July, 1993
Harry correctly anticipated the large influx of owls after sunset on the 30th of July bearing birthday gifts for the next day, and quietly congratulated himself on encouraging the Dursleys to stay settled in front of the television that evening with the curtains discreetly drawn, occupied with a supply of post-dinner "movie snacks" he'd made that afternoon. He didn't want them to notice all the swooping owls.
He had quite the haul of birthday gifts this year, which was still a delightful novelty to him. He almost felt like counting them to gloat over, like Dudley did. One of the first birthday gifts he opened was from Tracey – a book titled Modern Magical World History.
"I understand that you don't enjoy History of Magic. But it can be really exciting when you're not just learning from Binns! I'm going to take it to N.E.W.T. level. This is one of my favourite textbooks, I had to special order a copy for you because Flourish and Blotts don't usually stock it. I hope you enjoy it too. I keep hoping it will be one of our set texts, but no luck yet."
Neville sent him a double Albert chain, "to put your dad's watch on". The chain attached to a vest buttonhole, then one loop went to a little vest pocket where you kept your watch, and the other loop draped to the other side to counterbalance it, with a fob weight to be attached of his choice. Neville suggested using his Heir ring, or Gringotts key, and Harry thought both would work well. He also wrote that Harry should take the watch to the jeweller at 92 Diagon Alley, where his Gran had paid for it to be cleaned and checked. Harry guessed that explained Neville's curious, tactful questioning in his first letter about why he'd had to borrow Neville's watch on the train from Hogwarts.
Draco and his parents sent a gift certificate in graceful calligraphy for a new set of formal robes from Twilfitt and Tattings in Diagon Alley. There was also a small booklet "that my father thought you might enjoy perusing" called The Knights of Walpurgis, which on a quick flip through seemed to be a mix of political theory and information about pagan traditions. Harry suspiciously asked Storm to check it out, but he said it didn't seem very "special". So it probably wasn't enchanted or anything.
Percy's screech owl Hermes brought a chatty birthday letter full of well wishes, and told Harry all about the Weasley family's win of the 700 Galleon "Daily Prophet Draw", and their subsequent holiday in Egypt visiting his brother William. Though Percy did think his parents should have budgeted their winnings more wisely, he had been enjoying learning about Ancient Egyptian wizards. He also proudly mentioned that he'd been made Head Boy. Harry made sure to congratulate him on that in his thank you letter.
Storm was most impressed with Millicent's unusual gift of a sealed jar of water filled with live tadpoles. "She is the bestfriend. I like her the most," he hissed approvingly.
"More than Pansy, who bought you for me in the first place?" Harry asked. Storm thought about it for a while.
"I like her too," he concluded. "But did she sssend sssomething for me to eat?"
"No, there'ss just a ssset of empty crystal potion vialss from her, no sssnackss," Harry said.
"Then I like the other one better," Storm concluded. Harry noted in his thank you note to Millicent that she'd managed to win Storm's favour completely and he was a very happy snake, which would probably please her. He addressed the outside of the envelope to her father, as she'd reminded him that any correspondence needed to go through him.
Daphne sent a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. He certainly had a lot of books now!
Hermione's present arrived with her barn owl Diana at the same time that Neville's owl did – she'd sent two dragonbone stiffeners, "to go with all your cravats".
Ernie had sent a pair of fancy white gloves, and Harry sighed and made a mental note to ask Pansy or Neville if he needed to reciprocate or not, now that Ernie was clearly making a habit of sending gifts. He jotted it down on his list he'd started last year (as advised) to track who was sending him gifts regularly. Alice Tolipan had simply sent him a birthday card with her best wishes, and a reminder that she'd be happy to tutor him if requested. The Derrick family had sent him another drawing by Flavia, of a brightly coloured "rainbow snake" with "STOrM" carefully inked underneath in blotchy letters. There was also a rather nice muslin bookmark embroidered with the Potter crest in tiny cross-stitch, which was presumably done by Mrs. Derrick.
"She is my favourite, too," his approving fickle snake declared, admiring his colourful portrait that Flavia had drawn.
