Dudley Dursley and the Knights of Walpurgis

July 2, 2018

Although it was more chaotic than he liked, Dudley Dursley couldn't help gazing happily around his breakfast table. School was out for the year and his oldest son, Rich, was home from Smeltings. Tomorrow, his wife, Sophie, would take their daughter for her school uniform; Daphne would be starting at Smeltings' sister school in the fall. Although the kids seemed determined to prove otherwise, his was a well-ordered, predictable world--just the way he liked it. A decent job, a wonderful wife, three terrific kids; there was nothing more that any sensible man could want.

The clatter of the post sent all three children racing to the front door to collect it. They came back to the kitchen, complaining that Tom had, once again, beat his older brother and sister to the door. Dudley was ignoring the morning quarrel as usual; it would die down much more quickly if he and Sophie stayed out of it, when something Tom said caught his attention.

"Daphne's got a boyfriend! Daphne's got a boyfriend!" he chanted, holding an envelope away from his sister.

"Do not!" Daphne insisted, trying to get the envelope from her brother.

"Then who would send you mail?" Tom asked. "And in such a funny-looking envelope?"

Dudley held out his hand and Tom, with no more than a token protest, handed over the envelope. It was as Dudley had feared; he'd first seen one of these nearly thirty years ago. He carefully looked up at his daughter; was she one of Them? And, really, did it matter? Mum and Dad would have said it did, but Dudley had stopped accepting their judgments without question while still in his teens. His breakfast was finished; Sophie was just finishing her tea. Keeping his hold on the envelope, he walked over to the telephone and dialled his office. "Good morning, Jeannie. Yes, it's Dudley Dursley . . . Look, I'm not feeling very well; is there anything urgent on my schedule for today? . . . No?. . . Great; then I'm taking a sick day. . . No, if you need anything, you can ring me at home. Thanks."

He hung up the telephone and looked at his family, who were staring at him as if he'd been replaced with an alien. He hadn't ever taken a sick day unless the doctor had insisted. "Let's finish up our breakfasts and clean up. Then we can deal with the letter."

Sophie poured the two of them more tea while the kids cleaned up the kitchen. Then, at Dudley's insistence, they moved to the lounge. Still holding the envelope, Dudley looked at Daphne. "I may be completely wrong about what this means, in which case, we'll just take a family day and not worry any more about it. If I'm right . . ." He couldn't finish the sentence. The look Rich was giving him made him think of that Sunday so many years ago. "Daddy's going mad, isn't he, Mum?" he'd asked his mother. He hoped he was handling things better as he handed Daphne her letter.

"What funny paper!" she said as she opened the envelope. Inside were two sheets of that strange, thick paper and a smaller envelope. Opening the top sheet, she read,

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Pernell Higginbotham

Dear Miss Dursley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Aurora Sinistra,

Deputy Headmistress

"Oh, this is stupid! There's no such thing."

"Quite right you are," Sophie said briskly. "We'll just bin it and go on-"

"No, we won't," Dudley said. He didn't care what his parents would say; he loved his daughter and she wasn't a freak! "It's real. There is magic and Hogwarts is a real school. My cousin went there, and so did his mum. Sweetheart, what's on the second page?"

Wide-eyed, Daphne read it all. "It's a list of school supplies. A cauldron? And I can bring a cat, a toad or an owl, but I can't bring a broom. Daddy, are you teasing me?"

"What's the envelope?" Sophie asked.

"It's addressed to you and Daddy," Daphne answered, and handed the envelope to her mother.

Sophie opened the second envelope and read aloud,

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

Ordinarily, we would send someone to explain about Hogwarts to the family of a new Muggleborn student; however, since you're aware of the Wizarding world, we didn't feel it was necessary. If you would prefer a personal visit, please sign this letter below.

"But they haven't given us an envelope, or a telephone number, or even a return address. How are we supposed to contact these people?"

Dudley walked over and took the note while the boys were reading Daphne's letter and adding their own commentary. Since they weren't being nasty, or no nastier than brothers ever were to their sisters, Dudley let them be. He suspected he knew what would happen when they signed the letter. "Do we want a personal visit? I think we probably should."

"Since this is all completely new to me, I'd say we need one. What about you?" To Dudley's relief, Sophie no longer sounded bewildered. She was beginning to sound annoyed, and at him, not at Daphne. He was beginning to think everything would be all right.

Picking up a pen, he considered what to say. His eyes fell on the collection of photographs on the mantel and he knew exactly what to say. He started writing. Tom came over, apparently bored with teasing his older sister, and read over Dudley's shoulder, "Please send Harry Potter. Not the giant bloke. Dudley Dursley" As soon as Dudley signed his name, the paper vanished. He looked at his family. "Hard to say how long it will take. If we haven't heard anything by evening, I'll write Harry myself."

Sophie, no fool, had noticed his look at the mantelpiece. "Harry Potter," she said as she walked over to it and picked up one of the five nicely framed wedding photographs there. The one in the middle was theirs and there was one each for her sister and her brothers. Each one had a smaller photograph of the couple and any children they had next to it; the latest Christmas card picture. The fifth was Harry's, with his pretty red-haired wife. There was a Christmas photograph there as well: Harry, his wife, two boys and a girl. Every year, he was relieved to see that Harry had again not sent one of the moving photos that they used.

"Does this mean you'll finally explain the problem between the two of you?" Sophie asked, exasperated as always when this subject came up. Sophie had a large close family; in addition to her siblings, she had a lot of cousins with whom she spoke regularly. It had bothered her ever since she'd been writing out their wedding invitations that Harry was never invited to any family gathering. Dudley had told her the truth, if not all of it; that Vernon and Petunia Dursley and Harry Potter in the same room was a recipe for disaster. When she'd pressed for more information, he'd told her that the subject was very painful and that he'd prefer not to discuss it.

"Harry's a wizard," he said. Sophie sat down abruptly and all three kids got quiet. "His mother was my mother's younger sister; when she was Daphne's age, she got a Hogwarts letter, too. Mum didn't." He took a deep breath. He hadn't really thought about any of this in years; the only contact he'd had with Harry since just after he'd turned eighteen was Christmas cards, wedding announcements and birth announcements. It was something he didn't want to deal with; parenthood had convinced him, once and for all, that Harry had been terribly wronged growing up and he'd never known what to do about it. "Mum hated it. I'm not sure whether she always believed it was . . . or if she was just jealous, but she hated magic. And her sister. So, my Aunt Lily married a man from Hogwarts and, after I was born, they had a baby. Harry. Then, just over a year later, they were killed. Murdered."

"Murdered?" Sophie asked. "Will Daphne be in danger? Because if she is-"

"I want to go!" Daphne spoke up. "I want to learn magic!"

"We won't send you where you aren't safe," Dudley said firmly. Sophie relaxed while Daphne scowled. "As far as what happened to Harry's parents, I'm not really sure. Mum would never discuss it or let Harry. After they died, he came to live with us. We, he didn't get treated well. I . . ." Dudley closed his eyes, feeling the heat rise to his face. "I used to beat him up, all the time. Mum and Dad had him doing all kinds of chores and stuff and, well, they never treated him like family. Then, Sophie, don't get upset. I know Harry would make sure we're safe if anything was going on."

