A/N: See end of chapter for extended author's note. Sorry for the year long wait. Here's the awaited chapter, extra long to make up for lost time. (Please leave a review on your way out 3)

..::Chapter Two::..

First Encounters

I sat at the table annoyed. My little three-year-old self, glaring deeply at the kitchen where an irresponsible adult is already planning the slavery of an innocent child. I shot daggers at the back of Petunia who is irritably showing little Harry the ropes of the kitchen. She is instructing him on how to cook an egg.

I will never understand how the Dursleys can constantly insult Harry's intelligence and call him stupid yet expect him to do tasks that no one his age should be capable of. Cooking at three years old is not a feat that many people to claim to themselves. And here stands my mother, scolding the very person she consistently says is useless for not understanding what she dishes out. And poor baby Harry can only cower there wondering why a giant woman is yelling at him.

I huff and turn my attention away. There is little I can do about the situation without making it worse for Harry. Because I am 'precious' Diddykins any fault I make is automatically punishment to Harry. Thus I try to carry myself as careful as possible, which is easier said than done when your three-year-old limbs still fail to understand and recreate even the simplest of instructions. Many a fall and knocked over objects have been the bane of Harry's pitiful existence in the Dursley abode and I'm disgusted that I may have had anything to do with his increased discomfort. (Let's just say that a lot of things in this place disgust me).

I vow to make it up to the boy later as I turn to my breakfast. A huge platter is laid before me, big enough for even adult-me to be full from. I'm also slightly disgusted at the lack of proper parenting in this household. It's no wonder the original Dudley was such a fat pig. I'll just have to try my best to avoid that fate. A lot of running and exercising whenever I get the chance. I'll bring Harry along with me too.

I take a couple of bites, careful to sneak a few bits of food into a satchel I have under the table every few seconds. It's easier today because Vernon had to leave early for work and won't be here to catch my deceit. Not that he would anyways; the walrus is slower than creature I've ever come across. The stowed away food is for Harry to eat in secret later because lord know that my parents don't feed him enough, and I'll be damned if I let that boy be malnourished and underdeveloped before our Hogwarts days.

The morning meal passes without much fanfare. Harry struggles to make an egg while balancing on top a chair before the stove. The end result isn't pretty but who would expect it to be? There was some collateral damage. Collateral meaning the egg that is and thankfully not Harry in anyway. But Petunia still sees it fit to scold the boy for his perhaps third or so attempt at cooking and sends him to his 'room' with the punishment of no lunch. I roll my eyes and quickly empty the contents of my plate into the satchel and hide it beneath my chair as Petunia approaches me.

"Hi there Diddykins," she coos and pinches my cheeks. "Sorry you can't have your egg this morning," her face turns sour, "that street urchin just ruined the last one. But don't you worry; Mama will go buy a whole new box of them. I'll also pick up a couple of custard tarts. Would you like that?"

I force a smile onto my face, horrified at her choice of words. "Thank you Momma. I would love that."

She beams at me, "That's my good boy. So polite, and your diction is so good too." She gives me a hug in her bony arms. "I'll be right back. You be good in the house okay? The telly is there for you too. See you soon love." With one last kiss on the forehead she leaves to go get her purse, then she walks out the front door.

I wait until I can hear the car pulling from the driveway and leaving before I move away from the table and to the cupboard beneath the stairs. I hesitantly knock on the door, "Harry…?"

Almost immediately the door flings open and I suddenly have an armful of Harry. I fall backwards and burst out laughing. "What's gotten into you?"

The boy doesn't look up and buries his head in my chest. I smile at his small form fondly and gently pat his messy hair. Harry shifts and shyly peaks up at me with those brilliant green eyes, "Stoves are scarwy."

I can't help when I burst out laughing. Harry's face becomes flushed and he pouts at me, I just grin and hug him tighter to reassure him that I was only poking fun at him. "They're only scary because you're so tiny." An insulted huff. "But I suppose with practice… You'll be cooking like a master chef in no time!"

He doesn't say anything but I can feel the feelings of achievement and happiness radiating from him. Harry loves it when I praise him, I try not to do it all the time but the wonderfully warm response I get from his is almost too much too pass up. He really was a cute kid.

"Anyways," I pull the tyke off of me, holding him at arm's length, and look straight in his eyes. "Why don't we cook a little bit while Mom is out? I'll teach you a few things. Hm?"

Harry's eyes grow comically big then he gets a suspicious look on his faces, it's unbearably adorable. "How you know to cook?" I smirked.

"Because I'm the best of course. I'm amazing at everything!"

"Fadder G-Gaebral," he struggles with the name. "Says pride is a sin."

I shrug not denying it. "Eh. It's only a sin if you let it overtake and blind you."

"Overtake?"

"Big kid word," I easily reply. "I'll explain when you're older." At this Harry really pouts, his cheeks becoming puffed and red.

"But you're not big kid!"

I laugh and ruffle his raven locks; Harry vehemently tries to knock my prying hands away still holding his mini grudge. "Like I said. I'm amazing. I don't need to be a big kid to know big kids things. I probably know more things than most big kids anyways." I start walking towards the kitchen dragging my sweet cousin behind me. "But we should start cooking now if you don't want to get caught." I glance behind me discreetly only to catch Harry rolling his eyes at my antics. For such a young boy Harry really was remarkably smart and observant. He definitely understood more than I did at his age.

I relinquish him when we reach the kitchen and I quickly push a dining room chair in front of the stove. Then I walk over to the trash and peak inside.

"Okay Har, do you remember what we were practicing last week?" Last week was actually about three days ago since it was Tuesday.

Harry quickly nods and joins me in searching the trash. Even without me explaining he already knows what I was getting at. "Found it!" He exclaims, "there. By the fish box."

I look to where he was pointing and lo-and-behold there was a burnt and ruined scramble of eggs scattered around a frozen fish-sticks box. It's a little gross, especially since the rubbish bin stinks, but this was something we had to do.

"Okay. You know what to do Har-bear."

The three-year-old makes a face at the endearment then grabs my larger hand in his smaller one. I take one last look at him before focusing my complete attention on the ruined eggs in the trash. I imagine and focus on round, runny, white, round, runny, white, round, runny, whi...

