A/N: Reviews are love. Just for you, a longer chapter.

Chapter 3

Petunia Dursley nee Evans was currently one very stressed housewife, and it seemed whoever it was up there that monitored affairs on earth was being particularly harsh on her of late. Really, a person can only handle a certain amount of shocks in a certain time frame.

Currently, she was staring at a middle aged woman whose appearance all but screamed spinster. She was wearing tartan carpet slippers of all things and had there had clearly been a liberal amount of cat hair shed on her clothes.

"Oh, dear, so sorry about that. Of course you wouldn't remember me," the woman said absentmindedly, not seeming to notice Petunia's impatience. "The name's Arabella Figg, dearie. I live just two streets over, Wisteria Walk. Moved in just a little while ago, to tell you the truth, and I – "

She cut off, finally noticing Dudley, and started cooing. "Oh, isn't he precious! Don't you love children? So sorry, I've just been meaning to thank you for that lovely fruitcake you gave me at my open house."

Dimly, Petunia did recall getting rid of Marge's annual fruitcake this year by giving it away to someone. In her opinion, they were better used as hammers or dog toys than food, but if it took someone malicious to enjoy making a fruitcake, it stood to reason it took someone eccentric to actually enjoy having one.

Returning her attention to the present, she gave this woman her best smile.

"You are completely welcome of course. This is my wonderful son, Dudley. Do you have any of your own?" She preened slightly at the attention as Dudley gave the strange woman a particularly clueless smile.

The Figg woman shuffled her feet slightly, "Can't have any you know. Even if I could, lost my husband to that war."

No matter what else might be said of Petunia Dursley, she was a shrewd woman. While she was not positive what war her neighbor was talking about or even how old she was, it was blatantly obvious that the woman adored children. For once, here was an unexpected call that was to her benefit.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said politely, actually managing to include a bit of regret in her voice. "But you know, if you enjoy children that much, and of course, if it wouldn't be too much of a burden on you, it would be lovely if you could watch the boys for me every once in a while."

"The boys?" Her visitor visibly perked up at this. "Oh two children! Just think of what Sassy will say…."

"Yes, boys. I've recently acquired guardianship of my nephew. My sister and her husband passed away last night. A… a horrible case of drunk driving and a car crash," she made up on the spot. "Whose Sassy?" she inquired further, her nosy side once again peeking out.

"Why, my tabby cat of course," Arabella Figg smiled up at her, then her expression turned to shock and slight horror as she processed the beginning of Petunia's response. "Oh my, that's… how horrible. You poor dear! How are you holding up?"

Petunia blinked at that. Someone was concerned for her? That was almost touching.

"I'm adjusting as best I can," she replied modestly. "It's been a bit difficult, but we are hoping things will get better. We weren't expecting have to take on another child. They're only a little over a month apart in age you know. We're not sure how many of my nephew's belongings can be retrieved from his old house, and it still has to be filed properly with the government and there are so many errands to run." Petunia hung her head, hoping it would be enough to nudge this woman into taking the bait. It was the truth of course, but she needed this woman to feel compassion for her and to make an offer. Her pride would not allow her to ask a stranger for help, but accepting proffered assistance was another matter.

It only took a few moments for a gleam of satisfaction to enter Petunia's eyes as Mrs. Figg realized her hopes quite satisfactorily.

The days passed, quickly turning into months. Neither of the adult Dursleys was positive if they should feel grateful or worried that they never heard from Pettigrew again. It had taken a discussion with a certain dejected Remus Lupin to learn what had happened. Apparently Pettigrew had been serious when he claimed to be planning to intercept the dangerous criminal Sirius Black. Vernon and Petunia refused to read the wizarding newspaper themselves, moving pictures were not natural outside of a theatre. Add to that how unnerving the movement was and the fact they had no reason to order the paper themselves and thus become inured to its strangeness, they simply listened to their… perhaps ally would be the correct term. As far as Remus knew, Peter had managed to rile Sirius enough into attacking, not caring about the muggle witnesses. Peter had indeed succeeded in drawing the attention of Aurors simply by his placement. Destructive spells in front of Muggles did not just threaten the Statute of Secrecy, it flaunted its disregard as publicly as flag burning. Sirius Black had been taken into custody and was summarily sent to Azkaban. The Ministry apparently had to be seen doing something, although no one actually 'saw', it was all hearsay. No one knew what had happened to one Peter Pettigrew. Theories ran rampant as he never resurfaced, even when the Ministry awarded him the Order of Merlin – Third Class. While there were, admittedly, claimed sightings, Remus acknowledged that the wizarding world was quite like their own that way. Fame turned people's heads and some would say just about anything to get their name in print.

