Chapter 30:On Honesty and the Truth

Harry had almost finished preparing a feast of a breakfast when his children meandered down the stairs. He smiled; the solitude of the morning had not helped his battle against this latest dream. Or was it a dream at all? Harry had only seen that young Sirius once in his life, as a spirit in the resurrection stone, and it certainly felt more like an apparition than the usual fuzziness of a nightmare. Harry was certain that if he'd been able to touch the man, that sense, too, would be eerily real. And Regulus… Regulus hadn't come home. Only the vagueness of that assertion kept Harry from completely believing that Sirius was searching for his brother in the afterlife…however vast that was. The thought made him ache with the sheer length of the trials that befell his godfather. Thirteen years in Azkaban, wasting away health and youth, while Harry had grown blissfully unaware of his existence. Had Sirius also spent almost two decades of death desperately searching for his redeemed brother, while Harry had believed him to be at peace? Luckily, his children spent no time in filling the room with much happier musings.

"Dad those pancakes look great! Hey Lily, I dare you to…"

"No James" Lily looked at her brother, irritated.

"Why? It would be so much easier if you'd just levitate…" James remained stubbornly seated.

"Why can you just 'Accio' them- I thought you learned that spell?"

James rolled his eyes dramatically, "Sure Lily if I wanted to smack myself in the face, I'd use that- don't look at me like that! Its hard to make a spell do exactly what you want…"

"Its fine guys I'll get them." Al rose from his seat, but Lily pushed him gently back down, "No Al it's fine, at least one of you isn't lazy…"

Harry watched with objective interest as his youngest resolutely stared at the heap of pancakes, her hands taut with effort. Then, slowly and a little wobbly at first, the plate and stack hovered from the countertop to the placemat right in front of Lily.

"Thank you, sis,!" James reached over to grab a few of the pancakes as Harry clapped from the stovetop, "The syrup is still in the fridge."

"I can't open doors."

"You should practice that then, seems useful" James ignored Lily's stuck-out tongue as he grabbed one more pancake.

"I figured out this though!" Lily eyed the food in James' hand and snapped her ring finger with her thumb, eliciting a rather loud 'Crack'. James clenched his hands as the pancake disappeared, "What the?"

But Lily was now intently focusing on a spot above her brother's head. Just as Al caught the meaning of her trajectory, she snapped her finger again and the pancake flopped onto his uncombed mop of curls.

"Hey, good thing I'm not picky," James lifted the pancake from his head and finally got up to grab the syrup, "I still think you're focusing on the wrong skills Lil, how are you doing that but not opening doors?"

"Wow, that's… that's very good." Harry had almost burned the sausages and eggs from the distraction.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you what she's been up to- Mum's been keeping me informed. She said she's never seen anything like it- Dad was going to let her try a few spells with his wand!" Ginny had appeared in the foyer entryway, looking well-rested and bundled in a furry yellow robe, "I said no of course… we don't need another fire…"

"My they've gone soft haven't they," Harry laughed as Ginny nodded ardently, "Well, Mum at least…"

The kitchen table was sizzling with potatoes, meats, eggs and fruit in addition to (the now very diminished) stack of pancakes when Harry's wand began to ring. He drew it and, after a brief look of confusion, opened the phone line to the middle of a hushed argument at another breakfast table.

"Just tell him to take it away!"

"We can just throw it away or hide it, there's no need for him to come. A nasty trick those three…"

"Camille, Dudley. Hello." Harry watched as his cousin looked blustering at the phone in his hand, before spotting the teleportal. His already red face deepened noticeably, "CAN'T YOU JUST ANSWER THE PHONE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!"

James, Lily, and Al all snickered softly as Harry fumbled for a response, finally just relenting, "What's up Dud? Something I can help you with?"

Dudley's lips puckered angrily, "Yes, yes you can help me!" he spat, "You can come over at once! I don't care about the fireplace…and take this darned cursed thing back!"

"What? Oh…" Camille had procured the 'cursed thing' and brought it into view.

"Is that Margie's gift?" Harry started. But even he could see something wasn't right with the Cele-orb. The inky black coloring was warping oddly. Slithering- Harry suddenly realized as the jet-black head of an anaconda rose above the twists of its long body, with two gleaming bronze eyes.

