Chapter three: Potters incognito.
Sirius had been right about the less than welcoming aspect of the Dursley's, James mused as he sat beside Lily on the floral and uncomfortable couch. They were glaring at the Headmaster, shifting in their seats uneasily and protesting that they hadn't done anything wrong from the moment Dumbledore arrived. The house was too warm - the scorching summer sun had once again browned the grass and wilted the gardens, and the pictures of his nephew Dudley on the wall were disconcerting to say the least. He was really hoping that his own son hadn't emulated his cousins' example. As a baby Harry had been a little chubby, but he'd always been very active and up for anything. Lily had never appeared worried about his weight or healthy appetite, and the sixteen month old toddler that had chased him around the house shouting 'dad' and turning his hair green was certainly not slothful. He was also gone, stolen from them by time and the Dark Lord, which was just one more reason on the ever-growing list to exterminate the foul Wizard.
It was obvious that Vernon had done well for himself over the years, and Dudley was following in his fathers' girth. Petunia had been almost unrecognisable, her bony figure and pinched face very different from the slender girl she'd been at their wedding. She was glaring at them as if they'd just tracked dragon dung into her sterile house, and James made a mental note to try that sometime, provided he could get his hands on some. He wondered how on earth Harry had managed to cultivate any kind of magical ability, living in uncomfortable Muggle sterility, rather than the comfortable friendly chaos that magic thrived upon. At his side, Lily was vibrating like a tuning fork. Ever since they'd recovered their memories of each other and Harry, their one goal had been to get to their sons side. Now that they were mere seconds away from doing so the tension was almost unbearable.
Vernon Dursley finally stopped spluttering protests, and Petunia seemed to have given in to Dumbledore's demands. The old Wizard was more than a match for these Muggles, and James was not surprised that they hadn't been able to counter his arguments. Wulfric and Beth would be installed in the spare room and watch over Harry for the last fortnight of his visit.
"Harry Potter!" Vernon roared without getting up from his seat. There was a soft noise from upstairs and then the stair creaked as someone descended. The door opened and James was tempted to hold his breath as tightly as Lily was holding his hand. They both gasped in shock as their baby appeared, as did Dumbledore. No matter what they had been expecting, this was not it. The teen that stepped through the door was painfully thin, deathly pale and sleep deprived. The clothes that hung from his frame were far too large to have been his even when they were new. The only sign that he was James and Lily's son lay in his untameable black hair, and the vivid green eyes that were his mothers' legacy.
"This is what you call doing nothing?" Lily spat in horror at her sister, and James realised that Petunia had meant it literally. His sister in law had done nothing to stop Harry from getting himself into such a state. Merlin only knew when the boy in front of him had last eaten a decent meal, let alone slept well.
"My Aunt has provided me with a home and food," Harry's voice cut through the shouts like a whiplash, "She is not the cause of my…discomfort."
There was silence, and Harry turned very cynical eyes on the Headmaster. James cringed at the knowledge in that look and wondered how the hell Dumbledore had managed to sell them on such a simplistic reunion scenario. The Headmaster looked a little daunted himself, something that James had never thought he'd see, but rallied to the challenge as always.
"If your discomfort is so great, then perhaps your lessons with your Potions Master should resume," there was a wealth of unspoken words there, and Harry's lips twisted in a parody of a smile.
"Perhaps," the word hung in the air for a moment and he turned his attention to his disguised parents, sitting on the couch.
"Harry, this is Wulfric and Beth. They are members of the Order and will be staying with you until you can travel to Headquarters," Dumbledore's introduction was plain, and Harry nodded politely in their direction, "I am pleased to inform you that your Quidditch ban has been lifted, and that your OWL results will arrive in due time."
"Thank you sir," Harry said politely, his face a neutral mask, "That is good news."
James couldn't tell if Harry was telling the truth or not, but either way, he wasn't about to challenge the cold stranger in front of him. His little boy had been warm and affectionate, and just starting to assert his independence when they'd all been attacked. Whatever was causing his discomfort now - a euphemism that James hated already - evidently was affecting his behaviour as well.
