Hello. Managed to get this chapter up quicker than I expect. All the better since there's other things that need doing.

Disclaimer: I'm broke. Flat broke.

BASED ON THE HARRY POTTER NOVELS BY JK ROWLING

Nearly twenty minutes had passed since Camellia saw her mother leave and it had been exactly ten since the girl began to panic. No matter how many times she dialed Mrs Figgs would not answer. The line would ring and ring until the girl hung up and tried again. No light shown in from the window anymore so Camellia's fingers moved by memory. Without light, the smiling faces on the Dursley family pictures soon disappeared along with their wooden frames. Everything except the plastic sheen of the house phone became grey and black blurs. Camellia hated them. To her young mind they moved with the ticking of her wrist watch. The large hand continued its laps completely disregarding the gravity of the situation as if time were an infinite resource. It paid no heed to the fact Camellia sat alone on her mother's bed.

Would Mrs Figgs even return to her home, she inevitably wondered? What if the old woman was asleep in her bed and no matter how many times the phone rang she would not hear it? The little girl's breathing began to quicken. Nothing about tonight was right. Camellia did as her mother often told her and took a long deep breath. Panic was not a productive emotion, according to both her mother and her comic book heroes. It made us unresponsive and compliant in the face of death. There was much in the stories she read that Camellia didn't understand but death was all too obvious to her. Death is what happened when you stepped on a bug or when that stray dog was hit by a falling brick. Camellia did not want Harry to die.

She hung up the phone. A half hour was enough time wasted on a doomed project, Camellia reasoned. Be proactive, not reactive, as her father liked to say. Camellia stood up and ran to her own room. From underneath her mattress she produced a notebook and pen. Dearest Father, she wrote on a blank page. Harry ran off and Mother went to find him. She wanted me to tell Mrs Figgs what happened but I can't reach her by phone so I'm going to her house. Mother says to order takeaway. Your obedient daughter, Camellia. She looked her short letter over. Papa liked it when she was formal. Hopefully it would lessen the blow of arriving to an empty house. Camellia tore out the page. She didn't bother to hide her notebook afterwards, it seemed a pointless thing to do with everything else already on her mattress.

Her trip down the stairs and to the front door was easier than she'd expected. Too often she'd seen in stories that the moment before some great undertaking the would-be hero was hesitant. It was a theme so common Camellia assumed it a universal truth. Instead she felt an odd sort of excitement. Now that her cousin was not crying and her mother was no longer screaming, she felt no distractions. In front of her was a thing to be done. There was no one to appeal to and failure would mean something terrible, so every decision was made for her. The note would be left on the tele as Papa liked to watch the evening news. Her coat was still on the coat rack right next to the extra set of house keys.

It was colder outside than she remembered. Or perhaps it was that she'd been inside for too long. Neither made much difference in the scheme of things but nevertheless Camellia cursed her own weakness. That women's natural state was frailty did not mean Camellia had to be happy about it. For all her size… At any rate, it was cold and Camellia did not like that it was cold. The sun had set so there were only the streetlamps to illuminate her path. As with Petunia the streets were empty something that troubled Camellia. She began to wonder if she'd misread the situation. Perhaps this wasn't a comic book story. Perhaps this was a horror film and she the young innocent blond girl was about to be the monster's first victim. But then what of Harry's powers?

A massive hand took hold of Camellia's left shoulder. Her worst fears seemingly confirmed the girl lashed out with a wild swing. Thankfully she struck nothing. "Easy, there, girly! Easy!" The voice sounded familiar. Camellia turned around to see the oddest suit of armor that hadn't come out of her comic books. It was almost entirely form fitting with no chainmail links used except over the crotch. And even that was obscured by a sort of metal skirt that ran from what would be the midriff to the middle thighs. At each shoulder looked to be a row of plates that Camellia guessed allowed for freer movement. How anyone could see through the single slit in the helmet the girl had no idea but she supposed protection sometimes trumped visibility. The helmet looked more like an oddly shaped bowl than the suits she'd seen in story books. Everything was made weirder by the… well it sort of looked to be a shotgun? In any case the figure carried a firearm in its right hand.

"Damn it, girl, quit gawping!" Camellia immediately shut her mouth. "What're you doing out of your house?"

"Mrs Figgs?" The voice was harsher than usual and sounded almost northern but it could only belong to that cantankerous old woman. "Mrs Figgs, it's me Camellia."

"I know it's you!" The old woman took hold of Camellia's forearm and began pulling her back towards Number Four Privet Drive. "You've got no business being out on a night like this."

