A/N: Disclaimer still applies. Employees and their families are prohibited from taking part in this fanfiction.
Harry was having a bad day. Unusually bad, even for a day at the Dursleys.
In the library, confronted with Dudley's sudden vulnerability, Harry had been shocked by the realization that the pudgy, blonde Muggle boy, a month his senior and easily twice his size, was more of a child than he himself was. With all his flaws, Dudley possessed a quality that could only be described as innocence. He wanted Harry to use his magic to fix things. He believed that something greater than himself was capable of making everything okay again. And he felt a childish entitlement to such help.
Harry, on the other hand, had fought for his life annually since the age of eleven, with little enough help from his mentors, people he looked up to and even loved. Up until last year Harry had been able to convince himself that Dumbledore, whom he admired fiercely, simply had a hands-off style of management. He really was in control, behind the scenes, and if Harry fell, the venerable wizard would be there to catch him. He could always make things right.
But then Cedric had died.
If that wasn't a failure on Harry's part, nothing was. He had been *right there*! He should have been able to stop it! Never mind that Cedric was the more experienced wizard, Harry was The Boy Who Lived, over and over again, and if anyone could have been expected to somehow block the Unblockable, the Avada Kedavra, it was he. But he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't think quick enough, didn't move quick enough, didn't study hard enough, didn't have enough Power. So Cedric had faced the darkest of the Unforgiveables, and died with a look of surprise on his face.
And Dumbledore hadn't been there to fix it.
Neither had Sirius, or Remus Lupin, or Hagrid, or Hermione, or Ron…none of the people he depended on had been there to fix it.
Harry was forced to conclude that he was on his own, one way or another. Either no one could help, or no one would.
So when Dudley had looked at him with his small, blue, watery eyes, frightened and hopeful, Harry had wanted to fix it for him, because he didn't want to see that faith shattered the way his had been. At least not yet. Not like this. Give him a few more years to be a child. Watching Dudley look hungrily through the Lo-Fat cookbook, Harry promised himself silently, I couldn't save Cedric. Or didn't, whichever. I liked him. I'm still not sure I entirely like you, Dudley. But I won't let you die. I will not let you die.
And then came Dudley's betrayal. Furious, more hurt than he dared admit to himself, and a little startled by the accidental discharge of magic that had popped the soccer ball, Harry had rushed back to Privet Drive, clutching the library books tightly, as if they were living things he could throttle.
He was greeted by a red-eyed Petunia Dursley, who promptly screamed at him like a harpy. "There you are! How *dare* you leave without telling anyone! Where's Dudley?!"
"Playing sports with Piers," Harry replied coldly, dumping the books on the sofa. "I was only in the way, so I left."
"You left him out in the heat?! He just got back from the hospital this morning!"
"What did you want me to do?" He shouted back, temper flaring, "Carry him home??" He stormed up the stairs without waiting for her to reply.
She was so taken aback it took her a full minute before she screamed up after him, "Don't you turn your back on me when I'm talking to you! You get back down here, you ungrateful little--"
What exactly it was she called him, he never found out, because he slammed and locked the door to his room and buried his head under his pillow until the shouting stopped. When he emerged, white and shaking with rage, a tapping at the window caught his attention. A disgruntled-looking owl was there, one he did not recognize. He let it in with well-warranted trepidation. It bore a letter from the Ministry of Magic. He skimmed it quickly, fairly certain already of the contents.
We have received intelligence…underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school…further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion….Enjoy your holidays!
He was beginning to really dislike Mafalda Hopkirk.
Harry sat down at his desk, eyeing Hedwig's covered cage for a moment, then got out a piece of paper and a quill.
Dear Mr. Weasley,
I am rethinking my decision to stay here. If it's convenient,--
A pounding on his door interrupted him, "Open this door!" Petunia's voice shrilled, "Harry Potter, you open this door right now or I'll take it off the hinges!!"
He considered a moment, then grudgingly got up and undid the lock, opening the door just enough to stick his head out into the hallway. She boxed his ears immediately. "You little thief!!"
"OW! What?!" He scrambled to keep his glasses from falling off his face and onto the floor.
"How many times have I told you to stay out of our refrigerator? We feed you more than enough! We give you the food off our very table!" She swung at him again, but he ducked.
