RELATIONS

Chapter V

Wednesday, July 3, 1996

"Answer the door, Boy! And send who ever it is away!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said in a dispirited voice.

"Then get out and work on that garden!"

"Alright," Harry grumbled. Before he had left Hogwarts, Dumbledore had called him to his office yet again. Harry wasn't certain how he felt about the Headmaster since the events at the Ministry and the morning afterwards, especially when he was reminded he would have to go to Privet Drive. With the protection he had there, and Sirius dead, where else could he go? Dumbledore promised him he would get an answer to questions like that within two weeks. That meant sometime later that week, he would have some more answers and, almost equally as important, would learn when he could leave Privet Drive. Until then, he had to put up with his relatives.

He pulled open the door, and stared. He knew this man. He knew every face in the photos of his parents, and here was a face from several group shots, including his parents' wedding and the group scene of his parents showing off himself as a new-born. Although the man was dressed as a Muggle, in an expensive blazer and slacks rather than robes, and was very tan and of course much older, there was no mistaking him. Even to Harry's eyes, the only clue the man was a wizard was the dragon-hide combat boots.

'One of these days, I really have got to sit down with Hagrid and get him to tell me who all those people are,' Harry thought. 'People from my parents' past are always popping up.' Hope swelled in his mind, that this might be the wizard who would fulfill the Headmaster's promises, but Harry quashed it. More likely, he either had some message that more explanations would be delayed yet again or was just a member of the Order checking up on him. The man would then no doubt launch into a spiel about how much Harry looked like his father.

"Do you recognize me, Harry?" The strong baritone voice matched the powerful body.

"You're in . . . some photos with my parents?"

"Very good. Are Petunia or Dudley here?"

"My aunt is, Dudley just went out. Who exactly are you?"

The man sighed. "That will be complicated."

"Who is it?" Petunia demanded, coming into the entrance foyer. She stared out the door for a moment, her jaw dropping open.

"Hello, Petunia," the man said in a not-so-nice voice -- Harry thought the man, who had sounded rather friendly a moment before, now sounded like the movie character Hannibal Lecter. "I told you I'd likely be allowed to come back this summer."

From the look on her face, Petunia apparently thought he sounded dangerous as well. She said nothing, but swallowed nervously several times. Harry stood back, and looked on, fascinated.

"What, nothing to say to the man who paid off your mortgage? Although I've learned you've had to take out a new one. What have you been spending the money on? It certainly hasn't been food or clothes for Harry." The man strode in, and Harry shut the door while still staring in amazement.

"It wasn't on Harry's education either, because I paid all the few costs of his primary school, and all the costs for Hogwarts except for Harry's supplies." Harry's eyes flew open in surprise. He'd thought the money for Hogwarts was simply taken out of his vault somehow, and the Dursleys had claimed to have had to pay for his school fees before that. "I am very disappointed in how you and Vernon have treated your nephew; our relative deserves better than that!" Harry was now nearly in shock. He should have realized, from the hair, if nothing else (even if it was light brown), that his father must have had either a younger brother or other male relative of some sort. Then Harry remembered that in the photos, the hair was black.

Harry kicked himself mentally for not asking Hagrid about those photos yet again.

"Get out of this house!" Petunia hissed.

"No."

"Get out, or I'll call the police!" she shrilled.

"And tell them what? That your nephew's paternal first cousin, who has been paying for his support, is here to check to see how well you've taken care of him? Oh, that will play really well with your neighbors, especially if they find out about the mortgages."

Harry was torn. Being surprised by having a new relative was more upsetting than anything else -- it raised a number of questions as well -- but this man certainly had Aunt Petunia figured out. Harry realized he should have been angry, but he wasn't. In part, it was because it was satisfying to see Petunia taken down a few notches.

Petunia had been abashed for a moment, but tried fighting back. "This isn't your house! Get out!"

"Really? You didn't agree to the bank's selling your mortgage nearly three years ago to a financial investment company, when you learned they would charge one per cent less interest? You did, you know, and the holding company is owned by the Potter Trust. In short, Petunia, Harry and I do own this house. Three payments have been late, and last month's payment hasn't been received, let alone this one. If we don't have both payments cleared by Two o'clock, we might just foreclose. And I know you won't have enough money to pay either until Friday."

