Title: Godric's Hollow

Pairings: None

Characters: The Dursleys

Rating: PG

Timeline: Between chapters 57 and 58 of Brave New Hope

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me - my writing is not for profit.

Summary: Everything was different in that pretty little village. Much different. Quinn liked it.

A/N:I had this one drafted a long time ago but didn't seem able to fit it anywhere. Finally, the time came. Sorry about the lateness but I had essays and exams non-stop for the past five weeks - next chapter of Brave New Hope should be up sometime nest week :D Enjoy this little interlude in the meanwhile

Godric's Hollow, 30 January 1998

Everything was different in that pretty little village. Much different. Quinn liked it.

The houses looked like they should have dolls in them instead of real people and the streets were made of actual stone. At a distance there were trees instead of more houses like there used to be at home. And, more important, it snowed. It snowed a lot. Enough for her to make snowmen in the backyard – a whole family of them.

Dedalus and Hestia said they should have left for another town weeks before, but her father had refused. For once, Quinn agreed with him, although he never said it to Dedalus and Hestia in a way that would make him sound nice, even though they were always good to him.

He was never nice these days – not to her, not to her mum, not even to Dudley. When she asked why, Dudley told her it was because there wasn't anyone around to fool anymore – she didn't understand what that meant but she knew he always looked upset when he said it. Not as upset as he'd been, though, when they'd overheard a fight between Mum and Dad a few days before and their father had called Quinn her mother's 'little bastard'. When she'd asked Dudley what that was, he'd told her it meant she was the lucky one but that she shouldn't go around saying it because it was rude. It didn't make much sense to Quinn that saying someone was lucky could also be rude but the truth was that since that day Dudley hadn't said a single word to their parents.

She didn't mind that last part, really, because as long as he was avoiding Mum and Dad, he was spending more time with her building snowman and snow forts. Theirs were the bestest, Quinn knew. Not because they were prettier but because they'd last so, so long, even when the sun was shining. Hestia told her it was because of her magic – it would make the snow stronger when she wished it wouldn't melt. She and Dedalus told her and Dudley a lot of things about Magic: about the school in the fairy-tale castle, about the wands and the broomsticks, about the funny sport they played on them… it sounded fun and it made Quinn wish she was eleven already so she could live it all.

They always laughed and told her not to hurry because they had plenty to fix before her turn came – in the meanwhile, she wasn't supposed to use magic out in the open, especially in front of her father. They never said it was because he hated magic but she knew he did – he was always called magical people 'freaks', which by extension would make her a freak too. She didn't mind being a freak if it would make her fix dying flowers and allow her to build the best snowman ever. But he already didn't like her much, so if he knew she was magic too, he might just try to lock her up in the shed for good. She knew Dudley was around to spring her but she'd rather just avoid it in the first place – it always smelled so musty…

But the shed was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment – she was building another snowman. The third, she added in her mind, to keep the other two – a little one and a bigger one that were herself and Dudley's likeness in her mind – some company.

"I can't reach the face," she told her brother as she stood on her tiptoes by the snowman, trying to reach up with a handful of broken pieces of wood in her hands. "Help me up, Dudley."

"The face? What for? It's already finished – it has eyes, a nose and a mouth," Dudley replied.

Quinn shook her head. "Something's still missing. Please?"

Dudley sighed. "Alright," he agreed as he picked her up, lifting her so she could reach the new snowman's head. He could hardly ever say 'no' to Quinn these days. Not when he knew what he knew – life wasn't going to be easy for her, because his father was a monumental arse and wouldn't give Quinn a shred of compassion even though she wasn't guilty of anything and their mother was too much of a coward to stick up for her daughter. She was just a kid, after all – he remembered being spoiled rotten at her age, yet she didn't even get a tenth of the attention he had back then from his parents. Then again, maybe them ignoring her was all for the best – his parents were toxic, he'd grown to realize, and god knew how close he'd been to becoming the same. She stood a much better chance of becoming a minimally decent person without them messing with her head as they'd messed with his. And she'd always have him, he promised himself, regardless of magic, blood or anything else that turned up. Maybe it wasn't as good as having decent parents but it was better than nothing. "You're getting a little too big for this, you know? Being seven and all," he commented as he watched her placing the broken pieces of wood on the snowman's forehead. "What's that you're doing, Quinnie?"

