Forty-Two Months Later: Muggle Charms

[kanedax]

Title: Forty-Two Months Later: Muggle Charms
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows & Previous Chapters
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Harry, Dudley, Petunia, Susan
Summary: The events of the wedding reception culminate in some unexpected houseguests.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. They belong to JK Rowling.

Three Years Later: ReceptionFic / Previous Chapters / Things You Already Know

“Well, this can’t be right.”

“This was the address that he put in his note,” Dudley replied, setting down his suitcase on the shoveled walk next to his mother’s. He pulled the scrap of paper out of his pocket. “The home of Harry and Ginny Potter may be found at Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.”

Petunia walked up and down the row of houses. “Nine, ten,” she read on each door, “eleven, thirteen. There’s no twelve!”

“Is it on the other side?” Dudley said, turning around and squinting at the houses across the street.

“I don’t believe this,” Petunia Evans huffed, leaning against the car. “He gave us the wrong address! Like this is some kind of joke!”

“He wouldn’t joke around with you,” said Dudley, peering carefully at the note. “I mean, not after…”

Not after the divorce, he was going to say, but cut himself off. He knew as well as anyone that, after the events of the Potter/Weasley double wedding, things had strained between his parents to the point where his father and mother decided that they would be better off separated. And he knew that his Mum was, for the most part, happy to have Vernon out of her life, now that their views of the world and her family had changed so much. And from what little Dudley spoke to his father before he and Petunia left the States for the last time, the feeling was more than mutual.

But he still didn’t like bringing it up if he could help it, even if it was the reason that they standing here in the January chill, aimlessly searching for a house that apparently didn’t exist. As a car pulled up along the side of the road in front of theirs, he wondered why Harry would do something like this, unless he was feeling some sort of long-repressed vengeful streak toward the family who made his life miserable.

“Excuse me,” said Petunia shortly as a small, balding man pulled himself from the car’s driver’s seat. “This is Grimmauld Place, correct?”

“That’s right, yeah,” said the driver as he walked around to the other side, being careful not to slip in the slush as he pulled the passenger door open.

“And do you know where number twelve is?”

“Number twelve?” the man said, shaking his head patronizingly as he pulled out a bag of groceries. “There is no number twelve. Never has been.”

“There’s not?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, really,” the man said, walking up to them. “Guess when they built this place God-knows-when ago, someone must have been right snockered on the job, forgot to write the number down on some piece of paper, and didn’t want to correct himself in front of whoever was in charge of setting the neighborhood up. So, no, never has been a twelve.”

“But it says it right here on the paper,” Dudley insisted.

“You sure it’s not a two or a twenty-two?” the man suggested. “Quigley’s live in number two, nice folks, them, and old lady Grint lives in twenty-two, a bit of a cat fiend but loves her afternoon stories.”

“No, we’re not looking for them,” said Dudley. “Besides, it says twelve, not one-two.”

“Do you know a Potter?” asked Petunia. “Harry? Ginny? Ginevra?”

The man pursed his lips, and then shook his head. “Nope, can’t say as I do.” He adjusted the bags on his arms and gave them a nod. “Good luck with your search.”

“The nerve,” Petunia sniffed as the man walked up the stairs to number eleven. “Do you have his number on your telephone?”

“My cell phone?” Dudley pulled it out of his pocket (he didn’t have a job lined up yet, but he still kept it with him out of habit) and flipped it open, knowing the answer before he even looked. “No, he hasn’t given me one. I don’t even know if he has a number.”

“How could anyone not have a telephone number?” Petunia said, shaking her head as she stared between eleven and thirteen. “I just can’t… ahh!!”

One minute it was a blank wall. The next minute Petunia’s nephew, Dudley’s cousin, was hurrying towards them, carrying a small wooden box at his side.

“Harry!” Petunia gasped. “Where did you…?”

