Unfortunate Circumstances

Chapter Three

Great, Vernon thought now, the next morning. Bloody great. It had indeed been an accident. It really had. But it sure hadn't looked like one. He shook his head, to be rewarded with a dizzy spell. No wonder I have such a headache. He was going to need the vacuum, more cleaning solution, and a stain remover. He bent over to straighten one of the rugs. Another mistake. Oww.

Harry had better make his buddy behave. They had an agreement, Vernon and he. His eyes darted over to the cupboard where Harry's school things had been kept.

Always, everything had been placed in that cupboard, except for the short summer before Harry's fourteenth year, when he'd briefly stored his things in his room. Back then, no matter what Harry had said, it turned out that his Uncle Sirius was too busy hiding out to bother the Dursleys. So after that one brief time, the supplies had been returned. Back where they belong.

Harry had better keep their secret, he thought, like the boy had always done through the years. Or everything in that cupboard, including the trunk and what it contained, would certainly burn.

Rubbing his aching temples, Vernon went over to inspect the damage to the wall, bringing a towel. He was calming down now. Not too bad, he thought. He could just clean this up and nobody'd be the wiser. Harry would be back soon. After all, what else could he do, run away again? Where would he go? Those wizards would always bring him back. This time, even Petunia and Dudley didn't have to know.

Vernon thought that, last night, he might have gotten a little carried away. But after all, the letter had upset him, and then there had been the drinking. He had hit Harry too hard, he decided. Standing up, Vernon figured that first, he would see what he could do to finish up the garage himself, and then...

******

He never got a chance to finish the thought.

The front door flew open, slamming into the wall. Before he could think again, a large, dark and angry shape was in his face. Suddenly, a huge, turkey-sized fist had flown through, pinning him to the far wall by his neck, feet dangling, as easily as Dudley had once done to insects on a card in biology class. But, he noted with some alarm, those insects were dead.

His attacker, a great bear of a man, had come in very fast, bent over, his huge overcoat billowing behind him. His long, full beard blew back, too. It was as though the wind had followed him.

Afraid, Vernon tried to make a sound. The bear-man, Hagrid, he remembered, that's it, signaled for quiet. To emphasize this, his left hand tightened just a bit on Vernon's neck. Vernon's eyes bulged as he found out how perilous his air supply could be. Without a lot of choice in the matter, he stopped sputtering.

"I heard what yeh did last night."

Hagrid was talking now, in a low guttural growl, and it seemed to Vernon that he should listen with the utmost attention. Hagrid stopped to clear his throat, and it also seemed that he was trying to control himself. This thought did not comfort Vernon.

"I don' know how long this has been goin' on," Hagrid continued, "and I don' want to know."

He took a breath. "If I did," he began again, and Vernon noticed his eyes were hard and black. "If I did, we might be havin' more of a - conversation."

Hagrid's fingers tightened again. "If I hear that yeh've ever done anythin' like that

again -" he paused to make his point, "this hand 'round yer neck will be the least of yer problems."

Inches from Vernon's face, Hagrid's right hand made a gigantic, basketball-sized fist. Vernon thought he was going to hit him. He squeezed his eyes shut against it.

"Do yeh understand me?"

The voice was now a low whisper, but Vernon did not doubt the power behind it. Shivering, his red face nodded up and down. It was all that he could do.

"Good."

He dropped Vernon, just like that, almost flinging him down to the ground with amazing ease. Vernon caught himself, gasping. Hagrid turned back to the door. He pointed a warning finger at Vernon, who was choking and sputtering. "An' to Harry, I was never here." His overcoat flapped like a great bird as he left.

The door slammed so hard it sounded like a sonic boom, rattling the teacups all the way in the kitchen.