"That's why I come to find you." Mrs Figgs' pace was incredible. To her credit Camellia managed to keep up without stumbling. "Mum and Harry fought so Harry jumped out the window and ran off. Mum went out to find him and told me to call you but you didn't answer so I left the house to come and get you." The old woman had stopped. She turned her head slowly. Camellia felt very self-conscious. It was amazing how much emotion could be communicated by a chunk of immovable metal. "I- it's my fault really. See I made Harry nick these chocolates-"

"Your mom's a clever bird. Give me your hand." As Camellia moved to comply, Mrs Figgs tore a small silver disk off the butt of her shotgun. She placed it in the palm of Camellia's outstretched hand. "You're going to feel a pinch." Despite the warning Camellia still gave a small shout. Her blood fell into grooves on the disk revealing strange runic writing visible even in the dark. Mrs Figgs closed Camellia's hand over the talisman. "Listen here. Run straight back home, lock every door and window in the house, and stay there until the sun comes up. Someone will be by tonight to check up on you. They'll be a wizard so expect them on a flying broomstick." Camellia didn't know if she should laugh. Besides, her hand stung pretty bad.

"Don't worry about your mother or Harry. I'll look after them but I need you to give this medallion back to this cat after you get home." A very ugly cat appeared from beside Mrs Figgs. It may have been Camellia's imagination but it looked as if it were trying to look unbothered by everything that was happening. "Do not let go of it until then. Do you hear me, girl?" Camellia made a small noise that indicated she did. "Good then. Go!" The girl did not need to be told twice. She turned away from the old woman and set off back to her home.

Everything went by in a blur from there. In the years to come Camellia would recall returning the strange trinket to the cat and how it clamped down on it before completely disappearing. The shock of an animal vanishing is probably why that part of the night stood out. But besides that one moment nothing else would come to her. She'd turned on all the lights and gone up to her room. The blankets had somehow ended up underneath the bed with her. (Perhaps to deal with the half-frozen floor. But, then again, she'd never taken off her coat.) Camellia crouched there for what she later found out was at most an hour. There was a light knocking on her window.

Camellia poked her head out from under the bed. There was a man at her window. He had red hair made up into a short mohawk and piercings all along his right eyebrow. His face was kind, the sort you trust, but there was something mischievous about it. Impish almost. Remembering what Mrs Figgs had said, Camellia got out from under the bed and made her way to the window. The man watched with some amusement as she fumbled with the latch. "Got it, love? Maybe put down the club?" she heard him say. The lock finally cooperated and Camellia was able to let the stranger in. She stepped back holding her father's five-iron close to her chest. "Thanks." His voice was deeper than she'd expect for a face like his. And his clothes made no sense at all. Over a reddish-brown tunic, he wore a sleeveless black cloak that reached all the way to his ankles. The tunic ended just above the knee and the waist was cinched in with a belt. He wore no trousers and Camellia was too embarrassed to check if he wore no pants too.

Vernon would assuredly disapprove of this young man but he had never arrived home. He had called while Camellia was away and sthus was not able communicate that he would not be home until the following night. All for the best. A trouserless wizard with a mohawk and piercings may have been too much for his heart.

"You must be Harry's cousin, then," he said.

"Is Harry alright?" Camellia blurted out. "Did mum find him?!" The man frowned.

It was still light out (if barely) when Petunia found Harry. His chin was tucked in and his arms were crossed over his chest. Although Petunia could not see them (Harry's hands were buried in his armpits) she guessed each hand was balled into a fist. He was shivering violently, the thin shirt he wore did nothing to keep out the cold. Without Petunia's consent, her mind wandered back to Lily. Cold had never bothered that girl. Whether November rain or sleet in January, nothing ever stuck to Lily's body or her clothes.

"Harry." The name sounded strange to Petunia. She'd have to try again. Besides, the boy hadn't responded. "Harry, come here. Put this coat on. We're going home. It's not safe being out here at night."

"Is it- is it any safer back there?" Tears were coming down Harry's face again. Cold winds had a way of forcing them out of you. He glared angrily at Petunia but the picture of defiance was marred by his chattering teeth and uncontrollable shivering.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Petunia said softly. "Now please put on your coat." That much he would do. Harry held out his shivering arm. There wasn't much dexterity left in his body so Petunia had help him into his coat and work the zipper for him. She did it all in silence, neither of them meeting each other's eyes. "Where would you even go?"