"A scar," she replied.

"A scar? Why are you giving the snowman a scar?"

"Because Harry has one too," she easily explained. "I saw it. It looked like a lightning-bolt."

Dudley raised his eyebrows. "Wait, Harry? Our cousin Harry? The one that's like you?"

Quinn nodded. "He's the only Harry I know," she pointed out.

"Right… so this snowman is him?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why? We barely know him."

"I thought it might give him good luck," she replied in the most natural tone on Earth. "He seemed nice. I hope he wins against the bad man."

Dudley frowned. "Where did you hear that? That he's going against the 'bad man', I mean?"

The little girl shrugged. "I hear things."

"You hear far too much," he replied with a sigh. "Where does it say making someone's snowman will give them good luck, anyway?"

Quinn shrugged again and just kept on building the scar on the snowman's forehead. "I dunno. But I think if we wish really hard, anything can give good luck." She turned to her brother and smiled. "Don't you?"

He looked a bit sceptical for a few seconds but eventually just shrugged in acceptance. "Why not?" he mumbled. "If it turns out not to be the case, you can do your magic to make it give him good luck, anyway."

The little girl smiled widely. "I can. There," she said, nodding at the scar-bearing snowman. "Now all that's missing is the glasses."

"I'll see what I can do about th…"

"Dudley!" they suddenly heard Vernon's voice calling.

He stood at the house's backdoor, eyeing them both sternly, mainly Quinn, who mostly ignored it. She'd gotten used to ignoring him, seeing as he mostly did the same about her as well.

Dudley, on the other hand, glared at his father just as his father glared at him, refraining from saying a word in reply.

"What are you doing wasting time back here when you should be studying for you're A-levels?" Vernon asked. "They don't just accept slackers in King's College."

Dudley pursed his lips together as he put Quinn down. "The A-levels are not for months and I've already told I am not going to King's College."

"If this is about that police rubbish again, I won't take it, you hear me? Enough of that codswallop! Now quit wasting time with the girl and go study!"

"The 'girl' has a name," Dudley replied.

"I know she does. Now get inside," Vernon replied dismissively.

"Say it. Say her name," his son urged him.

"What for? She knows her own name. Don't you, girl?" he asked, glaring at Quinn.

She nodded faintly in response in response, taking a step back. She could take it when her parent's fought – it was so much part of her routine it had become easy to ignore. When Dudley was the one being yelled at, though, she hated it. He wasn't mean like them. He didn't deserve it.

"Stop it!" Dudley said. "Mum's the one who screwed up, not her! Why do you treat her like everything's her fault?"

"It is none of your business…"

She didn't take it, anymore. Now they were fighting about her. It made her hate it even more, to the point that she couldn't stand it. She wanted it to be over or she wanted to go away. And so it happened – Quinn wasn't even focusing on the gate when the lock snapped open but she certainly ran for it and slipped out once she saw the chance. Dudley and their father were so focused on their fight, they didn't even see her leaving.

She knew she shouldn't have done that. Quinn wasn't supposed to lea ve the house alone unless someone was coming to hurt her – Hestia had said so many times and so far she'd obeyed. Not that time – then, she didn't really bother to think that she'd get grounded, maybe shoved into the shed like her mother told her that her father would do if he saw her using magic. She just wanted to leave, far away from the fight.

She wasn't sure how long or how far she walked. It wasn't a big village and she didn't really leave it – just walked in circles along its streets – but still she couldn't really tell which way was the one back home since they didn't come out much. It scared her a little that she didn't know the way back home but not enough to stop her – she didn't want to go back yet, so there would be time to worry about it later… after her father was done yelling at Dudley.

