piratefiction Chapter 328 Generous Chapter Report
Chapter 328 Generous Chapter Report
Chapter 328 A Generous Reward (5.2K) (1/2)
Vernon Dursley stared, mouth agape, the red of anger fading from his face in a rapid burst of color, replaced by a mixture of shock, suspicion, and a growing, instinctive fear of the understated yet immense power in Lynch's words.
He glanced at Lynch's serious face, then subconsciously looked at his wife, Penny, who had opened her eyes and was looking at him with an almost desperate expression. She slowly and almost imperceptibly shook her head.
Vernon made a strange, choked sound in his throat.
All the arrogance, all the bluster based on a complete lack of knowledge about the "weirdo's" power, deflated like a punctured balloon in the face of this seemingly casual yet profound statement that pointed directly to the core of power he could understand.
The rest of his words stuck in his throat. In the end, he could only let out a heavy groan with a livid face, and then fell silent, but his chest was still heaving violently, showing that his anger and shock had not subsided.
After Vernon was rendered speechless by the suggestion of "meeting with the Prime Minister," and could only gasp for breath with a flushed face, a tense and eerie silence fell over the living room.
Lynch seemed oblivious to the suffocating atmosphere, or rather, he was completely in control of it.
He acted as if he were the true master of the house, his gaze sweeping over the sofa in the living room, and made a simple gesture.
"Sit down and let's talk." His tone was gentle, but to the people standing in the living room, it sounded more like an order than an invitation.
He then sat down first on the single sofa closest to Harry and Sirius, his posture composed.
Sirius frowned, seemingly unaccustomed to the suggestion of "sitting down and talking," especially in this house he so vehemently disliked.
But Harry gently tugged at him and whispered, "Sirius—" with a pleading look in his eyes.
Sirius glanced at Lynch's calm profile, snorted, but still maintained a protective posture as he sat down on the sofa with Harry, their positions perfectly separating them from the Dursleys.
The Dursleys seemed somewhat bewildered.
Vernon stared, seemingly wanting to protest, "This is my house!", but Penny tugged at his pajama sleeve again, her eyes filled with anxious pleading.
Finally, Vernon reluctantly and heavily slumped into the largest sofa opposite him, causing the springs to groan. Penny sat down next to him, stiff, while Dudley squeezed to the other side, curiously and uneasily glancing at these "strange people."
Once everyone had finally settled down, Lynch's gaze returned to Vernon Dursley, as if the brief confrontation had never occurred.
He spoke, his voice returning to its previous calm, businesslike tone: "Mr. Dursley, I remember you're a businessman, aren't you?"
Vernon, his neck stiff, was reluctant to answer the "weirdo's" questions, especially since the man had just threatened—in his view, threatened—to embarrass him in front of the Prime Minister.
But Penny pinched his thigh hard again under the sofa armrest.
Vernon winced in pain, glaring angrily at his wife. Meeting her anxious gaze, he reluctantly spoke, his voice still tinged with lingering arrogance: "So what if I am? I'm a manager at Groning Company!" He emphasized the word "manager," his chest puffing out unconsciously. "We manufacture drilling rigs, the best drilling rigs!"
"Growing Corporation, drilling rig business." Lynch nodded to indicate understanding, then continued in his usual calm and unremarkable manner.
The question was asked in a tone as if conducting market research, "So, would you mind telling me approximately how much you earn in a year?"
Upon hearing this, Vernon's spirits immediately lifted, and the frustration and apprehension he had felt earlier seemed to be somewhat diluted by a familiar sense of pride in his own "success."
He raised his chin higher, his voice regaining its usual booming tone: "Well—for a manager of my level, the annual salary is certainly not small." He paused, making sure he had everyone's attention, especially Lynch in the expensive suit, "Thirty thousand pounds a year!"
When he announced the number, he deliberately slowed his speech, making each syllable clear and forceful, his face revealing a mixture of pride and smugness, as if the number were a shining medal, enough to prove his value and status in this "normal" world.
He even unconsciously placed his hands on the back of the sofa, adopting a more relaxed posture.
Beside him, a brief but clear look of smugness flickered across Penny Dursley's usually taut and pale face as her husband boasted.
Her thin chin lifted slightly, in a proud and self-satisfied manner that was characteristic of Mrs. Dursley.
This number, this house, Vernon's position—these are the cornerstones of the "decent life" she has carefully cultivated and maintained over the years, and proof that she has distanced herself from that magical world full of unknown dangers.
Lynch took in Vernon's boasting and Penny's subtle changes in expression, but his face remained completely expressionless.
He nodded again, as if merely noting down a neutral statistic. He paused briefly, tapping his knee lightly with his fingertip, as if performing rapid mental arithmetic, then raised his eyes, his gaze calmly locking onto Vernon's small eyes, still tinged with smugness.
