I'd like to thank fredfred and InquisitorCOC for beta-reading.

Chapter 3: The Godfather

Valley of the Kings, Egypt, June 20th, 1993

"We've got company, Doc."

Petunia Evans turned away from the fascinating hieroglyphs lining the walls of the tomb where Ramses III's favourite scribe was buried and grabbed the grenade launcher she had put down next to the urn containing the scribe's heart. She knew Bill well; when he used that tone - tense and curt - it meant trouble.

She quickly walked through the passage leading to the outside, past the first fake grave chamber and the few traps they had disabled on the way in, and joined her partner behind the stone cube that had blocked the entrance to the tomb until Bill had moved it - partially shrunk, it served as a ready-made barricade. "What kind of trouble?" It had been two years; there might be another Sand Drake moving into the area.

"Grave robbers, I think," he answered, without looking away from the rocky area surrounding them. "About half a dozen climbing up. I spotted them before they disillusioned themselves."

Climbing, not flying. Did they want to pass as muggles? But the whole side valley in which they had found this tomb was warded against muggles. "No goblins?" she asked, just to make sure, as she grabbed her Omnioculars and started scanning the area.

"Too tall for goblins."

"And there aren't any other teams in this valley," she said. Grave robbers, then. Brave or desperate ones, if they dared to violate Gringotts' exclusive claim. They wouldn't leave any witnesses alive in either case.

"They probably think we've found another high priest's tomb," Bill said. "Too bad we can't let them enter to see how disappointed they are when they realise it's a scholar's tomb."

Even a scholar's tomb contained significant treasure, of course - though not enough to risk Gringotts' ire. But Petunia couldn't help suspecting that these grave robbers were here for the same reasons as her and Bill: to find out more about the research that the dead scribe had done for his ruler - the various ways to achieve immortality.

She spotted a grave robber herself, or rather, the small avalanche of rocks and sand that he caused when climbing up the slope towards them. They weren't close enough for Bill's spells to detect them, but they were close enough for her grenade launcher. More than close enough.

She waited until she spotted another small avalanche, noting the position, then lowered the Omnioculars and took aim with her M79. She only knew the location of the grave robber - but for grenades, that was enough. She pulled the trigger, the characteristic sound startling Bill, as usual.

The grenade took over three seconds to travel the two hundred yards to her target, which meant she had reloaded her launcher and was raising her Omnioculars when the grenade exploded. A few seconds later, the dust and sand thrown up by the grenade had been blown away in the light breeze, and she saw a body on the ground in a spreading pool of blood.

In response, two yellow coloured curses flew towards the entrance of the tomb. Petunia didn't even bother ducking - at that distance, hitting anything with a wand was nearly impossible. While the curses harmlessly hit the slope beneath and to the side of the entrance she returned fire with another high-explosive grenade. That one didn't explode close enough, but it must have startled the grave robber since he cast another spell at her. She took the opportunity to correct her aim, and her next grenade left the rocky outcropping behind the grave robber splattered with his remains.

No more spells came flying at the entrance, which meant they were dealing with reasonably smart enemies. Not smart enough to stay away from Gringotts' territory, but smart enough to realise a tactical mistake. Grave robbers would be fleeing now - there would be other opportunities. Undefended tombs. Undiscovered ones.

But they didn't retreat. She spotted sand and rocks thrown up by someone running towards her. "They're charging!" she told Bill. She wouldn't be able to stop all of them before they got into range. Just spotting one had been fortunate. She let loose with another grenade, reloaded and fired the next, guessing now. It took a third before she heard screaming, and a fourth to shut them up.

"We need to get away! They'll be in range any moment!" Bill said, grabbing her shoulder.

"Into the tomb!" she told him, then dashed down the passage, slinging the M79 over her shoulder.

"What?"