“Sorry about the wait,” said Harry. “Kreacher said you were here, but I couldn’t get off the front step until Mr. Douglas was gone. Get in the car for a minute, would you? I need to give you something, and I can’t do it in the open.”

Too shocked at Harry’s sudden appearance to question or protest, Dudley and Petunia climbed into the back seat of the Dursleys’ car, and Harry climbed into the front, turning around to face them.

“Okay, before we do this,” Harry said seriously. “I need to make sure you two are both on board with this. Anything you see or do from this point on stays in the strictest confidence. I could get into a lot of trouble if I give these to you and you decide to start blaring information about the magic world around, and you might find yourselves not remembering your own names.”

“I’m in, Harry,” said Dudley quickly. “Whatever it takes.”

Harry turned to Petunia and raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

“You’re making this sound very serious, Harry,” said Petunia doubtfully. “We’re not… putting ourselves in any danger, are we?”

“Aunt Petunia, I trust you,” said Harry. “You went ten years without telling me about the magic world, and years after that avoiding the subject around me even after I found out. I trust you to know that you won’t tell anyone else, but I need to make sure anyway.”

Aunt Petunia hesitated once more. Feels like I’m making a deal with the Devil, she thought before realizing that that was Vernon talking more than anything. She quashed it quickly, and nodded. “Your secret’s safe, Harry,” she said.

“Alright, then,” said Harry, opening the case to them.

“You probably had one of these at one point, Aunt Petunia,” Harry explained as she and Dudley stared down into the purple-silk lined box, in which lay two golden chains with a simple crystal on the end of each.

“I did,” Petunia breathed. “When Lily became a witch, my parents and I each received one. I still have it, in a box somewhere in the attic. Do you think it still works?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” said Harry. “Its magic probably wore out a long time ago, they need to be recharged every year. I figured you’d need a new one, so I put in an order when Hermione put in for the rest of her family.”

“What are they?” asked Dudley, completely at a loss during this exchange.

“Muggle Charms, I think she called them?” Petunia asked, and Harry nodded in confirmation.

“They’re passports, for lack of a better description,” Harry explained. “There are areas of this world where wizards and witches live, work, shop, whatever, that can’t be accessed by Muggles. The barriers are set so only those with magic in their body, their blood, can pass through. Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, St. Mungo’s, those types of areas. Even Squibs, who are wizard-borns that don’t have any power, still have enough magic in them to pass through to these places. But most Muggles have none.

“Muggle Charms change that,” he continued. “You put these on, and they infuse you with a minimal amount of magic. Enough to pass through most of the barriers set in our world.”

“The woman who came to speak to Lily brought three of them with her,” said Petunia. “One for each of our parents, and one for me.”

Harry nodded. “And the Grangers had the same when McGonagall spoke to Hermione. They’ve been able to come in and out of Diagon Alley and Platform 9 3/4s as long as I’ve known them.”

Dudley and Petunia continued to stare into the box. “Go ahead,” Harry insisted. “One for each of you. But be careful to only touch one. They’re infused with a magic called flesh memory. As soon as you touch it, it becomes yours and no one else’s. That’s why I can’t pull them out for you, I’m only allowed to hold the box.”

Dudley reached in first, afraid of what might happen when he did touch the necklace, like he was going to be shocked, or something. Instead, he felt a slight tingle in his hand as he took the small crystal, no larger than a marble, in his fingers.

“Wow,” he said, pulling it out. “So I can do magic now?”

“Not really,” said Harry. “Like I said, you probably have as much magic now as your average Squib. And it’s only temporary, you have to recharge them once a year. I’ll explain that later. And you can only do one spell.”

“What’s that?”

“Accio,” said Petunia, taking the second one for herself. “In case you lose it, it will come to you, correct?”

“Right,” said Harry. “The chain’s unbreakable. And if anyone steals it from you it won’t work for them, now that the flesh memory charm’s in effect. But it can still be misplaced, so Accio will bring it to you if that ever happens.”

“But, still,” said Dudley, putting it around his neck. “Pretty damn cool that I get to cast a spell.”

