Spinner's End, Cokeworth, June 23rd, 1991

They were back at Spinner's End when they finally noticed something was off. After getting rejected by Harry again, Piers left with his mother. Harry didn't know why the boy tormented him so much.

But he didn't leave before giving Harry a present. Not a physical one, of course, but a straight smile with mischief cruising on his face.

The little snitch.

Piers informed his guardians that Harry hid something under his shirt, and the farce he had put up was now under Petunia and Severus' suspicion. Then Piers dared to ask for another hug. What was wrong with this boy? Harry liked his hugs too, thank you very much, but this took it too far.

"You stole a penguin?!"

Severus made the same face when Harry asked the man to open the cabinet that houses all the sharp objects Harry had pocketed or purchased without adult supervision.

He dragged out the small penguin from the inside of his shirt. It was grey with a slick black mane. And the most adorable beady brown eyes, which reminded him of goblins.

"Oh my God," Petunia said, exasperation infecting her voice.

He had indeed taken Alfred. But he was practically asking to be liberated from that horrible zoo. When Harry met the diminutive gentleman, he was far away from his companions. Harry would have cried if this cute, chubby little penguin were to turn his head toward Harry. And he did when Harry walked over to it and coerced eye contact with blood magic.

On the ride home, Piers kept peering at him to the level where he could see Alfred through Harry's collar. Piers whispered to him he would keep it confidential if Harry held his hand for the rest of the ride.

Harry only agreed because there were three minutes left of said ride. But then they got into a traffic jam, and thirty minutes later, they were now meeting face to face this plight.

Petunia started kneading her temple.

"You're not keeping the creature. We are returning it to the zoo. Let's go now! Chop chop." Severus said, ushering Harry towards the main door.

Dudley watched, disturbed from the couch with a piece of Harry's leftover chocolate frog in his mouth.

"No! Alfred is nice! Look at him. He's so cute!" he lifted the penguin upside down, licking Harry's wrists.

"Boy," Severus started. Harry began crying as he stood before him with an expectant gaze. Harry pulled the upside-down penguin to his chest and swivelled his body away from Severus.

"No! You... don't let me have my knives," Harry says in between sobs. Severus stilled.

"But it's fine. I don't need those stupid things, anyway. But let me keep Alfred! It's the least you can do for me after I helped you regain a place in society as an average, somewhat passingly handsome man." Harry said through tears and whimpers. His eyes must have looked so razed that they stunned the man. Severus was now pale-faced, standing in the middle of his living room.

"Harry... you can't... keep it..." Severus said. He strained to get the words out as Harry's demeanour grew softer and showed the perfect picture of cherubic bliss as tears fled from his eyes down his face.

"Boy, stop what you're doing right this instant!" Aunt Petunia said, frantic in her movements.

"What?" Harry's brows scrunched together. He was confused, but a timely glance at the window told him everything he needed to know.

Red—It symbolizes the potency of the Call. Not all blood magic users can use the miserable talent to their command—the burning hellfire shade of blood sorcery on one's eyes was a life sentence in Azkaban, regardless. Red eyes marked a person with the ability not to be forfeited in the storm of blood and misplace themselves in the Fray, as the Dark Lord did before his end. It was a realm beyond the one they lived in, guarding a very potent secret. Elusive to all users of forbidden magic.

He promptly killed his unintended spell.

Severus fell to the floor with a grunt. The atmosphere had darkened considerably.

"How did you cast that?!" Petunia ran over to Severus and helped the man find his footing.

Upon a quick assessment, he discovered that his hand was bleeding. The same hand Alfred was licking to the point of numb tearing of the skin and unrestricted seeping of tongue-inflicted wounds.

"Morgana's arse, why is there another one?!"

The act of dominating the will of another is to risk forfeiting all senses of humanity.

"Are you okay?! I'm so sorry!" Alfred clambered onto his shoulders as Harry wrapped himself around Severus's abdomen.

Previously, he was faking tears pretty effortlessly, but now the real ones were coming out far more handily than if he were to pretend.

Severus crouched down in front of Harry and hugged him, letting the boy's hand wrap around his neck.

"Child, I'm fine. It's you I worry about..." Severus glumly said into his hair.

Harry glumly looked down at his penguin. "Alfred, do you think you could convince Severus to let me keep you?"

The penguin stared at him before licking at Harry's wounds again.

Harry patted him on the head and looked back up at Severus. "Alfred says he wants to stay, don't you, Alfred?" And at that moment, Severus couldn't say no.

"Fine. You may keep the penguin for now."