"They're here for this tomb! They won't risk damaging the information inside," she yelled. They were mercenaries, not local grave robbers, or they would have fled. And inside the tomb, their Disillusionment Charms wouldn't help them much while Petunia wouldn't be able to effectively fight them outside once they were close.

Bill obviously didn't share her opinion, but he followed her anyway. They reached the fake grave chamber, and Petunia stepped to the side. "Hold them at the entrance for a minute!"

"Aye aye, Doc," he replied, "one stalling tactic coming up."

She snorted at his mistaken muggle quote and pulled the Russian copy of a Claymore mine out of her backpack, quickly setting it up.

"Alright, fall back to the secret passage!" She was already dashing behind the pillar hiding the door.

"What did you do?" Bill asked as he joined her there, pressing himself against the wall, breathing heavily as he aimed his wand at the door behind them.

"Set up a trap," she answered in a whisper, moving to hug him. "Shield!"

He cast a Shield Charm as he wrapped his free arm around her. "They'll be expecting traps."

The Claymore mine went off before she could answer. The blast's force was aimed away from them, but in the closed confines of the grave, enough of the shockwave was channelled in their direction to pick them up and blow them back several yards. If not for the Shield Charm, they'd have been killed.

Even so, they rolled another few yards, ending up with her on top of him, both bruised and panting. Petunia didn't care. She grinned at him, then rolled off him, drawing her Glocks. "They were expecting magical traps, not a simple tripwire."

"You're crazy, Doc," he retorted as both of them dashed back towards the entrance.

Petunia slid around the pillar into the fake grave chamber, pistols ready. There was a body in the passageway. A mangled body in front of the decoy sarcophagus. And a stain smeared over the wall opposite the mine.

Bill muttered a curse that would cause Molly to blow her top.

And Petunia put two rounds into the body in the passage, just in case the man was faking.

Stupid wizard.

An hour later, they had recovered the bodies - there were bounties to collect, after all - and Bill was repairing the hieroglyphs damaged by the explosion while Petunia was back to deciphering the information in the real grave chamber. She doubted that Voldemort would have opted to become a living mummy - it didn't fit with his ability to possess people either - but knowledge was knowledge. She might be able to trade that knowledge for more useful information.

And, at the very least, she would be able to publish another article in British Archaeology.

Valley of the Kings, Egypt, June 28th, 1993

Standing in the shade of the camp's mess tent, looking at the cordoned-off area for the Portkey arrivals, Petunia checked her watch - IWC, automatic, of course - again. Five minutes left.

"They won't arrive any faster no matter how often you check the time."

She snorted. "Molly won't arrive any later no matter how cool you act."

He chuckled, but it was slightly forced. Not because he actually was nervous about his mother's arrival, of course. He loved his family, and the ribbing from the other Curse-Breakers in the camp wouldn't change that.

But the grave robbers they had killed had turned out to have been foreign mercenaries - probably from the Balkans. Close to where Dumbledore had said Quirrell must have found Voldemort. That didn't have to mean there was a connection, of course. In any case, the camp was quite safe - Gringotts, bless their greed, had doubled the patrols as well as raised the bounties on grave robbers and other intruders, which meant the locals would be eager to catch more mercenaries. And Dumbledore had claimed that it was unlikely that Voldemort would try anything other than orchestrating another attempt to regain a body.

But Petunia couldn't help but worry about Harry, even though he was protected by whatever her sister had done and was travelling with the entire Weasley family except Charlie and Bill. Nothing and no one was completely safe. Not even Hogwarts.

But then the air in front of them shimmered, and eight people appeared, half of them ending up in a pile on the ground while the rest - Arthur, Molly, Percy and Ginny - managed to keep standing.

"I hate Portkey travel," Petunia heard Harry complain from the bottom of the pile and promptly forgot her worries as she went to pull him out and hug him.

"...and this is Ripclaw's tent. He runs the camp. Don't disturb him; he's very grumpy!" Harry explained in a most serious tone to Ron, Ginny and the twins before leading them to the next part of the camp as if he were a tourist guide.