“There are a lot of restrictions, though,” explained Harry. “They’re heavily regulated by the Ministry, for obvious reasons. You can’t go into the Ministry; Muggles are still forbidden there except for extremely important people, like the Prime Minister. Hogwarts is only available to you by invitation. St. Mungo’s, the hospital, has their own way to handle jinxed Muggles, but you can only enter as a visitor if you’re on the pass list for someone who’s a patient. But if anything happens to me, Ginny, or Teddy, know that you’re both on our lists; I’ll have to show you where it is someday, but if you forget I’m sure the Weasleys can get you there. Again, extreme circumstances, you can’t go in for a checkup.”

“Sounds like these things are getting more useless by the minute,” said Dudley.

“Not really,” said Harry. “Diagon Alley is still available to you, just so long as you don’t buy anything and use it in public display. You can get quills, parchment, candy, whatever. Same with Hogsmeade. The Floo Network and Portkeys are available to you, but the Ministry probably wouldn’t want you abusing them. And, most importantly, these allow you to go through any barrier put up to hide a wizard residence or neighborhood, so long as you’re on their Guest List.”

“Guest List?” asked Dudley.

“Some houses don’t have them, but most do,” explained Harry. “It’s just what it sounds like. A jinxed piece of paper, or a book, with a list of names on it. Makes sure to keep strange Muggles out; not all wizards are decent people, and they’ve given Muggle Charms to some pretty shady people. The Ministry tries to keep their eyes open, but some slip through.”

“Sounds like a decent system,” said Petunia. “If only we had one of those in the real world, the crime rate would plummet.”

“That’s the hope,” said Harry. “Anyway, you’re on our Guest List here at Grimmauld. Ron and Hermione’s in Tutshill, Molly and Arthur’s at the Burrow…”

“I thought we could get to the Burrow already, though,” said Dudley. “That’s where the wedding was, right?”

“Enchanted invitations,” Harry explained. “Only those with wedding invitations could get through, and for only that day. Anyway… those three places. Andromeda has you down, Teddy’s grandmother. Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage, I’ll have to take you there sometime. Oh, yeah, and Susan and Hannah have Dudley down for their flat, but I’m sure they’ll put Petunia down once Susan’s ready to have your Mum over for tea.”

Dudley blushed slightly at this, and Harry couldn’t help but snicker. The two hadn’t seen each other since the reception, but whenever Harry and Susan Bones spoke at the Ministry (and this was fairly often, as they worked on the same floor), the first questions out of her mouth always dealt with his cousin. The minimal communication he had with Dudley in that same time period bore similar inquiries about Amelia Bones’s niece.

“Beyond that, I’m not sure,” said Harry to Petunia. “If you want to use my owl to write to Pomona or Hestia they would probably put you down on their lists no problem, and the same goes if either of you want to get in contact with anyone else you met at the wedding or wherever. After that it’s just a matter of, you know, getting a network set up, getting to know people, getting them comfortable enough to invite you over. Regular rules still apply in all cases, though; the door’s locked unless they open it for you. Knocking and ringing the doorbell.”

Dudley shook his head. “It’s like I’m in a bleeding video game.”

“Welcome to the real world, Duddikins,” Harry said, closing the box and pulling his wand from his back pocket. “Can I have those slips of paper I gave you? The ones with my address on them?”

“Sure,” said Dudley, pulling it out of his pocket. Petunia did the same, pulling it from her purse. Harry took them in his hand and pointed the tip at them.

“They’re memorized, right?” he asked. When they both nodded, he said “Incendio!” and the two pieces of parchment burnt into ashes.

“What did you do that for?”

“Extra protection,” Harry said as the three got out of the car. “Think about the address, please. Now that you’re temporary wizards, it should work.”

Number 12 Grimmauld Place? thought Dudley. Why should I…?