Harry liked it too. "It'ss cute, isn't it? It must be nice to have a little sssister. I bet we can get Colin to take a photo of you to sssend to her, once we're back at Hogwartss."
Harry jotted down a few more names and gifts for his "suck-up" list. He still had no idea who most of the people were. Probably they'd bowed to him a bunch of times, and introduced themselves, and he'd forgotten them. Quills in green, black, or silvery-grey, plain black ink, sweets, and parchment seemed popular gifts this year. There was a distinct lack of cravats, which frankly came as a bit of a relief.
The letter from Hogwarts was his book list for next year, and there was also a permission slip to authorise Hogsmeade visits, with a birthday card from Professor McGonagall tucked in there too.
There was a gift in plain brown paper that Harry hoped, and worried, might be from Quirrell. But it turned out to be from Professor Snape.
"To Mr. Harry James Potter,
My felicitations on your birthday, I trust it will be a pleasant one for you.
I hope you appreciated the photo of your mother I sent to you in your first year. I regret to say I cannot send another; those photos I could spare I gifted to Headmaster Dumbledore for inclusion in the photo album you should have long since received.
Enclosed is a gift instead merely related to one of her interests, and of course mine. Lily was a most diligent student of Potions, and enjoyed experimenting with recipes. I have transcribed a copy of a variation on the Burn-healing Paste that she developed in her O.W.L. year.
You will note that the inclusion of aloe vera in the second stage results in a colour change, producing a dull red-orange cinnabar paste rather than the usual bright pumpkin orange. As the affinity of aloe vera is water she reduced the number of deasil stirs according to arithmantic principles, and the usual pewter cauldron will suffice for this concoction. The overall result is a satisfactory one, producing a more instant soothing sensation when the balm is first applied.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master"
But… Quirrell had sent the photo in first year. He'd said so. One of them was lying. But which one? Well, he hadn't heard from Quirrell in months (and still wasn't sure what he'd say if he did so maybe that was for the best), so he'd write to Snape and see what he said. He was owed a thank you letter in any case.
-000-
The television in the kitchen was off, for one of the few times all holiday, when Harry went down for breakfast. There was no birthday cake, but his aunt had cooked pancakes for breakfast (one of his favourites!), and there was a modest pile of presents on the table for him.
"Happy birthday!" said Dudley, grinning at him. "You got seven presents. That's two more than last year!" His aunt and uncle briefly wished him a happy birthday too.
The biggest present was more textbooks to match Dudley's Smeltings books. There was also another roll of stamps, and a bag of second-hand clothes, just like usual. There was a little box of multi-coloured sticky notes, some coloured cardboard folders, and a pack of highlighters. The last gift had a tag on it saying it was from Dudley – it was long plastic segmented stick of segmented blue and white triangle shapes. Harry looked at it with confusion.
"It's a Rubik's snake," Dudley said with a snicker. "You move the bits around to make different shapes. You can have a pet snake. Or a kitten. Sort of." He snatched it off Harry and twisted it about to make a cobra shape. "Hissss!" he waved it in Harry's face, while his parents watched him indulgently.
The uninteresting business of Harry's birthday swiftly dealt with, the television was put back on, just in time to hear a report from the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries about some dull legislation. Vernon lost interest in the news pretty quickly, and headed off to fetch Aunt Marge for her week-long visit. Dudley seized the opportunity to switch the channel to something more interesting and brain-rotting.
Harry tried to escape the house too (he wanted to visit Potter Cottage or Manor for Lughnasadh) but his Aunt roped him into tidying up the house and garden in preparation for Aunt Marge's visit. And Harry got her to sign his Hogsmeade permission slip with the simple (and honest) explanation that he'd like to be able to make phone calls to his Oxford Home Schooling tutor to help with his correspondence studies.
"Why don't you use a phone at school?" she asked curiously, as she scribbled down her name and signature. "Surely one of the teachers could let you use one in their office."
"They don't have any."
"Really? Why not?"
Harry tilted his head thoughtfully. "That's a really good question, actually. Some people say that electronics don't work at Hogwarts, but I know people who have a 'Wizarding Wireless', which is like a radio, and those seem to work alright, though I don't know what's actually inside the casing.
