The past two weeks had been some of the strangest of Seeker Potter's life.

Mister Fitzpatrick had been very nice to him, showing him the new wards at Privet Drive and explaining how they helped make him safer. Harry had even felt them as he stepped onto the property - a very subtle tingle on his skin.

Then he had taken Harry up to his room, which had been completely redone. The door to Dudley's second bedroom had a new handle, and above it was an old-fashioned lock. Carrying Harry's trunk, Fitzpatrick gestured to the door. "Go ahead, Harry, open it."

Harry looked at him a moment, before taking the handle. He felt a sharp pinprick on his finger, and then heard a click as the door swung open. Fitzpatrick saw him look at his finger.

"Now that door will only open for you, if you lock it." he said. "It's a simple but effective security measure."

Harry nodded. "Alright, I can live with that." Then his eyes went to the interior of the room. "Oh, oh wow."

The drab and dusty space had been transformed. The walls were a deep red, matching a large rug that took up the majority of the floor. The old desk had become a larger, proper desk with drawers and enough space for books and parchment at the same time. He now had a bookshelf and a wardrobe, along with what looked like a small cabinet built into his nightstand.

Harry was surprised to see a poster for the 1990 English National Football Team alongside a poster for the Appleby Arrows, a Quidditch Team. Now, Fitzpatrick's random sports questions in the car made more sense - they had tried to choose teams he liked. With no favorites, they picked these.

The bed was not a four-poster, but it was about as large as it could be and still fit into the room - and easily twice the size of the old bed. Fitzpatrick saw his eyes and laughed. "We tried to talk your uncle into letting us expand the room, but he put his foot down. So we did the next best thing and expanded the furniture." He walked to the window, which was now a small dormer. The window overlooking the backyard was joined by a smaller, round window at the top of the wall. To Harry's surprise, a large brass perch was already in place, along with a tray for bacon or treats.

Fitzpatrick opened the small window and tapped a stone below it. The window glowed for a moment and then returned to normal. "This is an owl window, Harry. It can stay open, and the runes will keep the weather out while letting owls and their deliveries in."

Harry nodded, taking in the room. He walked over to the bed, sitting down. Fitzpatrick pulled out the desk chair and sat as well.

The solicitor told Harry about the wards that protected him specifically, not just the ones for everyone in the house. He said that there were wards that would trigger if he was sick or injured, or if he tapped his new desk with his wand in a particular spot. Harry had frowned at that, despite the protection it offered.

"A safe house does not need a panic button, Mister Fitzpatrick." He had said.

"No, no it does not. But this house, despite its history, is the safest option for you at the moment." Fitzpatrick had sighed, then, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For good or ill, they are your official guardians."

Aha, Harry thought. "My Godfather was recently released from Azkaban, sir. I know he's still at Saint Mungo's, but once he is recovered, he would take over my guardianship, wouldn't he?"

"He could at that." Fitzpatrick looked thoughtful. "He could indeed, if the healers give him their blessing." he looked back at Harry. "That's not going to be an option this summer, I believe. But we'll work on that for you as we move forward."

Harry nodded, he had expected that. "I plan to spend some time at the Burrow this summer, and maybe at Longbottom Hall."

"As long as your relatives give their approval, and you let me know where to find you, that's fine." said Fitzpatrick. "The floo is set up to track who comes and goes, and where they come from or go to."

"So, I can come and go as I please, except that I have to live here for the summer, and the entire house is set up to protect me in case my legal guardians decide to harm me?" Harry had sighed at that point. Looking down at the cabinet in his nightstand, he got curious and opened it. It was what appeared to be a refrigerator, with cold sodas and bottles of water inside. Handy, he thought.

"Unfortunately, yes, that's about it." Fitzpatrick had sighed as well. "I know it's not the best situation, but it's the best we can do within the restrictions placed on us."

Harry had been unconvinced, but polite as they chatted for a few more minutes. When Fitzpatrick left, Harry found that Petunia had cooked dinner, and had even prepared him a plate.

Vernon, Petunia, and Harry had eaten in relative silence, that night, Dudley being out at a friend's house. Harry could honestly say that it was the best meal he had ever eaten in that house, which says not much about that meal and quite a lot about the previous ones. But he was allowed to eat his fill, which surprised him. Petunia even cleared away the dishes.

Vernon sat down in the living room and turned on a football game, while Petunia quietly did dishes. Harry sat at the table, looking from one to the other, wondering exactly what had just happened.

oOoOoOoOo

Those first two weeks were a study in contrasts.

The Dursleys left him alone, for the most part. He did not press them to use the floo, or to call Hermione (though Fitzpatrick had kindly installed a second phone in his room). Nor did he spend any time with Dudley, though he noticed that his cousin was much less inclined to interact with him at all. It was less "freak" and more "kid I know from somewhere but don't want to talk to", which suited Harry just fine. Petunia would fix him a plate for dinner, which he would mostly (but not always) eat at the table.

