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Chapter Text

Harry saw Dudley before Dudley saw him, which was good because honestly, he still wasn’t sure whether to approach or not. One fine Sunday morning, Dudley Dursley had sent him a letter. Yes, Dudley had actually done that. Via an owl. He had sent Harry a letter.  It was hard to imagine but even harder to deny, and the letter he was presently holding in his hand was a physical proof and couldn’t be imagined away.

Dear, Harry

Please, I need your help. I hope this owl knows how to find you because I don’t. If you can, please contact me.

Dudley.

Ron had almost had a seizure when he’d seen the letter. He had also told Harry not to go, cause ‘the bloody git deserves anything that comes his way’. He’d been very adamant about that. Even Ginny had been against Harry going to Muggle London to see his cousin, but to be perfectly honest, Harry couldn’t help but be curious. He had actually gotten owl post from Dudley bloody Dursley. That did not happen every day.

Only Hermione had seemed to think meeting the guy was the best option. “He must really be desperate to reach out this way”, she’d said.

Harry had thought so too. But now that he saw him from a distance, he still wasn’t sure what to do. Dudley had grown older, of course. They were both nearing their forties, but to Harry’s eyes, he looked especially old. And small. He’d muscled up during their last year living together under the same roof but even those muscles had seemingly disappeared during the time they’d spent without seeing each other at all. Twenty  years was a long time to not see someone and still remember what they should look like, to spot all that was wrong or odd.

Now that he saw him sitting on the park bench, nervously twitching his hands, getting up to walk about and then sitting down again, it was easy to tell Hermione had been right. Dudley was scared. It was enough to get Harry moving.

When Dudley saw him approach, he immediately jumped on his feet and hurried to meet him. “H-harry”, he stuttered, barely getting the words out. “I wasn’t sure if you would… I thought… thank you. Thank you for meeting with me. Thank you so much! I-I don’t even know if…”

“Hey”, Harry said grabbing the man’s twitching hands in his before he ripped his stupid hat apart. The image of Dudley holding his hat in his hands like a guy entering a church had seemed funny a minute ago but now, Harry was not laughing. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

How are you in trouble? How could I possibly help you? How do you know how to use owl post? Where did you even find an owl? All great questions he didn’t get to ask, but what Dudley said next would have distracted him from the issue anyhow.

“Please, Harry, it’s my mum. There was an accident, and I don’t… she’s in the hospital and the doctors they... they say she might not make it."

Chapter Text

There was no way Dudley would be able to drive considering the condition he was currently in. He’d been extremely worried for some time now – and yes, Harry could relate to the feeling, even if worrying about someone like Petunia Dursley felt alien to him – but the relief of having Harry there had made him all wobbly and sniffly, bordering on hysterical.

So, Harry had offered to drive. Because he was a decent lad. And because he didn’t want to end up in a ditch somewhere on his way to the hospital to take a look at a person he’d spent years hating and loving. Mostly hating. One of his last blood relatives, as far as he knew anyway.

“I didn’t know you can drive”, Dudley admitted after some time on the road, tapping his forehead with some paper tissues he’d fished from the car’s glove department. He’d been watching the road and the scenery passing by with eyes that couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Finally, he’d started speaking. “I thought you had brooms and things to get around. Magic carpets…”

Harry had to wait for him to blow his nose before answering: “My friend taught me to drive years ago, but I also took some Muggle lessons. I do have a licence.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Yeah.” Harry couldn’t help glancing at the rearview mirror. He had seen the baby car seat in the back. So, Dudley had a small child. Technically, Harry supposed he was an uncle, then. An uncle to a child he hadn’t even known existed. He wasn’t ready to ask about that, though. Not yet. So, instead, he focused on something else. Talking seemed to calm Dudley down. “How did you find me, anyway? I mean, you sent me an owl, Dudley. An actual, living owl. That’s not a very Dursley way to do things.”

Dudley made a sound, one weary chuckle. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy. I tried looking around the King’s Cross station, at first. It was where dad always took you when the school year started in September, but I couldn’t find the right platform. Couldn’t remember the numbers. I didn’t really know what to do so I just wandered around the station and the surrounding area ‘till I saw people with owls and such, you know. Big luggage. Kinda like what you had back then.”

“And did you… just talk to them, or…?”