No sooner did the words pass through his mind than the buildings stretched in front of him, revealing a matching house with the number 12 emblazoned over the front door. Dudley’s mouth dropped open, and he could see through the side of his vision that his mother looked just as shocked at this sudden appearance.

Harry quickly glanced up and down the sidewalk, not noticing what was occurring. “All clear,” he said, picking up Petunia’s suitcases. “Come on.” At that, he quickly walked toward the house and up the steps.

Looks like he noticed it after all, Dudley thought as Petunia followed Harry. Realizing that his suitcases were still on the sidewalk, Dudley pulled them up by their handles and followed the two into the open door.

“Sorry about all the extra security,” Harry apologized as they entered the house.

“Are we going to have to do that with all of the wizard houses?” asked Dudley. “We have to memorize addresses, too?”

“Just this one, unless things start going bad again,” said Harry. “We have an extra protection spell on the house called a Fidelius Charm. I don’t like it, but Kingsley insisted.”

“What does it do?” asked Petunia as she took her scarf off.

“It’s complicated,” said Harry. “But the dime store version is that I’m a Secret-Keeper for this house. No one can come in, no one even knows it exists, unless I tell them, either in person or in writing. The Ministry set it up because they’re afraid some Death Eater might get it in their gut to take out some vengeance on me. But it actually comes in a lot handier in other ways, since it keeps the press from beating down our door.”

“The press?” said Petunia, slightly aghast. “Why would they want you?”

Harry shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “It’s not like I defeated Voldemort. He beat himself. Anyway, I’d like to think I’m old hat by now, but the paparazzi’s almost as bad in the wizard world as they are in the Muggle. They slowed down for a bit about a year ago, but ever since I got married they’ve started sniffing around again, both at me and at Ginny. The Fidelius keeps them away from the house.”

As Petunia removed her jacket, she shook her head. All those years of paying attention to celebrity marriages, relationships, and children, she never thought that she’d actually be related to one of them.

But he can’t be a celebrity, her rational mind protested. He’s just Harry Potter, for God’s sake.

“I can give you the grand tour later,” said Harry as they walked into the kitchen, a small brown owl hooting softly in a cage in the corner. “But dinner’s almost ready.”

“You’re cooking for yourself?” said Petunia, not without some level of pride, as she smelled the odor of baking food. “I guess I taught you well. I would have expected pizza delivery.”

“Can you get pizza delivered?” asked Dudley. “I’m probably going to be in the mood one of these days.”

“Not really,” said Harry, peeking into the oven. “You’d have to give them an address to meet you at, so it’s probably just as easy to pick it up yourself. And this isn’t my cooking, Aunt Petunia. Kreacher just left after you showed up, or I would have introduced him.”

He paused in the middle of the kitchen, furrowing his brow in thought.

“Actually,” he corrected, “You’ve already met him. Little knobby-looking elf, showed up in your living room before my sixth year.”

Petunia’s jaw dropped. “That… thing… is still with you?”

“Ummm, yeah,” said Harry carefully. “But he’s loads better now. He works here on weekdays. But don’t worry,” he added quickly in response to Petunia’s look of horror, “He’ll keep out of your way. He doesn’t like to be a bother as long as you treat him well.”

“What… what does he do around here?”

“He’s a house elf, does house elf things. Cleans, mostly. Laundry, dishes, shopping, whatever. If Ginny’s not at practice or a game, or if Teddy or I are around, he’ll make us lunch or tea. That’s about it, though. Ginny and I were both raised by taskmasters, we know how to clean up after ourselves.”

Petunia, recognizing an insult when she heard one, opened her mouth to protest. But then she saw the warm smile on Harry’s face and relented. I’m not used to him making jokes around me, she thought, and saw from her son’s face that he was thinking the same thing. Yet another thing to add to the list of things to get used to now that we’re all on speaking terms.

“So if this creature does all the housework, what am I supposed to do?” she asked instead.