"Either iron or electricity interferes with magic, or magic interferes with one or more of those things in the electronics. I'm not sure which it is, or both. In any case, they definitely don't have any phone lines there. Or even electricity – no power lines either. I'm hoping Hogsmeade might have a phone, or maybe there'd be one in a nearby Mu… normal town."
"That reminds me, if Aunt Marge asks, remember you go to Smeltings with Duddykins," his aunt reminded him. Harry nodded obediently. "And behave yourself, and watch what you say."
"I will if she will."
"You will even if she doesn't," warned his aunt. Harry sighed. Well, here's hoping it won't be as bad as her last visit, he thought optimistically. The year before he left for Hogwarts, her dog chased him up a tree and kept him there for an hour before he was called off (at Aunt Petunia's prompting) so he could come and do the dishes.
-000-
It's worse than last time, Harry thought despondently that night at dinner, with a painfully fixed smile on his face as Aunt Marge explained how she would've dumped him at an orphanage rather than taken him in, and that boys like him should get the cane regularly at school to keep them in line.
The next day as she gave Dudley a new skateboard and glared at Harry as if daring him to ask where his gift was, he was relieved to be granted permission by his uncle to "head out to the library". And he did stop there briefly to borrow some books about the witch hunts, before nipping round the corner to call the Knight Bus. He was off to the Circle at Potter Manor for Lughnasadh.
He picked some blackberries and ivy as he travelled through the grounds of the manor, and summoned Dobby once he remembered he could do so. The little toga-clad elf was thrilled at the opportunity to fetch him a basket for his overflowing handful of berries that were staining his skin (he really hadn't thought that through). Dobby didn't seem to want to leave after that though, so Harry succumbed with a sigh to the inevitability of having an over-enthusiastic house-elf tagging along.
While Storm basked on top of one of the stones in the Circle in a warm sunny spot, Harry tidied up around the Circle with his copper potions knife, moving in a deasil (clockwise) direction and cutting down a few weeds as he went. He put on his dragonhide gloves on to pull a couple of thistles that were encroaching on the clearing. Dobby was thrilled to be allowed to pull out as many thistles as he liked, too, but was aghast when Harry thoughtlessly offered to lend his gloves; he'd forgotten that it might free the little elf, and then had to spend ten minutes explaining and apologising his offer, trying to get him to calm down and stop crying.
"Dobby! Dobby, look! Fairies! And they need snacks, Dobby," he said, as a last desperate distraction as a couple of them emerged from the woods. "We must be good hosts, for the honour of the Noble Potter family!" That did the trick – Dobby popped off to Potter Cottage to prepare a platter of treats for the fairies, with a promise to return as fast as he could.
Harry sighed with relief, and started setting up for his ritual. He quickly changed into a casual robe and packed his Muggle clothes away (and out of the Circle). Then he spread his old school cloak out on the ground in the middle of the Circle and arranged on it his ivy, the basket of berries, some rosemary, parsley, and flowers from the garden at home, and a scone he'd baked himself yesterday (not being confident of his bread-making skills). In the centre he added a stub of yellow candle stuck with a dribble of cooled wax to a small ceramic saucer.
"Do you think thiss ssseemss like a good ssspot?" he asked Storm. "For a magic ritual?"
"It ssseemss a fine place to sssing," he hissed approvingly. "Like a place with paintingss."
"I'll that as a yess," said Harry. It was probably the most intelligible response he was going to get out of him. At least he seemed generally in favour of it.
"Would you like me to make it rain for your sssinging? Or sssome mist? I can't make a big ssstorm yet, I think. But I could try if it will help. What will you sssing for? Good hunting?"
Harry thought about his offer to make rain. Storm was trying to help, but would it suit the occasion? "Not today, I think, because it'ss an earth festival. Imbolc is a water festival, and that would be a good occasion for it. So I think I would love to see you make sssome mist or rain another time. But it was a very nice offer so thank you."
He hoped his snake wouldn't have hurt feelings over his refusal, and luckily it didn't seem discouraged at all. "I shall dig!" said Storm happily. "Digging is an earth thing, isn't it?"