She heard the music coming from inside the church when she passed by it and considered going inside – it was getting cold out there. She hesitated before doing it, though, as her eyes reached the nearby field with all the stones and tiny grey houses. On one of the few times her mother had taken her there since they'd moved, Dudley had told her it was the graveyard, where they put people after they died, like her Aunt Lily and her class's hamster had. It seemed awfully lonely and even sadder that nobody was there – for a moment, she wondered if dead people felt lonely. She wasn't sure what happened to them after dying but being stuck in such a downcast place ought to feel bad, especially if they were alone… or maybe they were happy enough in each other's company…

All of a sudden, though, she blinked and, at the same time a faint cracking sound reached her ears, where there was no one, a dark shape of a person appeared. It must be an actual person, she thought, since it didn't look anything like a shapeless foggy ghost like Casper.

Actually, the fact that it appeared out of thin air on one of the graveyard's secluded corners didn't really shock her at all – it might have if she hadn't seen it happening so many times whenever Hestia and Dedalus came by. They appeared out of nowhere sometimes, just as the dark-cloaked figured just had at the graveyard. Like magic. Like her.

Whoever it was, it didn't see her as it moved slowly along the halls between tombstones, headed to a particular one, where it stopped. It wore black clothes, shaped like the ones Hestia and Dedalus did – big, loose dresses they called 'robes'. Not the sort of thing her parents or any of her neighbours back home would wear. That just served to prove her that her gut was right – that it was like her… the person. It was magic too.

She should have been scared and ran but, more than anything, she was curious – what was someone like her doing there? There were mostly regular people in that town – Muggles, Dedalus and Hestia called them. That fact alone draw her towards it even though she knew it should have driven her away. They said there were bad people who were also magical, like the bad man, but that cloaked figure couldn't be bad, could it? It was visiting someone in the graveyard. That meant it missed that person. So, it had to be good, right? Bad people didn't care, did they?

She wasn't even going to talk to it, Quinn told herself as she walked slowly towards the graveyard – she was just going to watch it from a distance. That wouldn't hurt.

Quinn walked along the graveyard's walls, taking cover behind the largest tombs so the stranger wouldn't see her. It was a man, she noticed at a distance when she settled in a hiding spot a few yards from him. Tall and with black hair that looked somewhat wet – she couldn't see much more than that as his back was turned to her. And he wouldn't move, or show any sign that would definitely confirm he was like her – he just stood in front of the grave, unmoving. Whoever was in there, he must miss it very much.

Curiosity took over once more as she decided to move somewhere with a better view – she needed to see, to know. She wasn't sure why but she did. However, she was only able to take a couple of steps as, after accidentally stepping on a branch, the man's face turned reflexively towards her. Well, he was magical alright, Quinn concluded easily just as soon as she found herself facing his wand. But he didn't attack – he just stared at her like he was looking at a ghost.

Severus Snape had a very firm vision of the world. There was good and there was bad: during his life, he'd worked for both and, at the moment, he felt somewhere in the middle, stuck between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do. There were people and there were monsters and, in some cases, it was hard to tell the difference between them. There were ghosts too: the translucent kind that inhabited Hogwarts and the clearer sort that haunted his mind. For several moments as he stood in that graveyard, he was sure he was standing in front of some sort of projection from one of the latter. The clearest ghost he'd ever seen: Lily. He allowed himself to believe it for several seconds, both rejoicing and grieving for it.

It took him about as long to realize he was wrong. The creature in front of him wasn't child-aged Lily haunting him – Lily was gone, buried several feet beneath him in that graveyard. His alleged master had killed her, although he'd been the one pushing her away long before that had happened. The creature in front of him was an actual child: so hauntingly similar and yet so clearly different from Lily Evans. Her hair was lighter, just a hint of Lily's red marring the blonde of her plaited hair, her eyes bluer, although there was still a hint of green in them, her features softer and much more child-like than he remembered Lily's ever being. She eyed him with a look of confusion and all-so-familiar compassion in her young face. Who was that child? He asked himself. Was he just spotting the similarities because he wanted them there? Because it was Lily's birthday that day?

By the time he composed himself, he finally spoke. "What are you doing here on your own, girl?" he inquired, still eyeing her closely as he lowered his wand. The girl eyed it with curiosity but didn't ask what it was.

