A/N: This is an entry for the Pancake Challenge from the HPFC, Level 1: include the word 'pancake' in the story.
Harry walked into the kitchen of Privet Drive Number 4 rather gloomily; nightmares had been plaguing him as of resent- Ginny's motionless body lying in dirty water, a huge green snake arranging its loops around it, and Tom Riddle's sibilant voice laughing that bone-chilling, ice-cold laugh as the world was getting foggier and foggier.
It took him a while to realise that there was someone missing from the sterile kitchen.
"Aunt Petunia," Harry said, "where is Uncle Vernon?"
His aunt didn't turn around to look at him or wish him a good morning. She merely pursed her lips over the frying pan.
"He's at the dentist's," she answered through gritted teeth. "And don't ask questions."
Harry sighed and pulled a chair. Dudley next to him apparently had already finished a plate of pancakes with syrup, and was now waiting for seconds. Wondering why on earth anyone would agree to an eight-thirty appointment at the dentist's, he speared a couple of pancakes from the platter, only to push them back right away. They were cold and their texture sole-like, as if they had been cooked an hour ago. Apparently he had been too optimistic and Uncle Vernon had left when the sky was still dark.
"Here you go, Diddykins," Aunt Petunia added a pile of sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs in Dudley's plate, omitting Harry completely. Well, at least he wouldn't be addressed in that horrible baby voice... He picked an apple and orange from the fruit basket that only he and Aunt Petunia ever touched, and started eating breakfast.
At that point, the sound of heavy walking on the garden path was audible, and the front door opened. Uncle Vernon was a hilarious sight. His face, broad and purple anyway, resembled an aubergine the way his right cheek was swollen and the blood had rushed to his head. The anesthetic he had been given was still in effect, leaving him with poor facial muscle control, so that the right side of his mouth was hanging loosely on his face, making his proud moustache lopsided.
"Oh, Vernon!" squeaked Aunt Petunia and hugged him as if he were a wounded war-hero, fresh back from the bloody front. Dudley waved at his father and continued shoving food down his throat with greater speed, worried perhaps that the root canal was infectious and would deprive him of his favourite past-time, eating.
"Mmmphhhh," Uncle Vernon growled like a pained hippo at the force with which his wife's boney body collided with his.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear," Aunt Petunia took three steps back, and settled with smoothing out Dudley's thick, blonde hair. "Get it," she hissed at Harry, who had been hoping to take a few bites before having to get up, "get the coat."
Uncle Vernon threw his coat and filer at Harry and collapsed on the nearest chair, his piggy eyes watching Dudley simultaneously chew and swallow with a grim expression on his half-paralysed face.
By the time Harry was back, the family had resumed their breakfast. Aunt Petunia carefully was peeling a satsuma, Dudley working on his second serving of English Breakfast, and Uncle Vernon just eating with the eyes. The fact that he was talking with a lisp, spitting around though didn't seem to stop him from filling in the rest about the new dentist.
"...ecthhelent profethionnal, Petunia, ecthhelnt. Dthutht ath good ath Doctor Ogden, too bad he went to Africa with Doctorth without Borderth. But he wath right to recommend them. They're a couple, you know, good people. Abtholutely normal."
Ha, laughed Harry to himself. Of course, for Uncle Vernon to like anyone they had to be 'abtholutely normal'.
"Did you find the office easily, dear?" Aunt Petunia asked politely, yet a little tense, her colourless eyes focusing on the blobs of her husband's saliva spotting her sparkling clean kitchen table. Harry figured she was already making a mental list of all the cleaners she would be using on it.
"Quite, yeth," Uncle Vernon nodded as far as he could, now turning to Harry's orange, resting on the plate, with hunger in his stare. "Harley Thtreet, right with the other well-rethpected profethionnals of their kind. Perfectly normal! Thee doeth the orthodontic work and he taketh care of the more seriouth catheth, along with the normal dentitht thtuff. Ath they thould. I only thaw her for a bit, thee came to greet me ath a new client, you thee, and thee mutht be great with the kidth with brathes. Very normal, like I thead. Fine, clean clothes, nothing like thothe horrible ragth thome are wearing thethe days, and I wath quite glad to thee a doctor in a tie for a tthanthe."
"That's swell, dear, sounds quite normal indeed," Aunt Petunia smiled more honestly this time, and they all turned to eye Harry with meaning, as if it were his fault some Muggle doctors thought it okay to do their 48-hour shifts in sneakers and t-shirts, not ties and stilettos. "Do they have kids?"
"A daughter, from what I thaw," verified Uncle Vernon importantly, despite how ridiculous he looked. "Thee ith a thtudent at a well-rethpected boarding thcool in Thcotland. Very normal girl. Drethhed normally too, thaw her picthure. Thirt and thkirt. I bet her parenthh knew how to thay 'no' when thee came home athking to put on ragged dtheanth and crathy hair."
"How perfectly normal, dear. What did you say their name is?"
"Granther," Uncle Vernon said promptly, trying to enunciate, "Doctor and Doctor Granther."
Harry barely managed to leave on time, spluttering from the orange's juices, before he fell to the floor, laughing hysterically in the corridor, while back in the kitchen Uncle Vernon promised Aunt Petunia to ask for the name of that excellent school at his follow-up appointment.
A/N: Thanks for reading.