Posted 4-March-2022

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it all belongs to JKR. Whatever complaints about her you have, you can't deny she's created one amazing world with this.

Chapter One

The Letter

Cottage View, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England

30th June 2015

The last thing Azalea Potter expected, nearly seventeen years after the last time she laid eyes on the Dursley family, was a letter from her cousin Dudley. It was a normal day. Lea was Head Healer for the Janus Thickey Ward, but she also took two days a week off for researching, and that day was one of them. She was in her potions lab in the basement, hair piled up on top of her head, wearing a white lab coat, dragonhide gloves and goggles, all covered in protection spells, observing as her potion changed from light blue to an almost pinkish colour with each stir she gave.

Ideally, the potion would cure lycanthropy completely. It was her long-time dream, ever since she was thirteen and discovered one of her father's best friends was a werewolf, and the pain and prejudice he'd been forced to deal with because of his affliction. She'd started researching back then, but things had fallen to the wayside with the War, mourning Fred and everyone else she lost, raising Teddy and then later her other children, and so on. It was only after Lily turned three and she went back to work full-time that she was able to get down to properly working on her goal. So far she had managed to create a potion that eased the agony of transforming and helped cure the pain before and after, as well as pushing through a law to make the Wolfsbane Potion mandatory for all werewolves and for it to be provided free of charge by St. Mungo's, but she hadn't yet landed on the exact combination of ingredients to actually cure the disease.

A loud yell from upstairs caught her attention and she looked up, frowning unhappily. Another yell confirmed her suspicions that her daughter was not happy. Lea sighed and cast a Stasis Charm over the potion, hastily scribbling down how many stirs she'd done and the effects, before crossing over to the door, pulling off her lab gear and undoing the spells the kept the door from opening, a necessary precaution to prevent her children coming in and messing around with her work.

They were so like their father and uncle.

She arrived in the kitchen where the yelling was coming from and took in the scene. Her eleven-year-old sons, James and Freddie were hiding grins as their seven-year-old sister, Lily, yelled at them, her face a bright red and her typically red hair now bright green. Nine-year-old Regulus, Lea's fourth son (third genetically, but she had raised Teddy since he was an infant and considered him her own) watching warily as he clutched his copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' to his chest.

Having ascertained the situation, Lea acted. Only Reg had noticed her so far and he quickly stepped backwards into the corner, out of the line of fire. Knowing that her quiet, bookworm baby boy was no prankster and had no connection to this mess, Lea allowed it. She cast a 'Sonorous Charm' on herself and snapped out, "James Sirius Potter, Frederick Remus Black-Potter! What on Catana's green earth did you two do to your sister?!"

The identical black-haired, blue-eyed boys paled, their freckles standing out starkly against their deep olive skin.

Lily smirked, her green eyes dancing with satisfaction and triumph.

Lea rolled her eyes, having no doubt her daughter enjoyed getting her brothers in trouble.

The boys were sent to the sitting room under monitoring spells to ensure that they read their two assigned chapters of their mother's old copies of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' (in James' case, as it was his least favourite subject, though he did love his Uncle Neville dearly) and 'Magical Theory' (in Freddie's case, it was the same situation. He found theory stuff boring, preferring to focus on the practical) books in silence and they were banned from flying for a week, much to their dismay. Assigning readings from books they didn't want to pre-read doubled as a punishment and a way for Lea to ensure they had at least gone through the books once before school started in September. Given how troublesome her boys were, she fully expected them to have gone through the books at least twice more by then. They'd be well-prepared for Hogwarts in the fall. Lily's hair was sorted out with a wave of the harried mother's wand and, seeing as she was upstairs already anyway, Lea took the opportunity to prepare soup and sandwiches for lunch.

She was just calling the children in to eat when she heard a familiar tapping at the window. She flicked her wand at the latch and opened it, allowing the tawny owl to swoop in and head for the perch with its ever-present water and owl treats. Oddly, the letter was in its' mouth rather than tied to its leg, and Lea thought it looked more like paper than parchment, strangely enough. The kids came running in, the twins in the lead, no doubt eager for a break from their studying.

"Who's the letter from, Mum?" Freddie asked as the blue-eyed boy took his seat and grabbed his sandwich. He furrowed his brow when he saw the colour of the soup. "Is this tomato? Mu-um, you know I don't like tomato!"