He also noticed that she had started purchasing more breads and sandwich meats, as he would usually find himself on his own for lunch. Given their history, he had no idea how she knew what sorts of sandwiches he liked, but he was grateful for the gesture.

During the day, he would walk the neighborhood. Sometimes he would walk to the library, as he had done over the years before Hogwarts. It was nice, he thought, not having to evade Dudley or his gang.

In the evenings, he would either do homework or meditate. Every few nights, his meditation turned into an extended conference of the five, where they would compare notes on the Dursleys or talk about the fun they were having. Spellforged wanted them to meditate so that he could try to teach them some simple goblin spells, which would be difficult. It's hard enough to teach wand movements when you can see your student, but to describe hand gestures and the wandless magic used by the goblins? Spellforged was up to the challenge, but the others were dubious.

It was very slow going, and none of them made any progress. Seeker enjoyed the conferences, as he always had, even if they didn't produce much in the way of results, and Spellforged agreed to continue the lessons as long as the five were interested.

One topic that did translate to the link was the Goblin language. No one wanted to spend the summer becoming fluent, though Spellforged recommended it. An impression of Rose's eye roll at that comment somehow made it into the link, giving them all a laugh - perhaps the meditation was having an impact, after all. They did, ultimately, consent to learning a few key phrases.

Chaser innocently asked why Spellforged did not refer to the language as Gobbledegook, as most wizards did. Spellforged replied, quietly, that Chaser should refer to Chinese as "that ching chong language" and see how a Chinese person reacts. That settled that.

oOoOoOoOo

It was the first Saturday in July when Seeker found himself eating a sandwich and drinking a soda on the couch, watching a football game with Uncle Vernon.

That circumstance itself was surreal, but the fact that Vernon had invited him? Utterly bizarre.

The first half had just ended when Vernon spoke, quietly. And for Vernon, doing anything quietly had been quite a trick.

"I want to hate you, Harry." He said, and Harry grew very still. "I feel like I'm supposed to hate you, but it's like a reflex, like a habit." Vernon's eyes stayed on the television, as the talking heads showed scores and tables from around the league. "Part of me wants very much to hate you, but I can't."

"I appreciate it, sir." Harry said, not knowing how else to respond.

"I know, and that kills me." Vernon closed his eyes. "I would go to work and feel like a weight came off of my shoulders, you know? I'd put on a hard hat and walk the production floor, talking to my managers and making sure everything was moving along the line." He chuckled to himself. "I like to think people respect me as a boss, that they know that I will help them do their jobs if I can. I enjoy it, the manufacturing business, the tooling."

"And then I come home, and everything feels wrong, and I just want to lash out." Vernon looked over at Harry. "And there you were. It felt like you were the problem. Like, I don't know…" He got a faraway look for a second, searching for the words. "It's like a part for the wrong machine. No matter how much you try, no matter how many times you hammer on it, that part will never ever fit." He gestured to Harry. "Except here we are, watching a game, talking. Suddenly it fits."

"Mister Fitzpatrick…" Harry began, but Vernon held up a hand.

"I know, he told us. Funny thing is, I hated Dumbledore too, for so long. Here I was, married two year with a toddler, an affordable house and a good job. Two cars, plenty of steaks in the icebox, you name it. We were comfortable. We were normal. And then I wake up one morning in November and find a baby on the front step." Vernon shook his head. "That old bastard, how dare he make decisions for my life?"

Harry watched Vernon's expression go from anger to pride to anger to regret, all in the span of a few seconds. He could see the argument going on in his Uncle's head. In years past, there would have been no argument - it would have stopped at the first "anger" and a fist would have been heading his way.

"And I feel myself getting so angry at it all, at all the wasted time. At all the ruined days with Dudley, you know? Half his life I've been…. Well, someone I'm not proud of." Vernon looked at Harry. "I feel like someday the anger is going to build up again and I'm going to explode. That scares the hell out of me, Harry." His voice had grown soft, almost vulnerable.

"Uncle Vernon, I mean," Harry paused, returning his uncle's look. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Harry, Mister Fitzpatrick said to have you call if you need anything. Well, I feel like I'm going to go insane if I don't do something about this. I need help, Harry."

"What?" If the conversation before this was bizarre, this was insanity.

"My house used magic to poison my mind for a decade. What Doctor will be able to fix that? What headshrinker will understand? He said your lot have their own doctors?" Harry nodded. "Good, I need to talk to one."

oOoOoOoOo

Rose was shocked, when Seeker relayed his account of Vernon's request. "He said what?"

"I know," replied Seeker. "That was my reaction as well. But Fitzpatrick is sending someone to Vernon's office for a 'working lunch' that will actually be some sort of counseling. So we'll see."

