Disclaimer: It belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling, not me.

A/N: Sorry about how long this took to get out – real life intruded and then NaNo happened and real life again and then there were the Holidays and then more real life and then the muse went out for a burger and ended up sending me a postcard from San Diego and then… Sigh.

Here we have the first of two chapters of a series of scenes to jump the storyline ahead to the next main bit – a word of warning, several of these scenes are not from Harry's point-of-view, just so ya know.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Time Passes

June 23, 1998

The bed Dudley woke up on was slowly becoming more familiar. It wasn't as soft as his bed at his parents' had been, it was larger than the bunk in the jail, and was far more comfortable than the muslin-wrapped-brick at Aunt Marge's. Unlike most of the people he knew, Dudley was, by nature, a morning person. The times he stayed out with his friends until midnight or later while growing up had proven this beyond any doubt in his mind – he simply ceased to function at a reasonable level if he was up past ten or eleven at night, becoming more and more foul-tempered as the hours stretched later.

Gray light peeked from between the slats of the vertical blinds indicating that it was either shortly before sunrise or that the day was going to be damply dismal. Dudley wasn't hoping for sunshine; his luck hadn't been running all that well lately, and rain on his birthday would be just about par for the course.

He sighed and rolled himself out of bed and towards the bathroom. Harry had been thoughtful enough to make sure he had the basics for living – towels, sheets, the bed, and so on – delivered the evening he'd moved in. A pretty brunette girl with frizzy hair had actually been the one to drop off the numerous boxes; she'd removed them from her pockets and enlarged the parcels from their toylike size while Dudley watched with a queasy mix of fascination and fear. Though he was sure she'd introduced herself, he couldn't remember what she said her name was. She'd lingered just long enough to help him move the boxes to the rooms for which they were labeled.

He'd put the refrigerator-groceries away, set up his bed, and dug out a couple of other miscellaneous things like soap, but hadn't finished unpacking anything else just yet. He had spent the majority of the last three days either staring out at London or playing computer games. He'd been sorely disappointed when he discovered that the Ethernet jack in the living room wasn't connected.

For breakfast, he had a handful of grapes. He really wanted a bowl of cereal – No, what I really want is a couple of waffles with whipped cream and blueberries and crispy bacon and some toast and some fried tomatoes and maybe a bowl of peaches with some cream – but he didn't know in which box it might be hiding.

Come on, Dudley, he gave himself a mental shake, pull yourself out of this. You're bloody eighteen years old today – start acting like it. The emptiness and solitude of his apartment seemed to crush down around him, making it hard to breathe. He sighed and looked from the piles of boxes lining the kitchen counters to his hands and back.

He grabbed a box off the counter, moved it to the table, and ripped the tape off, the noise of tape parting company with the box was unnaturally loud. The box had a sheet of parchment sitting on top of the contents. The handwriting was extremely neat and precise, not to mention unfamiliar.

The contents will automatically resize when you remove them. Once the box is empty, it will linger for three hours before banishing itself as well as any rubbish you place within.

Sitting the note aside, he saw that this box held dozens of cans. Soup and peas and string beans and corned beef hash among others. He picked the cupboard over the microwave and set to work putting things away. The second box held boxes of cereal, pasta, instant potatoes, and muffin-mixes. The third held cleaning supplies including sponges, dishrags, tea towels, soap, a broom and dustpan, and a sponge mop. The next had assorted dishes, followed by a box of pots and pans. One-by-one, the boxes slowly emptied and their contents were put where Dudley thought they needed to go. Each had the same note as the first.

He moved on from the kitchen to the significantly smaller stack of boxes for the bathroom and found that those boxes had a similar note, but the contents weren't shrunk – the boxes themselves would simply 'banish' after the three hour limit. With towels and toilet paper and soap and shampoo all put away in either the linen closet or the space under the sink, Dudley moved on to the bedroom boxes. Checking his watch halfway through putting his clothes away, he realized he'd managed to waste close to five hours. Ever since his parents… had gone, he'd not really been hungry; eating had been more of a habit than a necessity. Still… He was feeling somewhat proud of the fact that he'd accomplished something with his morning, and he felt far hungrier than he had in a long time. He hurriedly finished up with the last of his clothes and set to making himself a can of barley soup for lunch.

He'd almost managed to forget what day it was. Almost.

After lunch was done, he headed into the living room to finish unpacking. Gonna hafta remember to tell Harry I need some tape or something so I can hang my posters. Maybe some shelves for my movies and a stand for the telly, too. By the time he'd finished up, the flat was definitely looking more lived-in. He smiled at the stack of empty boxes – the normal ones, that is, the magical ones had already all disappeared – and felt… accomplished. The smile was short lived, though.