"You'll eat what's put in front of you and be happy about it," Lea replied sternly as she accepted the letter with a soft thanks and a gentle pet for the owl. Honestly, Freddie was the pickiest child in the family, and Lea had no clue why. They had exposed their children to a wide variety of foods throughout the childhood, but Freddie had a small, select group that he'd eat and many a tantrum had been thrown over him being offered something outside of that group. Not that they gave into said tantrums, but they were thrown. "There're hundreds of thousands of children around the world who-" she paused, having flipped the (indeed paper, and with a stamp of all things!) envelope over and seen the return address.

"Mummy?" Reggie piped up. "Are you okay?" Lea absently ruffled his dark hair, ignoring his huff and futile attempt to flatten the rat's nest. The poor boy had inherited her father's hair, meaning it wasn't just dark, but eternally stuck up at the back of his head. Lea had tried many different ways to get it to stay flat, but only Sleekeazy's Hair Potion (invented by her grandfather, Charlus Fleamont Potter specifically for the Potter hair) worked, and that was too expensive and awkward to make to bother with save for special occasions.

"Mummy's fine, my love," Lea said distractedly as she began making her way to the door. "I need to go and read this in my study. I expect everyone to have finished eating and tidied up when I'm done. Boys, go right back to those books as soon as you're done, understood? I'll know if you don't."

"Yes Mum," they droned sullenly, though she could feel the three curious looks drilling into her back. Lily, thank the Gods, was too distracted carefully dunking her sandwich into her soup to care about her mother's strange actions. Lea never missed a meal with her family when she was at home.

Lea hastily made her way to her study and shut and locked the door behind her, before sinking into her soft swivel chair. It was a Muggle chair, but Lea had Transfigured it into a Ravenclaw blue and added a few spells to make it extra soft, resistant to damage among other things. She sank into with a sigh, eyeing the letter like it was a snake.

It was addressed to Ms. Azalea Potter, with no other details save the address on the back. Mr. Dudley Dursley, 44 Primrose Avenue, Greater Whinging, Surrey.

Dudley Dursley.

The last time she saw any Dursley was the week before her seventeenth birthday, when she'd appeared at Privet Drive, Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle in tow, and 'persuaded', a.k.a insisted, the three (her uncle arguing furiously, purple with rage, as Hestia went around shrinking and packing their things magically) go into hiding for the duration of the war. Before that, she hadn't seen them since she left a day before Marge arrived for a visit, back when she was thirteen. They had made a deal that Petunia would sign her Hogsmeade permission slip in exchange for her leaving before Marge arrived and staying gone until the next summer. As it turned out, she had never gone back save for that one exception.

That year she had met Sirius and helped him be declared innocent and gain custody of her, and lived with him until his death when Snape (may he rot in the fires of hell. Spy or not, he had gone too far in 'keeping his cover'. Dumbledore wasn't the only person dead at his hands in the name of 'fooling' Voldemort) let Death Eaters into Grimmauld Place the same day that the Ministry fell in the Battle of London (later disguised as a major bombing by terrorists, though it was changed from the Order being the terrorists to the Death Eaters when the Light regained control). Twenty people, counting five Death Eaters, Sirius and Mad-Eye, along with four other Order members Lea hadn't really known had died. The other fatalities were Muggle residents of the neighbourhood who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dudley had been, different, that day, Lea mused. He'd apologized to her, sort of. And he'd lost weight, a lot of it, though he'd still been heavyset. But still, they'd had no contact for the best part of twenty years, and she'd had no interest in changing that. Based on their lack of contact, she had assumed it was the same for Dudley.

So why now? What had caused him to reach out after so many years?

Well, she would only gain answers by reading the letter, so reading the letter was what she had to do. Still, it was with great reluctance that she opened enveloped and tugged out the folded lined page within, flipping it open and scanning it, her eyebrow going up higher and higher with every word. Were anyone in the room with her, they would have watched as her expression turned stunned and bewildered.

Greater Whinging,

Surrey

30th June 2015

Dear Azalea,

I hope you're well. Hestia and Dedalus said that you won your war and defeated the dark wizard who killed your parents. I'm glad for you. I hope you're living as happy a life as I am.