“Nothing,” said Harry. “Well, nothing in terms of cleaning or cooking or whatever. Hell, Kreacher would be insulted if you tried. Your job’s a lot simpler: get yourself back on your feet again. Both of you.”

Petunia shook her head. “I feel like I should do something,” she said. “I’m taking advantage of your hospitality. You’ve only been married six months, and you already are letting family members use your spare rooms.”

“You’re not taking advantage,” Harry insisted. “Hell, I lived with you for sixteen years, even though we both wished I didn’t. A month is the least I can do.”

“That’s all I’m going to need,” said Dudley. “No more than that. I just need to find a construction company that’ll hire me on. I have some decent references, shouldn’t take long.”

“And the same with me,” said Petunia as Harry pulled the shepherd’s pie out of the oven. “I have enough from the divorce settlement and the sale of the house to get a decent flat. I just don’t think anyone will take me unless I’m employed.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” asked Harry, realizing that, as long as he had lived with the Dursleys, Vernon was the only one who had ever had a job.

“Nothing too difficult,” Petunia said as she started opening cupboards left and right. “Plates?”

“Two to your right,” said Harry. “Dudley, cups are next to the sink.”

“I haven’t worked since sixth form,” Petunia continued. “I was a waitress. I don’t think I could go back to that again. I might see what type of openings there are in some shops around the area. Even if I have to work a cash register, it’s a start.”

“So you’re planning on staying in London, then?”

“Or one of the nearby villages,” Petunia shrugged. “I’ll find a job first, then find somewhere to live near there. Hopefully I can save some money if I don’t have to use the Underground too often.”

“How about you, Big D?” asked Harry. “You going to move to the big city?”

“Probably,” Dudley said. “I was talking about getting a flat with Piers and Gordon before we left Privet Drive. But I don’t know. I’ve barely spoken to either of them since we got to Milwaukee. I’m not sure if they’d be up for that anymore. Hell, I’m not sure if I’d be up for that anymore.”

That caused Harry a moment’s pause. He was still trying to get used to Dudley being the new and improved model. How were his friends taking it? Did he even consider people like Piers his friends anymore? And, if not, who did he have left here in England?

Something told Harry that he’d be seeing more of his cousin than he had thought he would be after leaving Privet Drive four years ago. Harry and his other friends both. The thought didn’t disturb him as much as it might have in the past.

Whatever Dudley thought of his newly-found social situation, he didn’t show it now. “How many cups?” he asked as he dug through the cupboard. “Four? Is Ginny coming home?”

“No, she has a match against Ballycastle this weekend, so she won’t be home till Sunday. But pull four, anyway, we’re expecting one more.”

“So she made the main squad?” asked Dudley.

“Yeah,” said Harry with no lack of pride. “Got in as Chaser right after we got back from our honeymoon. She’s already in the top five in scoring in the league, and she’s only been playing half a season.”

“I’d love to get to a match sometime,” said Dudley. “Have you gotten to many games?” Sports had always been an interest for him and, from what Harry heard from Dedalus, a lot of their time on the run had been spent talking Quidditch.

“A few,” said Harry. “When I can get away from work. She plays for Holyhead, so her home games are way out on the west end of Wales.”

“Just a few?” asked Petunia. “I thought you’d be more supportive than that.”

“Okay, fine, most,” Harry admitted. “But I’m here this weekend. And, like I said, work does keep me away occasionally. More now than before, actually.”

“What is it you do, exactly?”

“Well, for lack of a better term, I’m a Muggle liaison for the Ministry,” Harry said as he dug through the icebox. “Which means something different now compared to when I started last year. At first my job was to help with the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, which did exactly what the name implies. If anything magical happened that was in the plain view of Muggles, we were sent in to try to come up with an explanation that could be accepted. If they bought it, fine. If they didn’t, we altered their memory to make them think that they had seen something mundane.”

Petunia stared at him suspiciously. “You… you haven’t altered our memories, have you?”

