Detailed Summary

Vernon and Petunia Dursley are drunks and addicts living in a London slum when Dumbledore leaves Harry on their doorstep. Harry quickly learns to be independent. With the birth of his medically fragile cousin Dudley, Harry is placed in foster care for a few months, while Vernon is imprisoned and Petunia tries to beat the addiction that led to Dudley's medical problems. As an infant, Dudley was not expected to live past a few days. However, through his own accidental magic, he makes a miraculous recovery, leading the hospital staff to nickname him "Lucky." After a few months, Harry and Petunia are reunited, and Lucky is discharged from the hospital. Harry treats the tiny boy as a little brother, determined to care for him, make him strong, and keep their family together. As a result, he keeps the family secrets when Vernon goes back to living with them, when Petunia starts drinking again, and both adults are gone all hours of the day and night. Harry grows up quickly, keeping his family fed and a roof over all their heads. Harry and his brother discover magic as children and try to make a life for themselves in the slums of Knockturn Alley while tending to Vernon and Petunia in Muggle London.

Notes

I never did anything like this before, and it turned out longer than I thought! With this chapter, I tried to stay true to JK Rowling's overall message and stress the importance of fraternal love (between Harry/Tiger and Dudley/Lucky) over that of romantic love (between Vernon and Petunia). This means that romance, if it happens at all, will occur very late in the story. Comments give me life!

Caretaker Chronicles

Minerva had her reservations about the Dursley family. The house was shabby and falling apart (surely the Muggles could do something about the broken windows and leaky roof even if they couldn't cast a Reparo charm). Dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink and dust covered every surface. As for the inhabitants- the man and woman seemed to live in a constant state of violent arguments and passionate lovemaking. She had only been watching them a day, and she saw them angrily break up and joyfully reunite at least three times. The house was mercifully silent and empty now. The woman was at work, bartending, while the man attended a loud party being held in the equally shabby house next door.

"Albus," the woman said, pleading her case. "You can't leave Harry here. These people can't be trusted with a dog, let alone a child! They're the worst sort of Muggles you could ever hope to find!"

"They're the only family he has," the bearded man named Albus pointed out quietly. "Love will find a way."

Minerva forced herself to trust Albus's judgment. Her old friend had a reason for everything, even if he rarely explained himself clearly. She forced herself to stay quiet even as the loud music and drunken howls from the party next door drowned out the roar of the flying motorcycle Hagrid had borrowed to deliver baby Harry. She resisted making a comment about the doorstep being covered in trash bags and empty beer bottles, which they had to clear away in order to provide a spot for Harry to sleep on. "Good luck, Harry," Albus murmured as the baby slept on, oblivious to the way his life irrevocably changed.

Harry had not been a welcome addition to the volatile couple. Vernon had filled out benefits forms to help alleviate the sudden burden of his nephew, but the extra bit of money every month did little to relieve the stress of a traumatized infant. The boy spent the first few weeks crying for his mama and dada every hour of the day and night. Neither Vernon nor Petunia were equipped to comfort a newly-orphaned Wizarding child. Petunia would attempt to feed or clean her unwanted nephew whenever she wasn't sleeping, working, or drunk, but she wasn't reliable. Vernon rarely had anything to do with the boy, preferring to be out late and sleep until mid-afternoon. Petunia became accustomed to her husband's wild ways and usually remembered to leave out something edible for her nephew so he wouldn't starve while she was out working and Vernon was out partying. Harry quickly learned to take care of himself, knowing that his cries rarely garnered a reaction.

The little family formed a routine, of a sort. Early in the morning, Petunia returned from her job as a barmaid. Sometimes, Harry was still awake, playing in the living room. Sometimes, he was asleep on the stained sofa. Either way, she changed his diaper and gave him a quick sponge bath. Sometimes he managed to sleep through this. If she woke him up, she got him something to eat and left him to feed himself while she stumbled off to sleep in the house's only bedroom.