Petunia was about to explode screaming, until she froze.

"Petrified?" Harry asked, merely curious.

"Yes. She can hear everything, but can't say anything; very awkward for her." The man grinned. "Even more so than most people."

Harry nearly returned the grin, but fought it. "So, you're my cousin?" The skepticism was overt, although Harry remembered what Sirius had said about old wizarding families being related. He knew he must have some cousins somewhere, but none had seemed interested in making themselves known before.

"Edward Harold Potter."

"Really?"

"Really. My grandfathers were named Edward and Harold -- Harold is the most popular name in the Potter family. Your father had an older brother, who died a few weeks after he was born named Harold. I also had an older brother Harold who was James' age, who . . . died young. James was James Harold. James was going to name you Harold James, but Lily thought it sounded too stuffy, and there was a Muggle musician from the late Nineteen Thirties that she liked called Harry James as well." Edward Potter took a half-step towards the sitting room. "I need to explain a number of things to you, of course, and then you have to decide what you want to do about them."

"I decide?" Harry was obviously surprised.

"You decide." He levitated Petunia ahead of them, and then moved into the front room. "First of all, I was called Ted or Edward by everyone until I left Britain, except the Marauders and my parents; since then most people have called me Ed or Edward."

"What did they call you?"

Edward nearly grimaced, "The Marauders called me Master Edward, because Sirius Black could be a real pain in the arse at times. My parents called me Teddy. I'd prefer Ted."

"Alright . . . Ted. Talk."

"You want to know where I've been and why I didn't take care of you, while you were stuck here, right?"

"Sounds like a good place to start, anyway." Harry sat on the sofa, crossed his arms, and stared as only a teen can.

"Your father was born in Fifty-eight; I was born in Sixty-four. I was in my last year at Hogwarts when they were killed. Sirius was supposed to be your guardian, since I hadn't graduated yet. Petunia was the least preferred of the original sixteen choices. . . ."

"Sixteen!"

Edward nodded. "However, eight of the sixteen had already been killed by Death Eaters -- all the rest of the Potter clan was wiped out in the massacre in August of Nineteen Seventy-eight, of course. James was taking me on a walking tour around Britain and we were a hour late, and so survived. We thought Pettigrew was dead, too." Harry shuddered a little at the idea of Peter Pettigrew raising him -- there were worse alternatives to Aunt Petunia. "Sirius, of course, was framed for his murder. Remus and I thought that possible, but just couldn't believe Peter had the brains or the power to pull it off."

"So you didn't help him?" Harry was shocked.

"What could we have done against the Ministry with no evidence, even if we'd been sure? -- which we weren't. Anyway, Remus, their original fourth choice, was disallowed by the Ministry, and while I was the first choice, that would have only after I left Hogwarts. Dumbledore was on the list, and he talked the other ones still living into giving you over to Petunia." He turned and sneered at Petunia.

"At the time, I totally disagreed with him. He knew that you and I would always be targets of the Death Eaters, like the rest of the Potters. . . ."

"Why?"

"I promise I'll tell you, Harry, before I leave today. But let me tell it my way, okay?"

Harry agreed, reluctantly.

"In fact, the summer after I left Hogwarts, there were two attempts on my life. That's also when the Longbottoms were attacked . . . do you know about that?" Edward remembered that the Longbottom boy was in Harry's dorm.

Harry nodded. He thought he understood where this was going.

"I decided Dumbledore was right, and a bad a parent as Petunia obviously was and is, under her care at least you wouldn't be killed. There was a better chance we would be hunted down together than if we were apart. I changed my name by dropping the 'Potter' and went to America, where I worked on magical and Muggle credentials." Edward smiled and turned to face Petunia. "Hey, Petunia! I have a PhD and am received in the highest Muggle social and intellectual circles of the United States, Britain, and the rest of Europe! Did you catch that BBC special I was in three years ago?"

He turned back to Harry. "I really am a well-known Muggle archeologist and Egyptologist, although I'm much more famous in the magical world now, under the name of Edward Harold."

"Hermione has some book by you; she was raving about it one week a few years ago. Something about how it was a more complete version than the Muggle one?"

"That's what I have been most famous for, until a few days from now. Girl friend?"