Without meaning to, Harry immediately looked at Al, who shook his head hard, "I didn't do anything to it!"

"Well, someone did something! Margie's a wreck- what a cruel prank by your children especially after the incident at the zoo! Why she goes into hysterics every time she picks it up!" Camille looked especially hawkish as she eyed each of the Potter children, trying to spot traces of guilt.

"How long has this been happening? Surely you must have noticed something was wrong immediately after we left- why the wait?" Ginny intercepted a particularly persistent glare from Camille aimed at James, her voice quivering on the cusp of civility.

Camille waved her hand dismissively, "She's had so many presents it got pushed to the bottom of the pile, I don't know. Besides Duncan snatches it up whenever he can- she only just found it in his room a few days ago…"

"Why I've never seen those two go at it like they have over that blasted toy! You've upset the peace in this household- your, your magic! That's what it does. Duncan's rivaled his sister in tantrums regarding it!" Dudley only stopped his preaching to glance at his wife, who had drifted off pensively.

Harry spoke up, "So does Duncan not like Margie rooting through his things?"

"Well, who was the thief first!" Blustered Dudley, "Besides, I don't see why you are trying to blame my son when you have three magical little culprits not even trying to hide their insipid laughter at this whole debacle!"

Harry tried to maintain some austerity in his glances at his children but he suspected the three were rather amused at the contortions gracing their Uncle's face and a smattering of deep crimson splotches, making Dudley look rather like a bloated goldfish. He turned to his cousin, "Look Dudley, none of them brought their wands along during that trip and two of them hadn't even started their schooling…"

"As if that prevented the zoo!" Dudley croaked, "I grew up with you Harry I know what your kind are capable of even without a wand!"

Harry pinched the growing ridge between his eyebrows, "Yes Dudley- A momentarily disappearing wall when you are a scared, a sudden change in a shirt pattern when you are excited, smoke in your ears when you are angry…. These are outbursts of untrained magic. That-" Harry pointed to the snake, "For that to be untrained magic, the wizard would have to be living in your house right now. As for planned jinxing… its just rather complicated to hide a transfiguring curse like that-delay its onset or trigger it. I don't think even James could have pulled that off."

Camille grabbed the orb from Dudley and examined it a little while the latter fumed, trying to think of a counterpoint on a subject he spent most of his time pretending didn't exist. "Well then what are you proposing?" He eyed Harry warningly.

"Duncan! Duncan, honey- can you come down?" Camille called her son suddenly, causing Dudley to start and spill a little oatmeal.

"What do you want with him?" Dudley questioned, wiping his shirt.

Harry pressed for more information, "You said Duncan was unusually upset right?"

"Sure, sure- and it's been a pity considering he gets along best with Margie otherwise. Favoritism I suppose… you give one child something special and suddenly sibling love goes out the door."

"You are informing me about favoritism?" Harry replied coolly. Dudley quickly replaced his red anger with correct embarrassment, reflecting a more watermelon pink.

"Yes, well I suppose I… yes sorry. Anyway I guess these things can just malfunction I suppose and it would be much appreciated if you could just… take it away."

The smallest Dursley finally appeared in the frame of the portal, "Take what away?" Duncan's eyes rested on the orb in Camille's hand, "That! No… I mean if Margie doesn't want it anymore…"

Camille gripped the ball harder, registering the greed in her son's eyes, "Dun, this is not your toy understand?"

"Well could Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny get me one for my birthday?" Duncan strained into the portal to look at his relatives.

Harry smiled mischievously, "I'm sorry son, but your parents are a bit unnerved by that gift and I believe they've articulated that magical presents will not be tolerated in the future."

"What!" Duncan looked incredulous.

"Well come off it son!" Dudley barked, "They can't get you anything too interesting anyway. Besides wouldn't you like a bike or a new baseball bat…"

But right now, something very interesting was happening inside the little orb still clutched in Camille's hand. The snake was slithering faster and faster, the curves of its body becoming blurry. As the motions intensified, the entire orb began to wobble. Dudley's eyes bulged further in fright. He looked at Harry in a panic, trying to convince himself that perhaps it was his cousin influencing the ball through the portal. Harry shook his head, "Sorry Dud, they don't work like that." Obviously reading his mind.