Harry slept when he was tired and woke up whenever he liked. When he woke up, there were usually snacks- crackers, cereal, or a sippy cup of juice- where he could reach it. He learned to eat these slowly, knowing he couldn't always rely on these snacks appearing. He found hiding places throughout the house to keep part of his snack, saving it for when he was really hungry and he had nothing to eat. Vernon, who usually came drunk home a few hours after his wife, generally ignored Harry unless the boy did something to annoy him. When that happened, Vernon hit him 'round the head or slapped Harry's hands before stumbling off to bed. In the evening, Petunia went to work, usually remembering to change Harry's diaper and leave out a bit of food before she left. Sometimes, Vernon stayed home, either sleeping or wandering the house in a drunken haze. Sometimes Vernon went out. It didn't make any difference to Harry, who quickly grew to be very independent.

Harry simply removed diapers that went unchanged for uncomfortably long periods of time. After a few weeks of seeing wet and soiled diapers piled up around the house, Petunia started the process of toilet-training the boy. A training potty was purchased, and Harry was instructed to sit on it instead of dirtying diapers. Vernon walloped him whenever he noticed the boy had wet or soiled his pants. After a month or so, the still one-year-old Harry wasn't toilet-trained, per se. However, he did develop a mysterious ability to make any mess in his pants magically disappear. Occasionally, by pure luck, he managed to go in the training potty, which convinced Petunia that she was fulfilling her maternal duty towards her unwanted nephew.

By December, Harry and his relatives managed to stay out of each other's way. The boy loved playing outside and quickly learned how to open the door and walk out without bothering his aunt or uncle. He always stuck close by, content to explore his immediate area. The small backyard was full of rubbish for him to climb on, and the loud neighbors were interesting to watch. It was often cold out, but Harry found that if he hugged himself a certain way, he could make his whole body feel warm and flushed. Sometimes, he accidentally set nearby objects on fire this way. The first time this happened, he screamed in terror, going unheard by his sleeping aunt and uncle. However, once he stopped focusing on wanting to be warm, the flames disappeared, leaving not a burn behind.

Harry also began to talk, repeating words- both good and bad- said by his aunt and uncle or shouted by his neighbors. He never had much of a conversation with his relatives, but he found that stating his needs led to Aunt Petunia being more likely to remember to feed or clean him, while swearing led to his uncle chuckling and ruffling his hair.

In April 1982, Petunia discovered she was pregnant. She didn't hold out much hope for this child, her last pregnancy (a boy she had planned to name Dudley) having resulted in a miscarriage. She carried on with her usual routine, while doing her best to minimize her increasing curves for the sake of her job and her husband.

Petunia hadn't bothered to tell her husband she was pregnant, doubting that she could carry a child to term and wanting to avoid the inevitable argument about having "another mouth to feed!" In fact, Vernon hadn't realized Petunia was pregnant until she was rushed to the hospital, having gone into labor when she was just shy of six months along.

Petunia stayed in the hospital for a few days, leaving Vernon and Harry to their own devices. Vernon made an income selling drugs around the neighborhood, and, while it was higher than what Petunia made from bartending, it wasn't nearly as reliable. Harry got good at climbing up to reach the high shelves and cabinets in the kitchen when food wasn't within reach. When there was no food to be had in the kitchen, Harry went outside and scavenged scraps from rubbish bins around the neighborhood. Eventually, Petunia returned without the baby, and life seemed to go on as usual.

Well, not quite. Grown-ups Harry had never seen before tromped through their little house. A group of them took Uncle Vernon away. Another group spoke to Aunt Petunia. Petunia sobbed and shook her head. The grown-ups spoke more sternly. Petunia raised her voice, and the grown-ups shook their heads. Harry found himself being taken away, just like Uncle Vernon.

He spent the next three months in various houses. Once Harry started to get used to one house, he was moved to another one. Each one generally fed him more than he was used to and kept him warmer. Still, strange things seemed to happen around Harry. Toys and treats he couldn't reach floated easily into his hands. The adults in charge of him naturally assumed he was stealing. Most of them refused to keep a thief in their house for very long, and Harry was quickly sent to another home.

At one home, Harry had been playing in the garden when he came upon a small green snake. This snake talked just like the animals in the picture books his foster mother sometimes read to him. Harry grinned- he had thought that was just pretend.

Stupid human hatchlings moved my rock!" the snake was grumbling to itself. Indeed, there was a pit in the dirt where a rather large rock was until recently. A few feet away stood a small tower of rocks that some of the older children had stacked up just yesterday before quickly forgetting about it. Harry grabbed the one that looked like it would fit in the empty pit.