She hesitated for a second before answering him as well – she was considering if she should tell him the truth. That she was like him and was curious. But that was the big secret. That she was magic. And not just from her father – she'd heard Dedalus telling Dudley that the bad people were hurting people like her: magical people born into non-magical families. Dudley had told her so many times she couldn't tell or show anyone she was magical… she could only do it in the backyard, where the spells wouldn't let anyone but them see it. So, maybe she shouldn't say it. She was already in so much trouble and she really didn't want to get hurt… "Just walking around," she lied.

Even the voice sounded similar, Snape thought, to the one he remembered from when he and Lily were both children. By then, he was fairly sure he was imagining it. All the similarities… It was the grief, surely.

"On your own? Where are your parents?" he asked sceptically.

She shrugged. He had a soft voice, although it was clearly commanding – not like her father's, though. His was just mean. "Home."

"And do they know you're here?" When she didn't respond, he took that as a 'no'. "Little girls have no business sneaking around and worrying their parents."

Quinn shrugged once again. "They won't worry. They don't mind me much," she said evenly. "My brother might, though. He's nice."

Snape frowned. He knew that tone. He knew those words. Resigned disappointment. He'd felt that oh so many times growing up. He didn't bring it up, though. The child needed to go – the more he looked at her, the more similarities and differences to Lily he'd cook up in his mind.

"I had an aunty with that name," he heard her declaring all of a sudden. His eyes flashed to the girl like arrows. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed her moving closer but, at that moment, she stood just a couple of feet away, looking at Lily's grave.

"What?"

"Lily," she said. "My aunt's name was Lily. I never met her but she was really pretty," Quinn told him. "I saw some pictures. She's dead now too."

Snape stared some more. A little girl who looked like Lily. A little girl with an aunt who shared Lily's name. No, he told himself. Coincidence… or maybe not. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. It was the grief and the stress… deceiving everyone could mess with a person. All the lying and theatrics… the constant need for occlumency… it was taking a hold of him. He knew he was already slacking at protecting the students from the Carrows – they were starting to get away with too much and he was too tired to fight every single battle. And the children just wouldn't learn to lay low – the amount of times he'd sent Alecto and Amycus on outdoors assignments in order to cover the meetings from Black, Weasley and Longbottom's little club was just staggering. He shouldn't even care about protecting them – they had it coming, after all, for being so bloody incorrigible. He'd made Dumbledore a promise, however, and was keeping it until his dying breath it for Lily – she certainly wouldn't have appreciated him allowing her son's girlfriend (although Ginny Weasley undoubtedly fought hard to make everyone believe she was anything but) and the girl who should have been her goddaughter to be on the wrong end of one of Alecto and Amycus's punishments. So, obviously, it was perfectly plausible for him to be exhausted… maybe to the point of hallucination.

"Was she your family?" Quinn found herself asking.

"A friend," he replied simply, wondering why he was even talking to the girl. He'd never been one to have patience for children and he was fairly sure that one wasn't even there. But all those similarities… it made him feel, even if just a little, like he was talking to Lily again.

"She probably misses you too," Quinn told him.

Snape sighed. Clearly a hallucination – it knew his feelings and everything… "I doubt it," he said.

The little girl frowned. "Why not? You were her friend. I miss my friends when they're away," she reasoned.

That sounded less like something he'd think up, but still… "I wasn't a very good friend," he stated.

"That's silly. You're here now. Why would you be here if you weren't a good friend? No one else is here visiting them – the people who died. You are, though," she said

He stared at the little girl. His mind had to be playing some elaborate tricks on him – because, really, he knew for sure that he wasn't anywhere near that forgiving, least of all with himself. He needed a good night of sleep and a round of mind-clearing potions. Maybe more.

"Quinn!" he suddenly heard someone calling from a distance.

The little girl turned around, startled by the call – apparently, the hallucination had a name; apparently it was Quinn; and apparently there were people looking for her, Snape concluded. To be honest, the whole thing was starting to feel a little too… complex for it to just be a hallucination. But what other explanation was there?

"Oh, that's my brother," Quinn said when she saw him coming her way.

Snape nodded as he saw the teenager running in their direction. The boy didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention at first, instead jus kneeling in front of his sister with a concerned look on his face. "Good god, Quinn, what got into you? I looked everywhere for you!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't want to hear Dad yelling at you because of me.

