Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

The atmosphere in the living room was as oppressive as ever.

Except now, the two people had become three, plus a dog.

The fierce-looking white bulldog, Pete, lay leisurely by the burning fireplace, comfortably sneezing to the crackling sounds of the wood, then closed his eyes, leaving the scene to the three "Dursleys" sitting on the sofa with their own thoughts.

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"My dear brother, what absurd rumors have I been hearing lately?"

Marge slowly picked up the tea that the couple had just made for her on the coffee table, took a sip, and then, with half-closed eyes, glanced at Vernon, who was wearing a stiff smile beside her. She continued in her sharp, mean voice,

"These crazy stories say you gave up your excellent position as a manager at Grunnings to work as a low-level worker in some candy factory. That's not true, is it, Vernon?"

The stiff smile on Vernon's face became even more strained, his cheeks flushed slightly, and even his forehead began to bead with sweat.

In the living room, the oppressive atmosphere became even heavier due to this untimely question, as if it had materialized. It even made Pete, who was sleeping soundly by the fire, open his sleepy eyes and look towards the sofa with a puzzled expression.

After a long silence, Dursley wiped his sweat and finally responded softly,

"Yes, Marge, I quit my job and now I work at Charlie's Chocolate Factory."

As soon as he said this, her half-closed eyes suddenly opened wide, and her sharp gaze shot straight at Vernon, making him feel as if his heart had been squeezed hard by something.

"Clang!"

The white porcelain teacup containing the black tea was heavily placed back on the coffee table. The next second, a storm of abuse erupted.

"Have you gone mad?! Vernon Dursley!"

The sharp and terrifying voice roared and swept through the entire house. Even Aunt Petunia, who had always been called a "witch" by Harry, could only feel inferior under such momentum, and subconsciously shifted her position a little to the side.

"Good heavens, I can't believe it. Have you gone mad, or have I gone mad, or has the whole world gone crazy? Wasn't your decent and respected job good enough?

You only needed to sit in the office, leisurely drinking coffee, and every week a large sum of money would be deposited into your account.

And now? You stand on the assembly line, gathered with a bunch of good-for-nothing idiots, and you won't see any chance of getting ahead in this lifetime! Tell me, Vernon Dursley, tell your sister, what on earth are you thinking?"

Faced with such a barrage of relentless scolding, Petunia and Vernon had no choice but to continue smiling stiffly and nodding in agreement.

The two looked at each other. Although they still felt an indescribable embarrassment, they both breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little.

Until now, Marge hadn't noticed the fact that Dudley wasn't here. If the current situation continued to develop, perhaps Petunia and Vernon could really fool their troublesome sister.

When this storm of abuse ended, presumably the sister, who had been full of anger, would no longer be in the mood to stay here for dinner.

At that time, although it would end in a way that wasn't very dignified on this important and meaningful Christmas holiday, in some ways, it would be the best possible outcome. At least, their family could maintain the normalcy it should have in the Muggle world, and not be regarded as heretics. Their son could safely get through another year, waiting for Vernon to find a way to turn him back into a human again.

Although the chances were slim.

Just as the two of them made up their minds and were thinking about how to make Marge's anger even greater, suddenly, a soft "creak" came from upstairs, as if someone was trying to open the door, which immediately made Petunia and Vernon break out in cold sweats. Their gradually natural expressions became even stiffer.

Vernon rolled his eyes, turning his face towards Marge and looking at Petunia, deliberately winking, as if asking her, hadn't she locked the door?

As husband and wife for more than a decade, she naturally understood Vernon's meaning, so even though she still had doubts in her heart, she hurriedly responded, indicating that she had locked the door.

Sure enough, the next second, there was a soft "click" from the axis of the upstairs door lock, and then there was no more movement.

The couple couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. But Marge seemed to have noticed something, and couldn't help but frown, suspiciously looking up at the upstairs, changing the subject and asking,

"Did I hear wrong? Was that Dudley's voice upstairs?"

Before Marge could finish her words, goosebumps covered the two of them. Petunia quickly stood up with a whoosh and blurted out,

"Ah! Petunia, the tea in your cup seems to have gotten cold. I'll go make you another hot cup."

After speaking, she took the still steaming black tea from in front of Marge without explanation, and then hurriedly left the living room with a swift pace.

Vernon wasn't idle either. Seeing his wife leave, he hurriedly coughed deliberately, and flusteredly took over the conversation, continuing,

"Oh, right! My dear sister!

! Uh, uh, did I tell you the story of how I haven't been going home on time after work lately, but instead going to the bar with a bunch of workers to drink until late at night?"

Until this moment, even Marge, who had been talking to herself since entering the door and hadn't noticed anything strange, finally realized the weirdness of the couple's behavior, and the suspicious look on her face only increased.

"Get out of the way, Vernon." She reached out and pushed Vernon, who was trying to block her view, to the side, stood up, and was about to walk towards the upstairs.

"This is really strange. Why are you two acting so weird today?"

"Wait, sister!

I actually took Dudley's college fund to the casino last month. Maybe you want to scold me for that."

The persistent Vernon's heart was almost in his throat. Despair had already risen in his eyes, but he still subconsciously wanted to climb up from the sofa in embarrassment and stand in front of Marge.

Seeming to sense that the atmosphere was gradually becoming wrong, Pete, who had been resting peacefully by the fireplace just a second ago, suddenly stood up, arched his stocky back high, and barked uneasily at Vernon.

The atmosphere was eerie, the temperature dropped to freezing point, and Petunia stood helplessly at the kitchen door, holding the black tea that was no different from the one she had taken away before, watching Petunia walk slowly upstairs.

"Ding-dong."

Suddenly, a crisp doorbell rang outside the door, which immediately attracted everyone's attention.

"Excuse me, is this the Dursleys' house?"

The voice at the door was particularly familiar, and at this moment, in Vernon's ears, it was more like some kind of Christmas gospel, causing him to burst into tears, his lips trembling as he murmured,

"Holy Son, Holy Mother, Holy Spirit, thank you for the miracle you have sent."