Chapter One
Great Things
10 years later…
Petunia wasn't even remotely surprised to see the letter in the post. She'd been watching for it since Harry's tenth birthday. She frowned at the address and thought (not for the first time) that the Magical World's collective sense of humor left something to be desired.
The letter was written on creamy vellum in green ink and addressed to Mr. Harry Potter at Number Four Privet Drive, The Second Bedroom, Asleep on the Desk.
She made a mental note to have Harry carry a note to the Headmaster of the school when the term started letting him know how she felt about such distasteful jokes. She was well aware that They probably knew everything going on in her house and the constant location of her nephew, but rubbing her nose in it went beyond the bounds of good taste.
'Perhaps there are other schools.' She thought to herself as she kicked the front door shut behind her and made her way into the kitchen. Dudley was at the table watching his cousin stand at the stove with a rapt expression.
Harry was the only one of her boys who had any skill at cooking. Dudley's meals were passable, bachelor food really, but Harry had a certain natural flare for the art. At the moment he was watching a pancake bubble in the pan while he counted softly under his breath. Petunia peeked over his shoulder. "It should be fine, dear. You don't have to count to exactly sixty seconds. Once all the bubbles pop on top and stay open it should be just fine." She laid the letter on the counter by his elbow. "Mail for you dear… are those blueberries?"
The smaller boy grinned sheepishly. "I asked Dudley what he wanted for his birthday and he said blueberry pancakes."
Petunia turned a basilisk eye on her son. "You may have two and don't let me catch you complaining when you give yourself a belly ache. You know they upset your stomach." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "You didn't ask…"
"Not when Harry makes 'em." Dudley countered. "It's my birthday! I only wanted two anyway." He grinned.
"Oh, you boys…" Petunia sighed. "All right, since it's your birthday I will allow it. HOWEVER, don't let me catch you making your cousin change your food around again. You, young man, are on a diet…" She paused for effect. "… or do you want to be the one who has to explain to your father why you're out of the weight requirements for the Junior Wrestling Team when you get into Smeltings?"
"Ruddy Wrestling team…" Dudley muttered. Then his attention reverted sharply back to his cousin. "Oi, Harry! What's in the letter? Are you going to open it or not? It's not going to get up and read itself!"
"Maybe it will." Harry replied in the tone, which he knew drove his more impatient cousin bats as he flipped the pancake and nudged it around in the pan. "So you want bacon with these or the fruit medley?"
"Gaaaah… medley, then. The rashers don't taste right with fruit." Dudley eyed the letter. "I bet it's another school. You didn't apply to Smeltings even though they offered you a scholarship! So where are you gonna go then? If you say 'Stonewall' again you're gonna be wearing these pancakes."
"Harry is going to go to his mother's Alma Mater, Duddy." Petunia replied as she eyed the note. She recognized it, all right. It was just like the one Lily had gotten. Part of her was nervous, but the other part was excited. When Lily had gotten her letter, their parents had taken her out alone and hadn't spoken about where they got her school supplies. There was a part of Petunia that had been curious about that for over 20 years.
Harry eyed his aunt as he flipped the finished pancake onto a plate with its twin in misfortune and slid it in front of Dudley, who was already reaching for the sugar-free syrup. "Would you like some, aunt Petunia? I've still got some batter."
"I ate earlier, dear, but thank you. Put it to the side and I'll make it for your Uncle when he gets back from the shops." Dudley had inherited his abusive relationship with blueberries from his father. However, one of the bits of subconscious magic that Harry did was to remove whatever it was in the berries that irritated his relatives whenever he cooked. He had no idea how he did it, except that he did. "Now open up the letter before your cousin turns himself wrong-side-out."
