink of breaking. Harry could see the veins on his uncle's forehead throbbing, and his face turning redder by the second.
"Answer my question, boy–"
Uncle Vernon finally stopped suppressing himself, he roared at Harry loudly, his voice echoing in the small kitchen. Hearing this familiar roar, Harry felt a bit more comfortable, as if everything was back to normal. He knew how to deal with his uncle's anger, he had done it for years.
"If you mean some minor problems, such as pimples, insomnia or some light injuries, maybe I can handle them–"
Harry hurriedly said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. No one likes the feeling of hunger, and that's the same for everyone, if possible, Harry would also try to avoid offending the Dursleys, even if they don't like each other. Although he didn't know why they were interested in this, he still answered the question truthfully, hoping that they would leave him alone after that.
"Is that all you can do?"
Dudley's sneer cut through the air, making Harry's ears ring. Aunt Petunia joined the topic, and looked at him suspiciously, her thin lips pursed tightly. She leaned forward, as if trying to read Harry's mind.
"What about more serious problems?"
To be honest, Aunt Petunia's question made Harry a bit unhappy, he was just a young wizard who had just graduated from second grade, what did they expect him to do? Moreover, when it comes to healing, it's hard to get around potions, and potions are the subject that Harry is least good at among all the magic subjects! He had barely passed the exams, thanks to Hermione's help and notes.
"–More serious problems, if you mean poisoning"
Harry remembered that in the first year of potions class, Snape seemed to mention something that had a strong detoxifying effect. It was a plant called bezoar, and it could cure most poisons. Harry frowned and racked his brains, trying to recall the details. The reason why he was so hard thinking was not because Harry was eager to show off in front of the Dursleys, but because he didn't want to give the Dursleys a chance to mock magic because of his lack of magic skills. He wanted to prove to them that magic was not useless, that it could do amazing things, that it was part of who he was.
At this moment, Harry suddenly missed Hermione a bit, if it was Hermione facing the Dursleys' questions, Harry was sure that her answer would make the Dursleys dumbfounded. She would have listed all the possible ways to heal various ailments, from spells to potions to charms, and she would have cited the sources and examples with ease. She would have made the Dursleys feel ignorant and foolish, and Harry would have enjoyed watching their expressions.
"Not poisoning, boy!"
Uncle Vernon, who was purple-faced, shouted, interrupting Harry's thoughts.
"It seems that those tricks can't make you smarter, can they!"
Harry, who was sprayed with saliva, immediately looked cold, he stared back at Uncle Vernon's eyes, and said unhappily,
"Wizards can deal with a lot of problems, how do I know what you want to ask!"
He had had enough of their questions, their insults, their disdain. He felt a surge of anger and defiance in his chest, and he wished he could use his wand to hex them all. But he knew he couldn't, he knew he had to follow the rules, he had to endure until he could go back to Hogwarts.
"Let me talk to him, Vernon."
Aunt Petunia stood up nervously as soon as Harry finished that sentence, and before Uncle Vernon exploded, she drove Uncle Vernon and reluctant Dudley to the living room, telling them to watch TV and calm down. Then she returned to the kitchen, glaring at Harry, who was not convinced, and said sternly,
"You should show respect to every member of this family, if it weren't for our mercy to take you in, your best outcome would be to become a homeless person who can only sleep under the bridge!"
Facing Aunt Petunia's scolding, Harry kept his face silent, because he had heard similar words countless times over the years.
Whenever Harry showed a questioning attitude in front of them, they would say so mercilessly, as if if it weren't for their shelter, his final fate would be to be locked up in a muggle prison.
They never cared about him, they never loved him, they only saw him as a burden and a freak. Harry knew that, and he hated them for that.
In the next ten minutes, the scolding came at Harry like a storm, of course, they were all old and clichéd words, even Dudley, who loved to see Harry being scolded, yawned and moved his steps to the living room to turn on another TV. He was bored of his mother's nagging, and he wanted to watch something more interesting, like a wrestling match or a car chase.