"Whoop!" I hear Harry exclaim. I suddenly realize that my hand is empty. I open my eyes to see Harry grinning triumphantly at three floating eggs, perfectly together and still in their shells uncooked. Harry excitedly plucks one from its suspension and examines the reverted egg. He then looks up at me with such child-like wonder and excitement. "Duddy. Magic is amazing."

I agree. After I discovered my own gift I had been quick to explore it and all its possibilities (in secret of course). Even in my previous life I had always pondered the implications of magic and the difference between spoken spells and things like accidental magic. After much experimenting I discovered what I had always suspected, that magic was just heavy and concentrated focus and want. With those two factors understood most simple magic was easy to accomplish. Of course I have yet to experiment with a wand but I'm mostly positive that wands are just popular way to concentrate and focus the magic and intent that naturally exist to us. I figure that wandless magic and accidental magic alike take a much higher brain concentration and a more direct and untainted form of want. For example, between an adult and a child, a child would have a more pure form of want if they wanted a piece of candy. Whereas an adult on the other hand may have a more distributed want for that candy, not just for the sweetness but maybe because it would be more socially acceptable for them to eat that candy at the moment or the candy was given to them by someone special, etc… The point was that children have a naturally more focused and pure sense of want; it was more primal and instinctive. While adults… Their thoughts got too much at the way.

"Alright, let's do this."

I snatch the remaining two eggs from suspension and take a few wobbly steps over to the towering chair we placed. It's a bit of a struggle to climb onto the chair but I manage and help hoist Harry up too. He hands over the third egg and I put all three down to the side. I grab the cooling pan and place it on the back burner.

"First of all," I enter lecture mode. "Safety first. I honestly think you're too young to be cooking but since it's unavoidable we'll just touch up on the basics. The stove is very dangerous, you must always be sure to keep the handle of the pan in…"

And so went the rest of our morning, just learning how to make eggs. When we messed up we would just revive the eggs to their original pristine form, though I put a limit on that for fear of magical exhaustion. Harry ended up being pretty good at making eggs and I fried us up some sausages and enjoyed a nice peaceful brunch with my cousin. Petunia returned around one in the afternoon with her promised tarts, which I stole in my pockets and shared with Harry.

"Are you sure you've got everything Diddykins? Notebook? Napkins?" Petunia went on as she fusses over my outfit. I avert my eyes; lest she notices my thinly veiled exasperation. She honestly wouldn't be that bad of a mother if she would only just not give me everything I ask for. It was no wonder the original Dudley became so fat and spoiled. That and her treatment of Harry of course. I firmly stand by my opinion that she could've been a good mother to him if she had just let go of her petty childhood grudges.

"Mother," I sigh. "I'll be fine. I have everything I need."

Petunia bit her lip in worry. "Alright sweetums. But I really think you should eat another helping of breakfast. It's going to be a long day and I don't want you getting tired-"

"Mother."

She froze in her rambling. Her hands still gripping the lapel of my coat.

"I'll be fine. Lunch time won't be too long from now and I've got snacks packed for recess." I smile at her.

She sighs and releases me, "Alright then love. We better get going then. Can't be late for the first day of primary." She struggles to her feet. I watch as her thin and frail looking limbs shake to hold her up. If anyone should eat more it's her. "Off to the car then." Petunia suddenly furrows her brow and throws a stern and unpleasant look behind my shoulders. "You too."

I her tiny feet shuffling behind me to get into action. I sneak a peek behind me to see Harry struggling with a large pack and too large gray cloths. His hair is unkempt and while I find it endearing I know that Petunia doesn't like it one bit.

She clicks her tongue and turns her full attention to her nephew. "Now just wait a moment. Where do you think you're going looking like that. What will the neighbors think! They'll think we've not taken care of you, ungrateful child. You will clean up this instance or you'll not be leaving this house!" She crosses her arms, "Be glad we're even bothering to send your dimwitted brain to get educated. Fat lot of good it'll probably do."

"Yes awunt Petunia," Harry calls out right away. His face has turned a little red from embarrassment. This day was not off to a good start.

I would soon discover that the rest of today would not get much better.

At five, Harry and I are finally starting primary school, though I still struggle from calling it Kindergarten in my head. Petunia woke us up extra early though Harry was up before me and had already prepared a heaping breakfast for the walrus and I. The amount of grease and meat I had ingested made me feel nauseated. Already I can see myself filling out more than I want to but it's hard with food constantly being shoved onto my plate.

We arrived at school after the whole fiasco with Harry's appearance (nothing that couldn't be fixed with a small distraction from me and a little magic to clean him up). Immediately Petunia went up to the teacher and began to talk bad about Harry while somehow simultaneously singing praises about her "Diddykins." The teacher looked uncomfortable but seemed to take to heart that Harry was an untrustworthy rascal.

The real problems began after Petunia left.

While he was crisp and clean, Harry's lackluster outfit (outdated, too large, in shades of gray) painted him as the black sheep of our class. The other five-year-olds immediately pick up on the difference on him and childhood cruelty began.

"You look funny." A little girl sniffed eyeing Harry up and down. I remember her saying her name was Samantha. "What's wrong with you?"

I mentally flinch at the bluntness of her words. Harry looks crestfallen and is already closing in on himself. I'll need to help rectify the situation.

Before I can speak though another little boy steps in, "how come you got ugly clothes? Don't your Mum and Pa buy any for you?" Another little flinch.

"I- I don't have a Mum or Da…" Maybe I should step in.

The boy looks shocked and a little disbelieving, "Whot do you mean you ain't go no Mum or Pa? Everyone has a Mum and a Pa." He gives Harry a strange look that screams what is wrong with you?

Already children began gathering around us taking in the conversation coupled with Harry's outlier appearance. I feel anger spike in me but I remind myself that the children don't really mean anything by what they say. They haven't learned the tact or decorum to read the situation. I sigh as another child speaks up with another scathing review.

"Whot's your name anyways?" Says the boy from before. He has freckles and dark ginger hair. He reminds me almost of a Weasley. "I'm Justin Rooth!"

"Harry Potter…"

Justin makes a face of utter concentration as if Harry's name is a very puzzling riddle. Then he says, "At least your name isn't weird." Ouch, at least? "But I still don't get why you ain't got no parents." Okay. I'm stepping in now.