Aunt Petunia had left the room entirely, and Dudley had consumed one of his chocolate frogs.

"But don't think we won't be discussing this..."


The strange debates about what happens to who continued for the next few weeks. Harry saw Alfred wasn't as antisocial as he initially thought. The penguin already had made friends with half of the neighbourhood and would let Piers hold him whenever the ratty boy would come to visit. He doesn't recall how many times Severus had to obliviate the boy, but the number has probably reached the hundreds.

They had spelled Alfred into behaving like a house cat; the poor thing was now correctly adjusting to the climate of Cokeworth as a pseudo-magical creature.

It was now July 24th. The sun was high in the sky, and birds were not chirping as much as Harry thought. He remembered the day he had finally broken the tension that always existed between him and Petunia: It was his sixth birthday. After another year of neglect, Petunia stopped him from cleaning the floor tiles that day. She said that she'd seen enough.

Even if she denied it then, she still cared about Harry. He is her only nephew, after all. From that day, Harry learned to live with her. She was not kind to him, but he knew he could keep his opinion and be honest with her and sometimes get away from chores. He got away from tending some of her plants. But never her prized dahlias. Petunia only trusted him to take care of them.

Harry doesn't know when the reminiscing fades and ceases as Severus sits next to him on his spot near the window, closing his eyes in the pretense of finding sleep elsewhere. The trill of slumber envelopes him, and the sky grows brighter. Severus finds himself here more and more, Harry notices, looking past a sleeping Severus. In those moments, Severus looks more peaceful than ever.

Harry closed his eyes, anticipating the day. Something told him that today would be just that much special. Pushing himself up with determination, Harry arose and realized that in silence, when he had found it, he didn't want to disturb. He crept back to bed after covering the sleeping man with his blanket.


Spinner's End, Cokeworth, July 24th, 1991

Petunia would get a little sad every time she looked out the window. Unlike Privet Drive, there were no trees surrounding Severus' house. On the complete opposite side of Hexagon Alley with its lively streets, lakes, and parks was the very deserted and very muggle Spinner's End, with avenues banded with abandoned brick houses and broken streetlamps, near a polluted river and a jilted mill with a lofty chimney.

With no trees came little to no birds. Petunia missed that little grey one, abandoned by its mother. So imagine her surprise when an old brown owl shuffled its feathers on the closed window sill. Severus was at Hogwarts. He left earlier in the dawn with something of a smile tugging at his lips, so it wasn't for him. And it definitely wasn't for Petunia or Dudley, leaving only one intended recipient for the owls' letter.

Petunia smiled slightly. She was not afraid to admit that she felt jealous. But the envy subsided as she received the letter from the owl.

'Mr. H. Potter, Harry and Dudley's bedroom, 8 Spinner's End, Cokeworth.'

She left the owl in the kitchen with a plate of bacon strips and a promise to be back with another letter.

The walk up the stairs was easier than she remembered, and Petunia was much more active and athletic to make up for her weak squib magic and the consuming factor of Blood magic. From her eagerness to learn more about the art, she had to create an amplifier for her nearly non-existent magical core, which came as consuming her own warm blood after a long run.

Dudley and Harry were fast asleep. Her son was sleeping on his stomach in his bed, feet dangling off the side. Harry was sleeping under his blue sheets, his fat penguin making soft penguin noises as it licked Harry's forehead.

Lovely, she thought with mild irritation.

She pulled the penguin off the boy and placed it on the floor. She tapped him on the head to wake him up.

"Harry, get up. Your letter came," she said as Harry cracked open his eyes and, after a good while, completely opened his emerald orbs, which made her smile, and was wiped with a polite ahem.

"Morning," she said with a pleasant smile. He yawned and stretched his arms and legs. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"It was okay... I guess..."

Harry averted his eyes. He did that whenever he lied.

"Harry..." Petunia helped the boy sit up with Dudley's loud snores, providing a calm ambiance. "Did you stay up again?"

She didn't need an answer as the boy turned his green pearls at her in anticipation.

"You said something about a letter?" Harry asked in his soft voice. Which Petunia found adorable and not that she would ever admit.

She handed him the letter and explained the eager owl downstairs, waiting for his reply. Harry took the note with his tiny hand and smiled before dipping his head toward the envelope.

"Thanks," he said with a mumble. "I am going to write back to this McGonagall person now."

He pulled out a pen from his bedside cabinet, writing for a short time, and handed the letter back to her with a small smile and loose hair flowing just above his cheek.