"It wasn't because of you – he was just being an ar… he was just being Dad," Dudley assured her. "Don't do that again, okay?" It was only then he really perceived they were not alone. He stood up, facing the man by Quinn's side, and the first thing he noticed was that he dressed like Hestia and Dedalus did. That wasn't good. "Er… I'm sorry if she was bothering you, sir."

"She wasn't," Snape mumbled.

"Right. Good," Dudley said. "She can be pretty talkative sometimes. I suppose we can get going…" He stopped talking all of a sudden, though, when he got a glimpse of the name on the grave the man was visiting. Lily Potter… and right by it, James Potter. Harry's parents – he'd heard those names from Hestia and Dedalus when they told old stories of the first Order. Why was that man visiting their graves? Why were their graves there in the first place?

"Dudley?" Quinn said.

"Er…yeah," Dudley mumbled. "Let's just leave Mr…" he paused when he realised he didn't know the man's name "…let's just go home." And, with that, he promptly snatched Quinn's hand into his.

"Okay. Bye," Quinn told Snape. "It was nice to meet you."

The headmaster's only response was a nod even though, strangely, he felt like he could sincerely reply in the same manner.

He still wasn't sure what the girl was: a real child, the product of an elaborate hallucination, some sort of ghostly presence… Being her presence there coincidence or not, there was something about that girl, or at least his perception of her, that was very Lily… very healing. So, for once in his life, he decided to forego logic and take that as a sign. A sign that he was threading the right path, doing the right things to earn Lily's posthumous forgiveness.

With that, he conjured a white lily and placed it on its namesake's grave with a sigh. "Happy birthday, Lily," he wished his fallen friend.

Dudley spent the whole way home telling her over and over again not to do that again. Not to run away, not to go talking to strangers, not to scare him like that ever again. She nodded every time, feeling a little bit ashamed.

"I found her!" he shouted to someone behind her just as they stood just a few yards away from their house.

She turned around and spotted her mother coming their way. Running, in fact, at the same time she appeared to be crying, Quinn noted with some surprise. Crying a lot, apparently, as her eyes were really red and wet. When she reached them, her mother eyed her with strange eyes. Then, to her surprise, she picked her up from Dudley's arms and held her firmly against her chest. Hugging her.

Quinn felt herself tensing with the surprise. Her mother hadn't hugged her in a very long time or stroked her hair the way she was doing it at that moment. Quinn wasn't sure what to do faced with that – should she try to hug her back? Maybe that would make her mother pull away like she had so many times when she'd tried to reach out for comfort – but she didn't want her to pull away. Being hugged felt good…

"You're okay," Petunia was saying. "Oh, you're okay – I thought someone might've taken you." She pulled back a little to look her daughter in the eyes. Hers were still red and puffy, Quinn saw. "Where did you go, Quinnie?"

She gave her mother a suspicious look before answering. She hadn't called her 'Quinnie' in a long time either. Only Dudley did these days. "Away," she replied simply. "Dad was yelling at Dudley. I didn't like it. I don't like it when you do it either."

Petunia stared at her for several seconds before finding her voice. "I… I'm so sorry, Quinn," she said before turning to her son. "I am. Very sorry."

Dudley didn't reply to her apology. Instead, he chose to shift the conversation somewhere else. "I found her in the graveyard talking to a man. He was wearing this odd gown like the ones Dedalus and Hestia wear – I think he might've been like Quinn. Magical."

Petunia stiffened a little at the word but quickly got over it, turning her attention to Quinn instead. "Did he do anything to you? That man? Did he hurt you? Did he…?"

Quinn shook her head. "We just talked. He didn't know I was there at first… and I don't think he was mean. He was just sad. I think he missed the lady in the grave."

"The grave?" Petunia asked, alarmed.

Her daughter nodded. "Her name was Lily. Like your…" she stopped talking suddenly, recalling her mother didn't allow them to speak of her sister in front of her. Or Harry. Or magic. She usually yelled very loud when they did. "Can I be put down?" she requested. All of a sudden being in her mother's arms didn't feel so comfortable anymore.