"Alright alright," I say holding my hands up disarmingly. I give the group of children a tight smile as I stand up, "Harry here lives with my Mom and Dad. They're his Aunty and Uncle." I walk over to Harry and put an arm around him. He flashes me an appreciative look.

"Okay, but where're his parent's then?" A new little girl speaks up. She's got two cute little blonde pigtails and she's wearing a pretty pink dress. I turn to look at her.

"Not everyone has a Mother and a Father, that's just how life is sometimes. You should be happy you have them because some people aren't so lucky." That seems to do the trick as the children's gazes soften up a bit.

"That sounds terrible," the girl cries out. She turns to Harry, "I am very sorry so let's be friends." At least it's good to know that children's logic will never make sense no matter what universe I'm in. "I'm Anthy Willbro. A pleasure to meet you Harry!" Anthy is rather well spoken for her age.

Harry flashes her a tentative smile, "I-it's nice to meet you too Anthy… Let's be good friends."

The other children exchange considering looks. The boy, Justin, suddenly declares, "I wanna be your friend too Harry!"

Then another, "M-me too!"

"I'll be your friend!"

And so a bunch of students began declaring their oaths of friendship towards a bewildered Harry. After only having me for so long it's no wonder he's overwhelmed by the sudden surge of companionship.

But like I said, the would not get better.

Class picks up when the teacher walks in and I have to sit through the beginnings of torture for my adult brain. And to think that I have to go through another few years of this. The first day isn't terrible, since all the teacher made us to was introductions and games, but all I want to do is run to the library and find a good book to read. At least Harry is happy.

The real trouble begins when recess is called.

I'm left in the dust when the happy group of Harry's new friends drag him out towards the playground. I take a more leisurely pace while gathering together snacks for Harry and I (I ignore the cupcake Petunia packed for me and grab an apple instead. I've noticed myself gaining more weight recently) before following the class. I slow my pace even more as I walk through the school, sharp gaze memorizing the layout. Bless this wonderfully absorbent child's brain. I vow to milk it's ability to learn for everything its got.

There is some commotion when I finally reach the playground. Asides from the few children too busy running around on the jungle gym, the rest of the students are gathered around the base of the monkey bars. It's a bit of a struggle to get closer since there were so many kids crowding, and even harder to hear anything since everyone apparently feels it necessary to talk at the top of their voices, but I manage to push my way through to the center of the gathering (more than two decades worth of living in a big city will give you some great crowd maneuvering skills).

I am unhappy at what meets my sight.

"-weird freak. That's wot ma Ma tells me," a little boy sneers down at Harry. Harry himself is in looking down at the ground with a frown and reddening eyes. I notice that our classmates are standing by looking quite uncomfortable. Apparently my little speech managed to stop them from joining in on the cruelty but after only one meeting with Harry their newfound "friendship" isn't strong enough for them to defend the poor boy among other aggressors yet. Children sure are fickle.

I decide not to wait around to to see it the situation improves on its own. I step forwards immediately, placing myself between my cousin and the bully.

"Excuse me," I settle the unknown boy with a cool glare, "but you're are making my cousin uncomfortable. I think he'd appreciate it if you left him alone."

The boy startles, jerking back at my sudden presence. He seemed a little shocked that someone would just get all up in his face out of nowhere. But after a second this shock seems to wear off because the boy glares back at me and takes a menacing step forwards. I don't move as he intrudes on my space. I've dealt with far more domineering adults than this pipsqueak before.

"My Ma says that he's a freak," the boy sneers at me. "That he does weird thing and is a de-de-delingcut."

A delingcut?

I frown, "You mean… A delinquent?"

"Y-yeah!" He sounds less sure of himself now that I've corrected him. Actually, he's gone red in the face a little too. "He's a delingcruent!" Close enough.

I sigh and realize this has Petunia written all over it. The boy's mother is probably one of my mother's tea mates. I thought Petunia was getting better with her animosity towards Harry but I'm apparently mistaken. Gossiping about a five-year-old as a delinquent to the neighbor? Does anyone in this family have any shame? Mother is probably going to do the same thing tomorrow at the big PTA meeting with other mothers and the teachers.

I suddenly realize that this is going to be a lot more work than I originally thought. Afterall, crowd control isn't exactly easy.

"Harry is not a delinquent," I drawl out. "He is my very well behaved cousin and I don't take too kindly to you insulting him in front of me. Apologize. Now. Or I'll call for the teacher."

The boy sputters in indignation, "Wot for! He's the freak!" He points an accusing finger at Harry, "Evorybody else agree wit me anyways! Right?" He looks around at the crowd of children peering in on the heated exchange.

A few other students raise their voices in agreement but most of them just look uncomfortable. By the way the boy's face turns more red, this clearly isn't the support he was hoping to get. He turns angrily towards on of the uncomfortable looking boys and demands, "common Dennis! Your Ma told you too right?"

Dennis bits his lips and hastily nods his head, "yeah. He's a freak." Children are such sheep.

The aggressor nods his head in glee vigorously, "Yeah! And you Malcolm? You know too right?"

This next boy I actually recognize. Petunia brought me to his house once. He's a rather large looking blonde boy whose possibly the broadest five-year-old I've ever seen. He doesn't even hesitate to vocalize his agreement, "Harry Potter is a freak." Oh great, this one knows Harry's name.

"Yeah! He's a freak!" The main boy -now I recognize him, he's also another boy I've see on Private Drive named Piers Polkiss. Piers starts yelling this out and slowly but surely murmurs of agreement and that damnable word "freak" is spreading among the children. Urgh, I'll never understand crowd mentality.

"Shut your mouth now Polkiss or I really will go get the teacher," I hiss angrily. The situation was getting way out of hand, I've already lost control of the entire thing. Manipulating a small classroom of children was much more manageable than this jungle of chaos. Had he not been such a cruel little tosser I would've applauded Piers on his talent for swaying a crowd. Sadly he is an absolute little demon and it's about time that I took Harry and I out of this crazy equation.

"Do it then," Piers dares, "its not like thems gonna do anything about that freak anyways."

