Vernon's footsteps faltered.
He turned and saw a middle-aged man wearing glasses walking toward him.
"Yes, I am." Vernon eyed him warily. "Who are you?"
"My name is Martin. I'm a reporter." The man smiled and held out his hand. "Could I ask you a few questions?"
"No," Vernon said coldly. "I don't have time."
"It'll only take a few minutes." Martin was undeterred. "Does your nephew, Harry Potter, live here?"
Vernon's expression changed instantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He hurried toward his car.
"Mr. Dursley!" Martin followed him. "I heard Harry Potter lived with you for eleven years. Is that true?"
Vernon didn't answer. He opened the car door and got in.
"Mr. Dursley!" Martin tapped on the window. "What do you think of the contents of that book?"
Vernon started the engine and stamped on the accelerator. The car shot forward.
In the rearview mirror, he saw Martin standing where he had left him, writing something in a notebook.
Damn it.
Vernon slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
This was becoming more and more troublesome.
Meanwhile, Petunia stood by the window, watching what was happening outside through a gap in the curtains.
She saw Vernon drive off angrily, while the crowd huddled together discussing something. Some people were even taking pictures of her house.
She was filled with panic and unease.
She went to Dudley's bedroom and knocked gently.
"Dudley? Are you there?"
But Dudley didn't answer.
She pushed the door open and found him lying on his bed, wearing headphones and playing a handheld game console.
"Dudley, Mummy's talking to you."
Dudley took off his headphones and looked at her impatiently. "What is it?"
"There are lots of people outside. Don't go out, all right?"
"Why?" Dudley went to the window and lifted the curtain for a look. "Wow, there are loads of them! What are they doing?"
"I don't know either." Petunia shook her head. "Just don't go outside."
Dudley pouted and lay back down on his bed.
What they didn't know was that their neighbors were stunned by the scene too.
Mrs. Winston from next door stood in her doorway, looking at the crowd outside. "Darling, are all these people here to see the Dursley family?" she asked her husband.
"It seems so," Mr. Winston said. "Apparently, their nephew is the main character in a book."
"What book?"
"I'm not quite sure either. It seems to be about a boy who can do magic."
Mrs. Winston nodded thoughtfully.
Just then, a young girl ran over with a book in her hand. "Ma'am, are you the Dursley family's neighbor?"
"Yes." Mrs. Winston nodded.
"Have you ever seen Harry Potter, then? The boy who lives here?"
Mrs. Winston thought for a moment. "Do you mean that little boy with glasses? Thin, with messy hair?"
"Yes, yes!" The girl jumped with excitement. "That's him!"
"I've seen him a few times," Mrs. Winston said. "He's quite a quiet child. Doesn't say much."
"Does he really live in the cupboard under the stairs?"
Mrs. Winston paused in surprise. "Well... I've never noticed."
The girl sighed in disappointment, but soon grew excited again. "Do you know how he's doing, then? Does his aunt treat him well?"
Mrs. Winston hesitated. "Well... I'm not quite sure about that either. But the boy certainly does wear old clothes a lot, and he doesn't look very lively."
The girl's eyes lit up. "Just like it says in the book!"
She turned and ran back to the crowd, announcing loudly, "I found out! Harry Potter really does live here! He really does wear old clothes!"
The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Oh my God, everything in the book is true!"
"I told you! Those details were too realistic to be made up!"
"Who exactly is that Allen Vane? How does he know so much?"
"Who cares who he is! Anyway, now I think Harry Potter really exists, and so does magic!"
By the time Vernon returned, there were so many people outside that he couldn't see the road.
At least a hundred people had gathered on Privet Drive, along with more than a dozen tents.
"This is sheer madness!" Vernon roared.
He picked up the telephone and called the police station again.
"Sir, we've already sent officers over. But as I said before, as long as they aren't breaking the law, we can't forcibly remove them."
"So you're just letting them camp on my doorstep?!"
"Sir, they're in a public area. If you feel you're being harassed, you could consider applying for a restraining order."
"A restraining order? How long would that take to be approved?"
"It usually takes one to two weeks."
"One to two weeks?!" Vernon nearly smashed the telephone. "Are you joking?"
"Sir, I'm sorry, but that's the procedure."
Vernon hung up, shaking with rage.
Ignoring the crowd calling his name, he walked straight back into the house.
