Mr. and Mrs. Dursley - no, not the Mr. and Mrs. Dursley on number four, Privet Drive - were certain their family was abnormal. Mrs. Dursley took pride in this, but Mr. Dursley was quite adamant in his boastings of being the most normal people on the ever-so-busy Baker Street. If you asked him, there was nothing that unusual about their humble family.

The Dursleys lived in a small flat in London with their five children. They all had good, no-nonsense names: Oliver, Jack, Emily, Hannah, and Adam. It was very unusual for a family to have that many children, but Mrs. Dursley had wanted a large family, and Mr. Dursley did not question his wife too often.

Mr. Dursley worked at Pendragon Enterprises, which was the most prestigious company in all of Great Britain and perhaps the world. Though he was never too great at maths, Mr. Dursley was able to climb to the position of finance director with ease. He was a large, muscular man with a fine mustache and a Greek nose; not quite handsome, but not hideous either. His wife, however, was a small, frail woman with a Pug nose. She always kept her hair up in a neat and tidy way that reflected their house. Mrs. Dursley was a stay-at-home mother and kept care of the children all day, every day. This turned out to be an efficient system, for Mr. Dursley worked all day, every day in the office.

While the Dursleys were unusual, what Mr. Dursley often said was true; they were the most normal people on the street. They lived next door to the Thompsons, who were one of those couples with two adopted kids that Mr. Dursley would never let any of his own play with. He wouldn't want them to catch it now would he? Across the street lived the Vargas family. The Vargeses were relatively normal people, except that they were illegal immigrants. Mr. Dursley had half a mind to report them - which he had, on several occasions, but nothing had come from any of them - and of course, the Dursleys couldn't associate themselves with those who were on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak.

But the most unusual people on the street were the people Mr. and Mrs. Dursley had to talk to, even if they didn't want to. They were the Potters, and Mr. Dursley avoided them as much as possible. Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley were cousins and had grown up together, but that didn't mean they liked each other. The two men had an agreement to where their families would have dinner together once a month, and that they would attend birthday parties. Christmas cards were also included in the agreement, even though the Potters weren't Christian at all.

Even to the rest of the people on Baker Street, the Potters were unusual, but they didn't even know the whole story. Mr. Dursley knew, be he wouldn't dare tell anyone, not even his wife. The embarrassment would be too great for him to handle; so he kept that secret bottled up deep inside of him.

Our story starts when Mr. Dursley was rudely awoken one July morning to the taping sound of the downstairs window being rattled. He got out of bed in a hurry and went to investigate the sound. Mr. Dursley did not think that the window had been open the night before, but he supposed his wife could have opened it before she went to upstairs and just forgot to close it. Bypassing his usual cuppa and heading straight for the window, Mr. Dursley was annoyed to see a bird pecking at the once spotless window. It was now riddled with scratches, and Mr. Dursley knew it would be expensive to fix it.

He managed to twist open the window and shoo the bird away before Mrs. Dursley had even set foot downstairs. She wouldn't have to know what had woken them up after all. That would put her in a better mood, he supposed.

Opening the front door, Mr. Dursley grabbed the morning paper and sat down at the kitchen table to read. Just then, speak of the devil, his wife appeared with a smile on her face.

Mrs. Dursley started fixing breakfast for the entire family, which was a daunting task that everyone knew not interrupt her when she was performing it. Everyone except, apparently, Oliver, their oldest child. The boy came into the kitchen wailing and clutching a blanket in his hand. Immediately, Mrs. Dursley stopped and asked him what was wrong.

"I had a nightmare, Mummy," Oliver said, sniffling as he spoke.

Lowering herself so she was eyelevel with her son, Mrs. Dursley looked at him and gave him a large hug. "Come on, tell Mummy all about it while she cooks." Oliver nodded, and sat down at the table next to his father.

Mr. Dursley peered over the top of his paper. "Go on, then, Ollie."

"Mmm." He nodded "Well, I dreamt I was in a spaceship. And it looked just like Cap'in Kirk's ship, 'cept I was the captain -"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"- and it was bloody amazing!"

