Harry didn't hold out any hope that the prospect of having people stay with him would change the behavior of the Dursleys. If he had, he would have been disappointed. His aunt and uncle didn't feel they were doing anything wrong in making him their personal house elf.

Even though her guests would be unwelcome, Aunt Petunia couldn't help but want to set a good impression. She wanted both to prove to the magical visitors that she was just as good as they were and hoped that when they saw her perfect house that they would not feel a need to stay.

To that end, Aunt Petunia had Harry cut the grass, de-weed the flower beds, wash the windows, and mop the floors. When Harry deep dusted the knickknacks on the mantle in the sitting room, he chuckled when he noticed small bits of debris still inside the floral vase from when Mr. Weasley had blown open the boarded-up fireplace. The physiques of the ceramic clowns next to the vase always reminded him of his uncle and cousin. Too bad, he thought bitterly to himself as he finished dusting them, his relatives didn't have the clowns' jovial personalities. As he dragged a chair over to wipe down the top of the bookcase with its seldom read books, he pondered how a simple Scourgify would be much quicker.

Harry actually didn't mind the chores. When he was working hard he could temporarily forget about the disaster at the Department of Mysteries and the loss of Sirius.

One thing did change, however. In the past, Aunt Petunia ignored Dudley when he came in with muddy feet and just expected Harry to re-mop the floor. Now, with Aunt Petunia not knowing when their first guest would arrive, when Dudley returned from his ramblings around the neighborhood he would be admonished to take off his shoes and hang up his jacket. He was even told to put his things in his bedroom rather than leave them strewn across the foyer and kitchen as he'd been want to do. Harry was surprised when his cousin actually listened to his mother.

When there was a knocking at the door on Tuesday morning, Petunia gave a final look around before shooing Dudley out the back door, telling him to play with Piers until dinnertime. She then turned her glare to Harry. "Get the door, boy, and see if it's your … guest."

Harry too looked around and then stuffed the rag he'd been using to polish the grandfather clock into his pocket. He was delighted when he opened the door. "Mrs. Weasley!"

Molly Weasley stood on the stoop with a soft sided bag and a large basket at her feet. "Harry! How wonderful to see you!" She enfolded him in a giant hug. "Is everything going alright? Are the muggles treating you OK?"

Harry returned the hug and stepped away. "I'm just fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for coming, but won't your family miss you?"

"Not at all!" Molly responded cheerfully. "Aunt Muriel is staying at the Burrow for a few days. The children are delighted to be able to spend some time with her."

Harry doubted that but was wise enough not to say so. "Come in! Mrs. Weasley, this is my Aunt Petunia."

"Of course you are! Delighted to actually get a chance to know you. Call me Molly." Picking up the basket, Molly bustled into the house with her bag following her.

Aunt Petunia gave the bag a sour look. "Harry, take that … bag upstairs to the guest bedroom."

Fortunately, the bag must have had a featherweight charm on it for despite its bulk it was easy to pick up.

By the time he came back downstairs Molly had made herself at home in the kitchen. The basket was on the floor and, apparently oblivious to Aunt Petunia's moue of disgust, the witch was looking through the cabinets. "No wonder you're such a skinny thing! There's not enough here to keep a jobberknoll fed."

Aunt Petunia preened at being called thin; she worked hard to maintain her figure. However, she resented this strange woman implying that she couldn't take care of her husband and son. "We do just fine, thank you very much. Besides, Vernon and Dudley have been on diets for the last several years."

"Oh, it's no problem at all. I can work around that! Now, let me put together dinner. Five of us tonight, right?" Molly opened up her basket.

"That won't be necessary," Aunt Petunia sniffed. "I'm perfectly capable of …"

At that, Harry had to withhold a snort. During the summer, he was as likely as Aunt Petunia to be responsible for dinner.

"Rubbish! I insist. Here I am, barging into your house – I certainly can't expect you to wait on me! Now, just sit down and be comfortable." Molly rolled up her sleeves.

Harry saw her reach into her pocket and quickly made his way to her. "Mrs. Weasley," he whispered urgently. "Aunt Petunia despises magic."

"Not a problem, dear," Molly replied softly. "A little use of the Confundus Charm will take care of that."

"But I could get expelled if they think it's me!"

"Nonsense. The Ministry knows I'm here." She spoke more loudly. "Now, I just happen to have packed the fixings for one of my specialties. All my children love it."

Harry winced as the basket opened and two wrapped packages floated up from it and landed on the countertop, but Aunt Petunia seemed unable to see them. His aunt grudgingly sat down in one of the chairs. "Children? How many do you have?"

Molly unwrapped the first package. She summoned a roasting pan from a cupboard, used Aguamenti to add water, and set the brisket in it. "Seven." She set another pan on the stove, emptied the contents of the second package into it, and set a spatula to stir it before looking up. "Let's see. Charlie works with dragons in Romania. I wish he wasn't so far away. I know you understand how it goes, or maybe not with your son still at home. Just wait until he gets older and wants to spread his wings."