"All right, I will." Harry switched off the oven as he took his seat at the table and idly thumbed the letter open. He pulled out the thick letter and unfolded it. A tiny crease of thought appeared in-between's Harry's eyes the way it usually would when he'd come across something unexpected. "Aunt Petunia, this letter says…"
Petunia gave into temptation and plucked the letter from her nephew's hands. "Dear Mister Potter, We are pleased to notify you that…. Hmmm.. yes… yes… that looks to be right." She ruffled Harry's mop with one hand while she folded it shut. "Your mother got a letter just like it. They're being serious. Remember the talk we had last Christmas?"
Harry nodded as he looked at the contents of the letter. "… but where do you even find dragon-hide gloves?" He asked in a small voice.
Dudley blinked and held out his hand for the letter. Harry handed it over and let his cousin read. The larger boy cocked an eyebrow at him. "Maybe they'll make you fight a dragon and skin it, Harry-head."
"Oh, that's fine then. I'll just feed you to it. That ought to kill it." Harry replied, clearly elsewhere. "I wonder what they mean by 'Transfiguration'? I know what the word means, but that can't be right…" He mused out loud.
"No, dear. You're right." Petunia corrected him. She took the letter back from Dudley and examined the envelope. Sure enough there was a ticket inside and directions to some place called 'Diagon Alley'. 'Diagonally' …again with the less-than-witty humor. "Wizards use magic to change one thing into something else. It was your mother's despair, she preferred charms."
"Does it stay like that, Mummy? I mean, forever?" Dudley ate in-between bites. A life with his cousin had made the fanciful commonplace to him and it would take more than the revelation that his cousin was going to go to a school for Wizards to make him miss out on his forbidden treat.
Petunia had to think on that one. "No, I don't think so dear. I think your Aunt told me that things usually revert back after a time. If I recall correctly then the method for permanently changing something was Transmutation, but it's a very advanced art and takes a lot of power. I think it's only taught at the University level after you've been recommended for it by a governmental board."
"Harry, you should learn to do that." Dudley was undeterred. "It'd be cool."
"Don't be silly, dear." Petunia corrected her son. "Your cousin is going to study to be a Healer. Although… it may be of use… do ask your teachers, Harry."
"So where will Harry get his school supplies, Mum?" Dudley paused for a draught of orange juice. "I want to see where they sell Wizard stuff!" Petunia had learned to know when her son was in the process of getting a Bad Idea, but for the life of her she couldn't see a way to head this one off. "Does the letter say? Let's go today, we can go see!"
"Not today, dear. Your guests are on the way and it's all the way out in London. We'll go Saturday." Petunia folded up the letter and handed it to Harry who folded it into his pocket. "Your father wouldn't want to be left behind and besides he has the car."
"Oh, that's right…" Dudley looked to Harry. "Well, that works out for you then. No Smeltings and their ruddy sticks for you!"
"Dudley! Language!" Petunia reproved.
"Sorry, mum." Dudley winced. "… but the first kid who uses their stick on me is gonna get it back in the eye." He added as an aside to Harry.
Harry took some of the fruit medley for himself without comment, but he did give his cousin a wink. Soon Pierce would be over and they'd go to the Zoo. Harry hadn't been since he was small since it was so far away and he usually had after school activities or homework to do. Plus, tutoring Dudley was a full time job on its own.
After breakfast, Harry went upstairs to tidy up his room and give Dudley a few minutes alone with his presents to figure out what they were.
Saturday came in its own sweet time.
By the time the weekend came around, Dudley was about to burst out of his skin in excitement. He'd grown up with his cousin's talents and constantly chafed against the restrictions his parents had placed on them. Sometime Harry suspected that Dudley was even more excited than he was.
Then again, Dudley was slated for Smeltings, a fate both boys had agreed to be somewhat lacking in the luster that Vernon ascribed to it. Dudley was rather phlegmatic in his own way and didn't mind going there if it made his dad happy. Having single-handedly badgered Dudley through primary school, Harry rather thought his cousin was an underachiever and that one school was as good as another in his eyes. It was good to see his cousin actually excited about something, although Dudley was a hazard when his blood was up.
