Me: I suppose I should put the disclaimer and all? Seeing as I don't own Harry Potter?
Lawyer: Yes. The only person that dosn't have to put one is JK Rowling
Me: What if I am JK Rowling?
Lawyer: You're not
Me: ... How do you know
Lawyer: You're not JK Rowling
Me: tear
Aunt Petunia stood there, rather nervously hurrying them in
Aunt Petunia stood there, rather nervously hurrying them in. Her hair was greyer and she seemed thinner. But to Harry's surprise, he didn't fins her half as intimidating as he had as a teenager. Once they were into the foyer, Aunt Petunia jerked her head at James, saying, "You said nothing about bringing an infant." She then eyed Ginny's enlarged belly as if she wanted to remark about that, too.
Ginny cleared her throat, reminding Harry that she had not been formally introduced. "Oh yeah, this is my Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia, this is my wife, Ginny," he said, putting his arm around Ginny, "and our son, James." He motioned to now fussing one-year-old James. Petunia merely sniffed, then with a jerk of her head led them to the sitting room. There seemed to be an overgrown walrus on the couch, which turned out to be Uncle Vernon. His face, purpler than ever, swiveled around to survey Harry. The beady eyes narrowed as they fell on Ginny, the baby in her arms, and the obvious pregnancy. Harry then introduced her and James once more. Vernon turned his head back, which Harry took as a cryptic direction to sit on the loveseat opposite the couch. As he and Ginny settled down, Petunia sat primly in an upholstered chair. After considerable silence, Ginny decided bravely to strike up conversation.
"So, how are you?"
Before Aunt Petunia could open her mouth, Uncle Vernon had rudely responded, "No need to ask what you've been doing." Vernon motioned to James and Ginny's stomach, a nasty smile on his lips. Harry had to fight the strong urge to get to his feet and hex Uncle Vernon into eternity. Sensing this, Ginny laid her arm across Harry's legs. She didn't seem the least bit offended by Vernon Dursley.
"Actually, we have been busy," Ginny said carefully. Taking this completely incorrectly, Aunt Petunia's mouth fell slack. "I mean," Ginny continued, "Harry with all his Auror work (you know he's head of the department!) then my retirement from the Harpies, and now the workload with the Daily Prophet."
Harry realized, hiding a smile, that Ginny was purposely angering or confusing Petunia and Vernon. After all, they hardly recognized a word she said.
"Then between that," Ginny plowed on, "was our wedding. And James, of course. Now, there is another on the way!" Harry had been around Hermione and Ginny enough to recognize this as the 'jealousy' attack. Sure enough, it seemed to be working.
"A wedding?" Petunia said in a distant voice. Harry didn't see why she seemed so troubled. Even if they had invited her, surely she would not have gone?
Harry sensed that it was his turn to continue. "Yes, two years ago. Then, one year ago, we had James." He ignored Uncle Vernon's grumblings of, "didn't waste much time, did you?" Hastening on, Harry said, "Ginny was playing quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies. You know, quidditch, the game on brooms." Harry said this to see just how pursed Petunia's lips would go. "Now she writes for our newspaper, the Daily Prophet, in the quidditch section."
"And tell them what you do, Harry." Now, Ginny seemed to enjoy torturing the Dursleys as much as Harry did.
"I'm an Auror. Kind of a wizard, secret agent, sort of thing." He saw the expression on Vernon's face darken. He had said the 'w' word.
In an intensely cheerful voice, Ginny said, "So, what've you been doing?" There was a silence where it was obvious nothing would be said.
"Mum," called an oddly familiar voice from upstairs, one Harry thought he would never hear again, "is there somebody visiting?"
Heavy footsteps sounded down the stairs. There in the living room stood a rather sturdy blonde young man, looking better than Harry had ever seen him.
"Harry!" roared Dudley Dursley, "I thought I'd never see you again!"
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