"Friary over in Guildford." Harry's answer was automatic. "I'd already got a tenner for helping some boys at school with their maths. Thought I'd do magic tricks for passersby. Make enough quid to buy some clothes. Eat what the restaurants throw out every night. Break into an inn if they don't rent to boys without parents. Wait until the weather warmed and then… try to find other people like me."

Petunia listened. As he spoke she looked at his face. It was turned away from her but she could see the green of his eyes. She still did not like that color but she'd never cared for it on Lily either. "You thought a lot about this. And quickly. Come on. If you want to meet people like your mother you shouldn't run away. They'll send a letter when you're eleven." Harry's head snapped up. He forgot the cold and stared open mouthed into his aunt's impassive form. She walked away from him at a quick speed and he nearly jogged to keep up with her. "The letter will be from a secret college that teaches magic. Harry- you're a wizard."

"A wizard?"

"I said you could do magic, didn't I?" Petunia hated questions. The two walked a bit more before she continued. There wasn't much sun left and she hated walking through quiet streets at night. "You're not as good your mother was at your age. Cold never bothered her none. A blizzard hit once and she was the only one who could make it out to the grocer's." Harry made a small noise that might have indicated indignation or amazement. It was hard to tell with chattering teeth.

"Why did she have to go out?" Harry asked.

"It was my birthday and there wasn't anything in the house." She didn't look at Harry when she spoke.

The pair walked some distance before a completely nude man appeared in front of them. He had long matted grey hair and thick whiskers that overran his face. His body was impossibly muscled as if his own pale white skin threatened to be torn apart by them. Petunia and Harry stopped. The naked man chuckled. His two swollen balls bounced when he did. "Going for a walk this late, miss? Ah and with your boy too. Tsk tsk. The streets ain't safe now is they?" Petunia moved to place herself between this stranger and Harry. "Now that's a proper bit of care taking now innit? You'd hardly tell you liked smacking the boy." The man paused to appreciate the confused looks on their faces. "Oh, I'd been following the boy for a few minutes before you found him. Was about to make my move too. Well and good I didn't. This family stuff's right fun to listen to."

"Who are you?" demanded Petunia.

"Greyback. Fenrir Greyback." Petunia snorted. He looked at her, a sick smile playing on his face. "Think it's funny, do you?"

"I think it sounds like you were twelve and stuck with a name like Neville or Mortimer so you came up with something your friend's thought sounded scary." Greyback laughed. It sounded like a howl. He cocked his head to the side and continued to stare. The way the moonlight reflected off his white teeth made something in Petunia's mind click. She threw herself at Greyback, knocking the man over. He looked up at her still laughing but now his body seemed different. The hair on his face was certainly growing even longer and wilder. The sun had already set. The moon was now looking down at them. "Run, Harry! Get out of here!" But the boy didn't. He looked at his aunt, the veins along his temples now bulging out against his skin.

Petunia felt the same force she had back at her home except now it moved her up and back instead of flinging her violently. When she landed it was next to Harry who was still focused entirely on the wolfman. Beads of sweat built up around his brow as his face twisted into angrier and angrier scowls. There was no mistaking his intention. Harry wanted to kill this monster the same way he had threatened to kill Petunia; by crushing it underneath the weight of his power. But try as he might he could not. Greyback was rising to his feet, his own power being too much for such a death. The monster's magic manifested itself as a silvery mist that emanated from his fur. To Petunia the skinny tendrils were a beautiful and wretched thing twirling in the moonlight as if this were party or dance.

The transformation was complete and Petunia had a fairly good idea how this movie normally ended. She stood up. There on the other side of the street was a red MGB with the hood down. Petunia ran to it choosing to believe Harry would hold until she'd managed to hotwire the old car. The model couldn't have changed much since her youth, could it?

Today, on this night, faith would be rewarded. The engine came to life. It roared just as Greyback made it onto all fours. Refusing to be outdone he let out a howl that reverberated through Petunia's whole body. Whatever force Harry had commanded vanished and he was thrown back, his head colliding painfully with the pavement. Greyback made a sound somewhere between a bark and a laugh. Now at his full height, the dread wolf looked as if he could indeed birth sons so terrible they'd snuff out all light in this world. But Petunia was here in a near worthless British car. She rammed him.

It was not entirely unlike hitting a moose or cow.

The car was totaled. Greyback's torso had smacked into the bonnet causing it to almost fold around him. And it might have had the momentum not carried him through the windscreen and into the car itself. He was now sprawled out inside it, his many broken bones crying out in anger. A flight of fancy saved Petunia's life. Thinking back to all of her books and stories, she'd jumped out of the vehicle just before impact. Her elbows hurt something fierce but she could move them. Petunia stood herself up (it seemed to be a recurring theme that day) and looked for Harry who was still where the wolfman's magic had thrown him.