"Alright," agreed Harry. "But outside the Circle. Find a nice rock if you can, or dig up a plant you think is interesting, and I'll add it to the altar." Storm burrowed quite impressively into the earth as if it was much softer than it looked, like loose sand rather than solid dirt and pebbles. There was a tiny ripple in the earth above where he was moving.
Dobby popped back with a platter of tiny pieces of meat and fruit for the very happy fairies who descended upon the plate like starved locusts, while Harry waited patiently for his snake.
Eventually Storm pushed his way out of the earth again, with a triangular piece of stone that he pushed out of the ground with his snout. Harry picked it up and examined it – it was a grey-blue piece of stone, which looked like it had been chipped into the shape of a triangle with an inward curve at the base.
"I think it'ss an old ssstone arrowhead, maybe flint," he said to Storm. "Part of a very ancient weapon. Probably made thousandss of yearss ago."
"I like it!" his snake hissed enthusiastically. "It is ssspecial! Like it'ss dangerouss! Don't let it bite you!"
Harry handled it a bit more warily after that just in case it was enchanted or cursed or something, and placed it down on his makeshift altar with care, next to a flower. "You did a great job finding it, and you burrowed very impressively," he praised his happy little snake, who went contentedly back to his favourite warm standing stone after his moment of glory.
Harry walked around the inside circumference of the Circle in a deasil direction, touching each stone as he went and offering it some of his magic. They felt different after he'd passed. Like they were more solid, or something. He was still having trouble counting them, so he simply made sure to stop just before the stone he'd started at. Dobby and Storm watched with interest as he then moved to the centre of the Circle and lit the candle stub with a match. With magic would have been better, but he knew the Ministry had ways of tracking you if you used your wand as an under-aged wizard.
He knelt on the ground with his hands on the soil in front of his makeshift altar, sending his power into the earth as he chanted his ritual words in a sing-song voice (though without an actual tune).
"The Wheel of the Year turns,
Dark to light, light to dark, the seasons turn,
And the time of harvest is upon us again.
With food am I blessed, with food do I flourish,
The bounty of the earth.
Food I offer, grown, harvested, and prepared with my own hands,
The bounty of the earth.
Blessed be the earth,
Blessed be the sun that warms it,
Blessed be the magic that empowers it.
On Lughnasadh, this day of earth, may magic accept my offering,
May magic bring blessings to my household, land, and crops."
There was a whoosh of fire as his candle in its dish, for no apparent reason, tipped over and flared up to set fire to his cloak and then everything on it. Harry scrambled back with a yelp and was going to try and smother the fire, but Dobby clapped his hands excitedly.
"Oh, you dids good, Master Potter! That is a very good ritual."
"Was that supposed to happen? The book didn't say that would happen."
"That was a nice sssong," Storm said approvingly. "But you should dance next time too. With ssstomping. And the fire is warm. I like it."
"Oh yes, Master Potter. My old master was always very happy if his offerings were accepted in some way."
"The book just said you eat the bread and fruit, next," Harry said, looking at his burning pile. "Well, at least it was my old cloak. I just expected it would get dirt on it."
At the end when the fire had died away, the only things that were left were the arrowhead, the silver cloak clasp, and the saucer. The gathered little fairies chirped and fought over who would get to carry them off as prizes. Harry didn't try and interfere with their scuffle. Their teeth looked sharp.
-000-
In response to his query about Snape's gift, Harry had a letter owled promptly from Professor Snape only a couple of days later.
"If you are speaking of the picture of your mother with her hair blowing in the wind that I sent as a gift for Yule of 1991, I can assure you with the utmost certainly that it was from myself, and not from Mr. Quirrell. Whom I might point out is some ten odd years my senior, and most certainly never attended Hogwarts at the same time as myself or your mother. A fact which you should be easily able to ascertain the veracity of by consulting another teacher at Hogwarts, such as your own Head of House.
As to which one of us is being "very Slytherin about this whole business", if you are endeavouring to slander one of us with accusations of duplicity with such a phrase, you must clearly look to the thieving Mr. Quirrell rather than myself, despite his sorting into Ravenclaw."