"You seem unsure of yourself. Even reading and writing spells in subjects such as Transfiguration are already boring to you, are they?" she said to him and took him in hand before returning him to his bed.

She sighed as the boy started drifting back to sleep. They hadn't allowed the boy to read up on anything above Third Year level course work from Hogwarts, which the boy took too easily. She had expected more enthusiasm from the boy, but seeing as he was half asleep, anyway, she pressed a kiss against his soft black hair and went back down to give the owl Harry's scrolled-up letter and five Knuts.

Severus left Petunia with bits of magical currency now and then to treat Harry and Dudley to something in Hexagon Alley if they wanted.

The spikey owl took it in its mouth and flew off with a hoot. Maybe Petunia will get to feed it again someday. She let a snort out as the bird flew off into the distance. Whatever happens, Petunia will cope with it.

She looked around the house, seeing as there was no one else present to eat with, and made herself a cup of coffee.


Severus had returned that Wednesday with a stern-looking woman with a severe bun hauling back her greying hair. They had received the letter Harry had written and came to take Harry to Diagon Alley. Under Dumbledore's orders, Petunia assumed.

Petunia wished she had spent more time with Harry before he left for the rest of the year and had asked the boy if he wanted her to give up some of her training time. Still, the boy told her he would be okay, and that Petunia didn't have to sacrifice her time to be with him; she owed him nothing, he said. But she did. She owed that boy the world.

To teach Harry had become her life's ambition. That was why Vernon hated him so, for want of a better word; the incredible amount of patience and time she had spent with the boy made Vernon so irritable and hostile to the boy.

McGonagall, the woman—Professor, had it out for Petunia. A look of disappointment met her gaze after the old witch had looked at Harry's minor form for the first time. Harry was healthier than before, but he couldn't let go of his previous malnutritional diet of scraps and the occasional can of cold soup.

Now he eats three meals daily, not as much as Dudley, but more than when he first started at six. Petunia remembers the look of joy on the boy's face as he was handed a plate with everything Dudley ate that day. He puked the rest of the night from trying to finish everything the same way Dudley did. Petunia cut the portion down by more than half of what she had given her son.

Harry chatted with McGonagall on their sofa or couch, as Harry called it, over tea. Severus had left and returned to Hogwarts, and Dudley was getting ready for his first year at Smeltings. But not before coming along with them to see Diagon Alley. Dudley had already been to Hexagon Alley with Severus and started getting haircuts at the same place. Wanda, the barber with her sharp scissors, barely used them. She instead opted to use her wand to cut hair. The woman only shrugged and said "protocol" when asked.

Harry had not mentioned how he was feeling to Petunia since that day when he wrote his letter. She would pick up on a bit of omission here or there when they drew blood into their runic circles.

Petunia also noticed if Harry's penguin was around, he would whisper at Alfred using baby-talk when he thought Petunia wasn't paying attention, so he hadn't revealed that one to Petunia either. He would write to her about it when school started, though; the boy kept things to himself until he was far away from conflict or disapproval.

McGonagall and Harry had stood up and shook her hands with a genial nod of her head before he led them to the door. They all stepped out and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Petunia and Dudley's screaming contrasted with Harry's laughs as they were dragged into nothingness. Petunia could see Alfred dangling for his life under Harry's collar in the swirl of darkness.

They could have taken the floo, but Harry disagreed. He preferred the tense thrill of feeling dragged through a tight swirl of air. It was the closest he would ever be to being torn in two. When at last, their feet were back on solid ground, Harry launched himself across the pavement in a glorious leap most Olympians would be impressed by. It vaguely reminded her of how a bunny hops.

"You always make it look so easy," Dudley said from his place on the floor. Harry nodded to imply he disagreed with him.

"I think if you practiced with Severus more, you'd get better at it one day, Duds."

The two boys continued to collide and exchange words of wisdom until they entered the pub. Finally succumbing to his curiosity, Harry walked around a bit, talking to random strangers who gave him looks of pure affection. Harry is a very handsome boy. More so than any of his peers, many a time have muggle recruiters tried signing Harry up to be a child model or actor, but Harry denied them and gave them something like "it sounds kind of boring" as an answer every time.

The man behind the bar greeted McGonagall with some reverence as they pulled up to it. "Professor, what can I get for you? Do you require a room?"

"Not today, Tom. I am on duty..." The woman waved at the group behind her. The man did not make more conversation than nodding his head and gesturing at the two boys.

"So, who are the lucky firsties?" Tom asked. Dudley backed up with his hands in the air to say, 'don't include me in this.'

