The Dursleys and intimidation

"John, you're back. Your mum hasn't looked happy these past few days."

John returned home after a month away. Watson was delighted to see him at first, then cast a cautious glance toward the kitchen.

"You didn't keep your promise to your mum, but your dad knows something else must have held you up."

Watson might usually act like a child who never grew up, but he never lost sight of what mattered.

And to him, Mrs. Wick's mood mattered a great deal.

John's heart sank at those words. He had spent the last week studying at Nicolas Flamel's home.

The place was protected by the Fidelius Charm, so even owls couldn't find it. That meant he hadn't kept up his weekly letter-writing routine.

That had really made Mrs. Wick angry. She rarely lost her temper, but once she did, she was hard to appease.

The last time Mrs. Wick had been angry, she had given Watson the silent treatment for a week, leaving John to survive on bread with assorted dips.

The thought of Watson's dreadful cooking sent a shiver down John's spine.

Fortunately, he had come prepared. He went into the kitchen and found Mrs. Wick standing there in stony silence.

Beautiful and gracious as she was, Mrs. Wick acted like a little girl when she was angry. Braving her icy stare, John put on an ingratiating smile and took the perfume he had bought in Paris out of his suitcase.

"I bought this perfume in France especially for you, Mum."

John shamelessly turned on the charm, gazing pitifully at his mother.

Mrs. Wick had still been angry about John failing to write to her, but the sight melted her anger in less than three seconds.

Still, as his mother, Mrs. Wick gave John a stern lecture.

"Little John, you're not grown up yet. You went off all alone to somewhere as dangerous as a foreign country. How could you forget to write to your mum?"

John accepted the scolding, nodding and bowing so much that he looked just like Watson.

Watching from outside, Watson wore a gratified expression, pleased to see that his son was learning.

With his mother appeased, John was about to return to his room when Watson brought him a large stack of letters.

"These are all from your friends. One of the owls was so old that it crashed into the letterbox several times."

Watson put the letters down and left, having heard Mrs. Wick's ominous warning about his wearing leather shoes upstairs.

John opened the top letter. It was from Hermione and contained a long list of books she had read over the holidays.

John picked out Hermione's letters and read them one by one. The last mentioned Harry: Hermione had written to him over the holidays but hadn't heard a thing back.

After finishing them, John picked up the others. There were letters from Ron and Hagrid, and even three from Malfoy.

He opened them all and read through them. Apart from Malfoy's, every letter mentioned Harry.

None of them had received replies to their letters to Harry, and they were asking whether John knew anything.

"Has Harry been taken away by the Ministry of Magic?"

Remembering the day his magic had run wild, John began to worry that Harry might have been arrested by the Ministry of Magic.

Harry had taken the blame for him, after all, so John decided to go and see what had happened.

After hiding his unicorn hair wand safely at home, John took his wand and went downstairs.

With a little coaxing, John managed to get a freshly baked apple pie from Mrs. Wick.

He found a box to put it in, then went to 4 Privet Drive and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

As luck would have it, a chubby boy opened the door.

Dudley had smelled the apple pie and beaten his mother to the door.

He had thought a wonderful surprise awaited him, one that would make up for the feast Harry had ruined a few days earlier. It certainly was a big surprise, but the shock far outweighed the delight.

"It's you, John Wick!"

Dudley screamed. The chubby boy had quite a pair of lungs.

Petunia Dursley, who had been wondering who was at the door, hurried out to investigate when she heard Dudley's scream.

At the sight of John, she remembered seeing him at King's Cross Station with Harry's wizard friends.

Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley, came out as well. He was perhaps in his forties, so fat that he had no neck, yet sported a bushy beard.

Vernon Dursley's face fell when he saw John, and he bellowed, "You lot still dare to come to my house!"

After seeing the warning letter the Ministry of Magic had sent Harry a few days earlier, Vernon had learned that these young wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside school.

So he wasn't afraid of John at all and shouted at him to leave.

"Mr. Dursley, I think you've misunderstood."

John gave him a small, perfectly polite smile.

"At the moment, I'm here as the son of the owners of 6 Privet Drive. In other words, your neighbours' son has come to knock on your door."

Vernon was taken aback. John continued without waiting for a response, "Surely Mr. Dursley wouldn't lack even the most basic manners and turn away a neighbour who has brought a gift?"

Vernon looked more closely and saw that John had indeed brought a gift.

The rich, sweet aroma of apple pie already had his precious son swallowing frantically. Vernon's expression shifted several times before he finally said darkly, "Since you're not here as one of those nasty freaks, you can come in."

John smiled slightly and handed the apple pie to the stony-faced Petunia before entering.

"Sit down, then stay for a minute and leave."

Vernon made no attempt to be pleasant. John glanced at Dudley, who was unwrapping the apple pie and digging in, and thought how alike father and son looked.

"Where's Harry?"

"Harry? Don't mention that boy to me."

Vernon had known John was up to no good. He had locked Harry up, fitted bars, and left only a trapdoor through which to deliver three meals a day.

He had made up his mind to stop Harry from returning to school. No one could change his mind, whoever came calling.

Watching the time, Vernon rose and ordered him out. "Now you can leave my house. You lot are never to come into my house again."

His attitude made John frown, and the politeness he had maintained began to fade.

John showed no intention of moving, so Vernon reached out to throw him out himself.

John seized Vernon's outstretched, stubby index finger and bent it back hard.

Vernon immediately let out a piglike squeal. Startled, Petunia hurried over.

She found her husband kneeling in front of John, howling nonstop as John held his finger.

"Mr. Dursley, I think you may have misunderstood something."

"Misunderstood? There's no misunderstanding! If you don't leave, I'll call the police!"

Vernon Dursley was still trying to drive him out. Losing patience, John said coldly, "I'm not just Harry's classmate. My father has dealings with Mr. Finn Wallace. You know, there are other ways of dealing with certain people."

Finn Wallace.

At that name, Vernon even forgot to scream.

That man was the head of a London gang, someone the police couldn't keep under control.

Vernon had thought there was nothing to fear from wizards who couldn't use magic, but now he panicked. If John was telling the truth, dealing with him would be child's play.

"Sorry, please forgive my rudeness." Fighting through the pain, Vernon forced a smile. "Harry is upstairs."

"Very good, Mr. Dursley. Please allow me to go up and see my friend."

John released Vernon's finger. Vernon nodded as though he had been granted a reprieve, then stepped aside to check whether his finger was broken.

Taking charge as though he owned the place, John looked at Dudley, who was still stuffing his face, and said mildly, "Dudley, perhaps you should show your guest the way, shouldn't you?"

Before Dudley could react, Vernon went straight over and hauled him up by the ear, making him show John the way.

Dudley yelped in pain but led John upstairs, his face still full of reluctance.

When they reached Harry's room, John studied the sealed door, with only a trapdoor left for passing in food, and fell into thought.

"I seem to recall Britain has child protection laws, too."

"It was him! He ruined my father's business a few days ago."

Afraid of getting caught up in this, Dudley hastily explained.

They hadn't seen each other for a year, but Dudley's fear of John hadn't diminished in the slightest.

John curled his lip. He wasn't carrying a pencil this time.

Stepping forward, he told Dudley to open the door.