"All right! All right! I took one chicken breast! I made lunch for Dudley and me! Ask him!!"
"Don't lie to me! I offered to make him something to eat; he said he wasn't hungry. Why would he take food from you after you practically poisoned him just last night?!"
"I didn't poison him!"
"I obviously can't trust you with the run of the house," she snapped, grabbing him by the ear, "Next thing you know you'll be stealing out of my purse and…and buying drugs, claiming they're for Dudley, too!"
"Ouch! It *was* for Dudley! How else do you think I got him out of his room??"
"Not another word! I won't hear anymore of your lies!" She dragged him downstairs and yanked open the cupboard door.
Oh no.
He grabbed futilely at the doorframe as she pushed him in, and the door slammed on his fingers. He yelped in pain and jerked his hand back, shoving the wounded knuckles into his mouth. Outside, Petunia locked the deadbolt, then yelled through the keyhole, "And you can just stay in there until you admit you're a thief and a liar, and God help you when Vernon gets home from the pharmacy!"
More humiliated than hurt, Harry sat on the cupboard floor, nursing his wounds in silence and speculating as to what exactly would happen when Vernon got home.
What happened, in fact, was a great deal of shouting and pounding on the cupboard door. Harry waited it out patiently, having decided argument was useless, but that Arthur Weasley was likely to come looking for him if he didn't hear from him for a couple days, so as long as they let him out to use the toilet, the situation would be uncomfortable, but fleeting and therefore bearable. He replied, "Yes, Uncle Vernon," and "Sorry, Uncle Vernon," at appropriate intervals, losing the thread of the rant until a change of topic brought him up short.
"And another thing, boy! Where do you get off inviting your freaky friends into my house? If I ever come home again to find some tatty red-haired git floating a tea-tray, I'll--"
"Mr. Weasley is a good wizard, Uncle Vernon," Harry said coldly, clenching his fists.
"Don't you interrupt me! I don't give a flying fig who you associate with outside this house, but I don't want to hear about it, and you will not bring them home and corrupt my son! In fact…tomorrow I'm taking that bloody owl to an animal shelter. Maybe that'll keep you from sending out invitations."
Hedwig! "Don't you touch her!" Harry snapped, chagrined by the sudden crack in his voice, but standing up recklessly to rattle the doorknob. "Do you hear me?? She's my owl!"
"I don't care if it's your girlfriend! Out it goes! I'll sell it to the zoo for tiger food if I feel like it! You just be grateful I'm taking it to a shelter instead!"
"She was a present!" Harry shouted desperately, "She's not yours to give away! If you lay a finger on her I swear I'll--"
The vent snapped open, and Vernon's eyes peered in at him, "Are you threatening me, boy? What are you going to do, curse me from in there? And get expelled from that precious school of yours? Go ahead, then."
Harry fell silent, shaking with anger, but struggling to keep a hold on his power.
"I thought so. You hold your tongue and be grateful you're not getting what you deserve." The vent snapped shut, and Mr. Dursley's heavy tread moved away from the cupboard.
Harry sat down again, put his head in his hands, and began, silently, to cry.
"Go on, Mum, you *know* he didn't deserve it. You can't punish him for trying to be nice. I mean it isn't fair, but it's also stupid, because why should he ever be nice again if you're going to lock him up for it?"
"I have never apologized to that boy in my life, and I don't see why I should do it now." Petunia sniffed, putting a plate and cup on a tray.
"Because I want you to. It'll make it easier for me, Mum, please?" Dudley gave her a doe-eyed look.
Predictably, she melted, mussing his hair gently and mumbling, "My Duddykins…such a good boy."
He winced. "Um…could you maybe not call me that?"
"What? Why not, popkin?"
"I'm sixteen now, Mum. You don't call dad Verniepoo."
She blinked, "Oh, Duddy…Mummy knows you're growing up, but you'll always be my little boy…"
He opened his mouth to argue, then decided discretion was the better part of valor. "Um…am I doing this right? Is the water supposed to foam like this?"
She peered over his shoulder at the pot of beans he was boiling. "That's lovely, darling. I'm so proud of my little chef!" She kissed him on the cheek.
