As dusk falls, a nation bound near waxing solstice bears a Dragon and an Heir . . .
Chapter One
A Very Normal Holiday
Harry tumbled through the kitchen fireplace at Potter Estate, flecks of green in his cheeks, and nearly landed on top of his younger sister. No matter how many times he'd traveled by Floo, he would never get used to that queasy feeling.
"Mind your sister, Harry. Wouldn't want to ruin the pretty one of the family."
"James Avery Potter, stop teasing your son."
"Terribly sorry, won't happen again."
Harry looked upward to the smiling faces of his parents, both grinning madly at him. James held out a hand to help him up. He turned and addressed all of his children.
"Okay, unpack. And try to do it without magic. Follow the rules just this once . . ."
Harry smiled to himself, picked up his duffel, and followed his sisters up the stairs. They took that "just this once" comment very seriously. The familiar smell of violets, something baking, and an air of magic filled his nose as he trekked up a second flight of stairs to his turret room.
Inside his room it looked very nearly like Gryffindor Tower: crimson hangings lined the walls, heavy velvet drapes hung around his oak four-poster bed, and aside from the various Quidditch posters and classic brooms lining the walls, the general feel of the stone room was that of the common room back at Hogwarts. That was probably why Harry liked Hogwarts so much. He smiled to himself.
"I don't know what I'd do without my room," he said to himself, pitching his duffel bag in an overstuffed chair by the eastern window.
"Sleep with your sisters, I suppose."
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized where the voice originated.
"Hallo, again, Sirius," he said, plopping down in front of the green Floo fire where his godfather's disembodied head was floating.
"Hallo yourself. You give your house-elves too much work, you do," said Sirius, indicating the yet-to-be-unpacked duffel. "Best be careful or that Hermione of yours might have them all accepting clothes by next holiday."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Did you need something, Sirius?"
"No, just checking in, make sure you got home safely, that sort of thing. Nose clean, Harry."
Harry nodded. "Of course."
Sirius winked at him. "Pass it on."
With that, the cheeky grin and floppy black hair disappeared along with the rest of him, the fire fading soon after, and Harry was alone again. Finally he could enjoy some quiet after the long, noisy, very normal family holiday. He tucked his feet up underneath him and stared blankly into the empty fireplace, his mind slowly drifting away on the warm, lazy currents of air meandering through his room.
That is, until a clamor beneath him tore him from his peace. He growled inwardly. Sisters. Very likely, Carolyn had done something to destroy Elizabeth's room in the whole three minutes they had been home, and judging by the intensity of the screams, 'something' was quite horrid. Harry sighed and tried to think of something to serve as a distraction from the lungpower competition downstairs. Settling on the tin of Floo powder on the mantle, he got up on his knees and pitched a bit of it into the fireplace. Green flames kicked up immediately, and Harry quickly thrust his head into them.
"The Burrow," he shouted as his head entered the flames, steadying himself for the unpleasant sensation that always followed. A minute of swirling and some motion sickness later his vision cleared and the Weasleys' kitchen swam before his eyes. Mrs. Weasley stood near the sink, briskly directing a few pots and pans to clean themselves; she seemed hardly startled to see him.
"Well, hello, Harry! We just got the owl that you'd be home this afternoon. How was France?"
"Fine," said Harry. "Is Ron at home?"
"No, he's off somewhere with Ginny, I think. I'll tell him you called."
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."
Harry pulled his head out of the fire and watched the flames swirl back to normal. The tempest downstairs hadn't abated yet. What on earth is going on? he thought. A huge impact shook the floor and the sound of glass shattering resounded outside of his door. Sick of the noise (that, and he'd wanted to ride for days), Harry reached into his closet and pulled out his Firebolt. One contented sigh of relief later, Harry kicked off his floor and flew through the open window and out onto the manor grounds.
---
"Caro-LYYYYYYNNNNN!"
Elizabeth watched furiously as Carolyn giggled, waving a hand to slam her bedroom door closed, and pounded loudly up to her door, lights flickering as she passed. She could hear Carolyn laughing harder behind the locked door as she beat it with her fists.
"CAROLYN AELYSE POTTER IF YOU DON'T LET ME IN I'M GOING TO SCREAM!"
"You're already screaming!" called Carolyn through the door. Elizabeth let out a frustrated growl and heard something inside of the room burst. Carolyn's laughter increased. Eyes narrowed, Elizabeth's vision went blurry as all the magic in her body pushed out of her pores. Suddenly hinges popped and with a great groan of ancient wood forced apart by invisible hands, the door flew open. Red in the face and fuming, Elizabeth simply stood in the doorway and glowered. Carolyn's eyes widened and for a moment looked impressed, but then she continued laughing so uproariously that she rolled backward off her bed and landed in a heap on the floor. Elizabeth, frozen in the doorway, just let things shatter.
"If I find another rat, snake, spider, roach, doxy, or anything else that will damage my things and my health in my bedroom or any of my belongings," she seethed, "I will see to it that you are severely punished."
Carolyn snorted, poking her head up over her bed. "What'll you do to me?"
"Break your broomstick in half."
A flicker of fear passed behind Carolyn's eyes. "You wouldn't."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms superiorly. "Care to test me?"
"You don't have the powers to do that. You couldn't even if you tried."
Elizabeth snapped. She dove for the closet door as Carolyn went flying to protect it. Carolyn, much closer to the ground than Elizabeth, managed to throw her shoulder into her gawky fourteen-year-old sister's knees, and Elizabeth tumbled headlong into the bureau. For a moment she saw stars and rubbed the spot she knew would be a painful knot within minutes, but only for a second. She quickly retaliated, grabbing onto Carolyn's ankles and pulling her away from the door. Carolyn reached around and clutched at anything she could while Elizabeth leaned all of her weight on her sister's freckled calves. Finally, Carolyn's fingers found a hold in a chunk of Elizabeth's long black hair. Immobilized for the moment, their struggle came to words.
"Let go of me!"
"Apologize!"
"Leave my broomstick alone!"
"Leave my books alone!"
"Get off my legs!"
"Let go of my hair!"
"Prat!"
"Git!"
"Know-it-all!"
"Lowlife!"
"Snob!"
"Slytherin!"
"What's all this?"
Elizabeth instantly froze, and Carolyn went limp below her. The stern tone in her mother's voice was not at all unfamiliar (unfortunately), but most decidedly unwelcome, to say the least. There was fire in her green eyes, her eyebrows were nearly lost in her hair, and Elizabeth slowly felt her anger melt into anxiety.
"Well?" asked Lily. No one spoke. "If no one answers, I'll assume you both deserve the same punishment."
The dam broke, and Elizabeth's words began tumbling out of her mouth at the same rate as her sister's. But Elizabeth had the quicker wit, and Carolyn's protest was lost in the jumble of Elizabeth's righteous anger.
