Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

When Dudley heard Harry mention the Dementors, his hands jerked upward to cover his mouth.

With his parents’ and Harry’s eyes upon him, he slowly lowered them again and asked anxiously, “There are … more of them?”

“More?” laughed Harry. “More than the two that attacked us, you mean? Of course there are, there are thousands, probably all that’s left, because Dumbledore destroyed the evil … that creature beneath Azkaban, there are no more new Dementors, but the current number alone is enough to form a powerful army. They’re very hard to destroy. Dementors feed off fear and despair —”

“All right, all right,” blustered Vernon Dursley. “Stop saying those horrible words, you’ve made your point.”

At last, he seemed to understand what was really going on. There were thousands of monsters spreading fear and despair wandering around outside their house.

The thick fog that had been hanging over the country for a year was caused by them, and the TV kept saying it was due to air pollution.

Weren’t those Ministry of the Environment officials supposed to be doing something useful?

Because of that fog, Mr. Dursley’s mechanical company had been inspected many times this year, and many of their operations had suffered. Now he realized that the damned fog was magical — caused by Dementors. It was just — just… damn it!

“I hope so,” said Harry, locking eyes with his uncle’s small, piggy ones, “because once I’m seventeen, all of them — Death Eaters, Dementors, werewolves, maybe even Inferi — which means dead bodies enchanted by a Dark wizard — will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you’ll agree you need help.”

There was another moment of silence, and the Dursleys were all thinking back.

Their past run-ins with wizards: Sirius Black’s fierce threats, Arthur Weasley blowing up their fireplace, Dudley growing a pig’s tail, and of course, their first terrifying encounter with magic, the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years.

Aunt Petunia was looking at Uncle Vernon; Dudley was staring at Harry.

Silence, silence, silence!

Finally Uncle Vernon blurted out, “But what about my work? What about Dudley’s school? I don’t suppose those things matter to a bunch of layabout wizards, do they? So, what exactly do you plan to do about all that?”

“Work? school?! Don’t you understand?” shouted Harry. “They will torture and kill you like they did to my parents!”

“Dad,” said Dudley in a loud voice, “Dad — I’m going with these Order people.”

“Dudley,” said Harry, “for the first time in your life, you’re talking sense.”

He knew that the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order’s help, his parents would accompany him: There could be no question of being separated from their Diddykins. Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

“What day is it? Yes, it’s today, and they will be here in about a minute as agreed last time,” he said, “get ready.”

None of the Dursleys replied, and he left the room. The prospect of parting — probably forever — from his aunt, uncle, and cousin was one that he was able to contemplate quite cheerfully, but there was nevertheless a certain awkwardness in the air.

At the end of sixteen years’ solid dislike, what else could they say to each other?

Reason told Harry that he should thank his aunt and uncle for taking him in and keeping him safe, but if he could do it all over again, Harry would rather never have come here at all.

Complex emotions condensed in Harry’s heart. He wanted to pretend to be relaxed and say goodbye to the Dursleys, but at this moment, the word was so, so difficult to say.

Maybe it was better this way — just to part like this!

Back in his bedroom, Harry fiddled aimlessly with his rucksack, then poked a couple of owl nuts through the bars of Hedwig’s cage. They fell with dull thuds to the bottom, where she ignored them.

“We’re leaving soon, really soon,” Harry told her. “And then you’ll be able to fly again, and you’ll never have to come back here. Never…”

Hedwig stared at Harry quietly with her big amber eyes.

Strange, why was she a little sad? Shouldn’t she be happy?

Harry tried not to think about the future of the Dursleys. Instead, he thought of Evan, Hermione, and how they would say goodbye to their parents.

He knew that would be much, much harder than what he was going through now.

……………………………………………………………………

Just as Harry had expected, their farewell was incredibly hard.

Evan and Hermione had discussed that they were going to modify the memories of both parents. Evan’s parents were going to China, and in their minds, they had never had a son. Hermione’s parents, on the other hand, had always dreamed of moving to Australia — and now that dream was about to come true.

The Order of the Phoenix had arranged for them to be escorted to the airport, and wizards abroad would help protect them.

They would all change their names, so that Voldemort would not find them easily.

Once the war was over, if Evan and Hermione were still alive, they would seek out their parents. But if they didn’t return, then the magic placed on their parents would ensure a lifetime of safety and happiness — just without children. They would forget Evan and Hermione entirely, never remembering the painful memories at all.

Every time they discussed this plan, Hermione’s eyes would brim with tears. Evan knew it was too cruel for her.

He wanted Hermione to go with her parents, or, following his original idea, to study abroad at a Wizarding school in China — but every time he brought it up, Hermione became furious and threatened to turn him into a black cat and teach him a proper lesson.

Evan knew Hermione would never leave him.

As early as a few months ago, when he first shared his plans with her — no, it had been years ago, when Hermione chose to be with him, she had already made her decision.

They would not be separated, not even if it meant embarking on a dangerous journey together — not even if the journey ended in death.

She was willing. And Evan knew he couldn’t refuse her.

In the end, he volunteered to cast the Memory Charm on the Grangers himself, but Hermione refused — she wanted to do it on her own. …

Perhaps they had sensed something — though no one said it aloud — but that afternoon, when Evan and Hermione came downstairs, they found both sets of their parents sitting quietly in the living room.

They knew: the time had come to say goodbye!

When Hermione couldn’t hold back her tears and threw herself into Mrs. Granger’s arms, Evan’s grip on his wand loosened. Under the calm, steady gazes of his own parents, he explained everything — what was really happening, and the choices he and Hermione had made.

The atmosphere was quiet and sorrowful, and there was not much shock.

At the beginning of this summer, when Lupin brought them here, he had already explained the situation in general terms. Their parents had been mentally preparing for this for some time.

They just hadn’t expected the day to come so soon.

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