Chapter Six
Petunia Dursley considered herself to be a devout woman, or at least she once was. She attend Eucharist every Sunday, and managed to go to Morning Prayer at least a couple times a week. During the school year, she often managed to do so every day for weeks at a time, though she often had to go to a different church.
In Little Whinging, the local Anglican Parish was known as Saint Philip the Apostle's Church. The building had begun it's life as a chapel on a noble's estate, and dated back to the time of Edward the Confessor. It had once been a rather plain structure, until Victorian times, when the Golthic Revivalists had gotten their hands on it. Now it featured intricate stone tracery, and the stained glass windows that had been added then had just gone through another restoration.
Saint Philip's was known for it's stained glass windows, especially the fifth one back from the altar on the West side. It was called Jesus and the Little children. Petunia had personally contributed to that last restoration of the window. It was a window that she often stared at, both inside and outside the church. Of course you really couldn't get the full sense of the window from the outside, save for one time of day, and then only if the upper doors to exit the choir loft were open.
Father Greeley knew about it, and when the weather was good, he ordered the doors kept open. It improved the circulation of the un-air-conditioned sanctuary. Father Greeley had also admitted to Petunia that he liked to look at the particular window, too.
For Petunia, it had special significance. And this Sunday Morning, she stood in the grave yard and remembered that day when she'd buried her baby daughter. Dahlia had been strangely untouched by death. When Petunia had seen her in the coffin that last time, she almost thought Dahlia was asleep. It wasn't until she had stood in front of her daughter's grave and looked up towards the Church, and saw the window, that she had accepted that her daughter was dead.
For months afterwards, Petunia had come to the grave yard, trying to capture that feeling of acceptance, it had only lasted a minute or so, as the light shown through the church, lighting up Jesus and a pair of children at his side. As the sun rose in the sky less of the figure would be lit and visible from the grave yard. It was in that minute that the whole figure was lit that Petunia had ever so briefly found acceptance, in that moment she had truly believed that her daughter was at the side of the Son of God.
It was a moment that she had wished that she could have hung onto. A moment that she wasn't the overwhelmed young mother who had lost her daughter. A moment when she wasn't the unwilling caretaker of the son of her dead sister. A moment when her father, mother, and sister were not dead. A moment when she could still feel the touch of their hands on her shoulders, shoulders that did not seem like they could not take the weight.
Lily had been there, that day. It was the last time she had seen Lily. Here in this morning, having walked all the way from Privet Drive, her nephew accompanying her for the first time in ages, the memory seemed fresh again. Here, with her ritual stop at her daughters grave, with the morning breeze after a midnight's rain, everything seemed fresh again.
As she stood by the grave, reading the tombstone in her mind for what seemed to be the millionth time, Harry bent down and placed a single white Easter lily on the stone, right between the dates. "Dahlia Dursley, September 10, 1981 - October 13, 1981, Non angli sed angeli," he read. "I wish I'd know you."
Somehow Harry's arm found it's way around Petunia's back. She knew that her nephew was not one for physical signs of affection, Vernon's temper had assured that, so the comfort of the touch as she looked down at the grave, the wound of her first daughter's passing only recently beginning to start to heal.
As she looked up from the grave towards the church, the window seemed to glow, the halo around Jesus seemed to expand. The little girl at Jesus's side seemed to wink at Petunia, as the tears flowed down Petunia's face. She could not bear to wipe them from her face. Her eyes stayed on the window, as the sounds of Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring started to come from within the Church.
"Come on, Aunt Petunia, we don't want to miss Mass," Harry said as he began to guide her to the church. His arm behind her back reminding her so much of how his mother, her sister had guided her that day when grief seemed to be the deepest.
The baby inside her would not be another Dahlia. There could not be another Dahlia, but maybe, just maybe. "Harry," the name escaped her, and her nephew looked up, right into her eyes. It was not as far up as he had to last year. Her boys had grown so fast. "Do you think you mother would have minded if I name the baby after her?"
It had been two years since Sirius Black had been on Privet Drive. It was still the most boring street in Britain. Of course, part of that might have been because he was visiting the same way as the last time, as Padfoot, at least until he got to Number Four. He really hated being on the run.