That was in the past now. If one were to look at the Dursley's mantelpiece, they would still see the same picture of a pink beach ball with blonde hair, but now there was an accompanying photo of what appeared to be a blond, peach snowman making a snow angel. He was obviously bundled up which only made the figure's midsection more pronounced. The genuinely happy smile made up for this, and just at the edge of the frame, you could see a smaller hand and just a wisp of messy black hair.

It had actually been around the time that photo was taken that Harry had performed the first case of accidental magic that the Dursleys had witnessed. To their utter horror, Vernon's sister Marjorie had been visiting at the time. Harry and Dudley had been tussling as boys were wont to do. Dudley was a bit more enthusiastic than Harry, but Vernon and Petunia had both noted that their scrawny nephew was more than capable of dodging and was a fairly fast runner, with a good endurance to boot.

Either way, both boys had ended up thoroughly soaked from the snow, hands and cheeks chapped red even through their gloves. The two had been shivering something awful. Marge was, of course, no help. All she could do was bluster about how Dudley was shaping up well and wonder about what caused Harry to be so 'sickly think looking' that apparently did not sit well with her. Petunia had been slightly offended as the woman tried to interrogate her about her family's history. As if she thought Harry was a bulldog whose bloodlines should be examined. Honestly, the nerve! That was her family as well, the woman had no tact.

Vernon had told Marge the same story Petunia had given Arabella Figg. That the Potters had been driving home one night and had been crashed into by a drunk driver. Lily and James had passed quickly, but somehow Harry had managed to survive with just that awful scar. Yet still she kept prying, asking for answers Petunia and Vernon did not even know, such as either of their professions or where they had lived and what had happened to the property.

This exchange occurred with an annoying frequency on Marge's visits. The Dursleys could have concocted some easy answer, a slur to please her, but with what Pettigrew had told them about Harry being a hope for both their worlds – well, suffice it to say they had mutually agreed not to lie harmfully about him. This did not make it any easier to sit through for two impatient and uncomfortable boys. Petunia had been making hot chocolate for the two when Marge had snapped a comment about Harry being a weakling and coddling Dudley since he was sniffling. It wasn't that Marge hated her brother's nephew. It was simply that she had no reason to like him. Something about Harry just seemed odd to her, and since she did not know why she got that feeling, his presence irked her.

As all of this was going on and time stretched on, it became clear to both boys that neither was going to be getting that lovely hot chocolate if someone didn't placate the woman soon. Marge had been glaring with her squinty, piggy eyes at 'the runt' and Petunia looking to the heavens for intercession when Harry tilted his head, eyes clearly focused on the two cups of hot chocolate and simply said 'please'.

Needless to say, everyone was astonished when the two cups zoomed to Harry before hovering in front of his eyes. Startled, Harry had accepted the cups and cautiously handed the larger cup to his cousin and poked his own. The three year old stared up at his aunt cautiously and clearly lost.

"Aunt 'Tunia?"

Marge was spluttering. "What kind of abomination are you raising? Is this some kind of sick joke?" She was all but shrieking, much to Petunia's displeasure, no doubt hoping the walls were thick enough that the neighbors wouldn't hear a disturbance and question her about it later. As much as she liked gossip, she loathed being the subject.

Vernon, of all people, was the one to intercede.

"Now Marge, I'm sure there's some sort of explanation…."

Marge rounded on her brother then. "Don't you dare try to insinuate I'm drunk. I've only had two glasses tonight and you know how well I hold my liquor."

That is to say, not at all, Petunia thought rather spitefully. She was amused to note that while Harry was looking startled, Dudley had braved the flying cup and was currently sipping at his hot chocolate. Giving her nephew a nod she turned to her sister-in-law as well.

"I'm sure he wasn't implying that. But maybe there is an explanation."

Where was Remus or Peter when they needed them? She wasn't even sure if they were allowed to tell anyone else about magic. Lily had always said it was to be treated as the utmost secret. That wizarding boy they had met growing up had been reluctant to even talk with Petunia around and she was Lily's sister. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she looked determinedly to her husband who took control of the situation. Vernon quickly steered his sister out of the room with the ease of long practice and eventually left her to draw her own conclusions, but at least she was calm. Vernon knew that Marge was not going to let this go. His sister was quite like the bulldogs she raised that way. He just hoped that when she came with her own, no doubt wild, theory that they would have a decent explanation or excuse of their own. No need to get anymore of that lot involved with his family than necessary.

