A/N: Thank you so much for your responses! I was a little shocked to see email notifications so quickly to tell you the truth. It was rather dazzling.

On with the story!

Chapter 2

It was a rather quiet breakfast for the Dursley household that morning, what with Petunia looking askance at her nephew and fretting about her own son and all of the things that had just been dumped on their plates. A small part of her was also wondering over the mention of a prophecy, but the man had said he hoped to visit, so she could ask then. Failing that, they had the phone number for the bookish one. She was also wondering what the neighbors would think about them having another charge so unexpectedly. Hopefully no one would think Harry was the result of a dalliance by Vernon. But then, how could they? The boy looked nothing like either of them. Ah well, they'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it. The real question was where were they going to get all of the baby things needed for Harry. If only she had thought to ask… well, maybe she would call that Remus fellow today when she set the boys down for a nap. Yes, that would do. Harry could certainly survive using Dudley's things for a little while. After all, Dudders had outgrown quite a few sets of clothing and there were a few toys he had never taken to.

Vernon was not thinking quite so deeply. He was pondering today's business deals and how many drills he could hope to sell. Vernon was also rather entertained by Dudley's practicing of his new word 'want'. He just hoped the little tyke adjusted to having his cousin around alright.

To be honest, his ego had been a bit puffed up from their conversation with Peter. His family was safer than even those freaks could make themselves according to the fre- well, that wasn't fair. He'd been as normal as he could, Vernon thought charitably. That didn't mean he liked them, but then, he didn't like most normal people. Yelling at people in general was one of his favorite hobbies; it served to prove his superiority.

Though he didn't know it, a small change in Vernon's thinking began at that moment. The separation of Peter from the classification of freak despite his ability to wield magic would have his subconscious working overtime in the days to come. It was the start of magic not being the classification of a 'freak' but the spiteful and malicious use of power over his family. After all, Vernon had not known of magic as a reality before he met Petunia. He had always considered it a fairy tale, nice enough in stories but dangerous nonsense in practice. Mostly because it was only crazies who really thought magic was possible. All that mystic mumbo jumbo required a lack of common sense and far too much imagination. Then, he heard all of Petunia's stories of their wretchedness. He had been disgusted and more than a bit frightened. However, those with magic were on his family's – and therefore his – side, well, that couldn't be too bad could it? After all, the only unfair advantage was the one he did not himself have.

Scraping the last bit of bacon off his plate, Vernon straightened his collar and kissed his wife's cheek, oblivious to the hallmark of thought he had just achieved.

"Well, I'm off to the office. I'll see you when I get home."

Petunia nodded absently, not even noticing the door swing shut with a soft click of the lock. She was momentarily startled by the sound of the car revving up, but soon went back to her self assigned task of cleaning up the kitchen and soaking the nipples for the two boys' bottles in hot water to sanitize them.

Currently, Petunia was debating whether or not it would be considered rude to call someone the day after their good friends had been betrayed to death in order to ask for their help. She was leaning towards it being acceptable in this situation. After all, she was related to one of the two casualties.

Yes, she supposed casualty was the right term for it. That dark powered freak might have killed them himself, but from what she had just been told, it had been part of an ongoing war.

Figures her sister would go and get herself involved in a war and not even tell her about it, was Petunia's rather uncharitable thought. She softened somewhat though, wondering if perhaps the reason her sister had become distant from her was from some misguided attempt to protect her. While Petunia herself had stayed away because of that vile Black boy and the strange, intense Snape chap she still held a grudge against all these years, Lily herself was a force to be reckoned with, and she had backed down as well. Petunia had always thought it was because Lily had sided with Black and the others over her, but perhaps she could hope it was simply that her little sister had taken someone else's means and put them to her own ends.

Sighing a bit, Petunia shook off her musings and grabbed a pad and pencil. She was going to have an awful lot to do today, not to mention from until the two could start caring for themselves more. What with two little ones a house and a husband to take care of, her work was cut out for her. Petunia just hoped they still had those diapers Dudley had outgrown. Harry was much smaller, not at all as healthy looking as Dudley. She decided that was to be expected given the age difference and how scrawny Lily had said James was when he was younger. With that worry pushed aside, she decided to prioritize the jobs she needed to accomplish, and precisely what they could afford.

Meanwhile, in a small apartment building on the outskirts of a barely respectable town, there resided a thin, scarred man who had just recently had to accept that his entire world had been turned upside down. Right now, he was still in the denial stage. The world looked too bright, the peace too surreal for it to be true.

Unfortunately for this man, it was that self same peace that was forcing him to accept the unwelcome truth. None of it made any sense though. How could James and Lily be dead? Heck, how could have Harry stopped Voldemort? Harry, the little one he had bounced on his knee just a week ago, whose first word had been 'Pa' to James' delight and who enjoyed telling Pa'foot to play.

And Merlin, how could Sirius have done this? They were like brothers. How could he have smiled and laughed with them all knowing their days were numbered and that he would soon betray them all to his filthy master. Voldemort was everything Sirius had ever proclaimed to abhor. He had despised all Slytherins on principle, or at least that was how it seemed. Remus' thought trailed off, wondering how Sirius had been able to fool them all. Had he been dark all along? Or had Voldemort offered him something that he could not resist?

Unable to think of what Sirius could ever want so much that he could not come by it honestly, Remus simply sighed. For the first time, he wondered how Peter was holding up. He had been so preoccupied with the news, it had not even occurred to him to worry for his one remaining true friend. The man felt rather guilty at this, which in addition to the growing anger at his now ex-best friend did nothing to help his mood.