Aunt Petunia ended up driving anyway after Uncle Vernon got called into work. They'd all received a rude awakening that morning when Vernon got that call. Harry was willing to swear that he saw the rafters shaking. As a consolation they both got some extra pocket money for the trip.
Upon arriving in London they stopped in a café to give Aunt Petunia some time to recover her composure. To say she hated driving long distances was putting it mildly, but a nice sit-down in a sidewalk café on a pretty seat with a plate of biscuits and a cup of tea did wonders for her mood. Soon they were able to forge ahead into London and track down 'Diagon Alley'.
Harry was the first one to spot the 'Leaky Cauldron'. His Aunt and Cousin walked right by it at first, but once he pointed it out they registered it. After a few moments of observation, Harry realized that most people seemed to pass it by without even giving it a glance. Now, considering that there was an old man in a bright pink overcoat and a giant hat decorated with a taxidermy cat sitting out in front blowing smoke circles that formed hearts, stars, and moons as they left his pipe… well, Harry was pretty sure that something else was going on.
"Mum, lookit that…" Dudley barely restrained himself from pointing as his mother ushered them inside.
On the inside 'The Leaky Cauldron' looked like about what you'd expect from any grubby London pub, somewhat grimy since so human being magical or otherwise could keep up with the mess, a little crowded, and full a comfortably boisterous customers. Harry could smell a faint touch of cabbage, although it was overpowered by the mingled scents of all-day stew, fry-ups, and sausage.
Aunt Petunia had her 'Expression' on as she looked over the décor so Dudley and Harry ushered her through before there could be any incident. The last time they'd missed her on the uptake she'd caused a fuss that got them banned from at least four restaurants in Little Whinging. While, to be honest, it was no great loss considering the restaurants neither Dudley nor Harry were in the mood to be part of a spectacle.
The letter has said something about the entrance to Diagon Alley being in the back of The Leaky Cauldron, but when they arrived in the alley behind the pub they found only a brick wall.
"Oh, bother." Aunt Petunia muttered. She laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You mother mentioned something about there being a trick to getting in, but I can't remember what it is for the life of me. We'll have to go get someone to let us in."
"Is it your first time through, ducks?" A small old woman stuck her head out through the back door.
Harry nodded and stepped aside as the old woman shuffled past him, leaning heavily on her cane. She paused and squinted at him. "I know who you are, Boy. You might want to cover up that scar unless you want to be the center of a scene." She turned to eye Harry's Aunt and Cousin. "You're muggles, aintcha?"
"I am not a witch, if that is what you are asking." Aunt Petunia's tone was mostly even, which was a feat. "Nor is my son. My nephew will be attending Hogwarts this year."
The old witch chuckled and nodded. "Muggles." She confirmed. "All right, I'll let you in today. Next time your nephew will have his wand so he'll be able to open the wall. Now, Harry, pay attention, you might need to remember this in a hurry one day."
As the old witch pulled a gnarled little rowan stick out from her sleeve, the rear door opened again to expel a young girl, about Harry's age with bushy brown hair. Her parents were not far behind. Harry realized she and her parents had the same sort of shell-shocked expression in their eyes that Aunt Petunia was sporting.
"Oh, more tots. Wonderful." The witch muttered, although her tone cast some doubt on how she felt about that. After a brief moment of scrutiny the witch turned to the brick wall and used her wand to tap a series of four bricks that were somewhat lighter than the rest of them, first left then right then top then bottom. Harry made a mental note of the pattern for future reference.
"Thank you, Miss…" Harry hung on the last word, realizing he didn't even know the witch's name.
"Miss Englebright, Augusta Englebright, and it were nothing, duckie." She reached up to pat Harry's cheek with a withered hand. "There's more than one of us who remember you and what you did. Stop by my table on your way out and I'll have some more advice for you. No offense, love, but you've got the look of a muggle-born about you and Old Augusta will see you flying straight." She looked over Harry's shoulder at the young girl. "You too, duck. If you have any questions see me or Old Tom behind the bar."
