Chapter 1
|Every Child Deserves Normal|

Dudley frowned as he looked at the report in front of him, alarm bells going off in his head. He knew that he tended to take these kinds of cases a bit… personally, and that doing so was very much frowned upon in his profession, but being a professional he was well aware of the limits of controlling your own trauma responses without help.

Her grades are consistently below what her teachers think she's capable of, she's quiet and skittish in classes, avoids socializing with other kids… These things, even taken together, were concerning but not necessarily alarming. Kids often experienced cruelty from their peers, and many kids that experienced bullying displayed these signs. That was something that the school would want to address and try to fix, of course. But it took more than just these signs for a report to land on his desk instead of one of the school counselors. No, it was the rest of the report that was setting off sirens in his head and causing his pulse to quicken.

Underweight… often wears shoddy clothing… has shown up to class with two injuries she refuses to explain in the last month… Dudley looked over at her personal records again. She doesn't have any family in the same school, so I don't have to worry about someone reporting back home about a meeting. But it's still important to be discrete.

"Candice," Dudley called out to his assistant. "I need you to get me a call with the staff at school 44, if you have a free moment. I might have a case there."

"Of course, Mr. Dursley," she called back from the desk just outside his office door.

He leaned back and started planning in his head. He would ask the staff to pull her out of class once the school day began tomorrow for an appointment with the school nurse. He might even take her to see the nurse if his concerns seemed to be founded. He looked back down at the report in front of him and felt his stomach churn a little.

Growing up, all his parents had ever talked about was being "normal". They wanted a "normal" life for themselves, and a "normal" life for their son. They had acted like "normal" was a recipe with ingredients, such as trips to the zoo, an allowance, and presents at your birthday, and the more of these things he'd had, the more "normal" his life would be. But his cousin had been given a rather different recipe for what "normal" was, with rather different ingredients, and his parents had been just as insistent that the more of those things Harry got, the more "normal" his life would be.

Parents or guardians who abused children usually fell into one of three categories: those who did not want to be a parent at all and felt only burdened by their children, those who took out their own frustrations and emotions on children because the child was unable to resist, and those who thought that such abuse was "normal". All three were their own special kind of terrible human.

Yet, in spite of what his own parents had said, Dudley saw himself as "defending normality". It was not normal for a child to be abused. He was, in his own opinion, more "normal" than his parents ever were or could ever hope to be.

"Mr. Dursley," Candice called out as she walked into his office, breaking him from his thoughts. "What is it you'd like me to tell the staff?"

"Tell them that the Office of Child Welfare needs them to discretely pull Lyra Davies from her classes for an appointment with the school nurse tomorrow at 10, and send her to me. We'll be at the school tomorrow."

"Oh?" Candice perked up. "You're taking me on this one?"

"Yes," Dudley said, nodding. "You're still in training, and I'll be interested in hearing what you make of the interview." He paused for a moment. "It might also be helpful to have someone who presents feminine there. We don't know if that will matter, but there are certain ways the interview could go that would be… unkind to put her through with me."

Candice's lips tightened as she understood what Dudley was getting at.

"Is that something you suspect, or…?"

"No," Dudley told her. "But that doesn't mean we should discount it." He brought his eyes directly to Candice's, a serious look on his face. "Our goal is to try and make sure that all these kids have as much of a normal life as possible. That means we have to be prepared for encountering everything not-normal." He gave her a significant look. He had already trained her extensively on what 'not-normal' meant… and didn't mean.

"Right," she said softly, her face tense and anxious. Dudley thought this line of work was probably something she would want to get out of soon. It was hard on people to confront this kind of thing, and that was basically what their entire job was. Truthfully, it probably took someone like Dudley to endure this line of work on a long term basis. Someone who had experienced it before becoming a professional.

The colleagues he had that had been with the Office for a while tended to have been abused themselves as children, or been abusers as children due to their own abuse. It was mandatory for all of the case workers to keep their own regular therapy appointments.