I angrily snatch up Harry's quivering hand in mine and start pulling away from the situation. I also noticed it's much harder to keep the emotions in this tiny underdeveloped body in control. My breathing is heavy and I have to fight from turning around and give that brat a piece of my adult mind.

I lose that fight when the asshole kid actually has the audacity to shove my boy, MY HARRY, hard when we turn our backs. Harry knocks into me with a muffled oomph and I have to dig my feet into the ground to keep us both from falling face first into the dirt.

"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!" I shout loudly. There is a bunch of loud gasps -as well as plenty of confused voices for the more sheltered kids- as the voices die down from my exclamation.

Once I'm sure Harry can stand on his own I turn around abruptly and shove Piers hard in the chest. It's clear the boy didn't expect it because he falls straight back onto his ass. The vindictive side of me smiles with glee and cheers for more retaliation. I take a menacing step forwards towards the fallen boy and bare my teeth down at him.

"You're a bloody little wanker ya know? You have NO idea what I should do to you. How DARE you talk about Harry that way. How DARE you push him you fucking little brat," I'm seething in rage. I can see red in my vision. Later I will wonder if this was hereditary and if short tempers run in the family. "Piss off you little asshole!" My old American accent came through strong on this one.

The entire playground is silent with shock as I once again grab Harry's hand and drag him off. I feel a little more calm after having sworn up a storm. Man I miss doing that. Having to regulate my language is a real pain in the ass.

As we begin to walk off I suddenly hear an alarmed "Dudley!" from next to me and a whoosh of air. Something hard slams me in the back and a lurch forwards and fall to the ground. Suddenly there is another whoosh of air and I feel a bright pain blossom in my gut. I blink and see an enraged Piers Polkiss pulling his leg back for another kick. I quickly roll to the side making him miss and stagger to my feel. But a pair of hand behind me pushes me back to the ground and Piers once again moves in for a kick.

I grit my teeth and prepare for the blow when there is a blur of black and gray and suddenly Harry and Pier are on the ground rolling around wrestling for control. I've never seen Harry with such an angry expression on his face before. His mesmerizing green eyes are practically glowing with energy and raw emotion.

They roll around a little more, exchanging kicks and scratches along the way before, miraculously, the smaller Harry ends up straddling Piers beneath him and pulls back a taunt fist ready to punch the bully in the face and-

"-WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!"

Everyone freezes in their place. I didn't even notice that i was so tense until this moment. I relax my body and allow it to collapsed bonelessly onto the dirty ground.

The crowd of children part like the red sea to make way for a stern looking woman that I recognize as Principal Wilhelm from the pictures on the walls. She marches onto the playground with an aura of authority and settles a glare on the four of us. Piers, Harry, the person who pushed me down which I can now see is Malcolm, and me.

"There is to be no fighting on this campus," she eyes each of us harshly. "To think this is only the first day of school. What would your parents say?" There is silence. She sighs deeply expressing a depthless annoyance and says, "alright. Get up now. And follow me to my office. You are all in big trouble."

I suppress a groan. This was not how I pictured today going.

Principal Wilhelm was surprisingly reasonable and allowed each of us to explain our side of the story fully. Though she made it clear that we would each be punished for fighting regardless since there is a no tolerance rule. She sat through the entire story without interruption.

"-but I understand that I should've kept my temper," I say. "I shouldn't have said the things I did and egged Polkiss on. However, I do not tolerate bullying. Especially that of my younger cousin. Harry is such a sweet and gentle boy… It… It my my fault Principal Wilhelm. Harry was only defending me. He wouldn't have acted if I hadn't gotten involved. He would've just stood there and allowed the abuse to continue. I can't just stand by and allow some cruel bully verbally abuse him like that. I'll take responsibility for everything but please don't punish Harry." There's also the fact that Harry is punished on the regular basis already but I don't voice that thought.

Wilhelm makes a noise of understanding at the back of her throat before speaking, "Mr. Dursley. Im sure you already understand why I cannot do that. We do not tolerate any form of roughhousing here no matter what the circumstance."

"Even in self-defence?" I bite out harder than I intended.

She raises a brow at me, "From what I heard Harry tackled Piers on his own. He was… unprovoked. Do you understand what that word means Dudley?"

"I do…"

"Good," Principle Wilhelm hums. "You are a very well spoken and intelligent little boy Dudley. And I understand your concern for your younger cousin. Protectiveness of those we love is a good trait to have but… Too much of anything can be bad. Given your surprising comprehension I'll assume you'll understand what I am about to say. It is good that you worry and care so much for Harry. However, you may be stifling him."

I blink in alarm and open my mouth to protest, "I am not stifli-"

"Let me finish," she demands sharply. My mouth audibly clicks close. "You have only just begun Primary school. You both still have a good many more years to go. However, if you continue to hold Harry's hand through everything you will stunt his ability to stand on his own and stand up for himself. I understand you care much about him and you don't want him to get hurt. But if you continue this, you will hurt him in the long run. Harry needs some space to grow on his own."

I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable at the sheer truth in her words. Have I really been smothering Harry? But he has the entire world against him with only me on his side. A small frown plays at my lips and I refuse to meet Wilhelm's eyes.

She lets out another sigh and leans forwards on her desk, aged hands clasp together firmly. "Listen Dudley." I peek up at her slowly, "You are still a young boy. While your intellect and maturity is rather shocking, this is the time in your life to play and have fun. I am a sixty-year-old woman young man, trust me when I say that there will be plenty of time to be an adult later. For now, you and Harry should enjoy what little time you have as children. You may be smart for your age but you are still young and inexperienced. Let the adults take care of Harry."

Well, it isn't like I can exactly tell her that I'm, in fact, not a child. But she does make a good point. I am a child and it isn't like I got much of a childhood in my past life what with the family curse and all. But still… This woman doesn't know the happenings in the Dursley household. The poisonous attitude isn't just confined to 4 Private Drive either, at least until I manage to fix Petunia's attitude. It's getting better, but simply based on today's situation it's clear that vicious rumors are still being spread.

Apparently my silence has been going on for a good bit because Principle Wilhelm clears her throat and leans back in her seat. She gives me a knowing eye and says, "Though you will all be punished. Simply based on the stories I've heard and the fact that today is the first day of school I've decided not to inform your parent's of today's incident." My eyes widen as I take in her words. Wow, where was this woman in the Harry Potter series? She reminds me a little of Mcgonagall almost.