"Happy birthday, Dudley," he muttered to himself, suddenly depressed that it was highly likely no one else would say those words to him, not to mention the fact that the early morning promise of rain had been fulfilled. Stretching out on the sofa, he angled his little television, which he'd set up on the coffee table for the time-being, so he could see it more clearly and popped in his favorite sci-fi movie. The noise from the heroes battling aliens in a far-away galaxy made the flat seem a little less isolated.

Dudley was startled awake by a knock on his door some time later. How much later, he couldn't hazard a guess, but it had been long enough that it was dark outside, and his television was currently showing nothing more than a blue screen. "Just a mo'!" he shouted, before yawning and climbing to his feet. He flicked on a lamp as he passed it.

When he opened the door, he saw a small crowd of people on the other side. His cousin was standing behind everyone, wearing the most neutral of all possible expressions. He recognized the pretty brunette who had delivered the boxes of whatnot he'd spent all day unpacking, Mrs. Kellerman, Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Black. He didn't know who the gorgeous woman wearing jeans and a black tank top might be, but judging by the way she was hanging on Mr. Black's arm, he knew he would want to maintain civility around her – he knew he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but even he knew not to try poaching on someone else's territory.

Mrs. Kellerman smiled kindly, "Happy birthday, Dudley." She stepped forward, and instinct had Dudley backing away so she could come in. Her greeting was echoed by everyone but Harry.

Harry paused next to him and whispered, "Just so you know, this wasn't my idea." The barbed comment hurt more than he would have expected. Guess he's still angry with me.

Between Mr. Black, his girlfriend, and Mr. Lupin, there weren't any chances for uncomfortable silences for the remainder of the evening. Mrs. Kellerman had brought a cake, guaranteeing that it was non-fat and low-sugar – which was patently obvious in its somewhat stale-cardboard flavoring on which no one commented. To Dudley's further surprise, everyone had brought presents for him, too; even Rumor Watson and the girl with the frizzy hair – Hermione.

Miss Watson had given him a couple of video games for his Playstation, including a mix disk of old Atari classics. Mr. Black got him a small telescope that had a card inside the box which read, 'It'd be a shame to let all those windows go to waste.' Mr. Lupin gave him a book on studying tips, Mrs. Kellerman gave him another book titled How to Cook Absolutely Anything in Plain English. Hermione's box was charmed much like the boxes for the kitchen had been and contained a full dozen books on the magical world, its people, creatures, and history. At the bottom of the box were a pair of small book shelves that had three rungs each and stood about four feet tall. Somewhat anxious as to what Harry might have gotten him, Dudley saved his cousin's gift for last. It turned out to be a mobile phone. It had Harry's number, the Kellerman house number, Mrs. Kellerman's number, and his lawyer's number pre-programmed into it. Too bad I don't remember Piers' number.

June 30, 1998

Finally getting the chance to meet and talk with Brent and Julia Parker – Nigel's friends from the US, Harry realized that Nigel had been correct in getting the three of them on the same page, so-to-speak. Brent was a physicist that specialized in the physics of magic – not a normal specialization by any stretch of the imagination, but the man was much like Nigel, a wizard with scientific leanings. Julia was his wife and though a squib by birth, she knew more about the theory of magic than just about anyone else Harry had spoken with on the subject; she was the research behind her husband's experimentations.

The Parkers were fascinated by what Harry was planning on doing with the wizarding and muggle worlds, and both had agreed that it was a good idea, so long as it was carefully done. They had a contract in the US that they needed to finish, but had agreed to move to London when that contract expired in January.

July 14, 1998

Reading over a couple of charms he'd not had the chance to learn previously, Harry made a couple of notations in his BKE notebook and closed the Standard Book of Spells (grade six) and blinked at the cover. I knew I knew that name from somewhere! But the woman who set up Dudley's monitoring anklet didn't seem old enough to have written multiple editions of the Standard Book of Spells texts… Maybe she's a relative?

Checking with Sirius, Harry learned that the Mrs. Goshawk that he met was either someone with the same name as the textbook author, or was married to the author's squib grandson. In either case, it was a rather large coincidence that the two women had the same name.

July 29, 1998

"That is it, I have had it with this place!" Eliza Rillikee slammed a leather ledger shut with a resounding crack. "I don't care that the pay's good – what does it matter if I'm stuck researching all the time?"

Three of the other researchers peered over their respective tomes. An elderly gent leveled a disapproving glare in her direction. Another researcher, this one not quite so old, nor so male, smiled to herself, shook her head, and went back to reading through a treatise on the Dragon Pox endemic of 1874. The last of the three researchers situated close enough to Eliza to catch her mutterings chuckled. He sat his own book aside and stretched, popping his back as he did so.

When Ron had began his apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, he hadn't anticipated that the first few months would be spent stuck in the hospital's library, honing his research skills. It had only taken until the end of the first day for him to realize he honestly missed Hermione's rather bossy company. Not to mention the fact that she always knew where to look for obscure information. "Not in the apprenticeship program, I take it?"

Eliza shook her head, "No. I don't much like sick people, and the sight of blood makes me queasy, so I don't think I'd make a good healer."

