Chapter 168: Vernon's Apology
Thanks to a little trick he'd learned from Dumbledore, Ryan's Legilimency wasn't quite the "telepathy" you'd read about in stories, but it was strong enough to pick up the stray thoughts that spilled out when a person was speaking or thinking.
Just as Petunia said it was "for Harry's safety," Ryan sensed Vernon's confusion and doubt, but also his immediate support for his wife. For that one instant, Vernon's attention on the thick wad of hundred-pound notes in his hand actually wavered.
Petunia's stray thoughts were even more interesting. She was genuinely concerned for Harry's physical safety! And she truly believed, from the bottom of her heart, that Harry could only be safe in this house. Alongside that, there was a deep suspicion of this young man who, despite his age, called himself a professor.
This, Ryan thought, is human complexity.
You couldn't say it was sisterly love. Her jealousy of Lily Evans was palpable, and her "raising" of Harry could only be described as one step above a prison camp—he was provided with food, water, and basic survival. But you also couldn't say she hated him purely by association, only taking him in because of Dumbledore's letter. This current, genuine worry for his safety couldn't be faked.
Harry didn't understand human complexity. He only knew his life for the past eleven years had been miserable. Hearing his Aunt Petunia object to him staying at Hogwarts, he shot to his feet. "You don't need to worry about my safety!" he yelled. "I'm only unsafe when I'm living here!"
"Ungrateful little wretch! You'd have died without us!" Vernon bellowed, seeing the freak dare to shout at his wife. He instinctively moved to grab his shotgun, only to find it seemed to have a mind of its own, having conveniently hidden itself from view.
"Sit down, Harry. Be quiet," Ryan said.
Though clearly reluctant, Harry sat back down obediently, his hands clutching his knees, his entire posture screaming "unhappy."
"Harry's safety is not a concern; Hogwarts will be fully responsible for him. And Mrs. Dursley, you needn't worry that I'm an imposter. You can always write to Mr. Dumbledore, can't you?"
Hearing this, Vernon stared at his wife, his eyes widening. He never knew that his wife—who practically fainted at the mere mention of her abnormal, freakish relatives—actually had a way to contact that crackpot old man.
"I—" Petunia sputtered.
"Ma'am, no need to deny it. The only reason you're so worried is because of the letter Dumbledore left, correct? The one that emphasized Harry could only be safe here, under his mother's protection." Ryan cut her off. "But the situation has changed. Harry is far safer at Hogwarts now than he is here."
He then turned back to Vernon. "And Mr. Dursley, I'll repeat: I have already repaid you tenfold for Harry's upkeep. He is not an 'ungrateful little wretch.' He is my student and my friend. His name is Harry Potter, the name James Potter and Lily Evans gave him."
"Therefore, Vernon Dursley, for insulting him, I require you to apologize to Harry."
At the mention of James Potter and Lily Evans, both Vernon and Petunia flinched as if they'd been covered in slugs.
But when Vernon heard the demand for an apology, his face turned a deep shade of purple. "In your dreams! A bunch of abnormal freaks! If I had my shotgun—"
Ryan didn't get angry. He was good at dealing with men who believed that holding a gun meant they held all the power. "I hear you're in the drill business, Mr. Dursley?"
Vernon was caught off guard by the non-sequitur. "Yes. That's right."
"And in the drill business, I imagine you come into contact with geology from time to time. You must have some knowledge of prehistoric fossils, correct?"
"I... I've heard things, dealing with the procurement teams."
"Then, Mr. Dursley, can you tell me how the dinosaurs went extinct?"
Dudley, who had been trying unsuccessfully to shrink into the armchair, suddenly found the conversation veering into his one tiny area of expertise. "My science teacher said it was rocks. Rocks made 'em 'stinct."
The others nearly laughed. Considering Dudley's physique and corresponding intellect, the fact that he'd retained any information from class was a miracle and should be encouraged.
Vernon puffed up slightly. "The most common theory I hear from the geology chaps is the... meteor impact theory."
"That's right. In 1980, an American geologist named Walter Alvarez discovered an unusually high concentration of iridium at the K-T boundary. Iridium is rare on Earth but common in asteroids. That's what led to the impact theory."
The science lesson was over. Ryan's tone shifted. "I imagine you both remember the day you took Harry in. The day there were... peculiar people in cloaks... celebrating in the streets. Owls, flying everywhere in broad daylight."
"What are you getting at!" Vernon's temper, which had stabilized while discussing science with the well-dressed young man, instantly began to spike again at the mention of that. Vernon and Petunia might not have noticed, but Harry, after a term with Ryan, suddenly sensed that his senior was deliberately and methodically fraying their nerves.
"Besides the owls and the cloaks, the news that day reported shooting stars all over Britain. There were sightings in Kent, Yorkshire..."
Ryan's words were like a drill, boring into Vernon's ears. His face began to twist.
Ryan continued slowly, "A shower of shooting stars... that no observatory managed to predict. How strange. It's a real mystery how that could have happened... wouldn't you agree, Mr. Dursley?"
Vernon's features went slack. His mouth fell slightly open as he leaned back, sinking deep into the sofa.
"Oh, one last thing. Since we're just... freaks... and don't understand advanced Muggle technology, perhaps you could tell me, Mr. Dursley... which is more powerful? A shotgun? Or a meteor shower?"
Cold sweat beaded on Vernon's forehead. He slid down slightly in his seat before catching himself, forcing himself to sit upright.
He looked at Harry. The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity, though in reality, only a few seconds passed.
"Alright, boy," Vernon said, his voice strained. "I... take back what I said. You're not... a freak. You're a... wizard. Your name... is Harry Potter."
~~~
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