But Candice, whatever her own past might be, did seem quite determined to do the job any time Dudley gave her an opportunity. He didn't know what had drawn her to this Office, and it would of course be quite impolite to ask, so he wasn't going to avoid her training and experience until she made it clear that she wanted out.

"Look over the file after you make the call," Dudley said, gathering the papers and passing them to her. "We can plan our strategy for tomorrow once everything is arranged at the school."

Jinani Dursley knew as soon as the door opened that her husband would need a strong cup of tea and half an hour to decompress. She would never be able to describe exactly why she could tell, there was just something in the sounds he made as he shuffled at the entrance that was different on days that he needed to mentally unwind from work. She hoped that it wasn't something that had gone as far as the courts that had him stressed… testifying in the kinds of cases he was called on for were always emotionally taxing, but fortunately rare.

She set the kettle to start with the water and looked in the cupboard for Dudley's favorite blend.

"Muuuum, Harry did it again!"

"I did not!" the boy shouted back. "It's not my fault!"

Jinani turned with a frown as her two oldest children walked into the kitchen.

"Harry," she said softly. "I know you want your own GameBoy, and you know that we're planning on getting you one for your birthday, but you can't keep taking your sister's GameBoy into your room without asking." She gave him a stern look, but felt herself nearly swayed by the expression on his face. "Your sister worked chores around the house and for the neighbors for six months to buy it on her own."

"But I didn't take it mum!" Harry protested. "I don't know how it got in my room! Azari even had her room locked! I couldn't have even gotten in!" He turned to his sister with a scowl. "She's probably just trying to get me in trouble."

"You're lying!" Azari shouted back, a look of pure outrage on her face.

"Your room wasn't locked, Ari?" Jinani asked patiently. Her daughter's face faltered slightly.

"Well… it was, but I didn't put it in Harry's room!"

Jinani let out a sigh as she looked between the two suspiciously. She was never as good at telling when her children were lying as Dudley was, and she wasn't sure what to think about this argument. She turned her head as she heard her husband walk into the kitchen, obviously having overheard.

"Harry," he said calmly, looking their son in the eyes. "Did you take the GameBoy?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably under his father's stare. The kids were all well aware that they weren't capable of lying to their father effectively.

"No Sir," he said softly. Dudley nodded and turned to Azari.

"Did you put your GameBoy in Harry's room to get him in trouble?"

"No Sir." Dudley nodded again after a moment.

"I believe you," he said, glancing between them. "Both of you."

"But…" Azari protested weekly. "How did it get there then?"

"Your sister Heather could have done it," Dudley pointed out. His face morphed from his serious expression into a mischievous grin. "Or maybe the GameBoy decided it preferred being in Harry's room, you never know."

Azari rolled her eyes, well used to her father's odd sense of humor. Dudley look at Harry again. He was sturdy for a boy his age, but not at all overweight like he'd been at that age. Other than that, he looked much more like his mother, including her darker skin and prominent cheekbones.

"Now that you know you're not in trouble Harry, why don't you tell your sister what we've talked about."

Harry's face changed to a look of concentration, and then, determination.

"Azari," he said, turning to face his younger sister, "even if it wasn't my fault, I'm sorry how this made you feel." He paused and glanced at his father again who nodded encouragingly. Looking down at the floor, Harry continued. "I know that having my things touched makes me unhappy, so I understand why you're unhappy."

Azari's brows furrowed. She had been sure that Harry had taken her GameBoy, but papa believed him… and papa always knew.

"Have you really not been taking it? Even the times before?"

"I swear!" Harry said emphatically, looking up at her. Her expression got even more confused and uncertain.

"Okay," she said softly. "Thanks for… understanding. And I'm sorry about accusing you."

They stared at each other for a few moments and Azari held out her hand.