"Why?" Tom asked. "Sounds to me like he'd be happy if we got hurt."

Hard as it was to say, Dudley did. "Harry's a better person than that. He didn't like us, but he made sure we were safe. As safe as he could. When he and I were seventeen, he and his lot thought the wizard who killed his parents might come after us to get at him. They protected us, guarded us, for nearly a year, until the bad wizard was stopped. Killed, I think."

"Why would he go after a teenager?" Sophie asked.

Dudley shrugged. "I don't know. When we were kids . . . I've talked more with Harry through Christmas cards than we ever did as kids. I never really asked."

"I don't believe it," Rich said.

"Believe what?" Dudley asked.

"That you treated him badly. Grandma and Grandpa, maybe, but you're too good a person to bully anyone."

Dudley wished he could accept his son's unquestioning belief, but it wouldn't be right. Especially if Harry did come back into his life. He'd worked so hard. . . "Now, you're right. I wouldn't. When I was fifteen, a magical thing, a," Dudley thought for a moment, "a Dementor attacked us. I couldn't stop it, that requires magic. Harry could and, even though I'd just punched him, he did. Fought it off and got me home. Half carried me. Once I got over the shock of it all, I realized what he'd done. What he'd risked; what he did. He could have been killed, but he didn't run. He stayed and he saved me. It made me think and, eventually, it made me change. Who I am now, someone I hope you lot can be proud of, that night had a lot to do with it. Harry never really got to see it, though; he only spent summers with us after he started at that school and, well, he'd leave as soon as he could. I think he only stayed at all because there was some magic spell keeping him safe when he was with us. Safe from bad magic, anyway. Not safe from us."

Sophie reached out to stroke his arm. "At least you realized you did have to change. I don't think I could have loved the man you were becoming, but I can certainly love the man you did become."

Rich was pale. "No wonder you get so angry when someone littler than me gets hurt. But, you know, Tom makes it look worse than it is. All the time."

Dudley rolled his eyes. "We're not discussing you and your brother now. But you're right; that's why I work so hard to treat you lot the same. I want my children to know they're loved. All my children. No matter what."

Daphne threw herself onto his lap. "You won't hate me if I'm a witch?"

"Absolutely not," Sophie said. "We love you. And you, Rich. And you, Tom." She reached over to kiss both boys on the cheek. Tom smiled and cuddled into her side, while Rich winced and wiped his cheek, complaining.

While they were sitting there quietly, an owl came through the window. Before Sophie or the kids could shoo it out the window, Dudley took hold of it and took the letter from its beak. While it stood on the back of the couch, waiting, he opened and read the note.

Dear Dudley,

Before I speak with the rest of your family, I would like to speak just with you in private. I can't do so today; however, I am free tomorrow after four or so. Please send the owl back with a note as to time and place.

Harry Potter

Dudley stared at the note, feeling a little sad. It wasn't quite the acceptance he'd hoped for, but it wasn't a rejection either. A further thought cheered him up: Harry probably just wanted to make sure that he wouldn't treat Daphne as his parents had treated Harry. He wrote back with the name of the local pub and seven in the evening and hoped it would be enough.

July 3, 2018

Harry stood at the entrance to the pub, wishing it were The Golden Snidget. Still, Dudley would probably be as uncomfortable there as Harry was here, and Harry was hoping for a good result out of the evening. So, here it was.

He pushed open the door and looked around. After a minute, he saw Dudley waving to him from a booth near the back. Harry blinked. The Christmas cards Dudley sent had made it clear that Dudley wasn't a carbon copy of Vernon Dursley. He'd slimmed down and seemed to have a nicer smile, instead of the superior smirk Uncle Vernon had always had on those rare occasions when he did smile. Still, Harry had still been expecting Uncle Vernon's glare, not this pleasant smile and hopeful expression. Maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

Walking over, he extended his hand. "Evening, Dudley. How's it going?"

Dudley shook Harry's hand and gestured to the bench opposite himself. "Not bad. Hoping we're not about to be descended upon by flocks of owls. None this morning, so that's a good start." He poured a mug from a pitcher already on the table. "It's the local brew. Good. If you don't like it, you can have whatever. Thought we'd be more private this way."

Harry sat down and took a sip. "Wow, this is good. Even better than the Snidget's." He set the mug down and tried to order his thoughts. "First, you're not going to get flocks of owls." Grinning, he added, "Well, not until the boys at Hogwarts meet Daphne. She's quite the pretty girl; she's likely to be popular. I got lots of them with my Hogwarts letter because your parents kept destroying them, and Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster back then, wasn't going to accept that I not come to Hogwarts. That's why they eventually sent Hagrid. He's the 'giant bloke'. Daphne's a different case. You and your wife--Sophie, right?--have every right to keep Daphne out of Hogwarts. Thomas, too, in two years when he gets his letter."

Dudley interrupted him. "So, Tom is a wizard? I've been wondering. Kind of hoping I was wrong, but, well, strange things happen around him."

Damn. Harry had been hoping Dudley would be better than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about this. "Yes, Thomas is a wizard. And you don't have to send them to Hogwarts, but strange things are going to keep happening if they don't learn how to use their magic." He decided to see what Dudley had to say.

It took a while. Dudley had grown up, and done a good job of it from what Harry could see, but he still didn't think fast. Finally, he said, "What's it like? Hogwarts, I mean, not magic."

"Hogwarts is great!" Harry said. "It's even better now than when I went, since Voldemort is gone and no new evil wizards have come to take his place."

"There aren't any bad wizards?" Dudley asked, his eyes wide.

Harry winced. "Don't I wish! No, we have our criminals and low-lifes, just like you do. It's just that we don't have an evil madman who has a good chance of taking power. With any luck, we won't see another one of those for quite some time. I'd say ever, but . . ."

"But that's too much to ask," Dudley said. He looked relieved. "So, what's it like? And I'll warn you, you'll have to explain it all over again for Sophie. Y'know, if you'd just come to the house, you'd only have to explain it once. She's the smart one anyway."

"If things go well tonight," Harry said, "which it looks like they will, Ginny wanted me to invite your family over for the weekend. Her parents are having their annual Hogwarts Letter picnic on Sunday and you'll get to see how wizards live."

"That sounds like just what Sophie would want. She's been asking me questions since yesterday morning and mostly I have to answer 'I don't know.'" He flushed a little. "Er, Harry, I haven't told my parents yet. I, I don't want," Dudley took a deep breath and said in a rush, "I don't want them to hurt Daphne. Or treat her like a freak. I don't know what to do."

"I certainly don't know either," Harry said. The knots that had been in his shoulders since Professor Sinistra had Floo'ed him yesterday were starting to ease. Dudley wasn't going to treat his daughter as he'd treated Harry; that was the important thing. In fact, Harry was pretty sure that Daphne would be going to Hogwarts in September. Assuming that Sophie could be convinced that it was best for her. "Maybe that she's your daughter and not me will help. Your mum, at least. I don't know if anything will help your dad." He reminded himself of the promise he'd made himself. "It might be better if we don't discuss them; I'm trying really hard to be nice, and I'm not sure I can be about them. Too much water."