Well, thought Harry, that certainly paints an interesting picture of things. Especially if Professor Quirrell was indeed a Ravenclaw rather than a Slytherin. Either Quirrell was lying over and over to perhaps ingratiate himself with Harry… or the very Slytherin teacher Harry had interacted with and corresponded with was someone merely impersonating or possessing Quirrell. Once he was back at Hogwarts, he was definitely going to ask some teachers some pointed questions about Tom Riddle, Voldemort, Quirrell, and perhaps Snape as well (given his rumoured Death Eater past).
-000-
"Lounging about again all day in your room instead of earning your keep today, weren't you boy?" said Aunt Marge at lunch on the fifth day of her visit.
"I was studying," he muttered grouchily.
"And has it done you any good? You mustn't blame yourself Vernon, if he doesn't do well. You know mother always said that if there's something rotten on the inside there's nothing anyone can do about it."
His Aunt Petunia looked at him nervously as Harry's hands clenched from the effort not to yell at Aunt Marge.
"I'm doing well in Science and Maths. Dudley has me beat in Technology, History and P.E.," he said as calmly as he could manage.
"I'm great at computers!" said Dudley happily, joining in the conversation to talk about the really great computer lab they had at Smeltings. Harry and Petunia both relaxed as Dudley dominated the conversation and it moved into safer territory than Harry's failings. Harry wasn't so naïve as to think it had been done on purpose to help him – Dudley just liked talking about himself and being showered with praise.
Harry got an odd letter from Neville that evening, hoping he was "staying safe and studying hard, and not tempted to do anything headstrong despite the provocation", so he wrote back via Neville's owl, asking why exactly Neville would think he would be doing anything silly, and what provocation was he talking about?
Harry spent as much time away from Aunt Marge and her dog Ripper as he could manage. But he couldn't escape her farewell dinner at the end of her week-long stay. They got all the way to dessert before she started insulting him, with Uncle Vernon boasting again over dinner about his new company car, and the holiday house in Majorca he was sorting out a timeshare arrangement for, thanks to his great deals made with the Masons and other prominent clients during the past year. But eventually the four bottles of wine shared over dinner and a giant glass of brandy took its toll on his sister's tongue.
Harry coped with her calling him a mean, runty thing, but when she started in on his parents and she and Vernon discussed how his father was unemployed, a "good-for-nothing lazy scrounger", a weird pressure built up around him and the lights in the house started flickering.
He took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "May I be excused, Aunt Petunia? I really need to… use the bathroom." She nodded agreement with a nervous look at the lights.
As Aunt Marge expounded on her theory about how his parents were probably drunk when their car crashed, Harry ran upstairs to his room and the door slammed shut behind him without him touching it.
"She's an idiot, she's an idiot, and she knows nothing about my parents. A Muggle like her wouldn't know the first thing about my parents," he muttered angrily to himself as he flopped down on his bed. He got up a moment later to get Storm out of his tank hidden in the cupboard, and explained in great detail to him exactly why Aunt Marge should never have care of a pet rock, let alone dogs, and why she was the runty one who should have been drowned at birth. He patted Storm for comfort, which his snake tolerated for his sake. Storm promised to eat his Aunt Marge for him if he ever grew large enough, which was a kindly meant thought, if a gory one. They had a little chat again about how you shouldn't eat anyone, even the really annoying people.
"Alright," Storm eventually conceded. "I will hit the annoying oness with lightning or tip a boulder on them, instead."
There was a loud thump from downstairs, like someone had tripped over, and Harry heard his Aunt Petunia shriek in fear, then yell for him.
"HARRY!" she screeched, sounding terrified.
Harry's heart beat wildly. Had Uncle Vernon had a heart attack? Was someone attacking his family? He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and sprinted downstairs with his snake, all forgotten, clinging tightly for dear life to his left arm.