"You've been replaced," Petunia remarked, smiling at the sight.

Bill snorted. "I would say that I've taught my pupil well."

"Keep an eye on them anyway," Molly cut in. "You know how Fred and George are."

"There's not much they can do here," Bill said. "We're in the middle of the desert, and the tombs nearby are sealed."

Petunia coughed. "He's showing them the storage tent. And the spot in the back where you can wriggle under the flap."

"Why wasn't that fixed?" Bill exclaimed.

"Because Harry was the only one small enough to pass through the gap," Petunia said as Bill went to collect his wayward brothers and Harry.

"Storage tent?" Molly asked. "For the treasure?"

Petunia shook her head. "No, they've got a vault for those." She pointed at a small tent in the back with a goblin guard in front of it. "The storage tent is for supplies."

"Ah." Molly smiled, obviously relieved. "No cursed cups then."

Of course, Bill would have told his family that story. "No. Just food, clothes, tents, ropes, explosives, overpriced potions and weapons." Petunia shook her head. "He 'borrowed' a spear the last time he did this, and then 'went hunting'." Ripclaw had charged her double, of course. And hadn't fixed the flap.

"Oh dear." Molly went to join Bill.

Petunia didn't think it would help much. She didn't mind too much, anyway - she much preferred it when Harry explored the storage tent instead of trying to raid an actual tomb.

Valley of the Kings, Egypt, July 5th, 1993

"I wasn't aware of how similar the muggle cultures were," Arthur said as he took a seat next to Petunia at the extended folding table. "I expected more differences, like between Britain and Egypt."

He meant Wizarding Britain and Magical Egypt, of course. Petunia shrugged. "There are a lot of differences as well as similarities. The religion is different, but both muggle Britain and Egypt love football."

"Ah yes! I never understood its appeal myself, but they love it as much as we love Quidditch," Arthur said, beaming. "But I was wondering about the English signs."

"Muggle Britain controlled muggle Egypt for some time," Petunia said. "And English is the lingua franca of the world."

"Really? What about the Ottomans?"

"They lost control over muggle Egypt in the 19th century."

"How peculiar. Imagine if Britain had done the same! Would we have a direct Floo connection to Alexandria?"

"If that's possible," Petunia said.

"So, Britain brought football to Egypt."

"You could say that, yes. Britain invented football," Petunia said, "and it spread."

"But why are some playing it with helmet and armour?"

"That's American Football, a different game."

"Really? How peculiar. Why is it called football then?"

She refrained from groaning. She loved talking shop with Arthur - he was the leading expert in Britain when it came to adapting and enchanting muggle items, and his ideas often had a lot of potential for her work - but she loathed discussing muggle culture with him. Or rather, she hated it when she didn't know the answer to one of his questions, and he looked at her as if she were a failure as a squib for not knowing everything about muggles.

"Arthur? Petunia?" Molly's yell saved her from another such moment. "They're ready to take the picture now, for the article."

Petunia stood and stepped outside the tent. Molly was already lining up her children. Ron was clutching his rat - how you could want a rat as a pet Petunia couldn't understand, but it was apparently a family tradition. Ron often complained about the rat being useless himself, but when Harry had offered to 'accidentally' feed it to a snake it had led to a row that lasted an entire day until Harry had bought his friend a snake-proof cage as a peace offering.

She took her place next to Molly - she didn't want to stand next to Bill, or Skeeter would once again claim they were having an affair; the first 'Boy-Who-Lived's aunt in rebound relationship with young Curse-Breaker' article had been followed by two more over the years, and Petunia was heartily sick of the lies.

While the twins jockeyed for the better spot and the photographer was repeatedly telling them to hold still, Petunia placed her hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently. He put his hand on hers in response and smiled at her over his shoulder.

