Chapter 3 Of a little boy

Late afternoon on Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey saw the usually empty outdoors of a Saturday evening disturbed by the slight form of a young boy, sitting on the edge of number four's front lawn, feet dropping onto the street in front of him. Having escaped his cousin Dudley and his best friend Piers, who had headed up to the former's room, Harry Potter had no inclination of risking their company by turning back to the house, and elected instead to bask a little longer in the gentle warmth of the summer air. The stifling heat of the earlier afternoon having cooled down to a more comfortable temperature, the young boy of five knew that he only had a short time to enjoy it before his Aunt came out screeching for him to go set the table.

He also knew, from hearing Dudley whining all morning to get permission, that Piers was staying over for the night, which promised nothing good for him as soon as he did venture inside. The first hurdle would be supper.

While the Dursleys had never gone out of their way to deprive Harry of food, barring the occasional missed meal in punishment for one perceived misdeed or other, he was conscious the fact he was hardly fed as much as the common five year old. That he was much less well fed than his cousin—not such a difficult feat in itself- was hardly surprising, as Harry was certain he'd very likely be larger than he was tall before reaching Secondary education , but he knew that the other children at school generally had more than him as well. It was this, and the fact he slept in the stuffy broom cupboard under the stairs that Harry felt explained his small height and scrawniness, which Dudley's gang never failed to mock him about.

But the food situation initially originated from the fact that Dudley saw no problem in taking as much as he wanted at home, or bullying what he wanted out of Harry's lunch at school, so that the latter was often left with much less than his fair share. And while not nearly as large as Dudley, Harry knew that Piers' presence here tonight practically guaranteed him an empty meal. He knew he definitely shouldn't expect his Aunt or Uncle to do anything about it, and so resigned himself to the situation. After all, they never had done anything, so why should that change now?

But even worse than the promise of a meal far from worthy of the weeding he had completed in the back garden two hours previously, was the promise of Piers staying with Dudley for the night. While the two bullies wouldn't be able to do anything to him when he was in his cupboard, he knew better than to expect anything other than hell in the morning. Aunt Petunia was sure to wake him up even earlier than was usual to make the eggs and toast, and Dudley's efforts in annoying him would surely only increase when given the full support and attention of his lieutenant. No, all in all, the night promised nothing good for Harry.

But in all his morose thoughts, Harry Potter remained totally oblivious, as were all the residents of number four, or indeed Privet Drive as a whole, to the two watchful eyes that had been surveying him for the duration of the afternoon. The two watchful eyes, that unknown him, promised to make Harry's night very good for him.

Up on the higher branches of the chestnut tree which shadowed part of the front garden, still and silent as he sat on his perch, was an observant kestrel, yellow eyes ever drawn towards the small mop of black hair below, lost in his contemplation of the hardships of life in the Dursley household. The small falcon had taken this position two hours ago, when Harry had taken his own, after having first surveyed him digging at the weeds in the back garden from a hidden ridge in the garden wall. His near completely brown plumage prevented him from being seen, and even a careful eye would easily have missed the blue-grey of his cap and tail feathers amidst the cover of fresh summer leaves. This, much to his satisfaction, offered him an optimum position to observe from without being seen, much as a tabby cat had sat and observed the same house many years previously. And much like that tabby had not really been a tabby at all, but a rather disgruntled witch, so this kestrel was not really a kestrel, but one Caspian Peverell, waiting for the right time to reveal himself.

He had been struck, upon seeing the young form of the boy he had once been, with the long abandoned weight of what that life had been like, in the days before Hogwarts and the wizarding world. A world free of Voldemort, yes, but one also in which he had no one, and in which his parents had been drunks that did not love him, instead of war heroes that had died to ensure he lived. That existence, although in the long run perhaps safer, had been only endurable for the past Harry, and he had no doubt that it was so for the current Harry as well. That he had the power, the possibility of saving his….cousin (he supposed) from the misery he had been subjected to full time for another six years, and then every summer before Hogwarts, made Caspian so happy he could shout for joy.

But for the moment he was waiting. He knew that Mrs. Figg had occasionally checked on him through the blinds of her kitchen window, and that he had a better chance of avoiding detection if he waited for Harry to go back inside, where Mrs. Figg would consider him out of trouble for the night.

