On a crowded station, on the second Friday of April, 'Princess!'

'Daddy,' Hermione loudly whispered, 'Not in front of everyone.'

'Okay darling. Would you mind introducing me to your friend now?'

Her embarrassment forgotten, she formally stated, 'Harry, this is my father, David Granger. Father, this is my friend, Harry Potter.'

'A pleasure to meet you at last; Hermione has told us so much about you,' her father said, offering his hand. Hesitantly, Harry took it in a firm handshake, smiling politely.

'If that's all, I'm quite hungry.'

David chuckled, adding, 'Just like your mother. Did you need me to take your trunks?'

Hermione smirked, replying, 'No thanks daddy, Harry offered to be a gentleman and take both our trunks, didn't you?' She enjoyed watching him squirm.

'Yup, just like your mother,' David confirmed, picking up both trunks.

'Spoilsport,' she muttered, trotting after her father with Harry in tow.

'Cleo honey, I've returned! They were out of beef, so I brought children instead.'

The modestly sized house had a minimalist design, with emphasis on what was there rather than what wasn't. Most notable was the abundant amount of photographs, with whole walls dotted with pictures of the family of three in exotic locations, occasionally with an older member or two.

'Thanks David! Have them washed and glazed and I'll put them in for dinner,' she called from the kitchen.

'You heard your mother. Show Harry his room and the bathroom he'll be using, then right back here.'

Already dragging Harry up a flight of stairs, she said, 'Yes daddy.' Harry felt out of place in the middle of the room he would be sleeping in. There was a cosy looking bed, a sturdy writing desk, a wardrobe, two chests of drawers and even a thin bookcase, all for just him. 'Come on, we can unpack after dinner.'

He nodded, again finding himself being dragged. The bathroom was pointed out and then they were back downstairs, in the dining room. She put him in a seat beside herself and opposite her mother, her father taking the head of the table at his other side.

'Took your time,' Cleo muttered, Hermione rolling her eyes in response.

'Well, now we're all here, tuck in,' David proclaimed, impaling a sprig of broccoli. Quietly, he said to Harry, 'You don't have to eat anything you don't like and we can fix up some snacks later if you're hungry, okay?'

After dinner, a bit of television and some talking, Harry put on a pair of jogging bottoms and a long sleeved shirt that he used as pyjamas in his room. A knock on the door was followed by, 'Harry, can I come in?' He walked over and opened the door, smiling at the petite lady. Returning it, she dropped down onto her haunches, putting them at eye-level. 'I just wanted to tell you that, if you need anything, don't be scared to ask, even if we're asleep.'

He darted to the desk, writing, 'Thank you Mrs Granger,' before bringing it back to the doorway and the amused mother.

'Not a problem, Harry, and call me Cleo; Mrs Granger is my mother-in-law.' She finished with a wink, earning a slight chuckle. 'Sweet dreams,' she whispered before standing up and closing the door.

Harry, having gone to bed earlier than he normally would, woke up at the crack of dawn. Silently escaping his room, he passed the bathroom and then continued on his way to the kitchen.

'Morning Harry,' David said from the spitting pan. 'Have a good sleep?' He turned, getting a nod from the boy before returning to the cooking. 'It'll be another ten minutes or so, but help yourself to some toast in the meantime. Or we've got cereal if you'd prefer?'

Harry shook his head, positioning himself on the opposite side of the kitchen where he looked at pictures from their Christmas holiday.

'Would you mind waking Hermione?' David requested after a few minutes. 'Thanks.'

The first knock didn't get a response, but the following one got a loud groan. A groggy girl opened the door, pausing to yawn, and asked, 'Breakfast?' He nodded and she pulled her dressing gown a bit tighter, tying the belt.

Back downstairs, they sat down again, Hermione getting into the seat beside her father after Harry took the other. Cleo joined them shortly after, muttering about beauty sleep. David watched Harry go through seconds, and then thirds, with veiled amusement, especially at how Hermione seemingly ignored it while suggesting a study schedule for the end of years tests.

'Well, now everyone is fed and watered, what should we do on this splendid Saturday?' David asked.

