Please review. Disclaimer : not Rowling

Harry perched nervously on the recliner, staring about the room for any potential threats. Eventually his eyes settled on the dragon lady. Jane, he amended in his mind. She had one eyebrow raised and it was only then that he remembered that she had asked a question.

'Oh, uh, well i don't know where to start.' Harry mumbled.

'I believe the beginning would be the most sensible place.' She said from behind her parchment. He didn't know whether she was smiling or not.

The beginning. What constituted as the beginning of his life? What he remembered or what he'd been told? His parents or the Dursleys? Did he really want to divulge this information about either of them to this stranger?

'Vernon Dursley.' Said Jane suddenly. 'Portly man. Proud. A certain fetish for normality.'

'How do you know?' Harry blurted, staring incredulously at this woman.

She ignored his question. 'Tell me about him, Harry. '

Harry continued to stare at her, until he finally found his voice. 'Well, he was my uncle. And you're right he is a very portly, proud man. He liked normality though I can't think for the life of me why.'

'Perhaps it's a sense of familiarity Harry? It's like his bubble of safety. I dare say his patronus would be a boring tie.'

Harry snorted. 'That sounds about right. Anyway, he didn't like me, even when i was a kid. Because i was different from him. Because i was a freak.' Harry spat contemptuously. 'I was corrupting his perfect little life, ruining it all for him just by existing. Just for being Harry.'

Jane glanced over her parchment at Harry, the quill going still in her hand. 'How would you feel Harry, if you were a muggle and suddenly you found out that there were people who could make things explode at will, could make things zoom about, could brew glory and could cause death? If all the fairy stories you were told as a child were real, but no longer as innocent as you first thought? Would you not be afraid?'

'Of course i would be! Wait... are you trying to make me feel sorry for my Uncle Vernon?!' Harry spluttered.

Jane tutted. 'Not to feel sorry for him but to understand him. And then perhaps you can let these feelings of hatred rest.'

'I don't think understanding him will make me feel forgiving.'

Jane put down her parchment. She looked directly at Harry. 'Did you forgive Voldemort?' she said quietly.

Harry just gaped open mouthed at her. 'What the hell are you trying to make me say?'

'I do not make my clients say anything. What they say is of their own accord. So i ask you again. Did you forgive Voldemort?'

'Of course not!'

'But you understood him?' Jane leaned forward.

'Yes.' Harry whispered.

'Did that ease any of your hatred for Voldemort, Harry?'

'Some.'

'Then the same can be said for your Uncle Vernon. You won't forgive him. But you'll hate him a little less. Because you'll understand him.' she leaned back into her chair and picked up her parchment again.

'You are batshit crazy.' Harry said, aghast.

This time she truly smiled. 'And it is what i'm most proud of. Shall we continue?'

'Continue?' Harry said stupidly.

'Petunia. The nosy, spiteful, bitter aunt.'

'Oh her. I suppose you're going to try and make me understand her too? She pretended she didn't have a sister. All because she was a witch. She renounced her own sister, her own flesh and blood, for her quest for normality. I've wondered since, whether she ever regretted it. But she's never given me any inclination to believe so.' Harry clenched his hands in anger, his knuckles white.

'Imagine if you were truly Ron Weasleys brother. Imagine if he was a wizard and you were not. He's going off to this wonderful school, to do all these wonderful things and he's leaving you behind. He has this whole world you cannot enter. He can do things easier than you can and you have to work hard to do them. All he needs to do is flick a stick. Can you see how jealousy would arise between you two?'

'Maybe.' Harry said cautiously, preparing to be tricked into to saying something he really didn't want to.

'I highly suspect it hurt your aunt to look at you, you know. Because you have her eyes. Lily's eyes. Perhaps, rather than waiting for her to admit it, you should ask her if she has any regrets.'

Harry couldn't help himself. He was staring at her again. This woman was driving him insane, causing him to review his entire mind set on his entire life. Forcing him to understand his dratted relatives, making him feel sorry for them. Her words, her unarguable reasoning was worming its way into his brain and he couldn't stop it. She was making him stop and wipe the slate clean, making him form his thoughts anew. Hermione was right about one thing. She was unorthodox. He didn't know about brilliant. Bloody crazy though.

'Harry, whatever you may believe, I'm not twisting your thoughts. They were always there. I'm just drawing them out.' She said calmly as though she had read his mind. She folded the parchment back up, placed the quill in her black hair and stood. 'So Harry, next week?'

'Are we finished?'

'Oh no Harry.' She said with a sly smile. 'I believe we've only just scratched the surface.'