Passing the wards had been no trouble at all, as he mainly shared the same blood with Harry, and he was reasonably confident that gaining access to the house wouldn't be a problem either. He also had no doubt that neither Hadrian nor the Dursleys would be sorry to have the little boy go. Sure of his success, or at least reasonably so, he could manage to wait a couple more minutes.

In fact it was ten minutes later when, at last, Caspian heard the familiar and unpleasant screech of his mother's sister, and was genuinely happy to hear it, for what was surely the first time in his life.

"You! Come inside! I need you to sweep the kitchen quickly before setting the table. Hurry up! And mind you don't get any dirt on my clean floor!"

As Harry heeded his Aunts words, a faint rustle was heard in the tree a few yards away, where the watchful kestrel had apparently disappeared in thin air, leaving in its place the regal figure of a black-haired youth in his mid-twenties. Casting a hurried disillusionment charm on himself, Caspian easily climbed down from his perch, and went to stand on the lowest step going up to the front door. There, still disillusioned, he carefully traced a slight variation of the kustiri rune on the last step, before repeating the same process on the door. Satisfied, he cancelled the charm, knowing that anyone looking at the front steps of number four, or its front door when it opened, would see the door still closed and the steps empty. Turning around to cast temporary muggle and wizard repellant charms on the property, he adjusted the last touches to his appearance( his cloak becoming an elegant black spring long coat, and his robes morphing into a formal business suit) and knocked on the door.

He only had a minute to wait before the very boy he had been observing all afternoon opened it, stared at his impressive figure, and at his introduction, called his aunt to tell her he wished to speak with her.

And so it was that Caspian Peverell laid eyes on Petunia Dursley for the first time in over seven years. Harry disappeared as she arrived, and Caspian was left alone to face what was undoubtedly one of his least favourite people if not of all, then most assuredly in the muggle world.

"Yes?"

Her tone was irritated and bitter, and he knew that his presentation as a wizard wasn't going to make things much better.

"Mrs. Petunia Dursley, I presume?" , he enquired as politely as he could manage, stifling the urge to spit the words out in her face.

"Yes, what do you want? I'm busy….."

"Yes. I apologise for not coming at a more opportune time, but was incapable to do so due to unfortunate circumstances. I need to speak with you and your husband on a matter of the greatest urgency, but would rather not do so in the view of prying eyes." At these words he gestured vaguely at the street behind him, and he knew they would convince her. However much she enjoyed spying on others, Petunia Dursley did not like to be an object of scrutiny herself. Of course, she had no idea that should the neighbours be spying, the wards he had cast would prevent them from seeing anything.

"Yes of course, I'll get him immediately. Let me show you to the sitting room."

As he was led into the familiar room, while Petunia disappeared off to find Vernon, Caspian once more cast out charms with his wand, this time temporarily warding the room against the children in the house, so that they would be disinclined to enter, and desirous to ignore any conversation that might be going on in it until they were themselves invited inside.

Pocketing it once more, he placed his hands behind his back, turning his attention to the collection of family photos on the mantelpiece; all of them woefully void of a scrawny figure with messy black hair and glasses.

The sound of steps nearing the room made him turn around, just in time to see Petunia come in again, now accompanied by Vernon.

Not leaving him a chance to talk, Caspian started to explain. "Good evening sir. As I told your wife, I had to come here on a matter of urgent business." He paused, before facing Petunia. "I am, madam, the cousin of you deceased brother-in- law."

Petunia blanched at this, while Vernon's familiar purple complexion of rage slowly started to emerge. Before he could utter a single syllable however, Caspian raised his hand to him in a silencing gesture, and he found himself unable to speak.

"I have been out of the country for much of the last ten years, and was therefore unfortunately uninformed of my cousin's death or his son's placement with you until very recently. As James and I knew each other only briefly, I can very well understand how his placement with me was overlooked, but I am sure you can understand the appeal for him growing up in an environment matching his heritage."

"His heritage?" Petunia managed finally, expression caught somewhere between anger and horrified panic.

Caspian ignored this and continued easily. "Yes. His wizarding heritage." Both muggles would have though Caspian had just pronounced a particularly vile curseword, or perhaps confessed to being a psychotic axe murderer.

Petunia nearly fainted, and Vernon's face finally morphed from whitish-grey to puce, his horror turning into rage. He unfortunately seemed to recover his voice, which though still not managing a yell, was already a rather loud growl which was disagreeable enough to Caspian's ears.

"You're one of them aren't you? One of those Freaks? How dare you come in here and mention your abnormal…."

