Harry Potter: The Angel of Death C41 (Patreon)

Chapter 41: Interlude Part II

It was an ordinary summer morning in the Dursleys' house. Vernon Dursley had been halfway through breakfast when the first knock sounded at the door. It was loud and insistent, the sort that you can not just ignore.

Petunia looked up from her tea, and Dudley frowned around a mouthful of bacon. Vernon muttered something under his breath before stomping toward the front door. When he opened it, he found six police officers standing outside, and all of Vernon's indignation and irritation faded away as he straightened his back. 

"Vernon Dursley?"

"What is this about?"

The officer's expression remained neutral.

"Mr. Vernon Dursley, you are under arrest on suspicion of drug trafficking, tax fraud, and participation in an organized criminal enterprise."

The color drained from Vernon's face and Petunia dropped her teacup.

"What?!"

The officer went on in a calm, professional manner, showing no reaction to the growing panic on Vernon's face. After he finished listing the charges, an almost surreal silence settled over Number Four as the accusations hung in the air, each sounding more unbelievable than the last; Vernon could only stare at the officer as though he were speaking a foreign language until the shock finally shattered.

"This is nonsense!" he bellowed. "There must be some mistake!" His face had turned a dangerous shade of red. "I've never sold drugs in my life!"

Two officers stepped forward immediately, as if ready to restrain him, and the reaction only made Vernon angrier.

Petunia looked as though she might faint.

"There has to be some misunderstanding," she said, her voice trembling. "My husband is a respectable businessman."

The officer merely informed her that she would have an opportunity to discuss the matter with legal counsel but Petunia did not seem reassured.

Dudley, meanwhile, sat frozen at the kitchen table. His breakfast remained forgotten in front of him, and he looked between his parents and the police officers with a lost look on his face. He genuinely had no idea what was happening. 

"Mum?"

Nobody answered him and Dudley just sat there. 

The first officer stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Two more followed, spreading through the hallway.

Vernon stared at them in disbelief.

"Now see here—"

"Mr. Dursley," the lead officer interrupted, unfolding a sheet of paper. "Before we proceed, I am required to inform you of your rights."

The words that followed seemed to drain the color from the room. Petunia gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and with every sentence, her expression grew more strained.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

"This is absurd," she whispered. "There must be some mistake."

The officer continued reading and Vernon's confusion rapidly transformed into indignation.

"Mistake?" he snapped. "Of course it's a mistake. This is ridiculous."

The officer reached the end of the statement and folded the paper away.

Vernon took a step forward.

"I’m a respected businessman, I’ve never had so much as a run-in with the police. Do you even know who I am?"

The lead officer regarded him with polite indifference.

"Yes, sir. That's why we're here."

For a moment Vernon seemed unable to process the answer and then his face darkened.

"This is harassment. I'll be speaking to my solicitor. I'll be filing complaints. Every one of you will regret—"

His voice rose steadily with each sentence, but the officers remained completely unmoved. One began examining documents, another spoke into a radio, and a third moved toward the stairs. The utter lack of reaction only made Vernon angrier.

"You can't just walk into my house!"

When he moved as though intending to block their path, two officers immediately stepped between him and the hallway.

Uncertainty appeared on Vernon's face, his eyes moved from one officer to another as though searching for some sign that this was all a misunderstanding, and then he noticed the handcuffs waiting in one officer's hand.

Petunia let out a small, horrified gasp, and the sound seemed to shatter whatever confidence Vernon still had. His protests lost their force, his voice trailing off as the reality of the situation finally began to sink in. He stopped shouting and remained quiet, looking with growing horror and disbelief at the officers. 

"You can't just tear apart my house."

"We have a warrant, Mrs. Dursley."

"There is nothing here!"

The next hour passed in a haze of confusion and disbelief. The officers moved methodically through every room in the house, opening cupboards, searching drawers, and examining everything inside. The Dursleys could do little more than watch.

