Proud

"Harry, come on, lad, hurry now! It's time for a picture of you all!" Nanny Whitmore called to Harry.

Anxiously, the boy played with the winter hat upon his head. He knew she was going to make him take it off since it was not only summer but also a family picture for Dudley's ninth birthday. Giving the hem of the hat an especially hard tug, he complained, "I don't want to! Dudley always takes up the whole picture, anyway!"

"Harry!" both Nanny Whitmore and Uncle Vernon scolded.

Stubbornly, he shook his head.

Face taking on that familiar purple hue it often did when he was angry, Uncle Vernon rose up from his spot behind Dudley and snapped, "If you don't come here this instance, boy, I'll lock you in the cupboard under the stairs!"

It was just an idle threat. Uncle Vernon wouldn't really do that, Harry knew (though, if he did, he was pretty sure Nanny Whitmore would let him out once he'd gone to work).

"No!" he said with a scowl.

Coming around the table, Uncle Vernon grabbed his arm in a vice-grip as he started back for where Dudley was waiting impatiently among all his presents. Reaching for the pompom of his hat, the man growled, "And take this bloody thing off!"

"But I hate my hair–"

It was too late for Harry, the hat was gone.

However, unlike he'd expected, his head was not cold. No, the bangs he'd lost just a couple days ago were back and everyone around him, Uncle Vernon, Dudley and even unflappable Nanny Whitmore were wearing expressions of sheer shock.

"How…?" Uncle Vernon murmured as he gave Harry's hair a bit of a tug. "I – real – how?"

Harry was just as at a loss to explain as his uncle. Running his fingers through his locks, he gave a back and forth toss of his head. "I-I dunno, Uncle Vernon. My hair wasn't this long when I put the hat on!"

"It's magic!" Dudley proclaimed with awe.

Uncle Vernon's head whipping around to look at Harry's cousin, he bellowed, "There's no such thing as magic!"

Dudley shrank back in his seat as Nanny Whitmore came to put a comforting hand on the large boy's shoulder. "Mister Dursley's right, lad," she whispered.

Hat still in hand as he crouched down to Harry's level, the man demanded of him, "What did you do Harry? What did you use on your head to make your hair sprout back like this?"

Lip trembling, Harry began to quake. "N-Nothing, Uncle Vernon! I didn't put anything on my head!"

"Harry, I'm not mad. I just want to know. It might not be safe!" the man explained with that hard edge he always had to his voice when he was losing patience.

Tears already slipping down his cheeks, Harry whispered, "I didn't put anything on my head besides the hat. It's like Dudley said, it came back like magic."

"There's no such thing as magic!" he roared into the boy's face, spit splattering on the lenses of his glasses.

Ears hot and ringing warnings, Harry, resolute, whispered, "But it had to be."

Fat fingers wrapping around his upper arm, Uncle Vernon stood up, and all but dragging Harry from the room took him into the hall and opened the cupboard beneath the stairs.

Eyes going large in alarm, Harry twined his fingers into his uncle's sleeve as he pleaded, "Don't Uncle Vernon, please!"

The man ignored him. Ripping him from his sleeve, he shoved Harry into the darkness and closed the door.

Voice caught in his throat, Harry couldn't even scream. Instead, he threw all his measly weight against the door and pounded on it as if he were trapped within a coffin instead of a closet.

But who knew? Maybe it would become one.

After a few moments, when his voice came back, Harry began to cry, "Uncle Vernon! Uncle Vernon! Please, I'm sorry! Let me out! Let me out!"

No one came, though.

Eventually, feeling very much abandoned, Harry stopped in his screaming and pounding and just collapsed bonelessly beside the door.

He was going to die here and there was nothing to be done about it.

So, while waiting for his end, he concluded the best way to meet it would be while asleep. Closing his eyes, he drifted into slumber with little trouble. Pounding and screaming had done quite a nice job of wearing him out, it seemed.