Ron let out an amused huff, "Then how is it you're working here?"

Eliza shrugged and brushed her light brown hair out of her face. "It's just a job. From what I saw in the advertisement – not to mention what they told me – I had figured it would be an easy job; it's just reading and reporting on what was read. I hadn't figured on it being so time-consuming."

Ron glanced at the clock near the door. It read Time for Lunch. "C'm on, let's head up to the tea shop and grab something to eat." The two exchanged normal small-talk on the elevator ride to the tea shop floor. After securing some lunch from the vendor, they took a corner table. "So, what would you rather be doing with your time?"

Eliza nibbled on her sandwich before answering, "Honestly?"

Ron nodded.

She closed her pale blue eyes for a moment and let her face relax into a pleasant smile. "Not many people know this, but I ended up going to a two-year business school in the US after finishing Hogwarts. My daddy thought it would be a good idea, especially since I was supposed to take over his businesses when he died. Unfortunately, he got bought out by his partners just before I graduated in May, so my taking them over if Daddy ever passes is kinda moot."

"Business school, huh?" Ron grinned. He had a plan.

Eliza misinterpreted the grin, "Oh, Merlin. I knew I shouldn't've said anything."

Ron shook his head and laid a hand on her arm, "No, I wasn't making fun, Eliza. It's just that I know someone who just might want you working with him. Let me talk to him first, though."

July 31, 1998

Harry's eighteenth birthday was something of a memorable day, if entirely ordinary in its occurrences. There were people, presents, cake, ice-cream, and games. Stories and pictures and a backyard barbecue. Sunshine and water balloons and fun. The only unusual happenings involved the mail.

The first piece of mail was a letter from Phoenix University in Arizona, letting Harry know he'd been accepted into their distance-learning courses.

The second piece of mail was delivered by owl at approximately four in the afternoon, between the end of Sirius' story involving one of his favorite pranks against someone who wasn't a Slytherin and the beginning of a massive celebratory water fight; it was Harry's NEWT scores. He'd passed all his tests – not that he'd been worried, mind. Well, not much at any rate.

August 13, 1998

After several meetings among Snape, Lucius, and 'Mr. Sophismata', the three of them agreed that they were ready to begin the practical side of their plan. Lucius would take care of the first step – hiding Voldemort away 'for his health'. Harry didn't know where precisely, only that he'd overheard 'Bethlam' at one point in their planning. If that is where they're sending him, I have to hope that whatever psychologist is in charge of the case has a strong stomach, was Harry's final thought on the matter.

The thirteenth of August was also the day Harry got to meet Eliza Rillikee. Within an hour of meeting her and discussing parts of his plans for BKE, they'd agreed on an annual salary. Her official job title, until further notice, would be 'Personal Assistant'.

August 27, 1998

"What do you mean, you've never heard of Star Wars?" Dudley was slightly astonished.

Harry had been talked into letting Fred and George meet his cousin, which explained why the three wizards were visiting the muggle who lived in Harry's building. It went without saying that, as purebloods who grew up without access to movies or television, the twins wouldn't have had the chance to see them, so Harry wasn't sure where Dudley's surprise came into things.

Of course, Dudley couldn't let the lamentable standing of the twins ignorance continue.

Of course Dudley owned copies of the movies in question.

Of course he also owned several seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation, too.

Why did these facts seem to send a cold chill down Harry's spine? Maybe it was the unrestrained glee on Gred and Forge's faces. Maybe the A/C just needed fixed. Harry didn't really think it was that last bit, but he could hope, yeah?

October 31, 1998

Halloween of 1998 saw the first annual Black Kettle Enterprises costume party. Ron was invited, too, and showed up as Sir Lancelot. It was complete chance that had Hermione show as Guenivere.

Sirius was disqualified for claiming his animagus form as his costume.

Arthur showed up in an electrician's coverall – no one wanted to know how or why he'd managed to find one – ended up having one too many hits off the spiked punchbowl (and if Harry knew who it was that had spiked it, they'd be wearing tentacles for a week) and spent the remainder of the night trying to convince Harry that light bulbs made perfect additions to a curio cabinet.

Harry went as a pirate, though halfway through the night, he had to get rid of the eyepatch – the string kept getting tangled in his glasses.

Ted Tonks actually won the contest. His undying love of zombie movies transferred rather grotesquely over into knowing how to apply layers of fake skin and greasepaint like a professional effects artist.

A/N2: Major congratulations are in order to Rillikee, who managed to be the 2000th reviewer! I hope you like what I did with the character you said you wanted to 'play'.

You know, back when I started this thing, I had no idea it would grow to the lengths it has, nor that it would have the following it does. I literally cannot express my astonishment at how much everyone seems to like this story, nor my amusement at how often I get messages that say something to the effect, 'So, when's the next update?' It never fails to put a smile on my face.

So, with that said, I guess I have to say: Reviews make me smile!