"Thank you ma'am," I nod my head vigorously. "I'll make sure to keep out of trouble and…" I bite my lip, "... I'll see about giving my cousin some space." Of course, that all depends on how the next few years go.

"Very well, you may return to class now. I trust you remember the way back?"

Sliding off the chair I meet her gaze square on, "Yes ma'am." Then I left the room.

Harry and I stand in the bathroom. We're waiting on Petunia to come pick us up soon since school ended fifteen minutes ago. I'm looking in the mirror feeling dread well up in my stomach as I stare at the dark blue bruise forming on my cheek. Probably from when Malcolm pushed me the the ground.

"Shit…" I mutter under my breath while prodding at the wound gently. Petunia is going to throw a fit. Never mind the other bruises I can feel forming beneath my clothes.

"Hurts?"

I look over at Harry. He's eyeing me with some foggy emotion in his eyes, but I can't place what that emotion is. I shrug, "Not really. Mom won't be happy though."

"Oh…" He says softly and looks away. I frown and follow his gaze.

"What's wrong Har-bear?"

"Isnothing…"

The corner of my lips pull down lower and I make my way over to where Harry is standing and lean in close to him trying to catch his gaze. "Hey hey, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

"It- it's just…" His voice grows thick with emotion and green eyes snap up to mine so fast that I nearly lurched back. "You're hurt because of me. It's my fault!" I can see that foggy look in his eyes are now tears forming. My mouth drops open and I'm left at a loss of words. Why does he think this is his fault? I'm the one that made Polkiss angry.

"What! No no no. It's not your fault Har-bear," I grab his arms feeling an urge to shake some reason into the small child. "I-I'm the one that made Pierrs mad. I'm the one that swore!"

"Yeah, but I'm the one that got you involved in the first place."

I swallow in surprise. Not only at Harry's surprising use of a big word like "involved" but also that he came to such a conclusion. Once again I cannot find my voice.

"Aunt Petunia is right," Harry continues, tears now streaming down his face. "I'm bad for you."

My heart is crushed beneath a heavy weight and I feel my own tears prickling at my eyes. Even after all I've done to try and make Harry's life easier, he was still struggling so much. I didn't mean to add to his burdens. I just want him to be happy. At first because he's such a cute kid and also a beloved character, but after nearly five-years of living with the boy I also have a personal investment in his happiness.

"Aw Harry," I say leaning in to give the crying boy a hug. I can feel him shaking in my arms as I continue, "Mom and Walrus are wrong about you. Har-bear you are the best thing that's happened to me in this life." I really mean it too. I've always been a very family orientated woman, first with my younger siblings and then with the image of a child I had hoped to one day have when I grew older. I lost both of those chances and now I have Harry. There is nothing more fulfilling in life than caring for and loving a child. "That situation today? That was partly my fault. But also Polkiss's for saying those horrible things to you. He was the one that threw the first punch." Well… Metaphorically speaking. Technically no actual punches were thrown.

I open my mouth to say more when I hear a familiar voice.

"Duddums? Are you in here baby?"

I momentarily panic, fingers flying to my injured cheek, as my mind flies away with excuses. I cannot tell her about the fight today, least of all that Harry was involved.

"Diddykins?" Petunia calls again, voice closer this time.

I'm about to answer when I feel another small hand cover my own on my face. I peer over at Harry who offers me a watery smile. His nose and cheeks are red and stained with tears but he stopped crying.

"Magic Dudley," is all he has to say before his face scrunches up cutely in concentration and slowly but surely I feel a warmth engulf my face.

"Wow," I mutter because this is Harry doing this all on his own. Normally we perform "accidental" magic in tandem to get better results. I especially struggle with it because I'm technically not a child, but Harry has a very natural affinity for it.

Within seconds the little tyke releases my face and opens his eyes. I glance over at the mirror and notice that the bruise is mostly gone, well enough that you probably wouldn't notice it unless I pointed it out. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that Harry looks rather tired.

"Dudley?" Petunia again, her voice is louder and laced with worry.

"In here Mum!"

I move away from Harry as her head peeks into the boys restroom. Relief colors her expression as she takes my form in, "Duddums, why didn't you answer me sooner?"

"Sorry Mum, was on the toilet."

"Well then, come on. I'm parked in the front," she says. "... You too Harry." Her voice is still a little hostile but at least she has the decency to call him by his name in public. We'll work on it.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry answers diligently having already wiped the tear streaks from his face. He still looks really tired after that display of magic and I'm a little worried that he'll collapse but he walks towards the exit just fine so I ignore it for now. I'll have to warn him about doing too much magic alone though. Magical exhaustion is a thing but I'm just not sure what it entails yet. Nothing good I'm sure. I just hope that there is no repeat of the disaster that was today.

As we walk to the car Harry and I notice a little pink figure waving to us in the distance.

"Bye Harry!" Anthy calls out from here her father is herding her into the car. She's jumping up and down, giving her poor father a difficult time attempting to buckle her in. But her wave is enthusiastic and her smile is bright and contagious. A warm feeling wells up inside me when I see Harry's own smile forming as he waves back at the girl. A stark difference from his red and crying face earlier.

Perhaps not everything today was a total disaster.

Summer is surprisingly quick to roll around. The first year of official schooling passes by faster than I thought it would. There had been a few more incidences along the way, but nothing as bad as that first day.

The good thing is that Harry is on relatively good terms with everyone in our class. Especially his budding friendship with little Anthy and her best friend (a tomboyish brunette) named Gabriella. The other classes… Those are another story. The class with Piers Polkiss in it is especially hostile towards Harry, and even more so towards me. The only other third class in our grade is rather neutral in this regard, with some students believing the vicious rumors and the others just wanting to stay out of the way.

My birthday was a couple of days ago, marking my sixth year in this new word. I once again had to struggle with cleaning up the mess of toys that the Petunia and Vernon felt necessary to buy me. A waste of money in my opinion because I had no interest in playing with toys made for toddlers. A couple of books would've been preferable, but that's what the public library is for I guess.