"She's always in my things, and never leaves me alone. There's no privacy, I haven't gone a day without discovering something else nasty hiding in my clothes, and she's always giggling incessantly in here. I've tried and tried to get her to listen, but she never does, and this was the last straw. She started it, there were spiders in my trunk that turned out to be all the books I brought with me and only two people had access to my trunk other than me and I know Harry didn't do it!"
"-- and she needs to lighten up!"
Lily looked contemplative. Elizabeth awaited the blow she knew would come.
"You both need to learn a way to get along," she said. "Carolyn, you will start Hogwarts this year and I expect you to be mature enough to handle living away from home. If you cannot restrain yourself and behave yourself without being monitored every minute of the day, I do reserve the right to either keep you home another year or remove you from the school and make you wait until next year to start up again."
Elizabeth watched Carolyn turn white beneath her freckles. Being held back from starting Hogwarts a year was the ultimate humiliation, especially for someone from a long-standing, prominent wizarding family like the Potters'. She felt sorry for Carolyn despite herself.
Lily was not through.
"And I would have expected more from you, Elizabeth. You have always been very mature for your age, and I thought you might have learned some control by now." Lily took a look at the room, taking account of all the damage for the first time. "Perhaps we should have sent you back to the Longbottoms' this summer. Judging by the state of this room, you let your anger get the better of you." Elizabeth's face burned with shame as she followed her mother's eyes around the chaos Carolyn's room had become. Bits and pieces of glass from a shattered beginner's potion kit littered the floor. Carolyn's trunk lid was thrown open as if a bomb had been set off inside it: clothes, toys, and books – one of which read Parshina Pickle's Pranks to Pickle Even the Most Precocious Prats – lay in strange patterns around the room. Madam Pickle peeked gingerly around the edge of her book cover, expecting another earth-shattering outburst from Elizabeth. Even the Qudditch players from the posters coating the walls edged nervously back into the borders of their frames, exchanging uneasy glances with one another. The one picture of the family in the room confirmed Elizabeth's sinking feeling that she had gone too far as her mother's image was a black and white twin of the one standing before her, and even her father bore a look that was more admonishment than amusement. Her own figure stared at the nightmare and shot her a sympathetic glance from behind dark fringe that hung too low over her forehead. The miniature Carolyn was laughing her head off while staying just out of arm's reach of miniature Elizabeth.
"As for your punishments," Lily continued, "Carolyn will relieve the house-elves of cleaning the kitchens for a week -- without magic of any sort." She paused, hand on hip, as Carolyn began to protest and didn't resume until she trailed off weakly. "Also set everything right in your sister's room." Carolyn exhaled noisily, extricated herself from Elizabeth, and threw herself on the furthest corner of her bed, suppressing her tantrum for the moment. "You, Elizabeth, will clean up this mess, donate part of your allowance to pay for the things you've broken, and spend the next two weeks before term at the Longbottoms'."
Elizabeth was crestfallen. Another humiliation. She would be reduced to spending days with children Carolyn's age and younger reviewing things she learned long ago. It wasn't uncommon to spend at least a few days the summer before finishing Hogwarts back in Magick School, but as a punishment it didn't hold the same value. At least she could see Jonas. It was a small bright side, but at this point she would take anything she could get.
"I suggest you get to work," said Lily, leaving them with a last stare and a heavy silence. Once their mother's footsteps descended the stairs, Elizabeth shook the tangles out of her hair and stood up indignantly.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get my work finished," she said haughtily. Carolyn stuck out her tongue.
"Don't break anything else," she said, stomping heavily out of the room and slamming the door behind her, knocking a framed picture of Irish National Seeker Aidan Lynch from his place of honor. Elizabeth stifled laughter as he was almost chucked unceremoniously from his broom. Sobering, she looked around her and sighed, watching a potion drip onto the floor. Cleaning up would be so much easier if she could just control her temper.
Or it would be even easier if Carolyn would stop trying to invent potions all the time. She could tell by the mustard yellow substance dripping from a shelf onto the hardwood floor that she had been at trying to create a new scouring concoction. As if the existing cleaning products weren't good enough, Carolyn had to go and make something that was, at present, burning a hole in the floor. Elizabeth blew her fringe out of her face and cracked her knuckles.
"Reparo," she said, waving her hand. The potion evaporated and the hole in the floor closed itself up. A quick sweep of the room took care of the rest of the spilled potions, then she swept the bits of broken glass into a rubbish bin, keeping tally of the number of vials she would have to buy in case Carolyn decided she wanted a few more.
A soft sound of something swooping past the window caught her attention. Outside in the mid-afternoon light she saw her brother, dipping and diving on his broomstick. She smiled as she watched him. He was wonderful in the air; Quidditch was probably his best skill. Suddenly, he nearly stopped in midair. For a moment she wondered what was wrong until he twisted around and went into a vertical dive. Elizabeth rushed to the window to watch him. At the very last moment, merely inches from the ground, he pulled himself up and turned a corkscrew parallel with the earth before soaring back into the air again.
"Wronski Feint," she said to herself. She pulled up the window and stuck her head outside.
"Beautiful dive, Harry!" she said. Harry was startled, but he looked at her and smiled.
"Thanks." He turned his broom and flew up alongside the house. "What was all that noise about earlier?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "The usual: sibling rivalry, that sort of thing. Carolyn destroys my things, I do the like in return. Sometimes I wonder if we'd fight like this if she was a boy."
"Probably. It's just your personalities that clash. You would miss her if she was gone." He closed his eyes as a particularly strong breeze ruffled his hair. "Tell mum and dad where I am, okay? I'll be in later."
Elizabeth nodded and he flew off. She closed the window and carried the rubbish down to the kitchen, relaying Harry's message to her mother on the way. She passed Carolyn on the stairs coming back up. Carolyn stuck her tongue out, but Elizabeth didn't do anything. It was best to take the high road with her.
After putting the bin back in Carolyn's room, Elizabeth went back down the hall to her own bedroom. She sighed a little and pulled her long, black hair out of its bun. Before she set to work unpacking her things (which were now spider-free), she plaited her hair and swapped out her summer clothes for a set of blue pajamas. She carefully and neatly piled the dirty laundry in its basket, then put away her books, smiling at each of them lovingly.
Her room was very comfortable. The bookshelf was located conveniently between the large, cushioned window seat and her favorite perch in the whole room: a massive, overstuffed, worn, forest green armchair that was actually nearly as old as the manor itself. It was big enough for her to curl up in with a good book in her lap, and she'd fallen asleep in it many times. This was the place she waited all year at Hogwarts to come home to.
Her fingers lingered on the spines of her books. Finally, she pulled out her favorite history tome (The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord Grindelwald) and curled up in her favorite chair.
Darkness began to fall smoothly and silently. Elizabeth's eyes grew heavy and the words swam across the page. Her mind began to drift into images of the great Albus Dumbledore, the romantic figure, clad all in white, challenging the great Black Wizard himself on Hogsmeade Plain outside the Hogwarts Grounds among crowds of supporters, ready at the first sign to fling curses at each other.
