Harry paced back and forth in front of the door, eyes glued to the letter box. Every time he heard a noise from outside, he would freeze and stare with wide eyes at the slot, then resume pacing once nothing came through it.
"What's with you, boy?" Vernon asked, exasperated.
"I'm a wizard," Harry muttered, darkly.
"What? Oh!" Vernon's eyes went from his nephew to the letter slot. Then he sighed and folded his newspaper carefully. "Come here, lad."
Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered over to Vernon's easy chair. His uncle pointed to the other chair and said, "Have a seat, Harry." Harry sat.
"Look, Harry, Pet' and I have always tried to treat you like a son. No different from Dudley."
"I know," Harry said.
"And we haven't talked about that… other thing… very much, because, well, it's not something we have a lot of experience with. Pet' knows a little more about that world than I do, because of Lily, but…"
"That's just it!" Harry exclaimed. "It got my parents killed! Why would I want to go into that world? Full of weirdos with magic wands and things? It's dangerous!"
Vernon sighed. Unlike with Gordon, Vernon's sighs weren't so easily translated, so Harry waited. "Harry," Vernon told him, "I won't claim that we wouldn't all rather you stayed here, with us, in Little Whinging." He paused to consider the statement, uncertain it meant what he wanted to say. "I mean, we'd all rather you stayed here. You know that.
"But, honestly, this has to be your choice. We can't make it for you." He leaned back in his chair. "In that world, well, it's very different. Not just the magic, I mean. From what Pet' tells me, they don't even have electricity. Don't understand technology. But it isn't just that, or that they have magic. Their children are treated much more like adults at a very young age."
"Well, that's a plus," Harry muttered.
Vernon grinned. "Perhaps. Your mum and dad got married very young. It's common there, I gather. What I hear from Pet', this school, a lot of the children from wealthy families go there not just to learn to do magic and all that, but to find a future spouse."
"At eleven?" Harry asked, aghast.
"Perhaps not quite that young," Vernon said, "but by the time they leave? Yes." He sighed and rested a big hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry. We can't decide this for you. Can't even give you any meaningful advice. You have to choose for yourself."
Harry sighed. "I know," he muttered.
"We can't even tell you," Vernon told him, "if you should give it a chance. We've…" He paused and considered. "We've never formally adopted you, because we thought you should have a chance to be a part of your father's world, if that was your choice. I admit, I find it all odd," he added with a shake of his head, "but it's still got to be your choice." He grinned at his nephew. "I'm sure all that was very helpful," he said with a cheery tone.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, dad, super-helpful."
"What I'm here for," Vernon said as he picked up his paper.
Harry snickered. "I thought you were here to blame your farts on the dog," he suggested.
Vernon gave him a narrow-eyed stare. "Listen, boy, that dog is old and incontinent. I can't be blamed for every flatulent noise it makes."
The door banged open and Dudley charged in, arms full of grocery bags, Petunia right on his heels with a sigh. "Dudley!" she called, "Slow down! Get back here and wipe your feet! Oh, if you trod dirt all over the carpet…"
"Chocolate cake, Harry!" Dudley announced with a smile, "With chocolate whipped cream on top! And cherries! The good kind!"
Harry grinned and got up. "Sounds great," he said. He helped Dudley get the bags to the kitchen and they started to put away the things for Harry's birthday supper.
"Anything come yet?" Dudley asked, voice low. He glanced over his shoulder.
"No," Harry said, voice equally low. "Nothing yet. Had a talk with dad about it, though."
"Oh?" Dudley gave him a look.
"He said you all can't decide for me," Harry said, "That it has to be my own decision."
"Oh, yes," Dudley said, "that's very helpful."
Harry snorted. "Also, he claims the dog's the one that does all the farts."
Dudley grinned. Before he could say anything, though, Petunia came in with a few more bags. "Here's the rest of it," she said. "Marge called, she should be here about five. And the post has come." The last words, and her tone of voice made Harry and Dudley both pause.
"It…" Harry started.
"Yes," Petunia said. She looked at Harry's face and sighed. "We can talk about it later, Harry. You don't need to make a decision right now. And we don't need to let this spoil your birthday party." As thin as Vernon was stout, Petunia still gave a pretty decent hug.
Harry pressed his head against her shoulder and said, "Thanks, mum."
Dudley, too concerned with his male image to hug his cousin, clapped him on the back. "Just think about chocolate cake, Harry. Be strong!"
Harry laughed, but his eyes held something besides humor.