'Could we go to the movies? I was looking at a guide and Hook came out yesterday; it looks really good.'

Her parents shared a nod, Cleo saying, 'What did you think Harry?' He smiled politely and nodded. 'Okay, so the afternoon is sorted. Can we trust you two to occupy yourselves until then?' Hermione blushed as her mother's smirk gave away the insinuation, while it went over Harry's head.

David and Cleo were overjoyed at the enthusiasm of their daughter who practically hauled the poor boy to the confectionery section. 'It is rather fitting that our talkative little girl befriended someone who couldn't talk,' Cleo said, resting her head against her husband's shoulder.

'Indeed it is,' he vacantly agreed.

'Anything wrong?'

He gently shook his head. 'Thought it was strange how he seemed a little reluctant to get in the car and that he looked a little tense out on the street, that's all.'

'Well, he seems happy enough, but...' she trailed off.

'But there's something off, or am I just being paranoid?'

She lifted her head and shrugged, pulling her husband a step closer to the desk. 'Let's not be hasty in coming to any conclusions. I mean, his teachers are in a better position than us, aren't they? Hermione hasn't said anything either, has she?'

'You're right, dear, but you know I was made to worry. Someone has to, after all.'

Hermione woke in the middle of the night, her throat a bit dry. Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed, slipping her dressing gown on. She clumsily made it through to the kitchen, getting a small drink of water before returning. However, a rustling sound stopped her outside her bedroom door.

She listened, following her ears to the guest room. Closer now, it sounded more like intense writhing. Torn, she decided to check, softly knocking on his door and loudly whispering, 'Harry?' There wasn't any change but a dull thud of flesh on brick. 'Harry, I'm coming in,' she said a bit louder, slowly turning the handle.

He thrashed on the bed, face contorted in horror and hands clenched upon the sheets, flaying about, lips mouthing unuttered screams. Hermione closed the door and rushed to his side, wishing she knew what to do.

Clutching at a hand, trying to hold it still, she begged, 'Wake up, Harry,' before glancing around for anything to help. Finding nothing, she tried again, louder, 'Harry, wake up, please, wake up; it's only a nightmare, everything's okay.' She suppressed a cry when his other arm struck her.

A memory beset her and she began massaging his hand, continuing to whisper her pleas and reassurances. Her own heart beat ferociously as she watched his between erratic breaths.

His chest began to slow, tensed arms relaxing. Barely, his eyelids flickered. 'Harry, it's okay, it was just a dream,' she whispered. He seemingly accepted that, the last struggling of his body ceasing. His eyes open a crack, she smiled, what she had hoped was, a soothing smile.

Moonlight dripped through a gap in the curtains, bathing Hermione in its ethereal glow. Harry was drawn to red stripes across her cheek. Unconsciously, he raised his hand, tenderly touching it, causing her to flinch.

'It's a bit sore still.' He thought for a moment and then pointed to himself. She nodded, but quickly added, 'You were having a nightmare, you didn't mean to.' Unconvinced, he reached over and switched on a bedside light, shielding his eyes while they adjusted.

With the lamp, he could see three strips of scratched skin, speckles of blood at points. He shrank, pulling away from her and grabbing his notebook and pen. 'I'm so sorry,' he wrote, tentatively turning it around so she could see.

'You didn't mean to, it doesn't matter,' she murmured. She shifted, sitting on the end of his bed, not wanting to leave yet hating intruding on him like this. After minutes of silence, she quietly asked, 'Did you want to talk about it? Your nightmare I mean. I'd always tell my mum about mine and then they wouldn't be so bad anymore, I think because I knew it wasn't real, like watching TV or something... I'm babbling again, aren't I?'

He managed a smile, nodding and then noted, 'It's okay, you should go back to bed.'

Softly, she asked, 'Do you have a lot of nightmares?'

'I'm fine, really. It's late and we have to get up early for the picnic.'

'Why don't you want to talk about it?' Gently, she rose, walking along his bed until she looked down into his emerald eyes, but he didn't answer. 'You're not fine, you're selfish,' she hotly stated. 'You're always the hero. I know I'm not one, but now I can finally help you and you won't let me or tell me why. I trust you so much; I wish you would just trust me a little more.'