There was a very, very young Minerva McGonagall among a crowd of rebels. Beside her was a man who looked very much like her father she knew from old photographs: her great-grandfather Julius. The crowd was silent. Dumbledore called out a spell that lit the entire crowd with a blinding light . . .
The faces of the crowd melted away. Hogwarts melted away. The scene swirled around Dumbledore and suddenly they were in Diagon Alley. The Great Defeat. She could see the face of her father, standing there in robes black as night, her mother beside him. Sirius, Remus, and the hero, Peter Pettigrew, stood there, too. Dumbledore was high above the action, watching from a room in the Leaky Cauldron, McGonagall at his side.
There was another bright flash of light and suddenly they were in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. She stood facing the largest group of Death Eaters she had ever imagined. Harry stood beside her, Jonas was behind her, and Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Ron flanked them all. Everyone she knew . . . except the boy on her left. He was unfamiliar . . . his blonde hair . . . his posture . . . she could not see his face . . .
The Death Eaters advanced. Elizabeth's heart was in her mouth when suddenly a great rush of wind blew her hair away from her face and Harry was pricking her arm with his fingernails. She reached up a hand to make him stop . . .
Elizabeth's eyes flew open. A chilly wind was blowing around her room, having blown her window open. She was going to rise to close it, but then realized the pricking from her dream was still there. An owl was trying to get her attention by sticking its claws into her right arm. A letter was tied to its leg. She removed the letter and sent the owl on its way.
Lizzie it was addressed informally in Jonas's looping cursive. Elizabeth smiled to herself and opened the letter.
Dear Elizabeth,
I know we just saw each other, but I thought I would write you and tell you we are home safe. That, and Mum told me to. Neville's being a prat, but when that changes, I think I might drop dead. Dad's got me a potions set like Neville's, probably hoping I'm young enough to get into the N.E.W.T. class by next year. You'll have to come over and we'll invent some potions to rival Carolyn's. Well, Mum says I have to read my textbooks now. Ugh, it's History of Magic tonight. Maybe if I know everything before September 1st I can sleep through Binns' class. Fat chance, I know.
Yours,
Jonas
Oh! I forgot. Mum told me that you're coming to the Magick School for the next few weeks. Don't worry, I'll try and save you as much as possible.
Elizabeth laughed and folded the letter back into the envelope. Jonas was always very good at making her smile. They were cradle mates and had grown up together. When they were Sorted their first year, Jonas had gone first, then he waited for her before he sat down at the table. He had always been her best friend.
Romance had yet to become an issue between the two of them. Strangely enough, Elizabeth was never really interested in anyone, and Jonas seemed to not be, either. She was pretty certain that would change in this, their fourth year. Jonas was a sweet person. The girls would notice him soon enough. She just wasn't really ready to share him with anyone.
The wind swirling through her room by way of the still-open window was making her a bit cold. Remembering how late it probably was, she crossed to the window, closed and locked it, then climbed into her bed, waving a hand to shut off the lights.
Elizabeth awoke the next morning dreading the day ahead of her. Reluctantly, she shoved her bedclothes aside and rolled out onto the floor. She gathered her clothes for the day and trudged to the bathroom she shared with her sister. As she passed Carolyn's room she peeked inside to see if she was awake yet. She wasn't, so Elizabeth said a silent cheer and dashed into the lavatory to have a quick bath.
She had just finished when she heard her mother's voice amplified throughout the girls' hall reverberating, "It's time to wake up, girls! Elizabeth, Carolyn, up!" Elizabeth couldn't help resisting going into Carolyn's room and tossing her covers across it as she passed.
"Rise and shine, little sister!" she said in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could manage. Carolyn groaned and shot a death glare at Elizabeth, who had to laugh.
They made their way downstairs to the kitchen to travel to the Longbottoms' at a quarter to nine, Carolyn running a comb through her hair on the way.
"You're always behind, Carolyn," said Elizabeth.
"Shut it, you," she said, tucking her comb into her back pocket.
Their mother was waiting for them at the grate.
"Have everything you need?" she asked. The girls nodded. "All right, off you go."
Carolyn went first, then Elizabeth pitched her Floo powder in and was whisked away to the Longbottoms.
It had been so long since she'd been there for Magick School that she had forgotten what it was like. Ten or so kids of all sorts of ages were scuttling around like maniacs, some accompanied by parents chatting with Mrs. Longbottom, others slightly older and thinking themselves very independent. Carolyn parted ways with Elizabeth the moment they arrived, which Elizabeth couldn't have been more thankful for. Elizabeth caught Alice's eye, and the kind faced blonde witch winked at her. Elizabeth smiled back and settled in to suffer through.
It was a few hours later and Elizabeth was trying very hard to think of an excuse to see if Jonas was at home. Actually, she wondered why he hadn't lived up to his promise and come to rescue her yet. However, the next moment her irritation melted away into mirth.
"Swish and flick, Carolyn, swish and flick!"
Elizabeth and her classmates all jumped as the feather Carolyn was supposed to be levitating burst into flames. Alice waved her wand and the flames extinguished, and Carolyn's cheeks turned a dusty pink. Elizabeth held back a snicker behind her hand.
"All right, I think we've had enough wand-waving for today," said Alice, putting her own wand back in her belt. "Take a bit of a break."
Elizabeth sat back on the sofa and watched as a sheepish Carolyn swept the remains of her feather into the rubbish bin and received a comforting word from Alice. Her sister truly lived up to her reputation as a redhead. She knew from years at the Longbottoms' that after break would come hand work, then about an hour of control. The Magick School operated under the theory that developing one's magic was the key to controlling it. Most of the time was spent with a wand in their hands, learning to channel power into the thin piece of wood. The purpose of a wand was different for these children. For most witches and wizards, wands were used to draw power out, channel it, and direct it. Without them, most witches and wizards couldn't even perform simple spells. But for the Potters and a few other wizarding children, the wand was more of an outlet, a real tool that they had to work at to concentrate just enough of their magic through to complete the spell. And since the wand work required so much honing of their power, they also were taught how to work with their hands, so they didn't lose the natural ability granted to them.
They also tried to teach the very exact difference between hand magic and wandless magic. For most wizards, wandless magic is an inherent trait. They can perform spells without a wand and sometimes without an incantation if threatened or pressured. But those born with hand magic abilities actually could wield magic with their hands. Elizabeth took notice of her own as she sat and waited for a reason to escape.
"You're melancholy," said Alice, sitting next to Elizabeth. Elizabeth shrugged. "Oh, it can't be all that bad. It's only two weeks, and besides, we get to spend more quality time together. You know Headmistress McGonagall hates it when you use your hands instead of your wands."
There was a crash upstairs and both Elizabeth and Alice started. Alice sighed. "That'll be Jonas again. If they ever invent a charm to prevent clumsiness . . ."
Elizabeth stopped Alice from getting up. "I'll go," she said. "If it's something significant, I'll call you." Alice nodded.
"All right."