"Ollie, don't curse."

"Right, and -"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"- flying through space, but then we were attacked by a Klingon war bird, and Commander Spock was all -"

Tap. Tap. Tap

"Confound it!" Mr. Dursley slammed his fists on the table, startling Mrs. Dursley and Oliver.

"Dudley, what is it?"

"It's that damn bird!" He stood up from his chair and marched over to the window once more.

"Bird?"

Mr. Dursley opened the window again, but this time, the owl flew inside. The first thing Mr. Dursley did was grab a broom and start thwacking at the thing. Mrs. Dursley let out a shrill scream as he continued his failed efforts to hit the bird.

"Dudley!" Mrs. Dursley shrieked, and then proceeded toward him.

"No, stay back! This thing is dangerous!"

Mrs. Dursley, however, did not listen to him, and grabbed the broom out of her husband's hands. She hit him upside the head quite hard.

"First of all, don't use my good broom. Secondly," she paused looking at the bird. "Oh, great." It landed on the windowsill, and Mrs. Dursley made her way toward it. Mr. Dursley was quicker, and snatched the letter attached to the owl's foot. Taking one look at it, he dropped the envelope on the floor.

"No…" Mr. Dursley had seen owls delivering letters before, but that hadn't been since… it couldn't be!

It was addressed in curled scrawl to Mrs. Pansy Dursley.

"Y-you're one of them!" He pointed an accusing finger at his wife.

"Hmm?" Mrs. Dursley asked as she reached for the dropped letter. Opening it, she was allowed enough time to read it twice over before Mr. Dursley reacted.

"How… how could you keep this from me?" His face was becoming red now.

"Oh, it just never came up," Mrs. Dursley had a scowl on her face, and her voice had a hint of a threat to it.

Mr. Dursley pointedly ignored the tone in her voice. "Listen here!" he shouted, puffing up his chest. "You and your kind are -"

"Yes, freaks of nature. And you were unlucky enough to marry one," she replied curtly and pocketed the letter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got urgent business to attend to."

The doorbell rang at that moment. She made a motion to attend to it, but Mr. Dursley stopped her.

"You aren't going anywhere, you witch." He swaggered over to the door, rage pumping through his veins. It was going to take a lot not to punch whomever it was at the door in the face.

As he twisted the knob, he could hear Oliver whisper in the background "Mummy… why's Daddy so angry?" and Mr. Dursley cursed himself for yelling in front of their son.

His anger immediately dissipated when he saw his boss standing in front of him. Mr. Dursley's face turned pale, and he started shaking.

"Good morning, Mister Malfoy!"

"Good morning, Dursley. I need to have a word with -"

"Now isn't a good time, sir. I'm sorry, but we're just waking up now and I'm not even dressed." Chuckling, Mr. Dursley was amazed at how well he could lie through his teeth under pressure.

But Mister Malfoy just pressed his way past Mr. Dursley and into the house. "Ah, good to see you, Mrs. Dursley." He nodded at her politely.

Mrs. Dursley, however, was not amused to see him. She looked downright ticked off and held Oliver close to her to calm herself down. "What is it you want, Draco?" She said, venom clear in her voice.

Mister Malfoy smiled sadly. "I'm not here for pleasure, as you know." He looked between her, the child, and Mr. Dursley. She seemed to have gotten the clue.

"Honey," Mrs. Dursley told Oliver. "Go upstairs and go play with your brothers and sisters." The boy nodded fervently and scampered off. Then she turned to her husband. "Dudley, go make some tea."

Looking much like a red balloon, Mr. Dursley stomped his foot down. "No! Not until you tell me this instant just what is going on!"

Mrs. Dursley gave him a look that told him to do as she said, and he revaluated the situation. He was alone in a room with one, perhaps two witches that could blow him to smithereens. Quickly, he gave up on his pursuit and left for the kitchen to do as his wife told him to.

This left Mrs. Dursley and Mister Malfoy alone.