"One of my best friends, but not my girlfriend," Harry said firmly.

'Hagrid was right about that, at least,' Edward thought. "Sorry, vulgar curiosity. Anyway, I think that explains why I was missing, or at least what I was doing, during your nearly ten-year incarceration here. Dumbledore kept the magical community away, and Petunia and Vernon made it clear I was to stay away, too." He again turned to Petunia. "You tried to renege on the deal to send Harry to Hogwarts, though, didn't you? That's another thing I'll discuss with you and Vernon later," he almost snarled. Harry was rather startled at how the man could be so friendly and nice to him, while so angry and stern with Petunia without any seeming break. While not as abrupt as Sirius' changes had been at times, they were still startling.

He turned back to Harry. "Now, in my last year at Hogwarts, Dumbledore and I had some severe, if polite, disagreements. I resigned as Head Boy and captain of the Quidditch team. . . ."

"What!"

"Surprised I'd give up Head Boy or Quidditch?"

"You quit the team, too!"

'Well, that answers that question!' Edward thought. "I was learning how fickle popularity at school could be. It seemed as if a third of the people already hated me. . . ."

"Slytherins?"

Edward smiled a little. "Mostly. There are some good people in Slytherin, but most only show it after they leave school. Anyway, another third seemed to prefer remembering how close I was to Sirius, and gossiped that I had helped him find and kill James and then tried to kill you for the family money. I was mad at them, Dumbledore, and the world. I quit everything except school work, and learned that most of the remaining third had little use for me, either." He smiled a little again, remembering one little First year girl who had stayed nice. "I was determined to become a Warlock. I made it, too. I'm both a Sorcerer and a Warlock, but only gained the titles when my outlook became a bit more . . . balanced."

"Anyway, I guess I needled Dumbledore one too many times. He forbade me to see you until you were seventeen. We finally reached a compromise by agreeing I could meet with him over the matter yesterday."

"But that was. . . ."

"An appointment made fourteen years ago. I actually talked with him and Remus several times during your Third year. I didn't know what Sirius was up to, but I couldn't believe he was trying to kill you. I'm glad I was right."

"And two years ago?" Harry demanded. "And last June? AND LAST MONTH?"

Edward turned away for a second. Although his face was lowered when he turned back, Harry could see tears were nearly falling. "I was made an offer I couldn't refuse, in part because we all thought your Fourth year would be calm." Harry snorted at that. "Yes, I know -- we were wrong. And I was wrong; it wasn't that I just took Dumbledore's outlook. I agreed with it. I was wrong." Harry saw the man was obviously very angry with himself, and was wiping away some genuine tears.

"Anyways, a very large, very ancient, hidden area was located in what today is called Chad. Teams had been trying to get in for decades, and we finally found a way. To get in, we had to go in on an equinox, and we could only leave on a solstice. No word could be easily sent in or out. We left in September, Nineteen ninety-four, and were supposed to come back in June of Ninety-five. It was so important and interesting, I was the only one willing to leave, and the others talked me into staying. In December of Ninety-five, the same thing happened, but I got them to all agree to leave the following June, that is two weeks ago. By then, I was suspicious of three or four of my colleagues. Sure enough, three tried to stop us from going again, but I had proof they were trying to sabotage me, not support the project. If I'd heard about that entry in the Triwizard, I would have come back in June of Ninety-five, honestly, even though I made some discoveries that will make me famous, and made some other that are highly important, and secret."

Edward leaned back in the chair he'd sat in, his eyes still red. "I imagine you want, even need, to partition blame for why you had to suffer here. Well, most goes to Voldemort, of course. Next would be Wormtail, then Dumbledore. After that, either Petunia or me. After us, Vernon. I could probably have fought Dumbledore harder once you were in school. No, strike that; I should have fought harder once you were in school, and I didn't. I was wrong. Of course, Petunia could have mentioned me; she knew me and I know Dumbledore wouldn't have told her not to mention me. Try not to blame Remus, Sirius, or Hagrid too much. I know Sirius and especially Remus each had more than one fight with Dumbledore on the subject, and so did Flitwick. Hagrid hero-worships Dumbledore more than anyone else; he wouldn't tell you, not directly, anyway."