-v-v-v-

"Harry? Oh, Harry! Are you alright my sweet?" a voice that sounded suspiciously like that of Nanny Whitmore's asked Harry as he came to be cradled against a woman's warm body.

(What a shame, he'd been hoping he'd finally get to meet his Mother again.)

Blinking his eyes to help them grow accustomed to the light of day once more, Harry turned his head against the woman's thick neck and asked, "Where's Uncle Vernon and Dudley?"

"I'm here," a tiny voice so much unlike his cousin's, but still his said.

Fingers running through his hair, Nanny Whitmore told Harry, "Your Uncle went to work ten minutes ago. I wanted to wait just a little bit in case he might have forgotten something and saw me taking you out so soon."

"Oh," Harry replied. "Nanny Whitmore?" he inquired.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked right back.

"Is Uncle Vernon going to make you lock me back in the closet when he comes home for lunch?"

"No!" she exclaimed in abhorrence. "If he even suggests such a thing I'll be calling the police! He should never have to start with! If I hadn't feared both your and Dudley's well being earlier, I would have never let him!"

Feeling quite relieved at what his Nanny was promising him, Harry came to wrap his arms around her in a hug as he mumbled, "I love you, Nanny Whitmore."

She tensed beneath his hold. But, then, Harry was sharing his hug with Dudley as the woman rocked with them. "I love you boys too," she whispered into their hair, kissing them each as a mother (or aunt) may have. "So much..."

Later, when Uncle Vernon came home, he said nothing about Harry being out of the closet. Nor did he apologize for the morning's incident. Too fearful of what might happen if it were brought up again so soon, Harry, Dudley and Nanny Whitmore said nothing either.

But even if it was not mentioned, Harry knew he was sorry. The brand new bike, scooter, and pogo stick he got for his birthday a month later were more than enough to tell him so. Never before and never again would he get such a large, expensive array of gifts.

-v-v-v-v-v-

"Mister Dursley! Mister Dursley! Come quickly!" Missis Whitmore shrilled.

Looking up from his paper, Vernon glanced between the surprised expressions of his son and nephew. None of them had ever heard Missis Whitmore shriek before. Getting up from the table, Vernon called, "Just a moment, Missis Whitmore!"

And just as he'd promised, a moment later he was in the kitchen.

"What is it, Missis Whitmore?" he asked, studying her pale, shocked face.

She lifted a shaky hand to point at the window. "Look!"

Vernon's mouth dropped open. Behind the closed glass was an owl. And the owl had a letter clutched in its beak.

"What...?" he whispered.

He felt his son brush up against his side.

"Dad? What's with the owl?" he asked.

Vernon looked at his son and the bird. "I can't say I know," he answered.

Another beat passed before Dudley called back, "Harry! Come look! There's an owl with a letter at the window!"

Moments later, Harry bounced into the room. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "How odd..."

"Should we do something about it, Dad? It looks like it's glaring at us," Dudley remarked.

Vernon hesitated. Should he? What if it were rabid? When the owl gave a shrill hoot, the man realized he didn't have much of a choice. Sighing, he told the boys, "Go to the other room. I'll take care of this."

Reluctantly, Harry and Dudley left.

"You too, Missis Whitmore. Keep my boys safe," he told the shaky woman.

Giving him a relieved smile, she hurried out and left Vernon to deal with the strange owl.

After a moment of hesitation, he went to the window. Vernon then lifted it just enough to give the owl a chance to shove the letter through the crack. And when it pushed the letter through, Vernon snatched up as he said, "Thanks! Bye now!" and closed the window back up.

Turning the letter over in his hands, he realized it was for his nephew. "Harry!" he called. He should have known, he mused. Harry always had something strange going on about him and today would be no different.

The boy's shaggy mop appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" he asked.

"This is for you," he said, holding the letter out to Harry.

A frown puckering his lips, Harry approached and took the letter from him. Opening it, he read aloud:

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-

"What?" Vernon sputtered, feeling his face begin to heat up. "Is this some kind of joke?"