"Ari, Harry, you know the house rule," Dudley said, watching them. "If you shake on it, then it's over. No more holding it against each other, no more grudge about this, no more arguing about it. Don't shake unless you mean it, it's okay to keep feeling upset for a while if you need to."

Azari nodded but was looking at Harry questioningly. He hesitated a moment before reaching out and shaking her hand.

"If it, er, decides it prefers being in my room again for some reason, I'll bring it straight back if I see it," Harry told her.

"Okay," she said, a grin forming on her face. "Deal."

The pair walked off quickly, an apparently serious conversation about a board game they were playing starting within a few steps as they left the room, as if the argument never happened.

Jinani glanced at Dudley then startled as she heard the kettle beginning to sound from behind her. She turned and continued making the tea for her husband.

"You think Heather is the one doing it?" she asked him. She turned and handed the mug of tea to him, a curious expression on her face. "This is the third time."

"No, Angel," Dudley said, taking a sip and closing his eyes for a moment as he smiled softly. "I think the GameBoy just prefers Harry's room."

Jinani rolled her eyes but found a grin forming on her own face.

"I don't think Azari will find that to be an acceptable explanation if it keeps happening," she pointed out.

"No," Dudley said with a sigh and a somewhat distant expression. "Probably not."

She watched him curiously, wondering what he was thinking about.

"It… might be pretty close to the truth though," Dudley said. Only the expression on her husband's face prevented her from scoffing.

"What… uh… what do you mean by that?" she asked confused.

Dudley looked at his wife with an uncertainty she had never seen on his face before. He had noticed things, small things, over the last few years. They had been such minor things that at first, Dudley had dismissed them, but now he was starting to wonder if his son shared more in common than just a name with his cousin.

"It's… umm…" Dudley wasn't even sure that his suspicions were correct. His cousin's signs of magic had been much more blatant than any of the odd things that happened around his son. But even if he was correct, he had no idea how to explain it to his wife, or if he even really could, there was just so much he didn't know. "I think… I need to reach out to my cousin finally."

Jinani's eyebrows disappeared into her hair at this statement.

"Why? I mean… you know I've said you should, that it would be good for you, but what does that have to do with the GameBoy?"

"You know how I said that my parents abused him because weird things happened sometimes?" Dudley said slowly. "Well, I mean, that isn't why they did it, but it was a trigger for it."

"Yes?"

"Well… it was things like what's happening with the GameBoy."

Jinani looked at her husband feeling only more confused.

"I don't understand," she said.

"I'm not sure I do either," Dudley said, "but I want to ask him some questions about it if he'll, umm, speak to me."

"It's been 15 years," Jinani said. "I'm sure that the selfless and caring boy you described wouldn't hold a grudge that long."

"Normally no," Dudley agreed. "But, sometimes, it's not really about holding a grudge. People deal with trauma in all sorts of ways."

"I thought you didn't even have a way to get in contact with him," Jinani pointed out.

"Not for sure," Dudley explained. "There's someone I could contact who would probably be able to relay a message to him. It's just a matter of whether they would actually do that for me." He shifted a bit and took another sip of his tea. "They, er, only really know me as the person I used to be."

Understanding dawned on Jinani's face, but her confusion returned shortly after.

"I still don't understand what this would have to do with the GameBoy."

"I just… have a theory that Harry would have first hand experience with. If he responds, and he thinks I'm correct, then I'll explain, but it's… complicated."

She felt only more confused by this answer, until something dawned on her and a flash of horror flew across her face.

"You don't think one of our children are… uh…" She trailed off looking at her husband with a pleading expression. "Doing anything like what you deal with at work?"

Dudley's eyes widened as he looked at his wife.

"What!? No! No, goodness, Angel I'm sorry, that isn't what I was implying at all." He smiled at her reassuringly. "I think this whole GameBoy fiasco that's been going on the last month is probably an entirely innocent misunderstanding, it's just that my cousin would have a better idea of figuring out what's going on than I would. Like I told you, all of the strange things that got him abuse from my parents had a perfectly innocent explanation, they just didn't care to listen or accept it because they're terrible people. He would just be more familiar with these kinds of things, that's all."