But once again, Caspian's hand cut him off. "Mr. Dursley, with all due respect, let me advise you to refrain from uttering such offensive discourse as you were just about to do. I can offer you the patience and respect you deserve as my host, but even I have my limits. You would do well not to try them." The tone was calm, yet the threat underneath it was clear. Vernon's rage redoubled and he was just about to retort when his wife laid a halting hand on his arm. Catching the stricken look on her ashen face, Vernon relented, grudgingly.

It was Petunia who spoke next. "You want…..you want to adopt the boy?"

Caspian nodded. "I want to take him as my ward yes." His expression turned cold and a frown graced his face as he gestured towards the mantelpiece pictures. "I am under no illusions regarding the feelings you bear the boy, nor the rest of 'our lot', and know that you could have no imaginable reticence in leaving him to me."

Petunia grew defensive. "We never asked for him! Dropped off in the middle of the night with that letter, when they knew very well we wanted nothing to do with the lot of you." Here she straightened, and sneering back at him added, "after all, I made my feelings clear to her quite enough times for it to have been hammered in. And we were right! Look where it led her, all that dangerous nonsense: blown up by another one of you freaks!"

Here Caspian swiftly reached for his wand, which was pointed a second later to Petunia's face.

"I do not make idle threats Mrs. Dursley. You would do well to heed the words I spoke to your husband. Lily Potter was a fantastic witch, and an even better mother, and I'll not have you shaming her memory because of your petty jealousies." At this Petunia flushed an angry red, while her hands started to shake.

"Now, I have papers for you to sign and I'd like a quick word with your nephew before I go. I'm going to file the papers tomorrow, and I'll be ready to pick him up Monday evening after school."

"Why can't you take the bloody freak with you now? As soon as both of you are gone won't be too soon if you ask me!" growled Vernon.

"Which is why no one is asking you, sir." Caspian replied with icy steel. "And though I would like nothing better than to take Harry tonight and never have him endure another day in your presence, I must file the papers first; lest I want to be accused of kidnapping. I would like to see Harry quickly tonight for this reason."

"All right. We'll sign your bloody papers, and we'll wait till Monday, but after that, I'm throwing him out whether you take him or not, he's not welcome here. I've had enough of the whole lot of you. Unnatural bunch of layabouts."

Caspian presented the papers, indicating the places where each had to sign, then folded them up carefully in his jacket as Vernon stormed out and Petunia fetched Harry.

She left as soon as they came, and Caspian's heart ached at the all-too transparent terror visible in the boy's face as he found himself alone with a stranger. Easing the atmosphere with a warm smile, and channeling Fawkes' magic from his wand as he fingered it in his coat pocket, he sent out a soothing wave of power from the polished holly which felt vaguely similar to the calming effects of phoenix song.

"Hello Harry."

Harry's countenance was already calmer, and his reply, though quietly spoken, was followed by a hesitant smile.

"Hullo sir. Aun' P'tunia said you wann'ed to talk to me 'bout somethin'?"

His speech stumbled slightly, as could be expected in that of a small boy just starting school, but apart from that, as well as the leftover nervousness, he was relatively composed, and of an exemplary politeness for one so young.

Caspian's own smile widened at this.

"Yes Harry. I've come to talk to you about something very important. Can you come here and sit so we chat?"

With an expression very like Dobby the house elf had had when he had asked him to sit down thirteen years in his own past, Harry stumbled out that he wasn't "s'pos'd to sit on anything in the sitting room, 'cause he'd get them dirty".

Caspian shook his head. "That's ridiculous, Harry. We're in the sitting room. Why would people call it that if you were meant to stay standing, hmm?"

Looking very dubious at Caspian's argument, yet not having an answer to give him, Harry eventually came forward, albeit extremely reluctantly, and clumsily pulled himself on to the edge of the couch.

"Now I don't suppose your aunt told you who I was?"

Harry shyly shook his head, biting his lip, as though expecting to be blamed for his state of ignorance.

Caspian placed a gentle hand on his arm, and after a brief tensing of the boys muscles, he relaxed, and let himself sink into the comforting touch. Good. Dudley's bullying and his father's more than occasional beatings had not yet affected Harry too deeply. Though now that Caspian thought about it, they hadn't escalated until he got older, worsening progressively as he neared Hogwarts' age. Thankful the most damaging years of his own childhood would be averted, he maintained his smile, and spoke to Harry in the gentlest voice he could manage, answering his own question himself.