With a great sigh of relief Elizabeth had to try hard to keep herself from skipping up the stairs. Free at last! Jonas had a good tongue lashing approaching if he didn't come up with a good excuse for not getting her away sooner.
The source of the crash was immediately apparent when she reached the landing: a soft muttering was coming from Jonas' room just down the hall, and a few bits of broken glass lay on the floor. Elizabeth picked her way through them to Jonas' room.
He was kneeling on the floor among the glass, muttering to himself and making strange sweeping motions with his hand above it. She couldn't really tell what he was trying to do.
Then it hit her. He was trying to use hand magic.
"Come on, you stupid . . . You're useless . . . useless, useless, useless, useless . . ."
He kept repeating it. It was so sad to watch that Elizabeth was tempted to move the glass for him. But she knew that wouldn't help. It also wouldn't help him to have her see this, so she knocked on the frame of his door.
Jonas jumped to his feet, scattering glass across the floor. Elizabeth smiled at him.
"Can I come in?"
Jonas shrugged. "Sure, just be careful."
Elizabeth crossed cautiously to him and sat on his bed. "What happened?" she asked.
"My Gryffindor lion," he said mournfully. "I . . . dropped it."
Well, that certainly wasn't the whole story, but Elizabeth didn't pursue it. Instead she changed the subject.
"I got in trouble," she said, "so I'm going to be spending the next two weeks back here. Well, I guess you knew that."
Jonas sat beside her. "It's not so bad. At least you're learning things."
"But I already know it all," she blurted out. Jonas winced beside her, and she softened her tone. "It just makes me so angry that I have to come back here. I'm fourteen years old. I don't need this . . . I just . . . lose my temper sometimes."
Jonas snorted. "Sometimes? I think there were six detentions you were in because you lost your temper and destroyed something valuable of someone's at school last year. My personal favorite was Professor Trelawney's crystal ball last October."
"The old bat deserved it. Why I ever bothered with Divination is beyond me."
"Obviously, since you don't possess the Inner Eye to see why." Elizabeth gave him a good-natured look.
"You're lucky, you know," she said. "You don't have to deal with this."
"Oh, so lucky," said Jonas dryly. "Lucky to always be ten steps behind your brother, to be looked upon as the odd one out of the family, never living up to anyone's expectations . . ."
"But wand magic is natural for you. It's so difficult to make the magic that wants to come out of your fingers come out of your wand. Why do you think they created the Magick School? It's not natural for us." Jonas still looked crushed. "And it's not a matter of better, Jonas. It's a matter of different. You're wonderful with a wand! Some people are just given different gifts than others."
"You're lucky all of your siblings are the same."
"You don't think that's unnatural? Statistically, hand magic is only supposed to occur once in a family every thirty generations or so. There's something very unnatural about the Potter siblings."
Jonas was silent. Elizabeth kicked gently at some glass on the floor. Rarely did they have silences like these. Usually Jonas was a bubbling force of energy that would babble on and on about some new book he'd read, or his wondrous advancement in the world of broomstick riding. This was a side of Jonas that was rare but very intense. He felt inferior, and she knew that sometimes being best friends with her was the hardest thing he could do.
The glass still lay on the floor. Unconsciously, Elizabeth was about to wave a hand over it to fix it, but after a second thought and a glance at Jonas she pulled her wand from her sash and pointed it. "Reparo," she said, and suddenly there was a glass lion figurine lying in its place.
"There, now we don't have to worry about cleaning it up," she said, putting it back on top of his bureau. She sat back on his bed and nudged him gently, trying to make him smile. He managed a weak one, but she knew it wasn't something he was going to forget easily.
"So how did you knock over that lion?" she asked. He blushed slightly.
"I was packing for school, and . . . and I . . . I mean to say . . . I was trying to reach the top shelf and I bumped it with my elbow."
His hesitation told her he was lying again, but she didn't press him. "Well, how is your flying going?"
He groaned. "Terribly. I've never had a chance, and I have even less of a chance this year."
"Why? We've lost most of our team, you should have more of a chance this year."
"Yeah, and that's why I'm going to fail miserably. I have less of a chance when there's more of a chance."
Elizabeth was growing weary of his defeatist attitude. She jumped up off the bed, held out her hand and said, "Well, then, let's see your skills. I'm not that good on a broom, either, but maybe watching my clumsiness will make you feel better about yourself."
Jonas looked indecisive, then reluctantly took her hand and followed her out back. They stopped at the broom shed and pulled out two old Comet Two-Sixty models that they used for practice. The best thing about the Longbottoms' was that it was surrounded by woods for acres, so the chance of a Muggle spotting them at Quidditch was unlikely. Jonas took off, rather shaky at first, but he found his bearings and could at least stay on his broom.
Which is more than you could say for Elizabeth. She wasn't a terrible flier, but she really didn't like it. She found herself struggling for balance and it took her a full five minutes to become steady in the air. Jonas was laughing as she worked to maintain her shifty balance.
"What did I tell you? At least you can stay on your broom!" She breathed for a moment, steady for just a split second, then she slipped sideways and had to grip the broom with her elbows to keep herself from falling.
"Come on, Elizabeth!" called Jonas, swooping down to pick up a forgotten Quaffle that lay in the grass. "You Keep, I'll Chase!"
Unsteadily, Elizabeth flew over to the baskets they had set up as makeshift hoops and pretended she knew what she was doing. Jonas flew at her over and over, sometimes missing the hoops, sometimes scoring, but never did Elizabeth block him. He had been practicing, but against a skilled Keeper he might not have as much luck.
It was late afternoon when they landed again. Elizabeth's knuckles were sore from gripping the broomstick so tightly, but Jonas was grinning from ear to ear.
"Maybe I have got a chance," he said brightly. Elizabeth massaged her sore forearms and tried to smile.
"I'm glad you think so," she said. He threw the broom and Quaffle back in the broom shed and nearly skipped inside. Elizabeth smiled a little at him as she stowed away her own broom. She was always glad when she could help, but she just hoped whoever the new Quidditch Captain was would think he was wonderful.
She went inside to find the Magick School empty except for her sister, who was standing with her arms crossed and looking rather sour.
"We ought to have been home half an hour ago," she said. Elizabeth shrugged.
"You could have gone on," she answered, crossing to the fireplace and tossing a fistful of Floo powder into the flames.
"No I couldn't, you know that. Mum said to stay together."
"The Estate!" she cried, ignoring her sister completely. A few seconds later she tumbled through the fireplace in her family's kitchen, Carolyn just behind her. Her eyes fell on a pair of blue trainers, then followed the person up to see her mother standing there, an intent look on her face and pointing the handle of a scrub brush in Carolyn's direction. Elizabeth tried not to laugh until she'd reached the stairs as she heard Carolyn's words of protest that fell on her mother's deaf ears.
The upstairs was empty, and she vaguely wondered where Harry was before going into her room to take a nap. Waking up early in the summer was an awful concept.