"Things magically showing up where they shouldn't be without explanation?" Jinani asked.

"Yes… magical things like that."

Dudley sat in his chair with a relaxed posture and glanced over at Candice as they waited. She was too anxious, it was showing in her body language, and that would only stress Lyra out more.

"Relax," he said softly. "This isn't an interrogation, we want her to feel as comfortable as possible."

"Right," Candice said, visibly loosening in her seat. "Sorry."

The door opened and Dudley saw the face that had been in his files for the first time in person. She had rather short, straight hair that looked almost androgynous, but a very feminine face for a 14 year-old. Her expression changed from bored to disappointed as soon as she saw them however, which was a reaction Dudley was not used to seeing. Fear sometimes, relief others, mostly anxiety. But disappointment?

"Hey Lyra," Dudley greeted softly. "Would you mind taking a seat?"

"Not again," she groaned, seemingly to herself, slumping into the empty seat next to the door.

"Pardon?" Dudley asked. He needed to gently prompt her to open a dialog, but he was also felt genuinely confused by her reaction. Her file hadn't said anything about a previous assessment from OCW.

"I keep telling mum this is going to happen," Lyra said in an annoyed tone. Dudley's eyebrows raised slightly.

"What's going to happen?" he asked. Lyra seemed to think on her reply for a moment before glancing over at Candice.

"She's new," Lyra commented. "What happened to Michael?"

At that question Dudley felt all of his internal alarms go to full alert.

"My previous assistant and trainee?" He paused for a moment. How in the world would she know Michael? "He decided to pursue other opportunities about nine months ago."

"That's a shame," the girl said, back to a bored expression. "He was funny."

The room fell into silence and Dudley found himself unsure of what to say next, his mind working quickly to try and piece together this odd conversation. As he sat there trying to figure out what to say next, Lyra spoke up again.

"Is there anything I can say to convince you to not write the report this time, Mr. Dursley?"

"Er, what do you mean? How do you know my name?" Her file had never been on his desk before.

"You told it to me the first time we talked."

"The first time?" Dudley asked, feeling a bit thick.

"Yeah, this will be the third." Lyra rolled her eyes in apparent annoyance and rolled up her sleeve revealing a large bruise. "I told my mum this will keep happening if she keeps leaving me with bruises instead of healing them fully."

A terrifying possibility began to creep into Dudley's head. Maybe it was his imagination, because of what he'd been talking about with his wife last night, but he didn't remember Lyra at all, and there was no record…

"Candice," Dudley said slowly. "I need you to leave the room."

She looked at him startled. That was an extremely abnormal request for their line of work, and in many cases would be rather concerning, however their policies didn't actually require two interviewers for the initial contact unless there was a situation that necessitated it.

"Mr. Dursley, that's—"

"It's alright, Candice," Dudley said, turning towards her with what he hoped was a comforting smile. "You may leave the door open and observe from down the hall, I just get the impression that Lyra and I need to speak freely to make progress today."

His assistant looked at him confused, then the bored looking teenager, then slowly got to her feet and left the room, leaving the door open behind her. Dudley stared at Lyra for a few more moments, and the girl seemed somewhat intrigued by this turn of events.

"I presume that you 'played along' as it were the last two times?"

"Uh… yeah…" Lyra now looked a little confused.

"But this time…" Dudley paused. "This time you think it's not worth it because of what your mum will do? Because I'm…" His eyes darted across her face, trying to pick out any details he could of her body language. "Because I'm a muggle."

Lyra's eyes shot wide and she jumped to her feet.

"Who the fuck are you!?" she growled. "How do you know that word?"

Dudley's heart was thumping. He hadn't been imagining things. Does that mean I've had my memory wiped twice by a witch that abuses her daughter?

