Hi everyone!

A merry Christmas to you all! I'm sorry the update is so late - I had an enormous assessment at work and it literally took all my energy for an entire month. But they were hugely positive (yay!) and now it's Christmas Holiday, I managed to make some time to write again.

It's time for the big showdown!

I am very eager to know what you guys thought about this chapter. I'm sure not everyone will love it, but I had great fun writing the complexity of Harry's emotions and the little elements of fun that are sprinkled throughout. I hope you have a blast!

For the next chapters, we will get back to the main storyline. Of you know, the goblins and the engagement ploy and all that. Seems like ages I actually developed that plot, but I have great things in mind for them.

Thank you all for continuing your support for me - it has been tremendous! Literally every day I get an update from either AO3 or FFNET that someone has subscribed or favorited or left a comment or gave a like or kudo - it makes me smile every time and I appreciate you all soooo much!

I hope you have a great holiday, wherever you are! Let's take time to reflect and love the people that are in our lives, even if we are not able to be close to them during these difficult times. I hope you are all in good health and I wish you all the best.

Love,

Flora.

Chapter 36: How Harry stood up for the little boy in the cupboard.

Harry feared that he had been too late, but he wasn't, as Teddy was just emerging from his classroom door when he walked in to pick the little boy up from school.

'Uncle Harry!' his godson cheered, his hair his usual light blue, and then he stopped dead in his tracks.

'What happened to your face?' he asked concerned, his eyes bulging out of his head.

'Oh, that's-…' Harry haltered, cursing himself inwardly. He'd forgotten all about how Uncle Vernon felt the need to pounce on his face as soon as he had gotten him to boiling point. The adrenaline rush had been so great when they'd talked about the arrival of the cops – and then he remembered he needed to pick up Teddy, and he'd forgotten all about the throbbing pain that was immediately returning to the righter side of his face. He grimaced.

'I was in a fight,' he decided. 'I didn't get the time to mask it. Are you coming?'

'Ohhh, an auror fight?' Teddy cooed. 'Did the bad guy lose, Uncle Harry?'

Harry snorted as he and his godson walked out of the primary school.

'You better believe he did, Ted.'

Hermione found them on her living room floor that afternoon: Teddy laid on his tummy, arms tucked under his head, his lower legs bouncing up and down in the air – Harry sat cross-legged, with Crookshanks in his lap, counting the Monopoly money that he owed his little godson for landing on his street. He loved playing Muggle games with Ted – games that he rarely played as a kid – and they bonded over it greatly. They'd built a fort with Hermione's cushions, a black sheet posing as a makeshift ceiling, and Teddy was grinning cheekily as Harry handed him the paper notes.

'You drive a ruthless bargain, Lupin,' Harry said, with played sorrow. He only noticed his girlfriend entered the room when her cat shot up from his lap to run over to her and Pigwidgeon, who had been hooting happily, circling the ceiling, let out a large screech of joy.

'Hermione!' Harry said, smiling immediately. Hermione smiled back and then her expression changed.

'Harry, your face-…'

'I put the necessary salves on it already, don't worry, it doesn't hurt-…'

'What happened?!'

'Uncle Harry defeated a bad guy today!' Teddy cheered.

'You defeated a-… But you had the Drillings meeting this morning, and-…'

'Wouldn't you define Vernon Dudley as a bad guy?' Harry replied, grimly. 'It's okay, he's probably still in a holding cell as we speak.'

'A holding cell?!'

Hermione's face was one of perplexity and horror.

'Merlin's Beard, Harry-…'

'I'm fine,' he replied, quickly. 'Really. It's just a discoloration of my face, nothing more. I would have masked it, but someone thought it looked "kind of cool".'

He looked down at his godson, who showed his broad smile with a missing front tooth.

'I'll tell you all about it when the little runt is safely tucked in. I promise.'

