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"You'll never fit in with use, boy," said his father angrily. His wrathful countenance frightened the young lad, and filled him with a fear that was destined to grow into bitterness and spite. He hung his head in shame. Here he was, his father's only son, and far beyond any hope. He failed. He couldn't carry on the family traditions, he couldn't inherit the mantle of honor, he couldn't continue their noble obligation. And, as the flickering candlelight lent deathly orange-tinged shadows to his aspect, he dropped his innocence to the floor.
"That's more than enough of that, boy," huffed Uncle Vernon, looking ready to smack the smile out of Harry. "Quit chuckling and turn the bacon before it burns." Harry at once put on a serious face, and stifled the last of his laughs. He quickly flipped the crepes, too. The kitchen smelled of greasy sausages, and . . .
"Are you blind?" roared Vernon Dursley. "That bacon's nearly on fire!"
"I'm sorry," stammered the poor six-year-old. "I can't see.
Petunia cast a nervous glance at her husband./ She whispered, "The school is insisting that we have his eyes checked, Vern-he has to have glasses. If we refuse, well, they could take him . . ."
A sharp pain shot through Vernon's chest. For a brief and breathless moment, he suspected another heart attack. But that was not the truth of it.
He could not allow the boy to go another place. Harry must not be freed. Yes, Vernon had wanted to keep him blind, and in darkness. But if he could not keep him totally and literally blind, then he would just hide the important sights instead. This charge that had been laid upon him was his only hope.
So later that day, Petunia took Harry to the tiny clinic on the grimy end of town. He sat on the torn vinyl-covered chair, nervously kicking his legs beneath him, wondering what unpleasantness awaited him. Harry only ever came here to get a nasty shot-his required immunizations.
Two hours later, Harry had a brand new pair of glasses. The small child was quite delighted with the thick black frames-they were his, they were different, and they were the only new thing he had ever gotten. Three hour later, Harry finished taping the lenses back together – Dudley having much enjoyed the snapping sound they made.
Vernon awoke at four A.M., as he did each and every morning. He was careful not to awaken Petunia. Stepping carefully around the double bed, he picked his way over to the window, and looked up and out.
Tell me I'm fulfilling my duty, he thought. Tell me that the past nine years haven't been in vain. Tell be I've so crushed his spirit that nothing will rise within him, that your desires are satisfied. A sparrow fluttered out from the shrub below and startled him. Not the bird he'd hoped for, the one that so rarely came. But he checked daily at four A.M., and went back to bed unseen.
Had he bound, blinded, stifled and silenced Harry enough? Would Vernon's reward be paid to him?