He closed his eyes so she wouldn't see him roll them. When he had shown her the library books, he had been surprised at how quickly she warmed up to the idea of him cooking. She had volunteered to teach him with dinner that evening, apparently using the excuse to make it a mother-son bonding project. She insisted on doing most of the work, letting him mind the stove (protected with an oven mitt on either hand), and make the salad, but she chattered about what she was doing as she chopped vegetables and pieced the entrée together, and some of what she told him about measurements and temperatures made sense. He wasn't sure if he'd remember later, but it was a start. And she seemed happy. Awfully happy. He hadn't apologized to her for snapping at her earlier, but she had forgiven him already. She was like that, at least with him.
One thing he could always count on was Mum being on his side.
His father had looked in on them quizzically, but the salmon Florentine they were making smelled quite good, so he was willing to overlook the oddness of the scene. Dudley hadn't looked up, not quite ready to make up with him yet, but he had come in and pulled a pill bottle out of the bag from the pharmacy. "All right, Dudley?"
He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah…"
"Good. Here's your pills. Glucophage, it's called. They want you to take one before every meal."
Dudley accepted the bottle, eyeing it, then nodded, "Okay."
"The pharmacy gave me some papers about it. You'll want to look them over."
Dudley nodded.
"Mum and I can read them with you later, how's that?" Vernon spoke in a slightly too-hearty rush.
"Um…yeah. All right, then." Dudley answered, then tried a wary smile.
His father mussed his hair, immensely relieved, and left the room.
Dudley set the pill bottle down and returned to stirring the boiling beans. It was nice, in a way, to have his parents back him up like this. But something about it made him uncomfortable, too. They were his parents, and he loved them, of course. And needed them. That was what made him feel funny about it. And the idea of sitting on the couch between his Mum and Dad while they went over information from the doctor and pharmacy, his mother petting and cooing and his father cracking stupid jokes made him feel even funnier.
He'd rather sit in his room and read the papers over himself. Or with Harry.
But of course, Harry would never forgive him. He had to keep reminding himself of that, just in case it were true.
Before he would let his mother set the table for dinner, Dudley made her put part of the food on a tray. Salmon Florentine, boiled string beans, salad, and sugar-free gelatin. It was for Harry, who rarely got the same thing the rest of the family was eating. Petunia didn't seem to like it, but was willing to do it for her Dinky Duddydums.
Dudley led his mother toward the cupboard, carrying the tray himself. He waited while she opened the door. Harry was sitting on the floor inside, his knees folded up to his chest, his forehead resting on them. He looked up, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, then realized who was looking in at him and rubbed his face abruptly, smearing dust over his cheekbone. It wasn't quick enough, however, for Dudley to miss the tear track on one cheek.
Dudley winced. Instant guilt; just add water. "Um…all right, Harry?"
"Fine, yeah," he stood, "Warden?" He raised an eyebrow at his aunt, who scowled at him.
"I'll thank you not to use that tone of voice with me!"
"Mum," Dudley interrupted, staring at her hard.
She folded her arms. "Duddy said I owe you an apology."
Harry blinked. "Did he, now?"
"Yes," Dudley nodded, "And…um…me, too. I shouldn't have said all that stuff. It's just…Piers and…well, nevermind. I'm sorry, anyway."
"And I suppose I should have checked my facts with Dudley before punishing you." Petunia said grudgingly.
Harry looked from one to the other in confusion. "Ah."
"Um…we brought you dinner, too." Dudley put in.
Harry eyed the tray, "Am I eating in here?"
"No, no, you can come out. Get out of there, go on," Petunia hustled him out impatiently and closed the cupboard door behind him. "You can go back to your room to eat."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and there was a tang of bitterness in his voice when he said, "I see…"
"I'll have a talk with Vernon, too," Petunia sighed, "He won't take your owl, he was just talking. You know how he gets when he's angry."
Harry took a deep breath, straightening. There was a too-old look in his eyes, but he just gave Petunia a stiff nod. "Thank you, I appreciate that."
She looked pleasantly surprised, then suspicious. "Well, you're welcome, then."
Dudley frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. After the apology, it was all supposed to be okay again, wasn't it? Harry was supposed to forgive him and go back to being nice, like in the library when they were joking around, not stand there like a soldier at attention, with a mistrustful look on his face. His cousin's expression reminded Dudley of once when he and Piers were little and they had cornered a stray dog in an alley (they weren't going to hurt it, mind you, just catch it and let it loose again inside the school building). The scraggly animal hadn't growled or snapped, just stood, stiff-legged with it's head down and it's tail between its legs, watching them with bright eyes, waiting for enough of a gap between them for it to leap through and make a run for it. Dudley shifted to the side a little, half-curious to see if Harry would bolt for the front door. When the other boy didn't move, he asked, "What's wrong, Harry?"