He exchanged a look with Hermione – she was extremely worried, he read that in the frown between her eyebrows, but she trusted him enough to make this decision and she nodded. Teddy began to protest ("I want to know too!"), but he ignored him and leaned into Hermione to place a soft kiss on her lips. She grumbled a bit, but then gave in and placed her hands flat against his chest; he used his index finger to brush a curl behind her ear.

'Yuk!' Teddy said and both him and Hermione chuckled in their embrace.

'It's just a small kiss, Ted. Nothing to be so fussy about.'

'Grown-ups are gross sometimes,' Teddy decided, talking to Crookshanks. The cat gave a soft "meow" as a response and turned his head in question.

'I'm glad to see you again,' Harry said, directing himself to Hermione, speaking softly. 'How was your day?'

'Not that interesting, to be honest,' Hermione whispered back. 'You're sure you're okay though?'

Harry nodded and the look they exchanged told Hermione everything she needed to know. Later, he told her. I will tell you everything you need to know, but give me some sense of normalcy first.

'Right,' Hermione said firmly, making a decision, 'then I have one question left, for Teddy this time. Do you have room for one more player?'

'We do, we do!' Teddy exclaimed, his hair turning a bright yellow, shooting up to make room for her.

'We'll just start anew,' Harry grinned, sitting down on a large, fluffy cushion. 'This victory goes to Teddy! 3-0 for you, buddy.'

'Uncle Harry is really bad at Monopoly Junior,' Teddy laughed, shaking his head at Hermione. 'He keeps on throwing the wrong numbers on his dice!'

Hermione looked knowingly at Harry. He knew she didn't exactly approve of him rigging the game in his godson's favour, but after the events of this morning, he couldn't help but shower his godson in even more love than usual.

They ate fish and chips, Teddy's favourite, before taking the Knight Bus to the Tonks-residence, and Hermione talked with Andromeda while Harry tucked little Ted in bed and read him a bedtime story. When they Apparated back into Hermione's flat, Harry felt strangely complete and proud of himself. It was a calming, settling feeling, and he didn't know whether it was just the way he'd spent the day with Teddy today, or if it was more than that. If it had something to do with the meeting of that morning.

'Tea?' he asked the moment they sat foot in Hermione's apartment again.

'Ehh, yeah. Sure.'

She looked at him curiously and he smiled. He knew she was eager to know what had transpired, but it was testament to her great personality that she didn't push him just yet.

'I'll put the kettle on, then. You can install yourself inside our pillow fort.'

When he came into the living room again, his tray filled with a teapot, two cups and a Nicky Littleton-brownie, he saw that Hermione had enchanted her magical blue flames in jars to float across the sheet ceiling. She was laying on her back, her hair splayed out on one of the cushions.

He installed himself next to her and for a while they said nothing, just staring at the ceiling, basking in the warmth of the tea and each other's presence.

'It looks like the northern lights,' Harry broke the silence. 'With the hue the flames cast onto the ceiling. It's beautiful.'

Hermione nodded and turned her head to look at him.

'Did you build these forts when you were younger?'

'Once,' Harry said. 'They left me alone when they went grocery shopping.'

He didn't tell her what transpired when Petunia and Vernon came home and found the mess he made. He had been 5. They had been livid. He had never dared to do it again.

'Harry,' Hermione started, but he leaned in to her touch and silenced her question with his lips. She tasted of hot, black tea and chocolate.

'I love you,' he told her, so softly that it was a mere whisper. She smiled and laced her fingers through his. There was a silence, and the only sounds that could be heard were Crookshanks's purring and the slight crackle of the little blue flames.

'I changed plans,' Harry then spoke. 'I went to the meeting a lot earlier than planned, to get a good idea of the workplace. I met a few members of Vernon's team. First they were very tight-lipped, but I saw the look in their eyes, so I pried a bit further.'

Hermione arched an eyebrow, but kept her silence.

'I might have… Used a bit of Legilimency,' he added.

Hermione opened her eyes wide in shock.

'On Muggles?'