The only gift I can say I really appreciate is the 20 pounds I got in a birthday card from Aunt Marge. Roughly 25 USD if the exchange rate is still the same as couple decades from now. Petunia wanted to put it away for savings but I insisted on keeping it. She looked like she wanted to argue but Vernon's boisterous "let the boy buy something nice" and laughter kept her silent. One of the only times I've ever been grateful for his, honestly, terrible parenting.

I do want to spend it. It just isn't what Vernon probably thinks I want to spend it on.

I had to wait a couple of days before an opportunity arrived. Today Vernon has to stay at work late and Petunia has a get together to attend (though I had to reassure her multiple times that Harry and I would be fine home alone for the day). The moment I found out I quickly whispered to Harry to get the things ready.

Right after Petunia drove off Harry and I waited approximately ten minutes before he quickly grabbed the bags from under my bed and handed me the bus route map.

"Alright let's go." I slip the spare key from underneath the welcome mat (a terrible place to have it) and quickly lock up the house. Harry is counting out the loose change we've gathered over the year, enough for two bus tickets. I remind myself that I'll have to go and purchase bus passes eventually so that traveling won't be such a hassle.

The trek to the bus stop is rather short and we arrive within ten minutes of walking. The bus arrives not long after that and we both board with only a few curious glances from the driver. I direct our path towards the back of the bus where we'll attract less attention as two children traveling alone.

"So how do you know where to go?" Harry asks once we settle down comfortably. I love how inquisitive his is but sometimes it's a real struggle to figure out convincing covers for where I get my knowledge.

"Ah…" Like now would be a good example, I'm not really sure what I can say, "... I just do." I've used the excuse before but something tells me that Harry's getting a little too old for that lame answer.

Harry squints at me, the right corner of his lip quirks up in annoyance. "You always say that Dudley. I'm old enough to know that excuse doesn't work." Rats. "I mean... I won't push and make you tell me," bless his precious soul, "but…"

I look over at his hesitant voice, cocking a brow.

"... you know you can tell me anything right?" Harry peers up at me with those expressive eyes and I have to fight the urge to give in. Forget precious soul, Harry's a little devil who knows how to use his natural born weapons.

Still his words, more of a statement than a question, melts something in me and I smile softly at him, "Of course Harry. I… I'll tell you one day for sure. Just not right now."

He doesn't seem pleased with the answer but sighs and agrees, "That's alright I guess… But you have to pinky swear you'll tell me one day." Harry stares at me with a serious expression and holds his left arm out, pinky finger raised.

Pinky promises are a little silly since a hook of a finger doesn't make a promise more binding in anyway, but it tends to mean a lot to kids. I roll my eyes and hook my pinky around his, humouring him. I don't even know where he learned such a thing, certainly not from me. Anthy probably thought him. The preppy girl seemed like she would like these kinds of things.

Harry beams at me when our pinkies touch. He pulls our connected hands together in two large hand shakes (pinky shakes?) and disconnects from me. "There," he says, "now you can't break your promise."

I don't tell him that technically I can, instead I hum noncommittally. I'm still not sure if I want to tell him that I'm from another universe and that his entire world is a book in my old world. Scratch that, I really don't want to ever have to do that. Besides the fact that it'll probably have monstrous consequences and that people will think I'm crazy, but also because I'm not sure how that'll change Harry's perception of me. Right now he thinks of me as his cousin and best friend, but what would happen if he found out that I'm really not and that his real cousin was the worst bully in his childhood.

Not to mention the fact that me replacing the original Dudley could be akin to having killed the boy. It's a thought I usually purge from my mind since the idea that I could potentially be a murderer (intentional or not) doesn't bode well for my mental health. I'm Dudley Dursley and that's all there is to it.

It takes a while before we reach Charing Cross road, the multiple stops along the way only serve to drag the trip on longer. But we made it nonetheless. At least Harry wasn't bored at all on the bus like I had originally feared. The sights of inner London were enough of a fresh attraction to keep the young boy occupied especially while I was busy mapping the rest of our day out. Eventually the bus stops at our destination and we quickly exit off.

As soon as the bus takes off again I pull my bag off of my shoulder and rummage through the front section for the tub of concealer I stole off Petunia's vanity a couple months back. Harry eyes me questionably as I pull out the jar of makeup.

"This," I say holding up the container. "Is for that." I poke him in the center of the forehead. Harry pouts and bats my hand away leaving me to chuckle at his childish reaction.

"What for?"

I hum and instead of answering him I swipe a finger through the tan cream and proceed to rub it onto Harry's forehead. He attempts to bat my hands away again, clearly annoyed that I ignored him, but I just use my elbows to keep them at bay. At six and five, I'm already a lot taller and bigger than Harry. My arms have a longer reach and it's clear who is physically stronger as well.

Once I'm finished I cap the container, toss it back into the depths of my bag, and rub the excess cream onto my jeans. I zip up my pack and look at Harry again, he's still pouting and rubbing his head. "Sorry Har-bear, had to be done." This next part I whisper softer, "That may just be a scar to you and me but to the people of the wizarding world it means a lot more. It could cause us trouble it someone were to see it okay?"

Harry's glare softens a bit, "It that why we're using fake names?" I nod.

"Don't forget to keep up our cover okay? It'll be like a game." He seems to brighten up at the suggestion, "I'll tell you more when we get home alright?"

Harry rolls his eyes, far too used to my mysterious antics. "Fine. Let's just go already."

It isn't hard to spot the Leaky Cauldron, what with its old-timey wooden sign and general oldened appearance. Even in the late 80's it's a look in desperate need of remodeling. Though I suppose it probably helps in keeping out anyone who doesn't know it's true purpose.

A tug at my sleeve pulls me out of my musing and I look over at Harry pointing excitedly at something.

"Dud look," he whispers to me enthusiastically, I'll have to make sure he doesn't keep calling me that once we're inside. I follow his finger and spot a person walking. This particular person is getting some weird looks from regular street goers for wearing thick and long brown robes. Even though I already anticipated the wizarding fashion it's still a little funny seeing someone actually wearing something so ridiculous out in public.

I nod sagely at Harry, "Mm. That my little Ursa, is a wizard."

"Wow." His eyes are shining with glee.

"Ha. Wait till you see inside," I whisper. Actually, I'm also really excited to see Diagon Alley in person. It's one thing to see it on screen and knowing it will all just prop work and the magic of cinema, but it's another thing knowing that it's real.