"Is this the right one?" he asked the snake, carefully setting the rock down.

The snake looked up at Harry, startled. "You speak?" it asked.

"Of course I can talk," said Harry. Really, how else would he be able to remind his caregivers to feed him or unlock the door and let him play outside?

"This rock will do nicely," said the snake, climbing up on it to bask in the sun. "Thank you, hatchling."

Harry didn't stay in that home very long. He wasn't kicked out, but the grown-ups allowed Aunt Petunia to take him back. She looked less bony, less tired than Harry remembered her. Harry's foster mother bent down to give him a hug and kiss goodbye, and Petunia hurried him away.

She took him to the hospital, into a small dark room full of small tables holding glass lights. Inside each glass light was a small baby. Was he ever that small? The babies all seemed to have strange wires sticking out of them. He wondered if he looked like that when he was a baby. When did they take out the wires?

Petunia took him by the hand to prevent him from running off and led him to the back towards yet another square light. She lifted him up so he could see the baby inside. This one was a little larger than the others (still very small) and had a head full of blond curls. "This is Lucky," Aunt Petunia told Harry quietly. "Your cousin."

Harry didn't know what a cousin was, but he peered at the small boy. "He's tiny," he said.

"He's grown quite a bit," said Petunia. "More than anyone expected. We named him Dudley, but everyone started calling him Lucky, and it stuck."

"Why does he have wires sticking out of him?" Harry asked.

"To help him grow," Petunia explained. "He's coming home with us today. They'll take the wires out before he leaves."

"He'll live with us?" Harry asked. "Will he be my brother?"

"Your cousin," Petunia corrected.

"He's pretty small," Harry continued, still not understanding what the word "cousin" meant. "He needs a big brother." Harry remembered the bigger boys from his previous foster homes. Some of them were mean, hitting the other kids. Others were nice, calling Harry their "brother," giving him extra food and sharing their toys. "He looks like he needs a big brother," Harry decided.

Petunia pursed her lips but kept silent. A nearby nurse, overhearing the conversation, smiled at Harry. "You'll make a great big brother," she cooed. "Take care of my little Lucky, you hear?" she said, winking at Harry.

"I hear," said Harry, not sure how to answer that question but determined to be a good brother.

The three returned home. Petunia explained that Vernon was still in jail, would be back home soon, and warned him not to mention his uncle to anyone who visited the house- they weren't supposed to know that he would be coming back. "You don't want to be taken away again, do you, Harry?" Petunia asked, as she carefully laid Baby Lucky down in the new secondhand crib now in the corner of the house's only bedroom.

Harry shook his head mutely.

"Good," said Petunia approvingly. "As long as you keep quiet about Uncle Vernon coming back here, we can all stay together."

A small bed- also secondhand- took up another corner of the room. Aunt Petunia informed him that he would be sleeping there from now on.

The nurses hadn't taken out all of Lucky's wires, Harry noticed. Lucky still had a tube going into his stomach, which the staff members had taught Petunia to hook up to a machine that pumped a yellowy-white liquid into Lucky's stomach. Petunia explained that this was how Lucky ate and that maybe, when he was bigger, he could eat with his mouth. Harry gazed at the intimidating-looking machine pumping food into his brother's stomach and hoped Lucky could eat with his mouth soon. That didn't look comfortable at all.

The grown-ups who visited the house occasionally- the ones who had taken Harry away- told Petunia she wasn't allowed to work around alcohol anymore. She had to find a new job. Harry didn't understand why. Alcohol was a grown-up drink, and Petunia was a grown-up wasn't she?

Petunia grumbled a bit but found a job that had her awake and gone during the day. She complained about the decrease in pay but went to work nonetheless. A nurse was dispatched to the Dursley house to tend to Baby Lucky during the day. Originally, Petunia had intended for the nurse to mind Harry as well. However, the home health company had a policy against their nurses being held responsible for any children who were not the patient they were assigned to care for.

