Obliviate My Choices {Book 4}

3. Unexpected inheritance

"Why didn't you tell them?" I groaned, Harry frozen with a pair of trainers in his hand. "They'll go mental?"

"Well I didn't think he'd show up here!" Harry hissed, throwing his trainers into his trunk. "Plus I was kinda preocupied with making sure you weren't dead in a ditch!"

We engaged in a stare-off until Dumbledore spoke from downstairs,"Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry or Aurora have told you I would be coming for them?"

Harry and I exchanged a look, before we started trying to push each other out of Harry's room to get into the fray quicker. Harry shoved me hardly, and I tripped over his trunk and flew out onto the landing, hands grazing the top stairs.

Dumbledore and Uncle Vernon looked up at me, Dumbledore with a smile, Uncle Vernon with a scowl. Harry appeared, grabbing my arm and the two of us heading downstairs.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, neither your niece or nephew did not warn you that I was coming," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him.

"It is a long time since my last visit," said Dumbledore, peering down his crooked nose at Uncle Vernon. "I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing."

Uncle Vernon glared at Dumbledore, vein popping in his head. I didn't know too much about my Uncle (having relgiously avoided him the past two summers I'd stayed here) but I could tell he knew Dumbledore was a hard person to try and bully. 

"Ah, good evening, Harry and Aurora." Dumbledore said with a pleasent smile as he shut the door behind him. "Excellent, excellent."

Uncle Vernon looked at Dumbledore as if he was gum on his shoe. "I'm not trying to be rude--" He began in a rude voice.

"--yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished the sentence gravely. "Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia."

My Aunt had emerged from the kitchen in yellow rubber gloves, in the middle of cleaning. Her mouth hung open in shock. 

"Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore, when Uncle Vernon failed to effect an introduction. "We have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door, looking afraid. Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled.

"Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?" 

Harry and I exchanged a glance before following everybody into the living room. Dumbledore sat on an armchair, painfully reminding me of my thirteenth birthday when he first arrived.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley squashed onto the sofa, while Harry and I hovered awkwardly

"Aren't--aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked anxiously, eager to leave.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first," said Dumbledore. "And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?" Uncle Vernon sniffed.

"Yes," said Dumbledore simply, "I shall."

My eyes flickered around the room, and I saw that Dumbledore's hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

"Professor, what happened?" I asked, startled. 

"Later, Aurora," said Dumbledore. "Please sit down."

Harry and I squished together on the last armchair, linking arms to not fall off.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment," Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon, "but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."