'Nothing intrusive!' Harry defended. 'I wouldn't do that – you know I wouldn't. I'm against mind-torture. But I needed to see a bit of what they had experienced. I didn't need to dig or anything – I just mentioned Vernon and as soon as I even peaked into their minds, they were thinking of all the bad things he did to them. And seeing that, I just…'

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple.

'I have no idea why, but I always managed to fool myself to think that I was the only person suffering from Vernon's temper. But when I saw that, I knew I couldn't just embarrass him and leave it at that. I had to expose him. His true nature, his temper, his actions, everything. I had to make sure that at least those people would be safe from his actions.'

'Oh Harry,' Hermione sympathized in a voice that reminded him of their days at Hogwarts. 'What did you do?'

Harry couldn't stifle his grin as he turned his head to face Hermione. She was wonderful.

'Let me show you.'

When they entered Harry's memory, Hermione remained closely at his side, stepping through the office door. They knew they were both hunched over in the pillow fort, their faces sticking into Harry's freshly poured memory, but Harry's recent memory was still so vivid it proved hard for them to remember that this was not happening in real time.

'Wow, your uncle really let himself go,' Hermione whispered, even though his uncle would never be able to hear her. She pointed to the hunching, grumpy old man near the front of the desk, checking a flipboard. 'He's gotten quite fat.'

'He always looked like that,' Harry chuckled. 'His face got a tad bit more saggy and his hair turned gray, I'll give you that. But he was just as fat when you last saw him.'

'Merlin's beard,' Hermione said, shocked. 'Really? He's repulsive to look at.'

Harry looked at her approvingly, mouthed "I know, right?" and they installed themselves on top a set aside office table Harry knew would be empty for the entire meeting. It gave them a clear view of all the surroundings, being able to peek over the heads of Drillings-employees.

They bantered a bit about Harry coming in, him staring out of the window, the way her uncle Eric talked and sat. She commented on Harry not wearing glasses, he explained his thought-process. Harry gave Hermione the names of Eric's employees, keeping up the suspense by not revealing a single thing about what was to unfold. He loved chatting with her like that, discussing, teasing, explaining - it reminded him of simpler times, at Hogwarts.

They instinctively moved closer to each other, bored with Vernon's presentation, lingering in each other's warmth. She fit perfectly in his arms. Her body felt real against him, Harry noticed. She smelled real, the curves of her body, propped against his own as he wrapped her hands protectively around her, felt so real, it was hard to imagine that their actual bodies sat on the hard floor in Hermione's living room. Probably because my memory knows it so well, Harry thought, and that idea was so heart-warming, he could actually feel it in his chest. He placed a chaste kiss in Hermione's sweet-smelling hair, and he could feel the rise of her chest from her sigh.

'It's a good think they can't see us,' Hermione muttered. 'They'd puke.'

Harry laughed - a deep, and well-meant laugh.

'Talking about being lovey-dovey - would we be able to have sex right now?'

'Harry!'

He laughed again, so hard they blocked out Vernon's rambling.

'Not that we should actually - you know. But just out of a... How would you call it? Academic standpoint?'

Hermione huffed, which made Harry cackle.

'I suppose, as our minds know what it feels like. It's actually a good question - I don't know if it's ever been studied before. What happens to our bodies when wizards have sex in a shared memory? You might be the first perverted mind to let his mind wander there, Harry. Be proud of that.'

'Wicked,' Harry said, using Ron's catch-phrase. 'We might wanna try that out another time. Pure for research purposes, of course.'

Hermione gave him her stern look and he returned with his cheeky grin. He got a sweet kiss as a reward.

Soon memory-Harry began manipulating the marker.

'Honestly, Harry...' his girlfriend sighed, with an arched eyebrow, as the pen rolled across the desk. 'That's just petty.'

'Wait for it,' Harry grinned. 'Look at his face.'

And although Hermione tried to be the grown-up, she couldn't stop a loud "hah!" escape when the pen exploded in his uncle's face.

'Okay - that is kind of funny,' she finally admitted.