She ran to him. He was breathing and looking up at her but his eyes seemed out of focus. "Harry!" Petunia felt for a pulse. She feared a concussion but soon realized Harry's state was due to something else. His heartrate was obscene. To her it looked as if Harry had just forced himself to sprint a full 10k race. There was sweat everywhere. "Oh gods, Harry." So light was her nephew, Petunia felt as she could hold him in just one arm. She didn't, their coats would have made things cumbersome, but it still disconcerting to know other human being took up so little space. "Come on, Harry. We need to get out of here." The howl that came from inside the MGB served as enough proof of that.

Greyback was back on all fours. While his legs seemed to be fixing themselves (already the bone of an open fracture along his left leg had retreated under the skin) Greyback was unwilling to let his quarry escape. He howled again and this time Petunia found herself forced down onto her knees. No matter what she did she could not move. There was no strength in them at all. Something had rooted her in place. Petunia looked on in horror as the monster crawled towards them. Its right eye was a bloody hole now. Its jaw hung stupidly to the side and blood drippled out of it. There was no more escaping, Petunia realized. If only she'd snatched Harry up and sped off instead of crashing into the damned thing. But then Petunia remembered the monster was magical. Perhaps he could have willed the car to stop with his magic. Or perhaps he'd have simply chased them down with those massive legs. She had never been one to question what could have been so she would not start now.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Petunia whispered. "Tell Camellia I love her and that- and that I'll miss her birthday party." Harry was only marginally aware of what his aunt was saying. It wasn't until he felt himself being thrown with all her might that things begin to make sense. He landed some feet away on the hard road, his body much hotter than it had any right to be. His aunt intended to die and for him to flee while that thing devoured her. As Harry watched the monster heal itself (rising from all fours to stumble along on its hindlegs as if to mock the incredible risk Petunia had taken) the heat in him only grew. Not even minutes ago this monster was a twisted heap of bone and meat yet he still came at them. Meanwhile Harry couldn't even catch his breath. What sort of wizard was so pathetic?

Indignation saw him rise to his feet but then fatigue forced him down to one knee. It was not an unfamiliar situation for Harry. Many times when he and Camellia snuck off to explore his magic Harry had worked himself into equally weak states. No amount of heavy breathing would cure this and there was no Camellia to lean on as they trekked back home. There was Petunia who could not move, who had resigned herself to death.

"No! Damn you, no!" Harry's eyes focused on his aunt. He'd expected some gruesome visage that would scar him for the rest of his life (however little might be left of it.) Instead Harry saw the monster casually move past his aunt and continue towards him. There was no mistaking the sound Greyback made as he did. It wasn't between anything. Greyback was laughing- laughing no different than a human would. "You bloody fucking freak!" (Petunia was so eloquent at times.)

Because he could do nothing else, Harry watched the creature approach. Its legs look healed yet Greyback continued at a snail's pace. The wolfman's eyes met Harry's. Looking into those grey wells told Harry everything he needed to know. Greyback intended for him to run. This wolf was no predator. Predators were cowardly, efficient things, that wanted as little fight in their quarry as possible. So too did Harry realize he was not without hope because of this. The abnormal heat he was feeling was not dissimilar from the feeling of weightlessness that had preceded his telekinesis. It must be some other power- some other magic he can call upon. And if this wolf wanted to toy with him than he had time enough to finesse a miracle.

Just like in Camellia's comic books.

Harry envisioned the heat inside him as if it were a tangible thing he could manipulate. He pulled it up from his extremities and tried to place it out into the world. His magic took physical shape beginning first as an amorphous blob of red and then coalescing into a small sphere. The surface shifted like the ebb and flow of tides. Greyback stared at it. His marble eyes widened, as much as any beast's can, and he drew his arm up. But then Harry collapsed, the ball transitioned back into an amorphous blob and then back into nothingness, and the fear Greyback felt vanished. The monster growled. Trees shook, windows, rattled, even the moon fled into the suddenly overcast sky. Greyback's massive maw opened wide ready to swallow Harry.