The look of scorn he received in response could only have been given by a teenager. "Why, nothing at all, Dudley," the sarcasm stung, "I'm just fine."
Petunia was outraged. "You've had your apology," she said a little shrilly, "if you think we're going to grovel you've another thing coming."
Dudley bit his lip, hurt and confused, but unsure what to say.
Harry sighed, "Look…I appreciate the peace offering. I really do. It's not that. It's just…I made a mistake, okay? That's all. I felt bad for Dudley and I was trying to help. Like I'm part of this family. I'm not. Not really. We all know that." He looked at Petunia. She moved away a little, taken aback. "So, you know, you should help him, because he needs it, and all that. But it was stupid of me to try. I don't belong here. I never have, and it's just gotten more obvious over every summer since I started Hogwarts."
Petunia flinched at the name of Harry's school.
"No, no, listen. It's okay. In two years I'll graduate, and as far as they're concerned, I'll be of age, and you'll never have to see me again. Right? You were looking forward to kicking me out of the house anyway. So…why are we doing this? What's the point in fighting any more? You hate me, I'm not fond of you, it's been that way forever, why try and fix it now? Why don't we all just call a truce? Or a cease-fire, at least. You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. I can even pay you rent if that's what it takes, I'm old enough for a summer job, or will be soon enough. You can pretend I'm just a boarder, and that'll be the end of it, until I go away."
Petunia stared at him, beginning to nod slowly as he reached the end of his speech. "I…could ask Vernon what he thinks of that…"
Harry smiled slightly, but again the look didn't reach his eyes. "Good, then. No more locking me in the cupboard or boxing my ears. And I'll pay you for room and board and keep out of your way. Fair enough."
"No it isn't!" Dudley burst out passionately, setting the tray aside. "It's not true! You *are* family! You're my cousin!"
The smaller boy turned sad green eyes on him. "I'm a wizard, Dudley. I don't belong here."
"So? You're still my cousin! Mum, tell him!"
But Petunia shook her head quietly. "He's right, popkin. Even if you were close…he'll go off into that magical world of his and you'll never see him again."
Harry looked at her, suddenly wondering what she and his mother had been like as children together.
She shrugged, "We're just people. Muggles, or whatever you like to call us. Maybe not so special, or talented, or wise, but we're good, stolid, ordinary people. And we can't compete with flying broomsticks and dragons and magic jewels and quests. I mean, my God, it's the stuff of fairytales, every day. Don't look at me like I've gone mad. I know. I remember the way Lil talked when she was at home on holiday. And I used to read fairy stories, until I found out they were true. Then I stopped liking them."
"We're normal people, Dudley. What we do is we go to work, and we come home, and sweep up the house, and cook dinner and maybe read a book or watch the telly. We worry about wars and politics and getting sick and having enough money to pay the bills. Ordinary people. And what's wrong with that? Just because *I've* never seen a real unicorn…" Her eyes softened, wistful. "And *she* used to go into the woods to pet them…who has the right to say I'm not as good as she was?"
Harry got a sudden vivid mental picture of a small, red-haired girl caressing the muzzle of a silken-maned unicorn stallion. With it came a sense of intense longing and envy. Whether it was Petunia's words themselves, or an image that leaked from her mind, he could not tell. But in that moment he thought he understood his aunt, just a little bit.
"For what it's worth, I don't think I'm better," he told her, "just different."
She nodded briskly, snapping out of her reverie. "I'll talk to Vernon about arranging some sort of rent schedule. No more than you can afford with a summer job. We'll work something out." She turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Dudley watched her go, then looked to Harry, "Are there really real unicorns?"
"Yes," he said. "They like girls."
"Wish I could see one."
"Me too." He smiled suddenly, "Wouldn't Uncle Vernon have hit the roof if you'd been a wizard, too."
Dudley grinned, nodding. That was how it was supposed to work, with Harry making jokes again.
But his cousin's smile faded quickly. "I'm sorry, Dudley. I can't help anymore. I wish we could have been friends--family--but it's just too late. You'll be okay. Really you will."