Hogwarts, August 22nd, 1993

Without any students around, the school felt like a tomb as Petunia walked through the empty hallways towards the Headmaster's office. It was well-lit and clean, but too silent. Too lifeless. If that was how it felt at night, then it was clear why Harry and his friends loved 'exploring' the school so much.

She reached the gargoyle guarding the stairs to Dumbledore's office. One of his insecure passwords - "Mars Bars" - and a short climb later, she entered the office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Evans. I'm glad you found the time for this meeting. Please have a seat."

She almost snorted. As if she could have refused Dumbledore's 'invitation'. "Headmaster." She nodded at him. "Mr Black." She nodded at the gaunt man in ill-fitting new robes sitting in one of the visitor's chairs before sitting down herself.

"Hello," Black answered with a weak, forced smile - after, she noted, looking around. His hair hadn't seen a stylist in years, she guessed. And his beard looked in dire need of professional help.

"I gather that you are aware of Sirius's circumstances," Dumbledore said with his usual polite and patronising expression.

"I could hardly miss the greatest scandal in years." She snorted. "The Prophet covered the affair extensively. The Ministry, on the other hand, hasn't bothered to contact me." They finally found new evidence concerning her sister's murder - if you could call finally giving Black a trial after twelve years in Azkaban 'finding new evidence' - and even arrested Pettigrew, but didn't deign to tell the squib.

"Figures," mumbled Black.

"The Ministry's laws and procedures are in obvious need of reform," Dumbledore said, "although the middle of a crisis is hardly the best time to introduce changes. I apologise for not contacting you myself, but I deemed it more important to ensure a fair trial for everyone involved."

"And you didn't want a squib to make a scene," Petunia said. Couldn't he have sent her a note? It had hurt both her and Harry to hear about this affair from the Prophet's Saturday issue.

"That wasn't a consideration, I assure you. Out of concern for Harry's safety, I had your address removed from the Ministry's records." Dumbledore smiled as if that explained everything.

"They could have contacted me through my publisher. The Lovegoods forward any mail to me," Petunia said.

"The current Ministry's laws and regulations only cover informing magical relatives in such cases." Dumbledore had the grace to look embarrassed. "It would have been Harry's responsibility to inform you."

She clenched her teeth and swallowed her first retort. "I'm not surprised," she spat.

"Me neither," Black said. "I had to break out of my cell and take a hostage before they would inform Dumbledore that I needed to talk to him about the traitor."

"And it took you twelve years to do that?" Petunia snapped, then pressed her lips together. She hadn't meant to blurt that out.

He clenched his teeth and glared at her, then looked away and took a deep breath. "Yes."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I do not think that focusing on past mistakes will do anyone any good. We're here to talk about the future. You are aware that Sirius is Harry's godfather."

"Yes." She remembered Lily telling her. She hadn't been impressed then, and she wasn't impressed now. She crossed her arms.

"James wanted me to take care of Harry," Black blurted out.

She glared at him. He didn't look as if he could take care of himself. "And Lily entrusted Harry to me." By creating the blood protection that tied them together. Which meant that there was no way Dumbledore would let anyone take Harry from her.

"I'm not trying to take him away," Black said. "I just want to… I want to see him. Be there for him. Make up for…" he trailed off and swallowed.

Petunia felt pity for the man. To suffer for over a decade in Azkaban… She had met a Dementor, once. It had been sealed in a tomb in Egypt. If not for Bill's Patronus Charm, and his quick resealing of the tomb, Petunia would have been kissed. Even so, she shuddered at the memory of the cold and despair she had felt then. She forced the memories and the pity away. This was about Harry, not her or Sirius.

But before she could decide what to say, Dumbledore spoke up: "I am certain that visits can be arranged."

"Once he's up to it," Petunia said. Which should be Christmas at the earliest, given how sorry the man looked. Next summer would be better.

Black looked up at once. "What's wrong with Harry? What did you tell him?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was talking about you," she explained.