"No worries, Harry, I can present myself. My name's Caspian. Caspian Peverell. Your father was my cousin."

Harry's eyes widened immediately, and the nervous expression turned to shock and wonder.

"My,…my father, sir?"

Caspian's expression turned into a mock stern one, and he shook his head at Harry. "No calling me sir Harry, please. It makes me feel old. Call me Caspian. Or Uncle Caz if that's what you prefer. Okay?"

"Yes si…;I mean, Uncle Caz"

"Good. Then we can talk about why I called you here. You see, when your mum and dad died; they brought you here to your relatives, because your aunt was your mum's sister. Now since I was your dad's cousin, that makes us relatives as well. Which means Harry, that if you want; you could come and live with me."

"Go…go live with you si…Uncle Caz?"

"Yes Harry. If that's what you want."

"Leave the Dursleys? Never come back?"

"Never come back."

Harry smiled widely, before his look of euphoria suddenly dropped.

"Why?"

Caspian frowned. "Why what?"

"Why do you wan' 'o take me home? The Dursleys never wan'ed me, and you didn' 'til today 'cause I've never seen you. So why do you want me now?" Harry practically spat out. He seemed to regret the words as soon as he said them though; covering his mouth desperately with both hands as if that would take them back. But Caspian took this all in his stride, once again sending the small boy a warm smile, while squeezing the shoulder in his hand reassuringly.

"It's not that I didn't want you Harry. I was away, away for a very long time, and I didn't come back until very recently. I didn't hear of your parent's death until very late, which is why I didn't come as quick as I'd have liked. I promise I'd have come sooner if I could have. You're my family; I wouldn't leave you if I could help it."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"So I can live with you?"

"Yes." He got out the papers again. "All you need to do is sign right here, with this." He pointed to the document and handed Harry the quill. "Will you have any trouble writing out your name?"

At Harry's indignant exclamation that he wasn't stupid (in fact he had learnt how to spell out his name some months previously), Caspian smiled even wider and handed him the quill. "Be careful, it's a little trickier with a quill. Just make sure you write out Hadrian James Potter instead of Harry, they need your full name."

"Hadrian?" asked the boy uncertainly.

Caspian smiled. He hadn't been made aware of his proper birth name until he had received his Diploma from Hogwarts months after the war. It had been written out to his full name, unlike the O.W.L. and preliminary N.E.W.T. results which had been sent out to Mr. H. J. Potter. While he'd used his more familiar name with friends and family, he'd been pleased to have a name which did not make him sound like a child.

"It's your full name. Harry is what your family and friends called you."

"Which is why you call me Harry?"

"Exactly."

"And James?"

Caspian frowned. He knew he had scarcely known anything about his parents before going to Hogwarts apart from their names, but he had completely forgotten that he hadn't even been aware of those until much later in his childhood. He had only found out his father's name when he was seven and had heard Petunia had cursing "that dratted James Potter" out loud." The fact that his father's first name was also his second one hadn't been discovered until Hogwarts.

"Yes. James Henry Potter. Your father. The Dursleys never told you much about your parents, did they?"

Caspian knew this was going to lead into dangerous territory, but he didn't want Harry to continue believing a lie. Harry shook his head gently.

"Well then. Why don't you tell me what you do know, and we'll go from there?"

Harry nodded slightly before saying, "I know Mum was Aun'P'tunia's littl'sister, and now you'v' told me Dad's name. All that they told me after that was that they died in a car crash when I was a baby 'cause they careless fools and that it got me this scar. He pulled away the bangs of his unruly hair and revealed the familiar scar which the addition of another in continuation of it on Caspian's face made unrecognizable. Said scar had also faded greatly after the destruction of the Horcrux within it during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Caspian shook his head. He hoped he managed to put this in a way that wouldn't be too emotionally traumatic for Harry, but he didn't want to lie to him either. "I'm sorry to say your Aunt and Uncle haven't been entirely honest with you Harry."

The questioning air he got in response was enough for him to continue. He wondered detachedly whether a five year old would prove easier to convince than an eleven year old. He took a deep breath. Here goes.

"What do you know about magic, Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened again, before he answered. "Uncle Vernon sais it doesn't exist. That it's a load of rubbish and that people who do tricks are nothing but scond'els trying to steal well earned money from respec'able hardworkin' men like him."

"Well, Vernon's wrong Harry, magic is real. And not just those tricks people do for shows or on Television, real magic, that witches and wizards can do."