To Harry's surprise, Dudley grinned at that. "Yeah, Tom wanted to know why you bothered keeping us safe. I had to admit you were the better man. Can you hear Dad if he'd heard that?"

Harry shuddered. Maybe Dudley could find the humour, but Harry suspected Uncle Vernon would still try to hit him if he heard a remark like that. Of course, Harry wasn't defenceless any more--he could more than hold his own against Vernon Dursley--but his gut wasn't at all convinced. "I'll take a pass, thanks. So, Hogwarts."

Dudley held up his hand. "Harry, please come home with me. Sophie's likely to make me sleep on the sofa if I don't bring you home tonight. And the kids are all dying to hear stories about Hogwarts. Daphne'd probably try to figure out how to turn me green. Or magic you there so she can talk your ear off. She went to the library yesterday and took out every book about magic she could find. She's talking about elves and magic horses and lions and . . ."

Harry groaned. Whenever possible, he avoided talking to the new Muggleborn students for exactly this reason. Having to explain that Middle-earth and Narnia didn't exist--really, truly--gave him a headache. And where did the magic horses come from? "If I come, can we keep the fictional magic to a low roar? Please? Because, really, anything she can get out of the library is fiction, I swear."

"The sooner you tell her, the fewer ideas she'll get into her head," Dudley said with a grin. "Which is for the best. Determined to make the world over the way she thinks it should be, that one."

"Great," Harry said. "Another Hermione. OK, lead the way."

Dudley's home didn't look that different from the house they'd grown up in, but there were obvious differences even from the outside. Although one of the cars in the driveway was a nice sedan that Uncle Vernon would have been proud of, the other was a minivan, with a Smeltings sticker on the rear window, that looked as if it saw a lot of use. The flowerbeds weren't the carefully regimented ones that Aunt Petunia had; they were neat but overflowing with colour. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but instead of the neatness and order of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Dudley and Sophie Dursley's home seemed welcoming and comfortable.

As they walked in the door, they were greeted by four people who appeared to have been waiting right there. After a few minutes of confusion, Dudley put his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply. Into the quiet he said, "Give the man room to breathe."

"Yes, let's show Daddy's cousin that we're civilized human beings and not wild animals," Sophie said. Turning to Harry, she offered her hand. "I'm Sophie Dursley, Dudley's wife, and I've been dying to meet you. For years, actually. Let me take your coat, and the kids can show you to the lounge." She gave a stern look at the kids. "What would you like to drink?"

"It's nice to meet you, Sophie," Harry answered. "You know, you're even more beautiful in person than you are in your photographs. You didn't have to hide her, Dudley," he said, "I'm quite in love with Ginny. I wouldn't have tried to steal her."

The younger two groaned, but the older boy gave Harry a sharp look. Sophie flushed and walked into the kitchen with his jacket, while Dudley chuckled. "That one makes up her own mind," he said. "Beer, ale, or would you like something stronger?"

"Whatever you're having," Harry said. He winked at the older boy, who relaxed a little. "Now, I know this lovely lady is Daphne. Let's see. You're," he nodded at the older boy, "Richard and this young man is Thomas; am I right?"

"It's Rich and Tom," Rich said. "Lounge is this way."

Once they'd all settled in, and Dudley had handed Harry a glass of what turned out to be whiskey, Harry looked around. "Why don't we start with your questions? Sophie's first," he said, before the kids could start with theirs.

"Is Hogwarts safe?" The look she gave him reminded him strongly of Professor McGonagall.

"As safe as it can be made," Harry said, on familiar ground. "Learning how to use magic has risks, and kids don't always follow the rules that are there for their protection. And there's no way to make flying completely safe, but-"

"Do you really use brooms to fly?" Daphne asked, her eyes shining. "Can you use any broom, or are there special ones? We have a really nice broom--"

"Daphne," Dudley said firmly, "you interrupted. Harry was talking and he's a guest. Now, apologize."

"Sorry," Daphne said, her whole body slumping.

With a glance at Sophie, who smiled and nodded, Harry answered, "Yes, we really use brooms to fly, but they're special brooms. They're made specifically for the type of flying needed and they have lots of charms and spells on them, to make them more comfortable and safer. Now, as I was saying," he gave the little girl a stern look, and then focused back on her mother, "flying can't be made completely safe, but we do our best. It's no more dangerous at Hogwarts than at any other school, and we're safer than many."

"What about this war, or whatever it was?" Sophie looked at Dudley. "Dudley couldn't explain much, but it didn't sound so safe to me."

"It's over," Harry said. "I, it's hard for me to talk about, but it's over. The only place Daphne may ever have to worry about it is in History of Magic. If they ever get anyone but Binns to teach it. He's a ghost," he said to Daphne in an aside.

Dudley and Sophie exchanged looks. "I still want to know more about it, but I'll let the kids ask you questions for a bit," she finally said.

For the next two hours, Harry answered questions about Hogwarts and the Wizarding world. To his relief, even though he made it clear to Rich that he wasn't a wizard, he didn't seem to mind and had almost as many questions as his two younger siblings.

When Sophie called the younger two to help her clean up, Harry asked, "Rich, are you okay with this? It can't be easy--"

Rich shook his head. "Dad and I had a long talk about this yesterday. I'm a lot like him, you know, and . . ." He was quiet for a minute, seeming to grope for words. "I like things simple. Magic seems complicated. The more you talk, the more complicated it sounds. I like Smeltings. I have friends there, I enjoy stuff there. I don't want to change everything. Daphne and Tom, they'll be happier with kids like them. Me, I'm happier with kids like me. Okay?"

Harry grinned. He could see Dudley's pride in his oldest son, a justifiable pride. "Sounds good to me. I couldn't help but worry; I know what it's like, being the different one."

Rich grinned. "I may be the different one, but I'm the bigger one. And they can't use magic until they're grown-up; Dad told us yesterday. So, I'm good."

Harry laughed. "Good."

After answering what felt like a million questions, most of them several times, Harry finally stood up. "Look, I have to go to work in the morning and I have to get some sleep." Before Sophie could do more than start to apologize, Harry held up his hand. "This'll all make more sense when you've seen it. So, Ginny has invited the five of you to spend the weekend with us. We can go to Diagon Alley to get Daphne's school supplies, you can see what a Wizarding house is like and, on Sunday, Ginny's parents are having a big picnic to welcome the Hogwarts kids home and congratulate the ones who just got letters, and they've invited you. Can I say you'll come?"

Sophie looked at Dudley who started to nod and stopped. "Ginny's family, they're the ones who picked you up that time? With the candy?"

Harry winced. "Yeah, those were her brothers. They were, well, you didn't treat me well back then and they were experimenting on their product line. You won't need to worry about the food; Mum'll keep George in line."

"And the other one?"

"Fred was killed during the war," Harry said. "So it's just George you have to worry about and, I promise, he really has grown up."

Sophie looked at Dudley. "Candy?"

Dudley shook his head. "Never mind. Bad memory." When he saw she wasn't going to let it go, he said, "They dropped this candy that I picked up and it made my tongue swell. Their dad fixed it, though. Still--"

"George won't do anything of the kind," Harry said, reminding himself to have a long, stern talk with George.