A shoe hit him. Petunia was now lobbing hers at him. Greyback's laugh returned to him. There was still some fun to be had. What an interesting night. He offered up his chin to whatever Petunia would throw next. And then a shotgun slug hit him in the face. There wasn't much blood. The blow knocked Greyback's head to the side but beyond that there was little damage. Everyone, except Harry who was still barely supporting his own weight even on all fours, turned to see someone in full armor brandishing an odd-looking shotgun (there were three barrels to it! How would you even fire from them all? Did each need to be loaded separately? How would sights even work? And why was this damned fool waving it? If Petunia weren't in such a fragile emotional state she'd laugh madder than the wolfman could.)

"Aye, you great big ugly bastard! You like the feel of that?" The answer to Mrs Figgs' question was 'no, obviously not' but she asked it just the same. Greyback roared. Somehow this caused the air around Mrs Figgs to crackle. Symbols appeared all over her armor glowing white and then purple. "Nah, that won't work on me, princess. Here's another treat for you!" She pulled the trigger embedding another slug into Greyback. His howl this time contained a hint of shock and confusion as the two projectiles began to glow. Figgs fired once more emptying the third barrel. There were three glowing slugs in him now. Greyback picked them furiously but they refused to budge. "Some monster you are. Did a muggle and untrained wizard really take this much out of you?" Mrs Figgs smacked the butt of her weapon. The glowing stopped and the back ends of each slug opened. "You had my friends working themselves into a frenzy when they smelled you. At least the house'll be calm when you're dead." She hit her weapon again.

Blood shot out of each slug turning Greyback's once beautiful coat into a red matted mess. There was so much of it when his body collapsed there was an audible splash. Mrs Figgs laughed. She looked from the wolfman to Harry. "Tufty, Paws, get over to the boy." From seemingly nowhere two of the most hideous cats you could imagine appeared by Mrs Figgs feet. They hesitated, earning them a light kick from their mistress. "I didn't stutter, did I! What's got you nancies in such a fright?" Greyback. Greyback had them in such a fright. Being part kneazle had gifted Mr Tufty and Mrs Paws with the sort of extra sensory perception only horror movie goers normally have. They knew Greyback was alive but lacked the means to communicate with their mistress. They could only snarl and hiss and hope she kept her weapon trained on the monster.

She didn't. Their inaction had led to Mrs Figgs glancing down and that was all the window Greyback needed. He threw himself at her. Because of his magic, Greyback hadn't even needed the use of his legs. His prone body simply lifted itself off the ground and then hurled itself at his would-be slayer. To Petunia it sounded like church bells but to Mrs Figgs it sounded more like an excuse to drink later. She looked up at the wolf pinning her left arm to the ground. Fur had forced itself into her enchanted shotgun slugs stopping the blood flow. Aside from being a disgusting sight (imagine the hair on your head animating itself to plug a hold in your cheek) it also was not the sort of thing Mrs Figgs prepared for. Nor did she really anticipate this werewolf having the presence of mind to identify the runes on her suit of armor and try to claw through them.

Really this looked a bit out of her weight class if she were totally honest with herself. Still, there were always contingencies to fall back on. And there was that question of a monster hunter's personal pride. Wizards may have made her weapons but she was the one who fielded them night after night. A pointed blade formed over the knuckle of her right hand. It's silver sheen turned scarlet after she plunged it into Greyback's side. He howled, in pain this time. Forgetting the runes and his own higher brain function Greyback took hold of Mrs Figgs' head (as best he could with an unwieldly helmet covering it) and slammed it into the ground. However much this may have dazed Mrs Figgs and however much it might help Greyback vent, the attack did not dislodge the silver blade from his side. It stayed firmly in place driving the wolfman madder and madder.

While it would never make it onto the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Werewolf Capture Unit's report, it was anger that ultimately killed Greyback. With his reason gone he forgot Mrs Figgs was not the only threat to him. Harry Potter was still breathing and while exhausted, he was not to be deterred. The reason his previous attack had failed, Harry reasoned, was because he tried to manifest it outside himself. Maintaining shape and mass was simply too taxing for him. If, on the other hand, he simply willed that same magic around a body part, say his hands, then he wouldn't need to worry about corporeality. The magic would conform to his own body. A sketchy bit of reasoning but tonight was the night of miracles so Harry's magic did coalesce as he expected it to.

Greyback smelled burning flesh. The sweet smell made his mouth water and forget the pain in his side. He raised his head. Something was coming towards him. Something hot. Harry's hand. They were covered in the same red the ball had been. And now they were on top of Greyback's head. The pungent stench of burning fur and polyester filled the air. The three odors were odious enough to revive Mrs Figgs who was now treated to the sight of Greyback's final moments. His eyes popped as the rapidly evaporating liquid broke free of its shell. There was little blood. What little skin there was over his forehead was soon charred beyond any recognition becoming black flakes that snapped off. The bone soon too became too hot for Greyback's brain causing first the frontal lobes to boil and cook and then the rest of the spongey organ. His body still twitched. The electrical pulses running through the machinery were no longer sure what to do with themselves.