One of the officers had been examining the cupboard beneath the stairs when he paused.

"Hold on."

His partner looked over.

"What is it?"

The officer tapped the back wall and noticed it sounded hollow. After a closer inspection a few minutes later, they uncovered a concealed panel hidden behind it. As soon as it was opened, both officers froze at the sight of several tightly wrapped packages stacked inside the compartment.

The room fell silent as the hidden compartment yielded package after package. Vernon and Petunia had stunned expressions, and they could only stare at the contents being pulled from the wall. Dudley blinked in confusion, struggling to understand what was happening.

One of the officers carefully opened a package and examined its contents. His expression hardened almost instantly, and he looked toward one of his colleagues.

"Call backup."

Petunia's face drained of color.

"What is that?" she asked in a trembling voice.

No one answered her right away. Instead, the officer rose to his feet and faced the family.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I strongly advise you not to say anything further until you've spoken with a solicitor."

Vernon stared at the hidden compartment, then at the officers surrounding him. He looked back at the packages as though hoping they would magically disappear. When he finally spoke, his voice carried genuine panic.

"What is that doing there?"

Petunia looked as though she might faint.

"We've never seen that before," she said weakly.

The officers exchanged brief glances and sighed. That was such a familiar reaction, one they had heard countless times before from people confronted with incriminating evidence.

An hour later, another patrol arrived, bringing with it a police dog that began working its way through the house. The animal moved from room to room, sniffing along walls, furniture, and floorboards before finally alerting his handler while near a cabinet in the garage.

The dog alerted his handler again while in the living room, and they found more drugs beneath the floorboards and inside a storage space in the attic. Each discovery left the Dursleys more and more stunned.

By the end of the search, the officers could only stare at the steadily growing collection of evidence bags before shaking their heads.

"That's enough to put someone away for a very long time."

Vernon sank into a chair, his face pale as he stared at the officers moving through his house. Petunia had begun crying, clutching at a handkerchief with trembling hands, while Dudley stood frozen nearby, looking utterly lost and unable to make sense of what was happening around him. For once, none of them seemed angry or indignant. The usual outrage and bluster had vanished, replaced by a growing terror as they realized the situation was completely beyond their control. What frightened them most was that they genuinely could not understand how any of it had appeared inside their home.

Outside, the commotion had already begun attracting attention. Neighbors appeared at windows up and down Privet Drive, and curtains twitched as residents tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening at Number Four.

By the time Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were escorted outside by the police, a small crowd had gathered at a respectful distance along the pavement. Whispers followed them down the garden path as they passed.

The Dursleys had spent years cultivating the image of a respectable, successful family and had always taken pride in being seen as the model household of the neighborhood. Now that carefully maintained reputation was collapsing before everyone's eyes as they walked past their neighbors under police escort, watched by dozens of curious faces.

In a single day, they had gone from the most respectable family on the street to its greatest scandal.

And the neighbours of Privet Drive were enjoying every moment of it.

***

One day later, Vernon Dursley sat in an interrogation room looking as though he had aged several years in a single night. The confidence and arrogance that had once defined him had vanished, and even his outrage was beginning to fade. In their place remained only a weary exhaustion that seemed to weigh down every movement.

Across from him sat a consultant assigned to assist with the investigation. The man appeared to be in his forties, with dark hair, ordinary features, and an impeccably tailored suit. He calmly reviewed a stack of documents while Vernon glared at him from across the table.

"This is ridiculous."

The consultant hummed.

"You've said that several times."

"Because it is ridiculous."

The consultant turned another page.

"Hm."

Vernon leaned forward.

"I'm innocent."

"Hm."

"You people have made a mistake."

"Hm."

The repeated response was more infuriating than outright disagreement, and Vernon's face reddened. Since being taken to the police station, he had been questioned by several officers. Every interrogation followed the same pattern, he was asked the same questions each time, and each time, Vernon gave the same answers. He had no idea where the drugs had come from, and he certainly had no knowledge that Grunnings was being used to launder money for a massive drug operation spanning much of England.