Aunt Petunia had stopped listening after "dragons" and was sitting with her mouth open.

"But of course, while dragons are dangerous, it's a known danger." She glanced at Harry. "That's not to minimize what you went through at the Tournament, dear. What was Albus thinking?" she sniffed and turned to Aunt Petunia. "I'm sure you gave the Headmaster the what-for! Having Harry face a dragon all for the sake of a silly goblet."

Aunt Petunia shook her head. "I never…"

"Of course, he wouldn't listen to you! You can't tell me, though, that a great wizard like Dumbledore couldn't have figured out a way to get Harry out of a tournament he was far too young to enter. Anyway, the one I worry about most is Bill. He's a curse-breaker. My big fear is that an unknown curse is going to get to him, but he swears he's careful."

"Curse-breaker?" Aunt Petunia repeated.

Behind Molly, several jars of spices came out of her basket and spilled their contents onto the brisket. "I know – it's silly, isn't it? After all, most curses aren't really life-threatening. They'll just force people to walk backwards the rest of their lives or move their brains to a tail that then can't be removed. But the truly horrible ones…" she shuddered.

"Horrible," Aunt Petunia weakly agreed.

"Harry, dear, can you let me know when the water is boiling? Anyway, Percy is our pride and joy." Harry was glad his head was turned so that Molly couldn't see his expression. "Works for the Ministry, he does. Very ambitious – he'll go far."

That, at least, Aunt Petunia understood. She nodded vigorously. "Nothing like a good government job," she agreed. "Good pay and benefits and job security."

"Exactly! My husband works for the Ministry, you know. Anyway, the twins have been a disappointment. They dropped out of school; can you believe it? Thank you, Harry. Why don't you just sit down now. "

Aunt Petunia shook her head. "If Dudders ever dropped out, we'd be devastated."

"So you know what I mean. My youngest two are still in school. I'm sure Harry's mentioned them." Harry softly snorted. As if he'd talk about Hogwarts with the Dursleys – they didn't want to hear about it and were probably just sorry that one of the horrible curses hadn't gotten him. "Ron is one of his best friends," Molly continued, "and Ginny's a year younger."

"My, you have a handful. We always wanted more than one but were never so fortunate," Petunia said wistfully.

Molly began to dry her hands with a towel. "I'm sure, then, that you feel especially blessed to have Harry."

Aunt Petunia looked uncomfortable before glancing at the boy, giving him a look he couldn't decipher. "He reminds me of his mother," she finally decided upon saying.

"Everyone who knew Lily loved her," Molly affirmed as she sat down at the table. "That must be some consolation."

Aunt Petunia's face hardened. "If she'd never gone to that school of yours, she'd still be alive."

Molly looked pensive before shaking her head. "If You-Know-Who had ever found out she existed, she'd have been targeted anyway as a muggle-born."

Aunt Petunia huffed. "I assume you mean that evil one we were warned about. And of course it's not enough to be special to our parents, but Lily had to be special in your world too," she said resentfully.

Molly took a deep breath. "No, you misunderstand. She was targeted because the rest of your family is not magical. At least going to Hogwarts enabled her to acquire the skills to defend herself, and you."

Aunt Petunia pursed her lips. "Us? We had no part in the war of yours."

Molly shook her head. "If the Death Eaters were after Lily and she was with you, they'd have killed you as well. Her not being here probably saved your lives."

Aunt Petunia looked thoughtfully at Harry. She was just about to say something when the door opened. "Petunia, I'm home! Dudley's just putting away his bike. Say, something smells delicious!"

Uncle Vernon stumbled to a stop as he entered the kitchen and saw Molly. Dudley bumped into him from behind. "You're one of those people," he growled.

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat. "Vernon, dear, Molly Weasley will be with us for a few days. She was nice enough to make us all dinner."

Molly smiled. "And I'm planning a nice sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Low calorie, but delicious."

Dudley went to turn on the television, but Harry stopped him. Speaking low so Uncle Vernon couldn't hear him, he told his cousin, "Magic doesn't work well with electronics. You may break the set if you turn it on."

Dudley's face turned white. "You mean she's using mmmm…."

Harry stopped himself from looking over at his uncle. "Yeah."

Dudley's expression began to change to that of horror. "And turning on the telly now might break it forever?"

Harry nodded soberly. "At least as long as she's so close to it."

Dudley sat down without a word.

Although dinner started off uncomfortably, Uncle Vernon decided that Molly's cooking made up for having one of those … unnatural people in the house.

Molly turned her attention to Dudley. "Have you been enjoying the summer? What have you been doing?"

Dudley, who'd been eating as rapidly as he could, was surprised at the attention. "Uh, yeah, summer's been great. Hanging around with friends, that sort of thing. And I started boxing last year, and I'm continuing my lessons over the summer."

Harry shuddered at the idea of a Dudley who was actually trained to fight.