"Where do you live?" Sophie asked.

It suddenly hit Harry how difficult it would be for the Dursleys to find them. "I'll come here and bring you. That'll be easier than your trying to find us. Friday half-seven, then?"

"Friday at seven-thirty," Sophie confirmed. "What should we bring?"

"Yourselves," Harry said. "And enough clothes for the weekend. Nothing fancy; we won't be doing anything that requires dress r-, er, fancy clothes." And with a kiss from Sophie, a handshake from Dudley and hugs from the kids, Harry left, looking forward to the coming weekend.

July 4, 2018

Sophie found the whole situation very nerve-wracking. She didn't want to think about what it was doing to Dudley's blood pressure; between his fear of magic, which he'd finally admitted to her, and his near ignorance of the magical world, he didn't know what to expect, and Dudley liked things nice, settled and predictable.

Rich, fortunately, was being calm about the whole thing. He'd taken the attitude that it didn't directly involve him, so the only thing he needed to worry about was ensuring Daphne's protection while at Hogwarts. If she went, a caveat Sophie found herself repeating a dozen times a day. Daphne wouldn't be going until Sophie and Dudley were convinced it was safe.

Tom was interested, but it was a couple of years in the future for him, so he wasn't getting too excited. Sophie hoped he'd wait until he actually got his letter before he got excited; two years of Tom being extremely excited was more than she wanted to cope with.

Her real problem, unsurprisingly, was Daphne. After two solid days of speculation, Sophie finally snapped and said, "Why don't you write all these things down so you can remember them when we visit the Potters over the weekend?" That had sent Daphne off happily to compile her list; Sophie hoped the Potters would forgive her.

Thinking about it, Sophie realised it was actually a pretty good idea. She pulled out pen and paper and started to think.

July 5, 2018

Judith put down her Bible, leaving it open at Exodus 22:18. There was a bookmark at Deuteronomy 18:10 as well. She was grateful for concordances; it would have taken her forever to find the first passage without hers, and she wouldn't have known about the second.

She picked up the letter again and read it, then all of the material that Mr. Malfoy had left. He'd seemed nice enough, willing to answer any questions they had, offering to take them to the shopping area for Matt's school supplies.

She turned to the computer to look at the search she'd done earlier, for the meaning of "Malfoy". Bad faith. With a sigh, she read over the letter she'd written, signed it, and got it ready to post. He was supposed to be an expert; she hoped he'd know what to do about the evil that her son contained.

Standing, she straightened up the kitchen and began to prepare dinner. Before she returned her Bible to its place on her bedside table, she looked at that unforgiving verse once more. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

July 6, 2018

Daphne couldn't believe how slow the clock was moving. It had been at least two hours since seven o'clock, and it was only 7:25! The boys were just packing now; they were just throwing clothes into a suitcase and grabbing their handhelds. She didn't really blame Rich--this was just a family visit for him--but didn't Tom realise how important this visit was. Cousin Harry had said that he'd be attending Hogwarts when he turned eleven, and unlike Daphne, he could plan ahead.

Well, boys were stupid; that was all there was to that! Daphne, on the other hand, had been planning meticulously for this visit. She'd reviewed every novel she'd ever read that had magic in it. Cousin Harry said that there wasn't anything real in them, but Daphne refused to believe it. Companions had to be real; she insisted on it. She'd set up a database with all the information she currently knew about magic (all of it from novels, unfortunately), all of the information she knew she would need (classes mostly), and all of the questions she had otherwise. Creating that had helped to keep her from getting too impatient, but it was done now and it was time to leave. And it had been at least another hour, and it was only 7:28.

Finally, at least another hour and a half later, 7:30 came and there was a knock on the door. Daphne held herself back from rushing at the door--it wouldn't do to make a bad impression--and carried her bags to the door.

Daddy was greeting Cousin Harry when she walked to the front door. Cousin Harry smiled at her and gave her bags a questioning look. "It's only for the weekend, you know," he said, his voice kind but amused.

"I know. My clothes and things all fit in here," she said, holding up her smallest bag. Pointing to her laptop case, she said, "That's my laptop and these are my books." That was her old school book bag, which she was really hoping someone else would carry; it was heavy, but every book in it was essential.

"Erm," said Cousin Harry, looking a little surprised. Then, he grinned. "Wait till you meet Hermione; I think you two are kindred souls. Dudley, do you reckon everyone packed something electronic?"

"The boys have their handhelds," Daphne said as Daddy said, "Sophie probably packed her hair dryer. And our mobiles and . . ."

Cousin Harry held up his hand. "Can we get everybody here so I only have to do this once?" At least he looked amused and not upset. Daphne wondered what the problem was.

Once everyone came to the front hall, with Rich trying to convince Mum to bring the portable DVD, Cousin Harry said, "Unless you're ready to replace them, you should leave all your electronics at home. Magic and electronics don't mix; none of them will work and some of them may fry. That includes laptops, mobiles, handhelds, PDAs, hair dryers, electric shavers, and anything like that I'm not thinking of. I should have mentioned it, but I just don't think about it; we don't use them."

"You'll have to give us a few minutes to repack," Mum said. "I'm afraid we're all so used to them we don't even think about it."

"Sure. Sorry I didn't think about it earlier." Cousin Harry walked to the chair in the front hall they used when putting on their shoes and looked ready to settle in.

Daphne was ready to cry, and she was seriously reconsidering Hogwarts. No computers? The rest of it wasn't so important, but how could she do anything without her laptop.

Cousin Harry seemed to know what she was thinking. "You'll meet Hermione on Sunday," he said in his kind voice, "and you two can talk alternatives. In the meantime, print out the questions you've come up with; I'll wait."

"Can I bring the books?" she asked, blinking back her tears. They used books, didn't they? Were they special books?

Cousin Harry grinned. "You most certainly may! Although you may not want to bring too many; we'll be picking up your school books tomorrow and that will give you plenty to read."

Feeling a little bit better, Daphne went upstairs to print out her database. She left her books where they were; there was no such thing as 'plenty to read'.

It took almost half an hour for everybody to unpack all of their electronics and meet again in the front hall. Cousin Harry held up a tattered newspaper. "Good thing I left plenty of time before this activates; we have two more minutes."

"Two minutes?" Daddy sounded nervous. "What's going to happen?"

"This is a portkey," Cousin Harry said. "It's one of the ways we travel. This is set to take all of us to my house in Godric's Hollow in," he checked his watch, "thirty seconds now. Everybody touch the newspaper. You only need a fingertip."

Daddy used a fingertip, and looked like he was ready to jump away. Mum placed her hand on it, the boys each grabbed an end and Daphne placed her finger next to Cousin Harry's arm. He was holding the newspaper flat in his hand so everyone could reach it. Before she could ask what it felt like, she knew.

It felt as if a hook grabbed her behind her navel. There was a rush of air around her for a few minutes, and then it felt like she was falling. Which she kind of did, right into another entrance hall. Daphne stood up and looked around, ignoring the rest of her family, but it just looked like an entrance hall. There was a row of pegs with jackets on them, one that looked about ready to fall off. There was a full umbrella stand and a photograph of a woman flying on a broomstick! And her hair was moving! And, while Daphne watched, she punched the air in victory! Daphne dropped her bags and walked over to the photograph to look at it more closely.

