Despite what Harry always had always thought, many wizarding homes were very much capable of having functioning muggle technology. Generally speaking, it was much more of a cultural aspect that most wizards don't possess electrical items such as televisions and dishwashers.
It was because of this, Harry had been rather surprised the first time the Potters had bought a TV, but he had quickly remembered it was only places like Hogwarts, with so much magic, that a TV would have been rendered a metal box. Even with how old the Potter mansion was, the fact that it had not been inhabited for years, and the, now, small population, there was barely even a feel of it in the air.
Harry had never really been a fan of the television, not that he had ever been allowed to sit down and watch it, but he remembered Dudley sat in front of one for hours, gaping, watching everything and anything that appeared on the screen.
Perhaps it was because of this experience that Harry did not feel comfortable watching TV for more than an hour at a time, but it wasn't something he was going to change, and he didn't see why he should have to.
But here he was, watching TV with Tom and Hermione, who had, over the past year, become a familiar sight around the giant house.
Both boys had been warned with extreme trepidation by their parents not to mention magic under any circumstances. Hermione was, as far as they were aware, a muggle, and that meant they were, as far as she was aware, muggles too.
Tom looked up from the documentary about wolves to glance at Hermione, who was furiously taking notes about the creatures. She was using Tom's birthday gift to her, a gorgeous red notebook made to look like some sort of tome one would find among identical books, on the shelf of someone rather rich or pretentious. Although she had only received the book two weeks ago, it was already half way full, thanks to Harry's gift, a collection of textbooks about an assortment of subjects; animals, chemistry, and Shakespeare.
After a fond smile, Tom returned his gaze to the wolves, currently nuzzling each other. Hermione seemed to be Tom's favourite friend, perhaps because she shared his thirst for knowledge, if not tenfold.
Eventually the show came to an end, and the three ran up to the hosts' bedroom to play. They were in the middle of a puzzle when Hermione went uncharacteristically quiet.
"Hermione, what is it?" Harry nudged her.
"Well, it's nothing really…" She trailed off as Tom also noticed her odd behaviour.
"Come on, you can tell us!" Tom smiled at her.
"Well, it's this book…" She walked over to her rucksack, discarded on the floor, and began rummaging through it. Harry's heart skipped a beat when she pulled out 'Matilda'.
"What is it?" Tom looked at the book, puzzled.
"The girl in it, Matilda, she can do …things… and, well, so can I."She let out a large breath.
Both boys exchanged suddenly knowing glances.
"What kinds of things?" Harry edged towards her as Tom stood up.
"The other day, I… Look, I'll show you, because if I say it, it'll sound silly." She beckoned them out of their room, leading them to the rarely-used playroom. She stopped them about five feet from the bookshelf.
"Just watch, okay?" She asked them, looking slightly desperate. After both boys nodded, concerned, she took a deep breath, and turned towards the bookshelf.
Reaching out her hand, she scrunched up her nose, as if she was thinking very hard, and suddenly a book shot out, straight into her outstretched fingers. Opening her eyes, she stared down at the book as if she didn't quite believe it herself.
Tom seemed speechless, but Harry smiled at her.
"You see, I didn't really know… And I couldn't just, without, you know, and I-" Harry cut off her nearly tearful ramble by grabbing her empty hand. Still looking at her, he reached out his other arm, and a book flew into it. She dropped the book, and gaped at him, shocked.
Tom, getting the message, walked over, grabbed her other hand, and repeated Harry's actions, and after a moment, yet another book shot out at them, into Tom's hand like a magnet.
Hermione looked between them, crying now, and she engulfed them both in a hug; smearing their shoulders with snot and tears.
"It's okay, Hermione, we know." Harry smiled into her bushy head.
After a very uncomfortable discussion with both sets of parents, everyone was bombarded with many, many, many, questions, and the notebook was dangerously close to being full of facts, details, and even small nonsense ramblings from any member of the family.
Hermione was delighted to discover that Lily was also a 'muggleborn', and Lily was excited to have someone to share her personal account of the world with.
Thanks to her discovery, Harry's parents were now comfortable with having Hermione around Ron and Neville, which was something they considered too risky before. As much as he loved Ron, Harry had to admit he was a bit dense, and the difference in cultures was just so big that there was no doubt Ron would let something slip. It had taken forever to explain television to him, and from that it was unlikely that he would understand most of the things Hermione
would say.
But now, the trio was back together, all friends, just the same as they'd always been, but this time with Neville! And of course, Tom.
Hermione loved asking questions about wizarding culture to Ron, who was so deeply immersed in it, and Ron returned just as many questions about muggles to her. Harry often thought it was very reminiscent of his father. Although it sometimes felt a bit like baby-sitting, since they were so much younger than him, and sometimes it made him feel a bit weird, but he didn't know what he'd do without them. They were… comforting to him.
And he needed it. The vague book had been a blow, but he wasn't going to give up just like that. He very possibly may have been avoiding thinking about it lately, but after meeting with Hermione, he had resumed his slow combing through the Potter library. It was so disorganised, there could be any number of books on the subject hidden among the shelves, he couldn't just give up after finding one unhelpful book. He just got ahead of himself is all.
