A Dark Lord in the Making

Morning Tea with the Dursleys

Dirty blond whiskers quivered back and forth in agitation. They rocked back and forth like the sieve-like structure in a whale's mouth- exactly like whalebone- filtering out all possible clues that might stir Uncle Vernon's wrath. Harry watched mesmerized as his uncle wobbled his nose like a tomato squeezed in a dull and poorly made three-piece suit, his disgust evident in his eyes.

His aunt was no better off. Her eyes seemed to quiver in her sockets and darted nervously back and forth. Her sour expression was etched tighter than ever before and Harry was secretly happy to see that her normal 'I'm-disappointed-in-you' expression could be even more obnoxious. In fact, the moment Gaunt stepped over the threshold, Petunia's face was in default mode, her nose curled up as if she was constantly smelling something foul.

The only one who wasn't uncomfortable in the lounge was Dudley, who asked Gaunt a series of irritating questions; questions where Harry would think the wizard in question would explode at some point and thread Dudley on a spit.

"Are you a freak?" Dudley asked Gaunt unabashedly.

The tall man sat neatly dressed around the coffee table, carefully nibbling on a biscuit freshly unwrapped by Aunt Petunia. A perfectly formed eyebrow rose, his crimson eyes blazing. He put down the tasteless cookie in a slow motion and turned his attention to the fat teen.

"Last time I checked myself, I didn't see any abnormal deformities. I'm- if I may say so myself- perfect," Gaunt said in a neutral tone.

"And narcissistic," Harry muttered softly into his cup of tea.

The quiver of a luscious upper lip betrayed Gaunt that he had heard Harry, but the man sat like a model of a well-behaved Lord, with perfect manners.

"Are you a fag?" Dudley asked suddenly, his plump face still in a confused expression.

"I work hard if that's what you're asking."

Harry promptly choked on his tea and tried to improve his posture, but failed. This resulted in a reproachful look from Gaunt, which resulted in blush on Harry's face.

Dudley didn't stop though, no, he had to dig his grave deeper and looked at Gaunt as if he was from another planet. "How do you go from being a fag to being a hard worker?"

Gaunt rolled his eyes and looked contemptuously at Dudley. "Intelligence is definitely not your strong point?"

Dudley shrugged at this but continued to stare breathlessly at Gaunt, waiting for an answer.

"I'll put it in a sentence, maybe then the concept will have more meaning for you. 'The lower boys in each house are fagged for members of the Library.' So, that means a public school student doing small chores for an older student," Gaunt explained in a clear voice.

Dudley laughed his rolls of fat twitching from the jerking motion that caused his burst of laughter. Vernon looked shocked at Gaunt, his red face turning an unhealthy purple. Aunt Petunia seemed to have choked on her dry biscuit, for all she could produce was sputtering noises. Uncle Vernon was the first to recover.

"There is no mention of fagging for older students in my house!" he shouted, his saliva splashing around.

Gaunt didn't seem surprised at the older man's outburst but seemed fascinated to gauge and chart his reactions, like a boy who sprinkles salt on snails, watching their slimy skin bubble and dry out with the salt.

"Maybe you should teach your son not to ask offensive questions," Gaunt said in a cold tone.

"You-" sputtered Vernon, searching for the right words, or in his case, crude words. However, he decided to fall back on his usual swearword, "Freak!"