"Daphne Elizabeth Dursley! You get back here this minute until we find what we're doing with our things!"

"But, Mum," Daphne wailed, "the photograph is moving! And she's on a broomstick and she's flying and it's magic and isn't that why we're here and . . ."

"Don't worry, dear. It'll still be here after we get you settled in, and a lot more, too." The woman walking toward her looked like the woman in the picture, but a little bit older. She had red hair and freckles and a nice smile. Behind her were two boys and a girl. The girl was Daphne's age, or maybe a little younger, with long hair and brown eyes. For the first time, Daphne noticed that Cousin Harry's family all wore what looked like long dresses. Was this how magical people dressed? Maybe not always; Cousin Harry was wearing jeans, and he'd been the other night, too. And the lady in the picture was wearing what looked like a sports uniform.

"Daphne, pay attention!" At least her mum didn't sound too annoyed, just resigned. Daphne was known for getting distracted.

"I'm sorry," Daphne apologized. "Everything's so different!"

"That's all right," the woman said. "Harry warned us about that. Now, I'm Harry's wife, Ginny, and these are our children: James, Albus and Lily." James looked disgruntled at being called a child; he was probably Rich's age, and Rich hated that.

Lily gave her a big smile. "You're sharing my room," she said as Daphne heard the arrangements for the others in the background. "Come on. Once you're unpacked, we can eat."

Mostly, the house looked normal. Hallways and doors and stairways were hallways and doors and stairways. But the photographs all moved! They didn't make any noise, but the people in them waved and smiled or scowled or turned away or jumped up and down or, in the case of one little boy, sat down and cried.

Lily's room didn't look that different from her own, full of ruffles and ribbons and "girly" stuff that Lily mostly had tied back out of the way. Daphne sympathised. Ruffles and such were all right in their place, but they had a tendency to get caught in things.

The posters on the wall were all of a team of women on broomsticks, singly and in groups. On the biggest were the words "Holyhead Harpies", which Daphne took to be the name of their team. They were playing some sport that involved balls and bats, although they didn't all have bats, and rings way above the ground. As Daphne put her things where Lily told her to, she asked, "What are they playing?"

Lily grinned. "Quidditch. That was Mum's team when she played, the Holyhead Harpies. She said it was more fun than almost anything. 'Cept being a mum, but I don't believe it. Nothing could be more fun than Quidditch."

Daphne could believe it. "Your mum played sports? Like, professionally?"

Daphne had a hard time following Lily's explanation, beyond the fact that, yes, her mum had played professional Quidditch before her big brother, James, was born, and her position had been Seeker. (It's probably not terribly important to this story, but I thought Ginny preferred being Chaser, so I'd think that would have been her professional position.) The rules flowed past Daphne, but that wasn't a problem. While Lily talked about Quidditch, Daphne explored the bedroom. Apparently, magic people's photographs all moved. And there was a ball of fluff that looked an awful lot like a tribble from Star Trek that Lily called a puffskein, whose name was Snitch. That had something to do with Quidditch, too. Lily was a year younger than Daphne and she wouldn't be going to Hogwarts for another year, so she went to the local primary school, where she had to be careful not to talk about magic, or Quidditch, or Snitch. It sounded pretty awful to Daphne, but Lily didn't seem to mind.

Once Daphne had finished looking around the room, they headed for the kitchen. On the way, they walked through a lounge that had more photographs. Cousin Harry and Cousin Ginny, who said Daphne should probably just call them Harry and Ginny, or Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny if she insisted on being formal, were showing them to Mum and Daddy. Ginny was holding a photo of a boy, or young man, with a black border around it. "That's Uncle Fred," Lily whispered in her ear. "He died a long time ago, in the War. Don't ask; Daddy doesn't like to talk about it."

"Why?" Daphne asked, whispering back. "Was he hurt badly?"

Lily shrugged. "Some. It's more that a lot of people he knew and liked died. Uncle Fred's the only member of our family who died, but we were really lucky. And Uncle Bill and Uncle George were both scarred, and Daddy was made an orphan, and Mum was kidnapped by a diary and almost killed by a basilisk, and Uncle Ron was poisoned, and Grandpa was bitten by a snake, and Grandma killed an evil lady who was going to kill Mum, and Uncle Percy came back to fight the battle, and Grandma's brothers were both killed in the first one, and . . ."

"And I think it's time to eat," said Aunt Ginny. "You don't need to worry, Daphne. All this happened twenty years ago and it's all over."

That meant there were probably history books. Daphne couldn't wait.

As they ate, and all four boys acted like wild animals, the plan for the rest of the weekend was explained. First thing in the morning, they would go shopping for school at some place called Diagon Alley. Then, on Sunday, they were going to a burrow and having a picnic with Aunt Ginny's family, where they'd get to meet a lot of people who'd either gone to Hogwarts, were going to Hogwarts or would be going to Hogwarts once they got old enough.

Daphne went happily to sleep, looking forward to seeing magical places and getting her new books. Snitch decided to sleep in the bed with her, so everything was perfect. Even without her laptop.

July 7, 2018

Meals seemed pretty normal, as long as you didn't watch the washing up too closely. But now they were going to this Diagon Alley, by way of the Floo. Dudley's tension had skyrocketed as soon as that was mentioned, so Sophie thought it was likely something he'd seen when he was growing up. Something that had gone wrong and no one had explained it to him. When she finally got to discuss this with her in-laws, Sophie would have a few things to say to them.

What really worried her was this war. Both Harry and Ginny had insisted that it was over, that there were no remnants of it being fought. Judging from the fact that the children treated it as boring, something to sleep through in history class, Sophie thought that was probably the truth, but it was also obvious that it still affected Harry. She planned on checking out the history section at the bookstore; surely there would be something there.

Breakfast was much like breakfast in her own household, but with owls to bring the post and a magical scrub brush to clean the dishes. The breakfast conversation was a comparison of magical scrub-brushes and dishwashers; the two women concluded that they were pretty even, all things considered.

While helping Ginny to brush everyone clean after they stepped out of the Floo, Sophie wondered if the efficiency and non-existent travel time was worth the soot and falls associated with magical travel. Watching Harry complain as he fell out of the fireplace on the other end made her wonder why they didn't just drive.

The entrance to Diagon Alley turned out to be behind the Leaky Cauldron. Someone magical had to open it; Dudley and Sophie would never be able to go there on their own. Harry tapped a couple of the bricks and the wall opened up onto the alley.

The rest of the morning turned into a blur for Sophie. Harry and Ginny were clearly old hands and moved them along quickly and efficiently. It took a bit for Sophie to realise the main reason they were doing so; whenever they stopped for more than a minute, people began coming up to Harry, shaking his hand, and thanking him for everything he'd done. What he'd done was never explicitly stated, although one old man thanked him for "making our world safe for my grandchildren". It made Sophie wonder. Until now, considering how little Dudley knew, she'd assumed that Harry had been part of the fight, but no more important than would be expected for a teenager. As she watched the people watch Harry, even when they didn't approach him, and the practiced way he greeted and thanked them, Sophie began to think that whatever it was that Harry had done was a little more than simply fighting in their war.