"Wizards are real?" Harry asked amazed.

Caspian grinned. "They are. In fact, I'm a wizard myself and so were your parents." Here he took the hand away from Harry's shoulder and poked him gently in the chest. "So are you Harry."

If possible, Harry's eyes only went wider. "Me, si…Uncle Caz? But that's not possible. I don' have magic! I can't. If I did I….I…." Here Harry seemed to get rather desperate, and Caspian once again placed the soothing hand on his shoulder. "You're a wizard Harry, believe me. I couldn't believe it either when I was told, but believe me you are. Don't you remember strange things happening, which you might have gotten into trouble for, but couldn't explain?"

Harry gasped in realization, as Caspian knew he would. His accidental magic had become more frequent as he became older, as well as generally more powerful, but he knew five year old Harry had already spent more than one afternoon locked in his cupboard for 'freaky behaviour'.

"Dudley's t'ycicle, when he was learning how to ride. I wanted a go on it and he wouldn' let me, but when he went on just after, he lost control of the pedals and crashed into Mr. Ande'son's front garden. And Miss Ashbury's hair turned blue two months ago when she scolded me for the mess Dudley had made in the playroom. I was so mad….."

"That was your magic reacting." Caspian nodded, remembering both incidents very vaguely, as they had happened a very long time ago for him. "It's something normal for all young wizards before they go to school. Even sometimes afterwards." He laughed suddenly. "I had already finished my second year of school when I accidentally blew up someone like a balloon for badmouthing my parents.

Harry's eyes widened again.

"Did they 'xplode? And where'd you go to school to learn magic?"

Caspian chuckled. "I was mainly privately tutored, but you'll go to Hogwarts, like your parents. It's the principal school for Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain, just like Durmstrang in Scandanavia, and the Beauxbatons Academy of Magics in France. And no, she didn't explode, but I was happy about that really, because I'd have gotten in big trouble."

He grinned at Harry, who grinned back. Caspian's heart soared. A full faced grin. Harry's life was already taking a turn for the better.

"I wish I could blow up all the people that said mean stuff 'bout mum and dad" he said honestly, "then they'd leave me alone."

Caspian chuckled again. "I'm afraid you won't be learning to explode anything just yet child, and when you do I hardly think the Ministry of Magic would take too kindly to you doing it to people."

"Min'stry of Magic?"

"It's our government. There's the Minister for Magic, which is kind of like the Prime Minister, and then there are different departments within the Ministry, each with its own Head. Its main job is to keep the Magical world hidden from the non-magical one, which we call the Muggle world. Muggles are people that don't have magic." Harry nodded, taking this all in. Caspian hoped he was doing a better job at explaining this than Hagrid.

"So you're my uncle, and so you're 'dopting me, and you're a wizard, like mum and dad and I am. And one day I'll go to wizard school at Hogwhats because that's the main wizardry school in the country. And wizards have a gove'nment just like in the Mu...Muddle world." He raised his eyes to Caspian's in askance, and the latter let out a hearty laugh. "Muggle. People born without magic are called muggles and its Hogwarts, but apart from that Harry, your summary was quite satisfactory."

He beamed at the boy as he said this, who promptly blushed at the praise. That, thought Caspian wryly, was something that had never changed. He'd still flushed tomato red three years back when Lysander made a commendation of Caspian's dueling skills the first time he had beaten Severus .

His smile dimmed. Now was the hard part.

"There's something else I have to tell you Harry. You know how you were told your parents died? In a car crash?"

Harry nodded fearfully, wondering where this was going.

"That never happened." He sighed, not knowing how to start. He gave Harry a serious look. "Listen carefully to what I'm going to say, Harry, because this is really important, all right?"

At Harry's hasty nod, he started "What you have to understand, Harry, is that magic isn't all good. Just like there are good and bad things and people in the Muggle world, there are also good and bad wizards out there, some of whom aren't afraid to hurt others." Harry was nodding along to himself, with a serious look on his face, sensing that what he was being told was important.