The officers had bombarded him with questions, but this consultant simply sat there in silence, calmly reviewing documents. It was annoying to say the least. 

The consultant finally lifted his gaze, his brown eyes assessing Vernon for a moment before a smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that sent a chill down people's spine, and it made Vernon swallow and shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Mr. Dursley." The voice was smooth and pleasant. "Have you ever considered that unfortunate events occasionally happen to unpleasant people?"

Vernon stared at him.

"What?"

The consultant smiled wider.

"Just a thought." He returned to his paperwork. 

Several minutes later, Vernon was escorted away, and the consultant watched him leave. Alone in the room, for one moment, his dark hair turned red, and his brown eyes turned yellow. 

Crowley glanced at the door and sighed. "Sometimes people make this far too easy."

A flick of his fingers transformed his appearance back into that of Consultant Fall. After all, one had to maintain appearances.

***

Several days later, Albus Dumbledore arrived at Privet Drive.

The old wizard paused in front of Number Four and studied the house in silence and as he stood there, a familiar sense of regret settled over him. 

Since Harry's hearing, his thoughts had returned again and again to the same troubling questions. They were questions he should have asked years earlier, concerns he should have investigated himself instead of trusting others to handle them.

He lifted a hand and knocked on the door, but there was no response. After waiting a moment, he tried again, only to be met with the same silence. Dumbledore frowned. It was early on a Sunday morning, so surely at least one member of the household should have been home. He knocked a third time, yet still no one answered.

The neighboring door opened and a middle-aged woman stepped outside from her house. She took one look at the elderly man standing before Number Four and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh." She blinked. "You looking for the Dursleys?"

"Indeed."

The woman let out a short laugh.

"Bit late for that."

Dumbledore felt his stomach sink. This could not be good. 

"What happened?"

The woman's expression immediately brightened with the unmistakable look of someone eager to share the latest gossip.

"You haven't heard?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, the police came first thing in the morning last Wednesday. Half a dozen officers and they took the whole family away."

Dumbledore frowned.

"On what grounds?"

The woman looked astonished that anyone could be unaware.

"They said he was involved in drugs, money laundering, and tax fraud."

Dumbledore stared at her.

"Surely there must be some mistake."

"That's what everyone thought at first," she admitted. "But then the news got hold of it. Next thing we know they're saying Mr. Dursley was involved in some criminal operation."

She shook her head.

"Never would have guessed it."

The woman continued speaking, recounting every detail she knew and several she almost certainly did not.

By the time she finished, Dumbledore looked stunned. Drug trafficking, tax fraud, and involvement in organized crime were serious accusations, yet none of it sounded remotely believable to him. Even so, the woman clearly accepted every allegation as fact, and judging by the confidence with which she spoke, the rest of the neighborhood seemed to believe them as well.

"Terrible business," she concluded.

"Indeed."

Dumbledore thanked her and took his leave, walking slowly down the street as he considered everything she had told him. The news weighed heavily on his mind. If the accusations against the Dursleys were true, then he had entrusted Harry to people far worse than he had ever suspected, and the realization left him with a deep sense of unease and regret.

Hoping to find some answers and perhaps a clearer understanding of what had happened over the years, he made his way toward another familiar house nearby. A few moments later, Arabella Figg answered the door when he knocked.

"Albus."

"Arabella."

The old squib welcomed him into her home and, after making tea for them both, settled into a chair. They spent several minutes exchanging pleasantries before Dumbledore finally turned to the questions that had been weighing on his mind for days.

"Did you ever notice anything unusual?"

Arabella tilted her head.

"About what?"

"Harry."

She looked even more confused, and Dumbledore's stomach tightened.

"The way he was treated by his relatives."

She frowned.

"What way?"

The tightening became worse.

