A/N: Once again, I thank you for your reviews. They make me smile.

Chapter 5:

The twenty fifth day of July began on a bright note for the members of Number 4. This was a good thing as the rest of the day was in question at the moment. Vernon's sister Marjorie was coming over to celebrate her 'precious neffypoo's' fourth birthday. Dudley wasn't overly thrilled about having to spend time with the woman, but at least he would get more presents. This was the thought that got him through the morning. Harry had been quiet and a bit withdrawn, giving Dudley little to do other than watch the telly.

Dudley wasn't the only one to notice this though. Petunia also noted her nephew almost moping as he ate his breakfast. In a way it was exasperating, but it was also a little touching, given that her nephew and son had been inseparable the past few days trying to set up the train track in the room next to their bedroom. It had taken some convincing, but Petunia had allowed them to sway her to use that room not as a second bedroom but as a toy room of sorts for the two boys to share. They did have enough toys now that it was difficult to store in their own room, and they both had frantically argued against splitting up, so it did seem to be the best way.

Today though, the train project had grinded to a halt since Harry was going over to Mrs. Figg's house. Couldn't be helped though, and at least he would be able to take some books or puzzles over to keep him occupied. She had even overheard him considering whether it would be worth it to see if the woman would play checkers with him.

Checking the clock, Petunia managed to bustle Harry into proper clothes and over to Wisteria Walk a good half hour before Marge was scheduled to be picked up from the airport. Better safe than sorry given you never knew when a plane would arrive precisely.

When Vernon returned with his sister, Petunia could only sigh at the discovery Marge had seen fit to bring a bulldog pup with her. It turns out that Marge didn't trust her neighbor's ability to train the pup, and she had grown rather fond of him as well. (Colonel Fubster looked after her dogs and was an alright chap, but training bulldogs can be tricky business). The bulldog was named Ripper for whatever reason; Petunia just hoped that it wasn't for how the dog reacted to furniture. Marge's cryptic comment of the name referring to his budding ability as a guard dog wasn't really reassuring either.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Marge's first words in the door were not to demand an explanation for the long put off question. Unfortunately for Dudley, it was to greet him, and her first action was to throw her arms around the poor boy and almost squeeze the life out of him.

She gave him some expensive gadget Dudley was rather curious to figure out and dumped a dilapidated dictionary on the smaller sofa seat for Harry. At least it wasn't dog biscuits.

Petunia and Vernon managed to avoid the issue at hand until after lunch, which had the unfortunate side effect of Marge being inebriated, but the plus side that Dudley was happily occupied by the television set. It began bluntly and to the point.

"Now, tell me what this is all about. That display of your nephew's has to have some sort of reason. It was downright freakish."

"You want the truth, Marge, we don't understand it either," Vernon told her, taking a deep swig of his wine right after.

Petunia sighed at this before making her own contribution, "We haven't come up with any theory that really makes sense. Obviously he isn't possessed or a devil or any of the more archaic religious implications of that oddity – we go to Church, and the boy uses holy water just as regularly as anyone else. But that doesn't explain what did happen.

"It could be something as bizarre as a ghost, if you believe in such fanciful things." Her disdainful tone made it clear she wa above such petty assumptions. "We had a friend of Harry's father's mention teleka something – what was that word, telekesis? Telekinesis? Anyway it didn't make much sense. Although, I do remember when I was considering studying for a nursing degree… there was a statement about how as humans we only use ten percent of our brain, and debate about what we could do if we could tap in to any of that remaining ninety percent.

"Now, I don't remember if that was a theory or a fact, but I think it ties into the teleka whatever."

"Which is what, precisely?"

"An odd talent some people have for affecting the normal world with their mind. I don't put much stock into it myself, but right now it's the only theory I've heard that's plausible. Unless you have a better one? Maybe between the three of us, we'll actually figure out what it is."

Finishing her spiel, Petunia monitored the large woman closely before leaning back with a pleased expression. She had noted the hard dangerous look in the woman's piggy eyes fade, and the harshness of her bark had changed from anger to self driven determination.

"Well, that sounds like a load of rubbish. Makes about as much sense as me hallucinating what happened. I'll ask Colonel Fubster. He's a good military man, I'm sure he'll come up with something much more sensible than your telly thingy."

Marge was free to puzzle over the strangeness of her brother's nephew – and mutilate the word telekinesis – all she wished. Not to mention, it gave Marge something to focus on other than criticizing the quality of Petunia's cooking. The woman would no doubt give up eventually since as much as she did not like things not fitting into her nice, orderly little world, she also was not about to suggest a reason unless there was proof behind it. Marge didn't let anyone make a fool of her, not even herself.