'I know,' Harry said, and they turned to listen to the incredibly awkward conversation that revealed the family bond between him and his uncle to the board.

'You're nice to him,' Hermione whispered. 'That can't be good.'

He didn't need to say anything, she read it all in his face. Then Eric announced their engagement.

'Excuse me? The girl with the teeth and the hair? That's how your uncle remembers me?'

'And that you were always hugging me, apparently,' Harry nodded, grinning. Hermione wiggled in his grasp, but he pushed her closer to him, placing a soft kiss in the nape of her neck. She gave in and leaned back, reveling in Harry's warmth.

'Who can blame me? Your hugs are just too good.'

He answered with another soft kiss on her cheek.

Eric pressed Vernon about Harry's schooling, which made Hermione very happy.

'Get him, Uncle Eric!'

Harry smirked at her and saw her expression turn to surprise when Memory-Harry covered for Vernon.

'What are you up to?'

'I needed the audience to trust me,' Harry explained. 'And I wanted to freak Vernon out some more. You clearly see it's getting to him.'

Hermione nodded. Harry's uncle, whose forehead now sported a straight, green stripe, seemed more and more on edge. Harry performed a bit of magic to annoy his uncle - a button on his shirt popped clear off when Vernon bent over to pick something that had fallen from his desk, another screech from an owl rang through the room, (which came from a concealed Pigwidgeon, chirping happily from Harry's bag), causing Vernon to yelp in fear, a window flew open, making his papers scatter and fly everywhere. Harry kept making new winds to move the papers his uncle needed, sending him in an almost breakdown. Five minutes later, Vernon had a vein popping on his forehead. Harry had been waiting for that moment.

'Sorry to interrupt you, uncle,' memory-him spoke, standing up from his chair. 'I know you are about to wrap this up, but I feel I should show the board a valuable addition to your presentation. I'm sure you'll take the time to put your files back in order.'

Vernon, who was frantically throwing papers around to find the one that he needed for his next sheet, almost lost his cool. Hermione could almost see the snarl that the ugly man held back - he had to clench his throat to stop it from escaping. It didn't come out, though: the man grumbled something that sounded a lot like "Fine" and memory-Harry strode to the front of the conference room, unbuckling his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. He unveiled a big television screen on top of a heavy, metal frame, that had been covered by a black blanket.

'As you all know, Mister Goodall was so thorough as to ask me to do an assessment of my uncle's team. I take my job very seriously and I am aware that the family bond my uncle and I have, may cause you all to think I am prejudiced in favor of the man. Today, I want to assure you there is no such thing.'

Memory-Harry smiled, but the smile was devoid of warmth and didn't meet his eyes at all. Vernon, who had been clenching a few papers between his teeth to make some sense of the mess of sheets that laid splayed out in front of him, looked up. His eyes were fierce and piercing, but memory-Harry wasn't to be deterred.

'Over the course of the last few months, cameras have captured just what kind of a man Vernon Dursley is. I took the liberty of collecting these unique insights into my uncle's work-ethics and believe me when I say, you will be blown away. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, my uncle: Vernon Dursley!'

The look on Vernon's face was absolutely priceless and Harry found great joy in looking at it again.

'Projecting memories unto the screen?' Hermione inquired, her interest peaked. Harry nodded.

'Seemed the most obvious.'

'Clever idea to use your Presentation Pensieve,' Hermione said. 'Although I'm not sure Eleonore would want you to use it outside of your Auror job.'

'Her bad she didn't force me to turn in my equipment,' Harry shrugged with a mischievous grin. The Presentation Pensieve had been developed years back, allowing Investigative Aurors to look at a crime scene or a memory collectively without actually entering the Pensieve with their own conscience. It also made it a lot easier to submit memories as evidence in court.

'Did you have to alter it for Muggle use?'

'Not much, I had to make it Watchable for their senses, so I decided to broadcast it via the television. Not that hard - it kind of looks like a mirror anyways. A simple transfiguration.'