Down in the dining room he spotted Aunt Petunia clinging protectively to his rather terrified looking cousin. There was relief in her eyes as she saw him come downstairs, wand in hand, and she pointed shakily across the other side of the room to where Aunt Marge lay unconscious on the floor with her chair tipped over next to her. And to where a strange old man was holding the red-faced and angry Uncle Vernon at wandpoint. He was obviously a wizard. It wasn't just the wand that gave him away, it was the double-breasted purple suit with flowery embroidery around the edge of the jacket, and matching purple cravat. Combined with the baseball cap and the elbow-length grey hair neatly tied back in a ponytail, the combination screamed "pure-blood wizard".
"Ah, Harry Potter-" he said in a calm tone of voice, but Harry didn't want to wait for him to begin a villainous monologue.
"-Expelliarmus!" he yelled, and the wizard's wand flew out of his hand and across the room.
"There's really no need for-"
"-Accio wand!" Harry snatched the stranger's wand out of the air as it flew to him in a stuttering jerky manner, and tucked it down the front of his shirt. He was very glad he'd studied that spell from one of his parents' books on Charms. It fixed a weakness with the Disarming Charm – that your opponent could simply pick their wand back up again.
"Marvellous spellcasting, Mr. Potter! But I mean you no harm," the wizard said, calmly spreading his hands out. "We are family, after all."
"Who are you?" asked Harry suspiciously, keeping his wand trained on the odd, snub-nosed wizard.
"Good work, boy!" said Uncle Vernon. "Now get out of my house!" he bellowed, turning to face the strange wizard again, who sneered at him with disgust. His expression looked kind of familiar to Harry.
"You, sir, are the most pathetic example of a Muggle it has ever been my misfortune to endure encountering. My sister's spirit would weep even in the midst of the joys of the Elysian Fields if she could see the ill-bred lout it was her daughter's misfortune to wed."
Aunt Petunia looked very offended. "Mother was very happy with Vernon as her son-in-law, I'll have you know!"
"Get OUT!" yelled Vernon repetitively, face red with anger, pointing at the door.
"Certainly not without my wand, you ridiculous buffoon. We also have our duel to finish, which it was most impolite of you to interrupt, Mr. Potter, but I do appreciate the situation you stumbled upon must have been somewhat startling and confusing."
Harry's mind worked as he put the clues together. "You're from Pansy's family. Are you her grandfather?"
"Yes, that's correct. How terribly remiss of me not to introduce myself directly. Trophonius Parkinson, Head of the Sacred House of Parkinson, at your service, Mr. Potter." He bowed politely, as to one of lesser rank.
Harry bowed back. "A pleasure, sir. Harold James Potter, Heir of the Noble House of Potter. But… why did you attack my Aunt Marge, and why were you trying to duel Uncle Vernon? He is a Muggle, you know, so it's not like it could be a fair fight, given you have a wand and all."
"Yes, so I gathered. He refused to fetch his sword, and threatened to lay hands upon my person. Most uncouth."
"Can't stop me know, can you?" said his uncle smugly, advancing on the man. "I'll give you a right thrashing for what you did to my sister."
The wizard took a wary couple of paces away from Uncle Vernon, in Harry's direction. "She is merely stunned, and it was well deserved for her venomous words about my great-nephew. There is a reason ladies should not indulge in hard liquor, sir. My wand, if you'd be so kind," said Mr. Parkinson, holding his hand out in Harry's direction, without looking away from Harry's uncle.
Harry hesitated. "Uncle Vernon, don't. Let me just talk to him, alright? And Mr. Parkinson? My uncle doesn't own a sword, so he really can't duel."
"There's a snake on you!" Aunt Petunia shrieked at Harry, having noticed Storm. It distracted his uncle, too, which was a nice incidental bonus.
"Oh, I errr, I summoned it with a spell. Just in case of emergencies," Harry said hastily. "It will bite if anyone grabs me." Dudley snorted.
"Really? I had assumed it-" started Mr. Parkinson.
"-Let's go upstairs and talk," said Harry desperately. "I'll talk to him upstairs, and then he'll leave, okay?"
"I certainly have no desire to linger any longer in this… place any more than necessary. We shall discuss the matter of your warding wizard to wizard, in private.
"And let it be known, Mrs. Dursley, that you are no niece or kin of mine," he said grandly, pointing dramatically at her. "The House of Parkinson acknowledges no connection to you or your insolent spawn. Lead the way, Mr. Potter."