Now for why I've reached out so suddenly. Thirteen years ago, I married the love of my life, Laura McCauley. We have two children. Jasmine, who turned 11 three weeks ago (I always call her the best birthday gift I've ever gotten), and our son, Matthew, who's eight. Jas is why I'm writing.

She's a witch. The letter came earlier today. I don't know what to do, Azalea. Laura is torn between thinking it's all a sick joke or that I've lost my mind, telling them all that our daughter is magic and that my aunt and cousin were witches. Jas is hysterical. You know what Mum and Dad are like, they've never made a secret of their disgust for anything 'abnormal' and they always talk down about magical beings in movies and books. She's convinced being a witch makes her evil and I don't know how to help her.

And then there's the list! I've never seen any books titled 'Standard Book of Spells, Grade whatever' in the shop! And they want her to bring robes and a pointed hat and the like! Where are we supposed to buy it all? I know Dedalus mentioned some Wixen (Wixen is the correct term, isn't it? I don't want to insult anybody, especially now that Jas has turned out to be magical too.) place for shopping, Diagonally? But I have absolutely no clue how to get there, and I don't know if any of us except Jas would even be able to get in, given she's the only magical one out of us all. I don't want to send her off to a shopping mall or whatever it is on her own, she's way too young for that.

Please, Azalea. I'm sure you have no love for me, and I don't blame you for it. I was terrible to you when we were kids. It's no wonder you left the first time someone offered you another option. In your position, I don't think I would have been good enough to offer shelter and protection to my abusers on the off chance they were targeted by my other enemies.

But my daughter is innocent. You're a good person, Azalea. Better than I've ever been. I have no doubt that you'll help.

Just answer quickly. Please.

Kind regards and best wishes,
Your cousin,

Dudley

Lea was shocked. Never in a million years would she had expected a Dursley to be a witch. It seemed utterly absurd, but it was right there in black and white. Her little cousin was a witch, and apparently their whole household was on its' head from the news. She set down the letter, tapping it with a finger as she brooded over what to do. On the one hand, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Dursleys. On the other, there was a little girl suffering and Lea could help her. Besides that, Lea knew that, regardless of what he had said in the letter, she would worry over Jasmine constantly until she saw with her own eyes that the girl wasn't suffering like Lea had suffered.

Sighing, Lea pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled a short note to Dudley on it.

Crescent View,

Hallows Lane,

Godric's Hollow

30th June 2015

Dear Dudley,

I'm pleased to hear you're doing well. I am well myself, yes, as are my children and husband. I will of course help you. Expect me at your home at quarter past seven this evening. Write back immediately with a preferable evening should this not suit, otherwise, there is no need to respond and I will see you this evening at seven fifteen.

Yours sincerely,

AHP

Having scribbled out the short note, Lea went to the kitchen where her kids were tidying up. The family owl, a beautiful grey owl named Minerva (technically for the Roman goddess, but George had split himself laughing when she picked it and liked to claim it was in honour of their old Transfiguration teacher), was on her perch, sipping daintily at her water.

"Minerva, I have a letter for you," she informed the owl, who ceased her drinking and straightened up, hooting as she stuck out her talon for Lea to tie the envelope on. "I need it to arrive as soon as possible, dear," Lea told her pet, stroking her feathers gently. "Hurry, ok?"

Minerva hooted again, puffing out her chest in reassurance of her ability to carry any and all mail quickly to its' recipient before launching herself from the open window and soaring out into the sky.

"Mummy, what's going on?" Reg asked, coming over and wrapping his thin, sun-kissed arms around her waist. She rested a hand on his head and ran her hand through his hair gently.

"Nothing, my love," she promised. "I just have to meet an old-an old acquaintance this evening. He sent me a letter asking for help with something, that's all."

"Okay," her youngest boy said doubtfully, peering up at her with a shrewd look in his emerald eyes. Of all her children, Reg was most like her, in features (though his skin was lighter than her own) and mind. He was a clever and empathetic young boy. No doubt he had detected some of her unease.

"I love you, Mummy," her baby boy added, causing her to smile adoringly at him and kiss his forehead.

"I love you too, darling," she replied, letting the happy memories of her life with her loving family overcome the darker ones of loud yelling, hits and cold cupboards with an empty, growling stomach.