After discussions among the grown-ups, a state-run preschool program was found for the three-year-old Harry. It was close to home, so Petunia would walk Harry to preschool, dropping him off the moment it opened at seven AM, before taking the bus to work. Every evening at seven PM, she would pick him up and walk him home. The nurse, a lady named Miss Diane stayed with Lucky while Petunia gave Harry a bath and put something down for dinner. Harry played with Lucky and Miss Diane while Petunia cooked. Harry helped Lucky to sit up, move his arms and legs, and tried to teach his little brother everything he had learned in preschool that day.

Miss Diane commented to Petunia about the large, emerald green eyes both the boys had. "My sister had the same eyes," Petunia had said quietly.

"You had a sister, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, having never heard her mention a sister.

"Yes, she was your mother," said Petunia. "I was your mother's sister, which means I'm your aunt."

Harry hadn't understood what the title aunt meant until now. Strange to think he was related to Petunia through something besides Baby Lucky. He shrugged it off in favor of asking more questions. Petunia hated it when he asked lots of questions, but the grown-ups who visited the house all assured her that this was normal for a child Harry's age- this was how he learned. So, Petunia became more patient with the seemingly endless questions, hoping to avoid being saddled with a stupid child.

"Did she like tigers, too? Did she have black hair like me? What was her name?"

Petunia took three deep calming breaths as Harry fired questions rapid-fire at her. "Her name was Lily," she said. "She had red hair, like that girl in class... Ellen?"

"Eileen!" Harry corrected.

"Yes, her. Lily didn't care much for tigers one way or the other, but she loved cats."

"Tigers are a kind of cat," Harry had pointed out. "I bet she would have liked a tiger if she ever saw one!"

"Yes, perhaps," said Petunia, not wanting to be pulled into a never-ending conversation about the hypothetical likes and dislikes of her deceased sister. Perhaps this was what those nosy social workers meant by "Picking her battles."

Harry loved preschool. He received two meals and two snacks every day without having to worry about looking around the kitchen for food; in fact, his teacher, Miss Natalie had been cross with him the one time he had gone into the kitchen. She didn't hit him like Uncle Vernon had when he got mad, though. She simply said, "Stay in the classroom, please, Harry," and, since he had food brought to him, he saw no reason to venture into the kitchen again.

He quickly learned his letters, and Miss Natalie was teaching him how to read small words. She said he was really good at sounding out letters. Harry's favorite book was a picture book about tigers. His favorite word was "ROOOAAARRR!" which was printed in big letters on pages 7-8 of the book. Harry knew how to read that word without having to worry about sounding out letters. Miss Natalie nicknamed him "Tiger" and taught him to write that word. It wasn't long before Harry demanded that everybody call him Tiger instead of his given name.

During art time, Tiger drew pictures of his little brother Lucky. Lucky managing to sit up all by himself after Tiger helped him with his exercises. Lucky starting to scoot around on the threadbare carpet. Miss Diane reading a book to the both of them while Tiger held Lucky in his lap. Miss Natalie said that Tiger was a good big brother and put a sticker on all of his pictures. Tiger glowed with pride. He loved being a big brother.

At night, when Petunia was sleeping, exhausted from working and mothering without the aid of alcohol, Tiger sat on the floor next to Lucky's crib. Sometimes, Lucky slept through the night. Other times, Lucky stared at his mobile, babbling quietly. When Lucky was awake, Tiger played with him, careful not to awaken Aunt Petunia. One night, Lucky waved his hands and made multicolored lights appear. The lights weren't bright enough to wake Petunia up, but they shined on the ceiling above their heads. Tiger copied the way Lucky waved his hands and soon found he could make colorful lights as well. Both boys moved their hands around, causing the lights to dance around the room and on each other, turning their ragged pajamas into glowing, polka-dotted costumes. They giggled together before Lucky's lights gradually dimmed and the baby fell asleep. Tiger concentrated on getting rid of his lights before Petunia caught him. His lights went out as well, and Tiger climbed into bed. He fell asleep hugging himself excitedly. He and Lucky could do the same strange things nobody else could! They really were brothers!

The next day at preschool, Tiger drew a picture of himself and Lucky surrounded by pretty lights of all colors of the rainbow. Miss Natalie said that one was her favorite of all the pictures he had ever drawn.