"Oh." He blinked, then grinned. "I'm ready. We can go see him now!"

Over her dead body!

Cokeworth, Midlands, Britain, August 23rd, 1993

"...and then James sat up, rubbed his cheek, and told me: 'I'm going to marry that witch!' And I told him: 'James, she'll kill you.' And he said: 'It'll be worth it!'"

Harry laughed. "I never knew that."

"It was their first meeting - on the Hogwarts Express." Black grinned. "I thought he was insane - talking about marriage at our age!"

Harry nodded sagely. "Yes. You shouldn't limit your options like that until you're at least thirty."

Black blinked, then chuckled. "So you're a little heartbreaker, are you?"

Harry grinned in his best - or worst - imitation of Bill. "I try my best."

Petunia wanted to hit Bill for teaching Harry his views on girls. And Black for making Harry laugh like that. And Lily, for not telling her those stories about James. And herself, for not listening to her sister when she talked about her boyfriend.

Instead, she busied herself with brewing up a fresh pot of tea as Black started telling his rapt audience another story about Harry's father. This was good for Harry - Dumbledore, damn him, had been right. Again. And she should be happy for her nephew.

But she couldn't help feeling jealous of Black.

Cokeworth, Midlands, Britain, August 25th, 1993

Petunia frowned when she saw through the spyhole that Black was standing in front of her door and had brought another man with him. A vaguely familiar man, actually. She narrowed her eyes when she finally placed the stranger. Lupin, another of James's friends. Both were wearing dated muggle clothes. Very dated ones.

She schooled her features before opening the door. "Mr Black. Mr Lupin."

"Call me Sirius. This is Remus," Black said with a far too wide smile. "I've brought him with me so you can meet him."

She didn't bother to hide her sarcasm. "How thoughtful of you."

But before she could give them a piece of her mind for arriving without notice or invitation, Harry appeared at her side. "Sirius!" he exclaimed. "You came!"

"Of course I did!" Black said, beaming at Harry. "And this is Remus, another friend of your father's. And your new Defence teacher!"

Petunia forced herself to smile as she took a step back and gestured towards the living room. "Please, come in."

The two visitors had barely taken their seats on the couch when Harry suddenly gasped. "You're our new Defence teacher? But there's a curse on the post!"

That was a good point. Petunia should have thought of it herself. She blamed Black springing this surprise on her.

"Well," Lupin began, "Dumbledore is of the opinion - and I agree with him - that the curse has been broken. My predecessor certainly wasn't prevented from extending his contract: he decided himself that he would prefer to write a book and continue his adventures."

"Too bad." Harry scowled, then added, after noticing the surprised expressions on the two wizards' faces: "He deserved to get cursed."

Petunia coughed and put her hand on Harry's arm before he told Black and Lupin about her history with Lockhart. "Let Mr Lupin continue, dear."

"Ah, yes." Lupin coughed. "As I was saying, my predecessor wasn't affected by the curse. We think that the Dark Lord either broke the curse to protect the man he was possessing from suffering ill effects or that the curse's condition was fulfilled when the Dark Lord effectively, if indirectly, started teaching at Hogwarts." He smiled, though rather weakly. "That's why I took the post."

"Ah." Harry nodded. "That makes sense. Curses which are as strong as that one would require conditions."

"He's going to be a Curse-Breaker," Black cut in with a grin.

Petunia refrained from glaring at the man. He hadn't raised Harry; it was her who had taken him to Egypt, where he had met Bill and the other Curse-Breakers!

"Are you planning to stay on as teacher, then?" Harry asked.

Lupin nodded.

"Moony finally found a job that suits him. He was always lecturing us when he was a prefect," Black said, chuckling, "even though he broke almost as many rules as I did."

Of course, Harry perked up at hearing that. "And my dad broke even more rules and was Head Boy!"

"Exactly!" Black nodded. "We were veritable terrors - taught the snakes to fear us."