"Why are you in muggle schools? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

Lyra looked positively terrified at this point, but Dudley was uncertain in this situation how much he should be protecting the child in front of him at the risk of his family.

If I were doing this illegally, the memory thing, then I would be extra thorough. If this has happened twice before… Dudley felt his blood pressure picking up. They might have done it to Jinani and the kids, just in case I mentioned anything about the case to them.

"I'm a squib," the teenager answered bitterly. "A stain on my mother's pride as a witch."

"What's a squib?" Dudley asked.

"My parents are magical, but I'm not."

This statement caused Dudley to refocus for a moment. He hadn't known that was even possible.

"That's why?" he asked, incredulous, pointing to her bruised arm.

"What can I say?" Lyra replied sarcastically, finally sitting back down in the chair with a venomous expression on her face. "I'm the family freak."

This jerked Dudley's mind to an entirely different perspective. Was Lyra… living the same abuse Harry had, only in reverse? His expression softened as he knew at that moment that he wouldn't be able to ignore Lyra's situation to protect his family. Even if it was the smart, rational thing to do, he wasn't impartial in this kind of situation. It touched on too much of his own trauma and guilt. The entire reason he had decided to go into this line of work in the first place.

Ideas flitted through his mind faster than he could put words to them, and for several moments they stared at each other silently.

"Who are you?" Lyra asked, her voice almost timid now. Uncertain.

"You know that already, don't you?" he asked, slightly amused. Then he frowned. This young girl was clearly scared, and he was not at all behaving professionally. His demeanor had fallen apart at the revelation of her heritage, but… he was here to help children just like her have a normal life. And every child deserved normal. Every child.

"Sorry," he said, feeling a bit ashamed. "Just… getting my bearings again mentally." He sighed. "I expect that I didn't lie to you the last two times we talked. I'm Dudley Dursley, I work as a child psychologist and case worker for the Office of Child Welfare, and I'm a muggle."

"Then how do you know?" she asked softly, her voice slightly scratchy. She looked like she was starting to fall apart a bit emotionally. "How did you know only from the things that I said before?"

"I grew up with a cousin who went to Hogwarts," Dudley told her. "And I somewhat suspect my son will be getting a letter in two years at this point."

A few more moments of silence passed until he heard a sniff from Lyra.

"Then why…" she trailed off, tears starting to fall down her face. "Why didn't you help the other two times? Why didn't you stop her?"

"I'm sorry, Lyra," Dudley said with heartfelt sincerity. "I don't believe I would have realized to take the kind of precautions I should with a magical parent unless you had tipped me off somehow."

"You can't make a report!" Lyra pleaded with him.

"I'm not going to," he reassured her. "I'm going to get in contact with my cousin and set up a meeting with the three of us if that's alright with you? I won't tell him any details or your name, only what the situation is. Then when we all sit down, you can decide if you feel comfortable with him helping." Dudley paused for a moment. "Are you comfortable with that?"

Lyra looked ahead for several moments, tears rolling down her cheeks, before jerkily nodding. Dudley furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before reaching into his pocket.

"Here," he said, producing a business card. "I don't know exactly how long it will take to set up this meeting. Since I won't be making a report, someone might try to put your case file back into OCW in the meantime. If anyone tries to make another report, you can tell them you already have an open case with me. No one will look into it if you have the card."

She took the card and pulled her feet up onto the chair, burying her chin into her knees and looking down at the floor.

"…Thank you," she whispered.

"Of course, Lyra. This is what I do." He looked around for a moment, unsure of how to proceed in this novel situation. "I'll… umm… I'll have the school office excuse you from the rest of classes today, so that you don't have to try to collect yourself and go back to everyone. You can have the rest of the day to yourself… go see a movie or something, yeah?"

He tried to sound upbeat, but knew that it would take Lyra a little while yet to process what had happened. She had been absolutely convinced that no one could help her until only moments ago. His mind, now focused on a plan of action, swelled with anger as he saw the state this teenage girl was in.