"Thank you." The girl had a lovely light soprano that was somewhat marred by her prominent front teeth and copious amounts of hair. She was in what Aunt Petunia called 'that awkward stage of being a girl'.
Harry held the 'door' as first his aunt, then his cousin, then the girl and her parents went through then he let it swing shut behind him. "What a young gentleman!" The girl's mother tittered as she passed and a slightly smug expression flickered over Aunt Petunia's face.
"I'm Hermione Granger." The girl thrust out a hand while peering at his face in excitement. "Did you get a letter too? Oh you did! I can see it in your pocket. Wonderful! I'm so excited. Did you know that you could do magic before?" She was prepared to launch into a volley of excited questions, but her mother reined her in with practiced ease.
"Don't be a pest, Mione-love, especially after he was so nice as to open the door for you." Mrs. Granger smiled at Harry and his Aunt. "Thank you for that, dear. I could see that was going to be a problem from the moment Mione opened the back door. Is this your first time here too?" She addressed her last question to Petunia, who nodded. "Well then, why not let's shop together? Two heads are better than one, or in this case six heads are better than three!"
Petunia cast a Glance on the surrounding area and nodded. "I think that might be wise." After a round of introductions, they set forth.
To say Diagon Alley was a daunting sight was to understate matters. The street was a veritable crush of colors, lights, texture, shapes, smells, and sensations. The individual components were all the same as a regular London street during a Faire. Shops stood open to the public draped in festive colors and fabrics on which they arranged their wares. Vendors stood on the streets hawking their wares, which ranged from Roasted Manticore Toes to authentic Wollycobbles straight from Wales.
The Grangers, the Dursleys, and one Potter forged on ahead into the fray, with Mr. Granger reading off Hermione's school list. "All right, first stop I think is wands. That is, unless you have any objections, Mrs. Dursley?"
"No, no." Petunia frowned at a grimy tot who presented a chain of something called a 'Fell-lolly' for only two 'knuts'. "Although, perhaps a bank… I think they use a different currency here." She had that funny little crease between her brows that she got when she was trying to remember something. "That's right. Lily used to be late for visits on occasion because she had to exchange money. I think they use coins instead of paper pounds."
After some asking around, the group finally found their way to the Wizard Bank, called Gringotts. After receiving something of a scare when they met their first goblin, they managed to get a run down of the conversion table and the style of wizarding cash. Petunia and the Grangers were also able to procure keys that would allow them into Diagon alley through the local branches of Gringotts until they were able to get their houses hooked up to something called the 'floo network'.
One of the more important documents they received was a list that the bank kept of recommended shopping for the new witch or wizard, as well as several maps to show them where to go to get what they were looking for.
The first item on the list was, as Mr. Granger had surmised, a place called Olivander's. As shoppes on Diagon Alley went, Olivander's seemed to be of a lower key. In fact, Harry was certain he could have passed it on the street at home and mistaken it for an old antique shop.
When they entered, they were greeted by a wizened old man whose misty blue eyes latched onto Harry straight off. "Hmmm… yes. I thought I might be seeing you this year." Harry stood stock still as the old man, presumably Olivander, circled him. Once he seemed to have taken his measure of Harry, Mister Olivander retreated back to a social distance. He smiled at his customers. "I remember every wand I've ever sold and when I look at you I remember two of them. Your mother's was a good willow wand, especially suited to charms and nicely swishy. Your father's wand was oak and bendy. It lent itself well to transfiguration." His hazy eyes traveled over Hermione. "Aah, a new generation. I'll have to be careful with you. Who would like to go first?"
"Harry does!" Hermione smiled unrepentantly when Harry glowered in her general direction. Over the course of the day, Harry had concluded that Hermione didn't like being out of her depth and until she felt like she'd found her feet she was going to be using him as a research aide. Really, if he were to be honest, he didn't mind. They seemed to mesh well and he was glad for the opportunity to go into school with at least one friend.