She took a step back, turning and staring up at her shadow on the far wall. She dared not look at him, fearful she would be scorned by her best friend. A tap on her shoulder made her turn around. Solemnly, he handed her his notebook and she read, 'It's a memory; it hurts to remember.'

'That's okay,' she whispered, 'It gets easier after you tell someone, I promise.'

She watched as he thought for a moment and then wrote something down, his face pained. Slowly, he passed it over and she read, 'I watched my best friend die when I was nine.'

She caught herself before she apologised, remembering about his parents, and again before leaning over and giving him a comforting hug. At a loss of what to do, she smiled and held her nerve, pushing further by asking, 'Could you tell me about it?'

He closed his eyes, thinking, remembering. Sluggishly, he wrote, 'Callum was hit by a car. It wasn't travelling fast, but it didn't get a chance to brake and hit him hard. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He was my brother in all but blood and I still miss him so much it hurts.'

A couple of tears formed in her eye, dripping onto the page, as she read it, comparing it to what she imagined she would feel like if she lost Harry, especially in such a horrific way. 'Oh Harry,' she whispered, unable to stop herself from pulling him close and sobbing, muttering, 'It's okay to hurt,' over and over.

At first he tensed, unprepared and unwilling, but she refused to budge. He cautiously accepted the comfort forming from the regular pattern of her breaths. Over the next few minutes, he eased her off until she stood apart, looking sheepishly at her feet.

'Some friend I am, blubbering like a baby. I mean, I didn't even know him, but just thinking about it happening to you and I fall to pieces. I bet I didn't even help you feel any better after saying those mean things to get you to tell me earlier and I feel-' She paused momentarily, then said, 'I'm rambling again, sorry.'

Harry listened with good humour, writing a reply to her after picking the notebook from the floor. 'You did help, thank you.' He was tempted, but decided against adding how nice it felt to know he wasn't weird for his feelings - that he wasn't a freak.

She looked up, that slightly different smile on his face, the one she liked more than the other. 'Thank you for letting me help you.' Her eyes wandered to a small clock sitting next to the lamp. 'I guess I should go back to bed, night.' He nodded as a reply and she walked to the door, silently opening it and tiptoeing back into her bedroom.

Meanwhile, Harry lay back in his own bed, staring up at the ceiling. His relief was being crowded by the doubts, the ones about whether he should have told her everything rather than just that extract. No matter how he looked at it though, he couldn't risk it, not while he thought she would tell someone.

The Sunday weather was sunny with a gentle breeze when the Grangers and guest laid out the large, navy blanket beneath a broad oak. An array of sandwiches were strewn about the paper plates, the four arranged in a semicircle.

'Such a shame so many kids spend all day in front of the television,' David sighed after only crumbs were left on his plate. 'Why, I remember when my friends and I would spend practically all day outside playing football.'

'That was a long time ago, daddy,' Hermione said, standing up and smoothing the crinkles from her baby blue dress.

Cleo chuckled, saying, 'She's right, you know. How many channels did we have when at school? Three?'

'It doesn't matter anyway, just means we get the whole park to ourselves,' Hermione stated. 'Now, may we have some bread to feed the ducks?'

'Of course, Princess,' David replied, removing a few slices from the hamper as well as the leftover crusts. Laden with duck food, she set off. 'Be careful, I hear they have piranhas now, so don't fall in.'

Without stopping, she turned and loudly said, 'Yes daddy,' before continuing on to the pond, Harry jogging beside her. Getting close, they slowed down and Hermione became quite amused by the mutual interest shown between the fowl and Harry as they eyed each other wearily.

She tossed a crust at the nearest one, laughing as a nearby one tried to snap it up. Harry seemed content to watch for the moment, so she sent another crust a bit further out to a group of new arrivals, getting a bit of squabbling until a young duck got it.