Lucky surprised the home health nurses with his progress, just as he surprised the nurses at the hospital. By the time he was two years old, he could eat foods by mouth. He still had a tube in his stomach, but that was only used when Lucky didn't eat enough. Petunia was taught how to poor a can of nutrition shake down the tube on these occasions. Lucky could walk a few steps without help before stumbling. He was still small and frail for his age, but his strength was improving as Tiger continued playing with him. Everyone talked about how smart he was. Thanks to Tiger's tutelage knew the letters of the alphabet, could read small words, and knew his colors and body parts. When he needed the shake poured into his tube (a bolus), he was able to tell people how to do this. Everyone noticed how adorable Lucky was, as well, with his blond curls and big green eyes so similar to Tiger's.

One Saturday in the summer when Tiger was four and Lucky was two, the brothers were playing in the backyard, while Petunia fixed supper inside. Tiger came upon a garden snake and was chatting with it when Lucky wandered over and began to imitate his brother, making hissing noises.

"Lucky! Talk like normal!" scolded Tiger. "The snake can't understand you like that!"

"I'm making hissing noises like you," said Lucky.

"I'm not hissing, I'm talking to the snake about all the rats it ate today."

"It sounds like hissing," Lucky pointed out.

Tiger introduced his baby brother Lucky to the snake when he heard it. He did sound like he was hissing. But he knew what he was saying to the snake, and the snake understood him. When the snake replied, he could now hear the hissing. But he could still understand the snake's response. It was very confusing. Tiger shrugged it off and decided to stick to what he knew.

"Lucky," he said. "This is how you say 'Hello' to a snake." He hissed out a hello. Lucky imitated him. It took Lucky three times to get the hissing right, but when he did, the snake nodded in acknowledgement and hissed out a response.

"What'd he say?" Lucky asked eagerly.

"He said 'Pleased to meet you,'" Tiger responded.

This led to Lucky repeating the pattern of hisses until he could accurately express his pleasure at meeting the snake.

"What's the snake's name, Tiger?" he asked.

"Snakes don't have names like people do," Tiger explained. The first snake he had ever spoken to had explained this to him.

"Why not?"

"They just don't," said Tiger, repeating the explanation he had been given.

"Ask that snake if I can give him a name," Lucky demanded.

Tiger translated the request. A long, hissing conversation ensued. "He said you can call him Rat-Eater," he told his brother. "Because of all the rats he's eaten." Tiger then demonstrated the series of hisses that translated to Rat-Eater.

"Pleased to meet you, Rat-Eater," said Lucky in perfect Parseltongue.

After being discharged from home health services, Lucky began attending nursery at the same facility where Tiger went to preschool. At this point, Tiger had already spoken of his younger brother enough that the staff felt that they already knew him. Like Tiger, he took to school like a duck to water, enjoying the stories and games. At naptime, Lucky would have trouble falling asleep, used to being in the same room as his mother and brother. His teacher, Miss Monica, would sing him lullabies to calm him. Soon, Lucky knew the words to all of Miss Monica's songs and started putting together rhyming words to write his own. He declared that he wanted to be a singer when he grew up. His big brother Tiger could be in his band, too. Lucky ate so well that the doctor felt confident enough to remove the tube from his stomach. He could take all of his meals by mouth, now. He was still frail and tired much more easily than the other children and couldn't walk very far without stumbling or becoming out of breath, but he had come a long way from the baby that the doctors thought would die within a few days of his birth.

The blissful period of stability ended with Vernon's homecoming. The man had been in jail for selling drugs, but he was released after three years and quickly reunited with Petunia. Petunia hated having to shoulder the responsibilities of parenthood, working, and keeping a roof over everyone's head on her own. She welcomed her husband back with open arms. With Vernon's return came the return of alcohol, late nights out, and afternoons spent sleeping in. Petunia soon lost her job and began to spend her days and nights getting drunk. The family got behind on the rent, and the kitchen went back to having no food.