In grade school, he'd never really gotten on with anyone. He'd run with Dudley as a matter of course and because Dudley had a habit of hammering anyone who made fun of his cousin's glasses or skinny legs. As a result of this, those people who otherwise wouldn't have rejected Harry for his gawky demeanor were reluctant to approach him for fear of braving Dudley. Harry was fond of Dudley and had a patient sort of tolerance for Dudley's little gang, all of whom he tutored at one point or another, however none of them were especially good company when one wasn't terribly fond of cars or older girls or fighting.
For the record, Dudley was having the time of his life and routinely had to be pulled out of random shops that caught his interest. He had a million questions for anyone who would give him the time of day and was racking up a mounting list of 'things it would be really COOL for Harry to learn'. Harry loved his cousin in much the same way that one loved any overly large, loud, and overbearing creature: with a lot of patience and a short leash.
Their family dynamic could have easily gone sour, but Harry had learned early on that it was his job to look out for Dudley. Aunt Petunia had explained to him at an early age that Dudley was exuberant and prone to acting before he thought things through. His father was the same way. Harry privately had his doubts about the argument. On one hand, Dudley was inarguably spoiled and indulged by his parents. Harry was too, to some degree. Aunt Petunia had never really let him far from her sight. If Dudley was his father's child then Harry was Petunia's.
Some of the differences in their treatment, Harry attributed to temperament. Dudley adored objects and had a small mountain of them. Whenever his birthday rolled around there was always a trove of gifts waiting for him. Meanwhile, Harry wasn't fond of clutter. Anything item he was given was one that he'd have to find a place for, dust, polish, and keep in repair so his aunt and uncle tended to give him practical things like clothing, books, and useful items that he could justify making space for. The most extravagant thing in Harry's bedroom was a telescope that his Aunt had found in a yard sale, still in good repair.
Olivander smiled again as Harry shook himself free of his thoughts. "Come with me, young man. We'll find a wand for you."
Hermione watched her new friend as the strange old man who own the wand shop shoved wand after wand into his hand. She wasn't sure what kind of signal the shop keeper was looking for that he'd found the right one, but the challenge seemed to invigorate him. With every failure the man seemed to gain a jolt of frenetic energy until the air around him almost vibrated. Finally an odd expression of mingled triumph and anticipation glimmered in his mist-colored eyes, like sun peeking through the clouds.
"Yes… I think… well, it's worth a try…" With careful hands, Mister Olivander withdrew a boxed wand from a safe beneath his desk. Hermione looked on with interest. It must have been a special sort of wand to be locked away like that. "Holly with phoenix feather is such an unusual combination. It is eleven inches long and quite supple. Here, give it a try."
Hermione felt that buzz in the air intensify as Harry accepted the wand. For a moment the sensation cut out all together and the world was… quiet. No sound, no breath, no motion: the calm before…
The wall of power that slammed into her knocked Hermione back on her heels. For a moment all she could hear, feel, or see was Harry… not just his physical self… she could explain it but the feel of Harry flooded the room with red-gold intensity. He felt like a summer storm, wet and warm and power. She could smell… she could smell damp forests and rushing water, the crisp tang of white water rapids. When she tasted her lips she could almost taste seared atmosphere. Every hair on her arms was standing straight up and at attention.
The feeling faded and Hermione blinked back the dots dancing before her eyes. Harry's wild black hair was settling around his ears and papers fluttered to the ground all around him. Later her father would tell her that was whirlwind of light and color formed around Harry and abated almost immediately, but Hermione had seen something completely different happen at that moment.
If she looked hard enough, Hermione could still see flickers of that red-gold lightening storm trickling through Harry, centered around wherever his wand was on his person. The wand itself seemed borderline sentient and radiated a sort of resonant hum that put her in mind of some large cat lolling about in a contented doze.