'Did you want a couple of slices?' she asked, flinging a small piece as far as she could. He nodded and copied her as she tore off a part of the bread. Simply throwing the feed and watching the gliding ducks left him content and he didn't know why. They both burst into laughter when one of the ducks flipped over, sticking its behind up while its head dived underwater. 'It's such a beautiful park. I'd walk through it everyday on my way home from school. I kinda miss it, but there's such pretty views from Hogwarts, so I don't mind, especially when I can still come to it when I'm at home.'

Taking what she said in, he threw the remnants of bread before taking out the little notebook and pen, sitting on the soft grass. He glanced around the scene, committing the key bits to memory and put the first few lines on the page.

She caught on after finishing with her own feed and carefully sat down next to him. 'Mr Potter, must you always solve my problems?'

Pausing from drawing, he flipped the page and wrote, 'A thank you for last night.'

Tutting, she said, 'No, Mr Potter, I don't need a thank you, because that's what friends are for.'

Smirking, he added, 'Good to know. You won't mind if I make a quick drawing then, since that's what friends are for?'

She broke, giggling. 'You really are impossible. How long do you need?'

'A few minutes,' he jotted before flipping back and adding to the picture, casually flicking the scene into shape, Hermione watching, mesmerised.

After a fun filled first few days, Hermione revealed her planned revision schedule for the rest of the year, much to her parent's amusement and Harry's bemusement, considering the exams were still a couple of months away.

So it was that, after a long day of going over history, he collapsed in his bed, random facts swirling around his mind. The next day promised transfiguration and charms theory – they weren't allowed to use their wands outside of school until they were seventeen. Sighing, he thought it couldn't hurt to brush up a little until bed.

Popping open his trunk, he rummaged around, pulling out the traditionally blue book. He only realised that it was his father's second year book after getting back in bed. Deciding he was too lazy to swap it, he started flicking through the pages, reading the comments and notes scrawled on the pages from a time long ago.

One of his favourites was on a section about transfiguring while retaining properties, where his father made a note about producing a rose-scented glass figurine and wondering whether or not LE would like it.

Then, in a section about changing solid objects to include a vacuum, someone called SB suggested using it on Snivellus's chair legs to make them collapse. While it agreed with a lot of what McGonagall had told her about her father's antics, he hadn't known they specifically targeted anyone in particular.

Over the pages, he found more mentions of Snivellus, along with a RL and a PP to go with the SB. Based on what he had heard, he assumed that they were his father's three best friends - Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Extending that, he thought it likely that LE was Lily Evans, his mother.

Some sections also had mentions of what Snivellus had done to them with suggested defensive measures against the stunt. One such was talk of a potion that quickly dissolved a person's clothing, which was prevented using a hasty transfiguration to alter the fabric.

While he read, he formed basic profiles of the four. Sirius was always advocating public humiliation of sorts, such as replacing the Slytherin table's goblets with transfigured dragon dung and reversing it in the middle of the meal. He was also the one who suggested most of the pranks on Snivellus.

Remus, on the other hand, preferred subtlety and avoiding targeting actual people, such as by changing the Slytherin banner into one about the YMCA, which he said those familiar with muggles would enjoy, while the pure-bloods would be clueless – his father additionally noted that the YMCA was an organisation of some sort and left it at that.

Peter was a mixture of the two, often putting forward suggestions that would single out someone for a long time, such as altering their robes to have "hex me" neatly sown onto their back, but without physically pranking them.

His father seemed to be the transfiguration practitioner, tweaking ideas and actually casting them. Given what McGonagall had said, he guessed his father was better than the others in that area, so they had probably played to their strengths.

It also seemed that it was mainly his father and Sirius bearing the brunt of retaliations, especially from Snivellus. One particular page had a mention of a hex that caused the person to randomly lose their balance. His father had made his robe as soft and thick as a duvet until Sirius had found the counter-curse for it.

However, it became much more serious towards the end, where there was a section on animagi. A couple of notes were about books on the subject and another stating that McGonagall was a cat animagus and that she learned as part of her transfiguration mastery for her final project, along with a reference to the dissertation she wrote on the subject. Additionally, there were messages wondering what animal each would be.