Harry looks disappointed when we step into the Leaky Cauldron and it looks like nothing more than a slightly run down pub. He sends a little look of betrayal my way that I swiftly ignore in favor of walking up to the bar.

A man, who I'm assuming and hoping is Tom, is wiping down the bartop when Harry and I approach him. It takes him a second to notice our presence before he looks over and gives us his attention. He smiles kindly at us, "May I help you two lads?"

"Yes sir," I say taking the lead. "My brother and I are staying with a couple of our Muggle relatives. We're supposed to meet our parents at Fortescue's today and they told us to ask for a 'Mr. Tom' to help us open the gate to Diagon Alley?" A little wordy, but hopefully he'll buy the cover.

Tom purses his lip for a second before smiling, "Of course of course. Just let me finish cleaning up the counter and I'll open the entrance for you both."

"Thank you sir," I say politely.

"It's no problem at all," Tom waves me off. "I'm happy to help. You two boys have names?"

"Marco Evans sir," I answer immediately.

"Lyle Evans…" Harry answers more meekly clearly intimidated by the hulking pub owner.

Okay, so I may be guilty of borrowing Lily Potter's maiden name. But it was something that holds some significance to me that I won't likely forget. Marco also held a lot of significance to me as it was the name of my youngest brother from my previous life.

Tom made a approving noise at the back of his throats, "Nice names. I once knew a young girl with the surname Evans. Sweet child she was. Grew up to be a fierce and powerful witch." He gave us a crinkled smile, "Wouldn't happen to be related to a Lily Evans would you?"

I gave him a tight smile back as Harry gives me a curious glance. Living together has given him an edge in reading me over other people. While I'm sure Tom hasn't noticed anything else Harry clearly has noticed my subtle reaction to that name. "No sir. Maybe we're distantly related?"

"Perhaps-"

"Tom, can you help me with these glasses please?" An unseen voice calls from the kitchen, "I'm having a little trouble. Vixen has been rummaging through the glassware again. It's a bloody mess back here!" The person audibly lets out a frustrated groan.

Tom sighs and turns to face the kitchen and calls, "I'll be right there Darren. Try not to make the mess worse!"

A reply, "I don't think it's even possible to make this worse." The loud sound of glass shattering on the ground is followed by another groan. "Tom, please hurry."

The barkeep turns to face us again and offers an apologetic smile, "Sorry lads. Duty calls. If you could just wait a couple of minutes this shouldn't take too long." Harry isn't even listening as he leans up to try and get a look into the kitchen.

It's a little setback but we should have plenty of time. I open my mouth to answer Tom when another voice speaks up from behind me first.

"I can take them through Tom. My brother and I were just heading for Diagon Alley anyways."

I turn to face the new speaker as Tom replies, "Ah Willam, good to see you lad. Thank you so much. The help is much appreciated." He scrambles to pick up some stray things and starts rushing towards the back. "You two boys should be fine with William, he'll show you the way." He then hurries off to help in the kitchen.

When I'm faced backwards I'm met with a shock of red. I blink in surprise as I take in the form of two people who are without a doubt members of the Weasley family. The two boys in question are much older than Harry or I but clearly still in their teens. The younger of the two looks to be just entering his teenage years or very early into it, with a round but strong face and rather stalking and broad for his age. The older one would probably be well into high school placing him at around 15 or 16 in terms of age, he has long shoulder length (bright, so bright) hair and is much more slender looking than his younger sibling. Both of them offer Harry and I disarming smiles.

"Hello boys, I'm William Weasley," the older one says. "But you can call me Bill, it's what everyone calls me. And this," he gestures to the younger Weasley, "is my brother Charlie. I heard you two wanted to get into Diagon Alley?"

"Yes please, if you would be so kind," I answer. "My name's Marco Evans. This is my brother Lyle. Pleased to meet you Bill, Charlie." Harry murmurs similar greetings next to me.

"It's very nice to meet you too," Bill flashes us a charming smile before gesturing towards a hidden wall towards the back of the pub. "Come along then. Charlie and I were just about to head through to finish shopping for some school supplies for the upcoming year at Hogwarts." It's at this point that I notice the large cotton shopping bags each of the brothers are holding and what looks like heavy books hiding inside. "Though I suppose you two are too young to be going to Hogwarts," a laugh, "what brings you both to Diagon Alley?"

Harry beats me to the answer, "Meeting with Mum and Pa for ice cream." I send him a questioning look as we begin walking and he just shoots me a discreet -mischievous- grin. Cheeky brat. Though I suppose I'm a little impressed at the sudden initiative he's taking.

"Wow, that sounds nice," Charlie makes an excited noise. "Haven't gone to Fortescue's in a long time. Don't suppose we could hit it up later Bill?"

Bill has his wand out and is tapping a specific sequence with it on the stone wall, "Maybe. Ma only gave us so much money though, we'll have to see how much we have left over after getting everything." The pockets his wand and the brick wall begins to fold and shift around, revealing a passageway. I watch the display of magic with awe. Harry, similarly, makes a giddy noise as he watches.

There's a chuckle and I look up to see Bill staring down at us with amusement. "First time?" He asks. I can only nod and he laughs.

If we thought the doorway was amazing, it was nothing compared to the magnificence of Diagon Alley in person. Bill and Charlie actually had to stop and watch us both in amusement as Harry and I took in all the amazing sights and feats of magic. There is just so much amazingness happening that I can't quite believe my own eyes. Our gasps and expressions of awe continue even as we begin walking again.

"Ya know," Charlie says walking closer to me as we step through the shopping district. "Bill is gonna be Head Boy." He loudly whispers it so that all of us can hear, there's a playful grin playing at his face as he glances over at his older brother.

"I am not. Stop spreading nonsense to children," Bill reprimands bashfully while Harry asks at the same time, "What's a Head Boy?" My baby cousin has had a strong interest in anything Hogwarts related ever since I first mentioned the magical school to him.

Charlie eagerly jumps at the question much to the annoyance of his brother if Bill's groan is any indicator. "Head Boy is a Hogwarts student handpicked by the Headmaster himself to be an example and lead the rest of the students. You have to get really good grades to become Head Boy -and girl of course, and also be a good role model."