Edward got a stern look on his face. "Of course indirectly . . . you did recognize me from that photo album Hagrid put together, right?"

Harry could only nod.

"Well, more than half of those photos came from myself and Remus. I know I was in more than a few -- never asked anyone who I was, did you?"

"No," Harry said in a small voice.

"Dumbledore told the staff at Hogwarts that no one was to tell you about me, but that if you ever asked, they were to direct you to him and he would tell you. So, it's mostly a lot of other people's fault, but if you really had wanted to know about your father's family, you could have found out -- we're in any number of reference books, you know." Harry blushed, remembering how many times Hermione had tried to get him to look at those reference books. "Never looked at the plaque that goes with the Quidditch Cup, did you?" Edward went on.

"Of course I did! My dad's name's on it as captain. . . ."

"That's right, Nineteen seventy-five and Seventy-six. And mine's there for Eighty-one, at least -- I doubt they put in on for Eight-two, even if we and Hufflepuff tied for the Cup and I captained the team for the first game. Edward H. Potter. It's on the little bronze plaques of the team Quidditch players in the Gryffindor stairway, too. And I wouldn't be surprised if they erased my name from the Head Boy's list, but it might be there. Now, I'm not saying all this to make you feel bad or stupid, but you can't rely on people giving you information before they think you need it if you don't ask for it and look for it."

Harry flushed.

"Of course, you still have every right to be upset, and even angry, about this situation, Harry," the man continued, "and that includes being angry with me. But before we get into that, and your questions, let's talk protection. I'm sure you've figured out by now why you're stuck here at the Dursley's every summer?"

Harry reluctantly answered, "Because my mum died for me, that gave me some sort of protection."

"Right, it gave you several layers of protection. When Voldemort was resurrected using your blood, that canceled some, but left others intact. In short, until you're over eighteen, you cannot be harmed while you live with Petunia. And, while you live here, your enemies can't hurt the Dursleys, either."

"Really?" Harry hadn't been certain of the latter.

"Really. And because you work around the house, it quickens the protection. If you were to, say, paint the outside trim of the house, we might be able to pull you out in a few weeks and still leave the Dursleys protected. As nasty as this bunch are, I doubt you want to see Dudley and Vernon tortured and killed."

"No, I don't! I hate seeing anyone . . . hurt." Harry thought a moment. "What about her?" He gestured toward Petunia.

"Oh, they'd torture and kill Vernon and Dudley for fun. Petunia they would just torture, and then try to lure you out to protect her. Then they'd kill her."

"Oh," Harry said, again in a very small voice.

Edward stood up and walked over to the still-petrified Petunia. "Now, you should have heard all that. As you know, some truly evil people are after Harry, and you're his protection, and he is yours. If Harry stays a little longer this summer, and a short part of next summer, and can come back to spend his other vacations if he needs to, he's protected here and you're protected while he's gone. Behave yourselves, and you should get out of all this not only alive, but never really even seeing the effects of a war you need not know about. And, on top of that, on Harry's eighteenth birthday, if you three have behaved yourselves, we'll pay off your mortgage -- again. But don't expect it a third time. Understand?" Edward pulled out his wand and muttered the counter-curse.

Petunia gave a squeak, and then sat on the floor.

"Did you understand all that, Petunia?" Edward asked, fairly gently.

"I understand, Ted," she muttered.

"Harry and I will be up in his room, talking. We might like a good lunch in about two hours. Harry needs feeding up, and I'm hungry, too. All right?"

Petunia stared at him, resentful but, Harry noted, not hatefully. She even took Edward's hand when he offered to help her up. "Oh, by the way, here," Edward said, handing her an envelope.

"What's this?"

"A hundred pounds, towards expenses. I might be here for any number of meals this month, and while I expect you to feed and house Harry, I don't expect you to feed me for free."

"Thank you," she said quietly. Petunia finally looked him in the eye. "You'll be here to talk to Vernon?"

"Of course. I'm sorry you got dragged into what turned out to be a dangerous situation. And no, I won't hurt Vernon, unless he's stupid enough to take a swing at me or Harry."

"Thank you," she repeated, and left the room.

"Let's go talk in your room, Harry. We can get more detailed there, and I can try to answer your questions."

"You have a lot more stuff than I thought they'd have given you," Edward remarked.