Taking advantage of Aunt Petunia's tiredness and gasping, Harry, who had only a trace of reason left and insisted on not leaving directly, asked gloomily,
"What do you want to do?"
Facing Harry's question, Aunt Petunia didn't answer right away, but kept a strange silence, Harry could see that talking about this might take a lot of courage for them.
"I've heard before–"
Just as Harry couldn't help but urge again, Aunt Petunia finally opened her mouth, she spoke in a slow and hesitant tone, and when she spoke, her already long horse face stretched even longer, as if she was trying to avoid looking at Harry directly.
"You have a hospital there, specializing in treating various… difficult and complicated diseases and whatnot–"
'A hospital for treating difficult and complicated diseases?'
Harry's eyes showed confusion, he wondered if there was such a place in the wizarding world. He had never heard of it before, he had never seen anyone get seriously ill or injured in his two years at Hogwarts. The only time he had visited the hospital wing was when he had broken his arm during a Quidditch match, and Madam Pomfrey had fixed it in a matter of seconds.
But soon, Harry realized that the question he was struggling with was very stupid, of course the wizarding world should have a hospital, he just didn't hear about it, just like last year he learned from Malfoy's mouth that there was a prison in the wizarding world that would make wizards feel terrified just by mentioning its name, called Azkaban.
In fact, these things are just the simplest common sense for children who grew up in wizarding families, Harry believed that Ron must know the name of the hospital in the wizarding world, it's just that for a little wizard like him who grew up in the muggle world, it's a novelty.
He wished he could ask Ron or Hermione about it, but he knew he couldn't, he had to wait until the summer was over and he could return to his real home.
"If I remember correctly, it should be called St. Mungo's–"
Aunt Petunia tried to say it lightly, to cover up the pain and shame of bringing up those unbearable past.
"How do you know?"
Harry was about to ask in surprise, but he reacted quickly and shut his mouth, because he realized that the person in front of him was his mother's sister, if his mother's teenage years were not living in a family as bad as his, she must have talked about the wonderful magic world in front of her family many times.
"Oh, well you're right, it's called that."
Harry said a bit nervously, hoping that Aunt Petunia wouldn't notice his lie. There was no doubt that he lied, because he didn't know the name of the hospital at all, and the reason why he lied was very simple, first, he wanted to figure out why the Dursleys would talk to him about the magic world, second, it was the strange pride. He was the one who received the orthodox magic education at Hogwarts, but Aunt Petunia knew something that he didn't know, which made Harry a bit unacceptable. He felt a surge of jealousy in his chest, and he wished he could know more about his parents and their world.
Ahem–
In the living room, Uncle Vernon, who was watching TV with Dudley, coughed heavily, and Aunt Petunia in the kitchen immediately knew that she should speed up the process, she took a deep breath, looked down, and looked expressionlessly at the pair of green eyes that always made her unhappy, and said in a calm tone,
"I think you should remember the company your uncle works for, right?"
"Grunnings, they make drills."
Harry glanced at the living room and said quickly, feeling a bit impatient. He didn't care about his uncle's work, he didn't care about drills, he didn't care about anything that had to do with the muggle world. He wanted to know what this was all about, what they wanted from him, what they expected him to do.
Aunt Petunia nodded slightly, looking satisfied, as if she had passed a test. She leaned forward, as if trying to get closer to Harry, and lowered her voice, as if afraid of being overheard by her husband and son.
"Then you should also remember who the owner of this company is, right, we've mentioned him many times when we talked about your uncle's work at home–"
This time, Harry didn't answer so smoothly, he frowned and thought for a while before saying slowly,
"Claude Watson. What about him?"
He vaguely remembered the name, he had heard it a few times when the Dursleys were bragging about their social status and connections.
"He has cancer."
Aunt Petunia said heavily, dropping the bombshell that made Harry's eyes widen in shock. He didn't know much about cancer, he had only heard of it as a deadly incurable disease that affected muggles.
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