Harry's eyes are wide with interest, he looks over at Bill suddenly and asks with reverence, "And you're Head Boy."

Bill has an embarrassed blush on his face as he answers, "No. Of course not. Charlie is just talking some hogwash. I was made prefect this year which does give me some responsibilities like a Head Boy or Girl, and it does mean that there is a chance that I may be made Head Boy in seventh year but I am in no means a Head Boy."

Harry blinks again, "What's a prefect then?"

"A prefect is…" Bill purses his lips, "Well. I suppose a prefect is rather like a Head Boy. But there are more of us and we have less responsibilities and authority. Students have to listen to us, but we have to listen to the Head boy and girl." Harry nods in understanding.

"That's really cool," the young boy says sincerely to the older Weasley. "I can't wait to go to Hogwarts myself."

This seems to take some of the embarrassment away from the surprisingly bashful Bill. He almost seems touched by Harry's compliment, "You'll go soon. It won't be that long from now I'm sure. How old are you Lyle? Four?"

"I'm turning six next month!" Harry declares proudly. I would chuckle at the answer if not for Bill's comment striking something in me as I notice how much smaller Harry is than the rest of our class. He's healthy and definitely more filled out than he had been in the previous timeline but I fear that he still isn't eating enough. Bill isn't wrong, Harry does look like he's four.

"Oh, well congratulations," Bill says. He glances over to me, "Are both of you five then?"

I shake my head, "I turned six last month. Lyle's two months younger than me." I notice Fortescue's in the near distance.

"I'm surprised you're both alone," Charlie comments. "Mum would never let any of us off on our own like that. She's only letting Bill and I shop by ourselves this year because he's gonna be a prefect." Well that explains the absence of the Weasley matriarch, she has alway struck me as a very overbearing mother who rarely lets her children out of her sights. It's no wonder the twins and Ron let loose and take so many risks during their Hogwarts year, and it also explains why Percy Weasley is the exact opposite in this being overly neat instead of rambunctious.

I shrug, "Mum and Pa know we're mature enough to take care of ourselves. We go a lot of places by ourselves."

"Yeah yeah!" Harry chimes in, "We're always going and doing things alone!"

I shoot him a warning glare, not wanting to blow our cover but Harry just smiles. Clearly enjoying this game.

"That sounds like heaven," the younger Weasley bemoans. "I wish Ma would let us do that more often."

"Don't whine Charlie," Bill sighs. "It's unbecoming. Also Ma just cares a lot about us." He sends us a concerned glance, "Not that I'm suggesting your parents do not care a lot about you two of course. I'm sure they really do."

I just smile and say, "Don't worry about it. There's no offense taken." We're right in front of Fortescue's now, "It looks like this is our stop. Thank you for showing us the way Bill and Charlie. It was really great meeting you both."

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you!" Harry pipes up. I have to wonder where this sudden burst of confidence is coming from. Usually Harry is a rather reserved and quiet child.

"It was nice meeting you both too," Bill says with a warm expression. "Hopefully we'll meet again."

"Bye Marco. Bye Lyle!" Charlie says waving us off as they walk away. Harry and I wave back, though Harry's is much more enthusiastic than mine.

We wait several minutes until we can't see hide or hair of bright orange. Then I lead us both away from the ice cream shop. There'll be plenty of time to enjoy some leisure time later.

I wanted to head for Gringotts as fast as possible before I quickly realized that that wasn't going to happen. Instead, I let Harry enjoy his walk through the magical district, slowing perusing past the amazing shops and interesting sights as we headed for the magical bank. We aren't pressed for time, but I still worried that we may take too long. Eventually we reach the bank though.

Harry takes in the sight of the slanted building and strange architecture with a curious expression on his face. His opens and closes his mouth several times before glancing over at me, "Dud. I know magic can do amazing thing but… That," he points at the bank. "Architecturally shouldn't be possible." He struggled a bit on the word "architecturally" but I'm proud of his for using it anyways, though I had been surprised when he took a sudden interest in my architecture books. "I mean… why?"

I shrug, "Maybe they don't know how to build buildings in the wizarding world." Now that I think about it, it wasn't like they taught a math class besides arithmancy for third years and up as an elective. Something tells me that most architecture in the wizarding world is done through magic. Which is honestly a rather crippling weakness. These people are so reliant on magic.

After agreeing that wizards are just plain weird both of us walk up the flight of stairs (a rather difficult task for two tiny six-year-olds) and enter the building. We're greeted by a large bustling bronze and marble hallway. Witches and wizards walking around with a sense of purpose and direction as they filtered through the crowd, into teller lines and in and out of the various back offices. Harry makes a curious noise when he spots the Goblins glaring down at their work from the teller stations. I'm rather interested too as I late in the tiny, menacing looking creatures all wrinkles and sharp edges. I can see why a majority of the wizarding world finds the goblins a prickly bunch if this was only how they looked. From memory I know that they can be much worse and much more unpleasant than their outer image would already indicate. I can only hope that the next few hours go over alright.

I have dealt with my fair share of unsavory lawyers and contractors from my previous life. But I'm not sure how I'll fare against these harsh looking beings.

"This way Harry," I call to my cousin briskly as I spot an empty teller station. I grab his hand with all intentions of heading straight for station when a voice jars me to a stop leaving me suddenly feeling drained and worried.

"Harry? Harry is that you?" Says an unknown voice behind us.

A/N

Edit*Thank you so much to XIV - La Temperanza for pointing out a terrible mistake where Dudley refers to Harry as "Harry" instead of "Lyle" to the Weasley brothers. :P

Soooooo…. It's been a while. Like… A year hahahaha…. But it's not like I HAVEN'T been working on this story. This is literally like the fifth draft of chapter two I've done. I've also written a lot of drabbles for future scenes and chapters that I've got mapped out in my head. I'm just really bad with sitting down and writing my heart out haha...

But seriously though. Sorry for the long wait for those that read Chapter One and were excited for more and were disappointed when I did not provide. I can't promise that I'll ever have speedy updates but I'll try my best. So this is an extra long chapter for ya'll. Hope you enjoyed. :)

~Thefirecrest

(Please leave a review on your way out 3)