"The snakes?" Harry frowned, then smiled. "Ah, the Slytherins."

"Yes, of course," Black said. "Slimy snakes."

Lupin, though, seemed to be more perceptive. "Do you like snakes, Harry?"

"Yes, I do," Harry smiled widely. "Snakes are cool!" He pouted. "But Aunt Petunia doesn't want a snake in the house."

Petunia's glare left no doubt that the two wizards would better agree with her stance, or else.

"Please put the cups on the counter," Petunia told Lupin as he followed her into the kitchen while Black was still regaling Harry with another of his stories about Hogwarts. So much for the tale that Dementors fed on memories.

Once Lupin had done so and was turning to rejoin his friend in the living room, she held up her hand. "A moment of your time, please."

"Yes?" He turned back to her.

Petunia lowered her voice. "You were a prefect. That implies that you had good grades. More importantly, Dumbledore obviously thinks you're good enough to teach at Hogwarts. What were you doing until now?" She leaned forward. The way he was fidgeting, he was hiding something.

He winced. "After James and Lily were murdered, and it looked as if Peter - Pettigrew - had been murdered as well, and that Sirius had betrayed us all, I was in a bad place. I wanted to forget everything. I didn't care about anything any more." He sighed. "It was cowardly, but… I felt as if I had lost everything that mattered. All my friends."

"Harry was alive."

He nodded. "I know. But I felt as if it was my fault. I should have noticed the traitor."

"You were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to visit?"

He flinched, then nodded. "You could say that."

"Ah." She nodded. "Let's rejoin the others." She let him go first so she could frown behind his back. That man didn't sound nor look like he was fit to teach anyone. Had Dumbledore dragged him out of a bottle a month ago? He didn't look like an alcoholic, though, but those scars…

Maybe he had been in prison as well? She'd have to ask Dumbledore.

London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, October 11th, 1993

"Welcome to the ancestral manor of the Blacks!" Black greeted her and Bill with one of his too wide, forced smiles. He was wearing expensive dress robes, though they didn't look new. And his hair was still long, but much better styled now. His beard was groomed as well.

"Good morning, Mr Black." Petunia nodded at him as she looked around. She was wearing jeans and a turtleneck under a jacket. Bill wore a similar outfit.

The entrance hall they had just set foot in was dark and dusty with worn carpets and drapes. There even was a hole in the wall opposite the door, big enough to walk through.

"Call me Sirius!" Black said. "Mr Black was my father, and we didn't get along."

Petunia was about to refuse when Bill spoke up with his usual friendly smile. "Call me Bill then."

She forced herself to smile. "Petunia."

"Do your friends call you Pet?" Black asked.

"No," Petunia said emphatically, ignoring Bill's coughing fit. She hoped that her partner knew better than to bring that up ever again. "You didn't pay Gringotts just so you could talk about our names, though." At least she hoped he didn't. It took a substantial sum to get the goblins to agree to send them back to England for a meeting, instead of having them keep raiding tombs.

"You're right; I didn't." Black gestured at the stairs behind him. "As you can see, the house is in bad shape."

"We're not interior decorators," Petunia commented.

He laughed at that. "I know! But you've got experience in breaking into cursed tombs and clearing them out. And I need such people." He scowled. "My parents were never what you would call stable, but after my father and brother died, and I was sent to Azkaban, my mother apparently went insane. She had the entire house covered in traps and curses. Took me weeks to clean up the entrance hall and my own room. And three trips to St Mungo's." He pointed at the hole in the wall. "I had to blow up her portrait, too - couldn't get it to shut up." He sighed, then smiled. "So I thought I should hire professionals. And you two come highly recommended!"

Petunia didn't think that her nephew was an authority on the quality of Curse-Breakers. He was obviously biased, too. "You are aware of our daily rates, Sirius?"

He grinned, showing his teeth. "You are aware of the legendary Black fortune, Petunia? Money is no concern!"