Petunia did so and Quinn quickly went to stand closer to Dudley than to her. The older woman tried not to feel bad about it. It was, after all, her own fault that her daughter felt the need to get away from her. Plus, there were more urgent matters to be resolved at the moment. She turned to Dudley, then, "Did you see if the name was…?" she whispered

He nodded before she could finish and promptly confirmed her fear. "The name on the grave was Lily Potter," he informed her. "And the one right by it was James Potter's. Those were their names, weren't they? Ha…"

"Yes," his mother quickly confirmed before he could finish. "Yes, they were."

"But what are they doing here of all places. Did you know this was where they were buried? Did they live here?" Dudley asked. He paused for a second, then. "Did… did they…" he mouthed the word 'die' to his mother, hoping Quinn, who'd taken to start drawing shapes on the snow with a stick, likely trying to look distracted while attempting (probably unsuccessfully) to overhear some of their conversation, wouldn't catch it "…here?"

Petunia nodded. "Yes, I did know. And I they did… on both instances."

"At the house we're staying in?" he inquired, alarmed.

"No! Dear lord, no," Petunia assured him. "Our house belonged to one of her teachers. Her headmaster's family, I think. The place where it happened was on the other side of the village. It's practically a pile of ruins now."

"And Dad still doesn't want to move, knowing that?"

His mother looked away. "Your father is a stubborn man."

"He's an idiot, more like," Dudley replied. "One thing is to settle in a village in no way connected to this… this war thing. But this… this is where it started, right? It's insane!"

"He's your father, Dudley. You need to be respectful – and talking that way about him surely isn't the way to achieve that. He's just looking out for your stability…"

"No, he's not. He just wants to have his way. Why do you keep taking his side? He treats you nearly as badly as he treats Quinn! I know you care for her in your own weird way but you always crumble to his will," he whispered furiously

"He's my husband."

Dudley gave her an incredulous look. "If that mattered so much to you, she wouldn't be here, would she?" he said, referring to his sister.

"Dudley!"

"What? Did he make that up? Because I didn't hear you denying it the other day, Mum," he pointed out.

"It's a delicate…"

"Oh, you've found her!" they heard Hestia shouting as she approached them. "Thank Merlin. Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked Quinn just as she reached her.

She nodded in response, just then realizing what an amount of trouble she'd caused. They'd even summoned Hestia, and probably Dedalus too, to look for her! They never summoned Hestia and Dedalus – the two of them just came to check on them every morning and it was long past that.

"Good. Gave us quite a scare, didn't you, Quinn?" the Order member turned to Dudley and Petunia. "Maybe we should get inside. It's not a good idea to just stand on the street unprotected these days. Shall we?"

Neither of the two responded. They just followed her in as she ushered Quinn inside. They found Vernon occupying a seat and the half of the living room sofa as he watched some news channel on the telly. He barely reacted when he saw Quinn was back – clearly, he didn't give a damn she was alright, just as he hadn't given a damn when Dudley noticed she was missing.

"So," Hestia started as they settled in the kitchen after she sent a Patronus over to Dedalus, saying they had Quinn. "What happened, after all? Why did you leave, Quinn?"

It was mostly Dudley who did the talking, as Quinn had gone very quiet all of a sudden. He told Hestia about looking for Quinn, finding her in the graveyard and the strange man visiting Lily Potter's grave, who he believed to be Magical.

"And you're sure he was one of us?" Hestia asked, scratching her chin with worry as Petunia took to expunging her frustrations on furiously scrubbing dishes.

"Well, no," Dudley admitted. "He didn't really use magic but he dressed like you and, well, he clearly knew my aunt, who was a witch."

The woman nodded. "Yes, I suppose those could be indications but…"

"He appeared out of nowhere," Quinn said. "Like you do."

"You mean he apparated?" Hestia asked, surprised.

Quinn nodded. "And he had a wand."

Dudley frowned. "Did he point it at you?"

"Just for a moment," she said. "I… I was spying on him. But he put it away when he saw it was me. He wasn't mean – just sad," she repeated.

"And what did he look like, sweetie?" Hestia inquires

Quinn shrugged. "Tall. Like a grownup."

Hestia chuckled. "Yes, but what colour was his hair? And his eyes?"