“Well, I had to, didn’t I? So, I kept asking people, telling them I needed to contact someone at Hogwarts, but didn’t know how to. That I had, um, a friend working there. I kept telling them it was an emergency, but people just wouldn’t help me.”

Harry was afraid he knew the reason for that, but he didn’t deem it wise to say anything right at that moment. “Until someone did, yes?”

Dudley nodded, solemnly, still wiping his eyes from time to time. “He was a professor, I think. At your school. He was kind enough to hear me and even forwarded my message to you. By the time I got home your owl was already there, waiting for me with your answer. I mean I knew it wasn’t your owl, not the same one, at least, it wasn’t white. But still, I couldn’t believe it! And now you're actually here. Harry, I don’t know… I don’t even know what to say… I don’t know how to thank you…”

“Don’t thank me yet”, Harry mumbled, a wave of old anger and loss washing over him at the mention of poor Hedwig. “I’m here, but I’m not a doctor nor am I a healer. I don’t know that kind of magic. Truthfully, I don’t even know whether I can help you at all.”

"Yes, of course. I - I understand. " Dudley said. A minute passed by, maybe two, before he spoke again. “Why did you come then?” 

Harry pursed his lips.  He’d been wondering about that too, but, at the end of the day, there was only one plausible answer he could come up with. 

 “Because you are family.”

Chapter Text

If seeing Dudley after so many years had felt weird, seeing grey haired Uncle Vernon slouched down on a hospital chair like one humongous, drained plum was even more strange. He too had shrunk in size somewhat since they last saw each other, probably due to old age, Harry thought, but unlike with Dudley, whose worry was palpable and quite understandable – and yet, still in the realm of manageable – all fight had seemingly gone out of the Dursley father.

He didn’t even have the energy to greet Harry in any special Dursley manner. Or at all, really. No mean looks, no trembling moustaches, no pointing fingers. Nada. He could switch places with the houseplant next to him and Harry might not even be able to tell the difference.

Harry was okay with that. He wasn’t here for Vernon Dursley and had no need for any more interaction with the man than was strictly necessary. Seeing Dudley trying to talk to him and getting more or less the same reaction did make Harry feel some pity towards his cousin at least.

“See, Dad. Harry’s here to help us. I told you I would try to find him, remember?  I’m sure we can figure something out together. There must be things his people can do to help us.”

Okay, Duds, let’s not promise things we can’t deliver.

Dudley’s words of encouragement barely earned him a grunt. He looked up at Harry, eyes set in dismay.

My sentiments exactly, Harry thought. “Right”, he said. “Um, I’ll see what I can do.”

When he finally got the to see Aunt Petunia, one look was enough to make him realise this whole thing was way beyond his capabilities. Dudley had told him about the car crash and everything else, but seeing her there, just lying lifeless on the hospital bed made it all seem so much more real. Harry had seen friends and loved ones in this state before. Petunia Dursely was neither... But seeing her like that still felt wrong.

Having Dudley hovering at the doorway, looking at him like he was Obi-Wan bloody Kenobi didn’t make matters any easier.

“Just give me a moment, okay?”

“Yeah. Right – of course.”

Dudley left the room and shut the door behind him. Harry could still see him and Uncle Vernon through the window, considered closing the shutters on them but decided against it. That might just alarm Dudley unnecessarily. Hoping at least to have some privacy from prying eyes, he retreated to the back of the room to call Hermione. She picked up right away.

“Harry, is everything all right? Did you meet with Dudley?”                                         

“Yeah, I’m at the hospital right now," he said, looking at Aunt Petunia. He quickly filled Hermione in.“I’m way over my head ‘Mione. What could I possible do the help here? I’m not a doctor.”

Hermione sounded troubled: “If only we could send a healer… but the paperwork… it’ll take months before we’d get anyone to visit a Muggle hospital.”

“… I don’t think they have that long.”

“Well, perhaps if we... no, that won't work. I was just thinking... we could try some potions or spells ourselves, but it might be too dangerous. Combining magic with Muggle medication is not something just anyone can do successfully. Is there no half-blood or muggleborn graduates working at the hospital?”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I checked. Doctor Keswick’s retired and the other one – can’t remember his name – moved back to Baltimore last summer.”

He took a minute and just looked at his aunt’s still form. There was more gray in her hair too – Harry was a bit surprised. Aunt Petunia loved everything pristine and proper. You’d think she would have dyed it or something.