Their second to last stop was the bookstore. While the others went looking for the necessary schoolbooks, Sophie went for the history books. To her surprise, not only were there quite a few about the war, but there were several specifically about Harry. She pulled out the two general books that looked to be the most complete and tried to decide which of the biographies she should get. As she was trying to determine which was the best from the front flap material, a man walked up to her and asked, "Need some help?"

Sophie looked up, a bit startled; she hadn't heard him. He was about her age, tall and slender with pale blond hair, grey eyes and a pointed chin. "Just trying to decide which of these to buy. Do you have any suggestions? And you are?"

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm Draco Malfoy. And I'm probably not the best person to ask for the best biography of the Boy Who Lived, Ms.--?"

"Sophie Dursley," she said, holding out her hand to shake. "I was looking for some information on Harry Potter. Is he really called the Boy Who Lived?"

"Only in the newspapers. Malfoy," Harry said, walking up behind her. He looked at the books she was browsing and winced. "This is the best of the histories," he said with a sigh, handing one of the history books she'd chosen, "and I'd go with this one to supplement it." He pulled another book off the shelf that Sophie had discarded as she hadn't been able to determine what it was about. "And I promise you, Daphne will be perfectly safe; the war is over."

Before Sophie could say anything, Mr. Malfoy said, "It sounds as if Mrs. Dursley would like to make sure of that herself. Daphne is your daughter?" he asked Sophie. "I had a Daphne Dursley on my list of Muggleborn first years, but she was crossed off."

"Dudley is my cousin," Harry said, his voice tight. "He was more comfortable having me explain things than a total stranger."

"Of course," Mr. Malfoy drawled. "I've compiled a reading list for first year Muggleborns and their parents; it's designed to help explain the Wizarding world and allow the children to fit in better once they begin attending Hogwarts. May I send it to you?"

"Yes," Sophie said, wishing that one of them would step away. The tension between the two men was giving her a headache.

"May I ask why you've compiled the list? You don't know anything about Muggles or what they do and don't know." Harry was glaring at the other man.

"I know more than you might think," Mr. Malfoy said. His posture was relaxed but his voice was almost as tight as Harry's. "I've been helping Muggleborns get used to the Wizarding world since I was eighteen. Oh, and I would recommend this one for the biography. It's on the reading list." He pointed to one of the books she'd been looking at, The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Defeater of Voldemort: And All Without His NEWTs. He turned and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, Harry sighed heavily. Then he looked at Sophie with a rueful smile. "Sorry about that. We hated each other in school and I've hardly seen him at all since then. You know, I'll answer any questions you have; really, I will."

"Yes," Sophie said, although she had her doubts, "but I don't know what questions to ask. Dudley might have a better idea, but--"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but it's all tied up with all the stuff we're carefully not discussing. Dudley now's not a bad bloke. I can see spending a pleasant evening in a pub with him. Back then, well, his favourite game was Harry Hunting. It makes some discussions tough."

"So, I'll read this book and then I'll know what questions to ask," Sophie said. "Do people really call you these things?"

With a sigh, Harry shrugged. "Not so much any more. Twenty years ago, well, even then it was mostly the newspapers. As for why I was in the newspapers . . . Merlin, I hate talking about this stuff. It makes me sound so, so, arrogant. Why does anybody care?"

"There you are!" Ginny said, turning a corner behind Harry. "What happened? You two look like something happened."

"Malfoy," Harry said. "And Sophie's looking for a little light reading." He suddenly turned to Sophie. "Are you related to the Grangers?"

The non sequitor surprised Sophie. "Who?"

"One of my sisters-in-law," Ginny said absently. "What kind of books were you looking at?" Then she saw the books Sophie was holding. "Oh. Tomorrow, ask my mother about Harry. She'll tell you everything you could possibly want to know and then some. Come on; the kids are dying to get to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Ginny's brothers' shop was everything a teen or preteen could want in a joke shop. It was bright, loud and filled with jokes that were, as a friend had once put it, "rude, crude and socially unacceptable". Rich was frustrated that he wouldn't be able to show most of the jokes to his friends since they relied on magic; Sophie made herself a note to check his bags when they got home in case of smuggling. Then she realised she'd have to check all three of the kids. And maybe Dudley as well.

As they sat at an ice cream parlour once they'd finished their shopping, Sophie looked at her family. Daphne's eyes were bright and she was chattering away to anyone who would listen to her. She'd pulled out her wand and was waving it around, despite the lectures on wand safety that both Harry and Ginny had given her. Other people noticing her smiled; they seemed to be both amused and nostalgic. Tom was chattering at Albus at a million miles a minute; Albus was being kind enough to allow it. Rich and James were quiet and seemed to be casually checking out the pretty girls. Casually for young teens, anyway.

Sophie leaned over to Dudley. "They all look happy, don't they?"

He nodded, his eyes still a little shadowed. "I was talking to the lady at the book shop; she said there was to be a Hogwarts tour for all the first years and their families in two weeks. I signed us up. I, I can't just let her go without--"

Harry leaned over. "What's this about a tour?"

"Yeah, they were saying at Flourish and Blott's that they were trying to ease the first years in a bit more than is traditional," Ginny said, leaning over. "There's a tour, a shopping day at Diagon Alley, and maybe even a Quidditch match, although that's still open. Some of the old biddies are complaining about how 'It's not traditional,' but I think it's great. Especially for the Muggleborns. Hermione still complains about how scary it was to start without knowing anything."

"Hermione knew plenty," Harry said with a laugh. "She'd memorised all her textbooks and was working on Hogwarts: A History by the time we got on the Hogwarts Express."

Daphne's eyes were huge. "Really. Should I start on mine?"

"I don't believe that," said Sophie as Harry said, "Absolutely not." When Sophie indicated he should continue, Harry said, "Hermione did that for her own peace of mind. I'd skimmed a few of mine, but I hardly knew anything when I started. And you'll get yourself a reputation if you do memorise them."

"It didn't hurt Hermione any," Ginny said.

"I'm not so sure about that," Harry argued. "If it hadn't been for the troll--"

"There's trolls?" Daphne asked, looking enraptured. "Are they nice?"

"No," Harry said. "Fortunately, you very, very rarely see them around people. This one had been lured there to be a distraction. We got very lucky."

"No trolls. Got it," Daphne said, a smile back on her face. "And I don't have to memorise the books, but reading them over's a good idea. Right?"

"Right," Ginny said, standing up. "Why don't we head back to the house and relax for the rest of the evening?"

Everyone seemed agreeable to that idea. Once home, the two girls set themselves up on the living room floor. Daphne was reading her new textbooks and Lily was reading Daphne's fantasy novels. The boys went upstairs, from which bangs and thumps came for the rest of the day. "We have a ward that lets us know if they've done anything dangerous or destructive," Ginny told Sophie when she was starting to go up to check on them after one particularly long bang followed by silence. "Mum gave it to me when I was carrying James. We've found they cause less trouble when we don't look over their shoulders. Harry'll go up for something in a few minutes and look in on them then."