As he reached Number Four, he spotted Harry bent over next to the pond part of the water feature, placing one of the stones that would be around it's edge. Sirius couldn't resist the target. He broke into a run, building up as much speed as he could. When he reached his godson, he jumped, his paws hitting right on Harry's behind. His momentum carried him over the pond. Harry, on the other hand, ended up in the drink.
Sirius turned and gave a mischievous bark before heading around the corner of the house to transform. Since Harry was a Wizengamot member now, he could prevent Sirius from being arrested in his home.
As Sirius reentered the front garden, Harry was just standing up, still in the middle of the pond. Over beside the waterfall, or what Sirius believed was going to be a waterfall, Harry's cousin appeared to be busy laughing hysterically. "Sirius Orion Black, you son of a bitch, you had to knock me into the water."
"I do not deny that my mother was a bitch," Sirius said with a smile. "I think I can even find a few witness to attest to it." As Harry looked at him with an expression of disbelief, Sirius let the smile drop. Now that he was looking directly at Harry, he noticed circles around Harry's eyes. "Harry, we need to talk."
"Well, thanks to you, I need to change," Harry replied, stepping out of the pond. He was barefoot. There was a bruise on the top of his left foot. "Dud, can you test the pump while I see what my godfather wants?"
"Sure Harry," Dudley replied, as Harry led Sirius over to the front door of number four. Sirius spared a brief glance backwards at Dudley, noting that the boy seemed to be a bit more to the muscular side than he had been the last time he'd visited Privet Drive.
Harry led Sirius up the stairs to his room, passing Aunt Petunia who gave a disapproving glance to Harry. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia," Harry said at her glance. "I got pushed in the water feature. Dudley's testing the pump if you want to see how the waterfall is going to work." Petunia nodded. Harry continued up the stairs and into the smallest bedroom. Once in, Harry preformed a drying charm on his clothes.
The room was a lot better than what Sirius had been told. The bed had a new spread and sheets, judging from the packaging still on the floor, deep blue ones. It looked like someone was testing out a painting charm on one wall, which was a golden yellow to the other plain white walls. The white walls all had a place at top where it was obvious that something had been torn from them. The curtains also looked fairly new, matching the new bedding.
"Are you sleeping okay, Harry?" Sirius asked. There were definite bags under Harry's eyes.
"Dudley woke me up before five this morning. I got just four hours sleep thanks to him and staying up reading Hermione's Wizengamot research notes," Harry replied, looking down. "Why did you come to Privet Drive?"
"It was a safe enough trip, as Padfoot," Sirius said, as Harry sat down on his bed. Sirius took his seat on Harry's desk chair. It was a bit wobbly and looked beaten up. "I think you need to replace this."
"It's on my list," Harry replied. "Uncle Vernon said I could fix up or replace any of the stuff in my bedroom, and I'm going to need a new desk and computer to do some of my Wizengamot stuff. At least that's what Hermione says. I've never really used a computer."
"Computer. What's a computer?" Sirius began. "Never mind, I need to tell you about my plan to sneak back into Azkaban."
"You plan to sneak back into Azkaban, the world's most secure wizarding prison," Harry said in an incredulous tone. "Past all those dementors. Professor Lupin said you were the one that always came up with the craziest ideas, but I'm sure this one is a whole new level of craziness. What in the world are you trying to do? You want to become the first person to escape it twice?"
"Actually, I want my freedom, and if I'm in the prison, with the support of a Wizengamot member like yourself, I can petition to finally have a trial," Sirius replied. He rather enjoyed watching the response to this plan. Remus had been a lot more vocal. Dumbledore had actually thought that at the right time it might work. Remus had reminded Sirius that Dumbledore had been considered slightly mad since at least their time at Hogwarts.
Harry looked up at the ceiling, as if he was calling for divine intervention, before laying back on his bed and crossing his arms. "I've got to hear how this works."
"I intend to go from here to the Shetlands, where I'm going to take a dinghy out close to Azkaban," Sirius began, reciting his plan. "I will then change to Padfoot and swim ashore. My cousin Tonks, who is an Auror confirmed that nothing has happened to my path into the building yet, so I should be able to get back into the building. I'm not going back to my cell though, as they did do something to my old cell. Instead, I'm going to a disused wing for low security prisoners, known as the Questioning Wing. There I will shut myself in a cell. Monday morning, Madame Bones, along with Tonks and Kingsley are doing a full inspection of Azkaban..."