“She looks… very peaceful”, Harry remarked, sitting down beside the bed. “You’d almost think she was just sleeping…”

“Oh, Harry…”

“But… if Dudley hadn’t told me I’d never guessed she’d been in a car accident at all. There’s not a mark on her.”

Of course, the whole thing had happened months ago. Dudley and Uncle Vernon had recovered nicely. It was only when Aunt Petunia hadn’t woken up when they thought to get in touch with Harry.

For all the good that it did.

Harry looked up at the rest of the Dursley family, wondering what to tell Dudley, when he realised the sad duo he had left waiting in the hallway had, at some point, turned into a semi-happy quartet. There was a dark-haired woman unfamiliar to Harry now sitting between Uncle Vernon and Dudley, holding a young child. A young child who, as Harry watched, was trying her best to escape her mother’s arms and climb up Vernon’s belly to pull at his moustaches.

This little kid was too young to understand what was going on and was trying to make her sad grandfather – without a doubt, that’s what Uncle Vernon was to her – smile again.

“Hermione”, Harry said. “I need you to help me contact someone.”

Chapter Text

”I was on my way home.”

William Brown sounded like he really would have preferred to be anywhere else.

Harry and Dudley were both startled by the grumpy doctor that walked into the room. Harry at least assumed he was the doctor he’d been promised. Didn’t really look the part, though. Messy brown hair, flannel shirt with what appeared to be dog hair on the sleeves, worn out jeans. Harry would have guessed a lumberjack before a doctor. Or someone who really liked outdoors and dogs.

Also…

“That was quick”, he couldn’t help but blurt out. He had gotten off the phone not five minutes ago and had barely enough time to catch Dudley up on what was happening. Dudley’s wife – Ella – had taken Uncle Vernon to the cafeteria for a cup of tea, so he was out of the way.

“Well, I was just upstairs so…” Doctor Brown shrugged.

To say that Harry was confused, would be an understatement.

“What, you were at the hospital already? But I checked the list, I thought there was no one here from our side.”

“Maybe he’s a patient”, suggested Dudley. Harry gave him a look. Then thought about it and asked: “Are you a patient?”

“… No. I’m just not on the list.”

Doctor Brown walked past them and stopped before Aunt Petunia’s bed.

Dudley got up and joined him. He looked nervous as hell but when he spoke his voice quivered only a little: “Can you help my mum?”

“Give me a moment”, Doctor Brown said. “I’m going to check her now, Mr. Dursely. But I will need my wand for that. I’m not going to harm her; you have my word.”

“No, that’s quite alright! I-I know Harry has a wand, too, so… “

Doctor Brown wasn’t a man of many words, but he was obviously good with Muggles. Very good bedside manner, at least. Though, he didn’t seem to care for Harry all that much.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. But I must say, you are lucky I owed your friend a huge favor.” He raised his wand pointedly. “This isn’t something I usually do.”

“He’s not my… friend. More of an acquaintance.”

To put it nicely.

William Brown, as it turned out, was a pure-blood wizard who wasn’t on the list of known Wizard healers working in the Muggle hospitals because:

a) he was a pure-blood, and no one thought a pure-blood would work at a Muggle hospital, so they didn’t even check for them and

b) he had cut off most of his connections to the wizarding world years ago, for reasons he didn’t want to talk about.

Harry wondered, if maybe he should be worried about that.

“It’s nothing criminal, Mr. Potter”, Doctor Brown said off-handedly, guessing his thoughts. Or – as it then turned out – probably straight up hearing them. “I’m a natural-born Legilimens and, as you can imagine, that comes with its own set of problems. However, this gift of mine might be the solution to your problem. I don’t really deal with the wizarding world anymore, but I never stopped honing my craft. I can help you reach your Aunt and possibly bring her back. I will handle the spell and the specifics, but you, Mr. Potter, will have to go in to get her. “

Chapter Text

To be perfectly honest, Harry had never ever thought he would someday return to his old childhood home in Surrey, Little Whining. Of course, calling the house number four on Privet Drive a home was pushing it a bit, but he had been a child here.

Once.

Coming back like this definitely hadn’t been in his crystal ball - if you’ll excuse my language, Hermione – which made the whole situation all the more overwhelming.

That being said, he knew he was on a time limit here. Standing hidden in the dark entrance wasn’t helping anybody and he was here to help. As hard as it was to believe.