Everything else failed in time including whatever charm had held Petunia in place. She rushed to Harry and withdrew him from atop the dead wolfman's body. His hands were horrifically burned. To her it looked as if there was no meat to them left and it was just blackened bits of bone poking out from underneath his coat. "Harry," she sobbed. Her nephew was not moving and his breathing was shallow. He was no longer even sweating.

"Devil take it all," Mrs Figgs swore. She flung Greyback's corpse off herself and tried to stand but could only make it to one knee. Her feet weren't entirely under her, as the boxers like to say. A black cat, less ugly than the others (still not something you'd like to pet) appeared on her shoulder. She glanced at it and seemed to take heart. "Petunia, listen. Some wizards are going to apparate here any moment. They don't know anything about me or that other stuff Albus told you about. Don't mention I was here. They'll take you to a hospital and ask some questions. One of our wizards will contact you there. It'll probably be a tall black man by the name of Shacklebot or a crazy nutter by the name of Moody. Don't know who else they could send. Camellia's fine. A wizard named Bill Weasley will stay with her tonight. Harry will be fine, I promise. And I'm sorry I didn't just come out and tell you. I'll give Albus an earful for you and you can give me one later. We'll make an evening out of it and all have a cuppa afterwards."

Petunia blinked. "Mrs Figgs?!" she said her voice rising higher than was normal. There was a small chuckle from inside the suit and then it vanished and the three cats vanished. Petunia was seemingly left alone with her injured nephew and a werewolf's corpse. The ruined car was also there but not nearly close enough to qualify as part of the macabre scene.

Three loud pops announced the arrival of the wizards Mrs Figgs had predicted. All three were men in their early to mid-thirties and had their wands at the ready. They wore black cloaks that reached all the way to their boots. To Petunia it seemed as if there was a deliberate air of intimidation to them. "Merlin's left nut," the tallest said. "What the hell happened?" He directed his question at no one and so no one answered. Petunia stared at them for a moment before she found her voice.

"Please help my nephew!" she shouted.

One of the wizards waved his wand in the air. All the streetlights suddenly dimmed but to Petunia there seemed to be no difference in visibility. "I think it's a muggle, Helmsley," he said to the tallest of their group. "We're going to need obliviators after all."

Petunia bit back a scream. "I know about magic!" All three men jumped and looked at her. "My nephew is a wizard. I'm his guardian. He damned near killed himself fighting that- that thing! He needs a hospital!" It proved to be too difficult to keep her emotions in check. This had been a very stressful night for Petunia and it was only fair she pay it forward. "Stop fucking staring and help!" The tall wizard (Helmsley) sprang to life, bounding over to unconscious boy in four long steps. He passed his wand over Harry's hands before recoiling in shock.

"What exactly did your boy do, Mrs-"

"Dursley. And like I said, he fought off that monster."

"Yes but how-"

"I don't know! With magic. My sister was the witch, not me." Petunia wondered how the wizarding world handled non-magical folks who managed to throttle the life out of a slow to act wizard. Perhaps it was the sort of legal quagmire where she'd just be left alone by the courts. "Can you please help."

"Y-yes." Helmsley cleared his throat as if to reclaim his authoritative air. "I've placed a Cooling Charm over the boy so the burns won't get worse. Aside from his… hands it looks like a bad case of Magical Exhaustion. Not fatal but certainly nothing to be taken lightly of course. We'll get him to St Mungo's right away, ma'am. I've a Restorative Draught- we carry the stuff to all our potentially hazardous assignments- here on my belt the boy should take. It won't heal him fully but it'll help his hands and give him some much needed energy. May I- uh- ask his name?"

"Harry," Petunia answered as she held the potion to Harry's lips. "Harry Potter."

The three wizards exchanged looks. One, Hunter, who'd walked over to Greyback's corpse and performed several strange incantations coughed. "That'll explain this then," he mumbled.

"What?" Helmsley was still crouching beside Petunia and now more determined than ever to seem in control. "Out with it, lad. Can't you see, Harry Potter's lying here hurt."

"Well, sir, it's- well it's Fenrir Greyback."

"What's that blight got to do with anything?"

"That's what he called himself before he transformed." It was Petunia who spoke and now all eyes were on her again. She didn't look up to meet them. Nor would she until Harry finished the tonic in her hand. "Sounded like a damn stupid name," she spat.