But there was one thing that had been distracting him quite a lot lately, and it wasn't his friends, it wasn't his quest home, no it wasn't even tutor homework, it was his core.
It was growing.
Harry had always had an above average magical core, after all, there weren't many 13-year-olds that could cast a patronus, but he had noticed not only could he cast spells with his regular, not-aged-down core, but much more complex spells, spells that most adults could find challenging.
He had first noticed this in the library, a few months ago.
Harry was trying to reach a high up shelf for a particular book that was placed spine-inwards, meaning he couldn't see the title. What he usually did in this situation was climb up the shelves, but noticing how heavy his frame had been getting, no longer a toddler, he thought he'd try a new tactic.
Facing his hands down, he tried to direct his unbridled accidental magic towards the floor, to float himself up gently. He had been practicing with his accidental magic of late, while it was in its easily controlled state, before he turned eleven, he thought it would be helpful to learn such a skill. It seemed this very situation was what he had practiced for.
So imagine his surprise when he found himself shooting into the ceiling at quite an aggressive speed.
Moving his palms up, he tried to slow himself down, only to propel himself to the ground just as fast! It took several minutes of him shooting up and down, before he started to calm himself down, putting a considerable amount of effort into slowing his 'flying'. It was very reminiscent of having jet packs attached to the palms of his hands.
Landing roughly, albeit safely, on the floor, Harry slid down to the ground, and curled up, panting, trying to calm himself down. It was a wonder he didn't scream the house down.
After a few minutes, he stood up, deciding to risk climbing the shelves.
Ever since that day, Harry had been sneaking off to the library to not only research, but practice the control over his growing magic.
Many might say that this was amazing, he was so powerful, he could perform any spell, but Harry felt totally hopeless, it was as though he had lost all ability to do magic. It was a huge set back, and he could barely cast a summoning spell without it slamming his hands so hard it left the skin red.
He had hidden the bruise from Hermione's reveal day for a whole week before it went away.
He had been re-learning how to do magic, which had been really fucking stressful what with everything else that had been going on.
Alas, onwards he must march.
"Happy birthday boys!" Smiled Dumbledore, presenting two well-wrapped pairs of socks.
"Thank you!" Harry and Tom chorused, taking the gifts, one much more hysterically than the other. The sheer joy Harry expressed at receiving socks from Dumbledore every year confused everyone, and it had become a running joke among the household, and now the guests, watching on, flabbergasted.
They watched on now as Harry ripped off his shoes, and pulled on moldy-orange and neon-green polkadot socks over his already bare feet. Lily had gotten rather upset when Harry refused to put on any socks in preparation for Dumbledore's arrival.
Tom also pulled on his neon-pink, neon-yellow striped socks, though with much less gusto.
As was customary, Harry felt a mental probe poke his brain, and saw Dumbledore minutely shake his head at his parents. Why did they keep checking? The mental shields were unlikely to just 'disappear'.
After the party resumed, Harry saw Dumbledore speaking with his parents in hushed tones. Whatever he was saying, Lily looked furious, and James looked completely shocked. They both turned to look at someone, but before he could see who it was, Sirius announced that cake was "about to commence", and Harry was swept towards a table.
Oh well, cake.
"I don't care James, I don't want him here any more!"
Harry halted in his journey back from the toilet to listen at his father's study door, drawn in by his mother's screaming voice.
"Lily…" Came his dad's reproachful tone.
"How can you defend him, he put our whole family at risk!"
"I… Look Lils, I know, I agree, I'm not defending him! I'm just saying that maybe we should ask him about it before just banishing him from our lives."
They were still arguing? The party ended hours ago.
"James! He nearly got us all killed! Tom! Harry! You! ME! What other side could there be other than being a dirty, scumbag, death-eater?"
Oh god, was this?
"Yes, but Lils, he begged for our lives, all of our lives, he made a stupid, twatty, mistake, but he tried to fix it, and look, he did! We're alive aren't we?"
"I DON'T CARE JAMES, HE COULD HAVE KILLED MY BABIES!" Lily was crying now, Harry peaked through the slightly ajar door. He watched as James walked up to her, wrapping her in a hug.
"Yes i know, i'm sorry, you're right.I'm sorry. Shhh, please, it's ok. But what can we tell the kids? They know him, we can't just cut him off entirely, he babysits, they call him Sev, we can't just stop that, can we?"
After a moment, Lily sniffled, takin deep, heaving breaths.
"Yes we can. If they ask, we'll explain our choice. I don't want my children to associate with someone that nearly killed them." James sighed, very clearly not enjoying her decision.
"Honestly Evans, First you want me to get on with Snivelus, then you don't, then you do, then you don't again," He chuckled, "make up your mind!" Lily couldn't help but laugh at this slightly, wiping her tears on his shoulder.
Harry decided this was his cue to fuck right off and pretend he never saw this.
Crawling back into bed, Tom spoke up across the room.
"You took ages, you got the runs or something?"
"No, just got distracted talking to Creus." Harry whispered back.
"He's too talkative for a painting." Tom yawned.
"He's probably just pleased to not be in storage anymore, Hermione would have been really freaked out by him before." Harry's eyelids began to droop.
"Mmm, 'night." Tom mumbled into his pillow.
"Mmmm." Harry responded.
They were both still wearing their socks.