"Now about fifteen years ago, there was this really bad wizard that started hurting a lot of people. His name was Voldemort. He'd spent years gathering followers and power in secret, but it was only then that he came out into the open. He started attacking people left and right. Wizard families, muggle families. Important people that he wanted to otherthrow." Harry's brow had furrowed in concentration as he strived not to miss a single word. "People became scared. Very scared. Scared enough that they no longer opposed him, did not even dare to say his name. But that only made things worse, because the more people hid in their fear, the less they were prepared to fight back. Now, there was a group of people who realized this, and they saw that if no one tried to stop him it would only get harder to stop him in the end. So they got together and worked to stop Voldemort as best they could. They tried to protect families that the he targeted, and to capture his followers to limit his powers. The problem is that Voldemort was still really strong. A lot of people were dying. Soon the fighting turned into a war. "

Harry nodded slowly, making connections. As much as a five year old could anyway.

"My mum and dad," he began slowly "they were with the fighters weren' they? They wanted to fight Voldawart?"

Caspian fought back a laugh at Harry's mispronunciation. This wasn't the time to joke. He nodded in answer to the question. "Yes. They helped fight Voldemort during the war with their friends. But then you were born and they didn't want to put you in danger. So when they found out that Voldemort was going after your family they decided to go into hiding. They were safe for a while but someone went to Voldemort and told him where you and your parents were."

"Some one 'trayed us?" Harry asked outrage. While dry of tears, his eyes seemed exceptionally bright, and his small limbs were shaking. Caspian reached over and gathered him in his arms, hugging the boy to himself while rubbing his back in a soothing motion. He had done the same for Teddy before his two year old godson had been killed, by the same bastard that had bitten his father. But Caspian had had his revenge. He had made sure of that. Maintaining the embrace; Caspian continued again, his voice softer, "Yes. They were betrayed. Voldemort found your family. Your parents tried to protect you but he was too strong and he killed them. But when Voldemort tried to kill you after , it didn' t work, he couldn't do it. The love from your mother's sacrifice stopped the curse from working, and threw it back to Voldemort instead."

"So he died? Voldywart? He's gone ?"

Caspian shook his head sadly. "I don't think so, Harry. No one knows for sure, because he disappeared. But I doubt it. He was obsessed with living forever, and I wouldn't put it past him to do whatever it took to stay alive. I think if he'd been dead there would have been a body, but only his cloak was left. No I think he's hiding out somewhere, biding his time, trying to get strong again."

Harry looked up in terror at the implications. "Do you think he will?"

Caspian looked at him dead on. His gaze held no false hopes, but neither did they hold despair.

"Harry, an old and wise wizard once told me, that evil is never destroyed, but simply kept at bay as long as there are still those willing to fight against it. However bad he is, Voldemort is smart, so I don't doubt he'll find a way." He lifted a gentle hand to quiet Harry's exclamation of panic. "However, even if Voldemort is smart, so are we. So that even when he comes back, there will be those that will be prepared to fight him just like your parents and so many others did before. I did not tell this to scare you needlessly, Harry, nor to give you the impression that all is lost." He squeezed the boy's shoulder again. "I did it because you need to understand. To know, that sometimes the world isn't a perfect place and that its hard work to make it better, like your parents did for you. Now you're still young, Harry, and you have your entire childhood ahead of you, and I don't want you to waste it worrying. Your parents wouldn't have wanted that. They would have wanted you to live. Live because that's the best way you can repay what they did for you. A lot of people would not understand. They would say that I should not tell you this, that you are too young to get it. And I know there are things we'll have to go over before you're older. But still, I had to tell you. You should know. You deserved to know what your parents died for. You needed to know."

Harry looked into the eyes of his newly discovered uncle, trying to make sense of all he had heard. He would be lying if he said he had understood everything, or if he said that none of it scared him. It did. Talking about death and mean men that destroyed families, it was scary. Especially for a five year old. But still, Harry was glad his Uncle had told him. After five years in which he'd had his fair share of hardships, first with the loss of his parents, and then with life at the Dursleys, Harry had been forced to develop a certain measure of wisdom that was beyond his years. He already knew only too well, mostly from experience, that some people weren't nearly as nice as others, and that people got hurt all too easily. And he knew from listening to Caspian that he would never take his parents' sacrifice lightly. That at least he had understood perfectly. They had died so he would live, so he would make sure he did just that. He would make them proud.

Harry nodded to Caspian once more, in something that could have been construed as acceptance. Hugging the older wizard's chest tightly from where he still sat in his lap, Harry asked "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry they aren't here, and I wish they were, but at least I know why they can't be. " he hesitated slightly. "But I've got you Uncle Caz, right?

Caspian smiled. "Yes Harry, you do. I'll take care of you. Of the both of us. And the rest of the wizarding world, apparently. You'll see."