"Since you are a businessman, Mr. Dursley," Lynch's voice was clear and steady, with a decisiveness that steered the conversation back on track, "then let's talk about this matter in a businessman's way for now."
He adjusted his posture slightly, leaning forward a little: "First, we need to clarify a basic fact, which may help you understand your current situation."
Lynch's voice wasn't loud, but each word was clear and unquestionable: "The wizard—that is, the strange man you speak of"—
Our existence is no secret at the highest levels of Downing Street and Buckingham Palace. Our lives and activities on this land are officially permitted, even within framework agreements. This is an established fact and will not be changed or shaken by your or any individual's aversion, fear, or—proposal for expulsion.
Lynch's gaze lingered briefly on the Dursleys' faces, confirming that they had heard his statement about the "established facts"—Vernon's smugness subsided slightly, replaced by suspicion and wariness; Penny, on the other hand, became even more uneasy, her fingers tightening around her dressing gown sash.
Then, he changed the subject, his tone as if he were proposing a new profit growth point at a board meeting: "But as a successful businessman, Mr. Dursley, you might try to turn this fact that you cannot change, or even deeply trouble you, into your own profit."
"Profits?" Vernon blurted out, his small eyes filled with confusion that completely overshadowed his earlier pride.
He couldn't understand what "benefits" these strange people could bring besides endless trouble and fear. Penny also suddenly looked up, her thin face filled with confusion and deeper unease. She instinctively felt that behind these "benefits" there was something she was even less willing to face.
“Yes, benefits,” Lynch affirmed, his fingers lightly crossed on his knees, relaxed yet full of control. “Let’s look at it from the most practical perspective. As far as I know, you took in Harry Potter, who was just a baby at the time, into this family in October 1981 and have been responsible for his upbringing ever since.”
He paused, letting the time span carry more weight in the silence.
"For the past ten years or so, you have provided him with shelter, food, clothing, and—basic education," Lynch listed calmly. "Considering the average cost of raising a child for the British middle class today, and factors such as inflation, this is a considerable and ongoing expense. I believe it is by no means insignificant for any family budget."
These words precisely struck at the Dursleys' deepest, most self-righteous, and most frequently pondered sense of "sacrifice."
Vernon's chest immediately puffed out again, and a familiar, long-suppressed resentment surged up. Almost instinctively, he was about to roar at Harry, just like he had done a thousand times before, saying things like "ungrateful wretch who wastes food" and "money-loser who squanders our hard-earned money."
However, his gaze unconsciously swept over Lin Qi first.
The other person's dark, calm eyes were looking at him, showing no intention to stop him, only a pure calmness.
The vicious words that Vernon was about to utter seemed to hit an invisible wall, swirling around in his throat before finally spitting out a complaint that, while still full of resentment, was infinitely more "civilized": "Hmph! Of course it cost a lot!"
Raising a child who has no sense of gratitude —
He originally wanted to say "ungrateful little beast," but the words stuck in his throat, and he changed them to: "...ungrateful brat!"
Penny nodded vigorously beside her, her lips pressed tightly together, as if the "hardships" of the past ten years had turned into the deep wrinkles on her face and the grievances in her eyes.
Upon hearing this, Harry, sitting opposite him, instantly flushed with anger.
He opened his mouth to argue, wanting to say that he had been doing housework since he could remember, wanting to say that all he ever received was the necessities for survival and the most basic tolerance, wanting to say that the Dursleys had never given him a single ounce of warmth that belonged to a "family"—those days locked under the stairs, those mocking moments with Dudley's old clothes, those "family activities" where he was always excluded—
Sirius Black reacted even more strongly than Harry.
Upon hearing Vernon's resentful complaint, a terrifying rage instantly erupted in his gray eyes, and his body tensed, about to spring up from the sofa. Just before Lynch arrived, he had been thoroughly enraged by this very attitude.
He could already picture himself pulling out his wand and teaching that damned Muggle Vernon Dursley a lesson.
But Lynch seemed to have anticipated his reaction.
Just as Sirius's angry expression appeared on his face and he was about to strain to stand up, Lin Qi's right index finger, which was resting on his knee, pointed very slightly, almost imperceptibly, in his direction.
There was no incantation, no light, and not even a slight movement of air.
Sirius felt a sudden stiffness grip his entire body, as if an invisible ice shell had sealed him from the inside out.
All the power he had been building up, the roar that was rising in his throat, was frozen in place.
He could only stare wide-eyed, his body uncontrollably slumping heavily back into the sofa cushions with a muffled thud. Apart from his eyes, which could still move to express astonishment and lingering anger, he couldn't even move a single finger.
Harry was startled by the commotion beside him. He turned to see his godfather, his face ashen, leaning stiffly against the sofa, his lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing. Harry assumed Sirius was using all his willpower to restrain himself, lest the situation spiral further out of control. A pang of bitterness and resentment towards the Dursleys rose in his heart.