Olivander was clearly suffering the same aftermath that she was as he straightened his glasses and mustered a smile. "I thought it might take to you." The old wizard sobered and shut the door behind them with a flick of his own wand. "Now, I have something to tell you, young man." He gave the assembled party a look over. "I remember every wand I've ever sold and the phoenix that gave me the feather now housed in your wand only ever donated one other." Olivander reached out to touch Harry's forehead with his cool papery hands. "Yew, thirteen inches, and… rigid. I remember it well. It gave you this scar, young man." Olivander seemed trouble for a moment, but it passed. "I send all my wands out into the world, not knowing what they will do. The twin to your wand did… great things… terrible things, yes… but great. I think… I think that we can expect much of you, Young Master Potter."
Hermione was an easier match than Harry had been. They had a nice sit down until Olivander matched Hermione up with a rowan wand with a core of Dragon's Heartstrings. As her hand closed around the and handle, Harry felt a pleasant breeze, warm and fruity wrap around him… for a second he could have sworn that he was standing in an apple orchard during late summer, surrounded by full lush fruit.
Olivander sent them on their way with a care kit apiece, his card in case of emergency repairs, and a fond pat for each of them. From there they visited a bookshop by the name of Flourish and Botts. It very nearly took a crowbar to get Hermione back out again and Petunia just 'happened' to find a few pre-mediwizard prep books outlining the course load one would be looking at when one was starting out for the medimagic field.
From there they broke for lunch in a street side café run by a jolly fat old wizard who made a great show of summoning their food right to their table and conjuring a cornet of flowers and faerie lights for Hermione when he learned that she was an honest-to-goodness first generation witch.
There was a brief stop in the apothecary for their first year potion kits and what the brewer in the back called an 'owl-order catalogue' for refills. That resulted in some confused questions, a brief explanation, and a trip to Eeylop's Owl Emporium in order to confirm that Wizarding mail was in fact carried by owls.
"Oh, mum, may I have one please? I've never had a pet of my own and it would be so useful…" Hermione was busy pleading with her somewhat skeptical mother while Harry communed with a lovely snowy owl, who nibbled fondly on the ends of his hair.
"Mrs. Dursley, you said your sister was a witch." Mrs. Granger forestalled any further pleading by starting a conversation with Petunia, who nodded. "Did she have an owl?"
"Well, yes." Petunia hesitantly reached out to run her knuckles down the down breast feathers of a serious old barn owl that permitted the caress in much the way an elderly man accepts his just due. "Although, Aga… Agamemnon, I think his name was, seemed like more of a pet than a courier. She did use him to carry her personal mail. Come to think of it…" She frowned and turned to the shop keeper. "There are public post owls, yes?" At the shop keeper's nod, she went on. "Are there any in Surrey? Yes? Little Whinging?" There the shopkeeper frowned and shook his head, no.
"Sorry, ma'am. There's no wizard population out that a'ways. What witches and wizards live out there tend t'have their own carriers. Y'looking t'get one for the lad?" Eeylop gave Harry –who could have been run over by wild horses and not notice- a significant glance.
"Well, I don't know…" Petunia demurred, mindful of the purse. She wasn't worried about money, but she hadn't factored in a pet with her calculation of how much she would need to spend on school supplies.
"Mum! Mum! Ask him if he takes normal money!" Dudley tugged on her sleeve and then turned to Eeylop. "Mister, can you take pounds?"
Eeylop smiled. "I can. Does your cousin have a particular owl in mind?" He reached under the counter and brought out a battered old lock box, a wave of his wand cleared the dust from the top and Eeylop unlocked it to display a goodly amount of change. "You said pounds, yes? Too many sorts of muggle money in here… ah yes, I have some pounds if you need change."
After some debate, Dudley settled an amount of his birthday money on the counter and received some wizard coins back as change. It took Eeylop a bit to do the conversation. By the time he was done, Hermione's parents had settled on getting an owl after finding a soft brown barn owl that seemed to dote on Hermione, sitting on her shoulder and hooting happily as she scratched his breast feathers.