"Shall I show them up to the guest room Aunt Petunia?" Harry turned to look at his Aunt, who nodded stiffly, her eyes looking through him as if he wasn't there. Lily got to her feet, and James rose with her, his hand still fastened in hers. That got him a curious look from his son, but the teen merely turned and led the way out of the room.
There was a snowy white owl sitting at the top of the stairs, and Harry offered an arm for her to perch on. He accepted the note she held in her beak, and pocketed it without glancing at it. James suspicions were raised and then confirmed by Harry's next words.
"It's alright Hedwig. Beth and Wulfric are in the Order."
So the note had been a call for help, and the owl had waited at the top of the stairs in order to hear his shouted command. James was impressed with his sons' resourcefulness and planning. Dumbledore had said that Harry was well aware of the danger of Death Eater attacks and quite skilled at Defence. James hadn't realised that those skills were applied even in his Aunts home. Did the boy ever have time to relax and be a normal careless teen, or was he constantly on the edge, living on his nerves? These questions joined the thousands of others swirling in James brain as they passed a room full of toys, gadgets and clothes, then a closed door with a lot of locks and a cat flap. The door opposite opened onto a small yet lavishly decorated spare room, with a double bed and small window. Harry stood aside to let them in, and then entered himself closing the door and raking them with a stare that had them speechless.
"I assume that you're familiar with Muggle living, or Dumbledore wouldn't have put you here. The Dursley's are afraid of magic, and any mention or use of it is forbidden by their rules. That is something I expect you to respect while you are under their roof. The last thing I need is to play referee between your world and theirs. Please make yourselves comfortable. My room is the one with all the locks on it. I'll be there if you require anything."
Hedwig hooted at them once and Harry's mouth curled in a lopsided smile before he stepped out once more and shut the door softly behind them. Lily hit it with a privacy spell before throwing herself into James arms and sobbing softly in shock. He buried his face in his wife's hair and let his own tears fall. Their happy baby boy was unrecognisable in this implacable stranger.
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The next fortnight was difficult. The Dursley's were not subtle about their resentment of Lily and James presence, and Dudley clearly proved by his less than intelligent selfish behaviour that he didn't understand the first thing about the whole situation. It had taken every scrap of self-control for James not to hex the Muggles as hard as he could.
It was obvious from the miscues and awkward silences that the Dursley's were restraining themselves from giving Harry a hard time. His son helped out in the kitchen or with the cleaning duties without direction, which was more than Dudley did. Lily voiced the opinion that Harry was merely following some sort of old and well established routine and after few hours of scrutiny, James could see it too. His son was very methodical in his cleaning, working to a pattern that had been long ingrained.
When not working for his Aunt, Harry was in his room, reading through book after book and making copious notes. He had obviously inherited Lily's brains, something that she was proud of. However, the fact that Harry's room was so small and airless was only adding to the teen's pallor. James and Lily ended up dragging him out to sit in the backyard for his reading. They sat close by, and watched as Harry lost himself in his project. When they'd offered to help with whatever he was working on he'd politely refused.
It was at night, however, that the real problems arose. Harry had nightmares, ones that caused him to wake the household with his screams and cries. Sometimes he laughed in his sleep, a high-pitched deranged noise that was worse than his cries for mercy. Twice he burst from his room to run for the loo, retching and heaving until he was empty. Lily had tried to help, to mother him a little, but each attempt was politely brushed aside. Harry would escort them both from his room - there was no way that James was going to let Lily deal with the stubbornness of their son alone - and retreat to deal with the aftermaths by himself. They knew for a fact that he didn't go back to sleep, as they once stood outside his door for a night, while the light burned inside and pages rustled.
Hedwig was another enigma. Harry spoke to her as if she was a Human, and often she seemed to reply with hoots, coos and gestures. She was often found on his shoulder or knee and she had the tendency to glare at them if they got too close. The owl was very possessive of her human and Harry seemed to appreciate the attention she lavished on him. It twisted James' heart that his son would rather turn to his pet than to his relatives or 'bodyguards' for company and comfort.