Dudley's heart sank. "I don't understand."
"I just can't." Harry explained quietly, then headed up the stairs.
"Wait! Harry? Mum and I made dinner. Don't you want some?" Dudley held out the tray. "I helped. You were right. I liked cooking."
The smaller boy avoided his eyes, running his hand over the banister a moment. "Thanks, Dudley. But I'm not hungry." He turned and ran up the stairs.
The door to his room closed quietly, and the lock clicked shut.
Dudley picked up the tray and shuffled forlornly toward the kitchen. He knew Harry would never forgive him.
Dear Mr. Weasley
I am rethinking my decision to stay here. I have some affairs to get in order, which should take a week or so. After that, if the invitation is still open, I'd love to come stay with Ron. In the meantime, could you ask Ron to please take care of Hedwig? My uncle threatened to take her to an animal shelter, and while my aunt says he won't do this, I don't trust him. Thanks.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
PS: Do you know anywhere I can change a few sickles for Muggle money? I may owe some to my aunt and uncle.
Harry
A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! Um…and sorry for the depressing ending. But don't worry! It's not over yet!
Erin Malfoy: You must have changed your nick somewhere along the line…I was looking for 'Jamie Anderson' in my review list so I could reply, and couldn't find the nick. I was like 'Hey, did her review get deleted somehow?' So…that was a pointless story, but I'm glad you didn't get deleted. Um…Dudley and Voldemort? Iiiiinteresting…
Rabbit and –v-Jinx-v: Thank you! I tried focusing more on Petunia and Vernon interacting with Dudley this chapter. The contrast from the way they act with Harry turned out rather intense, particularly Petunia. I hope it still seems realistic. (I still like your Petunia better, though. ^_~)
Quoth the Raven: I'm glad you can understand Dudley's point of view in the confrontation with Piers et. al. The sad thing is, I can see myself reacting with a similar lack of guts at that age (the Sorting Hat would not have put me in Gryffindor). Only I'd have been more likely to slink off than buddy up to Piers afterwards. The more I think about it, the more I like chef Dudley, actually. He might even come to terms with his diabetes and come up with good recipes for diabetics. As far as Harry's magic is concerned…well, we haven't seen the end of Mafalda Hopkirk yet.
Ravenclawer: I don't think Dudley's half as bad a kid as he's made out to be. But he is just a kid, and he makes all kinds of mistakes. Actually, I'm really delighted most reviewers seem to be willing to forgive his betrayal of last chapter. It shows that readers are willing to go along with me in trying to present him as a sympathetic character.
Shadowycat: Oh, no, I'm not giving up! I've come too far with this to leave it unfinished, although I am having a bit of trouble figuring out what to do after the next chapter. Thank you for sympathizing with Dudley's position. And don't be too discouraged by Harry's semi-rejection of Dudley's apology this chapter. Harry really doesn't have any more of an idea what it's like to be Dudley than Dudley does of what it's like to be Harry. Dudley's about to get a crash-course of sorts, after which it will be up to him to reach out to his cousin and try to make friends again.
Ozma: (I'm loving the livejournal conversations, btw ^_^) I'm glad you like the way I'm playing the characters. Remember that little conversation between Harry and Dudley in the library…it's about to come into play again. I've got strange dramatic plot point ideas brewing in my twisted little mind. ;-)
Stormyfire: Well, he hasn't gotten scolded too badly *this* time, but he is walking on very thin ice as far as the ministry's concerned. And I'm sure Fudge would love for him to trip up… Thanks for the compliment on my version of Dudley. I'm surprised he's developed as well as he has, actually, and I'm a little afraid to take too much credit lest I offend whatever anonymous muse has been whispering in my ear.
MoonKitten, Koneko-chan: Hmm…well, if you're waiting for Vernon and Petunia to warm up to poor Harry, I'm afraid you may be waiting a while. ^_^;;; I think where Dudley goes, they'll eventually follow, but it won't be easy on anyone, least of all Harry.
Crystalclear8050: But will Dudley's viewpoint change more if he sees Harry with his friends, or if he sees Harry with his enemies? *slightly evil grin* Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything too horrible to Harry--well, yes I am, but not involving physical violence. I'm still keeping the idea of a Weasley visit in mind. And gnome-tossing.