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Marigold.

"How did your chat with Petunia go?" Chaser asked.

Marigold huffed. Her Petunia had talked to her after dinner, a few nights prior. She apologized for taking her issues with her sister out on her niece. Where Vernon had had his anger problems magnified, it was always Petunia that said the most hurtful things to Marigold. Her words had been cutting and brutal, and they had stayed with Marigold for years. To have the woman apologize, unprompted, was nothing short of miraculous.

She had not seemed to be confused as Vernon had been. And her apology could easily be more for getting caught at being bad guardians, as opposed to actually being bad guardians. It seemed like a good sign to Seeker, but Marigold remained unconvinced.

If Vernon reached out to her with his own cry for help, as Seeker's had, then she would contact Mister Fitzpatrick and get the ball rolling. But she would not make the first move; they had not earned that, she said.

oOoOoOoOo

Rose had kept to herself, mostly, spending more time in her now-luxurious green and silver-trimmed room. She had her own subjects to study, after all, beyond her homework and the time she was spending with the link.

She had not yet given Vernon or Petunia an opening to apologize for their conduct, and she cared not whether that apology ended up being genuine (as seeker believed) or forced (as Marigold was convinced it had been). In fact, it had been Dudley who asked her to give him another chance at being a decent cousin.

Their issues in muggle school were still too raw to her, the memories of "Rose hunting" were too fresh. He was making an effort, however, and it would cause unneeded friction in the house if she rejected him. So she said she would try, and he nodded and walked off, and that had been that.

Part of her thought the Dursleys were getting off easy for their treatment of her and her siblings over the years. Part of her very much wanted to see them stuffed into the cupboard. Apart from her stuff, there was little here that would be missed if she just burned the whole house down. No one messes with Rose Potter, thank you very much. But that would be a Gryffindor move, not a Slytherin one.

Idly, she wondered if Seeker and Marigold had considered that option. Both later confirmed that they had indeed, which amused her greatly.

It was Spellforged who talked her down a bit. He compared the situation with the Dursleys to the death eaters who claimed that they were under the imperius curse after the first war. It was a comparison Rose had not considered.

The difference, of course, is that here they actually were being controlled. Indirectly, and by wards aimed at their household, but controlled nonetheless. The fact that there was no obvious malice behind Dumbledore's wards doesn't change the impact they had on the family. And that impact has to be dealt with - as Seeker saw with Vernon and his regret, or Marigold with her Petunia and her guilt.

"You can tell the real imperius victims by how they react afterwards. If some mad wizard made you kill a room full of people, and you wake up covered in blood? Justify it all you want, but you're still horrified at what you did. You still feel that sorrow, that grief. And after the first war, there were suicides a plenty - people were actually under the imperius, and couldn't live with what they had done."

Spellforged continued, and Rose could tell he was in lecture mode. He'd end up a professor someday, she thought. "The real death eaters? The true believers? Not one word of sorrow about the vast crimes they committed in the name of the Dark Lord. Just donations to charity, or to the ministry. No reparations to victims, no aid to the orphans, nothing."

So the fact that the Dursleys were dealing with the situation somewhat poorly? "They're being genuine, it sounds like." was Spellforged's verdict.

"Fitzpatrick thinks Sirius as a guardian is possible, if he gets a clean bill of health." said Rose. "Maybe this is a short-term situation." I hope so.

"I've spoken to my version of Mister Fitzpatrick a few times, he works closely with Foecleaver. Seems to do a good job." Spellforged mused. "If anyone can get that done, it'd be him."

Maybe next year I'll get out of here. Rose hoped. Maybe.


A/N: And here we meet the new Dursleys. Some quick notes on this, because I know it will not be what some readers expect. Remember, first, that these three are a lot more worried about heading back than Harry in canon; he plans to use the threat of magic to keep them at bay. And while it may seem like they are just accepting that these are their relatives now and living with it, all three are very much trying to keep their heads down and not risk causing any tension whatsoever. They were told to stay there for a few weeks, and those few weeks end shortly, so distance will make things even better between the Potters and the Dursleys.

But not entirely. It's a long summer.

Half of why the Dursleys get this treatment is to make the Imperius comparison, which will itself be relevant later. Hell, you have people who end up in car accidents through no fault of their own who contemplate suicide out of their guilt. To wake up at the end of the war and find out that you caused the deaths of your friends? That lone witch in the Floo office, who got imperiused and shut down the floo during attacks? Yeah, either she shrugs and says "not my fault" or she finds a way to live with it, through therapy or other means. Or she doesn't.

(Not to suggest that the Dursleys were under the equivalent of the imperius. Far from it. More on that later.)

Feedback, as always, is welcome.

A/N 2: Edited for clarity at the end, where Spellforged discussed Mister Fitzpatrick. Thank you to Renata MM for the quick catch.