The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

Chapter 2

Never Without Reason and Alliances

"She's always been good at that," Harry heard his aunt say from behind him. He turned to look at her and found her staring at the door. Slowly, her attention turned to him and she studied him. "Leaving people behind, I mean."

Harry looked away. "I know," he said, "I just wasn't expecting…" he trailed off.

"That she would go so far as to leave her own child with people that he had never met?" his aunt finished for him. Suddenly, Harry found his hands to be the most fascinating things in the world. He jumped when a hand was thrust into his face. "Come," his aunt said, "You look like you could use a cup of tea." Harry stood up, and accepted her hand, allowing Petunia to lead him back to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later found Harry sitting at the kitchen table, eating his fifth chocolate chip cookie. His aunt sat across from him, sipping demurely at a cup of tea as she watched Dudley finish his the last few bites of his lunch. Once he had, she shooed him to his room, telling him to 'go play'. Harry watched Dudley leave before turning back to his aunt. She was staring deeply into her teacup, and for a moment, Harry almost thought that she was reading her fortune in her tea dregs before he remembered-she wasn't a witch.

"I was happy for her, you know," Petunia said, and Harry leaned forward in interest. "We all were, mum, dad, me…I think I was the happiest. I knew that I would miss her terribly. Lily was my whole life, almost. I didn't have many friends. Everyone always liked Lily, she was the pretty one; she was always smiling, laughing. People tend to appreciate a child more if they smile." She took another sip of tea. "It was like we were all riding a wave that just kept growing higher and higher the closer we came to the day that she would leave for Hogwarts. The day that she would leave us behind, but we were still so happy. I don't think that I really noticed at the time, though, the growing apart. Then, when the day finally came, we all went down to Kings Cross to see her off. We couldn't go through the barrier, of course, which upset mother terribly. 'I want to take pictures,' she said." Aunt Petunia sighed. "She promised to write. She said that she would write two letters a week. I waited for those letters. They never came." She looked at him shrewdly. " She didn't write ever, and then, when she came home from that school, she went on and on about how amazing it was, how wonderful. How much more special it was then our boring, mundane world. When she was finally gone from my life, once she'd married and moved out, I was shocked at the number of letters I received. All about how wonderful her life was, the money, the homes, the private island… There was no 'how have you been', 'or, I love you.' It was all about her, as always. Always about Lily. I see that that hasn't changed." Carefully setting her cup down on the table, she clasped her hands together before moving them to her lap and straightening out the skirt of her dress.

Harry didn't know what to say in the silence that followed. So, he said the only thing he could think of: "I'm sorry."

His aunt looked up, startled. "What? Why would you be- she was just a stupid-" she began with a derisive sniff before ending in a huff.

"One of the first things that I ever learned about my mother was that she only has room in her life for one person." Harry interrupted, ignoring her obvious surprise at his words. "My grandmother told me that. Or her portrait at least. I believe her. She was a Black. Father said that Blacks may be dark and mostly insane, but that they could give some good advice and that their more sharp than a goblin made sword."

Petunia nodded in agreement, "Yes, she's right." There was silence for a moment, then, "There was a boy, Severus, she met him one day, at the park. He told her that she was special, that she was a witch. That she had magic. You can imagine how pleased Lily must have been. For long, long while- years, even, he was all he talked about. But then, when she was fifteen, I think, it was the Potter boy. I never did know what happened. In all previous letters, all mentions of him had been of how horrid and immature he was, how he was always terrorizing Severus and herself. Then, snap, just like that, he's the love of her life and 'Sev' was suddenly synonymous with scum." She stopped to study him. "I'm supposed to hate your kind, you know," She continued almost conversationally, "I convinced myself that I did. But really, I hated the thing that took my sister from me…"

Harry looked at her with eyes that fairly gleamed with intelligence. "But it wasn't the magic that took her, was it? She left. Like you said, she became enchanted."

"Children shouldn't speak that way," Petunia said with a bit of her usual rancor.

Harry just gave her an incredulous look. "Why not?" he asked, leaning forward a bit in anticipation of her answer.

Petunia's eyes narrowed a bit, wondering if Harry was mocking her. She turned away from burning green eyes with a huff. "It's just- it's just not right. Children aren't supposed to talk that way."

Harry hummed under his breath and nodded in agreement. "I suppose a muggle would think that, but magical children mature faster."

"Mature faster? Why?" Petunia asked, looking at him out of her eye while trying to disguise her obvious interest.

Harry nodded again. "Magic," he stated with a mocking wiggle of his fingers.

"What would magic have to do with something like that?" Petunia asked, curious despite herself.