'Effective, I'm sure,' Hermione said, smiling. 'Oh boy, I can't wait!'

Memory-Harry stood next to the screen and pressed a button on the remote control, turning the television on. It was all just make-believe: nothing would stop Harry's projected memories showing up on the screen, but the Muggles didn't need to know that. Memory-Harry sat down, staring intensively at the screen. He needed the focus for the broadcast.

The screen lit up. Vernon appeared, joking and boasting at the coffee counter.

'I have been very busy,' he bragged, clapping onto the paper folder he held under his arm. 'Leading my team, you know. Showing them how to be of value to our company. I've been working over-time just to be with all of them to support them.'

A few women, listening to Vernon, smiled approvingly.

The picture changed. It showed Vernon, sitting in his business stool, searching online for affordable houses in Majorca behind his desk. Dusk was settling in – Vernon turned on a lamp on his office counter.

A few meeting-attendees snickered, looking at the screen. It looked rather funny – the hunched back, stereotype of a lazy boss. It was a friendly jab, it seemed. Something of a familiar joke between an uncle and a nephew. Eric Goodall's staff-members looked at the screen, an amused smile on their faces.

'Mister Dursley,' a secretary called, outside the office. 'Tim wants to speak to you on line 3 – something about his father-…'

'Can't, busy right now,' Vernon grumbled back, the blue light of the computer screen hitting his face. The board-members snickered once more. This was funny!

'He sounded really upset, sir. Shall I say you'll call him back in an hour?'

'Can't,' Vernon replied, once more, yelling through the door. 'I'll be leaving in thirty minutes. Have to beat the traffic.'

A clock on Vernon's desk showed 16:00 – with a 9-to-5 mentality, it was clear Vernon Dursley didn't work "over-time". A few board-members were still half-laughing, but their joy started to dwindle with the seriousness in the secretary's tone. There was a silence for a few seconds, where screen-Vernon scrolled through some pages and hummed approvingly at a vacation home that peaked his interest.

'Sir,' his secretary spoke once more. 'Sir, his father is passing soon, probably tonight. He wants to know if he can take leave tomorrow.'

'That's what fathers with cancer do – they die. I told him he can't bother me with that too much.'

'He isn't trying to, sir,' his secretary said. 'He just wants to make sure his leave is covered.'

'We talked about this,' Vernon replied briskly. 'He took too many days off already.'

The board now spoke an offended "oh!" in unison. Their faces turned from smiling to scowling and the real Vernon, who had stopped filing his papers, began to get quite nervous.

'It's his third day this month, mister Dursley,' his secretary continued, the sound of her voice sad and defeated. 'Can't you cut him some slack?'

'If I cut everyone on the board some slack, no work would be done! I run a tight ship around here – if Tim can't keep up, I'm sure I'll find a proper replacement for him in no time. Maybe offer him that via the phone, Constance.'

His secretary didn't reply, but there was a sniffing sound. Vernon clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. The conference room was silent now – everyone stared at the screen.

'Fine,' Vernon relented, 'he can take on some of his leave days from the next month, if he really deems it necessary. But I don't want to hear another peep coming from him! Now, stop disturbing me!'

'Yes sir, that is very kind,' his secretary replied, still half-shouting through the closed door. 'I'll be sure to tell him.'

Vernon rolled his eyes and turned his focus on the website again. Apparently there was a little swimming pool included in this beach house!

The scenery changed. Vernon spoke with Eric at the water cooler.

'I make sure my employees work hard, but remain in good, mental health,' he said, his voice thick and slimy. 'A happy work-place is an efficient work-place, is what I always say!'

'You're right at that, Vernon-…' Eric's comment faded, as another memory came to life.

Vernon was seated in an office room, the windows that would give clear view in the room, closed off by blinders. He sat behind his desk, his fat belly propped against the side of the table. He played with his moustache, as a woman in front of him shivered: a small, feebly girl it seemed, who couldn't be older than 20.

'B-but sir, I-…'

'That's final, Phoebe. No complaining.'