"This is all Dudley's surplus, not mine," Harry said resentfully.

"Ah, sorry."

"I'm surprised I haven't gotten an owl, blaming me for your hexes," Harry muttered.

"They know that I, or at least Edward Harold, is here. And I doubt anyone at the Ministry wants to tangle with you right now."

"Well, that's good. I don't need any more problems."

"How angry are you right now?"

Harry sat on his bed and thought. He really should be angry, but he wasn't. "I guess I'm not really angry," Harry admitted, honest as he usually was. "I probably should be, but at least you admitted that you were wrong, or at least partly wrong. Dumbledore and Ministry officials and people like that keep telling me they're acting for my own good, but they never really tell me why it's for my own good!"

"Dumbledore does play things too close to his chest. He is brilliant, but that doesn't mean he's always right."

"You paid for Hogwarts?"

"There's a Trust that could easily support two dozen people in lives of workless luxury. However, it only pays a half share to adult witches until their marriage and to adult wizards, and right now I'm the only person eligible. Why make you take money out of James' old current account when I have plenty?"

"That's not all the money I have?"

"It's all the money you have until you're seventeen."

"Wow." Harry thought a moment. "If I paint the trim I can leave?"

"Before your birthday if you do some of the other chores I understand they impose on you; I won't swear as to how much before."

"Where would I go?"

"Two, maybe three, choices that I know of -- Remus' is now a real possibility. Your great great grandparents' places are still there -- I inherited my father's father's rather large estate, the Potter family estate, in fact. My father was older than James', although he married later. Remus lives in a small cabin that's technically on the estate, but it's outside the most powerful wards -- Potter Place is one of the dozen most secure private wizarding homes in the world and has been for over 900 years. My great grandmother's parents' place was Godric's Hollow, by the way. My grandparents both died a few years before James married, and Lily liked it a lot more than Potter Place, which is another reason I inherited Potter Place, although James had, and you have, some rights there."

"Anyway, the house in Godric's Hollow was rebuilt, and belongs totally to you, although the Trust is renting it out. That money has been placed in your current account vault every month, along with the interest." He shrugged. "Anyway, I'll be at home after you leave here. We'd like it if you came there, too. It might technically belong to me, but it's your heritage as well."

Harry gave up trying to keep the generations straight. "And the third?"

"The Weasleys, if they would host you."

"Sounds good to me."

"If that's what you really want to do, then I'll help you. However, your friends would be welcome at my, our, place. You can spend part of the time with Remus, if Dumbledore doesn't have him out on missions."

"And if you go on one?" Harry demanded.

"I'm not planning on going anywhere, Harry. How close I am to you is up to you, but I'll be there for you if I can. If I'm not, then Remus will be. In fact, I just signed a three year contract to teach Runes at Hogwarts and Remus will likely come back as the Defense teacher. It's mostly up to you if I'm there as Edward Harold or Edward Potter."

"Why do I get to decide?" Harry wasn't sure how to deal with this much honesty from an adult.

"Because I've been out of your life for as long as you as remember. I can't just show up and force myself intimately into your life. You're stuck with me in the periphery of your life, somewhat closer than I imagine Petunia will be, but that's as far as I can make you go. And, as Dumbledore often reminded me, even though James and I thought of each other as brothers, we weren't. I'm not your uncle, I'm your first cousin once removed. I can't take over your life."

'Why couldn't the others treat me with this much respect?' Harry wondered. "Can I ask more questions?"

Edward looked at his watch. "It's still only a little after Ten. Why don't we go clothes shopping for you. If you want, we can eat in the village and let Petunia off of fixing us lunch if she hasn't started and get her started on dinner instead."

Harry grinned. "Cool." He was glad his cousin hadn't remarked on his poorly fitting clothes, although Harry hadn't missed his look of disapproval.

Harry enjoyed riding into the center of the small town, since his cousin had a small vintage Astin Martin convertible. It also turned out he had both his own and Sirius' motorcycles back on the estate.

Harry kept his purchases reasonable, buying six pairs of slacks and jeans, trainers, and two dozen shirts of various types. Edward had also insisted he buy one blazer and a tie. Harry also bought a small supply of Muggle writing paper -- he'd noticed that while the supplies sold in the magical world were of much higher quality, they were also of much higher price. It just didn't seem right to use high quality parchment as scratch paper.

