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"Mom, I think we can take care of ourselves."
Dudley frowned as he looked at his parents.
Recently, Vernon's career had completely taken off. Grunnings was sending him to Germany to negotiate a major contract. If he succeeded, he would be promoted to sales manager.
The only problem was the duration of the trip — around three months.
In theory, only Vernon needed to travel. Petunia could have stayed home to take care of Dudley and… the others.
But Vernon was utterly dependent on his wife. If he went even a single day without seeing her, the next day he would be exhausted, unfocused, and his work performance would plummet.
Because of that, Petunia had to go with him. Fortunately, the company would reimburse all expenses.
"My dear, you're still a child," Petunia said seriously.
Hearing that, Dudley rolled his eyes internally.
Have you ever seen a ten-year-old kid win a high school boxing championship?
That was Dudley's most recent title. Unlike last year's tournament, this time he had competed in an older age division.
"Harry and I are already ten years old. In other worlds, kids our age would already be traveling the world with their first starter monster."
Dudley complained silently.
"I can cook, do laundry… I mean, we can take care of ourselves," he argued logically.
"Dudley, we're not going away for a day or two. It's three full months," Petunia replied.
"I won't leave my child alone at home."
Whether intentionally or not, she completely ignored Harry's existence.
"And I won't leave you alone with that… freak either," Vernon added firmly, clearly referring to Harry — and, as usual, only because Petunia was present.
"Who knows if that boy might turn you into something like him."
I wish I could become a wizard. I dream about it.
"Then I'm not going to Aunt Marge's. Absolutely not!"
Dudley replied firmly, emphasizing the very first word he had learned as a baby: absolutely not.
Marge Dursley was Vernon's sister and Dudley's aunt. Much of the improvement in the Dursley family's life had come thanks to her help. Dudley was grateful to his aunt — but living with her for three months was out of the question.
It wasn't that Aunt Marge disliked Dudley. On the contrary, she liked him far too much. Every time she saw him, she would squeeze his round cheeks mercilessly.
The problem was her lifestyle.
Marge raised twelve bulldogs. And that alone wasn't even the worst part.
The real issue was that she treated those dogs better than people.
Living with her meant sharing food, space, and even beds with twelve dogs — not to mention the constant risk of finding dog saliva in your own bowl.
Dudley liked dogs.
He just didn't like eating dog slobber.
Seeing how completely resolute Dudley was, Vernon and Petunia exchanged glances.
They both knew that sending him to Marge's would end in disaster.
What if we take Dudley with us to Germany?
But the costs… and his schooling…
They silently communicated through their eyes.
Noticing their hesitation, Dudley seized the moment.
"I can stay with Harry at Mrs. Figg's house, just next door."
Going to Germany was also out of the question. He didn't speak the language, it sounded boring… much better to stay near Harry and continue "reaping benefits."
Mrs. Figg — whose full name was Arabella Figg — was a kind elderly woman who always wore knitted vests. She was energetic, friendly, and lived two streets away from the Dursleys. Technically two streets — but practically, she was almost a next-door neighbor.
Whenever the Dursleys traveled or were away for extended periods, she was the one entrusted with taking care of Harry.
Perhaps because she had looked after Harry so many times without charging anything, the relationship between Mrs. Figg and the Dursleys was fairly good.
"Dudley, we'll be gone for three whole months. We won't be able to come back during that time," Petunia tried again.
But Dudley didn't budge.
If he couldn't stay home alone, and couldn't go to Mrs. Figg's, then the only remaining option would be Aunt Marge's house.
That was unacceptable.
The Food Protector would never compromise.
After much arguing and no success in changing his mind, Vernon and Petunia had no choice but to entrust both boys to Mrs. Figg.
Harry, who had initially been saddened by the idea of leaving his "little room," instantly brightened when he heard that he would be staying with Dudley for those three months.
Noticing the happiness on Harry's face, Vernon bent down with effort, pointed at him, and warned:
"Listen here, boy. Even if we're not around, don't you dare hurt Dudley. Or him, or my family. If I find out anything… you know what will happen."
He raised his thick arm — wider than Harry's waist — in an intimidating gesture.
Harry didn't really understand, but he nodded obediently.
Perhaps Harry no longer remembered it, but when he was very young — due to a magical outburst or something similar — something strange had happened, and Dudley, who wasn't as strong back then, had been injured.
Vernon might not have been a good uncle.
But he was, without a doubt, a good husband and a good father in his own way.
Mrs. Figg's house was decorated in an extremely old-fashioned style. The size was similar to the Dursleys' house, but the atmosphere was completely different.
The interior was somewhat dim. The furniture was simple. In the living room, aside from a lit fireplace, there was only a worn sofa, a table, and a few chairs.
No electronic devices.
Not even a radio.
A real relic.
That was how the Dursleys described it.
The air was intermittently filled with a strong cat smell. For some people it would be unpleasant — but Dudley didn't mind it at all.
Vernon hated the smell, so he didn't even step inside. All the discussion was handled by Petunia and Mrs. Figg.
Mrs. Figg readily agreed to take care of Dudley and Harry.
Before leaving, Petunia slipped some money into her hand.
Taking care of Harry alone could be done for free — after all, he didn't eat much. But adding Dudley to the equation was impossible. The amount of food Dudley consumed in a single day probably exceeded what Mrs. Figg ate in an entire week.
Three months… even the Dursleys didn't have the nerve to impose like that.
Besides, the family's reputation in the neighborhood was fairly decent — at least among ordinary people.
As soon as Vernon and Petunia left, Dudley began moving around Mrs. Figg's house naturally, as if he were looking for something.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
With surprisingly swift movements, he grabbed a passing kitten.
Under the cat's utterly despairing gaze, Dudley buried his chubby face into the cat's soft, pale belly and took several deep breaths.
Then he let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"Ahhh… Snowy is so comforting to hug."
From his movements, it was obvious that Dudley had done this many times before.
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