Duncan had not calmed down and was competing hard with this father for being the most flushed Dursley. Camille suddenly screamed as the whirlwind slithering peaked and exploded into what looked like thousands of crawling ants, "Please! Come get this awful thing now!"

The din had woken the other three Dursley children and Margie chimed in her agreement, revealing her presence with a loud, "Which one of those Potters did this to me!"

Her incensed face filled the portal as she threatened, mostly James, with a very unpleasant visit should they ever show their faces around Privet drive again. Then she turned to Harry and Ginny, "That was the worst present I have ever gotten!"

Ignoring her parent's pleas to calm down and mind her manners, she continued, "I barely had it for a week you know? Before it started going funny! I thought magic was supposed to not break- otherwise what good is it?"

Harry put his hands up to calm her, "I'm sorry Margie, what do you mean by break?"

Somewhat assuaged, she continued, in detail, "Well first the fireworks stopped turning on… so I let Dun take it. But then I saw they came back on, so I took it back. Well then, all it would do was rain and thunder for weeks so I couldn't sleep with it in the room. I think I put it in the basement after that, but it righted itself again!"

"And how did you know that?" Harry pressed, though he was already eyeing Dudley's youngest, who'd gone completely quiet.

"Well I… I saw Dun playing with it again outside…." She regarded her brother, "But then the last time I took it, it started… oh it was just awful… like that snake… Dun did you do that?"

The Dursley side of the call was now very silent as Duncan stared resolutely at the orb. Finally, he spoke, "I'd really like to keep it if it's alright with you."

Dudley shook his head mightily, "Oh no, not with all the chaos this has caused us, why your Uncle will just be getting on his way…"

But Camille stopped him, "Dudley Dear, if I may. Why don't we let him have it? Margie-poo you wouldn't mind, I'm sure your Aunt and Uncle could buy you something else to make up for it…"

Ginny rolled her eyes but agreed, as she had also realized the more pressing matter presenting itself.

Camille placed the orb in her youngest's hands, "There sweetie, it's yours."

Duncan still hadn't looked up, but as the orb settled in his grip, the swarming insects began to pop into a calm, inky night. And finally, the familiar pops and sparkles of fireworks signaled a complete return to normalcy.

Well, Harry thought, normalcy was probably a bygone term for the Dursley household. Dudley's coloring had given up completely, leaving him a shade of stark white as he blinked rapidly between his son, wife, and Harry.

"Is he… so he's…he's got…"

Camille looked happier, "Dud! We have a wizard! Oh, I need to call my brothers!"

Harry frowned as he watched his cousin, who'd stopped trying to articulate a sentence and now simply attempted to breathe, inhaling large bouts of air. Though he knew he'd never get away with it, part of him was certain that if Dudley acted even an ounce like his parents, Harry would probably come steal the boy away not unlike Hagrid had done so many years ago.

At the Potter table, James, Al, and Lily were exchanging shocked expressions.

"But he never acted magical!"

"I know! He's almost ten!"

"How?"

Ginny quieted them, "Now, now, you know it can present late. It's particularly hard to mimic magic if you don't have it around often. The orb was just a more permissive object is all- at least that's my guess."

Margie's eyebrows looked rather like wiggly caterpillars as she puzzled over the information transpiring between the families, "So he's magical?" she pointed a pudgy finger at Duncan.

Camille patted her head lovingly, "I believe so Margie but that's okay! We love you all, so there's no need to be fighting anymore. How does that sound?"

But Margie was far from bursting into jealous tears. Again, her large face covered the portal to the Potters and she grinned nastily at the three cousins.

"Did you hear that? We have a wizard now- I bet you're so scared James. You better think twice before you try to play tricks on me! Right Dun?" Duncan looked up, relief washing over him as Margie nodded approvingly, "Yeah that's right, Dun here is going to make sure you three stay in line! Cause I got me my own wizard." In the distance, Preston and Penny donned equally poisonous smiles.