"Do you think Aunt Petunia can really be trusted?" Harry asked as they packed away his purchases in the car's small boot.

"Probably, since she now knows we can take away the house and has enough knowledge of the situation to appreciate it. I'm less sure how Vernon will react. Of course, over the years, I met Petunia a few more times than Vernon, and heard James and especially Lily talk about her. You know her better than I do; I take it you're concerned?"

"A little. I . . . I guess I have no reason to trust them." Harry frowned as they started walking towards a small but expensive restaurant that Harry knew had booted the Dursleys out of two years before because of Dudley's fussing. Harry was now wearing new clothes, including the blazer and tie, and felt he should be able to fit in. "Couldn't they just borrow the money, or are they really strapped?"

"While the Dursleys don't live too extravagantly, they don't stint themselves, either. Dudley's school is quite an expense, although not totally out of their financial realm. That second mortgage should have taken care of everything, except that silly drill business isn't doing very well. Give Vernon his due, it would have gone under a few years ago if it weren't for him. Still, it's not making that much money. Vernon sunk their credit into buying further into the company. He now owns about thirty-six percent, more than any other person or group."

Harry wondered for a moment why Edward knew so much about Vernon's finances. "Do we own any?" he then asked.

Edward smiled. Harry was smart. "Fifteen percent. Anyway, Vernon would either have to give up on the house, give up on Dudley's school, or give up his share of the business. If he gives up the first two, he loses status; if he gives up the third, there's a good chance the company would go under and he'd lose his job. Anyways, he always struck me as the type to keep bulling his way through, until the walls collapse around him."

"That's him."

"Well, between the mortgage and offering him proxy rights over our share of his business, especially with you going away in a few weeks, and likely only coming back for a few weeks next summer, plus the fact that he knows I'll skin him alive and turn it into a vest if he hurts you, I think he'll come around."

"Is that what you threatened him with?"

"Yes. I meant it, at the time. Tell me about growing up there, if you don't mind."

"Why?"

Edward's expression darkened. "I knew it wouldn't be very good; I gather it was downright bad. If it was, I'm the person to take it out of them."

Harry thought about it. "Alright. We can trade stories. Tell me about some of your archeological finds."

"Deal."

They made it back, arms laden, around 3:30. Dudley took one look at the happy Harry and his muscular relative, and fled to his room, locking the door.

Edward gave Petunia a cheery greeting, and went up with Harry to the smallest bedroom.

"Why doesn't Petunia hate you?" Harry asked. "Considering her general . . . opinion of wizards, and my parents, she should really be showing . . . more hate, or at least be more angry."

"Of the dozen or so witches and wizards Lily brought home over the years that I know of, probably only Remus and I treated Petunia as a person with feelings. James was never mean to her, but he always laughed when Sirius played jokes on her or her and Vernon, and he played some nasty ones on them. The other girls were pretty snotty to her, I must say. Wormtail wasn't mean to her, but of course was always sucking up to the others. Your mum was never mean to her either, but, like any sibling, wasn't above some petty behavior. And to Petunia, your mum was the pretty, smart, younger sister stealing her parents' affection long before Lily found out about magic. To make things worse, it turned out both sets of Lily's grandparents were squibs or near-squibs, and they were ecstatic that Lily turned out not just magical, but bright and talented, too. Her parents were even more ecstatic that one of their daughters could join the world they'd heard about but could have no real part in."

"That explains a lot! If she wasn't so mean to me, I'd feel sorry for her."

"At least you understand her better."

"I guess." Harry looked at his cousin. "Can I ask you something about my father?"

"Of course!"

"I saw . . . I saw, in a pensieve, how he treated Snape. . . ."

Edward laughed. "God, those two hated each other from the time they met on the Hogwarts Express! Snape and Sirius were cousins, and they hated each other since they were in the same crib together -- there used to be a photo of the two pulling each other's hair when they were about a year old! They were only two weeks apart in age."