"Happy Birthday, Harry-head!" Dudley grinned at the expression of shock as he gave his cousin the papers for his owl and a starter kit for her care and feeding. "Now you hafta write me when we're away at school. The man there says she's very loyal and quite friendly and that she can fly around on her own because all of them are magical owls and can find anyone!"
Harry had to smile. "You just want me to check your homework for you." He teased, but hugged his cousin anyway. Dudley had never been bad, just self-centered, but every now and then he managed to do something nice.
"Well, yeah…" Dudley rolled his eyes. "It's an investment, but really getting owl letters at school would be so cool. Everyone else would have to wait on the post man, but not me! The man says that we can get a box for mum that she can put your letters in and that the owls will know when to come get them…" Dudley launched off into a happy tirade on all the things he'd learned about the owl and Harry tuned him out, only halfway listening.
Hermione declared that her owl's name would be Archimedes, after an owl in a movie she'd loved as a child. Harry named his owl Hedwig, after a name he'd come across in his potions text. The name seemed to settle on his owl like a comfortable blanket and she hooted a serene approval.
Hedwig rode on his shoulder the rest of the afternoon or flew a short ways overhead when she felt restless as did Archimedes. The owls seemed to get on well and often shared a perch on a street sign whenever their owners went into a shop.
The day ended all too soon with a stop back in the Leaky Cauldron to speak with old Augusta who gave them some booklets that she'd picked up in the interim from someone in what she called the Ministry of Magick.
"They're biased and silly on several points, but good to have as a reference. I've included some contacts for you to get on the Floo Network. They have them… whatchamacallits… telly-fones, but you'll have to ask the directory for the numbers. Here are some names about the Ministry of folks who don't mind answering questions… especially Weasley there. He'd got about five boys what's been in Hogwarts so far with another about to go in and a girl for next year. He's in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, so if ye let him natter on at you with questions about your stove then he'll be glad to answer any questions you have."
"Thank you very much, Ma'am." Harry tucked their packet into one of his bags. One of the shop keepers had been kind enough to put an enlarging and weight reducing charm on them so that it was easier to carry their purchases. Hopefully he'd be able to find the packet again.
"Also, next time you want to pop 'round use that wand in your pocket to call the Knight Bus." Augusta jabbed a bony finger at Harry's pocket. "Hold our yer right hand with your wand and it'll call the biggest ugliest purple bus you'll ever see." She paused for an earthly chuckle. "They're faster and easier'n driving up in one of them muggle contraptions." She squinted at him. "You come an' visit me, boy. I'm here most days, if not Tom over there knows where I'll be. I'm a lonely old biddy. I like company."
"Of course he will." Petunia took Harry by the hand. "I'm sorry, dear. It's time to go. If we leave now we'll have just enough time to pick up a supper on the way home and have it on the table before your Uncle tries to cook again."
The ride home was uneventful, save for some expected sparks and whistles from the things Dudley had bought while in London. Hedwig had opted to fly home and if Harry looked out the window he could see her silent white form keeping easy pace with them in the darkness.
Dudley slept in cars. This was not a problem in and of itself. The problem was that he snored when he slept upright. They'd compromised by sitting him up front in the passenger seat and leaning the seat back so he could have a lie down.
Harry paged through one of his textbooks in the back seat. They'd stopped at a deli and had some cold chicken and sides that they could heat up at home. As a general rule, Harry didn't care for take-away. He preferred knowing exactly what was in his food and he'd heard too many restaurant boogey-tales.
The textbook was for potions. It seemed like one of the safer subjects. The other books all involved use of his wand and Harry wasn't quite ready to start playing with that. Potions reminded him a little of chemistry or cooking, although there had to be magic involved. Some of the more advanced brews in the back of the book called for ingredients like aconite and pure-grade belladonna. If Harry had mixed those things together without doing something to it then he doubted he'd end up with anything beyond a poisonous mess. Most of the potions needed to be stirred with one's wand so that had to be the catalyst.