The house itself looked just like he remembered it. His Aunt and Uncle had rarely felt the need to arrange or even update their furniture. Only the pictures on the walls changed, as had been the case as long as he could remember. The pictures of his cousin growing up, changing as the years passed.

The pictures had always made Harry laugh. Making fun of Dudley having been his only source of joy for the longest of time. But looking at them now… Aunt Petunia remembered them very differently. Harry could feel it. They were warm. Full of love and adoration.

Still no pictures of Harry, of course. Harry was never supposed to be here.

The thought filled him with old resentment, old sorrows of a little boy who didn’t know what he’d done that was so wrong.

Old, but not forgotten sorrows, apparently.

I was here, though.

He walked further in, fingers tracing the old, familiar wallpaper.

I was here.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

Aunt Petunia was standing by the kitchen window, staring at the grey sky. Harry found her appearance somewhat off-putting, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what the problem was. Maybe her hair was darker than it should be... her crossed arms looked wrong too. Too sharp, too angular. Almost skeleton like.

The reality of her situation was leaking into her dreams.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Harry”, Aunt Petunia said, acknowledging his presence.

Understatement of the century, Harry thought, though he wasn't sure whether she meant 'here' as in in this house, period, or 'here' right at that specific moment. Judging from Dudley's baby pictures, this memory was before Harry's time.

"I know”, he eventually said, wondering what approach to take in a situation like this. From what he had understood, knowing the person under the enchantment was somewhat crucial. He couldn’t really say he was an expert on all things Petunia Dursley, though.

He supposed all he could do was try. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, either.”

“This is my home.”

“I know”, Harry repeated, closing the distance between them.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting to see, but it was not this. Aunt Petunia was looking at the sky, yes, but more importantly, she was looking at the owls, hundreds upon hundreds of owls flocking around the house.

Now that he saw them, he could hear them screaming at her. A cacophony of voices, screeches and shrieks, that - in real life - would have been enough to make your ears bleed.

These were not normal owls, no owl could make a noise like that.

“They keep coming back”, Aunt Petunia muttered, hugging herself more tightly but appearing otherwise almost eerily calm. “They won’t leave me alone. They just… keep coming back.”

Chapter Text

Harry stood next to Aunt Petunia, shoulder to shoulder, gazing out the window with her for what felt like an eternity. He was trying to understand the reasoning behind all that he was seeing. Was this the reason she wasn't waking up? But why this? What the hell was it with the owls and the Dursleys these days?           

He turned around when he heard a sound, someone was behind him – a younger version of Petunia Dursley had just come down the stairs wearing a light blue bathrobe and a head full of those weird roll things Muggles used to make their hair curly.

Ginny once tried the "Muggle way" too, which had ended horribly due to the rolls in question originating from Arthur Weasley's secret "workshop for interesting Muggle things". She had made Harry and Ron swear never to tell Mrs. Weasley about the incident.

"Puh-lease, I want Dad to reach the honourable age of 150", Ron had told her.

Harry, of course, would never say anything that would cause an argument between the two, though he did tell the Weasley father to maybe be more careful in the future.

The Petunia with the dangerous rolls disappeared around the corner.

Another one soon popped up holding a very pouty looking baby Dudley - who kind of reminded Harry of a little baby James, but he didn’t want to dwell on that too much right at that moment.

Aunt Petunia spared one, warm smile at the memory re-playing before them, at Dudley having a fit, at Uncle Vernon leaving for work, before turning away again. The room was bathed in warm sunlight, but the sky seen through the window was grey and getting darker. 

It was slowly dawning on Harry; what day she was re-living. He watched the memory change, as the evening fell. The Uncle Vernon that came back was acting weird and skittish and the night sky was suddenly lit up before their eyes.

Like thousands and thousands of racing candles.

Even the owls fell silent.

‘Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they’ve had- ‘

“A downpour of shooting stars”, Aunt Petunia whispered.

They watched the younger Petunia sit down on the couch with Uncle Vernon, drinking tea and laughing. Untouched by the flashing lights outside.

Harry felt like he was invading some private moment between them, but for him, this gentle, mushy  moment itself felt so unreal, it was hard to even feel truly bad about trampling in on it. What Petunia Dursely remembered was so different from what he knew to be true, it made him doubt whether he was in the right woman’s head at all.