His father seemed to think Sirius would be a kitten or something else that looked cute, so he would get snuggled by the older girls. Meanwhile, Peter, he thought, would be a squirrel, as he enjoyed finding bits of gossip and hoarding them like nuts. There wasn't anything about Remus, but his father hoped that he himself would be a koala, since Lily had said it was her favourite animal, although he also said a dragon would be awesome.

Harry agreed with his father on that point. A few fragments mentioned there hadn't been an animagi who was a magical creature, but nor was there any reason that they had found that said it was impossible. Losing himself in thought, he imagined what life would be like as a snidget, the little bird that the snitch was based on. Whatever he was, he felt confident it would have wings of some kind and would probably be fast too.

Eventually, he eased out of the book, glancing at the clock and deciding it would be a good time to try and go to sleep. He resolved to spend a little more time going through the book again some time soon - it was the first hand-me-down he actually liked – and to write a letter to Remus Lupin.

It was with reluctance that Harry packed away his meagre belongings on Easter Sunday. Despite only being there for a week, and though he felt a bit selfish about it, he did think of it as his room now. He began to wonder if Hermione might invite him back over the summer holidays, which would be a great improvement to the Dursley's.

He crept downstairs, holding onto a few bits and pieces. As he had done every other day, he sat on the comfy sofa, a bit of sunlight filtering onto his feet. Today, he was determined to get a final draft written, since he knew he'd end up forgetting if he left it until back at school.

'Dear Mr Lupin,

'My name is Harry Potter. I am writing to you to ask for a moment of your time, more if you are willing to spare it.

'I hope I am correct in thinking you were a good friend of my father, James Potter, and knew my mother, Lily Evans, while attending Hogwarts. If not, please ignore the rest of this letter.

'In case you did not know, I lost both my parents before I turned two. While Professor McGonagall informed me you had lost touch with them after school, there are relatively few people who knew my parents and, as far as I know, you are the only one left who knew them well as a friend, rather than a teacher.

'If it is not too much to ask, I would very much like to hear some stories about my father and mother. I have his transfiguration book from second year, which mentions some of the pranks you, my father, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, as well as a few by a "Snivellus", pulled. There are also a few mentions of my mother, but Professor McGonagall told me they only really became a couple in the last year or two of school, so I don't know much more than her favourite animal being a koala.

'Thank you for your time and I will fully understand if you do not wish to reply or share your memories.

'Harry James Potter.'

After reading over it again, he carefully folded the slip of paper and lowered it into the trim envelope. Delicately, he printed "Remus Lupin" onto the front and found himself unsurprised by the tapping at the window.

With a smile, he slid the pane up and scratched the snowy owl. She nuzzled against his hand and gave him a playful nip. Putting down the message for the moment, he wrote, 'You really are the cleverest owl.' Hedwig puffed out her chest at the words of praise. 'Now then, did you need a drink or snack first?'

She swivelled her head either side. Chuckling, he tied the letter to her leg. After a last nip, she jumped off the ledge, rising with a beat of her wings. He watched her soar into the distance.

'That was a beautiful owl, is it your Hedwig?'

The voice startled him and he turned quickly, relaxing as David stood smiling. He picked up his notebook and wrote, 'Yes, that was her, though sometimes I think I'm her pet really.'

David chuckled. 'Some animals are like that.' Walking back towards the kitchen, he added, 'Don't forget we're leaving at ten, but we're having a traditional Easter egg hunt, so make sure you're packed by eight.' After Harry nodded, David continued on to the kitchen.

A groggy Hermione joined them half an hour later, Cleo a little later. By half past seven, they were finished eating and David hustled the two children upstairs, forbidding them from coming down until called.

Harry took the time to sketch his room, including the view of the sunrise across a distant meadow. Hermione used it to finish off her packing, joining to watch him work for the last dozen or so minutes.

'Come on you two,' Cleo shouted from downstairs. Springing up, the two of them were shortly back in the dining room.

'Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to locate the only chocolate permitted in this household. You must accomplish this feat in under two hours or forfeit the sugary delicacy. What is your answer?'

Hermione huffed, saying, 'Daddy, you didn't tell us your name.'