In fact, if he looked at the book like an esoteric sort of recipe book then it started to make a lot more sense. There wasn't much background in the text, so he didn't get any information on the why of it all only the how. He could only assume that they'd go into the theory in class or that it was only taught at a higher level.
'Well, they'd hardly start us off with more than the basics. Hardly anyone learns to read without learning the alphabet first.' Harry paged back into the glossary and began to read through the general of basic components. It was a trick he'd picked up in History class. If he read through the glossary a few times, then he usually had a better time of picking up new information when he went through the chapters because parts of it were familiar. He knew nothing about the magical world and that didn't sit well with him. Harry was used to knowing things. Ignorance bothered him, especially when it was his own.
He'd start off with Potions. It felt familiar so it'd be a good start. Then he'd move onto his Charms text. It seems like a less intimidating version of Transfiguration and the book was written in a warmer tone. Transfiguration would come before Defense against the Dark Arts because… well, despite Aunt Petunia's thoughts on the subject, Harry was still a ten-year-old boy and DADA seemed a little thrilling. He was saving that for his figurative 'dessert'.
The car was quiet when Petunia pulled it into the drive. She could see the sitting room lights on and the large form of her husband sitting in his chair. She could hear the faint strains of talk radio on the quiet night air and breathed a sigh of relief. If he was listening to the radio then he probably hadn't tried to fix anything for himself.
Men could cook. Her nephew was living proof of that. However, she suspected that there was some sort of recessive gene in the Dursley blood line that had passed from Father to Son, which made them unmitigated disasters in the kitchen.
She saw Vernon stand up and make for the door when she switched off the engine and popped open the driver's side door. The scent of her garden greeted her and she relaxed just a little from the relief of being out of the car. She loathed driving and would be quite happy next year when Harry could summon that 'Knight Bus' to take them School Shopping.
Hedwig swooped down from the dark sky and alighted in one of the ornamental trees in the front yard. Vernon eyed it with some surprise. Petunia waved to her husband and dropped a fond kiss on his cheek when he approached. "Hello, Dear." She murmured.
Vernon peered over her shoulder and into the car. "You'd think they'd be too old for sleeping in the car by now." He snorted. "Find everything all right? Was the drive good?"
Petunia gave a weak laugh. "We all made it and got all of Harry school supplies. We even got a chance to get most of Dudley's too." She peered into the backseat and smiled as she saw her nephew asleep with one of his textbooks open in his lap. Well, at least he wasn't hunched over his desk again. "I'll wake Harry, you get Dudders. There's a fair bit of goods to get into the house and put away."
She opened the backseat door by Harry slowly, just in case he was leaned up against it. He wasn't, the boy had an innate sense of balance. Petunia considered her sleeping nephew for a moment.
When had he gotten so big?
It seemed like just a few years ago that she'd found him on the doorstep with the morning paper and that damned note. There was a reason she didn't mesh well with the magical world. People who left orphaned babies on doorsteps with notes explaining that their parents had just been murdered…
There were still a lot of issues that Petunia had with her dead sister. Most of them she would never get a chance to work out. It hadn't been easy to open up to Harry, not when he walked around with his father's face and his mother's eyes. Some days, she still had problems with it just because he was getting older and coming into his powers.
She never thought she'd be missing the days of diapers and bottles, but to be honest she missed the way Harry had been when he was a baby. Dudley had been a rambunctious little one even before he started walking, but Harry had loved to be held. As an infant he'd spent most of his time asleep on her shoulder or in his sling.
'You'll be different than your parents, Harry. You're going to save lives. You'll do good things, great things…' She shuddered as the old Wand Shop man's words came back to her. "The twin to your wand did… great things… terrible things, yes… but great."
Knowing what she knew about how her sister had died and why… she could help but feel afraid.
Notes: So this chapter was mostly me playing around with different viewpoints. I don't want this to be a regurgitation of Jk Rowling's work. Trust me, she did it better. Still, it's fun to look at the same situation through a different set of 'lenses'.