Potter! Focus!

Harry grimaced, not liking the feeling of Doctor Brown in his head, at all. “Sorry”, he muttered  under his breath.

“I should have known something was wrong”, Aunt Petunia suddenly said, making him pay attention again. “I should have known… I have seen this happen so many times. I want to tell her to go to bed, girl, don’t look at the news, don’t worry about anything. Just go to sleep. This is your final day before everything changes.”

Oh, yes, this was The Day.

“Of course, Vernon was already worried. He’d already heard… I just… I just keep hoping he wouldn’t say anything. But he always does because we always watch the news, and he always, always asks…”

But he didn’t ask.

Not this time.

Not about Lily, not about Harry, not about anything else, either.

Harry lowered his wand as Petunia turned to look at him, at the still living room, frozen in time, and then at him again.

“Harry”, she hissed, voice dripping pure poison. “What did you do?”

Chapter Text

What did you do, she was asking? Harry had to bite his tongue, wanting to tell her, to shout at her face: “I’m here to help, you stupid piece of-“

But of course, he would never say that,  not to her. He could hardly even think it, for god’s sake. Standing up to Uncle Vernon was one thing, but Aunt Petunia had always been the one little Harry had tried his best to please before he’d been old enough to know better. The one whose cruelty hurt the most. The one whose eyes still somehow reminded him of his mother, even if they didn’t match his own.

Harry couldn’t say he really had any parental figures in his life – the ones he’d briefly had having passed away left him with the Weasleys, but even they had the tendency to treat him like he was a little bit different from the rest of the Weasley children.

 Just a little bit special.

Then there was Aunt Petunia. The one adult in Harry’s life who was actually related to him and absolutely unmoved by his fame in the wizarding world. She could not care less that he was famous, she did not pity him for having lost his parents, for having gone to war, having witnessed people close to him die, friends and family,  she did not expect anything from him.  

Now that she was angry, he – just for a second –  felt like a little child wanting to hide after breaking some years old family heirloom. Harry was actually surprised how much sway she still had over him, after all these years.

Be that as it may, they had no time for her bullshit.

“Do you see this?” Harry asked, raising his wand.

Aunt Petunia took an involuntary step backwards. 

“Do not point that thing at me.”                                

Something in Harry’s heart twisted. After all these years, she was still afraid of him. How dared she? After all that she’d done to him, she had no right to be afraid.

Potter.

The voice came again, softer this time. Calming. Harry forced himself to relax, to keep a cool head. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and one of the only adults in his life who could still make him feel that way – however momentarily – was quite literally out of her mind.

“Why do you think I am here? “ He asked, lowering his hand and giving his aunt the space she so desperately needed. He gestured at himself. “Do I look like a child to you?”

Aunt Petunia seemed unsure. Then she shook her head, brows furrowing. “No, you don’t. You’re too old to be here. To be in this house.”

“That’s right. It’s because I never came back after the war”, Harry said and Petunia flinched, taking yet another step away from him. She remembered the war alright. Even the Dursleys hadn’t been able to deny it out of existence.

“But here’s the thing, I’m not actually here here. You are dreaming, Aunt Petunia. You are dreaming and I need you to wake up.”

Aunt Petunia was silent for a long time, but then, when she finally spoke, she managed once again to  take Harry by surprise.

“I don’t want to.”

“… You know this isn’t real?”

Aunt Petunia sniffed. “Of course, I know”, she said, and her shoulders slumped, hair falling to cover her eyes. “We don’t live here anymore. Too many bad memories.  This is a memory, right? My memory. Even the owls are a part of it. And the shooting stars.” She gazed out the window – nothing moved there either. “ This was the last night… and then Lily died and everything changed.”

She turned her head in Harry’s direction, a sliver of resentment in her cold, dark eyes. “The night you came along” she finished, promptly.

“…..”

“This is what you wanted to hear, right? You know damn well what day this is, don’t you dare say otherwise.”

Surprisingly, having to deal with a Petunia like this felt easier.  Harry wasn’t speaking to a quivering shadow anymore; he was conversing with an actual person – an actual person, who was aware, and who could be reasoned with. Even if the person in question was Petunia Dursley.

 “Do you remember what happened?” He asked.