"Well, George's candy works equally effectively on wizards and muggles alike…ow!" James laughed as Ginny swatted him.

At this Dudley reanimated, "Well yes, yes maybe that will even the playing field so to say. Um… yes, well done son." He nodded at the pleasantly celebrating orb, "Yes I suppose we should keep that. Is that- is it healthy for him to have magical stuff? Does it give him an edge in school… oh… oh boy- will he get a letter?"

Harry also seemed to be breathing easier, "I'm sure Camille can get him a few more toys but it really doesn't make a difference before eleven. If he wants to try riding a broom, I suppose he could come visit…"

"Oh that sounds very unsafe," Dudley puttered, although Camille looked ecstatic at the chance that her son might play Quidditch.

"Oh Dud it's just a flying lesson! Perhaps we could take a trip to Diagon Alley for a few trinkets and such- its on the way to your parents, aren't we visiting next week?"

"Oh no… no, no,no,no, " Dudley shook his head furiously, "We, everyone listen up, we do not mention this…" he gestured sloppily between Duncan and the orb, "To Grandma and Grandpa. Okay? This is just our little secret."

"But why?" cried Margie, looking again at her brother like a particularly cool object for show-and-tell.

Dudley started to hem and haw for a reply, but Harry abruptly cut in, "Well I think we've taken up enough of your morning. If you need us, you know where to call."

"Ah yes, yes I probably will," Dudley still looked considerably more spooked than the rest of the Dursleys, but smiled as he said goodbye, "A Happy late Christmas to you all, I suppose I should apologize- it has been a trying few months but…"

"It's alright, goodbye Dud."

As the portal closed, the Potters sprang into surprised and delighted conversation about the new developments of a magical Dursley cousin.

"What house do you reckon he'd be put in?" James pondered

"Definitely Hufflepuff." Piped up Lily

"Hey my friend in in Hufflepuff, what are you saying?"

Ginny chided her son, "James please, Roxanne is doing wonderfully in that house- and beat you for the Quidditch Cup your first year if I recall…"

"Well yeah my first year. Anyway, we know it's not Slytherin- he'd have a bang-up time in that lot with his parentage."

"Yeah… I suppose that's true," Al grew quiet as his siblings chattered. He'd noticed his dad looked increasingly sullen as he took smaller and smaller bites from his plate, his jaw tightening. Al knew Harry had been raised by the Dursleys, yet he'd never met Dudley's parents- he didn't even know what they looked like. Surely, they considered Harry's children something like grandchildren as well-, but Al had the strong feeling that this wasn't the case.

"I'm going to get some air." Harry rose from the table and made his way to the foyer, donning the cloak Ginny had given him as a gift.

"Do you want company?" Ginny regarded him kindly.

Harry smiled but shook his head, "No I won't be long Gin, promise."

A generous half hour later, enough time had passed that Ginny's perception of 'not long' had come and gone. She sent Al to fetch his father while James and Lily helped clean up the kitchen, with James egging Lily to levitate more and more precarious towers of dishes.

"Oh Al, don't forget your scarf! It's quite chilly- here." Ginny wrapped the article several times around Al, smiling, "It really looks good Al, I hope you like it."

"Thanks Mum," Al glanced down at the white and green stripes, quite unaltered despite his dream. He headed out into the frosty midday.

The Potters were the only wizarding family in the neighborhood, which was rather secluded. Climbing steadily from the downtown valley, the Potters rested on a sparsely populated road that wove often through the inclined terrain. Small strips of forest made natural fences in between the sporadic homes as well, and the high density of firs and pines guaranteed a green barrier of privacy year-round. Most of the neighbors preferred this feature of discretion, so the Potters had the added benefit of not needing too many concealment charms to avoid the detection of a particularly nosy muggle, who might find it strange that the house never seemed to have a car but might have three unusually ornate broomsticks oddly lined up at the end of the driveway.

The New Years had brought more snow to Ottery St. Catchpole, so Al could easily track his father's footsteps down the driveway and veering left into the winding enclave of houses. He soon caught sight of his father near a small playground at the edge of a cul-de-sac.