'I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.' She shook her head. 'Fine. I am the mad scientist Doctor Mike Teeser and this lovely woman is my assistant and wife Mel,' he said, motioning to Cleo at his side.

Smirking, Hermione asked, 'Mel Teeser?' Her father nodded. 'We accept. What can you tell us?'

David bridged his fingers and furrowed his eyebrows. 'I am afraid we do not know much, but what we do know is that the evil villain, because you never get a good villain, was seen drinking a glass of milk.'

She immediately set off, Harry following shortly behind.

'Well now, that's them done for the next couple of hours. Did we have any other pressing, evil plans to foil?' David asked.

Cleo pulled out the chair beside him, dropping into it. 'We could try to do something about the evil plan to take our precious daughter away from us for another couple of months.'

He chuckled, leaning over and pulling her into a hug. 'I'll miss her too,' he whispered.

Harry and Hermione continued gallivanting around the house, following the clues given at each point to various and obscure points, ranging from the cutlery draw to a specific garden gnome, of the non-magical variety, to down the back of the sofa.

Eventually, they converged on a small cupboard Hermione's parents used to store odd bits of dentistry kit. 'Seek the one with the key to get your hands all chocolatey,' read a post-it on the door.

Returning to the dining room, she coughed loudly to get her parents attention. 'We have come to seek the one with the key.'

'That would be me,' Cleo said, removing a key from her pocket. David joined them as they all went back to the cupboard and Cleo opened it. 'A chocolate egg each, from us, another one each, from a Miss Bones and Miss Abbott, and finally two chocolate frogs each, from a Mister Longbottom.'

'What better place to store chocolate than in a place devoted to good oral hygiene?' David rhetorically asked, grinning.

'"Parting is such sweet sorrow,"' Cleo muttered, watching Harry and Hermione meet up with Neville.

David kissed her forehead. 'It seems like only yesterday she came to us crying, worried that she wouldn't make any friends or that she wasn't a witch and it was all a big mistake or that she didn't know whether or not lumos was pronounced with a long "oo".'

'Soon she won't even need us. What will we do then? I'm too young to surround myself with cats and call them my children.'

'How about we take that long awaited honeymoon across France?'

She held him a little closer in their one-armed embrace. 'I'd like that, but only if you promise to stay off the smelly cheeses.'

'One of these days I'll convert you,' he said, waving at Hermione while she climbed into an apartment, followed by Harry. 'He's such a quiet boy, even for someone who doesn't speak.'

'Not once did he ask me for anything except permission to do something he didn't need to, like having a glass of juice or making himself a bowl of cereal,' she murmured.

They stood in thought for a few minutes, watching as the magical platform that was nine and three-quarters further fill with oddly dressed people. 'For someone raised without awareness of magic, he is quite... reserved. Why do you think?'

'"A little more than kin, and less than kind,"' she whispered.

'You must be more melancholy than I thought to be so Shakespearean.' Another few minutes dripped by. 'I think it is not our place to call his relatives uncaring for being strict. Even if they were, he has no one else and he seems happy enough.'

Cleo waited a moment, then coldly said, 'A happy child doesn't have three nightmares across nine nights.'

'I agree, but with what we overheard, can you blame him? We could ask child services to check, however we've only known him a week.'

Groans of steel sounded, the lumbering locomotive puffing steam and gently beginning. 'If they... I could never forgive myself, as a mother and a human.'

'Nor could I,' he concurred, then added, 'Perhaps we could look into inviting him to come stay, along with some of her other friends, over the summer?'

Slowly returning to their car, she soberly quoted, '"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie."'

Author notes

Meet the Granger's, David and Cleo. A slow chapter before the end of year begins and things start to speed up. Several sub-plots have bubbled up, stretching from the short to longer term, while also teasing about Harry's past, all for my own amusement.

Unstorily, I probably would have been able to get this done last night, but I was ambushed by mechanics and physics homework. However, I still met my self-imposed deadline, so I think Wednesday should be very much possible for the next instalment without a problem.

Until then, "be not afraid of greatness," nor crumple-horned snorkacks (they like to snuggle).