Aunt Petunia started to say something but then quickly shook her head. “No, I… I don’t know. I don’t…”  Suddenly, her entire being seemed to collapse in on itself - like a doll having its strings cut - and she fell to her knees on the floor. “I remember.” She was covering her mouth, but the words were clear. So was the grief washing over Harry.

So much grief.

Harry knelt down next to her, speaking soothingly. “You were in a car crash.” He reminded her, prompting her to keep going.

“I was driving.” Petunia mumbled. “I never usually do but that night I did. “

She was clutching the hem of her skirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“I was the one driving” she said again, and her voice started to break. “Vernon was talking to Duddie who was sitting in the backseat with the flowers. He wanted to keep the flowers fresh and nice. We were on our way to the airport to pick up Ella, and Emma was…  but then there was… oh, god… “

She was outright crying now, sobbing into her hands. “Please, don’t make me say it out loud, please don’t make me say it,  I can’t! I just… can’t… my Vernon… my baby… it was all my fault! It was all… my fault. Just let me be with them here, please, Harry, let me be with them here.”

The scene and the setting  around them swirled into something new. Flashes of images started bombarding Harry at a quick, disorientating pace. A car driving down a dark road. A bouquet of pink daises on the backseat. Uncle Vernon was laughing. Aunt Petunia was watching him, watching them. She wasn’t watching the road. By the time she did it was already too late. The head lights of the approaching car grew bigger. There was a huge CRASH. Everything hurt. Everything was dark. A baby seat thrown across the road, surrounded by pieces of metal and crushed, white lilies. A name escaped her lips, barely audible. Emma. Uncle Vernon lay motionless against the window, and Dudley-

A shower of sparks filled Harry’s vision as Aunt Petunia’s memories of the night of the accident shattered into pieces around them. Aunt Petunia was on the floor before him, grabbing her head and screeching in agony. Sounding awfully lot like the owls hunting her window.

It took Harry way too long to realise what was going on. “No, wait, wait…” he said hurriedly, grabbing his aunt by the shoulders and forcing her to face him. “Aunt Petunia, listen to me. You got it all wrong! Dudley and Uncle Vernon are both okay. They are all okay. They are alive and well and they are out there waiting for you!”

Chapter Text

There were many things in Harry’s life he did not wish to repeat, and although being spellbound in Aunt Petunia’s head didn’t take the cake, it was definitely somewhere on that long, long list. Mind spells were not his thing. And he definitely did not want any more contact like that with his aunt. 

Neither did he want Doctor Brown anywhere near his head again, thank you very much.

“Don’t be  a child and drink your tea”, the doctor in question berated him mildly, not sounding too offended.

They were in his office, filling up paperwork of all things.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t like anyone inside my head”, Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead. He was irritated and feeling the beginnings of a headache. Wonderful. The tea in his disposable little paper cup was still hot and nice but he didn’t feel like drinking it, so he tried to put it away.

Doctor Brown, who up to that point had barely even spared him a glance, then gave him a stern look that would have made Professor McGonagall herself proud. Harry silently took the cup back between his fingers and proceeded to take a long sip under the doctor’s stare.

Surely the doctor couldn’t be that much older than him, yet Harry still felt like one 12-years-old-Albus getting an earful from Ginny after he’d tried – and failed – to nail James’ door shut the night before their departure for Hogwarts.

“Do you know what I think, Mr. Potter?”

Harry, who was actually thinking he maybe might  have burned his tongue just now, asked: “About what?”

“About your situation with the Dursleys.”

“There is no situation. I don’t intend to stay here much longer.”

He was already preparing to leave, as it was. He just needed to talk to Dudley for a bit, and Ella and Emma. Maybe say a proper goodbye and then be on his way.

“Be that as it may”, Doctor Brown said, “you might want to check on your aunt before you leave.”

Harry was a little taken aback at the suggestion thrown in his way. “But she’s okay now”, he pointed out. “ She woke up when I got out and we exchanged a quick word.”  

And then Uncle Vernon had rushed in with Dudley and all hell broke loose. Quite literally. Harry hadn’t heard his cousin howl like that since Aunt Petunia’s horrible Grapefruit Movement during the summer of 1994. Uncle Vernon being loud wasn’t anything new either, but even he managed to one up on volume in ways Harry hadn’t thought possible.