“What?” said Harry. “No! Okay, well, the Ministry altered Aunt Marge’s memory after… well… you know…”

After you inflated her like the Goodyear blimp, thought Petunia. Deep down, Petunia was glad that she could still remember it, even though Marge couldn’t. She never liked the woman, and now that Vernon was out of her life, Petunia was more than willing to loathe her.

“But you two were never touched,” Harry insisted as he poured his aunt and cousin some tea. “Anyway, that’s what I used to do. But my position, a lot of our positions, have changed. They made a few adjustments, created a few new departments, after what happened in the States in September.”

“The World Trade Center?” said Dudley, and Harry nodded. “But… those weren’t magic attacks, were they?”

“No, they were Muggle,” said Harry somewhat darkly. “Total bastards, but Muggle. It was a wakeup call, though, for wizards and Muggles both. Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgoer, the last two real Ministers before Kingsley, had stuck to the old line, even through the war: Keep the magical problems to the magical world, and the Muggle world will handle itself. They only spoke to the Prime Minister in times of extreme emergencies, and even then didn’t give any information beyond ‘Keep calm, we’re working on it.’

“It can’t be that way anymore,” said Harry. “The Death Eaters may be on their last legs, but they’re not the only ones who want to see Muggles below us. The Ministry’s afraid that the attacks in September are going to give too many ideas to too many people. And they’re not the only ones. Every wizard government in the world sees it. Religious fanatics are bad enough. But religious fanatics with magical powers are downright terrifying.”

“So that’s what you do now?” asked Dudley. “Kind of a magical equivalent of that Homeland Security department the US set up?”

“Kind of,” said Harry. “Kingsley and the Muggle Prime Minister have set up a secret task force within British Intelligence. We exchange information with each other a lot more freely than we had before, when our connection to the Muggle government was just an occasional walk into the PM’s office. So that’s what I’m doing now. And that’s what Hermione’s doing. And that’s what a lot of other Muggle-borns in the Ministry were assigned to do: to be liaisons with this new department, give them any information the Aurors are willing to share, and to give the Aurors any that the Muggles want to exchange. We’re the most qualified for the job, since we’re comfortable in both worlds.”

“And that’s working?”

“Hopefully,” said Harry. “Auror Intelligence and Muggle Intelligence have been pretty independent for a lot of years. It’ll take some time to get them to trust each other, considering the Muggles never knew we existed before two or three months ago. But from what the Prime Minister’s told me, things are getting better.”

Petunia nearly gagged on her tea. “The Prime Minister?” she rasped. “You… you speak to the Prime Minister?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Harry said, and Petunia was amazed that this wasn’t a bigger deal to him. “I guess Kingsley decided that he might be more impressed if he was meeting with the savior of the wizarding world, or something. So I’m assigned to communicate with him when Kingsley or Percy are too busy elsewhere, or if we need more of a subtle touch than from an ex-military man or a by-the-books bureaucrat.”

“But still,” said Petunia, glancing over at her son to see the same look of shock on his face. “You’re… that’s quite a job for someone your age.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s comfortable,” he said. “I’m sure Kingsley’s begging for the day that I decide I’ve had enough; he has an office in the Auror Department ready and waiting. Probably has a house elf keeping the seat warm for me. But I’m married. Going to have kids someday. Already have a godson. I’m not ready to put my life on the line again, not as a career, at least, now that I have a family.”

The three shared an uncomfortable silence. “Harry, I know that you’ve been through some things,” said Petunia. “But to say that you’re putting your life on the line… you can’t be…”

“I told you we have a lot of catching up to do,” said Harry. “I’m hoping I could start tonight? Unless you two are going somewhere?”

Before either of them could answer, there was a knock at the front door.

“Could you get that, Dudley?” asked Harry, turning his attention back to the icebox. “I need to get the salad ready.”

“Ummm, sure,” said Dudley, standing up. “I don’t need to do anything special, do I?”

“The spell’s already allowed them to find the location,” said Harry. “But it’s still polite to knock and be invited in. So you don’t have to do anything but open the door.”