Harry cursed whoever had designed the stone edging. It was supposed to fit exactly around the edge of the water feature, each piece tight against the other. Harry was beginning to think it was really designed to hurt him, and it never seemed to fit right. All his help was gone at the moment. Dudley was with his new girlfriend. Uncle Vernon had declared that it was too hot for him to work.
Harry had decided to keep going. He hoped that he'd have all the rocks and the water feature done by the time Professor Dumbledore brought the plants after Monday's Wizengamot session, so they could be planted Tuesday Morning. "Ouch! Bloody rock," Harry mumbled.
"Language, Harry." It was a familiar female voice. Harry looked up, confirming that Hermione Granger had come to visit Privet Drive for the first time. "I do hope you haven't done all of this yourself."
"No, I've had an army of house elves working around the clock," Harry replied. "The house wasn't in the right place so they had to take it down and rebuild it six and a quarter inches to the South."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded.
"What brings you to Privet Drive?" Harry asked tirely.
"Well, you're do at the Wizengamot early tomorrow morning, and I thought I'd stop by on my way to London to drop off some of the research results," Hermione pulled out a sheaf of paper about a inch thick. "That, and I wanted to see if you'd started your homework yet."
"No, I have not started my homework yet. It's only been four days since we left Hogwarts," Harry snapped.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving towards him.
Harry looked at his best female friend. She was, as always, impeccably dressed, wearing a knee length gray skirt and a white T-shirt with the Vauxhall car company logo on it. All of it quality clothes. For some reason, as he looked at her concerned expression and perfect attire, something broke loose. "No, I'm not okay. I got less than two hours of sleep last night, because for the first night since Cedric died, I wasn't busy thinking about something. So last night, I got highlights of Kill the Spare, and Not Harry. I saw things that Malfoy did. Then just as I'm finally getting to sleep again, Aunt Petunia calls me down so I can go with her to Church.
"I have to walk with her all the way out to Saint Philip's, then get stuck in a row between two old ladies who have no concept of proper perfume application. That's enough to trigger Aunt Petunia's morning sickness, so now I have to take my new suit to be dry cleaned. I get back here, and I have to cook a satisfactory Sunday Dinner, and the roast isn't thawed out. Thank the Lord for Flitwick's discussion last year on warming charms, because otherwise ... well, it wouldn't have been well done, and my goose would have been cooked instead.
"Then after dinner, Sirius comes to tell me his brilliant plan to sneak back into Azkaban in order to get his freedom. I swear, my godfather is nuts. Then, Dudley had to bail on helping me finish moving these rocks so he could go out to distract his new girlfriend from the fact that Piers is in a coma. I swear it's been a regular soapbox opera around here.
"And that's just today. Yesterday I found out that my Uncle Vernon hates magic because a Death Eater killed my baby cousin Dahlia weeks before I was left on their doorstep. Now there is a way to meet your nephew. Still grieving over your daughter, and suddenly your magical nephew, magical just like the man who killed your daughter, is literally left on the doorstep with a folded single sheet note explaining that his parents have been killed and you have to raise him.
"No wonder why I lived in a cupboard under the stairs. I mean I kind of liked the place. It was my special place, even before they put the bed in, and I moved down out of Dudley's room. I always wondered why the smallest bedroom wasn't used, but I knew better than to ask. I guess I know now. I found part of the old nursery edging when I was repainting my room. It must have been Dahlia's room for the thirty-three days she was alive. I think it still hurts Aunt Petunia to go into my room."
Harry closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths.
"I used to think that my aunt and uncle hated me without reason. I mean, I lived in the cupboard from age five until just before I left for Hogwarts. When Uncle Vernon broke my door, they replaced it with that one with all the locks and the cat flap. Of course, I just found out this afternoon that Dudley was responsible for half the times I ended up locked in my room."
"Oh Harry," Hermione said, suddenly flinging herself into him, enveloping Harry in a strong hug.
Harry had learnt one thing over the years about Hermione hugging, when Hermione hugs you, resistance is futile. So he let her hold him tight. As he was pressed against her, tighter than usual, he could feel his friend's breasts against his body. Hermione did not have small breasts, nor really large ones. She wasn't wearing a bra. It was a rather nice distraction from the rant he'd just finished, though the hug was beginning to effect him.