"Hell with that," said Harry. "It sounds like they're having fun; I'm going to go up and join them. How about you, Dudley?"

Once they'd straightened up a bit, Ginny indicated the girls. "Shall we join them?" Sophie was agreeable; she wanted to know what questions to ask.

Sophie read the biography first. She started off writing notes as she read, but it wasn't too long before she was just reading. It was gripping reading, if you could forget that the child she was reading about was real. She finished late in the afternoon and put the book aside.

She'd been so absorbed that she hadn't noticed that the girls had left and that Harry was now sitting in the "Dad" chair. He was glancing through some papers, but looked up at her when she put the book down. "What did you think?"

Sophie had no idea how to respond to his wry question. "How can you be so normal?" was what came out, to her dismay.

Fortunately, Harry chuckled. "It's down to frame of reference," he said, settling back. "Reading it like that, as an adult, knowing what's normal for most kids, it probably does sound pretty horrible. I haven't read it, by the way; I've not read any of the biographies. It feels weird, reading about myself that way. Anyway, it was just my life. Kids don't get a choice in who raises them and how and," Harry paused, seeming to struggle for words. "People also go on about what a hero I was, but I never saw any real alternatives. Not without changing who I was, who I am. Even--" Harry shook his head. "Sometimes it was hard, but it was the right thing to do. So I did it."

Sophie stared at him. Some of the things he'd done were truly heroic, difficult decisions that most people could never make, and this pleasant, unassuming man said it was just what he had to do? She couldn't get her head around it. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but not that Dudley's cousin, who didn't get along with his parents and never came to family gatherings, was one of the two, maybe three, key figures in a war. And, now, his life felt unnaturally normal. That actually made sense to her; after the events of his childhood, she could see how he would want a "normal" life.

"Daphne's going to have problems at Hogwarts, isn't she?" she finally asked. "It's pretty clear that people know how Dudley and his parents treated you."

"We're working on that," Harry said with a shrug. "I've been talking to everyone at work, as has Ginny, about what a nice guy Dudley grew up into. Once they meet him, Ron and Hermione will work on that, too."

"They're pretty protective of you, huh?" Sophie asked. It was clear from her reading that the relationship between Harry, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger was unusually tight. She wondered idly if Hermione Granger and Ginny's sister-in-law were the same person; it seemed possible.

"You have no idea," Harry said, chuckling. "Then, I sat James and Al down and explained things: both what happened when Dud and I were kids and what's going on now. They've been charged with keeping an eye on her and treating her just as they would a little sister. They'll probably tease her unmercifully, but they'll keep anyone else from doing so. And again, after tomorrow, the rest of the Weasleys should be doing the same thing. I'm kind of hoping she gets sorted into Gryffindor. The Head, Neville Longbottom, is a good friend of mine; I know he'll keep an eye on her." Harry was smiling fondly when he said, "Well, he would anyway, but he can do a better job if she's in his House. We'll keep her safe; I promise."

"From you, that means something," Sophie said, still having trouble reconciling the man she was getting to know with the one in the book. He seemed too . . . happy. That realisation crystallised what she was feeling. "How were you able to keep going, to not, I don't know, demand the world from everyone?"

Harry grinned. "I already had what was most important to me. And, because I never tried for it, I also had as much power, as much wealth, and more fame than I ever wanted. I'm perfectly happy not living on a grand scale. Now," he asked as he stood, "how does some food sound? Ginny's throwing a couple of salads together, and Dudley's burning some meat on the grill."

Sophie grinned. Dudley was nearly a gourmet cook as long as it involved the grill. "Sounds good."

July 8, 2018

Dudley woke Sunday morning to Sophie shaking his shoulder. "Wha'?" he mumbled, burrowing more deeply into the bed.

"Get up!" his wife said, sternly. "You need to get up and get moving or we'll miss church."

"Harry never went to church," Dudley grumbled as he disentangled himself from the covers.

"Your parents never went to church," Sophie said, getting dressed now that she was sure Dudley was getting up. "It doesn't matter; we're all going this morning."

"Good thing we brought nice clothes," Dudley said, fumbling his dressing gown on to go and shave.

"Yes, it's a good thing I know how to pack. Now, get moving."

Breakfast wasn't as rushed as Dudley had expected from Sophie's rushing; apparently, she'd given him plenty of time. To Dudley's surprise, Harry made it. "Wouldn't have thought you'd ever cook after . . ." he muttered.

Harry grinned at him. "Knowing I can eat as much as I want, and snitch bits as I'm cooking, makes all the difference. I enjoy cooking these days."

Ginny snitched a piece of bacon, for which Harry smacked her hand. He then apologized with a kiss. "Get a room!" their eldest, James, yelled.

Harry stuck out his tongue. "I got the house, so there!"

Ginny smacked his bum. "Behave yourself!"

The light-hearted banter continued as they left the house. "The church is just a little ways away," Harry told him. "We always walk unless the weather's really bad."

"Plus this way we don't put the whole town at risk of Harry's driving," Ginny said, laughing.

"I'm not that bad," Harry said.

Dudley sidled up to him. "Is this a . . . one of our churches or one of yours?"

Shaking his head, Harry said with a laugh, "There's really no difference, but there's both Muggles and wizards in the congregation, so magic never gets mentioned. Don't worry; you'll be fine."

To Dudley's relief, Harry was right. The service was just like the one at home. Neither Harry nor Ginny seemed to be much involved in the church's activities, but they were very well known. Dudley found himself introduced to a lot of people. Unlike yesterday, when Harry had seemed ill at ease with all the attention he attracted, he seemed comfortable with it this morning. When Dudley whispered the question, Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I know the people here; it's not just because of Voldemort and stuff. Here, I'm mostly answering questions about the kids."

Dudley nodded. He understood that; he could talk all day about his kids easily.

As they walked home, James suddenly stopped, turned and walked down another street. "James," Harry called. "C'mon; we're going to the Burrow."

"I think they should see it," James said. Dudley recognized the sound in his voice; it was the same Harry would get when he'd finally dug in his heels and refused to move.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. "I think it'd be good," she said. "You don't have to come."

Harry's sigh sounded as if it came from beneath the sidewalk. "No, you're right and I'll come."

They were walking through the main square, right toward a war memorial. Then, Daphne gasped. "Daddy, did you see that?"

Dudley looked over at Sophie, who shook her head. Apparently, you had to be magical to see the whatever-it-was that James wanted them to see. Before he could say anything, Daphne grabbed his hand to pull him towards it. With a shock, Dudley watched the memorial change into a statue, a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses who looked a lot like Harry, a pretty woman with long hair and a kind face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms. The Wizarding world's war memorial, he supposed, or one of them. It left him with an ache in his throat; this would have been Harry's family before his parents had died, before he'd been given to the Dursleys, when he was still . . . He looked away.

Sophie had taken Tom's hand and was looking at the statue gravely, and Rich, Ginny's hand on his arm, just looked uncomfortable. After a few minutes, James looked at Dudley, solemn as only a teenager could manage. "I thought you lot needed to see it. We're going to the Burrow, which is great, but we should have had two sets of grandparents. They were heroes, and I sometimes think they get forgotten." Then he looked over at his father a little sheepishly. "Not you, Dad. I mean, in general."