It took very little time to secure a meeting with Remus Lupin. The Dursleys chose to leave the boys at Mrs. Figg's house, wanting a guardian around and not trusting the two three year olds to remain occupied in their own room. As much as Dudley and Harry both complained about how boring it was to stare at pictures of cats, neither adult wanted to bring the children along when they were discussing something so important. Not to mention the fact they were still uneasy about it all. Vernon Dursley took his job to protect his family very seriously though. While Harry was not directly family, protecting Harry directly served to protect his family, and that made everything okay. Petunia was edgy around magic, but that did not mean she wouldn't do what was necessary.

And so there they were, at a little café in downtown London, hoping for answers. Answers they were grateful to accept, even in the form of someone they would rather have a phone's distance between. Despite Peter's assurance that magic wasn't 'catching', being near a man who had been friends with those who had tormented her growing up stretched Petunia's – and through her, Vernon's – trust to the limit.

They managed to walk away from that meeting still confused but with the feeling something important had been accomplished. It had been mutually agreed to just let Marge have her theories. With any luck, she might even let it go as a trick of the light or even a funny dream.

They had also decided to have a sit down with the boys. While Peter's warning that Harry needed to be in touch with his magic had led them to the conclusion they shouldn't punish Harry and allow him to believe his magic in and of itself was wrong, they did not want him to just go around performing magic as he saw fit. Remus had explained it wasn't very controlled at his age, but best start somewhere. Reinforcement ought to do something to minimize the rubbish those gossipmongers would come up with (Petunia excused herself from this group of course).

Vernon and Petunia arrived at Mrs. Figg's house to find the woman having a conversation with a cat.

"Mad, that one is," Vernon and mumbled to his wife before striding to the living room where, predictably, he found his son in front of the telly. His nephew was a bit preoccupied edging away from one of the lady's cats – and just how many did she have anyway? Clearing his throat, Vernon made it known to the boys that it was time to leave. Dudley seemed a bit put out until he realized the channel had gone to commercial, and Harry seemed rather grateful.

Chuckling to himself, Vernon ushered the two boys outside where they joined Petunia – who had finished thanking Arabella – before driving home.

Time continued to pass as it always has. The boys grew and Petunia began to teach them their letters and numbers. She had also started to have both boys help out around the house, simple things for the most part, such as fetching the right foods from the pantry or putting all of their toys away. Vernon and Petunia had been debating whether or not to give the boys their own room so that there would be a sense of responsibility directly applied to each. At the moment, Harry and Dudley were sleeping together in a bunk bed (Harry had the top because he was nimblest and Dudley was leery of falling). Neither of the boys had complained as of yet though, so it was decided to let matters rest.

Dudley had acquired quite the range of toys and books by this time. He was bored for the most part with the books, although he liked looking at the pictures. Harry seemed more interested in them, and Vernon had even seen his nephew trying to read it out loud. He had been angry at first that a child they had taken in out of the goodness of their hearts was stealing from his son – until he saw said son listening raptly, his attention firmly on the pages. This was the week he and Petunia had grounded Dudley from the telly or the computer since he had knocked it over in a petulant fit for some reason. Now that he knew Harry was just trying to keep Dudley entertained, well, he decided to mention it to Pet and see if they couldn't get some more books Dudley would enjoy hearing about. He thought dinosaurs or comics or cars would be good starting points. Harry had been reading "The Little Engine that Could", and Vernon – while not a man who thought much of intellect – did recognize that certain manly things were good influences.

Every once in a while, Petunia and Vernon would wonder why Harry never received any gifts or well wishes. Given that he was supposedly famous in that world, they had at the least expected some sort of outpour on Halloween. Not that they were not happy to get out of dealing with those flying pigeons that they used, but it didn't quite sit well with them. Dudley wasn't the most sharing boy, save for books since Harry was picking up the arduous task of reading faster and he enjoyed all forms of entertainment that did not require to work. Yet it was Dudley who received gifts regularly not all from them, and more each year it seemed like. While the Dursleys were receiving a stipend from the government to assist in raising Harry (thanks to small favors like Lily having given birth to him in a normal hospital with a then perfectly accurate birth certificate), the fact was money was still stretched a bit thin. This wasn't to say the Dursleys neglected Harry in any way, but the boy never did say what he liked. He would talk about flying motorcycles and brooms and several other unnatural things, but nothing they could get their hands on.