Every child deserved normal.

Dudley drove streets that were familiar and haunting to him. He hadn't been to this area since the last time he'd seen his parents, which was over ten years ago. He had given them exactly one chance with his wife, knowing that they were almost certain to spew something hateful about her Pakistani heritage, and hadn't spoken to them since. As far as he knew they weren't even aware that they were grandparents.

But he wasn't in the area to visit them.

He had been planning to do this with much more deference, but now he needed to contact Harry. A child's safety depended on it, it was no longer just a matter of his own guilt or curious musings about his son's possible talents. He knew the names of perhaps three or four people connected to the magic world, and of them, Harry was the only one that he trusted to either handle this situation correctly, or know who to send him.

Parking his car in front of the house which reminded him only of an age where he did things he regretted, Dudley took a deep breath and braced himself for the argument that he was certain was about to ensue.

Walking up the path, he knocked and waited until the door opened.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Figg, it's me. Dudley Dursley."

The woman, who now looked like she was getting on in her years, stared at him with wide eyes for several moments.

"What do you want!?" she spat at him.

"I know this may be hard to believe considering the things that I did when you knew me, but I work as a child psychologist now helping abused children."

"Have you gone mad!?" Mrs. Figg asked him, her face a visage of incredulity.

"No Mrs. Figg. I'm quite serious. I need to speak with Harry as soon as I possibly can, because I just had such a child come to the attention of my office, and I believe that the situation requires the attention of… umm… that society, and I don't know anyone in your world I would trust with a child's safety in this situation except Harry." He paused. "Erm, no offense."

To his relief it seemed that Mrs. Figg was still too dumbstruck at his words to take any offense at of them. After several moments without response, Dudley pressed further.

"Please, Mrs. Figg, you're the only one that I can contact quickly that might have a way to get me to the right person."

"You," she said slowly and dangerously, "have an absurd amount of nerve to demand contact with Harry Potter of all people. If there is anyone on this planet who deserves to contact him less, they live at Number Four."

Dudley grimaced at her words.

"You are… not wrong," he said, looking away from her with a pained expression. "If… if this were just for me, or even my family, I would simply be asking you to relay a letter, but I find myself in a circumstance that is a bit more serious and urgent, and I don't know who else I could truly trust."

Mrs. Figg looked him up and down for a moment and for the first time seemed to be actually considering what he was saying.

"How do I know you're not just using me to try and torment him like you used to?"

"I…" Dudley found the question difficult to swallow, even as he both understood and agreed with it. "I suppose you don't. But I imagine that if I am, Harry will be able to enjoy finally being able to use spells on me."

Mrs. Figg stared at him for a moment longer before stepping aside and motioning him in.

"Stay in the kitchen, I will see what I can do."

It was only lunchtime and Harry already felt like today was a slog. Sometimes he wondered if the students were deliberately testing him to see if he would explode into a Voldemort vanquishing fury, just so they could see it. The sound of the classroom door opening made him sigh and rub his head where his scar used to be. Funny how his students sometimes caused him those same sorts of headaches.

"Whatever it is, you'll have to wait until my office hours to argue it with me," he said without looking up.

"I will remember that next time," the sharp but amused tones of Minerva McGonnagal replied.

"Oh, er, Minerva," Harry said, startled, looking up from his desk. "Apologies, I thought you were another student." His eyes narrowed as he saw the expression on her face. "Though I suspect you come with something which is equally headache inducing." She gave him a soft grin before speaking.

"I was just contacted via Floo by Arabella Figg. I don't quite understand the details, but she seemed to think that it was urgent that you Floo her back if you were able. Something about your cousin and an abused child."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I told you," Harry said dangerously. "I told you as soon as the name came up on the register that this might happen. I—"

"While I'm sure you a gearing up for the most righteous version of 'I told you so' I have ever experienced, Arabella was saying that it is a child your cousin was trying to contact you for help about, not a child your cousin was mistreating."

