Companionship
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Harry leaned against the doorframe as Llian rummaged through the Dursley's medicine cabinet. June sat on the counter and patted her knees carefully with a wet towel.
"We really appreciate this," Llian said, as he found some gauze and antibiotic cream. "Most people in this part of town would have shut the door in our face. You should have seen the look this couple gave us when they drove by. It's like they've never seen runners before."
"Oh, they've seen them, all right," June said wryly. "But only in air conditioned gymns, with televisions blaring overhead."
Llian gave a mock-gasp. "Are there really such things? Is that what. . .normal people do?"
Harry laughed. "It's true," he said. "I've been doing my Aunt and Uncle's gardening for the past fourteen years, give or take a few, and I've yet to see any one of the Dursleys step foot outside during the summer heat." He thought of them driving away in their car a few weeks ago, not even a backwards glance to their nephew.
"You live with your Aunt and Uncle?" June guessed.
"Er, I'm kind of an orphan, I guess. They took me in because. . .well, I've not a clue why seeing as how much they. . .well." Harry felt like an idiot; what kind of person starts to give his life story to relative strangers?
But Llian brightened. "We're orphans, too! But it's great; no Aunts or Uncles for us, just me and June and the open road." He slipped into a painfully obvious American accent.
June seemed to find this delightfully funny. "Llian, do you have to cover up the wounds completely? Shouldn't it be better to air them out?"
"Listen to this sicko! I'm on to you, you just want your bloodied knees on display for the whole world to see."
"They're battle wounds!" June insisted.
"I see," Harry interjected. "Marks of bravery. Very Gryffindor." The words slipped out before he realized what he was saying, but luckily the twins (or just siblings) kept on talking.
Llian complained about his sister's penchant for masochism. "This one thinks injuries make her a real person. Last time she got blisters she wore sandals around for weeks just to show 'em off."
They moved into the living room, where Harry remembered years of training at being a "gracious host" and offered them glasses of water. Llian took huge gulps while June sipped tentatively.
Despite being off-put originally by Llian's menacing appearance, Harry found both the siblings very open and likeable. They talked easily, but never, he noticed, about anything personal.
"Yes, we're twins," Llian confirmed. "Or at least, that's what we call ourselves. We actually didn't meet until we were eleven, but after that it was fate. . ."
They told him about different places they'd been: Austrailia originally, then Bali, Calcutta, Austria, Florence, and finally the States. "There're a couple of schools here that we're looking into," June said, but neither said what they were doing in Little Whinging. As far as Harry could tell they were nomads drifting through.
They talked about sports; Llian in particular liked to complain about American football. "You'd think it was the only sport in existence, the way people go on over there. I mean, at least Quidditch--"
Llian stopped, flustered, but Harry relaxed and said, "Yeah, Quidditch is really awesome."
After that it was as if they had been friends their entire lives. They talked about the Magical versus Muggle world, and different Quidditch brooms, and familiars, and the recent trolls uprising in Finland.
"Llian is a historian," June supplied. "He pretends it's because he's academic and pretentious, but it's really only because he likes blood and gore."
"Look who's talking," Llian countered. "This girl has a thing for horror movies; she's even written some horror stories herself."
"You're a writer?" Harry asked.
June shrugged.
They ate sandwiches together in the Dursley's sterile kitchen as the light outside dwindled and finally disappeared.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you anything else," Harry apologized. He didn't know when the Dursleys would come back or how he would get more food. Thank Merlin for Hedwidge and Mrs. Weasley.
"We've had worse," Llian said.
They tried to bake a cake afterwards, despite Harry's lack of ingredients. June seemed to sense Harry's discomfort with using a lot of food, and promised to come back the next day with groceries. "We wouldn't want to eat you out of house and home." Neither of them asked where the Dursleys were, or why there was nothing in the fridge except for jam and stale bread.
"Does Hogwarts accept transfer students?" Llian asked after a break in conversation. June held her breath.
"I dunno," Harry answered honestly. "I suppose they do." Most "transfers" already had family who were going or had gone to Hogwarts, so it wasn't a big deal for them to enter late.
They spent the rest of the night flipping through the telly, trying to find the most ridiculous shows. Llian wanted to watch a documentary, but June shot down that idea with a shouted, "Boring!" They finally settled on a 1950s black and white horror movie. "See his zipper!" June shouted triumphantly when the monster turned his back to the camera.