Harry was satisfied enough for now with some toy knight figures Dudley had cast away and with sharing Dudley's books. He had some toys from when he was small, and whenever he visited Remus (something the Dursleys had reluctantly allowed when it was decided a 'magic' atmosphere to contrast with their normal one might help to calm his accidental magic impulses) he was allowed to play with his stranger toys. Toys like a dragon that would beat its wings and crane its neck back and forth and a large, plush golden sphere with wings Remus had once said was called a snitch. Every once in a while, Petunia or Vernon or Dudley would catch Harry zooming around their kitchen and pretending to fly on their broom handle, but no one said anything. Petunia, because she could remember doing the same thing with her friends when she was younger before she had discovered magic was real and not a silly fantasy. Vernon said nothing because he could care less as long as Harry waited to do so until after he had finished sweeping and the boy wasn't actually levitating. Dudley didn't say anything because the one time he had pushed his cousin about it, Harry had refused to read to him until he apologized.

The summer both boys turned four would mark a change in the nice, organized life of the Dursley household. Not because Vernon got promoted, although he did, and not because Petunia was finally accepted among the quibbling backstabbing women of Privet drive, although she was, and not even because Dudley's attention was, for once in his life, completely enraptured by something other than TV programming when the telly was on, although, of course, he was. It did, however, have very much to do with the fact that two weeks after they had celebrated Dudley's birthday a man that only seemed slightly familiar approached the door to Number 4, Privet Drive and rang the bell, calm as you please.

He was a man that brought new meaning to the term short and stout. There was a haunted look in his eyes, and for all the fact it was clear he wasn't very far into his twenties, he was partially bald and had the haggard expression of someone who had experienced true horrors. Not very different from the expression one Remus Lupin bore, come to think of it. There were a few laugh lines, and he definitely did not exude any threatening presence, but the wickedly sharp metal hook that extruded from his right hand did keep most curious busybodies at a healthy distance.

The man had arrived around dusk, just after dinner time and was loaded down with packages and letters that he was currently keeping in duffel bags and under water proof covers to protect them from the near constant rain.

As surprised as the Dursleys were to have a caller at this hour, their visitor was just as surprised when he saw two very small boys peeking through the window to see who he was. The door was actually answered by the gruff and mildly hostile man of the house.

"Hello, Dursley," the stranger said politely. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Vernon squinted his eyes in what was meant to be a threatening way at the stranger. His chest was puffed out now in an attempt (an unnecessary attempt I might add) to appear larger and more dangerous.

"I don't know who gave you the idea, but this is a home, not a motel, sir. And just how do you know my name?" He said distrustfully.

The man left outside sighed a bit. "I understand it's been a while, Dursley. I never meant to be gone for this long, especially not for years. But what with this – "he lifted his hooked arm, "and some chaotic repercussions with my…," he trailed off, wincing a little, "I realize this isn't the best place to discuss this. The last time we talked was November 1st, 1980 and we talked about several sensitive subjects before I vanished, as it were, from society."

Vernon's eyes widened, as did the two boys who were nearby eavesdropping. He stepped back, letting Pettigrew in after scanning his face and noting the rat-like similarities he had somehow missed before.

"Pet, we have a visitor!" He announced calmly, closing and locking the door after the man had come in. Knowing his wife well, he also secured the blinds. Since it was night time, it even made sense to do so, an unexpected boon in Petunia's mind.

"Boys, go to your room. Now, and no dawdling." Vernon ordered abruptly. The four year old and almost four year old both pouted but nevertheless obeyed.

"Who is it, dear?" Petunia queried as she made her way to the foyer. When her gaze fell upon Peter, she grew pale. "Well this is a surprise." Noting the bags as well as the hook, she looked to Vernon then Pettigrew.

Peter looked a bit pleased that Petunia recognized him at least. He waited until the two boys had trooped upstairs and he could hear the door click shut before saying anything.

As one, the three turned to each other. Or rather, Petunia and Vernon turned to Pettigrew and a slightly nervous Peter was looking between both of them.

"Perhaps we should sit down?" He offered tentatively, not quite sure how to begin.