It had to be, he thought. A school named Hogwarts was just preposterous! Only a child could think of such a thing! Turning an accusatory eye on his nephew, he wondered if this wasn't Harry's doing. He was such a strange lad, who's to say he hadn't trained the owl to hold a letter at the window?

Harry frantically shook his head, seeming to have picked up on what Vernon was thinking. "No, no," he refuted, "look, Uncle Vernon!"

And Look Vernon did. Reading the letter several times over, he glanced between his nephew and it and decided this was just too elaborate to have been written by an eleven-year-old boy whose penmanship was little better than chicken scratch. Finally, Vernon said, "You write them back this instant Harry and let them know I want some answers. There's no way in hell I'm letting this go uninvestigated."

The boy nodded, scrambling for a pencil and piece of paper.

Looking toward the window, Vernon gave a gasp when he saw that the owl was still there. It was watching them, beady eyes far too intelligent for it to be a regular old owl. He hated it.

"Okay, Uncle Vernon! I wrote them that you want to speak to someone!" Harry exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement.

Tipping his head toward the window, he said, "Why don't you slide it beneath there? The owl must be waiting for your response."

Flashing him a grin, Harry did not hesitate to do so.

Once the letter was in the bird's beak, it was off. Watching it disappear from view with his nephew, Vernon told him, "Even after they explain everything, I'm not necessarily going to let you go there."

Harry's smile ran away from his face. "Oh," he whispered glumly.

"Are you that surprised?" Vernon asked miffed. "What kind of loony would I have to be to just let my Pet's nephew go off to a school I know nothing about when I could send you to my own alma mater that I know to be safe and good?" he posed to Harry, hoping this would help the boy understand his hesitancy.

"That - that makes sense..." Harry relented.

Putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as he lead him back toward the dining room, Vernon agreed, "Yes, it does. What's best for you matters very much to me." Giving Harry a bit of a smile, even though all he wanted to do was scowl, he suggested, "Why don't we just finish opening your presents, hm?"

"Okay, Uncle Vernon…"

-v-v-v-

Twitching restlessly as he watched Harry and Dudley ride their bikes up and down the street, Vernon wished he hadn't decided against going to work today. Yes, that odd letter had made him nervous and he wanted to be here for the reply, but he'd feel so much better if he had something to do.

"Mister Dursley?" Missis Whitmore called.

Looking away from the window, he saw the woman staring at him with a worried expression. "Yes?" he asked.

"That...owl. Is that why you decided to stay home today?" she questioned.

Vernon saw no point in lying. "Yes," he answered. "It had a strange letter with it and I'm waiting to see what kind of reply we get."

"You asked for Harry to come to the kitchen," she pointed out.

He nodded. "The letter was for him."

"Ah," Missis Whitmore replied. "That's..."

"Not so odd, now, is it?" Vernon snorted.

Missis Whitmore sighed. "No, not as much," she answered.

Moments later, Harry and Dudley came trotting up the driveway with an older woman between them. Tensing at the sight, Vernon told Missis Whitmore, "Please get something for tea together, I have a feeling she's the answer to our reply."

"Yes, Mister Dursley," she said as she headed for the kitchen.

-v-v-v-

A short while later, after saying goodbye to his son and Missis Whitmore - whom he'd asked to take Dudley out to the toy store - Vernon took a seat on the sofa beside his scrawny nephew. He then turned a glare on the woman who'd introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall. Watching her take a sip of tea, he frowned and demanded, "What's the big idea sending a letter with an owl? Don't you know that's the best way to give a person a heart attack?"

"That's the way wizards and witches do things Mister Dursley. Hasn't your wife explained such basic things to you?" she questioned, looking a little disapproving.

Vernon felt his heart give a pang. What was this woman playing at? It was in all the school records for his son and nephew that his wife was dead.

"She's dead," he answered. "Has been just a little less than ten years now."

"Dead? But that woman in your home the night we left Harry..." Missis McGonagall whispered, face ashen and a furrow of confusion between her brows.

