After the Salvatore family left for Italy, Harry continued to spend a lot of time away from the flat. He visited friends who had floo connections, went on outings with those without, and snuck out with Melly to (not always legal) dance parties. The handful of his friends who lived in manors would give him tours of their home and offer advice on how to rebuild his own; while others gave fun ideas of how to incorporate muggle and magical concepts together. Even Grandfather Arcturus invited him over on occasion to visit and talk about his plans.
Harry was out so often that he barely noticed when his actual birthday arrived. Despite his own obliviousness, Uncle Sirius proved that he didn't forget. He rented out their building's party room and sent invites to Harry's closest friends. The celebration was a lot of fun; though Harry knew that the day wouldn't end with a simple night's sleep. Now that his birthday party was done, Sirius and Chiara planned to leave the next day to start their official honeymoon. This left Harry with little option but to stay elsewhere for the next 3 weeks-
Saturday August 6th, 1994
-Which is what led to him staying in Little Whinging, in the guest room of Uncle John's home.
"Good morning," Harry greeted as he entered the kitchen.
"Morning Harry!" Maggie chirped. "I'm so excited! Are you excited?"
Harry gave a small chuckle. "I'm looking forward to it. Can't say I've ever ridden a horse before. Though I have ridden a hippogriff."
"What's a hippogriff?" Jeff asked.
"It's like a horse, but only in the back-half, while the front half has an eagle's head, wings, and talons. Also feathers, with fur on the horse-half."
Maggie squealed at the idea, while Jeff went wide-eyed. "That- sounds- WICKED!" The two peppered him with questions about the animal, along with others he'd learned about in class.
Uncle John and Aunt Sophie gave warm smiles as the kids talked about magical and mundane animals. It was nice having Harry back in their home, especially without the nervous tension that had followed them in the past. They basked in the warm chatter as they got about making breakfast and packing for a picnic lunch.
At one point, Magdalene arrived with Harry's mail. It was only the morning paper, so Sophie took it for Harry, offering the snowy owl some food in exchange, along with some friendly pats. She unfurled the paper, ready to turn and offer it to Harry, when her eyes caught the headline. Carefully, and unnoticed by the others, Sophie laid the paper on the counter and began to read.
"Mum?" Jeff called out. "Is breakfast ready?"
"Hmm? Oh, it'll be ready soon." Sophie tore her eyes from the paper and casually finished serving breakfast. Once the children tucked in, Sophie brought the paper to the table and continued to read the article.
It was a couple of minutes later that Harry noticed her distraction. "Is that the Prophet?"
"It is," Sophie answered. "Sorry, Harry, is it alright that I'm reading it first? Wizarding news sounds interesting."
Harry answered with a smile, "Sure. I don't mind."
Sophie smiled back, "Thank you, dear." She finished with the main page, flipping a couple pages over in order to get to the rest of the story.
As that happened, Harry glanced over to read the now-revealed headline. Lost Hogwarts Relics Discovered in America! Huh. Neat.
A few minutes later, Uncle John returned from the garage, having finished with the packing. He joined them at the table and piled eggs and toasts onto his plate. He did a double-take on seeing the Prophet, his eyes fixed on a moving image of an American collector showing off a shield bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms.
"Is that the wizard paper?" He asked.
"Yes," Harry and Sophie answered simultaneously.
"Fun," John said with a smile. "What's in the news today?"
"Some interesting things are happening in America," Sophie answered. Her eyes remained on the paper. "Seems that the rock group Jake works with is in hot water for doing a muggle concert in New York."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "...The Weird Sisters?"
"Mhmm. Some people are claiming that their show broke Secrecy laws, but the band is arguing that their equipment for that show was purely muggle and the muggles see their songs lyrics as part of a gimmick instead of the magical topics being real."
Jeff piped in, "Well it's not like they're singing about hippogriffs and stuff, right?"
"Actually," Harry cringed, "they do have a song called Do The Hippogriff."
Jeff winced. "Oo, that's a problem, then. It's not like normal people know what a hippogriff is."
John looked over at the boys with visible confusion, "Hippogriffs are real?" He looked ponderous for half a moment before moving past his own question, muttering, "That might work." More audibly he added, "They could settle a legal dispute if they use muggle references of magic to justify not breaking any statute laws. It wouldn't be hard to show them a Dungeons & Dragons gamebook or something along those lines."
"You should call Jake before we go," Sophie advised. "I'm sure he has a way of contacting them. If not, Mel should know of some magical way to reach them if they're still in America."
"Good idea, Soph. I'll do that."
An hour later, the family arrived at an equestrian farm near the Surrey Hills. They were given a beginner's class on horseback riding, for Harry's sake, then rode out to explore the hills. Harry had to admit, the Surrey Hills were beautiful! A rolling hillscape of natural beauty, full of trees, glades, and farmlands beyond. He took in a deep breath, allowing the peaceful landscape to wash over him. Hearing a wicker beneath him, Harry stroked his horse gently, speaking to her with soothing words. "Isn't it beautiful?" He asked the horse. "You're lucky to live here."
"It really is nice," Uncle John agreed from atop his own, massive horse. "We came here for Maggie's birthday, and have been trying to come here more when it's nice out."
"I don't blame you," Harry said. He looked out beyond the hills. "Who would have thought there was a place this nice near Little Whinging?"
