Chapter 4
27th of July, 1991
Privet Drive
Harry stared, wide-eyed, as the old man before him transformed into a superhero. Dumbledore's spandex suit glimmered brilliantly, his cape billowing with a dramatic flair.
"What kind of justice?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued despite the surreal scene unfolding.
Dumbledore, still floating with a majestic air, summoned a colossal bucket with a flourish of his wand. It clanged onto the floor with a resounding thud, gleaming under the lights. "This, Harry, is a Pensieve," he intoned.
Harry's eyes widened as he watched Dumbledore draw his wand. With a fluid, practiced motion, the wizard extracted a shimmering, silver substance from Harry's head. The silvery threads swirled and danced in the air, glowing with a metallic light.
"What is that?" Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and gravity. "These, my dear boy, are your fears and feelings of despair. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a trauma for a trauma."
Before he could fully process it, Dumbledore turned his attention back to the bucket. With a dramatic flourish, Dumbledore waved his wand, and the bucket began to expand. It grew larger and larger until it was almost the size of a small swimming pool, its surface shimmering invitingly.
"Now, for the main event!" Dumbledore declared, his voice booming with grandiloquent grandeur. He levitated Vernon and Petunia, who were too stunned to speak (and that could not, because of magic, you know), and gently lowered them into the enlarged Pensieve. They flailed briefly before finding themselves suspended in the silvery substance, their expressions a mix of confusion and terror.
Harry couldn't suppress a "OOoooooh". Vernon, with his bloated form struggling to maintain balance, looked like an overstuffed turkey bobbing in a pot of silver soup. Petunia, her usually pinched face now slack with shock, seemed even more out of place. Dumbledore hovered over the edge of the Pensieve, peering down at the Dursleys with mock contemplation. "Had you been kind to Harry, you would be reliving pleasant memories. Alas, here we are."
With another wave of his wand, Dumbledore stirred the silvery contents, causing the Dursleys to spin slowly. "This, Harry, will let them experience every moment of your suffering. Every cupboard, every cruel word, every cold, hungry night. They will feel it all."
Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the Dursleys began to shudder, their eyes glazing over as they were immersed in the flood of memories and emotions. Dumbledore, with a final gesture of the wrist, made the Pensieve disappear. Vernon and Petunia landed on the floor with a wet splat, drenched and disoriented.
Dumbledore unsheathed his wand—literally from a sheath like a sword—and pointed it at Vernon. The grotesque transformation began immediately: Vernon's bloated, purple face started to shrink and pale, his mustache receding like a slug retreating from salt. His body contorted and shriveled, the grotesque muffin top melting away into a thin, gangly frame. His eyes, once small and piggy, morphed into the familiar, bright green of Harry's, and his hair darkened and straightened, falling messily over his now narrow forehead, complete with a lightning-shaped scar.
Dumbledore turned to Harry, his tone now practical. "I can't simply take you away, Harry. The police would search for you. This way, there will still be a Harry in this house. Vernon will experience what it's like to be chased and bullied by his own son. Perhaps it will teach him how to raise his children better."
Harry gaped at Dumbledore, the enormity of the plan dawning on him. The wizard's eyes twinkled with a hidden amusement.
"Of course," Dumbledore added with a wink, "it will only last for two weeks. But it's not like they know it."
With that, Dumbledore gave Harry a reassuring nod, then floated towards the door, his superhero cape trailing behind him.
"You coming, Robin…I mean, Harry ?"
27th of July, 1991
London
Andromeda Tonks reclined on the chaise longue, her nightgown loosely draped over her elegant frame, a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in her hand. Her dark, wavy hair, streaked with silver, cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her alabaster skin. Her dark eyes, slightly glazed from the alcohol, tracked the chaotic scenes unfolding on the screen.
Nymphadora Tonks, lounging beside her on the plush velvet couch, wore an oversized T-shirt and panties, a beer can dangling from her fingers. Her Metamorphmagus talents were on full display. Her hair, currently a vibrant pink, shifted and changed with her every emotion. Her smooth, glowing skin radiated vitality.