Exchanging a look with her husband, Petunia nodded, and turned on a bit of her 'gracious hostess' mode.

"An excellent suggestion, let's move to the living room, shall we?"

Petunia prepared some tea while Vernon and Pettigrew sat rather stiffly across from one another. After asking Pettigrew how he liked his tea and passing a cup of tea to him as well as her husband, Petunia sat down daintily on the couch next to Vernon and blew some of the steam off her own hot cup.

"Now," she said pleasantly, "If it isn't too presumptuous of me, I do wonder where you've been. I thought you said you wanted to be part of Harold's life. To help him, yet we have all been under the impression you were quite probably dead."

Peter sighed at this, setting his cup down on the saucer Petunia had provided.

"I see you have at least gotten in touch with Remus. I had hoped as much. Let me tell you a story then, one I have yet to tell him, even though he is my last remaining true friend. I think as Harry's guardians you are owed the truth first.

"I found Sirius that day. I don't know what provoked me to do something so foolhardy, normally that's Sirius' specialty. It was just like… there was a fire lit inside me and I knew that I had to do something! As much as I care for Remus, he would have been more concerned with questions like 'Why did you do it?" and 'How could you?'. I didn't care about any of that, it didn't matter. I just wanted to give him what for, and make sure he got justice for what he had done."

Peter shook his head at his own folly, taking a sip of tea shortly after.

"I was shaking the whole time, scared out of my wits but furiously angry just the same. I kept taunting him and I yelled at him, asking how he could betray James and Lily. Eventually, he snapped and threw some sort of curse at me." He paused thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure what it was, but it struck my wand hand and completely obliterated both my hand and my wand before exploding the street around us.

"The Aurors came, but not after at least thirteen people were killed from the blast. It was awful. I couldn't figure out why he would do something so foolish except, well… Sirius was often harebrained in his tactics. Whatever he had used, I was bleeding severely, and all that was left of my wand hand was a finger, and THAT was lying on the ground.

"I got away in the confusion. Or I thought I had, ran smack dab into someone from the Order – the group I told you about back then that fought against the Dark Lord. He got me to safety, and a bit of healing, however outdated. I would have called or come to visit before, but my magic was wild. Any technology around me died and my magic saw most other magics as a threat to my own, so it was slow going. I came as soon as I was able though."

He perked up suddenly, "And I brought some of Harry's fan mail. Or rather, his presents as well as some I and a few members of the Order had bought. I hope that's alright, only his birthday is coming up, and I thought it might be okay."

Petunia and Vernon were gob smacked at this story, and thus, it was only Peter who was left to pretend he hadn't heard to boyish squeals at the top of the staircase from their listeners.

"I've got presents?" Harry whispered excitedly to his cousin. "Awesome, then I don't have to share with you anymore, 'cept for books and stuff and we can both play at the same time!"

Dudley was looking pleased as well, although a bit confused.

"Why would a fan want to give you mail? How could they, the things don't even move, Harry. Well, they do, but only in a circle."

"You think maybe we heard wrong?"

Dudley thought about this for a bit, which was not quite as much hard work as it would have been had he grown up focusing his attention on loathing Harry instead of actually talking to him.

"Yeah, that must've been it. It's pretty hard to make out anything from the living room up here anyway."

Hearing one of the adults stand up – probably Uncle Vernon, Harry guessed from the sound – the two scrambled back to their room, chatting excitedly as they did so. Neither felt any guilt whatsoever from having listened in. If they weren't meant to hear it, well, it wasn't their fault the adults talked so loudly. Besides, as Harry had once put it to his cousin, they were told to go to there room, not how long they had to stay there.

Both were still young enough that there was no 'normal' view of reality to them. While Harry did visit Remus and was occasionally accompanied by Dudley (when his parents were busy and he begged them not to make him go to Figg's), they both thought that the magical things they had seen all had some explanation. Batteries or sensors or something along those lines, perhaps. Even when Harry performed accidental magic, he did not think it was actually him causing the strange things to happen. Harry only looked at them as bizarre occurrences that quickly faded out of memory, unless of course, his aunt or uncle were around in which case there was a warning glance and he was steered to some other activity immediately. That or he was sent to Mr. Lupin's house.

The time was coming soon when Harry and Dudley would learn the truth, but for now, they settled in while Harry pulled out his toy knights and Dudley his army men and they began to dictate and play out an epic battle on the carpet of their shared bedroom.