Vernon had to think about it a moment, but he did know who she was talking about – even if he didn't like what that meant. This woman had been spying on his home! But that couldn't be addressed right now, he knew.

"That was my sister, Marge," he answered. "She left after I decided to keep Harry," he explained.

A pitying look came to the woman's gaze as she picked up her cup of tea. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured in condolence.

The man shrugged. "Yes, well," he blustered. "Now, what I would like to know is how Harry came to find himself on my doorstep."

"Didn't you read the letter that came with Harry?" Missis McGonagall questioned.

Vernon shook his head. "Blew away," he replied.

"Then what have you been telling Harry all this time?"

"About what?" he asked, confused.

Her face pulled into an annoyed expression. "About what happened to his parents!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"I've been telling him my best guess, given what my Pet told me about her sister, that she or her husband abandoned him here when they couldn't care for him anymore."

Looking horrified, the woman glanced between Vernon and his nephew. "That's the farthest thing from the truth," she declared. "James and Lily would have never done such a thing. Harry was left here after they were killed by a despicable wizard." Then, shifting to face Vernon's nephew fully, she told him, face fierce, "They loved you, Harry,"

"I...you knew them well, then?" Harry inquired in a small, hopeful voice.

Missis McGonagall nodded. "I was their Head of House at Hogwarts. Both were two of the bravest, brightest people I ever knew," she said to Harry.

This drew a smile from Harry. "Yeah?"

Clearing his throat, Vernon broke in, "About this school, Hogwarts.It teaches one how to be a witch or wizard, correct? And if yes, what kind of poppycock is that? Everyone knows magic is not real!"

A smirk came to the woman's lips as she drew out a long, thin stick and jabbed it at the teapot - only for said teapot to become a clock. Gasping, Vernon grabbed at his chest as Harry let out an appreciative noise.

"Not poppycock anymore, is it?" she inquired, looking far too pleased with herself.

Vernon didn't want to believe it, but it'd reshaped itself before his very eyes like nothing else he'd ever seen. So, if magic was real… Well, that explained Harry's strangeness, didn't it? Maybe it was a good thing there was a school for odd little boys like him, then. Vernon had been becoming more and more apprehensive about sending Harry off to Smeltings, fearing what his nephew's association with his name would do for the Dursley reputation there.

But he couldn't look like he was giving in too easily to sending Harry there. That wouldn't do for the lad, as Harry would think Vernon was glad to be rid of him. That wasn't quite it at all, and Vernon didn't want his nephew to come away from this talk today with that impression.

So, putting on his most dubious expression he asked, "Is this a good school by your kind's standards?"

"The best in all of Britain," the old woman declared proudly. "And Harry would be getting the very best education possible for a wizard like himself if he were to attend Hogwarts."

Nodding at this, the man looked at his nephew and the woman. While he was sure this was the best route for Harry, he couldn't be the one making all the decisions anymore. Harry was eleven. He had the right to choose if he wanted to be a - a wizard or something ordinary and respectable like a postman or pansy-librarian.

So, drawing his nephew's stare, he made sure his expression was grave as he told the lad, "Harry since this is your future, I suppose it's up to you to decide. Do you want to go to Hogwarts, or would you rather go to Smeltings like Dudley?"

Harry, green eyes wide, bit his lip. "Whatever you think's best, Uncle Vernon," he mumbled. "I just want you to be proud of me - like you are of Dudley."

Vernon didn't know what to say to that. He'd never thought Harry cared so greatly about his opinion. After all, he was just his uncle - not his father. He'd always done his best to make it clear to his nephew that he'd taken him in all those years ago in memory of his Pet and unborn child. It had always been about duty. Nothing more and nothing less.

Somehow, it seemed he'd failed to impress that upon the boy over the last ten years. Vernon might have cared enough to try and raise him right, but never enough to feel any of the real, parental emotions and concerns he did with Dudley. Sometimes, Vernon had tried, simply because it felt wrong not to love his nephew like he did his son after caring for him for so many years. It was always in those moments of fear, however, that he'd remember that Harry once had a father. He may have been a bad one, but if Harry's father had been capable of love, he must have loved the boy more than Vernon ever possibly could.