---
Harry leaned against Ron's bed and sighed. Boredom ruled the day. Ron was reclined on his bed, flipping chocolate frog cards into the air, Hermione was leaning against the door, her knees tucked up to her chin, Neville was in the chair in front of Ron's desk, twirling a quill between his fingers, and Ginny was laying on her stomach at Harry's feet, playing with the loose toes of his socks.
"I'm bored," said Ginny, rolling over onto her back.
"Me, too," said Ron. "There's nothing to bloody do here."
No one spoke. The August heat was bearing down on them, even indoors, with a vengeance. The drought had dried up the pond behind the Burrow, so swimming was out of the question, and anything else they could do had long since been exhausted with what Harry could only describe as the laziest summer he had ever experienced.
"We could always go to my house," said Neville.
"With the Magick School? No thank you," said Ron.
"We could do our homework," suggested Hermione pointedly at the boys.
"Hermione, we have two weeks, it'll get done," said Harry, flipping Ginny's hair with his toe.
"I wish we were back in France," said Neville. "Now that we're home, I have time to worry about school again. At least I can look forward to not taking Potions. I'm certainly not in Slughorn's class anymore."
"But Neville, you're good at other things. You should be happy with your own abilities."
"I wish I was as good at Potions as my dad wants me to be. He gave me a whole new kit for my birthday this year, and he offered to help me practice this summer."
"You can't blame him for wanting you to do well. Besides, Potions is probably the most useful of all the subjects we've taken . . ."
"Ugh, can we please stop talking about school?" groaned Ron and Ginny. Harry laughed.
They were quiet again for a few moments, during which time Neville reached out a hand to Hermione and traced the creases in it like a palm reader. Harry stared at the top of Ginny's head and felt strange shivers run through him like they always did when he gazed at her for a length of time. She was lazily picking at her fingernails that bore the remnants of pale pink polish, and as he examined her thin fingers (the third on her left hand interested him the most), he watched her stomach rise and fall with every breath. He was content in the moment.
"When should we call the next meeting of the D.A.?" Neville asked, breaking the silence. Harry had nearly forgotten about it, although he shouldn't have. Dumbledore's Army, an allegiance of students from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor, was the students' answer to the Order of the Phoenix, and had been in existence since their third year. He didn't want to have to think about it, but since Neville had brought it up, he knew as the leader he would have to make some decisions.
"Well, do we have any news?" asked Hermione, always practical. "It doesn't make sense to call a meeting if nothing's happened."
"I haven't heard anything," said Harry. "But maybe someone else has. It can't hurt to regroup at the beginning of the year."
"Yes, but why risk it if we have nothing to talk about?"
"I have something to talk about."
Everyone turned to look at Ginny, who pushed herself into a sitting position on the floor. She looked a little pale, and seemed to hold a great secret. She looked at each of their surprised faces for a moment before speaking.
"I can't believe I'd forgotten about this. A few nights ago, I went downstairs to get a glass of water, and I noticed a light on in the front room. I went over to see what it was, and I heard Mum and Dad talking."
"What were they saying?" asked Harry unnecessarily.
"I dunno," said Ginny, looking at the ground, "I only heard a little . . . but there was something about a prophecy, and a weapon, and . . ." She looked up at them. "A rumor. A whisper. No one knows for sure, but . . ." She lowered her voice until she was barely audible. "Dumbledore is coming back."
No one said anything. If they were surprised before, it was nothing to how they felt now. Neville had gripped Hermione's hand tightly, Ron was sitting up straight on his bed, and Harry could hardly believe it. The legend of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard that had ever lived, was the foundation of their secret organization. None of them had ever met Dumbledore, who had disappeared shortly after the Great Defeat of 1980, but all of them knew of him. Their parents spoke of him as a great wizard, the best Headmaster ever to govern Hogwarts, and a kind, courageous man. His name was always spoken as a whisper, as if saying it out loud would make him vanish forever. Everyone always said he would return when the hour was near, when the end of the long war was near. Now, if Ginny was right, if her parents were right . . . Harry could barely begin to imagine what it might mean.
"What do you reckon?" asked Ron, looking from one to the others. "What do you make of it?" Harry's dream-like state of hope melted, bringing him back to reality.
"We don't know what it means yet," said Harry.
"Right, it's only a rumor," added Hermione matter-of-factly. "Until we get some real evidence, I don't think we should say anything."
"But . . . if he's really coming back . . ." Neville said tremulously.
"Then he's coming back," said Ginny simply.
"And we'll have to be ready when he does," said Harry.
The five friends fell quiet again, smothered by the heat, each lost in their own thoughts. Dumbledore back . . . the end of the war . . . It was far too good to be true.
Suddenly Harry found Ginny's hand in his. She didn't say anything, but she looked at him so that he knew she wanted to leave. He laced their fingers together and followed her out into the hall and down the stairs. The Burrow never changed. Always the same dusty walls, the same worn floorboards, the same ruckus echoing throughout. Ginny led him by the hand out into the garden, then through the gate and out on the lawn. They wandered for a while in the garden, not saying anything, simply lost in their own worlds beside each other. They stopped at a bench under a great beech tree and sat beside each other.
Harry breathed in deeply, taking in the Burrow and its simple beauty. He would always love his home, but it was so big that most of it remained empty with his small family. For some reason he wondered what would happen if his family and the Weasleys' switched houses. He could imagine Ron and Ginny growing up in spacious rooms beside each other, eating supper in the formal dining hall and playing Quidditch above the acres of gardens around the house. He turned to look at Ginny, seeing her in his family's home, and she fit. But he preferred her here. He would always remember her here.
"It's so quiet," whispered Ginny after a moment. "Strange how the world seems so far away."
Harry didn't say anything. He simply watched Ginny's eyes roam across the sky and over her house and the flowers nearby. He regretted very much that school would be starting in just a few weeks and they wouldn't be able to enjoy many more moments like this, what with Ginny's O.W.L.s and his N.E.W.T. classes. If he had his way he would spend every day like this: relaxed and open in her company.
"I've been thinking about . . . about the rumor," continued Ginny. "And . . . if it really happens, if it really means the end of the war . . . I don't know what's going to happen. I mean, how would it happen? I've always been told there would be a big battle, like the Great Defeat. And . . . I mean, you hear stories of what it was like, and we all know what it's been like since, but . . ." She turned herself to face him. "Harry, how do we know we're all going to make it through this?"
Harry hadn't expected her to say anything like that, and didn't know what to say. To his surprise, he realized he'd never really thought about it. They were young, untouchable, and the war was a million miles away. He couldn't comfort her; there was nothing he could say that would tell her yes, and they would all see the other side. Because, he suddenly realized, they wouldn't.
A sudden rush of caring taking over him, Harry gently rested the back of his knuckles against her cheek, meeting her gaze levelly. Her soft brown eyes were earnest, searching for an answer and yet not really expecting one. The fire that fueled her was evident behind them, but he could also see the fear. She was so strong, but this new, overwhelming urge to keep her safe coursed through him.
"I promise I'll protect you," he said in a voice that didn't really sound like his. Ginny laughed.