Doctor Brown leaned back on his chair and sighed, looking almost troubled. “I’m conflicted”, he admitted, scratching at the back of his head with his wand.  Which was… not dangerous at all. “Usually, I wouldn’t even say anything. Doctor-patient-confidentiality, you see – especially since I shouldn’t have this information in the first place.” He shook his head, getting irritated at his own words. ”I don’t even want to start on the laws concerning legilimency and its users – especially ones like me… the paperwork, the terms, the annual and monthly reports, like it’s not the same if you don’t do it on purpose with proper instruments… they can get very bitchy about that, whether you count yourself among the wizard- folk or not, but I do think… I do think she has something important she wants to tell you, Mr. Potter. Something you need to know. “

“Uh, like what?”

Harry was more than confused now, wondering who they were and what they had to do with his aunt.

And also...

Was something burning?

Doctor Brown shrugged. “Not for me to tell”, he said. “She might not say anything at all, even if you do decide to go and see her. She is quite terrified…”  He fell silent and frowned. “I don’t think I should have said that either.”

“… Doctor, your hair…”

“What about my- oh, blimey!”

Harry stared as the renowned doctor hurried to put out the happy little fire dancing on the top of his head.

Is this guy for real?

“You’re being terribly rude, Mr. Potter.”

Chapter Text

”I thought you already left.”

Aunt Petunia’s words hit him hard, there was no denying that. Harry and Petunia Dursley didn’t have much in common, but they both were very well aware of what their relationship was and how it worked. According to that mutual understanding, Harry had no reason to even be in the building anymore.

And yet, here he was.

“I was about to”, Harry readily admitted with a shrug of a shoulder. “But I didn’t. I’m here now so…” the end of the sentence was left hanging awkwardly between them. Aunt Petunia, still bed-ridden but getting better, looked tired but weirdly determined. Like she really had something to tell him, like Doctor Brown had suggested.

“He told you, didn’t he?” she asked, staring at him.

Harry blinked. “What, Doctor Brown?” What surprised him the most was the fact that she knew that Doctor Brown knew anything. “Yeah, more or less.”

“He is… like you, isn’t he?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, answering with caution: “He is”, he said slowly. “More or less.”

Aunt Petunia nodded, staring at the ceiling. “I could hear him… in my head. He was very… kind.”

Honestly, Harry had nothing to say to that. His understanding of the great doctor’s character clearly differed from hers, not only because he knew who the guy hung out with. Add to that the fact that he’d been kind of a jerk – to Harry at least.

“I wanted to talk to you about Emma”, Aunt Petunia said, getting straight to the point.  “She’s like you, too.”

The hell did she mean by… oh.

Oh.

“You… how do you…”

Aunt Petunia actually chuckled at him, though there was no real joy to be detected in her voice whatsoever. “She is like you”, she repeated. “She has magic. I’ve seen the signs. I saw them with Lily, all those strange things she would do without meaning to, the things that happened to her… I saw them again with you when you were growing up.”

When Harry didn’t say anything – when he was literally too shocked to say anything – she continued like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb the size of a magical Dursley baby in the middle of their otherwise quite civil conversation. “Dudley doesn’t know, at least not yet. I don’t think Vernon does either. He can be very stubborn when it comes to these things. But I’ve seen Emma do things that can’t be explained away, the exact same things you and Lily both did.”

“You knew I had magic”, it was a statement, not a question. Of course, he’d already known that, but he’d thought they’d only suspected… something. That they hadn’t truly known before his eleventh birthday.

With Harry’s half-hearted help – half-hearted not because his heart wasn’t all in it but mainly because he caught on a tad too late on the fact that his help was needed at all – Aunt Petunia  sat up to get a sip of water.

“I always suspected”, she admitted after settling down again. “Like I told you back then. The way Lily and… your father were, it was no surprise to me that you were like that too. There were all those weird things when you grew up that made Vernon so mad, but even before then, the spiders pretty much gave it away.”

“The… spiders?”

Aunt Petunia nailed Harry with a look. “Who do you think cleaned your closet?”

 No remorse there to be detected about The Closet at all.

 Noted.

 “I must have vacuumed thousands of spiders from there during the years, but they always came back. Always. No matter what I tried, they always came back. I sometimes thought they did that just to spite me. And then  when we moved you to the second bedroom upstairs and you started school...” Aunt Petunia rubbed the side of her face thoughtfully, but stopped quickly, acting like the feel of her own skin against her fingers was disturbing her.