The latest absurdity on the screen was a Muggle reality show titled "Celebrity Zookeepers Gone Wild," where celebrities attempted to care for and bond with wild animals.
"This... this is utter madness," Andromeda slurred, her voice rich and melodic despite her inebriation. She took a swig of Firewhiskey and hiccuped. "Why... why would anyone let a pop star try to bathe a rhino?"
Nymphadora snorted, nearly spilling her beer, her hair shifting to deep violet as her breasts grew fuller. "It's so ridiculous, it's brilliant! Look at him, Mum! He thinks he can tame that lion with a ukulele. Honestly, who comes up with this stuff?"
Andromeda laughed, a sound like a thousand wind chimes, then hiccuped loudly. "It's a travesty. That poor lion looks more confused than anything. Look at the way it's eyeing the ukulele. It's like it's deciding whether to eat it or him."
Tonks' eyes sparkled with mischief, her laughter punctuated by hiccups. "Mum, that's the whole point. It's the disaster you can't look away from." She leaned back, her hair shifting to turquoise, her breasts reducing slightly as she relaxed. "I wonder if they actually think these stunts will work or if it's all for the cameras."
Andromeda's eyes twinkled with amusement, her face flushed. "I think it's a bit of both. The drama needs a guiding hand, after all. Speaking of guiding hands, look at that…That's got to be scripted."
Nymphadora's laughter rang out, her hair shifting to a fiery red. "I'm sure it is. No one in their right mind would think that's a good idea. Then again, these celebrities aren't exactly known for their intellect."
"Check out the abs on that one," Andromeda said, raising an eyebrow as a shirtless actor wrestled with a python. "If only he had half a brain to match." She hiccuped again, nearly spilling her Firewhiskey.
"Yeah, but who needs brains when you've got muscles like that?" Tonks retorted, her hair turning bubblegum pink as she burst into laughter. She took a swig of her beer and hiccuped loudly.
Just as Andromeda was about to respond, a brilliant flash of light filled the room, silencing them both. They shielded their eyes, blinking rapidly as the glow faded, revealing the majestic form of a phoenix perched in the middle of their living room.
"What the fuck?" Nymphadora exclaimed, her hair turning a shocked white, her breasts shrinking to their original size as she sprang to her feet, nearly stumbling over her beer can.
Andromeda's eyes widened, her heart racing. "Is that Fawkes?" she asked, her voice a mixture of awe and confusion. She took another swig of Firewhiskey, the bottle almost empty. Her thoughts raced back to her complicated relationship with Dumbledore. He had been her silent (but very interested and not benevolent at all) guardian 'angel', offering support when she was disowned by the Black family. She owed him, and she did some legal work for him as a lawyer, hiding it as "pro bono" cases. For Nymphadora, the connection was more direct but stronger. She trained under Shackelbolt and Moody, both staunch supporters and clients of Dumbledore.
"What could the old man want with us now?" Andromeda muttered, her voice slurred by the alcohol.
"Hoot, hoot," said Fawkes, his eyes glaring with an unexpected ferocity.
Nymphadora blinked, her hair turning a perplexed shade of green. "Did he just... imitate an owl?" she asked, her voice filled with drunken disbelief.
Andromeda snorted, nearly spilling her Firewhiskey. "Looks like it. Maybe he's had a bit too much, like us."
They both leaned in closer, noticing a letter at Fawkes' feet. With a graceful swoop, the phoenix disappeared, not before snatching the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey from Andromeda's hand. "Hey! That's mine!" she protested, but Fawkes was already gone in a burst of flames.
Nymphadora bent down and picked up the letter, her hair shifting to a bright pink as curiosity overtook her. "It's not a normal letter, Mum. It's a Voice letter" – basically a calm Howler, she said, her words slightly slurred.
"Great, now we get to hear Dumbledore's soothing voice instead of reading his scribbles," Andromeda mumbled, still annoyed at the loss of her Firewhiskey.