"He had black hair," the little girl said vaguely. "His eyes were sad but I don't remember the colour."

"And scars?"

"Like Harry's?" Quinn asked.

"Maybe. Anything out of the ordinary," the older woman told her.

Quinn shook her head. "I don't remember. Sorry."

"That's alright," Hestia assured her.

"Can I go?" the little girl asked. "I need to use the loo."

"Of course, sweetie. Go along. We'll call you if we need you," the Order member told her before Quinn got up and rushed out of the room, then up the stairs.

"It was her birthday today," Hestia and Dudley heard Petunia saying. She still stood at the sink, her back turned to them as she looked out the window while still holding a soap-covered plate.

"Whose?" Hestia asked.

"Lily's," the older woman replied. "I just remembered. The thirtieth of January."

"So, whoever it was, they were visiting her for her birthday," Dudley concluded. "Then it couldn't have been one of those Death something blokes. They were the ones who had her killed – why would they visit her on her birthday?"

"You have a point but it's hard to tell how their minds work, really. I wouldn't rule it out so easily," Hestia stated. "Still it could've been a friend. Maybe Sirius Black. He has black hair and Lily was his and his wife's friend."

Dudley shook his head. "I met Sirius Black and that wasn't him. I'd have recognized him. It wasn't Harry either. I'm sure of it."

"Or it could've been him in disguise," the witch stated. "We have very good disguises in the Wizarding World. It makes sense he would have visited his mother's grave on her birthday. It makes sense he would have been sad about it. And it certainly would make sense he'd disguise himself since he's on the run."

"I suppose… but he was looking at Quinn really oddly."

"Oddly?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "Not sure how to describe it. Disbelief – like he couldn't believe she was there."

"Harry doesn't know where you are – he would've been surprised to find Quinn here," Hestia offered.

Dudley didn't look convinced. "Maybe. What do I know about this, anyway?" he mumbled. He wasn't a police inspector or anything… yet.

Hestia didn't have the chance to reply, though, as all of a sudden they heard Dedalus bursting through the house, calling his fellow Order member's name. "Hestia!"

The woman stood at once. "In the kitchen," she called back shortly before he entered the kitchen. "What's wrong? Didn't you get my Patronus? The girl is f…"

"I know she is. It's not that," the man declared.

"What is the meaning of all this noise?" Vernon asked, bursting into the room.

"You need to move. Now," Dedalus told him.

The larger man turned purple with anger. "This matter again? I've already told you we're done. We're not going anywhere! We're just fine here!"

"No. Trust me – you're not," he stated before turning to Hestia. "I dropped by Bathilda Bagshot's house to check if Quinn was there – she likes children so I thought she might have seen her walking around and invited her for tea. She wouldn't answer the door but it was unlocked – I couldn't find her anywhere, so I checked the basement…"

"No…" Hestia mumbled, getting the picture. "She'd dead?"

"Murdered," he specified. "It looked like it happened a while ago. I called Kingsley and he's over there right now. He says it looks like the job of a snake… a big one."

"You-know-who's, you think? The one that attacked Arthur?" asked Hestia, receiving a nod in return. "Merlin, the poor woman was a bit batty with age but she was harmless. Why would anyone kill her?"

"Do they even need a reason these days?" Dedalus inquired before turning to Vernon. "It's not safe here. You need to leave as soon as possible. Right now."

Vernon snorted. "What is it to us that a woman we didn't even know just happened to be murdered in this town? Why should I even believe you're saying the truth and this isn't just some big excuse to get us out of here? We're not going anywhere!"

"You are more than welcome to go and check the truthfulness of the story over at the woman's house," Dedalus offered, out of patience.

"Planted, no doubt. You people can do that sort of rubbish, can't you?"

"Dad, if they wanted to have us moved by force, there are far easier ways to do it that faking a murder," Dudley pointed out to his father. "Didn't you hear them? That evil bloke's snake was here and killed some old lady less than a mile away from us! Wherever they're taking us must be safer than here!"

"I will not have my life controlled by a bunch stick-yielding freaks!" Vernon shouted at his son.

"Vernon, at least listen. They're trying to help," Petunia intervened.

"Nobody asked for your opinion!" he shouted at her.