"Anyway, back to the train, as told by Remus, so you know it's fairly reliable. Snake was with a bunch of older Slytherins, harassing some young Muggle-borns, and trying to get Sirius to join in with their bigotry. Snake became the leader of the Muggle-haters in his year, and James and Harold wouldn't stand for it. Sirius didn't care much for Muggles at the time, but he was already tired of his family. James really helped bring Sirius out of his family's shadow."

"Really?" Harry paused. "Snake? Not Snivellus?"

"We called him Snake; only Sirius and James dared call him Snivellus." Edward thought a moment. "Was this memory from their Fifth or Sixth year?"

"Fifth; during their O.W.L.s. Why?"

"Most of the nastier Slytherins of the period were two to four years ahead of them; Malfoy, Lestrange, Nott, Macnair, Bellatrix Black, people like that, or a few years behind them, like Sirius' brother. As Snape became slightly more isolated, the Marauders really upped their attacks. The end of their Fifth years until Sirius nearly got Snape killed in their Sixth, they really made Snape's life a living hell."

Edward looked into Harry's eyes. "If Snape told you anything, remember that they hated each other, and that the Snake gave the Marauders and others as much grief as they gave him, except for those few months. James and Sirius weren't saints by any means, and for all I know they went over the line, but don't think the man a wounded innocent -- coming from his family, he didn't have much of a chance."

"Sirius came from a nasty family, too," Harry reminded his cousin.

"Nasty? Sirius' mother was about the nastiest, most evil woman I've ever met! But she wasn't a Black, she was Snape's mother's twin sister."

"Really? I didn't see any Snapes on that tapestry. . . ."

"Never saw it myself; you'll have to tell me how you saw it some time." Harry paled. Had he revealed something he shouldn't have?"

"I know you were at Sirius' house a few times, and yes, I'm now a member of the Order," Edward assured him. "I just figured Sirius would have burned it off the wall if they couldn't tear it down."

"Does the Order still meet there?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore arranged for Tonks to inherit it," Edward said. "Anyway, the Blacks were nasty, the Snapes and some associated families, like the Malfoys, Notts, Macnairs, Goyles, and Lestranges, are downright evil! The two sisters were Lestranges, by the way."

Edward thought a moment. "Considering his background, I guess Snake turned out almost decent."

"He helped get Sirius killed!"

Edward looked at Harry. "Did he really?"

Harry opened his mouth to spell out the damage, but couldn't. Snape had stopped his lessons, but he'd been almost as much at fault. Snape had insulted and taunted Sirius, but Dumbledore had confined him. Kreacher had manipulated Harry and Sirius both.

"Yes," he said, "but I guess there's plenty of blame to go around for that." Harry looked at his cousin and decided to change the subject. "Are you going to explain why Voldemort is after me now?"

"I thought Dumbledore told you about the Prophecy?" Edward knew Harry would need to talk about Sirius, but it obviously wasn't time yet.

"He did," Harry agreed. "I think you're going to give me a better explanation about why Voldemort decided I was the one it meant."

"Alright." Edward sat in the desk chair and leaned back. "The short version. In magical families, heirs are counted in several different ways. The first is by magical blood and gender. The magical son of a powerful wizard in a primary heir, a magical daughter is a secondary heir. If it's a powerful witch, then the opposite is true. Both are magical heirs. A break in the gender line also turns a primary into a secondary. If a squib is born to a witch and wizard, but then has magical descendants, that's a general heir. Now, as I'm told you know, Tom Riddle. . . ."

"Voldemort is the last heir of Slytherin."

"He's the last known secondary magical heir of Slytherin's second marriage, which for the purposes of Dark magic is the one that matters," Edward amended. "There are no primary heirs of either marriage left. There are numerous general heirs, thousands in fact, including the Evans', by the way. And the Potters are. . . ?"

"Heirs of Gryffindor?"

"Very good. We're the last known primary heirs of Gryffindor, heirs of the seventh son of his seventh son, named, believe it or not, Harold the Potterer."

Harry stared, and then burst out laughing. When he recovered, he said, "That explains a lot." He paused. "Why couldn't Dumbledore just tell me that part at the end of my first year? Or at least after the second?"

"Because he thought that responsibility would a little over-whelming to a twelve or even thirteen year old. It wasn't a real secret, but it isn't really generally known. Dumbledore planned from the beginning on telling you everything at Christmas during your fourth year. However, he felt that, with the pressures on you from the Triwizard and since then, you didn't need one more thing to think about."