“Alright,” Dudley shrugged, then walked down the hall. Petunia gave Harry a look.

“That’s who I think it is, isn’t it?”

In response, the two heard the door open, followed shortly by a high-pitched squeal of glee.

“Yeah, probably,” said Harry with a grin.

Sure enough, a few moments later, Dudley Dursley returned to the kitchen, Susan Bones in tow and a big smile on his face.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” he was saying as they entered.

“Harry invited me,” said Susan.

“She’s our fourth,” said Harry, pointing at her with a pair of salad tongs. “Hey, Susan.”

“Hello, Harry,” Susan replied. “Hello, Mrs. Dursley.”

“Ms. Evans now,” said Petunia. “But, hello, Susan.”

“Her only payment is that she’ll have to listen to me ramble on to you two for an hour or so about things she probably already knows a lot about.”

Susan snorted as she and Dudley sat down at the table. “Yeah, right, like I know much about you,” she said, turning to Petunia. “We were passing acquaintances, at most, at Hogwarts. I was closer to Hermione and Ginny. Most of his adventures I heard third-hand or through the rumor mill. I’m just as curious to hear about it as you are.”

“As are we,” said Petunia. “We still never got the full story about what put us on the run in the first place outside of the basic ‘Voldemort’s out to kill me’ explanation.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Harry. “I took a few notes, thought it might help me get things straight in my mind.” He motioned to a small pile of parchment. Next to it was a much much larger pile.

“And you decided to write an encyclopedia?” asked Dudley, looking strangely intimidated by the stack.

“No, Hermione decided to help,” said Harry, shaking his head sadly. “Those are her notes.”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t know anybody could write that much.”

“You obviously don’t know Hermione very well,” said Susan with a wry smile, and Harry chuckled. “That’s light compared to some of her N.E.W.T. papers.”

“Hermione could write a book,” said Harry, “hell, she could write seven books about me and still need to write an encyclopedia before she’d even think that she had written enough.”

“I don’t think I’m going to need quite that much detail,” said Petunia, the look of distaste on her face as well as she stared at the pile of parchment.

“You won’t get it,” said Harry, putting the pie on the table. “I’m not much for words. They’re just there if you want to get more detail later. But, now, if you want to tuck in…”

As the three guests of the Potter household took their turns piling dinner onto their plates, Harry reached beneath his small stack of notes.

“I want to make sure I’m not, um, over-explaining people who you would already know, Aunt Petunia,” he said. “So before I get started, I just want to make sure of something.”

He pulled a small photograph from his stack and handed it to Petunia. She peered down at the four young boys, smiling and waving back at her.

Harry Potter leaned toward her, looking at the picture along with her, a nostalgic smile on his face. He asked,

“Do you recognize any of them?”

“I do,” said Petunia. “The one there,” she pointed to the boy second from the right, “That’s your father, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Harry. “That’s James.”

“I didn’t know him when he was that young,” said Petunia. “He and Lily didn’t begin dating until later.”

“Wow, it moves?” said Dudley, leaning in with Susan.

“Yet another thing I have to teach you,” said Susan dryly. “He looks like you, Harry.”

“I get that a lot, yeah,” said Harry. Turning his attention back to Petunia, he said, “How about the others?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “They’re so young, it’s difficult. The one on James’ left, he was best man at their wedding?”

“That’s Sirius,” said Harry. “My godfather. This was his house. The one on the far right is Remus Lupin, Teddy’s father, and the one on the far left is Peter Pettigrew.”

“Was his house?”

“Like I said, I have a lot to explain.”

“Well, I guess you’d better start at the beginning, then,” said Petunia, leaning back in her chair.

“Right, the beginning,” said Harry, thinking back.

Where to start?

But there was really only one place to start.

“Seventy-five years ago,” said Harry, “There was a boy named Tom Riddle…”

Three Years Later: ReceptionFic / Previous Chapters / Things You Already Know