The goblins wouldn't let her refuse such a contract. She glanced at Bill, who nodded with a grin. Sighing, she nodded herself. "We have a deal then."

"Splendid!" Black shook her hand, then clapped. "Do you want to live here for the duration? I've already picked out the best rooms for you and Harry!"

So that was his plan. She should have known.

London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, October 15th, 1993

"Watch out!" Petunia yelled, dropping to the floor as the drapes to their left suddenly flew up and tried to engulf her. She drew her pistols as she rolled over her shoulder, came up in a crouch and fired six shots into the moving fabric - to no effect.

Bill had jumped to the other side and sent a Cutting Curse at the drapes. The spell sliced clean through them but didn't seem to affect or hinder them.

"Set them on fire!" Petunia yelled.

Unlike during their few first days on this job, Bill no longer hesitated. A spell later, the drapes were burning merrily, and they stopped moving before the flames reached the ceiling. After a few Vanishing Charms, the hallway was safe again - just in time for Sirius's arrival.

"I heard shots! Did you find another monster?" He sniffed the air, then frowned at the slightly scorched walls. "Did you try to burn down my home again?" he asked. Judging by the tears in his robes, he still hadn't 'pacified' the winter garden, which apparently had been taken over by a fire-resistant variety of Razor Grass.

Petunia shook her head. "No. Just some clingy drapes. Trust us - when we finally decide that the house is beyond saving, we'll tell you so you can do the honours."

He chuckled at that. "Don't tempt me!" He looked down the hallway. "Think the drapes there are trapped as well?"

Petunia shrugged. "Perhaps. Your mother didn't seem to have had any scheme for her traps." In her opinion, the witch really must have been insane. She had seen tombs of pharaohs with fewer traps and curses. And the house-elf wasn't any better.

"Well, feel free to destroy them as well - I'd get rid of them anyway." He nodded at them, then went back to battling blood-thirsty plants.

Petunia stretched, holstered her Glocks and studied the hallway. "There are two patches on the floor where there's less dust," she pointed out.

"Pitfalls?"

"Perhaps." Trapdoors opening on to Extension Charms were rare in Egyptian tombs but they weren't that different from regular pitfalls - other than that they could be hidden on any flat surface. Or in a bed.

Bill sighed, conjured his fourth pig for the day - he had used dogs at first, but Sirius had vetoed that - and sent it down the hallway. The animal had barely touched the first suspicious area when the carpet section there suddenly turned into a gaping maw. A second later, the squealing pig had vanished, and the carpet looked perfectly normal again - but for the blood stains around it.

Petunia looked at Bill. "And you made fun of The Quibbler's article covering Carpet Crocodiles."

He frowned at her. "That could be a simple spell, not an animal."

She shrugged. "Either way, it looks exactly like the animal described in the article." She pulled out a grenade and tied a piece of string to the ring. "Stick that to the next pig."

It turned out that whatever the Carpet Crocodiles were, spells or conjured animals, they couldn't handle a grenade exploding inside them.

"Carpet Crocodiles?" Sirius stared at her, his meal momentarily forgotten.

"Yes. The Quibbler had an article about them, three years ago," Petunia said before taking another bite of her sandwich.

"They looked like the animals described in the article," Bill cut in, "but they could have been simple spells. They turned into normal carpet sections after we blew them up."

"You blew them up?" Sirius's eyebrows rose.

"Yes," Petunia said. "And turning into pieces of carpet is normal for Carpet Crocodiles. According to Lovegood."

Sirius shook his head. "I need to check if my mother read The Quibbler."

"If she did, then we have a new question to answer," Petunia said. "Which was there first? The crocodile or the article?" She grinned as he frowned.

He huffed, then smiled. "I have to say that I'm impressed with your work so far."

"Oh?" That was an abrupt change of subject.

"Yes. You've exceeded my expectations - but for one thing."

"And what would that be?" Petunia asked, frowning.