"Magic...affects wizard's greatly. It influences the way we grow, the way we think. Our emotions our thoughts, even our health. When we are at full capacity, when we have more magic, we tend to be more energetic, almost like when muggles have an adrenaline rush. When our reserved are depleted, were lethargic, and we have to rest until our magic is recovered. However, if too much magic is built up- if there's no release and it just keeps building- we can become severely ill. That's why, when we're young, or our emotions are high, we experience what's called 'Accidental Magic'. Muggleborns don't really suffer these affects as much- they normally don't have as much magic as purebloods, or even half-bloods. That isn't always a bad thing, though," he said with a wag of his finger. "Less magic is usually easier to control." He paused, thinking of what to say next, before looking up at his aunt. "Do you have any questions so far?" She nodded, and he gestured for her to speak.

"Who teaches you all of this. I mean, your kind doesn't start at that school 'til you're eleven, do they?" she asked. She was a bit suspicious about how much he knew at such a young age. Her mind was drawn to Lily's first summer back from Hogwart's. She'd gone on for hours about how she thought that there was some kind of conspiracy to keep children from non-Wizarding families behind by giving the others a head start. Listening to this little boy speak so certainly about something that seemed to be above his level, she wondered if there had been any merit in Lily's suspicions.

"Ah...mostly father and Dumbledore. Some stuff, though I learn through reading."

"Isn't Dumbledore...?"

"The headmaster of Hogwarts?" Petunia nodded. "Yes, he is. He's over at our house a lot, and we visit Hogwarts quite a bit. 'We' being my family, I mean."

"Do many children begin learning magic at such a young age?" Petunia questioned.

Harry nodded, "No, Father started learning when he was eight. And even then, it's just little things, like spells for cleaning and stuff like that- things that aren't really practical for someone with house elves to learn, but simple enough for children. Even then, though, we don't use real wands. Just generic practice wands so we can learn what it feels like." Suddenly, he grinned. "Before the accident, Father said that he may start me early. He told me that I'm more like a pureblood, that I've got more magic, and it's building up too fast." He seemed ridiculously pleased about this, though Petunia couldn't help but feel a faint sense of worry seize her. "Henry's almost a squib, but not me. I have almost the same amount of magic as a powerful adult wizard and it hasn't even settled yet."

"Settled?" Petunia questioned in confusion.

Harry nodded, "It means that it hasn't finished growing, it probably won't stop until I'm eighteen." Harry paused before continuing. "Like I said, magic changes the way people think…and the way that they grow as well. People with magic tend to be thin, because their magic is always eating as well. Children especially, as their magic needs more energy to grow. Apparently, at Hogwarts, every meal is a great feast because when we use magic, we need more to eat. So, when we're constantly doing magic in classes and stuff, we have to build up our reserves and eat a lot

Petunia just nodded. "So you need to eat more than a regular child?"

Harry seemed surprised by the question. "Well, kind of. Really, I usually just eat a series of small snacks in between meals, so that I'm not constantly stuffing myself."

"Yes, I suppose that makes sense." There was a lull in the conversation in which the two just sat in companionable silence. "Is there any way for you to get your things?" Petunia asked.

Again, Harry was surprised by his aunt's question. "Well, I think. I mean…maybe, I'm not really sure. I could try calling a house elf…"

Petunia eyed him seriously over the rim of her cup. "Well then, why don't you?"

"You wouldn't mind?" Harry seemed rather confused.

"Why would I? You're going to need clothes and things if you're going to stay here, and while I could go out and buy you clothes, I don't have the money for a whole new wardrobe."

"Well, yes, that's true, but-it's just…I thought you didn't like magic."

"I don't," his aunt responded curtly.

"Then why-?"

Placing her cup down, his aunt looked him in the eye. "Have you ever heard the expression 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'?"

"Well, yes, of course, but what does that have to do-"

"It doesn't matter to Lily. Friends, family, her sister…her own son," she leveled a look at Harry, "It doesn't matter if they're not the one. And neither of us were or are."

"Yes, I suppose that that's one thing we have in common," Harry said with a wry grin.

Petunia smiled in return, "Yes, it is, isn't it… You're a bit like me, you know?"

"Oh? How?" Harry questioned, curious.

"You're a bit more on the practical side. You have your own reasons for doing things, your own plans and agenda. You don't waste time on things or people that won't aid you in some way. I get the feeling that you get what you want. Always." Harry just nodded, and the kitchen fell into silence once again. At last, his aunt broke it. "Well?" she asked. Harry gave her a puzzled look. "Are you going to call?"

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly stood up, "Oh." Snapping his fingers, he called out, "Bitsy," and with a crack of displaced air, a house elf appeared before him.

"Lord Potter sir calls, sir?" Bitsy squeaked out with an enthusiastic wiggle.


Wow, that feels like a weird place to stop, but oh well. I apologize for the delay, as I was on a camping drove all the way down to South Carolina from Ohio- that's about a fifteen hour trip one way. We roughed it (or our definition, as we had air conditioners for our tents and air mattresses) and I therefore had no wifi or even a computer. But, before I left, I was halfway through this chapter, so I just had to finish it, then edit, so here it is! I hope you enjoyed it.