Hermione swiftly pulled away. Harry had to wonder if she noticed as the swift ending was atypical. He hoped not. "Now, you know if ..." She trailed off, as Harry nodded. "Good. Now, I really think you should get started on that Transfiguration Essay. Professor McGonagall expects at least six feet."
"Hermione, the only six feet I'm going to be is under, tonight," Harry replied. "If I'm lucky, I will be so tired that I won't even remember You-Know-Who is alive. And maybe, just maybe, since Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia just left, I will get to sleep past seven. Of course with my luck, Dudley will wake me up when he goes for his morning jog. At. Bloody. Five. In. The. Morning."
"Where are your aunt and uncle, anyway?" Hermione asked. "I was looking forward to meeting them."
"It's an interesting story," Harry replied with a smirk. "They're spending the night in the Tower as guests of the Queen."
"Who comes there?"
"The keys."
"Whose keys?"
"Queen Elizabeth's keys."
"Pass Queen Elizabeth's keys. All is well."
"God preserve Queen Elizabeth."
"Amen!"
Vernon Dursley was going to enjoy telling his co-workers of the one part of his overnight in London that he was allowed to. He understood that the hanging was not to be mentioned, and to tell the truth, he really didn't want to talk to anyone about watching Waldron Macnair hang. That was an intensely personal desire that he found a little disturbing in himself.
Vernon had done a lot of soul searching since he had gotten Petunia pregnant again. His appointments with the counselor had forced that on him, and he generally found it to be a good thing. Even as a child, Vernon had a temper that he was struggling to control, and his sister Marge often said that he would hold an opinion long enough to kill it, then mount it up on the wall.
Vernon didn't actually like his sister that much, and once he started to go to Doctor Perks, that had gotten worse. It did not help that she'd visited last Spring, and her dog had bit Petunia. Vernon had threatened to have Ripper put to sleep. In his rant he had even brought up how the dog had chased and bit his nephew Harry. Marge had been beside herself. Doctor Perks had been concerned, but was generally supportive of the gist of the rant.
It was probably a good thing that Vernon had not noticed the picture on Doctor Perks' desk of his daughter Sally-Ann and her classmates until some weeks after that incident. The rant had provided the doctor with an opening to explorer Vernon's behavior towards his nephew. It had been painful. Vernon didn't think that he could ever make up for how he treated his nephew.
It surprised him how well Harry treated him. He had been sure that his break down when Dahlia's killer had been in the paper would have been met with indifference at best by his nephew. Instead, Harry had somehow contacted the Crown and not only arranged for Vernon and Petunia to see the murder's hanging, but arranged transportation to and overnight accommodations in the Tower of London itself.
The arrival of His Royal Highness, the Prince Edward, on Privet Drive had been rather public, though Vernon didn't discover who was their driver until they'd pulled away from the curb in what Vernon had easily identified as an old state car. He'd once seen the Queen Mother arrive at his school in one just like it, if not this one.
It was a great surprise that Prince Edward was a wizard, and if it wasn't for the fact that Vernon was coming to terms with his nephew being a wizard ... and the fact that it was the Queen's son ... he was sure he'd have had an outburst of some type. Maybe not though. Vernon had a lot more respect for the monarch than he had for Major.
After riding with Prince Edward driving, though, Vernon firmly believed that Royals should not be allowed to drive their own car. Prince Edward said he'd put some charms on the Bentley that matched some sort of wizarding transportation know as the Knight Bus, at least that was what Vernon thought Prince Edward said, when the car squeezed between those two slow moving lorries. He would have to ask Harry if he'd ever ridden that bus.
Vernon yawned. It was time to head to bed. He'd be getting up very early tomorrow, and he didn't want to miss that bloody wizard getting what he deserved.
Author's Note:
Updated 8/30/12
Posting was delayed one day, due to one solely "post more soon" review. Post more soon reviews rush authors and are not helpful to readers or the author. Post more soon reviews submitted as Guest reviews will be deleted. So whoever decided to post 3 of them in the last 30 minutes before I updated this ... they are in the bit bucket
Currently in progress is more in the Wizengamot, starring Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Professor Dumbledore, with special guest star, Snowdon.