He gently touched Sirius's arm and whispered, "Sirius, don't pay attention to what they're saying—"
Lynch seemed completely oblivious to the brief commotion to his side; his attention remained fixed on the Dursleys.
Instead of refuting Vernon's complaint, he nodded slightly in agreement.
“You’re right, Mr. Dursley. Raising a child does require a huge and continuous financial and emotional investment.” Lynch’s voice even carried a hint of understanding, which surprised Vernon and Penny, causing them to relax their guard slightly. “So, as a businessman focused on practical interests, when faced with such an involuntary investment that lasts for more than a decade and may continue into the future,” have you considered that perhaps there should be a corresponding—return—or compensation mechanism?
He leaned forward slightly, calmly looking into Vernon's eyes, and offered his real proposal: "Let's talk about the costs of raising Harry Potter at 4 Privet Drive over the years," and perhaps a solution that would be more satisfactory to both of us.
"What—what do you mean?" Vernon Dursley's voice was dry, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.
His small eyes no longer only flashed with vigilance and disgust, but also mixed with a trace of instinctive greed belonging to a businessman that he himself was not clearly aware of—a conditioned reflex to the word "profit".
Penny held her breath, forgot to twist her fingers, and stared intently at Lynch.
Lynch's voice remained calm as he stated a figure: "I believe that paying you £10,000 a year as compensation for Harry's residence here, the resources he consumes, and the efforts and care you provide would be a reasonable solution."
"Ten thousand pounds? Every year?!" Vernon gasped, his voice trembling.
Penny suddenly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide open, as if she had heard not a number, but a thunderclap.
£10,000!
That's almost a third of Vernon Dursley's annual salary!
And you don't have to do anything more, just—just continue to tolerate that kid's existence?
Before they could even process the immense shock of that number, before they could even conjure up the right expression on their faces—a mixture of elation, doubt, greed, and wariness making their facial muscles appear somewhat comically stiff—Lynch's steady, accountant-like voice continued: "Harry arrived here at the end of October 1981, when he was about one year old. According to our laws and customs, he was required to reside here until he turned seventeen. That means, from then until July 1998, there were approximately—" He paused slightly, as if doing mental calculations, "about four years. Adding the twelve years that have already passed, the total period of care is sixteen years."
His gaze swept over the Dursleys' completely stunned faces.
"At £10,000 per year, that's £160,000 over sixteen years," Lynch stated clearly, then added, "Of course, compensation for past years can be settled in a lump sum. Compensation for the next few years will be paid annually."
£160,000.
This number was like a huge, solid gold brick that slammed down on the Dursleys' heads, leaving them dizzy and disoriented. In that instant, all their thoughts, all their emotions, all their fear and disgust for the "freak" became blank and distant.
Vernon's facial muscles twitched; he wanted to laugh, yet felt he shouldn't; he wanted to express doubt, yet feared this astonishing suggestion would vanish in the next second.
Penny's hand, covering her mouth, trembled slightly, her knuckles turning white. Her mind was buzzing, and only one thought was swirling within her:
Sixteen thousand — Dali's new car, a complete renovation of the kitchen, and even the possibility of moving to a bigger house — those "respectable" upgrades that she had carefully planned but always felt were far away were suddenly within reach.
The living room was eerily quiet, with only the Dursleys' heavy, uneven breathing.
Harry was stunned. He stared blankly at Lynch's straight back, then at his aunt and uncle, who looked as if they had been hit by a huge pie and were in a daze. A complex emotion welled up in his heart that he couldn't explain. So his existence over the past ten years could be put on a price tag like this, and ultimately reduced to such a naked number.
He felt a wave of nausea and instinctively avoided the Dursleys' eyes, which were beginning to gleam.
Lynch took in the Dursleys' reactions clearly: their shock, ecstasy, greed, disbelief, and the desire for the enormous sum of money that quickly began to overwhelm all other emotions.
His face was expressionless, except for a very slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, which could perhaps be described as a fleeting, emotionless smile.
"It seems," Lynch's voice broke the silence, pulling the Dursleys back to reality from their golden daze, "that you have little objection to the basic framework of this proposal."
Vernon jolted awake, seemingly finally finding his voice, but it trembled with excitement: "You—you're serious? Sixteen thousand? Really for us?"
He even forgot to use more polite words like "pay" or "compensate," and simply used "give."
Penny also lowered her hand from her mouth, her face regaining color, and her eyes locked onto Lin Qi urgently, as if afraid he would change his mind.
"Business is business, Mr. Dursley. I represent Harry's stakeholder side, and naturally, I'm proposing a serious solution." Lynch's tone remained businesslike. "However, any agreement needs clear terms to protect the rights of both parties. Since you accept this compensation proposal in principle, then we need to discuss the specific details, and—some basic obligations you need to fulfill."
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