Tiger, five years old at the time, took on the responsibility of walking three-year-old Lucky to and from preschool. Tiger had graduated from preschool at this point and was scheduled to start primary school. However, neither Petunia nor Vernon had enrolled him. Knowing this could get his aunt and uncle in trouble and himself and Lucky taken away, Tiger didn't mention this to anyone. Instead, he told Miss Natalie (now Lucky's preschool teacher) that he was being homeschooled (a word he learned by overhearing a discussion between two teachers, who were discussing a former coworker who decided to homeschool her daughter). Miss Natalie always had a hug and a snack for her former pupil. On their walks to school, Tiger warned Lucky to not talk about their home life, telling him they would be taken away somewhere bad if anyone knew Vernon and Petunia couldn't take care of them. Lucky, green eyes wide with fear, always promised to keep the family secrets.

While Lucky was in preschool and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were either sleeping or out partying, Tiger wandered the streets of London, scavenging food from bins and sneaking things off the shelves at grocery stores. One day, he accidentally taught himself how to pick pockets. He was walking behind a man who had a large wallet stuffed in his back pocket. Tiger found himself wishing that he could have that much money when the wallet suddenly floated out of the man's pocket, right into his hands.

Tiger hugged the wallet and hurried into a nearby alley. He yanked out several 100-pound notes and many twenties, enough to pay rent for that month and purchase a feast from the grocery store. Tiger waited until Saturday to spend the money, knowing that shopping or dropping off the rent money on a weekday would cause grown-ups to ask why he wasn't in school.

On Saturday, he went into the leasing office and stood on tiptoe to see over the counter. "Petunia Dursley in Number 16 sent me with the rent money," he lied.

"About time," grunted the landlord. "She's two months behind," he added, consulting a clipboard.

"How much do we owe you?" Tiger asked, hoping he had enough.

The landlord named the amount, and Tiger handed over the bills. The man handed Tiger a receipt. "Make sure you give that to her," he instructed. "This shows that she's caught up on rent." Tiger nodded and hurried out of the office.

When he returned home, Petunia and Vernon were both out. Lucky was looking around the kitchen. "Tiger, I'm hungry," he whined.

Tiger paused. Lucky really needed to learn how to count money, and he was too young to be left alone. "I can fix this," he said, leading Lucky out the door to the store.

The words "I can fix this" became Tiger's mantra over the next several years. Who else could take care of things? Lucky was too young and frail; Aunt Petunia too drunk; Uncle Vernon too mean. It was down to him to make sure his family was safe, housed, and fed. That was why when Tiger and Lucky's young age and lack of parents caught the attention of other shoppers and employees, Tiger quickly grabbed Lucky's hand and hustled them out without buying anything. "Tiger we don't have any food!" Lucky pointed out.

Tiger shushed him. "We'll try another store, Lucky," he reassured his brother. "We can't draw attention to ourselves. Otherwise they'll see us with no parents and take us away." Tiger had previously told him about his time in foster care during the first few months of Lucky's life. It wasn't an experience the brothers wanted to repeat. "Don't worry," said Tiger. "I can fix this."

They walked to a store a few blocks over, trying to stay inconspicuous. Tiger had wanted to push Lucky in his stroller, but Lucky refused to ride in the stroller like a baby, so they had left it at home. Lucky, his little legs already tired, clung tightly to Tiger's hand. The grown-ups had discussed the possibility of him needing a cane or walker when he was older. Tiger wondered where he could find one of those. None of the stores he had been in sold them. He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. That was a saying Miss Natalie used to repeat when her students had trouble "staying in the present," as she put it. When it was the start of the day and a student was shouting out questions about what games they would play during afternoon gym class, Miss Natalie would smile patiently and say "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," and turn the class's attention to the work in front of them. Miss Natalie always had fun games for them to play in gym whether or not her students discussed it with her beforehand. Might as well get on with the work he needed to do right now.

One second, there were two small boys in the alleyway between the Laundromat and the grocery store. The next second, Lucky was standing next to a grown man with reddish-blond hair. His brother had vanished.

"Tiger!" Lucky screamed, stumbling as he darted away from the man as quickly as his small legs could carry him.

"I'm right here, Lucky," said the man.

"Tiger, you're big now. Like a grown-up," said Lucky in shock. "And you have red hair now!"