"That's what he told me about the Prophecy, too. I guess I was just hoping there was a better reason," Harry said in a complaining manner.

"If the Tournament hadn't ended in such a disaster, he would have told you all about it then. He wanted to give you time to recover, but the events of last year certainly didn't help. I think he was waiting for you to return to Hogwarts this year to tell you this part, if I'd been delayed again."

"And all this means what?"

"There are lots of reasons why it works out this way, but in a nutshell, it means that our magic will trump Riddle's, given any kind of even chance. If James had met Him in a real fight, instead of being surprised by Him when he thought he was safe, Voldemort should have been destroyed that night. The Prophecy implies there's some reason that what held for Tom Riddle no longer holds for Voldemort, but so far as I know, we don't know why. Most likely, it has to do with what Riddle did to himself to make himself Voldemort -- you are the only Potter born since the transformations became complete. Voldemort can't win against you in an open fight if we keep our heads -- just as your wand over-powered his after his resurrection, and his having a body based partially on your blood hasn't changed that, unless it's made him weaker. He has sent the magical world out of balance, and you have the power to counter Voldemort because we had the power to counter Tom Marvolo Riddle. Not to counter everyone, but specifically him -- you're very powerful, perhaps you'll be as powerful as James or even myself by the time you're an adult, but you could more easily lose to another very powerful wizard who wasn't a descendent of Slytherin if you aren't careful."

Edward hesitated, and then put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "That doesn't mean you're just a tool or a pawn, Harry, although it's understandable that you might feel that way at times. Voldemort can lose to a very powerful wizard who's not a descendent of Gryffindor. The difference is, Voldemort believes that he's so powerful that only a descendent of Gryffindor could pose any sort of threat -- plus Dumbledore, of course."

"But even if Dumbledore, and maybe you, can defeat him, only I can kill him, right? And if I don't kill him, he'll kill me?"

"Yes. I can defeat Voldemort, but I can't kill the bastard. You can."

"Thanks for telling me." He thought a moment. "Do I need to keep it a secret?"

"Probably, except from your closest friends, if you're sure they can keep a secret."

"And Sirius and Remus couldn't tell me?"

"Because they knew there was more to it than they knew, and they were forced to promise not to tell what parts they did know. And they didn't know the details of the Prophecy in any event, they just knew there was one that predicted you would lead to Voldemort's death."

"And the rest is?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"The details of the Prophecy itself, and that Gryffindor, and therefore the Potters, was also a secondary heir of Merlin -- descended from one of his granddaughters -- Dumbledore is a primary heir, by the way. We're also descended from just about every important Light and general magical family there has been in Western Europe over the last thousand years and more."

"Shit."

"It's a burden, being special, isn't it?"

Harry sighed. "I guess you would know, too."

The pair talked until nearly 6:00, which was when a roar was heard. "WHO IS HERE?"

Vernon was home.

Edward smiled grimly. "I think I'll go speak with dear Vernon." Harry decided his presence would just make the conference even nastier.

It was a very strange dinner at the Dursleys. In terms of quality and quantity of food allowed him, it was the best meal Harry ever remembered eating there. Petunia and Vernon were on their best behavior. Dudley was fairly nervous, but he tried to be fairly polite. When Edward left for the night, however, Vernon rounded on Harry.

"Think you've got us over a barrel, do you, boy?"

"Uncle Vernon, in less than two years I'll be out of your life one way or another, if that's what you really want. Can't we get along for the little time I have to be here between now and then?"

Vernon looked at the young freak. He huffed into his moustache, but then said, "Very well, boy. If you're going to paint the house, you'd better get to bed earlier than usual." Harry merely said goodnight, and left.

"Daddy?" Dudley asked when Harry was safely gone.

"Remember something, son," Vernon said quietly, almost to himself, "'he who has the gold makes the rules.' Freaks or not, they have the gold. It's to our advantage to keep this up for two more years, even if we don't like it much. And after all, he is a freak, but he's still related to you and your mother. We don't like him, but we don't want him to be killed, either. Just stay away from him."

"Yes, Daddy," Dudley responded. He left puzzled; still, at least this wizard hadn't transformed any part of him -- yet.