'But sir, I have to go home,' she pleaded.

The Vernon who sat in the conference room made a startled sound. He stood up, walked over towards the television and stood in front of it.

'There's nothing to see here!' Vernon said, trying to cover the screen with his big body. 'Harry – turn it off, please. There's no need for any of this…'

But it seemed that Vernon shrank, or the tv-scaffolds grew, because soon the screen was towering over the fat man, making it impossible for him to cover it up effectively.

'Harry,' Vernon repeated, sterner now, but memory-Harry focused on the screen. Nothing would stop him from broadcasting his memories.

'Well, if you would have done your job, you would have been allowed to go home,' on-screen Vernon sneered. 'I asked for a manly flipboard. No girly stuff – I don't want to look like some sissy in front of the board tomorrow.'

'S-sir, I am not feeling well, I have been working for days-…' the girl sobbed.

'That's not my problem!' Vernon boomed. 'You should have done your job efficiently in the first place! Like I asked you to do!'

'Alright, that's it-…' real-time Vernon huffed, pressing the on/off-switch on the tv. 'Let's end this nonsense.'

But, as expected, the tv didn't stop. Vernon pushed the button again, and again, and again and again and again, until his index finger grew tired, but the tv didn't listen to any of that.

The scenery on the television changed once again. It was a younger Vernon now, talking with co-workers over lunch.

'It was my nephew,' he said, sighing. 'A completely disturbed boy – we took him in out of the goodness of our hearts when his parents died, but he has been nothing but a deranged, unstable nuisance. After the incident with Mr. and Mrs. Mason – he made a mess just to get some attention! - we sent him straight to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys – we tried to raise him with love and compassion, but some boys only reason with violence-…'

Present Vernon panicked. He knew the next scene was something he didn't want anyone to see – so he ran to the power outlet and pulled the plug. Triumphantly, he held the power plug in his hand, swinging with it as if it was a deadly weapon.

But the broadcast didn't stop. Memory Harry stared at the screen, his gaze growing more intense by the minute. Real Vernon stuttered, pointed at Harry, at the plug, at the television, and his eyes grew wide with fear and shock, while the recording played how the Dursley's had rehearsed for the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Mason.

'I'll be in my bedroom,' a young Harry said to Vernon, his oversized clothes and scrawny figure a stark comparison to his huge uncle and nephew, 'making no noise and pretending that I'm not there.'

'Too right you will,' Vernon replied, his piglike eyes shining angrily.

Then there was a brief shot of Harry in his bedroom, alone, dining noises clearly hearable from downstairs, until a cat climbed through his window. Harry knew he couldn't have used Dobby in his memory, so he altered it, showing how the cat (who did sport huge, green orb-like eyes), ran downstairs and knocked over the cake, while Harry chased after it to prevent it from happening.

'STOP IT!' the real Vernon now yelled frantically, looking at Harry, the power plug still dangling between his fingers. Harry didn't break his eyes off the television.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia appeared in the kitchen – Vernon muttered something about Harry being deranged. Then there was a close-up, Vernon's angry eyes threatening the boy.

'I will flay you to within an inch of your life,' the man promised seething, so softly the Mason's wouldn't hear it, but the audience did. Young Harry cleaned up the mess, when an owl flew in, setting the Masons off into a frenzy.

Memory-Harry still stared to the screen, his eyes hard and cold, where Young Harry was dragged up the stairs to his bedroom. Vernon tried to stand in front of television again, covering some of the view with his large hands, hoisting them above his head. The vain on his head was throbbing so violently it seemed to burst any minute.

'DON'T BELIEVE HIM! HE'S DOING THIS! HE IS MANIPULATING ALL OF YOU!' Vernon howled. The conference room was horrified – they stared at the executive, who was heaving, sweating and spitting red, pointing his chubby arms up. Then the man looked at Harry – a look full of vengeance, of hatred and violence, and he pointed one, accusing finger at him.

'HE IS A FREAK! HE IS A GODDAMN FREAK!'