"I'm not a spawn," grumbled Dudley resentfully, "and you're a big hippy freak." Mr. Parkinson ignored him totally, like he'd been sent to Coventry.
"Aunt Marge will be fine," muttered Harry to his Aunt Petunia, before he went upstairs. "I've been hit with that spell myself. Just give it a little time."
Upstairs in Harry's room, which Mr. Parkinson called "highly unsuitable accommodations for a wizard of your standing", he learnt what had brought Pansy's grandfather to his home in such an unexpected manner. And Harry gave him his wand back, which was graciously received.
Apparently, Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, and the Parkinson family had recently heard rumours from people in the Ministry that he was after Harry, intent on murder. Pansy and her parents had appealed to him to help Harry, and he'd come to discuss improving the warding on Harry's residence (at Parkinson family expense, no less), "…only to be grossly refused in the most insulting terms."
Mr. Parkinson explained the key problem, "I regret to say, Mr. Potter, that the best wards cannot be put in place without the fullest co-operation from the owner of the property, which regrettably would be your Uncle, who balked completely at the mere notion. Even if wards are even possible, with a Muggle in charge, they would be but paltry ones. And I now find myself most ill-disposed to provide any assistance to my erstwhile niece and her family."
"Do you think Sirius Black will really come here? To Privet Drive?"
"As I told your guardians, I think it regrettably likely. I regret that I cannot offer you sanctuary with the Parkinson family – that connection must be kept quiet for now. I must see to my son's family's safety first and foremost. I hope you understand – I cannot make them the targets of a madman."
"Oh, of course," said Harry politely, if disappointedly. "Well thank you for the warning, at least. And the thought. I'm sorry but I'm sure my aunt and uncle won't change their mind about setting up wards."
As the wizard shook hands with him, Harry couldn't contain his curiosity. "Do you mind if I ask, why the baseball cap? It looks rather odd, with the suit."
"I was assured by experts that a short-brimmed cap of this style was the very height of fashion in Muggle hats for men, with top hats and bowlers no longer worn by the masses," the old wizard said stiffly, looking a little offended. "And I was told that suits are always suitable for a formal call."
Harry thought it best to escort him to the door, just in case of further trouble. Which there sort of was, as Mr. Parkinson cast a Memory Charm on Aunt Marge as he went past her still-unconscious body. Aunt Petunia shrieked again, and Uncle Vernon yelled. Dudley was out of sight, probably hiding in his room.
"Kindly cease your incessant shrieking, you ridiculous harpy," sneered Mr. Parkinson. "It is a legal requirement to Obliviate Muggles who might endanger the Statute of Secrecy. She has forgotten nothing except the past hour or so, and will come to no harm from the spell. Would you rather a professional Obliviator team be dispatched from the Ministry to your home? No? Then cease your caterwauling posthaste."
"Well I never! How dare you insult me in my own house! Vernon! Get him out!" It was an easier job for the red-faced Uncle Vernon this time than it was on his last attempt. For Mr. Parkinson was ready to leave now and simply stalked out, ignoring the both of them.
Uncle Vernon shouted angrily after him to never come back, until shushed by Aunt Petunia, who was fearful of what the neighbours might think.
After Mr. Parkinson had left, there was a period of fussing over Aunt Marge and the Dursleys being reassured she'd be fine and should wake in an hour or so. Things seemed to be settling down. But then Uncle Vernon looked at Harry with an angry glare. Harry froze. Robbed of his preferred target by Mr. Parkinson's departure, his uncle's anger might now instead be turned on him.
A/N: "William" is Bill Weasley's canonical given name, which Percy uses rather than his nickname. Percy's a formal kind of guy in his letter writing.
Thanks to phoenixdaisy for a comment they left ages ago on "A New Kind of Normal" which prompted me that Snape should send another gift to Harry so Quirrell's deception would be uncovered! I'm sorry it didn't happen earlier – I felt it simply didn't fit the flow of the story.
Thanks to Toraach who suggested that it would be hilarious if Grandpa Parkinson visited Privet Drive, and met his niece Petunia. The idea's moment has come at last!