No matter what happened, Petunia and her husband hadn't broken any sort of statute of secrecy by telling her themselves, and this would keep her safely occupied for as long as the issue remained in her mind. This could take months, years, or only a week or two, depending on her success rate.

Giving herself a mental pat on the back for a job well done, Petunia sank back into her chair – not to imply that she slouched, for a proper, polite genteel woman does not break the rules of decorum so extravagantly – and simply relaxed throughout the rest of the visit. Vernon guided the conversation from that point forward.

At seven o' clock, Marge left with Vernon, taking with her that odd dog that seemed torn between subservience and inspecting every living thing in sight hostilely. At fifteen past the hour, the no longer temporarily exiled Harry returned, looking quite pleased to be back. Petunia was not particularly surprised that after thanking her, his first act was to see out Dudley and begin comparing notes on each other's days. All she really caught from Harry was something about some strange cat had been more relaxed this time and had sat next to him while he read. It hardly seemed worth bubbling about, but then, he was still a little boy. Logic often missed them at that age.

So instead of commenting at all, she simply announced when dinner would be ready (roughly half an hour after she expected Vernon to return) and left them to their play.

Later that night found the two cousins up in their toy room once more. Only this time, instead of focusing on the train set, they had switched their play to the plastic tool set. Dudley was enjoying hammering almost everything in the room (except for said train set, which Harry just stopped him from smashing). Harry was more preoccupied trying to figure out what each thing was, so it comes as no surprise then, that it was Dudley's actions that drew the attention of his parents.

Vernon was the one who came up to check on the two miscreants as Pet was starting to get a slight headache from all the knocking – Dudley was putting a bit more weight than necessary into his swings.

"What's all this then?" He demanded shortly, squinting into the room.

Dudley paused in mid swing as his father came in and gave a cheerful grin.

"Playing. You wanna join us?"

Harry looked up at this moment and looked towards the doorway hopefully.

"Uncle Vernon, will you tell me which one of these is a drill? Only Dudley and I think it must be the best cause that's what you sell. But we've only figured out the hammer and the screwdriver right now."

He waved the yellow plastic screwdriver in his hand towards Dudley who was currently holding an orange tipped blue handled plastic hammer.

"And we think the red thing is a wrench of some sort, but we're not sure…."

All this left Vernon looking dumbfounded at the door. Clearing his throat, he turned back towards the staircase and announced to Petunia that nothing was wrong before walking into the toy room where the two boys were. He felt pretty important right now as both boys looked to him hopefully. What was that Harry said? They both thought drills must be best. Why? Because of those were the tools he sold! Chuckling to himself and with ego thus inflated by the expression in his son's and nephew's gaze he began his lecture.

"Alright then," he said gruffly. "I guess I did promise to go over these with you. Now this right here," he picked up the red plastic tool Harry had been puzzling over, "is called a monkey wrench."

Needless to say, both cousins actually enjoyed the lesson as Vernon walked them through on the names and the purpose of each of them. Vernon was quite pleased with his son's interest in particular. It was a new experience for the man, actually being able to teach something to the two. And though the lesson did not go completely smoothly, what with the boys fighting occasionally over who could practice with what, the quarrels were fairly easily resolved and attention restored. In Vernon's mind, what he was telling them appeared to be more interesting than their own squabbles, and for once, Vernon's assessment proved to be an accurate one.

Over the course of the next few days, the three men (speaking loosely here) in the Dursley household actually developed a rapport of sorts. Every night after supper had finished and after Harry had assisted with the clean up (since Dudley helped prepare the meals, given his greater interest in food than Harry), they all met in the toy room for at least half an hour. Vernon helped them figure out how to operate the train set, learn to use the walkie talkies, or just regaled them with stories of his prowess at Grunnings while one of the boys built a city from Lincoln Logs and the other tried to knock it down faster than it could be built with the hammer. At first the weapon of choice for city destruction had been the tonka trucks, but that was just too easy, so it could only be brought in for reinforcements if the city got too large. Which, really, only happened once, and that was when the 'destroyer' had become overly distracted with Vernon's story of the night.

After that half hour, Vernon went back downstairs to watch the news with Petunia, leaving the boys to either continue playing or clean up and head to their bedroom. Believe it or not, this did happen occasionally, since like most little children and adults alike, Harry and Dudley easily became bored with the same routine.

It was for this reason that they would occasionally experiment with trying the every flavour beans. Harry even went so far as to start a record of all the flavours they had tried thus far. Albeit it was all but chicken scratch and immensely misspelled, the idea behind it had merit. Enough that Petunia was convinced to help coach them in writing. Dudley was a proponent of this as he and Harry were now competing for the largest number of flavours tasted. Petunia agreed mostly because the thought of her son being viewed as gifted in school was too much to resist.