Harry deflated into confusion at this, clearly stumped as to what he wanted to say to that.

"Would you like to make the call from my office?" the Headmistress asked him.

"No." He frowned. "I'll make it from here."

She nodded and turned around, leaving the room as briskly as she entered. Perplexed at what he'd been told Harry walked over to his office Floo and took a pinch of power.

"Arabella Figg."

Sticking his head through, the old woman from so long in his past stood in front of him like a mirage.

"That was quick," she said, her eyes widening.

"Let's just say that your message got my attention," Harry told her. "What is it that's going on?"

"Dudley showed up at my door a half hour ago pleading to contact you, claiming that he works protecting abused children and had one that required your attention."

Harry let out a deep laugh, unable to stop himself for nearly 30 seconds.

"Alright," he said, getting his breathing under control. "While that was actually a very funny joke, it's not at all appropriate for you to use the Dursleys to make something up, or to contact me so urgently like this. It's the middle of the school year, Mrs. Figg. We were never that close."

The woman looked a bit hurt by Harry's words and he immediately felt guilty at how bluntly he'd just said that. This just… he was not having a good day, even before this nonsense about Dudley.

"I would never do such a thing!" Mrs. Figg finally got out. "Your cousin is out of sight right now in the kitchen, waiting to hear if you will speak with him. I relayed only what I know to the Headmistress."

Harry's expression flattened as he thought of the implications of what she'd just said. This was no longer amusing.

"I will be coming through in five minutes, I need to use Minera's Floo if I'm going to do more than make a call."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire without waiting for a response and started making his way out towards the Headmistresses office immediately. By the time he was at her office door, his mind had gone over what he knew several times. Dudley working to protect abused children? And working with a child that needed his help?

And I thought MAGIC was strange.

Harry opened the door and found Minerva looking up at him curiously.

"You need to go through?" she asked, correctly deducing why he had arrived in what looked like a hurry.

"Yes," Harry said. "I don't know if it's true, but if it is then it's urgent, and if it isn't then… then I suppose I need to set some explicit boundaries with the Dursleys."

Minerva nodded slowly and motioned to the fireplace.

"If you aren't back within an hour I'll have to cancel your next class."

"I'll do my best," he told her.

Taking a handful of Floo powder, Harry walked through the grate without another moment of hesitation and exited into the same sitting room he'd soon only moments before, except this time, Dudley was standing there next to Mrs. Figg, looking even more uncomfortable than Harry felt, if that was possible. Mrs. Figg glanced between them and then spoke.

"I'll give you two some privacy."

She walked out of the room leaving a tense and uncomfortable silence in her wake. Harry looked Dudley up and down for a moment. He didn't remotely resemble the round, thick boy that he'd seen last. His body was much more reasonably proportioned. While he clearly had a little muscle on him, he didn't even look like a boxer any more. He just looked… normal.

"Dudley," Harry finally said in a curt voice.

"Harry," Dudley replied, looking like he had much more to say. "I'm, uh, sorry about contacting you this way. If I reached out, I had planned on doing it through a letter that could let you politely ignore me if you wanted to."

Harry blinked in surprise at this, not sure what he had expected, but knowing it hadn't been that.

"So you're saying this is a genuine emergency," Harry said flatly. "And it's not about your… son."

"No, I—" Dudley looked confused for a moment. "My son? Why would you…?" He glanced off the side, an expression of pride and bewilderment filling his features. "Huh. So I was right."

"You…. You've suspected your son might be, er, like me?" Harry asked, his anxiety and tension beginning to melt into curiosity.

"For a few weeks now," Dudley said. "I actually was going to reach out to ask about help with that, but not as an emergency."

"Right, uh…" Harry felt disoriented. "So what's this emergency?"

Dudley was quiet for several moments, seemingly deciding what to say.