"Shall we sit?" Mister Malfoy motioned to the chairs in the living room behind Mrs. Dursley. She looked miffed, but nodded her head in agreement.

The chairs were uncomfortable, but that was more to due with the atmosphere than the seats themselves. In almost no time, Mr. Dursley appeared with two cups of tea and gave one to each, then ran off upstairs to be with the children. Mister Malfoy smirked at his actions.

"What?" Mrs. Dursley barked.

"There is urgent news that must be discussed."

"I gathered as much." Pansy took a sip from her teacup, not once looking away from him.

"Since you don't read the Daily Prophet," Draco said, reaching into his coat pocket. "I thought I'd bring one to you." He threw it down on the table in front of her.

It read:

"9 Muggleborns and 6 Half-bloods dead at the Quidditch World Cup. Suspects are in custody, but Aurors say they have no real idea who actually committed the horrendous crimes. Some are saying former Death Eaters have returned while others accredit the murders to a growing cult known as the Pureblood Brotherhood. The Brotherhood, as some of you may know has-"

Pansy stopped reading and gave Draco an inquiring look. "What does this have to do with me, Draco? I'm a Pureblood. Unless… are you honestly suggesting I join with these murderers? Because if you are, so help me God, I -"

"Calm down!" Draco put his hands up in the air. "I'm not suggesting anything. I only came to warn you that you and your entire family might be in grave danger."

Scoffing, she shook her head. "No. I'm not having anything to do with this Pureblood business. I left the wizarding world behind and married a Muggle for a reason. And besides, all of my children are Squibs."

A sad look crossed Draco's face. "Daphne Greengrass thought she was safe, too. But she married a Muggle; something a lot of people see as treason. Now she and her husband are dead, and their kid's at St. Mungo's, just struggling to survive."

Hearing that horrified her. "I'm so sorry… You married her sister, right?" He nodded slowly. "So, what would you have me do? Go into hiding?"

"That's perhaps the safest thing to do."

"Where do you expect me to go? I can't go to Hogwarts and leave my family behind!"

"That's where you're wrong," Draco said. "You can go to Hogwarts, and you can bring your entire family."

"You know as well as I do that Muggles and Squibs can't see Hogwarts, Draco. Don't try to kid me."

"Wrong again. When Granger… er, Weasley, and McGonagall rebuilt the castle, they made it so Muggles can see it if they know it's there."

Sighing, Pansy threw her head back. "Draco, you're throwing this all at me way to fast! I can't comprehend it."

"I know. Everything's been happening suddenly, and no one's prepared for anything.

"However, there is another pressing issue."

Looking up, Pansy was startled. Something else?

"I don't have time to explain this; we must be off." Draco stood up and stared, as if waiting for her to follow. "Coming?"

She was dumbfounded. "You honestly expect me to leave behind my family after just telling me that?"

"Yes, well, we've already wasted enough time here. I hadn't expected that you never told your husband about our kind."

With every bit of effort she had, Pansy tried not to hit him. He was so infuriating! But, she owed him for telling her of the risks out there.

"Fine, I will go with you, but not without making certain they're all safe."

"Already taken care of. A couple Aurors are coming over to escort them to a safe house."

"Aurors?" Pansy said. "How'd you manage that?"

"Let's just say," Draco began, "That the head of the Auror office has a special interest in your family."

Pansy scowled. "Don't tell me the Potter brat made it to Head Auror." He ignored her.

"Well, let's get moving, shall we?" Draco held out his arm to her, which she grabbed harshly, and then they disappeared.

The two of them reappeared somewhere completely different. They were now in a hospital of some sorts, one that was not too far away from where they had been before, but not too close either.

Immediately, Draco and Pansy were greeted to a distraught-looking woman with bushy brown hair. "What took you so long?" she asked with worry clear in her voice.

"Someone didn't tell their spouse about their magic," Draco looked at Pansy, who flushed red with wrath.

"Never mind," the bushy-haired woman said. "Just, come on, you two." She led started walking off, and Draco knew that if they didn't follow her closely, they'd get lost in the maze of the infirmary. She led them through hall after hall, and even up a few sets of stairs, before they reached the paediatrics ward.