John's face morphed into a sad smile. "I know what you mean. …Still- better late than never, am I right?" At Harry's nod, John gave the horse a beckoning pat. "Come on, let's catch up with the others."
They marched through the trails for a long while. Eventually they reached a picnic area that served as a resting point for the horse trails. They used that point as an opportunity to rest, themselves. They set up a picnic and enjoyed a small lunch in the sun. Others, it seemed, were taking advantage of the lovely day, as well. A handful of families were also having picnics, and a small group (of what appeared to be nurses and patients) had set up small easels for an afternoon of painting the landscape.
When they finished their picnic, Aunt Sophie craned her neck towards the lavatories. "I'm just going to make a quick call before we go."
Now that Harry thought about it, using the loo sounded like a good idea. He followed after her, splitting off to use the facilities while Sophie made for the nearby payphone. When he finished his business, he passed Sophie, who was still on the phone. Her voice sounded annoyed for some reason.
"Yes, I realize that, Mal; but how can we be sure the buyers' ownership documents have passed forgery checks?! We have to consider the proper channels and make sure that things-"
Harry shook his head as he made it back to the picnic area. The finance business sure is tricky, Harry thought. He knows Aunt Sophie has to go through a lot of "bureaucratic nonsense" and "sneaky legal loopholes" from other people, and it gives her a lot of stress. Still, he had to admire the work she and Uncle John do to give their kids a good life. It's hard work, but their sacrifices provide opportunities that not every kid can enjoy.
"...Harry?"
A boy's voice spoke the name softly, but it wasn't one he recognized. He turned to the sound, blinking as he took in the teenager that called him. It was… jarring, how different he looked after these last three years. Yet despite those differences, Harry recognized Dudley in an instant.
"Dudley?"
Dudley looked nervous, shifting his eyes from Harry to the group behind Dudley nervously. "Hi."
"Hi."
"You look… different," he said. "Taller."
"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. Dudley looked different, too. He was still stocky and beady eyed, but his fat had been traded for muscle, for the most part. "You look well, too." A moment of panic flashed through him. "Is your Aunt Majorie here with you?"
Dudley shook his head slightly, "No, I'm just visiting mum."
"Your mum?" A knot of emotions fixed across his mind. Objectively, he knew Aunt Petunia was no longer at Azkaban. He'd been warned about that last September. He doubted she would ever search him out and try to hurt him again. Still… there was an unconscious level of nervousness and fear ingrained in him from years of abuse.
"Yeah," Dudley said, oblivious to Harry's fears of the question. He nodded over to the group behind him who were busy with paints and easels. It was then that Harry finally noticed Aunt Petunia. Her face was dry and wrinkled. Her formerly well-kept hair was limp and streaked with white hairs, and her eyes seemed almost catatonic. Despite that her hand moved slowly over a canvas, layering paint on it with gentle strokes. "She's been staying at Netherne Hospital. It's… she's been doing better, going out to places like this. You know how much she loved to garden."
No. I was the one who had to garden. She just liked to look at it. Politely, Harry kept his comments to himself and made an agreeable noise for Dudley's sake. They watched her for a long time. The reality of Azkaban's treatment sinking in. "Do you visit often?"
"Not really, but I come as much as I can. She needs me, I know it. Aunt Marjorie doesn't want me to come here, but I can't just leave my mum alone, you know? She's… I'm all she's got left." It was odd, seeing Dudley look sullen in a way that didn't lead to a tantrum.
"You're a good son," Harry offered gently.
Thrown by the comment, Dudley looked at him oddly. His lip curled up briefly, before frowning once again. "It's not enough." His foot shuffled against the dirt. "…They're shutting down the hospital at the end of the year. The Community Care Act, and all that. They're not sure where to put mum. 'Lost her admittance file' they said." He gave Harry a petulant and knowing look. "Even I don't know when they brought her here. So, yeah, I don't know what'll happen to her, but I gotta do something! Make Aunt Marjorie take her in, even if she smacks me for complaining. I don't care what she says! I just…"
His voice trailed off, a sense of helplessness descending over him. Harry, too, felt wrought with confusing emotions. What can someone in his position even say at a time like this?
Anything he could say was an opportunity lost as Dudley perked up and walked over to his mum. "Oh, is it finished, mum? How does it look?" After a pause, Dudley gave the painting a pained smile. "That's a beautiful garden, mummy. I bet even Mister Adamson will love it. Do you want me to ask him, or do you want to keep it for yourself?"
Aunt Petunia moved slightly and her lips parted to speak. Harry had no idea what she said, but Dudley seemed to understand well enough. He gave her cheek a brief kiss, then took the canvas to show it to one of the attendants. As Dudley walked, the canvas flashed in Harry's viewpoint. It was a smattering of impressionist colours, built from shaking hands. Still, Harry could vaguely make out the garden Dudley mentioned. The five petals of petunias, the long column of heathers, …and the sweeping hexagrams of lily flowers.
Fun fact: The "Mister Adamson" Dudley references was a real person. Edward Adamson was a pioneer of art therapy and worked at Netherne Hospital until 1981, (for this story I'm pretending he was visiting the hospital that day). Though, as said in-story, Netherne hospital did shut down in 1994. It's awesome how research can direct story-telling!