"I know that it may seem… crazy to you, but after you left for the last time, I ended up going to Uni and studying to become a child psychologist, specifically working in the field of child welfare and abuse cases." Harry stared at Dudley with an expression he hadn't seen since he'd been sporting a pig's tail. "It… I spent years in therapy dealing with the abuse I endured from my parents, and… and inflicted on others." The words were clearly difficult for him to say, but this information softened Harry's expression some. "Particularly you."

Harry grunted in response, but felt himself relaxing a little. Whoever this Dudley was, he wasn't the same person that Harry had known.

"I'm sorry," Dudley said. "Not for the abuse. Well, I mean, I am sorry for that, it's just that a simple apology isn't what's needed there. Rather, I'm sorry for putting you in a position like this where you feel like you have to see me. That's… it's not what I should be doing from a professional perspective, and it's not respectful to you and how you feel, and I'm sorry for that. You may not believe me, but I would never put you in this position if I didn't feel like it was truly justified."

"Alright then," Harry responded. "Justify it."

"Right…" Dudley said with a sigh. "Today I had an interview with a 14 year-old girl who had a file that showed many possible signs of abuse. The kind where we would likely try to remove her from her home. But when the interview started, she already knew my name, and the name of my assistant from nine months ago. Only I had never met her before, her case had never come through my office. Or rather, I didn't remember her case coming through my office."

Harry's eyes widened and his blood went cold. His mind worked quickly and he searched Dudley's face.

"A squib?"

"She taught me what the word meant yesterday, yes." Dudley paused again. "I'm fairly certain her mother has erased my memory at least twice and destroyed our documentation to cover it up. Harry…" Dudley looked at him with urgency and resolve. "What if she was in my house? What if she did the same to my children and wife, just in case I discussed the case with them?"

Harry knew immediately that this was a valid concern that his mind hadn't even gotten to yet.

"What's her name?"

"No," Dudley said firmly. "I won't give an abused child's name to someone who isn't a professional in this field without her permission, not even you. But I have to involve someone with the ability to deal with the magical side of this situation, you see? I was hoping that you, or someone you can vouch for, would meet with the girl and me for a three-person interview, so that we could figure out a way to move forward."

Harry thought about this. This was something that almost certainly would need to involve the Auror's, but Harry didn't know that he could trust them to handle it correctly if he just dumped it in their lap.

"You trust me with this?" Harry asked softly.

"Of course," Dudley said with complete certitude. "You're the only person I trust with this."

Harry found that statement surprising, even given how much different Dudley appeared to be now.

"Why?" he asked.

"You are, without any qualification, the most selfless and kind-hearted person I have ever met. I'd trust you with my life."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at this statement.

"That's surprising."

"Really?" Dudley asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "I already did when we were 15. You saved my life then, when I was at my absolute worst of being a rubbish human. Even though it seemed to get you in some trouble." Dudley paused. "Even though I probably deserved it."

Harry immediately felt an unexpected sympathy at that statement.

"You were a teenage git, Dudley," Harry said, speaking softly. "Not even a serial killer deserves what would have happened to you that night."

Dudley shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Please, Harry," Dudley said, real desperation clear in his voice. "I can't do anything for this girl without help."

Harry stared for several seconds before letting out a large sigh.

"Pick me up at 11AM on Monday here," he said finally.

"Thank you, Harry," Dudley said earnestly. "And, again, I'm sorry for putting you in this situation, but I didn't know what else to do."

Harry nodded and turned to leave, but stopped after only one step.

"Wait," he said, thinking about something that had bothered him for years now. "Why… Why did you name your son Harry?"

Dudley smiled at the question, a sincere fondness on his face.

"Well, I thought that there should be a 'Harry Dursley', since you should have always been treated like family," Dudley started. "But it's also like I said before: you're the most selfless, kind-hearted person I've ever known, Harry. I wanted to give my son a goal to reach for."