It had been as Harry had been lying across his bed in his minuscule room reflecting on the fact that he had family he did not know about in the form of a Godfather who was on the lam that the idea had come to him. His parents and his Aunt obvioulsy hadn't sprung from the aether fully-formed, so what of his other family? Where were they, and why hadn't he seen or heard from any of them? He'd seen a great deal of relatives who may have been real or imaginary in the Mirror of Erised back during his First year, so he knew that they or at least someone who filled similar roles as the mirages he'd seen in the mirror had to have existed. What had become of them? What of his grandparents' siblings? What of their children, and their children's children who should be his age?

After grabbing a quill, some ink, and a bit of parchment before he could start doubting and second-guessing himself, he had written a letter to one of his theoretical relatives listing who he was, who his parents were, and the names of his deceased Maternal grandparents, seeing as he didn't know what his Paternal grandparents had been named (Something he'd have to ask Sirius about later). Once the letter was finished, he addressed it, tied it to Hedwig, and rather impulsively asked her to seek out a close relative from his mother's side of the family first before looking for his father's side. He didn't exactly know why he'd done that, other than to maybe prove to himself that they couldn't all be like Aunt Petunia and that spoiled lump that was rather unfortunately his cousin.

Several days passed. Days which had started off with anticipation and excitement which steadily shaded towards disappointment as Harry began to despair of Hedwig ever finding a living relative of his and returning with a reply. Nobody had come to claim him before then, and, considering how many times his relatives had stated that they had wanted to get rid of him, there had to be a good reason for why that was.

Eventually, when he was beginning to give up hope of ever seeing Hedwig again before the Summer ended, there was a knock at the door.


When he had somewhere to be and something to do, Hans Evans had found it surprisingly easy to get his hands on a wand and get out of Germany. He'd fully expected the German Ministry to come calling with extreme prejudice after he'd nicked a wand from some ratlike tourist he'd run into in a pub, but considering the fact that it had been chaos after the War, he hadn't been all that highly ranked, and it had been the Americans who'd taken his wand and thrown him into prison the first time, it was entirely possible that he'd been entirely forgotten about. Some of the Grindelwalden had slipped back into their lives since with few being any the wiser after-all.

As he made his way to Little Whinging, going the Muggle way since he couldn't afford to be arrested by Wizards - especially with a stolen wand in his possession - he wondered what his niece's son would be like. Based on the letter, the boy sounded very much like his youngest brother, a simple, mostly kind-hearted, but brave boy. His youngest brother who had been everyone's favorite since he was the baby of the family had been lost to him like all the rest long ago, and he seriously regretted the terms under which he and his siblings had parted.

He was one of two magicals amongst his siblings, his older sister being the other. All of their other siblings had ranged from being somewhat leery of their magic to being exceedingly jealous and somewhat spiteful of them for it, especially when they heard his sister's stories about Beauxbatons and how wonderful it was compared to the village schools they were forced to attend. Despite this hostility, he had been on speaking terms with the rest of the family until he'd accidentally let slip that his leader's goals and those of the Fuhrer didn't coincide. Finding out that their brother had A) bullshitted his way into a better position in Grindelwald's army than any other muggleborn would've gotten by pretending that he was related to a nearly extinct British wizarding family named Evans and unrelated to his blonde sister who'd never made a secret of the fact that she was Muggleborn and B) joined an evil wizard who was planning to wrest the Reich away from them the minute Hitler succeeded had rather soured relations between him and the family.

Pulling himself out of memories that were best left forgotten, Hans started focusing on the here and now. After a great deal of wandering about a neighborhood that made him long for prison, which wasn't anywhere near as rigidly uniform as this place, he finally found Privet Drive and made his way up it to a house which was making a great deal of effort to not stand out from the rest. He had ended up hesitating at the door for a moment, wavering over whether or not he should knock considering the fact that his family had told him to stay away, and eventually deciding to knock since he'd come all this way and the least he could do would be to greet his brother's magical grandchild who'd reached out.

After a wait that seemed eternal due to his apprehension, the door was answered by a blonde woman who looked just enough like an Evans that he could tell she was related, though he did wonder exactly what his brother had married in order to produce a child who looked that much like a horse. The woman's eyes widened comically upon catching sight of him. He had some idea as to why though, seeing as, aside from the fact that his eyes were blue-green rather than emerald green, he nearly looked like his younger brother's twin.

The woman's mouth opened and closed several times, yet no sound came out. "Wh-who...?" the woman eventually managed in a squeaky voice.

"You would be Petunia then?" he said, knowing full well that she was, since she couldn't be anyone else.

"I'm Petunia." the woman said, now on firmer ground.

"And, I'm your uncle Hans." he said, getting straight to the point and giving her his most disarming smile, using his first name like the English would, rather going by his middle name due to how common the name Hans was. Almost everyone in and around Germany who was named Hans went by their middle name.

"I don't have an uncle Hans." Petunia said, her expression becoming hostile.

"I guess I was a subject that was too painful for my brother to bring up." he said sadly and almost wistfully, wishing that had been the case, rather than the fact that his family was too angry with him to even mention him. "Considering what we'd been through, I would be very surprised if he said very much about his past."

Based on the woman's expression, she was likely imagining something far more heroic and a great deal more tragic than the truth. Giving him a very sad look that he was certain was meant to impress him with its sympathy since it was obviously lacking sincerity, the woman stepped aside and allowed him into the house where his brother's magical grandson lived. As she led him into the sitting-room, she rather nervously offered him something to drink. After accepting her generous offer, he watched her disappear to the kitchen before turning towards the stairs where instincts that hadn't completely vanished over the last forty-nine years had told him that someone was trying to hide.

Looking up into the shadows, he caught sight of a small dark-haired figure that was swamped in clothing which was little more than rags. The figure, upon noticing that he'd been noticed, rapidly shot back down the upstairs hallway from whence it came. A moment later, his niece appeared with a small tray that had two cool drinks on it in deference to the Summer heat. While she'd been gone, he had taken the time to explore the sitting-room that she had led him to. He was still standing, looking at the knick-knacks that graced the fireplace shelves when she'd arrived, and he'd taken the drink which had been proffered.

"Where have you been all this time, and why haven't I heard of you before?" his niece asked, cutting straight to the chase rather than trying to make small talk with a relative she'd never even heard of before he'd shown up on her porch several minutes earlier. That was the Evans way however, and he decided to take the fact that she wasn't treating him like an outsider as a good sign despite the fact that he wasn't entirely certain he wanted it to be, considering what he'd seen of this woman's character on the trip from the porch to the sitting-room. What people kept, and didn't keep said more about them than their words, and this woman was...twisted.

After a moment during which he pretended to have a hard time finding a place to sit order to gather his thoughts and mentally compose what he was going to say.

"The family and I had a falling out long ago, and I stayed in Germany when most of the others left. I lost track of your father after our former schoolteacher whom your father was rather fond of told me he had moved to London." he said as soon as he was seated with a drink in hand. "I always thought it was funny, him moving to London like that, seeing as he'd bombed it."

Based on his niece's thunderstruck expression, she obviously hadn't known. Oh well.

Edited 7-18-15.