Along with that, Harry made his stumbling way through "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" as well as the comic book – that he and Dudley both agreed was ridiculous, if somewhat entertaining. The only thing that particular comic inspired in them was a desire to try and wheedle their guardians to let them read real comics, with superheroes and stuff like the Marvel ones.

This routine was broken once more the morning of the 31st. Harry was finally four – a fact that Dudley had been lording over him for a while since he was 'oldest' and therefore 'the boss' according to him. Even more exciting, today was their shared party. Aunt Petunia had invited several boys in the neighborhood to come over, and while she did focus mostly on Dudley she did not neglect Harry either. So while Dudley chose the games, Harry got to pick the food as it was being held on his birthday.

A woman named Yvonne came over early in the morning just after breakfast in order to help Petunia get ready. Yvonne was a friend of Petunia's from high school and knew her well, although she had never really met Lily aside from a brief sight of red hair and green eyes.

The party was to be held outdoors – partially to keep sugared boys from destroying her home and partially because Petunia liked to advertise her 'pride and joy' Dudley as well as how good of a person she was with Harry. Even better, she had an excuse for it that would keep even that snappy woman at Number 7 quiet, Dudley had asked for a water balloon fight. Well, you couldn't hold that inside, now could you? There was also to be musical statues with the assistance of Yvonne's boom box and she and Vernon had at length decided to purchase a piñata for the occasion as well.

Refreshments were fairly simple. Harry had asked for chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and dark cherry jell-o. Petunia had mixed some punch and at Dudley's quiet request, she had added candy floss to the mix. It was a bit extravagant considering how few had been specifically invited, but she knew very well how large of an appetite her son had. Every once in a while she was concerned at Harry's lack of hunger in comparison, and that was why she had plotted to serve his favorite pudding tonight at dinner. It wasn't her precious Duddlykins favorite, but he and Vernon liked it well enough. Besides, if she didn't treat her nephew on his own birthday, well, when could she? This didn't mean she liked him or had fully resolved her issues with his parents and the whole issue of magic, but at the same time… well, he was useful and his presence was growing on her.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she dialed Remus' and reminded him (and through him, Peter) that the party was to be held outdoors. Harry didn't need more trouble 'magic' related, and she wanted Dudley's party to be perfect. Oh… and Harry's too of course.

Once the family had been fed a hearty breakfast of cheese and ham omelots stuffed with green peppers and onions served with orange juice and assorted muffins (from blueberry to chocolate to poppy seed), they split up to their assigned tasks. Petunia had delegated the night before and had brooked no argument from any quarter. For Vernon, it had only taken a slight reminder that this party would make Dudley happy. For the boys, no reinforcement was required.

Harry and Dudley had the, apparently enjoyable, task of filling the water balloons while Vernon hauled out enough chairs for musical statues outdoors and arranged them in an almost circle. In all accuracy, it was closer to an ellipse, but no one required perfect geometry. Yvonne and Petunia set to work on the remaining food preparations and managed to finish just as Vernon finished placing the buffet table outside under an umbrella. The table wasn't fancily decorated, although there was a tablecloth that the two boys had decorated themselves with their own… erm, art. Squiggles and lines for the most part.

Soon enough, the guests began to arrive, not all at once in a swarm, but sedately, almost as if they had happened along. Petunia had seen fit to invite several of the boys that lived on Magnolia Crescent as well as Privet Drive. Harry and Dudley, both curious as to who was coming waited next to Petunia – not quite hiding in her skirts. There was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat, a timid little brown boy who only seemed to gain confidence when his mother left, and a bored looking redhead who had chosen to attend while wearing a jersey and basketball shorts much to his guardian's barely concealed dismay.

All in all, the mix and meet portion of the party was fairly uneventful. They had all met while wandering through the neighborhood at various points before this, but the birthday party was the first 'official' meeting. If it seemed like a strange way to celebrate the birth of two boys by inviting virtual strangers over, consider that many parties for the younger ages are really just as much for the adults as they are for the children beneficiaries.

It wasn't until Rat boy made a disparaging comment about Mr. Lupin that the party became really interesting at all. What ensued was a massive water balloon war in which Dudley and Harry pelted and soundly beat one Piers Polkiss (who had been trying to start a water balloon fight and vastly underestimated his agitation of his opponents). Once the furor calmed down, the other boys and some of the adults – read the Marauders here – joined in the fray and great fun was had by all. It turned out that the once timid boy was named Gordon and the sports enthusiast was named Dennis, or as he introduced himself -Menace. The small group reached a tentative connection at the end of the fight. Not really out of the norm all things considered, many if not most children tend to befriend those in their own neighborhood first simply because that was who they met first.