It was thanks to this idea that Vernon could forgive himself for his lack of feelings for the lad. Even if he were to somehow find the reserves to love the lad, he'd never love him as much as his father did and so, it was okay. As long as he did the right thing and raised him to be a respectable member of society, Vernon would have done his job as his guardian and that was good enough for him.

Eventually, he explained slowly, "Harry, this isn't about making me proud, this is about you.But if you really need my opinion… I've always thought you'd grow up to be something bookish and pansy-like, like a schoolteacher or librarian. Now, if you want to go to this… school, you should. It's probably full of boys and girls just like you, I'll even bet my shorts you'll fit in better there than you will at Smeltings with Dudley. Maybe you'll even become something greater than a sissy teacher that way."

Shoulders slumped in a defeated position by the end of Vernon's speech, Harry sighed. "If you think it's best..." he trailed off.

"I do," Vernon assured. "It's always been bloody obvious to me you never fit here, maybe there will suit you more."

Nodding, Harry turned to the woman watching them with a severe frown and said, "I'd like to go to Hogwarts, please, ma'am."

"Excellent choice, Mister Potter," she praised, frown disappearing only to be replaced with a small smile. "I look forward to seeing you in our halls - and if I'm ever so lucky, my house."

"Like my mum and dad?" Harry inquired softly.

Eyes warm, the older woman dipped her head in agreement. "Yes, just like them."

Lips curving upward, Harry said, "I'd like that too, ma'am."

Flashing one last grin, the woman then reached for one of the brochures she'd set on the table and opened it, beginning to explain how they were to go about getting Harry's supplies for school.

Vernon, however, couldn't help his drifting thoughts.

He was relieved to hear Harry's parents hadn't abandoned him all those years ago (which meant they weren't the total derelicts he believed them to be), but it brought to light so many questions he'd never thought he'd have to ask himself. If magic was real, why had Petunia never said anything? Why had she hidden the fact her sister was a witch and Lily's husband a wizard? Did she think he'd have her committed? Truth be told, he probably would have tried to, but if she'd had such awesome proof like Missis McGonagall, he'd have believed her.

Vernon would have believed in her as he believed in her about everything she told him. He would have expected Harry's strangeness when he landed on his doorstep and he would have already formulated a plan as for how to handle it.

But, instead, his wife had left him blindsided and it was only now, nearly ten years after her death that he was being given the whole story.

Even now, though, Vernon knew he was missing things. Just who was this vile wizard who had killed Harry's parents? Why had Harry been brought to him, a normal man, ignorant of magic, when it would have been better for Harry to grow up around other odd people who would have known how to deal with him and his tricks?

Watching the woman as she performed a slight of hand for his nephew, Vernon had a million questions posed on his tongue but knew this was not the time to ask them.

He couldn't ask these things in front of Harry. He was just a boy and didn't deserve to have all his innocence sullied in one day by a single, frank conversation between two adults.

So, instead, tuning back in, Vernon decided he would ask for her address when it came time to leave and he would converse with Missis McGonagall over letters until the school year for Harry began.

Yes, he would do that. Not only would he get the full story that way, but also he'd have an open line of communication with someone within Hogwarts to ensure they were raising his nephew to become the respectable man Vernon always hoped for him to become.

Another chapter done! A little ahead of schedule too :)

How do you feel about this chapter? About Vernon's vitriol reaction to Harry's accidental magic in the first scene and then his acceptance of it in the second half?

Also, since it's likely to be a while before next chapter is up, why not check out a couple of my other stories?

Here's a couple that some of you may enjoy:

Hard Wrought Joy - "Molly always wanted to have children, but when the unthinkable happens, her path to motherhood takes a twisting, winding turn. "

or

Don't Let Me Go - "Throughout the years, many students of Hogwarts have asked to stay for the summer. "

Thanks so much for reading and please review!