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Chapter 1546: Past Hatred
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 03:44:04 +0000 UTCIn the wedding photograph Sirius had given him of his parents, Harry had never seen his uncle and aunt among the guests.
They hadn’t attended the wedding, but knowing his parents, especially his mother, Harry was sure Petunia and Vernon Dursley had been invited.
Judging from Uncle Vernon's tone, it seemed things had gone wrong at their very first meeting. ...
In the past, Harry would’ve done everything he could to find out what had happened — what his father had said to Uncle Vernon, maybe even demanded an apology from him. If he were feeling especially fired up, he might have even pulled out his wand and done something to his uncle, just like he had inflated his aunt three years ago at about this time of year.
But now, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He knew more about his father now — knew that he wasn’t as perfect as he had once imagined.
Maybe ... Uncle Vernon hadn’t been the one at fault back then.
At this point in his life, the Dursleys’ long-held hatred didn’t mean much to Harry anymore!
Though he would never openly admit it, Harry had, in truth, already forgiven them — or at least, stopped caring.
The things that had once seemed so important to him had lost their weight as he’d grown older.
Once, he had desperately tried to fit into that family, to gain the approval of his uncle and aunt.
But all he ever received in return was disappointment and unfair treatment — and with every passing year, more disappointment and resentment.
Until now, Harry still remembered those thoughts when he was a child, but now, none of it really mattered anymore. A bigger world was waiting for him.
Looking back at the little house that had once felt like a prison, Harry realized his uncle and aunt weren’t as terrible as he’d imagined.
They had their views — just like most Muggles did when it came to wizards. And in the end, the Dursleys had taken him in, even knowing it might be dangerous.
For a Muggle family, that was already a remarkable move.
They could have easily sent him off to an orphanage, just like what Voldemort had gone through, no matter what Dumbledore’s letter said.
Sixteen years ago, Voldemort had chosen Harry himself, marking him. But his misfortune had not repeated itself in Harry’s life. As Dumbledore had once said, Harry’s childhood with the Dursleys might not have been good, but he had been protected, raised, and taught what love was!
Yes, love!
Harry thought again of what Evan had said to him,that he should apologize to Snape on his father’s behalf. Harry still doubted he would ever be able to forgive Snape; but the Dursleys were not Snape. And some things, when said aloud, weren’t actually as hard as they seemed.
"If my dad said something unreasonable to you back then, I apologize on his behalf," Harry suddenly said to Uncle Vernon. His voice was very low, but it was clearly heard by everyone present. “And … goodbye!"
Vernon Dursley froze, stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected Harry to say that.
For a moment, he just stared blankly at Harry, as if lost in thought, then waved his hand irritably.
“Boy, what nonsense are you talking about? I—damn it, are we leaving or not?! We've already wasted too much time.” Dursley left the room, clearly uncomfortable.
“Yes — yes, we are,” said Dedalus Diggle, who had been watching these exchanges with an air of bemusement, and seemed not to understand the strange relationship between Harry and the Dursleys. Now he was urged by Vernon Dursley again, and he seemed to pull himself together. “We really must be off. Harry —"
He tripped forward and wrung Harry’s hand with both of his own.
“— good luck. I hope we meet again. The hopes of the Wizarding world rest upon your shoulders."
“Oh,” said Harry, “right. Thanks."
“Farewell, Harry,” said Hestia, also clasping his hand. “Our thoughts go with you."
“I hope everything’s okay,” said Harry with a glance toward Aunt Petunia and Dudley.
“Oh, I’m sure we shall end up the best of chums,” said Diggle brightly, waving his hat as he left the room. Hestia followed him.
Dudley gently released himself from his mother’s clutches and walked toward Harry, who had to repress an urge to threaten him with magic. Then Dudley held out his large, pink hand.
Aunt Petunia started sobbing again. Harry reached out his hand, too. He could see that Dudley had changed a lot — though after what Harry had just said to Uncle Vernon, this wasn’t even surprising anymore.
Ever since Harry had rescued Dudley from the Dementors, their relationship had changed.
"Goodbye, Harry," said Dudley, and he suddenly came up to hug Harry. "I'll miss you."
“Yeah... I'll miss you too, maybe," said Harry uncertainly, breaking free from Dudley's arms. "Take care, Big D."
Dudley nearly smiled, then lumbered from the room.
Harry heard his heavy footfalls on the graveled drive, and then a car door slammed.
Aunt Petunia, whose face had been buried in her handkerchief, looked around at the sound.
Now, only she and Harry were left in the room.
She did not seem to have expected to find herself alone with him. Hastily stowing her wet handkerchief into her pocket, she said, “Well — good-bye,” and marched toward the door without looking at him.
“Good-bye,” said Harry.
Aunt Petunia stopped and looked back. For a moment, Harry had the strangest feeling that she wanted to say something to him: She gave him an odd, tremulous look and seemed to teeter on the edge of speech, but then, with a little jerk of her head, she bustled out of the room after her husband and son.
Looking at the empty living room, Harry had an inexplicable feeling that he had never felt it so empty in the past sixteen years.
Good-bye, Uncle Vernon!
Good-bye, Aunt Petunia!
Good-bye, Dudley!
Harry ran back upstairs to his bedroom, arriving at the window just in time to see the Dursleys’ car swinging out of the drive and off up the road. Dedalus’s top hat was visible between Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the backseat. The car turned right at the end of Privet Drive, its windows burned scarlet for a moment in the now setting sun, and then it was gone.
Harry picked up Hedwig’s cage, his Firebolt, and his rucksack, gave his unnaturally tidy bedroom one last sweeping look, and then made his ungainly way back downstairs to the hall, where he deposited cage, broomstick, and bag near the foot of the stairs.
The light was fading rapidly now, the hall full of shadows in the evening light.
It felt most strange to stand here in the silence and know that he was about to leave the house for the last time.
The strange feeling he had just had when they parted returned to him, and it became more intense.
Long ago, when he had been left alone while the Dursleys went out to enjoy themselves, the hours of solitude had been a rare treat: Pausing only to sneak something tasty from the fridge, he had rushed upstairs to play on Dudley’s computer, or put on the television and flicked through the channels to his heart’s content.
It gave him an odd, empty feeling to remember those times; it was like remembering a younger brother whom he had lost.
It was his childhood, his memories of being — however unwillingly — a part of the Dursley household. And now, all of it was gone forever!