"You're here!" said a tall man with red hair. He walked quickly toward the bushy-haired woman and gave her a large hug.

"Ron, I was just here," she said, obviously amused.

"I know, Hermione, but it felt like ages ago."

Pansy coughed. "Excuse me," she sneered. "I believe I was just pulled away from my husband and children for a reason. Or did you just want me here to watch you two snog all day?"

"Right," they said at the same time and separated.

"So, just what is going on?" Pansy asked.

"It's… complicated," Hermione began, trailing off nervously.

"Try me."

"Albus is sick." Pansy looked at the other woman like she had grown a second head.

"Dumbledore is dead, Weasley."

"No, not that Albus. Harry's son."

Scoffing, Pansy turned around and started to leave. "I don't have time to worry about that brat's brat."

"Wait," Draco said, catching her wrist and effectively stopping her. "You haven't heard the entire story." He pointed for them to all sit down in a set of chairs. Ron and Hermione made the move to do so immediately. However, for Pansy, it took some coercion.

Eventually, though, they were all seated right across from one another, with Pansy and Draco on one side, and Ron and Hermione on the other.

"Albus is sick," Hermione repeated. "But it isn't with a normal sickness."

"Oh?" Pansy drawled. She was quite bored, and more than a little angered at Draco dragging her out of the house for something that seemed so simple.

"It's something deadly," Ron continued, looking over his shoulder as he spoke. "I dunno what it's called, but it's a nasty disease."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to interject, probably with the name of the sickness, but Pansy spoke first. "And I should care why? So what if this boy dies? It's not like he's important or anything." Ron and Hermione looked quite angry at her words. Even Draco, who was normally quite calm and collected, held a spark of a fire in his eyes.

"But he is important," Hermione said. "And not just to us, but the entire world."

This was ridiculous. Pansy promptly stood up from her seat. "Alright, that's it! I don't want anymore of this "let's change the fate of the world crap". I left that behind long ago when You-Know-Who fell."

Before she could start walking away, however, Draco started speaking. "You don't have a choice, Pansy. We need you."

She stopped for a brief moment and laughed. "Right. You need me. That's hilarious, Draco. Where do you come up with your material?"

"He's not joking." From behind Ron came another voice.

"Potter," Pansy seethed. "Of course it has to be you that started this."

"Pansy," Draco said sternly. "Sit down." Seeing that her efforts to escape were futile, Pansy sat down in her seat. Right next to Ron, Harry Potter sat down.

"Pansy," Harry said, speaking as calmly as he could. "Look, I know we've had our differences. But right now, my son is sick, and you're the best damn healer out there."

"Oh, so you just want me for my magic, I see." Pansy huffed and almost pouted like a child. "But, honestly, why should I care? You said the kid's important, but you haven't explained why."

"Yes," said Hermione. "We were getting to that.

"You know, of course, the tales of King Arthur?"

"Yes, I do. But what does that Muggle faerietale have to do with the matter at hand?"

"It's more than just a faerietale. It really happened. King Arthur was just as real as the founders were - as his companion, Merlin, was."

She wasn't taking Hermione seriously. "Right. Let's just say for a moment that you aren't crazy. Again, I ask, what does this have to do with the matter at hand?"

Hermione sighed. "King Arthur never died, as the stories say. He just… well, we don't know what happened to him. But we do know what happened to Merlin.

He was captured and imprisoned in a tree by the Lady -"

"Yes, yes, the Lady of the Lake. I know that bit."

"But, what you may not know is that the location of this tree is known, and has been known by the Ministry of Magic for centuries."

"Then where prey tell, is this tree?" Pansy asked incredulously.

Hermione shook her head. "Even I don't know. That is privileged information that only the Minister of Magic should know."

"Quite obviously, someone else knows, or else we wouldn't be there."

"Right. There are two other people who know: Harry, and someone else."

"And the Golden Child knows this because…?"