All hard feelings dissipated when food was served. Petunia had convinced Vernon to grill up some hamburgers and chips. Afterwards, the birthday cake was cut by Yvonne and served by an abashed and still wet Remus Lupin.

There were of course presents for both Dudley and Harry afterwards, which consisted mostly of cars and comics and a few models (Harry had gotten some basic dinosaur wood models and Dudley a more intricate airplane model). Soon enough though, the younger guests were picked up and left amidst waves and 'see you laters'.

After the party clean up was over, or rather, after the four year olds' attention span involving clean up elapsed, Harry and Dudley pulled Mr. Lupin inside to see the other gifts in their toy room for himself. Petunia watched their dash amusedly, and Peter offered to help in the two boys' place while they were gone.

After carefully laying their new things inside the toy room, Dudley excitedly babbled about his train set until Harry dragged Mr. Lupin over to explain the strange beaded object. Dudley, while not pleased to have been interrupted, was curious enough about what the heck the thing was and its purpose that he followed Mr. Lupin over to Harry and what Mr. Lupin soon explained was called an 'abacus'. Both of the boys, one raven haired and one coiffed blonde, listened speculatively as he explained its use in math. Seeing the blank expressions on their faces, he promised to go over it more other time and told them to keep it on hand until then. If nothing else, it wasn't something just anyone had access to, particularly one of that quality. The abacus Harry had been given was made of well treated cherry wood that currently shone, and high quality colored beads and string, not a five pound mostly outdated school instrument.

As enjoyable as the young boys had found their party, all good things must end. With great reluctance they found themselves ushered downstairs back to finish straightening the house to its earlier pristine condition. Dudley was only slightly cheered to find that they were going out to watch a movie after. Harry's mind was more occupied with the mystery of the abacus, his mind not quite grasping what Remus had told them, but determined to figure it out. If there was one thing Harry did not like, it was unsolved mysteries. He liked answers, and he didn't like having to wait for them. Some things he had no choice in – like finding out the Big Secret. The abacus problem had no such restriction; it was only limited by his ability. Well, he'd fix that.

Harry could hear Mr. Pettigrew mention something about a floo address to Mr. Lupin as the two left after giving his aunt and uncle their regards and wishing himself and his cousin a Happy Birthday again. Making a mental note of yet another part of what he though was probably the Big Secret (what sort of thing was a floo anyway?), Harry turned to his aunt with a bright smile and asked if he should get started on the dishes.

Summer passed, and soon another picture found its way to the mantel piece, this time with a small dark haired boy's face and toes showing, bright green eyes grinning. The bulk of the picture was of a blonde boy that had, at the time of the picture, successfully buried the other in sand, and it was the blonde that dominated the picture, although the ease between the two young ones was clear.

September came with a hint of dread that had not been present before. This was the year that the cousins were starting a part time preschool before they entered Infants at the local elementary.

Harry and Dudley were both a little doubtful about the preschool. The only thing it had going for it as far as they could tell was the potential for more stories (a fact Harry pointed out to his cousin with some reluctance). After a bit of musing, the green eyed boy concluded that it was a necessary evil anyway, telling his cousin they wouldn't be little for ever and they might as well learn enough to make sure that anyone dumb enough to look down on them was put properly into his place. Dudley eventually agreed to this, although he seemed happier about the story angle as well as his own realization that they would see other kids their age there. The social interaction was a definite plus, although both were glad they would be coming home at lunch so they wouldn't miss Petunia's cooking.

Sighing together, they spent their last day of freedom sprawled out on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. The storm clouds had gathered thick and fast this morning, and they knew they would be kept inside. Aunt Petunia had brought them sheets of blank paper and markers at Harry's relayed request from himself and Dudley. Until the rain ended, and thus playing outside no longer meant a potential cold in Dudley's mother's mind, they scratched and colored away intent on forming their own comics. If something as ridiculous as the Martin Miggs stuff could get published, then maybe their silly plots – spoken instead of printed – were not so silly after all.

One minor fight over markers later, the boys had split up so they were no longer potentially in each others way or in elbowing room. The quarrel hadn't quite gone to blows and they were at peace now, content to suck on their smuggled Sugar Quills and compete with each other for the most ridiculous (and loudest proclaimed) story.

A/N: I know it's shorter, and I'm sorry, but I really liked that end shot. Don'ts hurt me.