Dudley didn't stay to hear more. Instead, he simply walked out of the room and climbed up the stairs as his father kept on yelling at everyone within earshot. He found Quinn sitting on the last step before the first floor, clearly trying to eavesdrop.

"An old lady died?" she asked sadly.

Dudley shook his head. "Don't think about that. Listen, do you know that trunk in your wardrobe?" Quinn nodded. "Can you fetch it and throw your clothes and toys into it? No need to do it neatly – just throw it in there and we'll fix it later."

"Are we leaving?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are Mum and Dad coming?"

"I don't know," he told her. "Do you want to stay with them if they don't?"

Quinn shrugged. "I want to stay with you."

"Then go pack," he urged her.

And so she did. They met outside their rooms ten minutes later, having packed on record time as the row still went on downstairs. Dudley carried both suitcases down the stairs, settling them on the hall before he headed back into the kitchen. His father was purpler than ever – the veins on his neck and forehead looked like they might just burst at any second.

"We're ready to go," the boy announced from the doorway.

And, all of a sudden, everyone yelling went quiet at the same time they turned to him.

"Go where?" Vernon yelled.

"Away. Wherever they think it's safe," Dudley told him, nodding at Hestia and Dedalus. "Quinn and I aren't staying here just waiting for someone to come one day and kill us like they killed that lady. If you want to stay, Dad, good luck. If you want to go, Mum, we'll wait for you to pack."

Petunia looked between him and Vernon with buggy eyes. "Vernon, please…" she begged.

"Be quiet, Petunia – don't you see the boy is bluffing?" Vernon shouted. "You can be assured it's not going to work, Dudley," he told his son.

"Then you can see us bluffing all the way out of the door, I guess," Dudley replied. He didn't care about enraging his father anymore – he was leaving and so was his sister. If his mother wanted to stay, that was her problem. "Mum?" he asked her one more time.

"I… I…" she stuttered. "Vernon, for the love of God, give in. It's just one more move!"

"He is bluffing!" the man insisted.

"Okay," Dudley mumbled, turning to Dedalus. "Can we go now?"

"I… I suppose," the man stuttered, looking at him very much surprised. "Are you sure you…?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Quinn! Come say goodbye."

The little girl walked from behind him, slipping into the room. She didn't go farther than a couple of feet past the door. There should have been hugs and kisses and tears but there were none. She was scared, of course – of leaving it all behind. Somehow she knew things would change forever from then on. But she had Dudley with her – she trusted he'd take care of her. "Bye, Mum," she said from where she stood.

Petunia didn't respond – she just stared at her children. They were leaving – they were really leaving. She watched as Quinn took her brother's hand and walk away, she heard suitcases being dragged on the hall and the front door clicking open. Vernon was wrong – Dudley wasn't bluffing.

"Wait!" she shouted. "Wait!"

Footsteps stopped and Hestia returned to the room. "Changed your mind?" she asked.

Petunia didn't respond, instead turning to her husband. "He's not kidding."

"I won't believe it until he's gone. He doesn't have the guts," Vernon stated.

"It will be too late then," she said.

"Then so be it!" he shouted.

The woman sighed and removed the apron she was wearing. "I hope you don't die over this, Vernon," she said, handing the apron over to him.

Quinn stood outside of them room, watching confused as her mother climbed up the stairs, begging for them to wait a few minutes so she could pack. "Mum's coming?" she asked her brother.

"Apparently," he replied.

"And Dad isn't."

"Apparently not," he stated with a sigh. "We're going to be fine, Quinnie. With or without him," he promised.

She smiled a little as she looked up. "I know," she told him.

Their mother came down a second later, carrying a packed suitcase as well. She took one last moment to urge their father to come but he refused again – he just told her that if they did leave, they'd come back crawling soon enough. Dudley told him not to hold his breath.

And even though she saw her father glaring at them – her, especially – all the way out as her mother picked her up and carried her out, not that she really needed it, Quinn got the feeling things might just change for the better then.

A/N2: Hope you enjoyed - I'm working on finishing next chapter (pretty eventful, let me tell you) so I can post it sometime this week. Feedback is welcome! Review!