Nymphadora tapped the letter, and it sprang to life, projecting a soft, glowing image of Dumbledore's face. The scene captured him mid-speech, apparently talking to his socks. "No, you will stay on my feet where you belong!" he exclaimed, wrestling with the rebellious garment. The two women exchanged bewildered, drunken glances.
"Oh fuck. It began," Dumbledore muttered, realizing the message had started recording. He coughed, trying to regain his composure. "Ahem, Andromeda, Nymphadora," he began, his voice now calm and authoritative.
Andromeda, taking another swig of Firewhiskey, raised an eyebrow. "What in Merlin's name is he up to now?" she slurred, hiccupping. "Is he...fighting with his socks?"
Nymphadora snorted, nearly spilling her beer, her hair shifting to deep violet as her breasts grew fuller. "It's so ridiculous. He's supposed to be the wisest wizard alive, and here he is…losing a battle to his own socks!?"
Dumbledore, now somewhat flustered, straightened his robes. "I have come across a distant nephew of yours, Andromeda," he said, his eyes darting nervously to the side where his socks seemed to be plotting their next move. Andromeda's mind raced, quickly piecing together the veiled reference. Harry Potter, she realized with a start. "He has been badly treated by his previous guardians," Dumbledore continued, a twinge of anger in his voice.
Dumbledore sighed deeply, his face etched with sorrow. "The poor boy has been without a guiding hand, and I fear I am too old to provide the care he needs. Andromeda, when I first met you, I saw a strength and kindness that transcended the prejudices of your family. You, who defied the Black family's expectations, who chose love over blood purity, can provide the nurturing environment that young Harry so desperately needs. I remember the day you walked away from the house of Black, not knowing what the future held, yet determined to forge your own path. It was a day that marked you as someone capable of great love and even greater resilience."
He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, his voice breaking slightly as he continued. "I must confess, I have grown too old to offer Harry the kind of care he needs. He has endured hardships that no child should ever face, and I fear I am ill-equipped to help him heal. His heart is burdened, Andromeda, and I believe that you, with your understanding of both loss and love, can help him find his way. He needs a home where he can feel safe, a place where he can begin to understand his place in our world."
Dumbledore's voice took on a more pleading tone as he spoke. "Andromeda, Nymphadora, I implore you both to take him in for a month. Introduce him to the wizarding world, teach him the joys of magic, and show him the kindness that has been so cruelly withheld from him. It is but a small request, yet one that carries great weight. This boy, this nephew of yours, Andromeda, has the potential to change the very fabric of our world. But he needs guidance, he needs love, and he needs to know that he is not alone."
Just then, his magic socks attacked again, wrapping around his legs and pulling him off balance. "No, not now!" he yelled, struggling with the rebellious hosiery, his wand slipping from his grip and rolling out of view. The message ended abruptly, the glowing image disappearing with a final, indignant squeak from the socks.
Andromeda and Nymphadora stared at the spot where the projection had been, then at each other, their earlier amusement turning into utter bewilderment.
"Well," Andromeda said, breaking the silence and taking another swig of Firewhiskey. "Looks like we're about to have a guest. Did that really just happen?"
Nymphadora snorted, nearly spilling her beer as she hiccuped again.
Andromeda shook her head, her nightgown rustling as she stood up a bit unsteadily. "I suppose we should clean up a bit," she said, eyeing the empty bottles and clutter around the room. "Can't have Harry thinking we live like slobs."
Nymphadora grinned, her hair shifting back to pink. "Maybe we should leave it. Give him the full Tonks experience."
Andromeda chuckled, shaking her head. "You're impossible. But seriously, let's at least hide the Firewhiskey."
As they tidied up, the reality show on the TV continued its absurdity, now showing a pop star trying to charm a rhinoceros with a serenade. Andromeda paused, watching the screen with a bemused expression.
"I wonder if Harry likes reality TV," she mused.
Nymphadora laughed, tossing a cushion onto the couch. "Well, he's about to find out if he does or not."