Memory-Harry clenched his jaw, but kept his gaze intact, as tv-Vernon dragged him inside the bedroom, threats of bars on his window screaming through the room, Vernon's television and real voice competing against each other in a macabre shout-off. On the table, Harry felt himself grip Hermione tightly, nuzzling his nose in her hair to sooth himself with her smell. She clamped on his arms, her breathing heavier than before.

'Is he going to-…' she asked.

'Oh yeah,' Harry replied, grimly.

Vernon lost it. Heavy as he was, he was still quick enough to race over to Memory-Harry and punch him in the face. Harry's eye-contact broke – but Vernon, who was still holding the plug with his other hand, dragged the television down from its frame. The clatter was enormous – the glass screen broke in a million pieces, the electricity causing an array of yellow sparks to emit from the television, and the remainder of the TV-set scattered around the floor, leaving an enormous havoc. A few people yelled and coughed, as smoke rose from the destroyed device.

Then there was silence. Vernon, who had hit Harry once, looked menacing, but shocked. He stared at his nephew, who was shaking in his chair. Then, anger took over. His uncle raised his hand again, but his nephew looked him in the eye, and without a word, the world seemed to pause for a second. Then a crashing sound - the striplights at the ceiling burst, his uncle was thrown back against the wall. Harry's bright green eyes were fuming.

'Accidental magic?' Hermione said – she said it as a question, but he knew it was merely a statement.

'Hadn't happened to me in ages,' Harry nodded, still nuzzling Hermione's hair. She stroked his arm now, soothing him, and Harry felt it safe to close his eyes for a few seconds.

'Vernon Dursley!'

Eric Goodall was the first to speak, his voice drumming with force. The latter shook his head and sat upright against the wall, rubbing the green ink on his forehead so it caused a giant smudge.

'You have broken this company's trust by mishandling the people in your care, by breaking work-codes and -ethics, by exploiting and discriminating against employees who should have been looking up to you for guidance and trust. I'm not even talking about the fact that you caused an entire power outage on this building with your reckless behavior regarding our television equipment.'

He gestured to the mess that was now lying at their feet. Memory-Harry seemed relieved with that explanation of why the lights had suddenly given out.

'You have lied, cheated and manipulated us for decades. Not to mention the way you treated the children that were in your care – you are an absolute pathetic excuse for human life and there is no way, absolutely no way we condone any of the abhorrent behavior in our company. You are fired. Effective immediately.'

Vernon uttered excuses – which Eric swatted away. Then he tried begging and groveling, which Eric swatted away too. As a third option Vernon tried to throttle Harry again, but the security guards that had been alerted to the noise from the conference room, put a stop to that. Vernon was cursing and yelling as the big, broad-shouldered men escorted him out of the room, unable to reach his nephew and cause him any more harm.

'I assure you to hand him over to the police officers that will be coming to our lobby in a few minutes,' Eric grumbled. 'As a company, we'd like to press charges. And maybe Harry would like to press some too. After all, his uncle did assault him in front of some thirty witnesses – that is an open and shut case.'

The bodyguards nodded dutifully and left the room, Vernon thrashing between them. Eric's employees rose from their chairs and bunched together to talk about what they had seen. Eric calmed the majority of them down and then went to talk with Harry, who was checking his injury, still in a bit of a daze.

'Harry, I'm awfully sorry-…' Uncle Eric began, but Harry only smiled at him, rising up from his chair.

'Ah, just a regular Thursday morning, I assure you,' he joked, snapping out of his trance.

'Did he-… Did he really lock you up in that room, after that?' Eric inquired. Harry kept his smile.

'Yes. Bars on my window, as he promised. There's a nice irony in that, knowing which officers are about to pick him up, don't you think? I'm sorry about the ruined décor by the way-…'

'Oh, that's nothing my boy,' Eric assured him. 'Are you alright, though? He hit you quite hard.'

