𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 (2) || 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘴 𝘓𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘯

𝐈. 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

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"They'll be driving, of course?" Vernon Dursley snapped across the table of his living room, looking over at the thin boy perched on the sofa, his dark hair messy on his scalp, and a dark rucksack slotted between his legs.

"Er..." Harry thought for a second. "I think so." He nodded to himself, unsure.

His uncle snorted, and Harry couldn't figure out if it was a sound of frustration or disgust.

Probably both.

Time marched on, and there was no sign of the Weasley's pulling up their car outside 4 Privet Drive.

Harry tapped his shoe on the carpet.

They hadn't forgotten about him, had they?

His aunt was repeatedly straightening cushions, Vernon was pretending to read the paper, but really he was listening out for any sign of a car nearing the drive.

His cousin sat on the sofa, tense as a rock, wearily holding his behind, no doubt remembering the fiasco that happened nearly three years ago when the Wizarding World entered the Muggles' lives.

Five o'clock came, and Vernon began to complain.

"They're late!"

"I know." Harry replied quietly. "Maybe... erm... maybe the traffic's bad or something?"

Ten past five came.

Then quarter past.

Harry heard his aunt and uncle muttering to themselves in the kitchen.

"No consideration at all."

"They might've had an engagement."

"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late?"

"They most certainly won't be."

Harry heard his uncle stand from where he was sitting on the stairs, worriedly watching the door.

Vernon began to pace the living room.

"They'll take the boy and go, there'll be no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tin-pot car that's broken d — AAAAAHHHHRRRGG!"

Harry leapt up from the stairs, running through the hall, where his cousin flew back, a face full of fear.

"What's happened? What's the matter?" Harry asked the boy, who shook his head, tightening his grip on his rear, waddling past the boy and taking refuge in the kitchen.

Harry hurried into the living room. Loud scraping noises were coming from the families boarded-up fireplace, which had a large electric fake coal fireplace plugged in front of it.

"What is it? What is it Vernon!?" Petunia gasped, backing into the wall beside her husband.

But before the stunned man could reply, voices sounded from behind the bricks.

"Ouch! Fred, no — go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake — tell George not to — Ouch! George, no, there's no room, quickly, go back before Edith and Ron —"

George's voice sounded from within the wall next. "Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad. Maybe he'll be able to let us out —"

Fists smacked from inside the brick wall, and a crack sounded from inside.