Harry stood there, breathing deeply, hand frozen just inches away from the door. Come on, you idiot, he said, just knock.

And he did.

It was a pleasant, solid knock, and he heard a voice yell from somewhere deep inside the house for someone to answer it. There was a quick reply, and Harry heard footsteps approaching the door. A gray-haired woman with a thin face answered the knock, and her voice had an annoyed tone to it.

"Look, Sir, we don't... oh dear..." She gaped at him, a look of pure astonishment on her face. It quickly evaporated, and she straightened her dress. "Look, sir, I'm sorry, but I'm very busy right now."

She didn't think it was him, Harry could see. Well, it made sense; since graduation and after eleven years with the Aurors, his face had aquired a good share of new features - and new scars. "Wizards," he said softly, but distinctly, so that she would be sure about what he said.

In one fluid motion she reached out, grabbed the corner of his sweater, and jerked him inside the house. "Are you mad?" she asked, glaring at him. "The whole world could have heard you!"

"I don't think Privet Drive's acoustics are quite that good," he said, shrugging.

"Yes, well... it's good to see that you're safe. Where have you been all these years?"

"It's actually sort of a long story, and a good part of it involves My Folk, so I don't think you'd want to hear it..."

"Harry," she said, walking toward the sitting room, "I've been quite awful to you in the past, but you must understand, I was simply bitter over something about your mother and took out my frustration on you."

"A reoccuring theme to be sure," he said, making an obscure reference to his deceased Potions Master. Petunia didn't seem to pick up on it.

"The point is, I'm sorry for what happened..." she swallowed. "What I did to you as a boy. Can you forgive me?" She sat down on a dark red sofa, and he eased down onto an armchair opposite her.

"I have already. I've seen some... well, some things from certain people that convinced me you didn't mean what you did." Petunia glanced up at the staircase, and Harry craned his neck around to see what she was looking at. Vernon Dursley, clad only in a too-small bathrobe, lumbered down the stairs. He paused for a second as he caught sight of Harry, but looked away and headed straight for the kitchen. A few seconds later he waddled out holding a cup of coffee and a biscuit.

"Well, I suppose you won, then."

"Apparently so," Harry replied. He wasn't so quick to forgive Vernon - after all, he had no real excuse for hating Harry with such a passion.

"Good for you, then. Did you see that Manchester United won again?"

"I did," said Harry. "Surprising, considering their loss of Beckham, I didn't think they'd recover."

"So," Petunia began, "how are you, Harry?"

"Well, I thought that you should know that I'm married now," he replied. "I have two children, a boy and a girl, and another one on the way."

"Wonderful," Vernon said, but his tone of voice communicated that he did not, in fact, consider the news wonderful. Harry understood why - more wizards in England could never be a good thing.

"So, how is Dudley?" He asked. Petunia looked down at her feet and didn't speak. Vernon was silent for a moment before responding morosely.

"He died about three years ago." He ran a hand through his rapidly-thinnning hair and continued. "He was driving on a motorcycle with some of his friends, and he wasn't wearing a helmet. He crashed."

Petunia sniffled. "He was just out of college, and wasn't doing anything we expected him too... he was such a good boy, though..." She began to sniffle, and Harry sympathized, even though he knew with all his heart that Dudley was not, in fact, at all a good boy. Harry couldn't imagine losing one of his children. "I'm sorry, I've been rude," Petunia said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, actually, I have to be off - I work as an Auror at the Ministry, and I'm going to have to be back soon. Lunch break is almost up, and all."

"It was nice seeing you again," Petunia said. Harry stood up, with Petunia following suit, and she gave him a tight hug. He knew it wasn't entirely for him - some of it had to be directed at Dudley.

"So, you're one of the boys in blue now, huh?" Vernon asked, sipping his coffee.

"Actually, I prefer red." And with a crack, he was off.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds afterwards. "I still don't like him much," Vernon commented.

"Oh, shut up, Vernon." He simply shrugged and sipped his coffee.