Harry stood on the small playground and remembered pushing James, Al, and then Lily on the swing set, before each learned to propel themselves on their own. Even with the bounty of magical toys, all the Weasley and Potter cousins loved to spin, swing, slide and venture through the obstacles of Muggle parks. Harry did not like these places. He remembered an awful time where Dudley and his gang of Smelting losers tied him to a Merry-go-round and spun it until he'd retched. They'd left him there until one mother was kind enough to untie him and clean him up a little, but he was late home regardless and spent the rest of that weekend confined to his room as punishment.

In truth, Harry did not want to imagine another magical child growing up in the confines of Number Four Privet Drive-not with that cupboard still available to become a prison. Of course, Dudley was no Uncle Vernon and Camille certainly not Petunia, but Harry had seen enough of the Weasley children's antics to know that all magical children were bound to hit a very specific nerve that seemed to make the otherwise ordinary Dursleys absolute monsters.

It had been some time since Harry had considered the senior Dursleys. Dudley knew enough to not mention them during their infrequent visits and Harry was aware of little more other than that they now lived in a nice flat near the heart of London where Petunia could easily access the Royal parks and theatrical entertainment. He'd last seen them for himself at Dudley's wedding over a decade ago. There, it seemed as though Petunia might have tried to acknowledge Harry with something that might have been kindness when she explained to Margie's dear namesake that Harry had turned his life around after graduating from St. Brutus Center for Incurably Criminal Boys and now managed a task force in the upper echelons of law enforcement. She'd even said Ginny, now his recent fiancé, was quite beautiful.

But then, when Harry had sent his wedding invite, he'd heard nothing back. And when he'd sent a few reminders, thinking that perhaps the muggle mail system was rather prone to missing letters, Dudley had curtly informed him to cease and desist. All his teenage life, Harry had never considered inviting the Dursleys to anything remotely personal, preferring to count down the days in which he'd never be obligated to see their horrible faces again. And yet, as the years toiled on, something weakened in him. And that one encounter, barely bordering on pleasantness, had somehow sowed a hope that perhaps a distant part of his family might come within the orbit of his life once again, only to be shattered by callous dismissal. Harry was now certain the act he partook at his cousins wedding was merely the bare minimum to avoid any rumors or hard conversations. To save face. He hated that he had fallen for it so gullibly, but even more so, he hated that some part of him still desperately believed that Petunia at least, might like him, just a bit more than a stranger.

Harry's head was beginning to buzz again with the frustrations of his Aunt and Uncle and the dream with Sirius and he didn't hear his son approach until he was quite close.

"Oi!" Harry jumped as he registered a solid crunch in the snow close behind him, "Oh hey Al, I take it I've used up your Mum's patience again, have I?"

Al nodded but came to stand beside his Dad when he didn't seem to want to return to the house. Another light bout of snow flurries was starting to fall around them and Harry took a moment to wipe the wet flakes from his glasses.

"Why do you keep them?" Al nodded at the pair of quirky, round spectacles. He knew from newspaper clippings that'd he'd worn them all his life, but now, in his age, the design clashed with his sleek Auror getup and demeanor. Plus, he could easily have his near-sightedness bewitched to 20/20. Then again, he could have also charmed the flakes off the glass with more success and less effort than the smeared eyepieces indicated, but Al learned his father rarely used magic for such mundane tasks.

Harry looked at the round wire rims before turning them back onto his face, "Dunno Al, I suppose I think they make me look good." He waggled his eyebrows at his disbelieving son, "No? you don't agree?"

"Do Dudley's parents not like magic?" Al swayed slightly in the wind, now picking up and blowing increasingly icy flakes.

Harry stilled, preferring to focus on the faint wailing of the merry-go-round. "No. No they don't."

"Is that why we can't visit them?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah Al, you know how Dudley is with your magic- just, just multiply it by a million and you'll get to where his parents are at."

Al listened to his father's breathing for a bit, as it had sped up quite rapidly and he feared he'd crossed a line. Something, though, willed him to inch further, if only to see how much he could prod out of his father's murky background.

"Did they not let you practice magic then? During summers."

"Well it was moot point really, I couldn't under the Statue of Secrecy anyway because my underage magic would be detected immediately as I was living with muggles. Aunt Hermione couldn't either."