"Because," Harry said, speaking up for only the second time. "Albus, my son, is the reincarnation of Merlin."

This caused Pansy to let out a bark of laughter. "This is all too rich! I swear, I almost believed you for a moment, but that was just too much!"

"Why would I joke about something like that?" Harry asked. "Especially to someone like you."

"I don't know. You probably have a twisted sense of humour after fighting You-Know-Who for so long."

Harry's face turned dark. "After I defeated Voldemort," Pansy shuddered at the name, "I lost my sense of humour. Nothing is very funny after you've seen the faces of loved ones dying." She had nothing to say back to him then.

"As I was saying," Hermione said, trying to get rid of the queer feeling in the air. "Harry knows this as well as someone else. We don't know who this person is, but we know they are very dangerous.

"When Shacklebolt found out someone else knew, he decided to take action quickly, and found a body to house Merlin's soul. That body would be Albus's."

"And the boy's soul? Where did that go?" No one responded. "Let me get this straight, then: You want me to heal Potter's son because he is the reincarnation of Merlin and you need him to save the world from some unknown evil." They all nodded at her. "You're all insane!"

"Will you do it, though?" Harry asked. Pansy sighed, and threw up her arms.

"What the hell. I might as well. Not like it would hurt anyone, and who knows: I might actually make it home before Dudley decides he wants a divorce."

They stood up, and Harry took the lead. Into a private room they went, where a red-haired woman sat holding a small child, with another one's head in her lap.

"Ginny," Harry said, but he didn't walk straight for her. He walked instead to the small cradle where lay an even smaller child. His whole bode was a pale green, and he wasn't moving much. With much care, Harry smoothed his thumb over the baby's cheek. "Everything's going to be okay."

Coming to his side, Pansy took one look at the child and whipped her head away. "He has Carpasinus? Why didn't you say so!" The first thing she did was push Harry away, and then cradled her hands around the child's head.

"This is going to be a while," she said, before turning all her attention to the boy.

The other people vacated the room so as to give the witch space. For hours, Harry sat there, with his oldest son, James, constantly asking where his little brother was.

"He's sick, Jamie," his wife Ginny told their son. "And right now, Auntie Pansy is healing him."

James scrunched up his nose. "I don't like Auntie Pansy! But if she's making Albie better, then I guess she's alright."

Harry almost smiled at the childish folly. If only things were that simple. Right now, he couldn't afford to dislike Pansy, no matter how much he wanted to. The fate of his son, and the fate of the world, was in her hands.

When the clock struck 12:01, Pansy came out of the small room. She looked absolutely exhausted, but pleased.

Standing up almost immediately, Harry rushed over to her. "How is he?" he asked with a sombre tone.

"Relax, Potter," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your kid's going to be just fine." Then Harry did the unthinkable: he hugged her. Not just a half-hearted hug, either, but a full-on embrace. Pansy was horrified, but then he let go and went into the room, and she thought little of it. Though five others had seen it, she knew she could threaten them into silence.

The rest of the little "gang" followed Harry, none of them paying mind to Pansy, who simply walked out the door.

Harry was holding a crying Albus when Ron, Hermione, Ginny, James, and Draco walked through the door. Harry himself was crying, and bouncing the baby up and down to calm him down.

"Look," he said joyfully. "He's okay. Albus is okay."

His boy was more than just okay. The green tint his skin had was gone, and replaced with a healthy pink glow. He was even moving his arms and legs about very lively.

Ginny, too, began to cry, and held out her arms to the boy. Harry took Albus in one arm, and Ginny in the other. James came an placed his arms around Harry's legs, shouting "Group hug!" and demanding that the others join in.

Hermione, who had her and Ron's daughter, Rose, in her arms, hesitantly joined. Following brightly, Ron stretched his long arms around them all.

Draco was notably absent.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy," Ron jested. "I know that you have that stick up your arse, but can't you just share in this happy moment?" Draco was about to protest, but then little James came along and grabbed his hand. The naïve boy dragged the man to the group, who welcomed him with open arms.

All in all, it was a wondrous moment.