“They just… went away”, she said, staring at her fingers. “Just like that. Like they knew you didn’t need them anymore.  That’s when I knew for sure that I’d been right to suspect they were there because of you.”

Harry was silently fuming inside.

He had long since decided to leave the Dursley part of his life behind him, but the way his aunt went about things really pissed him off. Among other things. Tossing little titbits of information at him without a care in the world.  Information about Harry himself, information about Harry that she alone knew but had never shared.

But.

This really wasn’t about him.

“Right. Um… are you absolutely sure about Emma?”

“Yes.”

“Are the spiders a problem with her too?” He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop trying to needle her with his words.

 Aunt Petunia shook her head slowly, not rising up to the challenge. “She can make the goldfish dance”, she said. “I didn’t believe it at first. Like Ella, I thought there was something wrong with the fishes themselves, but… it was Emma.”

“Okay. And you want me to-“

“I only need to ask you something, Harry.” Aunt Petunia said quickly, not sounding mean exactly – more like she really, really didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “I don’t want anything. I just need to know one thing.” Her eyes were sharp, voice demanding. “Is she going to be safe, Harry? Is Emma going to be safe?”

Safe?

“As in… is she going to be safe in the wizarding world?” Harry asked, rubbing at his forehead. Aunt Petunia’s eyes had travelled there more than once during their conversation. He knew what she was thinking.

“Your world has already taken my sister”, Aunt Petunia said, not backing down. “Your mother. And your father. And countless others, from what I understand. Even Dudley had an encounter with that horrible Dementor-thing back when you were kids and he had never even touched a wand! “

“What about your world, then?” Harry snapped back. “It doesn’t take magic to get caught in a car accident, now does it?”

Aunt Petunia didn’t even flinch. “ Accidents do happen. Like two Dementors on Little Whining, right? But was the pig’s tail an accident? Or that candy that almost killed Dudley?”

“That was not-“

“It’s not the same thing? However horrible Dudley was to you back when you were little, you can’t honestly suggest he deserved any of those things. He was a child. A child.”

Aunt Petunia was clenching her fists again but not, Harry thought, out of anger, but fear. An honest to god fear.

There was no point telling her he had been a child too, that he had gone through things the Dursley’s couldn’t even dream of. Horrible, unspeakable things that still woke him up at night, even without the phantom ache of a scar that lay dormant on his forehead, a mere memory of bad times and old nightmares.

A younger, angrier Harry would not have understood, but Harry was a father now, he could understand, he could relate and he could sympathize. Even with someone like Petunia Dursley.

So, he did the best thing he could think of in a situation like that. In a situation where he wasn’t 100 % sure of the answer. Where there were too many variables, too many uncertainties. And a… problem, concerning the Dursleys specifically. So, he lied. “Nothing’s going to happen to her.” He quietly said. “I promise.”

When he exited the hospital and filled his lungs with the crispy night air, it tasted fowl to him. He was worried, to say the least. And confused. And still a bit angry. But mostly worried. Dudley caught up with him before he’d managed to get his head straight and “disappear” around the nearest corner.

“Hey, are you leaving already?”

“Yeah, I… I need to go home.” Harry looked at his smiling cousin wearily. “I’m expected.”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I just wanted to thank you once more, and, and say goodbye, I guess.” The way Dudley stammered reminded Harry of the last time they’d said their goodbyes.

“Look, can I hug you?”

Dudley, without waiting an answer, did just so and crushed Harry between his two massive arms so tightly he thought his ribs would give in that very second.

“Okay, now I’m sure of it”, Harry managed to squeeze out, patting his cousins back. “You must be some sort of changeling.”

Dudley laughed and released him. “Yeah, no. It’s still just me. And now, I’m going to tell you something that you probably didn’t expect to hear from me either, but I’ve missed you, cousin. I really have.”

Harry was strangely sort of touched and weirded out at the same time. “I think it’s fatherhood that’s making you all weird”, he grinned. “Makes you think of family, doesn’t it?”

“Heh, yeah… yeah, I guess so.”

They separated a bit to let a young woman pushing a squeaky wheelchair pass between them. He turned to Dudley again, fished a card out of his pockets and offered to him. “I really need to be going now, but hey, this is my number. I know you know how to use it.”

“And here  I thought I’d get to use owl post again.”

“Okay, stop it. You’re freaking me out.”