Al nodded, "Was school hard then? You know not being able to practice anything over the summer? How did you keep up your Quidditch skills?"

Harry considered those points, quite relieved in the direction his son's questions had turned, "I could still read you know, and I practiced my wand movements with a regular stick or a pencil. I guess I wasn't as academically minded as you seem to be," he laughed, "I'd say maybe somewhere between you and James- you know, I turned in all my assignments but maybe didn't check them over."

Harry looked off into the distance watching the swathes of icy breeze undulate as they crashed into the hillside and winded up the ravine, "As for Quidditch, I really can't say- all I know is it was the most natural feeling I've ever experienced. I guess it was a good thing too, I couldn't imagine my childhood without it."

Harry glanced at Al, who was trying his hardest to hide his pout, "It's not for everyone though, don't worry. There's a lot of things to do in your pastime."

"Yeah I suppose," Al shrugged off the condolences

"Can I ask what you do in your free time?" Harry took off his glasses once more but fixed Al with a smart stare as he wiped them down.

Al shuffled his feet, "I read. I play chess with Scorpius- well he's much better than me. He likes gobstones too, marbles… I guess I enjoy listening to the Merpeople."

"Really? How do you do that?" Harry remembered the tricky task from the Triwizard Tournament, "Do you swim in the Lake?"

"No my Common Room is completely underwater so it echoes through…" he paused, "But Scorpius and I found this secret room and I think the glass- its quite strange, very warped- allows you to hear it as well. Much more clearly too… its, its very nice- I don't think I'd trade my House just to hear that every day."

Harry had the feeling, as his son trailed off, that those last words were meant for himself. He squeezed Al's shoulder, "Al really, it's okay… I really got fixated on my House as well when I was a student. And in the end, I knew I ended up where I belonged. I think something will make you believe the same thing but don't waste your time searching for clues- just enjoy the journey. I think that sounds like an amazing thing to hear."

Al smiled but looked at his father, "But you were worried to be in Slytherin."

Harry twitched his nose, irritated at his middle child. He had a way with turning a nice ambling conversation into a nosedive off a cliff within a second, "Al, I already told you last night. If Scorpius was the way Draco behaved, I'd wager you'd think differently about the Houses as well."

Unfortunately, his son looked unconvinced, "I just don't think one person decided this… I mean it was looking into my head."

"I really don't know what to say, Al." replied Harry.

"Why did you think I cursed that Cele-Orb?"

Harry closed his eyes for a long moment, "I didn't…"

"Yes you did! You looked right at me, not James, me."

"Albus!" Harry came dangerously close to crushing the glasses that he still gripped in his hand, "I didn't really. You were the one that caused the snake fiasco at the zoo, that's all. It just seemed very specific."

Al still glowered dubiously, "That's really it?"

At the surface level this was true, Harry thought quickly, but the conjured serpent had also reminded him that his son had brought about that particular outburst through conversing in parseltongue. And if he were being completely honest, he'd been half expecting his son to be sorted a little differently than James ever since that incident.

Harry realized too late that Al had interpreted his silence to mean that, no, something else was on his mind. Harry truly didn't know whether it was better to tell his son about his ability or not. And if he did, was he also obligated to tell him that many wizards were exceptionally prejudiced towards speakers of the language?

"No, it was really nothing else," Harry braced for the menacing look he expected from his son, but the defeated expression that met him was almost worse.

"I see." Said Al, acknowledging the sky that was rapidly growing darker and swelling in anticipation for heavier snow.

"Come, lets get back before Mum sends more troops out to find us, or worse, herself." Harry swatted Al's hair playfully, but the boy remained stoic. Well, thought Harry, that lie wouldn't have convinced his eleven-year-old self either. He resigned himself to a silent walk home.

As the road became steeper, the two slowed as they navigated the newly amassed precipitation.

"Dad?" Harry brightened as he recognized the return of his son's inquisitiveness, but Al's next words, again, shoved him roughly off a precipice.

"Did Dudley's parents…um… mistreat you?"