"Who said I need protecting?" she said defiantly. She gently reached her hand up to his, taking it away from her face and holding it in her lap. "For some reason, I think you might be the one we need to protect."
"Oh really?" countered Harry awkwardly, the serious tone of her voice unnerving him. "Well, I'm not the one who's in detention every other Saturday."
"At least mine is by choice. I'm living life to the fullest, Potter, you should join me."
"I'm miles ahead of you, Weasley."
They laughed together, and Ginny looked away from him almost demurely. They'd only been together for a little more than a month now, but this was the most he had ever cared about anyone he'd dated. He wanted to be close to her all the time, and the closer he was to her, the better. Moving just a little nearer to her on the bench, he lightly ran his fingertips up and down her bare arm. She shivered under his touch, but it wasn't the weather. He felt his own veins fill with that strange sensation. Not wanting to rush anything, he reached from her arm to push her hair back out of her face. Gently, he rested his fingers under her chin and guided her lips to his. This happened so rarely that he had to savor every moment, and as she slid her hands behind his neck to tangle her fingers in his hair he wished this would never end.
Ginny pulled away, her face breaking into a grin. "I didn't think nice boys kissed like that," she said. Harry gave her a light peck on the lips and grinned back.
"Whoever said I was a nice boy?" he teased. They leaned back together, but just as they were about to make contact the storm door bashed open.
"Oi, lovebirds!" came Ron's voice. "Come out of the bushes, Mum says it's time for supper."
Harry tried not to look disappointed, but Ginny growled loudly. "Sod off, Ron, and tell Mum we'll be there in a minute!"
The door bashed again and Ron's voice disappeared. Ginny gave Harry a look of apology. "He's such a prat," she said.
"Don't excuse him, he's my best friend."
"Still, he didn't have to come storming out the way he did."
Harry gave her a last kiss before they had to go inside, reluctantly separating quickly so they wouldn't be missed. "We just need to find someplace more private next time," he said, only half joking.
Hand in hand, they stood and walked inside, only ceasing contact when they entered the kitchen to whistles from Ron and Neville and looks of high disapproval from Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. They took seats across from each other, and with a slight wink Harry scrawled a quick note on the table with his finger.
I've heard the Astronomy Tower is good for snogging, haven't you?
Ginny looked down at the table in front of her and snorted. As discreetly as she could manage she touched each of the letters in order and a message appeared back to Harry.
in your dreams
He smiled as the letters disappeared. He loved that he and Neville had come up with such an ingenious way of communicating. Only those with hand magic could actually write freehand messages, but even those without the gift, like Ginny, could pick out the letters they needed for return messages. For a moment, he thought he'd seen Neville recognize their method of personal correspondence sitting on his left, but he didn't seem to notice.
Supper went by quietly. Mrs. Weasley wasn't always as talkative when Mr. Weasley was late at work. The Muggle contraband that he was confiscating nowadays was much more sinister than it once ways, the adults said. Harry watched her eyes flicker to her family clock often, and she would seem to want to jump when she heard any noise remotely like someone Apparating. Harry loved Mrs. Weasley and he loved eating meals at the Burrow, but it was always strange when it was only Ron, Ginny, and their mother at home.
After the meal, they trekked back up to Ron's room, where they played alternating games of Exploding Snap and gobstones. Before he knew it, Harry had lost all track of time, and darkness had fallen. He and Neville realized how late it was (Hermione was staying with Ginny), said their goodbyes, and each took their turn through the grate.
Once back at home, Harry tiptoed through the kitchen and past the study, trying not to disturb anyone, for he learned that you could often hear useful bits of information if adults didn't know you were there. Uncommonly that night, he found the study door actually shut, a light shining out from underneath it. And through the closed door his parents' voices drifted, speaking in hushed, worried tones.
"James, I don't like this. Something is not right."
"It's not like he'll just be here overnight! He's got to plan, to make certain everything is ready. Then there's that to consider . . ."
"Don't even mention it. As if things aren't bad enough already, we have to worry about whether or not it has anything to do with our children!"
Harry didn't have a clue what his parents were arguing about, but obviously it might have something to do with him. He wondered just what "it" was.
"It's incredibly vague, Lily. For all we know it could mean nothing—"
"It speaks of an Heir, James!"
His parents grew quiet. He thought he heard movement and maybe the creaking of springs. His mother spoke again.
"I just can't willingly put them in danger," said his mother.
"We don't have to decide anything now," said James. "We still don't know exactly what it means. And until he returns . . ."
"We might never know."
Harry tried to get closer to the door so he could hear more properly. They must be talking about Dumbledore! That was the only person who could be returning, at least with that much influence. He took a step toward the study, but he'd laid his foot on the squeaky board.
"Who's there?" called James. Harry knew he was caught, so he raised his hand to knock on the door.
His father answered it. "Harry," he said, surprised. Harry tried to make it appear as though he hadn't heard anything.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Mrs. Weasley asked me to stay for supper."
"It's all right," said his father. Harry wasn't entirely certain he'd convinced his father of his ignorance. James looked very nervous and after an awkward pause he said abruptly, "Well, good night, Harry."
"Good night, Dad."
With that he left the strange air behind him and climbed the stairs to his room, though a part of him longed to stay on the other side of that door. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but he knew no one would answer any of them. Resigned to simply wonder, Harry changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, hoping that at some point all of his doubts would be laid to rest.
Harry woke up late the next morning. He stretched lazily and yawned. Another incredibly lethargic day.
He chucked his covers off the bed and shook himself awake. If today was going to be lazy, he might as well start it as such.
His shower was quick, and he ran a hand through his hair after dressing and before going to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat. Perhaps he would take his broom out again today.
The house was deserted, which was strange. He supposed Carolyn and Elizabeth were at the Longbottoms', but where were his parents? Dad was probably back on the job, since being an Auror meant he was always on call, but he remembered his mother saying she had a few extra days off. Maybe he was wrong.
Since no one was there to tell him otherwise, Harry poured himself a large bowl of a very sugary cereal and drowned it in milk. He settled down at the beat-up old wooden table they typically took their breakfast off of and dug into his unhealthy meal.
"I always knew you wanted an early grave, I just thought you'd find a more dignified way of getting yourself there."
Harry nearly spilled all of his cereal into his lap at the loud voice right beside him. He whipped his head sideways and found himself looking straight at the laughing face of his godfather.
"If you keep sneaking up on me, I think you might just be the cause of my death," he replied, shoving a spoonful of his breakfast in his mouth.
"What, stop doing it and miss those precious looks on you face? Never."
Sirius was insufferable. His father told him he always had been. In school when he'd been the ladies' favorite, then Auror training when he had gloated over every little victory, and finally now that he was the good-looking, swinging bachelor of the bunch, he'd taken pride in his small accomplishments. And sometimes a little bit too much pride.
"Where are Mum and Dad?"