Four days into their sojourn with Harry, Lily had enough of looking at the ill-fitting clothes and dragged their bewildered charge and James to the nearest shopping centre. She and James had both insisted that he choose at least five completely new outfits, and then Lily added to the confusion by insisting that he try everything on. It was painfully obvious that Harry had never chosen new Muggle clothes for himself, though James was proud to say that his son had an innate sense of style. He chose clothes that looked good, would allow for growth and would last well. James also noticed that they were made of hard wearing materials. He wondered why that was.
The Dursley's were clearly Not Happy about Harry's new wardrobe and immediately took Dudley out on a shopping spree, returning with ten times what Harry had allowed Lily to pressure him in to buying, with a lot of expensive label brand clothes. Harry obviously didn't care, and Dudley's needling on the subject eventually tapered off. His whale of a cousin was not the most subtle nor bright of people but even he knew better than to escalate into physical goads when Harry had two very vigilant bodyguards.
By the end of the fortnight they were more than ready to go back to Grimmauld place. Harry was a little less standoffish. He'd never been rude to either of his guards; in fact he'd made a point of being particularly polite to them. He'd played the part of host with a maturity that James hadn't had at sixteen, and now and then he'd put aside his reserve enough to talk quietly with them about Quidditch or various spells he'd learned. In those short chats Lily and James caught a glimpse of the real Harry - an extremely shy teen that was grappling with the world and his place in it.
They port keyed to Grimmauld place, appearing in a narrow lane close by and walking to Sirius' house. Harry was painfully eager to be there, though he was too polite to brush aside their guardianship of him. The peeling front door opened for him at a touch and Harry hurried in, putting his trunk carefully to one side and hurrying down the murky hall towards the kitchen. As they had yet to tell him their true identity, Lily and James hurried after, intending to pull him aside before Sirius or Remus could talk to him.
The kitchen was full of red headed people, and Harry greeted the lanky teen leaning against the table eating an apple first.
"Ron!" there was genuine warmth in Harry's voice, and his call soon had him enveloped in a round of hugs and questions. Lily and James quickly joined a name to each person in the kitchen - the twins Fred and George, Ron and his sister Ginny, and their mother Mrs Weasley. It was the latter than noticed the two of them standing in the doorway, and she turned to Harry with a smile while her twin sons ruffled Harry's hair.
"Who's this?" she asked and Harry looked back over his shoulder at them, before turning to answer. The change in his demeanour was incredible. The polite, reserved host of the past fortnight was gone, replaced by a happy teenager, being welcomed into his family's embrace. Molly Weasley had fussed over him as a mother might, and Harry had leaned into her touch, his eyes bright, a very marked contrast to his response to Lily's attempts to mother him.
"Beth and Wulfric. They're the Order members that got stuck with baby sitting me for the last fortnight," the reply was not intended to be cruel, and if they'd been the random strangers that Harry thought they were it wouldn't have bothered them. The Weasley's reactions were not as positive, however, and Mrs Weasley made it clear with her derisive sniff that she didn't think they'd done enough. Harry hadn't lost any further weight and had some colour in his cheeks, but he was still looking rather sickly, especially compared to the lanky Weasley teens. He was barely taller than the daughter, something that he'd already been teased about.
"Are they responsible for the new clothes?" Ginny tugged at the sleeve of the dark red t-shirt he was wearing and Harry nodded.
"You look very smart, dear," Mrs Weasley bussed him on the cheek, "Lunch will be ready in a moment, and then Sirius will be getting up."
"He's allowed out of bed?" Harry's eager tone made everyone smile, "I haven't been able to write to him because of the blackout that Dumbledore enforced."
"He gets up after lunch and goes to bed after dinner," Ron confirmed, "Professor Lupin is probably with him at the moment."
"Before you have lunch, Harry, we need to talk," James took the opportunity to interject. Sirius would undoubtedly keep his promise about telling Harry the truth the moment he saw him, and if they were to avoid a worse scene than was necessary, then it was best to get it over with now. Wondering why it was that he felt so nervous, James led the way to the study on the second floor with Harry behind him and Lily bringing up the rear.
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