Everything that was suspended in the air fell down at the same instant.
The pudding splattered on the stone floor, splattering cream and caramel everywhere. White cream flakes splashed onto the cupboard and stuck to the corners of the walls, while violets were scattered all over the floor.
Several dessert cups also fell, shards of porcelain scattering everywhere, syrup dripping into the gaps between the floor tiles, making the whole kitchen look like it had been cursed with a sugar bomb.
Harry had no idea when Dobby disappeared.
He was the only one left in the kitchen; the floor was a mess, and cream was still dripping down the edge of the cabinet door.
A sharp scream rang out from the dining room; it was Mrs. Mason's voice.
Then came the sound of a chair being pushed aside, Aunt Petunia said in a voice that was trying hard to suppress her panic, "It's nothing, it's nothing, it's probably just in the kitchen—"
When Vernon rushed from the dining room into the kitchen, his face was as red as when he had drunk too much whiskey.
He stared wide-eyed at the mess in the kitchen, at the shattered porcelain and the desserts spilled all over the floor, then at Harry standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in cream.
Vernon's lips trembled a few times, as if a roar had risen to his throat but was forcibly suppressed, his chest heaving violently.
"Go back to your room." Vernon's voice was low and hoarse, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, "Now. Immediately."
Harry opened his mouth as if to say that he didn't do it, but he swallowed the words back.
How could he explain this? Was he supposed to say that a House-elf with bat ears deliberately went into their kitchen and blew everything up?
Uncle Vernon would probably have a brain hemorrhage on the spot.
He nodded slightly, then turned and strode quickly toward the stairs.
As he went upstairs, he heard Uncle Vernon walk back into the dining room in a forcedly relaxed tone, smiling as he said:
"My nephew has a slight mental issue; he gets nervous around strangers, so we keep him upstairs. It's nothing serious, Mr. Mason, please have a seat..."
The sound of Aunt Petunia rummaging through things came from the kitchen.
She rescued a plate of after-dinner mints from the mess, wiped the splattered cream off the plate with her apron, and carried it toward the dining room.
Just then, a gray shadow swooped straight down from the chimney.
It was a grayish-brown owl, its wings flapping and bringing down a thin layer of ash.
With an envelope in its mouth, it swiftly flew over Aunt Petunia's head and dropped the letter onto Mrs. Mason's head.
Mrs. Mason screamed, slapped the envelope off her head, and sprang up from her chair.
"A bird! A bird! A bird flew in--"
She stumbled backward, bumping into a dining chair whose legs scraped against the floor with a screeching sound.
"No, that's—" Aunt Petunia tried to explain.
But Mrs. Mason had already rushed out of the dining room, her footsteps hurried through the Entrance Hall, the door was yanked open and slammed shut with a bang that made the paintings on the wall shake.
Mr. Mason paused for a moment, then slowly stood up, his gaze first falling on Aunt Petunia's face, then turning to Uncle Vernon.
"My wife," he said, his voice trembling with suppressed anger, "Is terrified of birds. Terrified, terrified, terrified!"
Uncle Vernon's mouth was agape, but he couldn't utter a single word.
Mr. Mason grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, strode toward the door, and stopped in the Entrance Hall, glancing back at Vernon.
"Did you arrange this on purpose?"
"No—of course not, how could we—"
"This is outrageous!" Mr. Mason said, then he pushed open the door and walked out without looking back.
Uncle Vernon stood motionless, as if processing everything that had just happened.
Aunt Petunia stood in the dining room doorway, still holding the plate of surviving mints, her face looking as if she'd been doused with a bucket of cold water.
Then Vernon slowly bent down, picked up the letter the owl had dropped, unfolded the parchment, and scanned it from top to bottom.
Harry leaned out from the stairs to look, but before he could ask, Vernon had already turned around abruptly.
" Harry Potter!" Vernon's voice boomed through the living room, carrying the pent-up anger he'd been suppressing all night. "Explain this to me!"
He held the letter up to Harry, poking at the words with his finger.
Harry saw that it said:
Mr. Potter:
We received a report that you used a Hover Charm at your residence at 9:12 PM tonight.
As you know, underage wizards are not allowed to use magic outside of school. If you do so again, you may be expelled from the school (Act on Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards, 1875, Section 3).
Also, please remember that according to Article 13 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, any magical activity that may attract the attention of non- Wizarding World members ( Muggle ) is a serious violation of the law.
Have a great summer vacation!
Mafalda Hopkirk
Ministry of Magic
Improper Use of Magic Office ]
Harry's mind raced. 9:12 PM tonight, that was when Dobby suspended the pudding. It was the House-elf used magic, not him.
"I didn't do it!" Harry said. "It was a House-elf— "
" House-elf?" Vernon interrupted him, his voice completely out of control, "Do you think I'd believe that kind of nonsense?!"
He abruptly crumpled the letter into a ball, clutching it in his hand, his chest heaving violently.
Aunt Petunia stood a short distance behind him, her face pale and her lips trembling.
Uncle Vernon's business fell through tonight. His client left, his drilling contract was canceled, and the dinner he had meticulously prepared for almost two weeks ended with an owl and a plate of crumbled pudding.
And all of this—in Vernon's view—was caused by Harry's misuse of magic.
He strode towards the stairs, and Harry's heart sank; he quickly followed.
" Uncle Vernon, it really wasn't me--"
"Shut up," Vernon said without turning his head, stepped over two steps, stopped at the door of Harry's bedroom, turned around and pulled Harry into the room.
His face was still flushed, but his voice didn't rise; instead, it became very low, as if he was suppressing something.
" Potter," he said, "From today onwards, you won't be stepping out of this room."
Harry's stomach clenched: "But—"
"No buts." Vernon took a half step back, placing one hand on the doorknob.
"Anyway, you can't use magic. The Ministry of Magic said that if you do it again, you'll be expelled, so you can't do anything."
He squinted and said, "We'll let you stay inside; you won't have to do any work, cook, or clean."
"You have food and drink every day, a soft bed to sleep in, and no one hits or scolds you. Do you think that's abuse?"
Harry seemed to know what he was about to do.
Seeing that Harry didn't speak, Vernon muttered to himself, "Of course not."
"But you're not leaving once school starts." Vernon pulled the door open, placing one hand on the edge of the door panel.
"You'll stay in this room. I think the school can't tolerate a student who doesn't go to school!"
The door slammed shut in front of Harry, the lock clicking as it turned a full circle from the outside.
Harry stood in the middle of the room, listening to Vernon's footsteps gradually fade away down the hallway, followed by the dull thud of the living room door slamming shut downstairs.
Uncle Vernon's voice could be faintly heard from downstairs. "He'll never be able to go back to that school... never... If he dares to escape using magic—he'll be expelled!"