Katriana: *ducks* I'm slow! Sorry! Glad you're still reading. ;-D
Windflower: Aha. I thought someone might mention that possibility sooner or later. I have to admit, I do like the idea of latent magic ability in Dudley. But I've seen it done before, and I strive above all to be original. So no magic for Dudley, in this story. Although if he does become a chef, maybe he can help Harry brew potions. ;-)
Summersun: Well, a month's not bad, considering my past update history. I hope to have the next chapter (what will it be now, eight, I think?) rather soon, though, because I know where I want to go with it.
Aeryn Alexander: I get Diabetes Forecast, so I at least have the ability to be up to date on diabetes information. But I don't read the articles as closely as I should. The last one I remember oohing at was something about scientists inventing contact lenses that could measure your blood glucose level through your tears and change color accordingly. So you could just look in a mirror and know if you were having a low. I thought that was pretty cool. And that's my digression for the day. Glad you liked the last chapter. ;-)
Npetrenko: Thank you. I will. Lots more, in fact, I believe.
Queen Li: *nods* It's amazing how you can find like-minded people on the net. I think that's the real genius of it, putting you in touch with all kinds of people you might never have met otherwise. I love the free exchange of viewpoints.
Smitha-r: Oh, yes, Dudley's about to find out that Harry's the reluctant messiah of the wizarding world. His reaction should be interesting to write. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. ^_^
Andromeda Snape: Hey, why are you wasting your time glaring at me when you could be reading and reviewing my other stories? ;-) And I demand to see your license to use that glare. But I'll take that command as a sign you're enjoying my work, so, thank you. ;-D
Shichan Goddess: Thanks for the compliments! I'm pleased you approve of Dudley's…um…glitch in nobility, shall we call it? ;-)
Essy Lasaylan: You are the wind beneath my wings. No, seriously, I really appreciate the help. Where to begin…My girlfriend wondered about the garbage disposal bit. Actually, a lot of these I should have been able to figure out myself, particularly candy=sweets. Pretzel-less-ness surprises me, though. What about the cheez-crunchie things Harry ate? Is that totally out of left field (wait, that's a baseball expression, isn't it? Damn, I'm screwed both coming and going ;-) )? I was thinking of generic Cheetos, but I know they're American. Crisps would be what we call potato chips, correct? Because what you call chips we call French fries? I have no clue what a Twiglet is, but I like the word. ;-) What else…streets rather than blocks should be an easy correction. Believe it or not, I knew 'soccer ball' wouldn't fly, but the trouble is ideally I'd like to write this so it wouldn't seem foreign to an American reader either, particularly since one of my more devoted readers is the 8-year-old daughter of my girlfriend's coworker (which is also the reason I'm keeping this one as low a PG as possible). I can't think of any way to fix the soccer vs. football thing short of changing sports entirely. Only around my neighborhood the kids would be playing basketball or baseball or American football and probably injuring one another severely in the process, and I could be wrong but I don't know that any of those translate as well as soccer/football, nor can I think of a decent substitute. So I may be doomed there. *giggles* Actually, it's unusual to be seen in less than four hours at an American hospital, too, so at least it's equally weird on either side of the ocean. LOL at the vending machine comment. I had no idea. Oh, well, it *is* a series of fantasy novels after all. But maybe I should have had Harry express surprise? Anyway, thank you very much for the corrections. Please feel free to keep pointing things out. I intend to finish the story, or at least get to a good stopping place, then go back and polish it up. I'll make the changes you've suggested then.
OO WTH: I have, in fact, checked and bookmarked FA.org, and I think I will join sooner or later. I'm focusing a bit on my art right now, but I'll probably switch back to being writing-oriented sooner or later. A Dudley guild? How cool…I'll have to look into that!
Linneria: I seem to be ending chapters on down notes, lately. I'm not sure why. I have to apologize in advance now, too, because I already know the next chapter will end on a depressing note. I'll try to lighten it up a bit after that, if I can.
Freedom Rhodes: Now that's quite a compliment. *^_^* Thank you, I'm glad you find them in-character.
Bockpack: Hey, Percy's a smart kid. I'd be happy to have him review my story, too. ;-) I strive to stay at least roughly within canon when I can, although after Order of the Phoenix comes out, this'll be AU anyway. But that's okay, we like AU, too.