Tasty Thoughts

Fingerfood

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE HAS DINNER AT DR. LECTER'S?!" shouted Vernon with all his might. Not too gently, Petunia grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the kitchen, closing the kitchen window hastily at the same time.

"What I meant-" Petunia hissed shyly looking out the window, searching for a curious neighbor who would look over the fence to see what was causing all the commotion. "-Is that Dr. Lecter has offered to treat the boy."

Harry detested his morbid curiosity and crept closer. He hid behind one of the comfortable armchairs that dotted the living room and unashamedly overheard his aunt and uncle's conversation. When his uncle let out a dejected sigh, Harry had to give credit to the man's common sense- after all, he couldn't understand why his aunt had agreed that he would talk to the psychiatrist. After all, it seemed contradictory, what should Harry discuss: his childhood (where to start; the cupboard under the stairs, or the constant belittling he had to endure from his family) or his schooling (with an extensive explanation that he learns to transfigure an animal into a glass goblet). With a grin, he imagined the conversation he would have if he confessed that he had tried to torture a woman with a spell, or how he had to fight for his life every year- like some high school graduation- against some insane psychopath.

"What I don't understand, Pet , is what benefit we would get from having the boy speak to the psychiatrist. It could even be harmful... to us," Vernon said more quietly than Harry had ever heard him.

The hesitation was audible in Petunia's voice, formidable from her husband's reaction. "I have discussed extensively with Dr. Lecter about the boy. Dr. Lecter knows of his... deplorable character and expressed his understanding and compassion. The doctor believes that he can improve the boy's rebellious behavior."

"What if the boy does something... freakish?" Vernon said as his mustache began to quiver, a tick the man had when got stressed or angry.

"The boy can't use magic outside of school," Petunia began, to which Vernon vehemently, "Don't use that word!" growled.

"Any outbursts of magic are due to his nasty nature and reinforce my story I have uttered about the boy," continued Petunia, not paying attention to her husband, who was now quite flushed.

"Popkin," Vernon began in an almost pleading tone, "it's still risky, and it's not worth that much..."

"It ensures us that we can finally go to the restaurant tonight. The one you've been wanting to take us to for weeks. I've also told the doctor a lot about the boy- he knows he's a compulsive liar, I've provided him with additional documentation of his time at St Grogory's."

"Why on earth would you do that?!" shouted Vernon, though his volume was many decibels lower than his earlier screams.

"Dr. Lecter asked about it," Petunia replied bitingly. "It fits with his records and further consolidates our story about the boy. His teachers have described several times how the boy is connected to fights and other unexplained disturbances. The boy's referral to St Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys has been added to the file."

"And the conversation with Dr. Lecter?" said Vernon in anticipation.

Petunia gave her husband a frugal smile. "We, as his guardians, have the right to review Dr. Lecter's dossier on the boy."

"Is that right?" Vernon asked, curling his broad mustache into a calculated smile. "So there will be a report?"

Petunia nodded. "Dr. Lecter insisted not to take the boy on as a patient, but to label their time together as conversations. In this way, he has no professional secrecy, but he can draw his conclusions and state them in the file we have about the boy."