Again, Harry suspected his lengthy pause had answered everything for his son. He willed himself to trudge faster, eyeing their home appearing at the top of the ridge. "What makes you think that?"

Al skipped a little to catch up, "Scorpius mentioned that some muggles really don't like magic. Like they might not want a wizard in their family… they might try to get rid of them or make them lose their magic."

"And where did Scorpius hear that?"

"Well…" Al glanced furtively, "His grandfather told him when he was very young. He said it was partly why some wizards didn't like being around muggles…"

"Oh," Harry couldn't control his mockery, "Al it might do you and Scorpius some good not to listen to a word that comes out of his grandfather's mouth, understand. If that's what he believes maybe hanging around him…"

"Oh just stop it would you!" Al gave up following his father and stood resolutely in the road. Harry turned a ways up when he realized he'd been left behind. Even in the flurries, he could make out that pair of blazing green eyes, matching his own anger, "Stop making every little thing I say some indication that I'm going bad or thinking things that you know I don't believe! I'm not bad person!"

"I know that Al! How many times do I have to tell you that?" Harry shouted, half from frustration and half from the wind that was now fiercely whipping the breath out of him.

"I don't believe you!" Al cried

Harry stormed over to his son and realized that perhaps his gaze was substantially more menacing, as he shrank away. "You don't believe me? Fine. That's your choice Al. Because I don't know what else I can say."

Somehow, his son had the audacity to push him more, "You always do this whenever you don't want to answer me, its not outright lying but…"

He'd finally snapped the last chain holding down the boiling emotions Harry had wrestled since the early hours of the morning.

"You want to know what? Why you don't see the Dursleys? It's more than Dudley's nervousness- they hate you…because they hate me. They hated me and they didn't treat me anywhere near how they treated Dudley. I was not their son and I knew it from the moment I could remember, so don't go thinking I've deprived you of grandparents because they've never indicated that your existence meant anything to them. Do you want details? About what clothes I got to wear? What chores I had to do? What presents I got? Where I slept?"

Harry only caught the shaking of Al's head, not his frightened eyes, "No you don't- because you'd never get it out of your head. My entire life isn't one of your history books Al. I have my battles- I don't expect you to understand or learn or act on them. In fact, I'd rather you wouldn't- it is really none of your concern. So don't accuse me of lying when you have no idea what monstrosity the truth really is."

Again, Al nodded mutely. Harry could see now that he was also shaking, and he convinced himself it was from the cold. "C'mon, let's go home."

Harry barely had untied his boots when Al finished sloughing off his jackets and bolted up the stairs, past a bewildered Lily and James.

"What happened?" Ginny looked in the direction of her son before fixing Harry with a stern stare.

Harry could only shake his head weakly before turning away. Above him, he heard the firm closing of a bedroom door. The snow on his boots were melting and turning into tiny streams of dirty water. They soon soaked the edges of some emerald green yarn threads. Harry gingerly picked up the Slytherin scarf, the only article of clothing that hadn't been neatly put away. He drew his wand and began easing the water out, leaving the knit clean and dry.

Ginny had followed Al into his room and Harry could hear her gentle murmurs, though he couldn't make out any returning words from his son. He'd spent the last hour locked in his office, oscillating between staring at the ferocious wind battering the large window in front of where his desk stood and an old photo album. He wasn't rifling through the memories that weren't his- in fact, he'd been doing that more infrequently as the years passed on.

Instead, the book laid open to the last page, where the only additional photograph since Harry had left Hogwarts, was placed. It was unlike the other photographs, in that the two girls stood still against a similarly stagnant background. Yet Harry could infer quite a lot from the natural way the smaller girl clung to the older one in a loose hug and she, in turn, had rested her head affectionately over her sister. They had been playing in what must have been the dead of a summer heat wave as Lily's hair was comically bushy and Petunia had more than a few strands plastered in ringlets on her forehead. She didn't look like someone who would one day ignore her own nephews pleas to eat a little more, his stunted appearance. And the more Harry looked at this photo, the less believable his own memories became. It had been inside the wedding gift from Dudley, but slipped rather innocuously between the tissue paper and Harry suspected it had been from Petunia. And for a reason that he wasn't clear to him, it was very important that his intuition was true.