He still didn't know what was in the book. That day, he had tried to buy the book the people outside were holding at bookshops.
But the shop assistants always told him regretfully that it had sold out.
As for asking someone in the crowd outside to lend him a copy? He would never do that in his life.
But more and more people were knocking on his door, all wanting to see the old storage cupboard where Harry had once lived.
Vernon angrily chased every one of them away.
Unable to bear the disturbance, he simply drew all the curtains and locked every door and window tight. The family huddled inside like prisoners trapped in a fortress.
"This is a nightmare!" Vernon paced back and forth in the sitting room. "Where on earth did all these people come from?!"
Petunia sat on the sofa, pale-faced. "Vernon, what should we do?"
"How should I know!" Vernon snapped. "I've already called the police, but they're no use at all!"
"These lunatics!" he said through gritted teeth. "What do they think this is? An amusement park?!"
Petunia was a little frightened. "Vernon... perhaps we should move."
"Move?" Vernon turned around. "Where would we move to? Those people will find us! They're everywhere, like locusts!"
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Vernon went to the door and looked through the peephole.
Two people in dark blue uniforms, wearing badges, stood outside.
They were investigators from social services.
Vernon's heart gave a violent thump.
He opened the door and forced a smile. "You two... is there something you need?"
"Hello, Mr. Dursley." The older investigator showed his identification.
"We're from the Surrey Child Protection Centre. We've received a report and need to carry out a routine inspection of your home."
"A report?" Vernon's voice rose sharply. "What report?"
"Concerning the living conditions of a minor," the investigator said calmly.
"According to the person who reported it, a boy named Harry Potter lived in your home for an extended period in conditions that did not meet the required standards."
Vernon's face instantly turned a deep purplish red.
"This is all a misunderstanding!" he said loudly. "That boy is our nephew! We treat him very well!"
"Then may we come in and have a look?" the investigator asked.
Vernon stood blocking the doorway, caught in a dilemma.
"If you refuse to cooperate with the investigation, we will consider-"
Before the investigator could finish, Vernon gritted his teeth and stepped aside.
The two investigators entered the house and looked around.
"Where is the boy's room, please?" the older investigator asked.
Petunia clearly didn't quite know how to answer.
"We understand it's the storage cupboard under the stairs?" Although the investigator phrased it as a question, his tone was distinctly certain.
Hearing this, Vernon knew he couldn't hide it, so he had no choice but to point beneath the stairs. "He... he did live there before."
The investigator walked over and opened the narrow door.
Inside was a cramped space piled with miscellaneous items, with an old mattress laid on the floor.
The investigator bent down and examined it carefully, then straightened up and made a few notes in his notebook.
"What is the floor area of this room?"
"I... I'm not quite sure," Vernon stammered.
"Approximately two square meters," the investigator said. "No window, poor ventilation. Unsuitable for use as a child's bedroom."
"He spent most of his time out of the room!" Vernon argued. "He likes playing outside!"
The investigator ignored him and turned to Petunia. "Ma'am, what does this boy usually have to eat?"
Petunia's face was rather pale. "He... he eats with us."
"How much is he allowed to eat?"
"The same as anyone else."
The investigator nodded and wrote something else in his notebook.
"We also need to know about this boy's education. Does he attend school?"
"Yes," Vernon said. "He goes to... Stonewall High nearby."
"How are his grades?"
"Well..." Vernon hesitated. "Average, I suppose."
The investigator closed his notebook and looked at Vernon and Petunia. "Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, based on our preliminary investigation, there are indeed problems with this boy's living conditions."
"But we still need to investigate further and gather evidence. If it is ultimately determined that you have been negligent in your care or have committed abuse, you will face legal penalties."
Vernon's legs felt a little weak. He braced himself against the wall, his voice trembling. "We... we really haven't abused him..."
"The law will provide a fair judgment as to what the facts are." With that, the investigator turned and left.
After the door closed, Vernon collapsed onto the sofa, his head covered in sweat.
Petunia sat beside him, and her tears finally fell.
"Vernon... will we go to prison?"
"No," Vernon said, but there was no confidence in his voice. "We haven't done anything wrong..."
But as he said this, his mind was filled with everything he had said and done to Harry over the years.
Those things he had taken for granted now seemed as though they really had been a little excessive.