"What? No, I'm not!" But even as he denied it, he could see how much further down he had to look to meet Lucky's eyes. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the store window and noticed that his once black untidy hair was now reddish-blond and down to his shoulders. It was still shaggy, but the extra length gave it enough weight to stay down better than it used to. He ran a hand through his hair and saw the man reflected in the store window doing the same. He frowned when he saw that the man had his lightning-shaped scar. His aunt was always covering it with hats and bandanas. Tiger couldn't blame her. A distinctive mark like that drew attention and made it more likely for grown-ups to follow him around. Today he had relied on his long fringe to hide the scar, but in this form, his bangs had grown out. He would have to keep his head down, then. Perhaps he could buy a hat in the store. It was lucky that the clothes he was wearing grew with his body, or they would really be in trouble.

"How did you do that?" Lucky asked.

"I don't know. But I look like an adult now! We can go buy food without anyone trying to take us away! Let's go before whatever this is wears off!" He quickly pulled Lucky into the store. To his relief, nobody gave the two a second glance.

"But what if it never wears off?" Lucky asked quietly.

Tiger shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

The... spell... magic... whatever it was wound up wearing off sooner than Tiger would have liked, if he was being honest with himself. It had lasted while he and Lucky were selecting groceries, while they got in line for the cashier, while Tiger taught Lucky how to count out the bills to pay for their purchases, while the patient cashier smiled at the man and child. However, once they left the store with their groceries, the magic faded away, leaving Tiger a boy again. This meant that he had to carry home the lion's share of the groceries with the strength of a five-year-old boy. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he reminded himself.

The two sat on a nearby bench and their fill of lunchmeat, crisps, and juice before setting off back home. Despite the weight of the groceries, the fact that they now had food and were able to stay together in their little one-bedroom house made the world seem lighter.

They had to stop frequently to allow Lucky to rest, but they made it home eventually. Vernon and Petunia were still out. The two were used to this. After putting the food away, Tiger gave Lucky his bath and settled him down to sleep. Ever since Lucky had outgrown his crib, the brothers had been sharing the child-sized bed.

"Tiger?" Lucky asked. "What if mummy and daddy can't take care of us anymore?"

Tiger smiled reassuringly at his brother even as his heart pounded. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said.

Lucky was silent for a moment. "I don't think they can take care of us now," he admitted. "I think we're at that bridge now."

"I'll take care of you, then," Tiger promised. "I can fix this."

And he waved his hand, making multicolored lights dance around the room. Lucky imitated him, and soon the room was full of rainbow lights, lulling the boys to sleep.

Vernon and Petunia eventually returned home. If they noticed the extra food in the kitchen or the lack of landlord banging on the door demanding rent, they didn't mention it. Tiger continued walking Lucky to preschool while maintaining the form of a young boy (it wouldn't do for the teachers to see Lucky walking around with a strange man, after all). Once Lucky was safely deposited in his class, Tiger experimented with his new power. It got easier to transform each time. Once he turned into a man, he was able to pick up odd jobs around the neighborhood, earning a little extra money to supplement what he got from picking pockets.

One day, a small repair shop was looking for an extra hand. Tiger went in as a grown man to apply. By this point, he already knew how to do basic home repairs, having fixed up the shabby house they all lived in. The owner of the shop, Greg, had him do some basic repairs on small appliances. Tiger was able to accomplish this quickly and efficiently, earning an approving nod from Greg.

Around lunchtime, a customer brought in something Greg had never seen before- a sneezing toaster. Each time the toaster let out a loud "Ah-choo!" a burst of green flames was released into the air. Greg took it apart, but couldn't see anything that could possibly cause that.

"Might be easier to just buy a new one," he told the customer before turning to the young man sweeping the floor. "Unless you got any ideas, Tiger?"

Tiger wandered over to inspect the toaster. Greg hadn't really had any hope that he could fix it, but what did they have to lose? "I can fix this," Tiger said after a few moments of staring down at the disassembled parts. To Greg's surprise, after about half an hour of poking and prodding, Tiger got rid of the sneezing and flames and had the toaster reassembled, good as new.

Tiger smiled as the grateful customer paid and left with her repaired toaster. "I can fix anything," he said quietly, more to himself than Greg.

Then, he turned to Greg. "So, do I have the job?"

At Greg's nod, Tiger's smile grew wider. "Great!" Then, he said, in barely more than a whisper, "I can fix this."

Afterword

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