Harry realized with a start that it was already past 1am. "You guys might as well stay here for the night. No sense in running several miles in the dark."
"Awesome, it'll be just like a slumber party," Llian said, throwing his arm around Harry. Harry found himself laughing harder than he meant to. He was happy that they would spend the night and glad, strangely, that June had tripped in the first place.
But June suddenly shivered. "I don't want to stay here. We haven't showered or anything."
"Since when are you the poster-girl for hygiene?" Llian shot back.
"I just. . ." Llian stopped smiling for a second as June continued. "I don't know." She smiled wearily at Harry. "Thank you so much for everything, I guess we will crash down here."
"Oh no," Harry argued. "There's a guest room, and my cousin's bedroom--"
"We'll be fine," Llian said. "I'll take the couch and June can have the recliner. You see, she has this special talent where she can sleep in any position at any time, even standing on her feet. Once she feel asleep in the middle of class with her eyes wide open and her hand still writing."
"It was only nonsensical squibbles!" she said.
"It was still amazing. Many people have lived and died without seeing such a feat." June seemed to have gained back her humor at Llian's words and started giggling.
"If you're sure," Harry said.
"Yes, me and my talented dreamer will be just fine down here." He hugged June close as Harry left for his own bed.
Half an hour later, with his face pressed against the pillow, Harry realized that he never found a chance to talk to June alone. He still didn't know if she was the girl was his dream, and, more importantly, whether she recognized him. Llian had talked about her sleeping, and then called her a talented dreamer. Unable to make sense of it, Harry drifted off to sleep himself.
------
So this was the great Harry Potter. Llian had read about him in books, of course. Most books on the so-called Modern Dark Age mentioned the story; Llian was sure he knew more about it than Harry himself. Even with the scar right in front of him, it had taken Llian a while to connect Harry with The Harry. Llian felt sorry for him, living, obviously neglected, on the edge of suburbia, without any friends or magical companions.
He had known for a week that he would meet Harry. June had fallen asleep in the living room a week ago, and when Llian tried to pry the book from her sleepy arms, she woke long enough to say, "Harry. I've never met someone named Harry before."
"Harry?" He gave the book a final tug. It was on the art of writing.
"He was at my place, at my Rock." June had long ago told him or her ability to dream lucidly. She could make places in her head and then visit them any time she wanted. She could catch glimpses of the future or past. Llian had often urged her to learn more about her powers, but she always resisted.
"You don't understand," she always said. "I see so many different things in my dreams, it would be impossible to sort out what's in the past or the present or the future, and which is even in this continent or this dimension."
"But it's a gift," Llian said, "and a bloody useful one, too."
June always looked pained when Llian argued about her dreams. "I don't want to know any more about them. They are. Besides, it didn't help our mum any to know about them. She's still just as dead."
So when June half-woke to murmur a strange boy's name, Llian had been half-forgetful, but half-frightened. Was this something important? Would it change their lives? Save them from the torture of moving yet again to a new place with new troubles?
"He found his way to Dreamtime," June murmurred. "No one's been there with me before. When we see him we can. . ."
"We can what?" Llian pressed.
June shivered. "Dark, dark - something about him scares me. He's powerful. Power. Dark." She drifted back to sleep.
------
Llian gave up trying to sleep and turned over to see the entire living room. June was wide awake and staring at him from the recliner. "Can't sleep?" she said. Llian could barely see her in the dim shadows cast by furniture. The streetlight outside flickered for a second, and then was still.
"Not really. What was that about earlier, your not wanting to stay? A premonition?"
June shrugged. "Dunno." She sighed. "It's definitely the same boy. But he acts so strange, so open and friendly. Like he's hiding depths he doesn't know about."
"Whatever," Llian muttered. He had found Harry pretty straightforward. But she was right, at the same time - there was more to him.
He watched him sister, her skin pale, almost glowing. How beautiful she looked at night, he thought. But so lonely. He lifted up his blanket. "Come here," he urged.
June got up and crawled under the cover. Her hands and feet were cold. She curled up against him, her head on his chest. He stroked her back until her breathing deepened. As exciting as June's dreams and premonitions could sometimes be, he wished that his sister could have restful dreams, for once.