"Out," replied Sirius. The vague answer usually meant something for the Order of the Phoenix, which the adults liked to pretend the children knew nothing about, which consequently suited the purposes of the children quite well. "I'm here to babysit."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You're here to spy, make sure I'm keeping my nose clean. For your information, I haven't been in contact with anyone . . ."
Sirius looked interested as Harry trailed off. "Go on," he said, leaning against a counter top and folding his arms. "Uncle Siri is always here to listen."
"Bugger off, I know you know about the D.A."
Sirius pretended to be surprised. "Come now, come now. What's this D.A.?"
"Our Order," said Harry. "And you can't tell me that with all of the Order members' children that are in the D.A. none of them know about it. I thought it was your job to know."
Sirius gave him a very stern look and when he spoke again it was very gravely. "Harry, I'm only going to tell you this once. Be extremely cautious with what you are doing. You're lucky that you've been able to lay low for as long as you have. Times are changing, Harry . . ."
Harry jumped up from the table. "Is it Dumbledore?" he asked quickly. "Is he really coming back?"
Sirius exhaled deeply and shook his head. "I can't tell you that, Harry."
"But you've heard it. The rumor, I mean."
"Harry, rumors happen all the time. Whenever things . . . get bad, people start believing Dumbledore is coming again. It's something that gives them hope. People have always said things like this, you're just old enough now to hear it and know what it means."
Harry was crestfallen. "Do you think he's ever coming back?" he asked, dreading the answer. Sirius didn't look at him.
"I believe . . . that whatever we need will come. If Dumbledore is indeed what we need to bring down Voldemort, he will return. He has more wisdom than anyone could ever imagine. He's out there somewhere, and he knows what's best for us. He's had plenty of time to pick his reappearance date."
"Yeah, but do you think he's coming back?"
Sirius rubbed his face with his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair. "I hope he does, yeah."
That wasn't quite the same thing, but Harry let it go. This disillusioned man before him was a side of Sirius that he had never seen. Harry wanted to change the subject, but didn't know what to say.
"So tell me about your D.A." said Sirius finally. "What does it stand for?"
"Dumbledore's Army," said Harry sheepishly. Sirius laughed. "I know, it's rather lame, but we were third years when we thought of it. It was only supposed to be temporary, but it kind of stuck. We couldn't think of anything else."
"I wish your father and I possessed the presence of mind to come up with something like that," he said. "We didn't really see the world for what it was. The price for being content teenagers."
"You had the Marauders, though."
"That's not the same. The Marauders were simply four friends who happened to make mischief. Which we still do today, I might add. Quite successfully." Harry smiled. Sirius settled himself on top of the counter. "Your dad hasn't told you much about us, has he?"
Harry shook his head. "I think he thinks it would be a bad influence."
"Of course it would. And a fifteen-year-old James would have been quite proud if his past had a bad influence on his only son. But your father . . ."
"Has changed, I know. Sometimes it's hard to believe he did some of the things I know back at school. Sometimes it's easy, though."
Sirius laughed again. "Fatherhood certainly sobered James a bit. The only one of the four of us to ever have kids. I mean, it was obvious he would be. What with Remus' lycanthropy, my impossible fear of commitment, and Peter's death before the age of twenty-five, who would expect anything else? I guess I'm boring you."
Harry shrugged. "A little. I want to know about you in school. What were you all like? Did my mum and dad always date? Did you know each other when you were little? What was your favorite prank? Who was your favorite professor?"
"Whoa, slow down," said Sirius. "Why aren't you asking your father about this?"
"He doesn't really want to share it. Like I said, he thinks it would be a bad influence on me. Besides, I know what my dad's like. I want to hear it from someone else's point of view."
"Actually, your friends remind me of us some. Like Neville. He's classic James at the height of his maturity. And you, of course, take after me, with a little of your father thrown in for good measure. And little Jonas is a bit like Remus. Not quite a prefect, but he has his heart in the right place. Then Ron. He's a good kid, very gentlemanly, very much like his father, really, but he also reminds me of all the best parts of Peter."
"What was Peter like?"
"Short. Pudgy. A bit slow. But he was loyal. And he proved that in the end."
"How?"
Sirius sighed. "The Great Defeat. Poor Peter had gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters out of fear. But we managed to convince him to come back to our side, that we'd protect him. Before the fighting had even started, some lunatic on the other side saw Peter and recognized him as a traitor. So he threw the Killing Curse at him and started the battle. Peter was the first casualty of the bloodiest engagement we had ever seen."
"And Ron really reminds you of him?"
Sirius looked down at him. "Like I said, all the best parts. You never heard that story before?" Harry shook his head. "I would have thought everyone knew it by now, the way they talk about Peter the hero. Your dad really never told you any of this?"
"None of it. He takes risks in his life, but he doesn't want me to take any in mine." There was a slightly bitter tone in what Harry said. Sirius smiled at him.
"James is quite the father. He got overprotective when . . . well, when you three were young. This war is scary for parents. But you've still got me." He winked. "And trust me when I say there are more people looking out for your safety than you know."
Harry pushed his cereal around with his spoon uncomfortably. The idea that anyone was watching him was unnerving, as was the fact that Sirius wasn't saying anything. Finally, he hopped off the counter and said, "Well, that's enough of my spying for today. Oh, also, your mum asked me to tell you that you have a visit with your aunt, uncle, and cousin this afternoon and that your dad is out buying you clothes."
"I thought you said you didn't know where he was," exclaimed Harry. Sirius shrugged.
"I lied." With that, he turned on the spot and disappeared with a small crack!
Harry finished his cereal with a little dread. He'd never met the Durski's . . . or was it Dursley? . . . before. Apparently they were wizard-hating Muggles that had refused to see his family for years. Why they wanted to see them now was beyond him.
He spent the rest of the morning lazing about the house, and it was earlier than usual that Carolyn and Elizabeth were heard downstairs. His father was not far behind with very uncomfortable Muggle clothes. He changed into them reluctantly, anxiously waiting for the time he could switch back into his jeans and trainers.
"Why do we have to dress up?" he asked. His father simply gave him a look.
"We need to look presentable. They've never met the three of you before. Oh, and also, while we're there, you shouldn't mention anything about magic. There isn't a wizard in the area for miles, so they're much undisturbed Muggles."
Lily arrived within the next quarter of an hour, and they all gathered around an old sardine can. Dad counted down, and they all reached for it at the same time. Harry felt the familiar pull behind his navel and resigned himself to the trip.
It was a warm, stuffy neighborhood. Very few children were outside, and every house had a very nice car in the driveway. Harry wondered how far they were from the house as they set off down the street.
Harry was used to Godric's Hollow, where the houses were older, not quite so identical, and not quite so close together. He found the whole thing rather bland and somewhat unsettling.
"Carrie, don't fidget with you collar."
"Oh, I hate these clothes. Why can't we just wear our regular wiz-"
James held a hand up to silence his youngest child. "Remember what I said about mentioning you-know-what in this neighborhood? We're lucky your aunt even agreed to see us at all."