"I thought you'd be wearing your Curse-Breaker clothes. Harry sent me pictures in his last letter." Sirius grinned at her.

"My…" she trailed off, glaring at him. "Those are my desert clothes, not my 'Curse-Breaker clothes'." She was a tomb raider and archaeologist, not a Curse-Breaker anyway - squibs couldn't become Curse-Breakers.

He was unfazed by her glare. His grin grew even wider. "Maybe I should hire you to deal with the Blacks' properties in Algiers then."

And Petunia needed to talk to Harry about sending pictures of her in short shorts and tank tops to his godfather. And, she added to herself with a glance at the grinning Bill, talk to her partner about supporting her.

London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, November 16th, 1993

"It's finally done," Petunia announced as she entered Sirius's study. "We've cleared the last room in the basement." The house still needed a full refurbishment, but Sirius had already started on that.

He beamed at her. "Great! Did you find any skeletons? My mother always said we used to bury our enemies alive down there."

"The only skeletons we found were those of rats and mice," she replied. "So, unless the Blacks had blood feuds with the local rodents, I think your mother lied to you."

He laughed. "I wouldn't put it past us - my ancestors could be very petty. Did I tell you that my great-great-uncle once bought up all the owls in Diagon Alley for a year because a school rival had mentioned that he was planning to buy one?"

That was a new one. "What did he do with all those owls?"

Sirius shrugged. "Apparently, he tried to find a way to make them carry cursed letters to his enemies. The post owl population took five years to recover from those dark times."

She couldn't tell if he was serious or making things up. She laughed anyway. "You know, I've said it before, but you spent more gold on Bill and me than it would have cost to raze the building and rebuild it." That would have ruined the wards on it, of course, which were near-irreplaceable due to their age and the many now illegal spells used in their creation.

He didn't mention that, though. Instead, he grinned at her. "Money well spent, I say. Even if you never wore your desert clothes. Not even when I adjusted the heating charms."

She shook her head at him. "In any case, our work is done. Gringotts thanks you for your business."

He shook her hand. "Will you be returning to Egypt, then?"

"Yes." It was the most lucrative job for any Curse-Breaker or tomb raider.

"But you'll come back for Christmas, won't you?"

"Yes." She had to - Harry had to spend a certain time per year in their home in Cokeworth.

"Splendid! We can celebrate Christmas together!"

She forced herself to keep smiling. She wasn't happy with the way Sirius assumed that he was part of Harry's life, but Harry had already written her that he was looking forward to a Christmas with Sirius - and with Remus, whom the Headmaster 'trusted implicitly' without telling her why.

For all his talk about Gryffindor values, Sirius could be very cunning.

But she wasn't beaten yet.

Cokeworth, Midlands, Britain, December 25th, 1993

"Open it! Open it!"

Sirius looked more excited about his gift for Harry than Harry himself, Petunia thought as she watched the two of them on the couch. For a man his age, he could behave rather childishly. But then, for a man who spent over ten years in Azkaban, he was remarkably sane.

Harry ripped the wrapping off, revealing a long case. A broom, of course - that had been obvious from the start to both of them. He flipped it open, gasped and screamed. "A Firebolt!"

Petunia winced at the volume, then also gasped. A Firebolt? That was the most expensive broom on the market! She was earning very good money as a tomb raider, but she wouldn't be able to afford such a broom for Harry.

Sirius, though, could. And Harry was hugging him, obviously happy beyond belief.

"We'll win the cup for sure now!" her nephew exclaimed.

"Exactly!"

Petunia started to collect the torn wrapping. Harry was happy, and that was what counted. She shouldn't be jealous of Sirius for spoiling him - she would do the same if she had the gold.

But she didn't have the gold.

And, she added as she saw Sirius draw his wand to teach Harry 'a broom cleaning charm', helped by Lupin, she couldn't teach him any spells either.

She was just a squib.