"The neglect."

Arabella looked genuinely surprised.

"The neglect?"

Dumbledore stared at her in disbelief. 

"Arabella." His voice was quiet. "Did you ever see signs that Harry was being mistreated?"

The old woman thought for several moments.

"Not really."

Something inside him sank.

"Not really?"

"He was always a quiet boy." She shrugged. "A bit lonely, perhaps. The Dursleys weren't particularly affectionate."

Dumbledore just stared at her.

"They never liked magic much either, but we already knew that." She said.  "I can't say I ever saw anything that made me think they were hurting him."

Dumbledore sat there in silence. The woman he had trusted to watch over Harry Potter for twelve years had failed to notice anything important. The revelation was worse than deliberate betrayal because there was nobody to blame except himself. He had chosen her and trusted her judgement, and Harry had paid the price. When Dumbledore finally left her house, the weight upon his shoulders felt heavier than ever.

The old wizard walked through the streets of Little Whinging feeling every one of his years. He felt exhausted and so very alone.

For the first time in many years, he found himself questioning whether he was still the right man to carry all the responsibilities he had accumulated over the decades. He was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Headmaster of Hogwarts, political advisor, leader of the Light political bloc, and, whether he liked it or not, a figure upon whom much of the magical world relied.

For years he had convinced himself that these burdens rested on his shoulders because there was no one else capable of bearing them. It had seemed a necessary sacrifice, one he had accepted without complaint.

Now, however, he was no longer certain that belief had ever been entirely true.

As he reflected on recent events, he could not escape the growing weight of his mistakes. Too many decisions made with good intentions had led to suffering. Too many times he had trusted his own judgment without questioning it closely enough. Too many people had paid the price for errors he should have foreseen.

By the time Harry's trial had concluded, even before the frankly humiliating but well-deserved verbal beating delivered by Harry's solicitor, Dumbledore had already reached his decision.

Within a week, Albus Dumbledore formally resigned as Chief Warlock and a few days later, he also stepped down as Supreme Mugwump.

The announcements sent shockwaves through magical world. Many assumed political pressure had finally forced his hand, while others blamed the growing scandals that had surrounded him in recent days.

The truth was far simpler. 

For the first time in decades, Albus Dumbledore had taken an honest look at his own failures and recognized that wisdom did not mean clinging to authority forever. Having seen the consequences of his mistakes more clearly than ever before, he no longer trusted himself to wield quite so much power.

***

Author's Note:

A small clarification regarding this chapter.

First, Crowley's actions against the Dursleys were entirely his own. Harry has no knowledge of what is happening to them and played no role in their downfall. This is simply Crowley acting according to his own sense of justice, as well as a reflection of how fond he has become of Harry over time.

As for the Dursleys themselves, this effectively marks their exit from the story. Vernon and Petunia will spend several years in prison, while Dudley will be sent to a military correctional school before eventually being placed under the care of either Aunt Marge or his grandparents. Whether he grows into a better person or repeats the mistakes of his parents is a question for the future.

Second, Dumbledore stepping down from politics should not be mistaken for Dumbledore losing his influence or importance.

He remains Headmaster of Hogwarts and is still one of the most powerful and respected wizards in the world. What he has given up are his political positions and the enormous administrative burden that came with them.

Before his resignation, Dumbledore was simultaneously running Hogwarts, serving as Chief Warlock, acting as Supreme Mugwump, advising politicians and governments, managing countless projects, and fighting a secret war against Voldemort.

In other words, the man was effectively trying to do the work of several people at once.

Now, instead of spending countless hours every day buried under paperwork, meetings, and political responsibilities, he can devote his attention to Hogwarts, the Horcrux investigation, and preparing for Voldemort's eventual return.

His political power has diminished, but his available time and focus have increased dramatically.

If anything, a Dumbledore with free time may be more dangerous than a Dumbledore trying to run half the magical world from behind the scenes.