Helmsley was standing. He felt a surge of energy and crouching would hardly get rid of it all. "That's why we kept losing the bastard. Ma'am, Greyback- that monster's vexed the whole department for decades now and your boy- Harry Potter shows up and cooks him."

"Lovely," Petunia said finally looking up. "We'll get a little trophy to go with the newspaper clippings. Can we go to the hospital now?"

"Yes, of course." The very much in charge Helmsley turned to his subordinates. "Hunter, Hearse, take that bloody thing down to the Dangerous Creatures Ward. I'll be taking Mrs Dursley and Mr Potter to the DMLE floor. Don't think there'll be any objections given the circumstances. Mrs Dursley if you could hand me Mr Potter…" She did. "Yes, thank you, now be sure to hold on to me." Three loud pops and the streets were once again empty wizards.

"What a bunch of knobs," a disembodied voice said. A cat meorwed in agreement. "They won't let Squibs like me hunt nasties but oh sure let's give a badge to every pillock who managed an E on his Defense Against the Dark Arts OWLS. Come on, let's get home. My head's ringing and I'm sure Albus will want a word. In any case, I need someone to patch up this suit."

"Your mum's fine, love," the wizard said. "A few scrapes but nothing a night of rest won't cure. Harry- he…" Camellia's heart sank. "He got hurt pretty bad. Now the bad news is he'll be laid up in St Mungo's for a few days. Do you wanna know the good news?" The little girl nodded. The wizard smiled. "Your cousin stopped a very dangerous, very powerful werewolf tonight. One that-" Camellia had started hopping up and down a broad grin on her face. "One that- Hey, love I'll need you to settle down a bit, eh?" He didn't expect her too. It was rather nice seeing the girl look so happy. The sight reminded him of his own little sister and how excitable good news made her.

"I'm so sorry, sir," Camellia said looking somewhat sheepish.

"Nothing to apologize for. And my name is Bill. Bill Weasley." Bill held out his hand. It was a large, coarse thing, clearly used to elements. A bit like the sort Camellia imagined stevedores had back in the age of sail. She took it and immediately felt a reassurance she couldn't put into words. There was so much Camellia feared she might cry. "Go on, love. Don't let me stop you," Bill said in that voice that sounded too low and too rich to belong to a freckled man with a mohawk. But huddled up against his chest, with his heartbeat against her eardrum, Camellia realized it'd been a silly thought for her to have,

And then she had a good long cry, getting tears all over Bill's tunic. "You're a brave girl. Going on to get Arabella probably saved your mum and your cousin. Damn brave."

"Thank you, Mr Weasley," Camellia said.

"Call me Bill." He stroked her hair until the sobbing stopped and then he patted her shoulder. "This house is a bit bloody cold, eh?" Camellia nodded roughly Bill's tunic further. "Let's fix that shall we." She didn't see what he did but suddenly it was far too warm for her coat and the floor no longer felt like dry ice. "That's better. Where's your kitchen. I'll make you a little snack and then you can lay yourself down and sleep. Unless you'd rather stay up and wait for your mum. We can… is it called a tele?"

Camellia giggled. "Yes but there's nothing on right now. I have some VHS tapes we can watch."

"What's a 'vee haych ess tape?' Oh it's an acronym now, isn't it?"

Camellia stepped back from Bill. She stared in open disbelief at his inquisitive face. "Do you really not know?" He shook his head. "Do wizards not have movies or VCRs or radios?"

"We got radios," Bill confirmed. He stood up and waved his wand over the front his tunic. The tears disappeared leaving the cloth perfectly fresh. "But no, no movies." Camellia stared in horror. "For the best, really. Only wizards I've seen who can act came out of Greece."

"So what do wizards do all day?"

"Show me your kitchen and we can have it out over a meal." Bill winked at the young girl.

"Mother says, I'm not to eat this late."

"Then we won't tell her," Bill said with a shrug.

A half hour later and the pair was sat in front of the television, sandwiches firmly in hand. Bill nibbled his while Camellia worfed hers down. In all the excitement, the poor girl had forgotten dinner had been totally skipped. Thankfully here was an opportunity to make up for it.

"So, does he actually touch them before they explode?" Bill asked.

Camellia nodded furiously. "It's his secret martial art. The Hakuto Shinken. He hits pressure points on your body which cause your ki and blood to jam up so your arteries explode."

"And he's got to say it every time, does he?" Bill nodded. "Bit like magic then. Wizards got to practice to get silent spells right. More trouble than it's worth for some."