After Petunia gave him a nod, the raven stepped up to the man with a stretched-out arm in greeting, "I'm Harry. it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tom," he said.

"Bless my soul..." Tom said in silent reverence. The people in the pub turned their heads to them. "It can't be..."

"Could it be?! Harry! Potter! You've finally joined the rest of us." A woman said heartily, shuffling down the bar towards them.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last," she said. Harry was then surrounded.

"It is truly an honour, Mr. Potter!" A man laughed as Harry was slowly but surely being passed around the room, shaking their hands and even receiving bows and curtseys until Petunia and McGonagall had enough and pulled the boy back to safety. A man named Dedalus Diggle tried to approach but was warded off by McGonagall's warning glare.

He still cooed when Harry pulled Alfred out of his collar.

"I've seen you before," said Harry, still patting Alfred. The man's top hat fell off in something akin to excitement.

"You bowed to me once in a shop." Creep was left unsaid.

"He remembers!" cried the balding man, looking at the crowd.

"Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands repeatedly—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale man made his way to them, one of his eyes twitching.

"Professor Quirrell," said McGonagall pleasantly. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts," said Professor Quirrell. Petunia thought he'd instead not think about it.

"N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He said nervously. McGonagall was awkwardly dusting off invisible lint on her dark emerald robes.

"Ah, y-you must be his g-g-guardian." The man looked at her. There was something off about the man. Petunia noticed immediately as her eyes landed on his. Lingering traces of red specks floated in his eyes, unnoticeable by most, but it was easy to spot to practitioners of Blood Magic.

"You'll be getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got top-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

Professor Quirrell could not keep Harry to himself as others surrounded them. It took almost half an hour to flee from them all.

"Alright, alright, ENOUGH, Ms. Crockford, desist at once, or I will take fifty points from Huffl—"

McGonagall stopped herself. She looked like she was getting old.

"Why Professor, you can do. No. Such. Thing." She kneeled and pinched Harry's cheeks. "As I have long since graduated." She told Harry as she pulled back up with a cheeky smile and waved goodbye.

"Come along. We have some more left to go before we enter the alley."

They finally made their way out through the bar and into a small, walled courtyard, where there was only a trash can and a few weeds in the vicinity.

McGonagall stepped up to the brick wall and tapped her wand against it like Petunia had seen before when she went with Lily and that Slughorn fellow.

The brick wall rattled, and a gate began forming from the cavities left by missing bricks. Petunia watched the wall shake and rearrange, and she couldn't stop herself from gasping from the sheer display of raw magic.

Dudley was in total awe; Diagon Alley was huge and bustling. It wasn't like Hexagon Alley, with its crooked buildings and small shops by a riverside. Petunia couldn't stop herself from glancing at a man wearing an old-style cloak and a wizard's hat, the way he was peering in through the gate to see for whom the gate was opening.

Petunia found it odd that no one asked to see the scar. When she found out what it was, Petunia removed its physical appearance as well before she even started teaching Harry the miserable art. It was a vital identifier of the boy's status and liability.

She was given her answer when she looked at the boy. A blood glamour rendered his eye colour natural to those who do not practice blood magic. A slight drop of blood leaked from his pinky before he started healing it at Petunia's glance.

The boy had placed something of a Notice-me-not spell on his forehead to not deal with the question entirely. He was a boy of great cunning and deception, but he was also a boy of great adorable cheeks and pouting skills that were sure to garner the envy of angels. Petunia sighed as they walked on through the streets of Diagon.

She had a certain feeling of going home in her veins, one she had never felt before. This was what it was like to go somewhere you were always meant to be. She looked up at the sky, and the clouds were clear and blue, far from the grey clumps that often fell over the London town.

Petunia made a soft sigh. Maybe this will be her chance to see more of the world that she was denied. She'd put so much behind her to decide to practice Blood Magic; she often had dreams where many questions would greet her. What if's that her sub-conscience had formed: If something just happened one day and that oaf Dumbledore would come to her and tell her she had a home here and had changed his mind? If Lily had never died, where would she be now? Probably making time in prison.

Harry… if he was her son.

She could have a new meaning in her life and live in her new family's heart. Petunia would have honoured her sister and been able to one day publish her work for the world to see. To see that her magic was just as good as the ones witches flung around.

To see the world from a new perspective. She looked down at her boys and smiled as she held the man she loves close to her. And that man looks nothing like Vernon.

And she was okay with that.


Author's Note: Just posting for now. It will be edited when I'm done writing out the entire series. I have no beta. :(