Molly, however, smiled at Dudley, even though she wasn't sure what boxing involved. "It's important for growing boys to be active in a sport. My tribe are all into quidditch, and of course you know Harry is the school's star seeker."

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat. "I think we're ready for that dessert now."

After everyone had finished their pudding, Molly insisted on the rest retiring to the sitting room while she cleaned up. "After all, I'll be done in a trice!" she declared. Harry insisted on keeping her company. He watched with satisfaction as Molly used magic to clean up and put everything away, gleeful at seeing so much magic in the house and knowing that he would not get in trouble for it.

As Molly headed into the sitting room, Harry started upstairs as he usually did after dinner.

Molly called to him when she saw he wasn't following her. "Harry, where are you going?"

"Uh, just to my room," Harry answered.

"Nonsense. I don't get to see much of you. Join us in the sitting room."

Reluctantly, Harry followed Molly as she joined the Dursleys in the sitting room. Uncle Vernon, reading a business magazine, and Aunt Petunia, reading a tabloid, looked at him strangely, but satiated by dinner did not say anything. Dudley, playing with a building set, ignored him.

Molly reached into her voluminous pocket and pulled out some knitting needles before sitting down. "Now I didn't bring a hostess gift, so I insist on making each one of you a sweater. Dudley, dear, can you stand up for a moment?" Dudley looked confused but did so. "Such a healthy boy! That's fine, I have your size now. What colors do you like?"

"Um, red and blue, I guess," Dudley mumbled.

"And you, Petunia?"

"No, no – nothing for me."

"Come now, I insist. It's no problem on my part. I love to knit – just ask Harry here."

Startled to become the focus of attention, Harry nodded.

Aunt Petunia decided she should get something from the imposition her guests were causing this summer. "Well then, purple and pink."

Molly smiled. "The colors of petunias, of course. And you, Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. At Aunt Petunia's nod, he said "Green and gray."

Molly took out multiple skeins of yarn that should not have been able to fit in her pocket and began to cast on. After getting a nod from Aunt Petunia, Harry pulled out one of the well dog-eared detective novels from the bottom shelf to read, the only ones he was allowed to touch other than to dust. To Harry's relief, the evening passed quietly.

Harry was about to go into his bedroom when he heard someone clearing his throat behind him. He spun backwards and saw Dudley standing at the top of the stairs, just looking at him. "Everything all right, Duds?" he asked.

Dudley gave Harry a strange look, but nodded and turned to go into his own bedroom.

The next few days went by quickly. Molly continued to cook, and everyone was well fed with lamb stew one night and cottage pie the next, both with just a hint of a spice that Harry didn't recognize but that even the Dursleys liked despite their aversion to anything unusual. Aunt Petunia did not give Harry any chores. The evenings were quiet. Harry wondered if the others ever noticed that the sweaters were always much further along than the night before and decided that they had to hear the sounds of the clicking needles even when Molly was in the kitchen but were just pretending they didn't. Dudley continued to ignore Harry.

"Well, I must be off tomorrow. Aunt Muriel is heading back home. It's been wonderful to get to know you," Molly announced after dinner three days later. She presented Aunt Petunia with a folded-up sweater.

"It's beautiful," Aunt Petunia gasped. On the front was a field of petunias in a riot of colors.

"Thank you. And Vernon, for you."

Uncle Vernon shook out the sweater and saw a basketweave pattern. "It's nice," he said gruffly.

Dudley's sweater had a red dragon flying against a dark blue sky, shooting out flames. "Cool!"

Harry admired the knitting. "Wow – you can see the spikes around the face of that Chinese Fireball!"

Dudley looked up eagerly. "Dragons are real? Can I see one?"

"No!" Aunt Petunia almost shouted. When everyone looked at her, she swallowed. "No," she repeated more softly. "Dragons can be deadly." With that, she gave Harry a speculative look.

Molly leaned over to Harry and said quietly, "You'll get yours later in the summer. I want to give you one a bit magical and know these muggles wouldn't like that." Harry nodded.

Harry was sorry to see Mrs. Weasley off the next morning. Uncle Vernon was already at work after a final delicious breakfast fry-up cooked by Molly. Breakfast dishes cleaned up, Aunt Petunia and Harry walked Molly to the curb. Dudley stayed in the kitchen, eyeing the three and waiting until they were almost at the door before turning on the telly with a grateful sigh.

Molly hugged Harry. "You let me know if you're not well, now." She turned to Aunt Petunia. "It's been lovely. My husband will be by in a few days. He'll get a full report as to how Harry's been doing."

Aunt Petunia nodded. "You've given me a lot to think about, things Harry never told me."

Because you never wanted to know, Harry thought to himself.

When they returned, Dudley looked up now and then at his mother as if to say something before returning his attention to the screen. Aunt Petunia, relieved the visit had gone as well as it had, ignored both boys and went to the sitting room to catch up on the mail.

Harry hoped the rest of his time at the Dursleys would go as smoothly.

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