'Yes – better not mention that to my superior, he might sack me too,' Harry joked once again. 'Can't be getting sloppy on national security.' He winked. Hermione shifted uneasily in his arms.

'But Harry-…'

'Seriously: I'm fine – I'll get it checked,' he said, firmer this time. That seemed to calm Eric down a bit.

'I had no idea Vernon was that bad,' he sighed, pitifully. 'I mean, I know he was seriously lacking at a few points, but to have the problems run that deep… It's shocking.'

'I'm glad to have been of help,' Harry replied, truthfully.

'And marvelous unraveling there, I've got to say,' Eric continued. 'Really: I haven't been on the edge of my seat like that in a long time. But I must ask: how did you manage to get those videotapes? I can't recall giving permission for acquiring surveillance cameras that hi-res-…'

'Magic,' Harry replied, seriously. Eric looked at him for a few seconds and blinked.

Then he burst out, laughing.

'That's a good one!'

Memory-Harry smiled back, chuckling lightly. Hermione grunted.

'Cheeky bugger,' she said, nudging her elbow in his ribs. Harry laughed against her skin.

'Really though,' Eric asked, 'how did you manage?'

'We didn't film anything,' Memory-Harry fantasized. 'The government has been working on video manipulation. I've merely been using the audio-footage and testaments from your workers to compose a CGI-reality of the workplace. It's a project that desperately needed a first demonstration: my superior was absolutely thrilled to have it tested out in real time. But don't tell anyone, alright? State secrets, and all that.'

'Your secrets are safe with me,' Eric assured him, a conspiring look on his face. 'Incredible, the way technology is advancing, don't you say?'

They bantered a bit back and forth, until Eric mentioned the sound of approaching sirens and Memory-Harry turned pale.

'Teddy! I'm sorry Eric – I've got to go-…'

'I'll keep you posted!'

The room spun, and soon Harry and Hermione found themselves on the floor of Hermione's living room again. The flames were still dancing above their heads. Harry was about to lay back against the pillows, but he was attacked by Hermione, who threw herself in his arms and hugged him so tightly it was hard for him to breathe a few seconds.

Harry let her, allowing himself to hold her closely. He felt great comfort in her embrace, but a lump that was forming in his throat, was swallowed.

'I want to contact Dudley,' Harry said, after minutes of silence, when he felt it was safe to talk again without showing emotion in his vocal chords.

'Dudley?'

Harry nodded.

'When entering Vernon's memory during the presentation, I saw he was thinking about Dudley.'

'Oh?'

'Dudley and his boyfriend.'

'Oh!'

Hermione let go of him and looked at him quizzically.

'Yes. Dudley actually held quite a nice speech about me when he was coming out to his parents. I just want to let him know… That I support him, I guess.'

'Of course. Why don't I see if we can find him in the phone book? Do you have any idea where he lives?'

Harry left a quite awkward voicemail that evening and as he stepped into the bed with Hermione that night, he knew he would probably have a nightmare. His mind was restless of the events that transpired that day, and even though the events weren't necessarily bad for him, he knew his brain wouldn't let him rest for it. Had he done the right thing? Shouldn't he have stayed out of it? His mind was racing as he felt Hermione place her head against his chest.

'You did the right thing, you know,' she said, reading his mind like no one else could. 'Yes, it's going to be messy. But it's a good kind of messy. You stood up for people that were harmed. You told your cousin that you support him through his hardship. Those are all great things, Harry. You should be really proud of yourself. Someone stood up for that little boy in the cupboard today. Finally, after all those years. That is something to celebrate.'

Harry didn't answer, but he found the lump had returned to his throat. It took him a few minutes to compose himself.

'Hermione?' he asked.

'Yes,' she answered.

'Can I be the little spoon tonight?'

There was a silence, and then her lips were on his. Her mouth was nice and full and lush and he could absolutely drown in its taste.

'Of course. I love you.'

Harry felt great comfort as his girlfriend enveloped her body around his own. Maybe those nightmares wouldn't come to haunt him tonight, after all.