"Oh yeah, lucky," muttered Harry. He was in a suit. It was black wool, and his tie was nearly strangling him. The heat was bearing down with all its force and he thought he might cook to death inside his sheep's covering. He loved Dad, but sometimes he was guilty of trying just a little too hard.
His sisters weren't much more comfortable. Carolyn was wearing a knee-length plaid skirt and a white button-down with a high Peter Pan collar. Her feet must have been hot since they were tucked into polyester knee-highs and black patent leather mary-janes. Elizabeth hadn't fared much better. She was wearing a long-sleeved white dress shirt covered by a grey sweater vest. She, too, had on a knee-length skirt, but hers was the same grey as her vest and made of wool. Her own patent leather mary-janes must have been giving her blisters, because she wasn't wearing any socks at all.
"Okay, kids, just . . ." said James as he rang the doorbell, adjusting his blue gingham bow tie, "be normal."
The door opened and a blonde woman whose face resembled that of a horse stood behind it.
"Hello, Petunia!" said Lily.
"Hello, Lily," she replied. The woman surveyed the children with a slight look of disgust on her face. "Won't you all come in?"
His mother went first, followed by Elizabeth and a protesting Carolyn. Harry exchanged a look with his father, then followed the girls inside.
The house was awful. It was too clean, and smelled of lemon and pine. There were pictures of an appallingly fat boy on every available surface, and the whole thing had the feel of stagnancy and, well, discomfort. He thought about the bright colors and open spaces of his home and was certainly glad he didn't live here.
"Dudley, Vernon, they're here."
Harry nearly started laughing as the two largest human beings he'd ever seen in his life came around the corner and into the sitting room. The largest one with a mustache extended his hand to his father.
"Vernon Dursley, drills."
"Erm, James Potter, law enforcement."
"A man with a badge, then?" Vernon chuckled a broad, phony laugh. "Of course, the pay can't be very good, can it? Being a public employee?"
"Er . . . it's good enough."
"Hi, Vernon, it's wonderful to see you again," said Lily. Harry was amazed at how much fake enthusiasm was being put forth in the room. All he wanted was to leave.
"Yes, hello." His mother had said before they arrived that Vernon was a very self-centered man who would only want to compare their car with his own and find every possible way to make his appear better. Of course, the Potters didn't own a car, which made this much more difficult. The other large one was silent and even looked a little afraid, which was, in fact, a relief. Harry had been under the impression that they would show up at the door with torches and pitchforks from what his parents had said.
"This is Dudley," said Petunia. "Say hello to your cousins, Dudley."
He waved a piggy hand once but didn't say anything. Harry again had to keep himself from laughing out loud.
"Well, these are our children," replied his mother. "This one is Elizabeth, our genius, the redhead is our little mischief-maker Carrie, and the tall, handsome one is our eldest, Harry."
Vernon seemed to be just as nervous as his son as he compulsively shook their hands. Petunia presented a tray of tea and they all sat down. Harry and his sisters were silent as the adults attempted to have a conversation.
"So, Lily, are you employed?" asked Vernon. Lily looked between her sister and her husband, then back at Vernon.
"Yes, actually, I'm a file clerk at the office where James works."
Vernon snorted. "I always said women's place was in the home. I suppose your children have grown up with strangers raising them."
"Actually, our best friends have looked after them since they were small," replied James defensively.
"And I suppose they're just like you."
Petunia put a hand on Vernon's knee. James had gone very white and Lily was looking more and more like an embarrassed Weasley.
Surprisingly, it was Petunia who broke the silence. "Dudley, why don't you go and show your cousins the house? Maybe give them a go on your Nintendo?"
Dudley looked like this was the very last thing he wanted to do, but at his mother's request he stood and awkwardly beckoned the Potter siblings up the stairs.
Harry all of a sudden wished he'd taken at least one year of Muggle Studies. Everything in Dudley's room was foreign to him, except for a few books sitting on a shelf that looked as though they hadn't been touched in years.
"So where's this Ninja-dough thingy and what does it do?" asked Harry, looking around the room.
"Don't you dare touch anything!" exclaimed Dudley. "My Nintendo was a Christmas present and I won't have weirdos like you lot messing it up."
"We're not weirdos," said Harry, irritated. "And didn't your mum just tell you to come up here and play nice?"
"Look, shrimp, I don't let kids push me around . . ."
"You want to make a fight out of it?" Harry flexed his fingers and balled them into a fist, ready to punch. But Dudley saw his fingers move and suddenly went crazy.
"Don't you use you-know-what on me!" he squeaked. "I . . . I'll call my mum and you'll be in trouble!"
Harry was confused. He hadn't intended to use magic whatsoever. He released his fist and tried to calm Dudley down. It wouldn't be a pleasant thing for his mother to hear his squeaking and punish them all. Elizabeth and Carolyn looked as though they were trying to melt into the wall.
"DON'T YOU COME NEAR ME!" yelled Dudley again. "DON'T YOU DARE!"
"Dudley, I'm not going to use magic, it's—"
"MUUUUUM!"
A few seconds later the door burst open and Harry wished with every fiber of his being that he knew how to Apparate. In the doorway, somehow, all four parents had managed to wedge their head and shoulders. Petunia looked like a ghost, while Vernon was slowly becoming the choice purple of a beet. His own parents looked both concerned and admonishing. If this had been a normal situation, Harry would have launched into an explanation right then and there, but the Dursleys didn't give him a chance.
"What did you do to my son?" demanded Vernon. Harry shook his head.
"Nothing! I didn't do anything! I was only trying to calm him down, and he thought I was attacking him!"
"He told me he was going to use you-know-what on me!"
"I didn't, I said I wasn't going to use magic—"
Petunia let out a high-pitched squeal. Vernon's purple darkened until he resembled a large, round grape.
"Get out of my house," he demanded. "All of you get OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
Carolyn and Elizabeth looked scared. His parents looked shocked. Harry couldn't have asked for a better invitation.
The Dursleys had all backed away from the Potters, looking at them like escaped circus freaks who had invaded their house in the middle of the night. Lily looked at her sister and her sister's husband, her mouth open, and looked crushed. James gently took hold of Carolyn and Elizabeth.
"All right, Harry, let's go," he said, leading the kids down the stairs.
"I'm so sorry," he heard his mother say as he followed his father out of the door.
They waited outside for what seemed like half an hour until Lily left the house. She was in tears.
"Let's go home," she said. The family followed her at a brisk pace, James making his way to the front to walk with his wife.
"I'm sorry about your sister . . ." he said.
"She called us freaks, James!" she said. "She said we were unnatural, blasphemous . . . she called our children freaks . . ."
"It's all right," he said. "We never have to go back there again . . ."
Harry could tell there was more his mother wanted to say, but she didn't. He hadn't ever really been introduced to a world outside of his own sheltered community. He'd heard about the cruelty against wizards hundreds of years ago, but he never would have thought a modern family would be so intolerant. With a glance back at the house, Harry closed his eyes for a moment and thanked whatever deity that would listen for giving him his family instead of one like the Dursleys'.