To make matters worse, Dumbledore had sent him an owl a few hours before telling him that under no circumstances should he approach Harry. This was not an attempt of manipulation of Dumbledore's part, nor was it intended to be cruel. Albus Dumbledore was simply very aware, despite the number who thought him ignorant, how much the Dursley's prided themselves on their independence and normalcy. In the old Headmaster's mind, it was only polite to wait until invited, and this was, in effect, what he asked everyone to follow. There would be no visits to Harry without being invited first by his guardians. This way, Dumbledore hoped to soothe some of the Dursley's apprehension about raising a magical child. There was no call to make them feel threatened in their own home.

Sadly, Dumbledore had done that already by just dropping a child off on them with no offer of help and no chance of recourse. There is a reason they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Never matter that though, because while everyone makes mistakes, this particular one had been resolved as much as it could be. And truly, there were not many options to begin with. Who knows, perhaps the timing of Harry's arrival as a ward of the Dursley's had something to do with how well the blood wards worked. No one but Dumbledore knew the truth to that, as he was the one to place them, and the man wasn't telling.

Unbeknownst to a certain sandy haired young man with a few streaks of grey in his hair caused by the stress of his condition, his life was about to make another unexpected swerve, and he was about to be interrupted by a quite unanticipated call.

Remus had just been convincing himself to wash his face of the salt and floo Peter. He didn't know what they could do – James and Sirius had always been the ringleaders. In truth, he and Peter were much more followers, both going along simply because of their need to be accepted. Remus, for all his book smarts, had never had to develop the courage to stand on his own. As for Peter, well, he had not had the chance to grow into any sort of independence, since he was put down so often. However good natured a slight might be phrased, it still cuts, leaving its own sort of mark behind on its victim's psyche.

But before he could follow through on his plan, Remus was shocked by the shrill sound of ringing that came from the muggle telephone he had installed. Shocked and with hands still slightly wet, the sandy haired twenty one year old picked up the receiver. Clearing his throat tentatively, he finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Hello?"

He could hear a young voice saying something demandingly in the background, and a faint gurgle of another youngster, but no sound of his actual caller. Well, probably not a response to one of his job applications then. He decided to try again.

"You've reached Remus Lupin, can I help you?"

"Yes, yes. This is Petunia Dursley, and I was wondering – Dudley dear don't taunt your cousin so, Harry don't – " there was the sound of the phone cord being stretched as Petunia moved one of the children away from the other before turning her attention back to the phone. "I'm sorry about that. I was given your number."

She was? Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that. Remus wondered quietly, listening to the woman whose voice he had only associated with negative memories, aside from a bit of helpful advice.

"By whom, if you don't mind me inquiring?"

"Your nice friend," the voice answered primly. "Pettigrew explained some things to us before heading off to try and corner that good for nothing betraying freak."

Remus choked. If it was possible, Petunia had just knocked the wind out of him with that one statement.

If it was not possible, whatever happened was certainly simulating that effect extremely well. Peter was going after Sirius? PETER? Rapidly, he forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. Must help Harry.

"Do you… do you need something? Does Harry need something? I don't have a lot of money, but for Harry…."

Unspoken was the sentiment that he would be willing to do just about anything for the son of two of his best friends.

"I wouldn't ask you to buy anything," Petunia spoke over the phone, sounding almost scandalized. Dursleys definitely did not accept charity of any sort. "I was just wondering if there was anything of Harry's that could be moved here. That Dumbledore man just left him here in a basket – not even a proper infant's seat. We weren't exactly prepared for having another child quite so soon and with such little notice, you know."

"Ah, of course." Remus said understandingly, "Well, from what I understand, the Potter's house was fairly well destroyed. I can pop by and see. A few of us have things for him at out homes, just so we were prepared when we babysat him. Would it be alright if I came by after? Or would you prefer me to call?"

Judging by the silence on the other side of the line, Petunia was pondering this.

"Go ahead and call. I can give you the address now, but I'll need to talk to Vernon so he can be here when you come. I may not think you're completely untrustworthy, but I do not want any of that abnormal magic nonsense in my house. Peter said that won't be a problem."

Her last sentence clearly said that he had better agree as well, and Remus had to smile at his.

"Of course, there is no problem. I'm happy enough just being able to help Harry."

"Good," was the relieved reply before Petunia gave him her address and their house phone number.

"Alright, thank you, Mrs. Dursley," Remus said politely. To his amusement, Petunia laughed slightly.

"I'm not THAT much older than you, you know."

"I do," the sandy haired man agreed. "Certain niceties should always be observed though."

On the other end of the line, Petunia nodded satisfactorily. "I quite agree. I'm off to buy a few things for the boys."

After listening to the strictly polite farewell, Petunia hung up the phone and crossed an item off her list of things to do and turned her attention to what she needed to acquire.

Item number one on her list was a double stroller. Dudley was becoming much fussier without his normal walk, but she didn't want to be accused of neglecting Harry by not bringing him along. Well, that, and she did not want to lose the only remaining link she had with her sister.

The long necked woman did grimace a bit when she realized just how much this trip was going to cost. Still, there were some things that they simply needed and she couldn't count on all of Harry's things to have survived. At the same time, since she did not herself already have a double stroller; the young mother was at a loss as to how actually go buy the thing. Someone was going to have to watch the children, and she knew very well that asking Vernon to do so would not end well. Not that he had minded watching his own child, but Harry might very well end up behind the couch or in the cupboard under the stairs.

There was no arguing with Vernon when he got an idea into his head. Most of the time, Petunia did not care to anyway. They saw eye to eye on most things, and she preferred to support him as he had always done for her.

Just when she was debating whether to ask the stuffy old matriarch at Number 7 or the greedy teenaged girl who was always trying to get money for shoes or smokes at Number 3 there was a knock on the front door.

At a loss as to what made her family the focus of so much sudden attention, Petunia squinted to try and see through the peep hole before slowly opening the door, Dudley now resting on her hip.

"Have we met?"