"How come?" Camellia half turned away from the show. "How come wizards don't all learn silent spells, I mean."

"Not a lot of jobs call for it. And it's bloody hard to get the same sort of… power level, I guess you'd say, without the incantation." A half nude woman was crouching behind Kenshiro on the television. One of the villains looked at her with a lewd face. "Oy, the baddies in this aren't the sort you'd let near your sister, are they?"

"No. But Ken always makes them pay in the end!" Camellia reached for another sandwich. "So, what do you, Bill?" she asked.

"I'm still in school to tell you the truth- got a couple months left before graduation- but I'm hoping to do curse breaking for Gringotts. That's a bank," he explained. "Mostly it means I'd go into old tombs, undue ancient curses, and maybe put down nasty spirits. That sort of thing." Bill now had Camellia's full attention. The small girl had sat up and was leaning in until she was almost on top of the wizard. Bill had to scoot over to create some space.

"That's sick!"

Bill smiled. "Like that, do you? Makes two of us. Da'- well Da's not real big on the whole profession. Says to let sleeping ghosts rest and all that. Mum thinks I'm outright mad. Tells me with my grades I should be a healer ." The wizard leaned back and sighed. "They're both more right than wrong. Still it's my life, innit? Gotta make some mistakes."

"What does Mrs Figgs do?" The question seemed a extension of the night.

"Arabella? She doesn't rightly have an actual job, see. Hunting werewolves and other beasties was outlawed by the Ministry almost six years ago. After You-Know-Who fell, well there wasn't any need for them." Bill scratched his chin. "Don't know if I buy that but it's what got printed on all the papers."

The next question almost floored Bill. In hindsight, he should have surmised the situation would be a little complicated. But for some reason he hadn't seen the warning signs. Perhaps it was his gratitude towards the headmaster for rescuing him from Professor Snape. (Head Boy or no, Severus Snape was not going to forgive a Gryffindor "working to better unity between the Houses" with one of his sixth year Slytherins.) Or maybe he just liked to think most parents were like his.

"Who's 'You-Know-Who?'"

There wasn't much for Bill to do but chew on his food and swallow. "How much has your mum told you about the wizarding world?" Camellia didn't answer which told him what he needed to know. "Alright. There was this evil wizard. Called himself The Dark Lord. Don't know if he really was or not but… he was bloody powerful. The whole wizarding world was under a dark shadow. Families would be murdered in the dead of night and there wouldn't be a trace of them come morning. There weren't a whole lot of safe spaces then. Hogwarts, that's the school I go, was one. So was Beauxbatons down in France. Maybe some bits of North Africa too." Bill stopped speaking. On the television screen a man's head had exploded moments after he'd begged for his life. "Was a bit like that actually. Even Aurors doing things they shouldn't. See, you couldn't trust your family would be there at day's end. For a lot of people, they weren't. Sort of thing that makes you think things you shouldn't, like my Da' says." He stopped again. Kenshiro let another villain know death was coming.

"Bill?"

"Aye?"

"What's an Auror?"

"They hunt dark wizards and monsters. Anyway," Bill continued. "He decided he'd kill your aunt and uncle. Harry's parents. Then he turned his wand on Harry and his spell rebounded. Took out the whole house. I dunno if he's really dead. I know enough about magic to know people like that have a way of clinging to this world. But all his charms were broken. Curses he'd put in place to terrorize anyone fool enough to challenge him vanished. For eight years now there hasn't been a trace of his magic and his army fell apart without it. All thanks to Harry Potter."

Camellia felt her heart swelling in her chest. This was something she'd always known. Despite her father's derision and her mother's stern looks, inside in that same place that told you to fear fire and dark corners, Camellia had always known Harry was special. She wondered what she would mean to his life going forward. If they'd stay as close as they are now or if he'd drift away. Whatever the case Camellia hoped she could always be there in some way. After all, he was her cousin and she loved him.

For those curious, Arabella will explain in the next chapter why she didnt just go with silver bullets. I'm not going to call it a good reason. It's her reason and you can feel free to judge.

I've bumped up everyone's power in the wizarding world. I realize that made this chapter a bit shounen anime-esque but I think Harry Potter lends itself easily to that genre.

I'm pretty sure this is before English subs of Fist of the North Star were available. If not, yay me. Otherwise, let's go with artistic lisense.

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review. Whether it's to tell me Mrs Figgs in armor was stupid or to ask my opinions on the New York Yankees, I'm happy to get them.