"'S'okay," Harry said, his voice tight. "But we've seen it now. Let's go on."

The adults walked home slowly, but Harry's kids were racing. "What's so exciting about going to your grandparents?" Tom finally asked when Al tried to hurry him along for the fifth time.

"Don't you like going to yours?" Al asked, sounding incredulous. "Gran and Grandpa are great! And all the uncles'll be there, and aunts, and cousins. Is it true," he asked Ginny, bouncing, "that Uncle Charlie's going to be there?"

"That's what I've heard," Ginny answered, sounding amused.

"My parents are a bit older," Sophie said, explaining, "and Dudley's are, well--"

"Don't worry; I understand perfectly," Harry said. Unfortunately, Dudley knew he did.

Once home, Harry's kids raced upstairs to get changed; Dudley's had begun to pick up the excitement and were moving almost as quickly. "We'd better make it quick ourselves," Ginny said, laughing. "They'll bounce the house off its foundations if we make them wait too long."

All too quickly, they were ready to go. This was vastly different from going to Diagon Alley yesterday; Dudley could pretend it was one of those fairs where people dressed up as lords and ladies from long ago. It was also different from the year he and his parents had spent in hiding. There hadn't been any electricity, and those things they were used to using electricity for were done by magic, but they hadn't been doing anything flashy, anything "abnormal". And the fear of what might happen if they were found had drained all excitement from what was going on around them; it had been a horribly grim year.

Harry's in-laws, though, were used to using magic for everything and, when they were kids, at least, they'd used magic to play pranks and such. Dudley had admired the joke shop yesterday--it had clearly been a thriving, professionally-run business. He could still remember that candy, though, and that made him nervous.

They took another Floo trip to get to Ginny's family's home, the Burrow. As he came out the other side, spitting ashes again, Dudley asked, "I know they have cars in your world, Harry; they even fly. Why can't we take one of those?"

"That car!" a woman's voice snapped. "Fortunately it was confiscated, or I'd, I'd--"

"Hi, Mum," Harry said, laughing. "Dudley had never seen anything fly before, except airplanes. Speaking of which, this is my cousin, Dudley Dursley, his wife, Sophie, and their children, Rich, Daphne and Tom. And this is my mother-in-law, Molly Weasley."

Molly Weasley was a short, plump woman, with fading red hair, and a kind smile. "Welcome, we're so pleased you could come. Make yourselves at home; you can see we don't stand on ceremony here--"

"What ceremony are we not standing on now?" asked a man who had just walked in to the house. He was tall, with long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, a discrete earring, and horrible scars on his face.

"Any of them," Ginny said. "Hey, there, what did you bring?" Dudley hadn't noticed the dish and large pot Ginny had brought with her.

"Lamb," the man said, laughing. "What else?"

"Oh, you," Molly said, swatting at him. "This is my oldest, Bill. Everyone else is out back in the garden. Come on back. The younger ones can play Quidditch while we adults talk." She started to lead the way through the kitchen when she suddenly stopped. "Oh, no," she said, looking dismayed, "I don't know if broomsticks work for Muggles. Which of you two--?"

Dudley was proud of his oldest. Rich leaned over and hugged Molly, and said, "If I'd been meant to fly, I'd have wings. It sounds like fun to watch, but I like both my feet on the ground."

Molly hugged him back, and then held him out at arm's length. "And you're?"

"Rich," Rich answered.

"And a very sensible boy you are," she said. "Don't you worry, someone will explain all the rules to you." She put her arm around Rich and led them out into the garden.

Dudley looked around curiously. This was one of the two places Harry had looked forward to going when he was at school; the other was Hogwarts. Somehow, Dudley was expecting something grander, nicer than his parents' house. Even knowing how Harry had been treated, Dudley wouldn't have expected Harry to want to go to anyplace that wasn't as nice.

The reality was a slap in the face. There were signs that the house had been improved upon over the last several years, but it was an older home, and a bit on the shabby side. Clean, comfortable, inviting--it was all of those things, but his parents' house had been nicer. It was clear to Dudley that Harry had felt welcome here. To Dudley's shame, he suspected that Harry would have preferred a hovel, someplace filthy and horrible, if he were only made welcome. A lump formed in his throat as he was confronted with how he and his family had treated Harry when they were younger.

He'd stopped for too long; Molly had returned and put her hand on his arm. "Dudley? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, hating the hoarseness in his voice. "It's kind of hard, realising what a prat I was." He looked at her, aware that his cheeks were red. "I'm glad you and your family took Harry in. We . . ." He couldn't continue.

Her lips pursed for a moment, but then she smiled. "It was our pleasure," she said warmly. "Harry was such a sweet boy. And we were all happy when he joined the family officially."

Dudley asked a question that had been worrying him. "Daphne. I don't want her . . . Harry seems to be so famous. If people know about us . . ."

Molly sighed. "Well, people do know about Harry's childhood, I'm afraid. That was one of the reasons he wanted Daphne to come here and get to know the other kids. He wanted to make sure that the Weasleys, at least, knew what kind of a person Daphne herself was, not what kind of people her grandparents are. Harry's never been one to judge a child based on his or her parents."

Wishing she'd turn that scrutiny elsewhere, Dudley dredged up a smile. "Just like I told Tom. He's a better person than we were. I've tried . . ."

"Well, it looks to me like you succeeded," she said. "They seem like such nice, well brought up youngsters."

"More Sophie's doing than mine," Dudley admitted.

"I doubt that." She smiled and took his arm. "Shall we go out and enjoy the sunshine?"

Once outside, Dudley felt more than a little overwhelmed. It felt as if there were as many people in the Weasley's back garden as there had been in Diagon Alley the day before. Today, however, more than half of the people had red hair, and they all knew one another. As they approached the group of adults sitting and watching the children play, Dudley noticed that all of the adults weren't there. "Where's Harry and Ginny?" he asked Sophie. She looked comfortable, as if she'd fitted right in. She probably had, Dudley knew; she had that knack.

"Harry and Ginny don't seem to be able to resist a call to Quidditch," Sophie told him. "At the moment it's parents against kids. The parents are winning, but I think that's because they're cheating."

"Hmph," said one of the men Dudley didn't think he'd ever met. He was as tall as the man from the kitchen, but his red hair was short, he wore spectacles, and even his casual clothes had a stuffy feel to them. "They're just better fliers than the children," he said, his voice prim and precise. "Experience tells. I'm Percy, by the way. Son Number Three. I think Bill said you met, sort of, in the kitchen." Bill was being given a scolding look; Dudley thought it was because he hadn't properly introduced himself. "He's the eldest of us. The other four, Charlie, George, Ron and Ginny are on brooms. And the ladies . . ."

"Relax a bit, would you, Percy?" laughed a familiar-looking woman. She had bushy brown hair, ink-stained fingers and kind brown eyes. "Since Percy's introduced the Weasleys, I'll do the spouses, shall I?" Not waiting for Percy to object, she said, "You know Ginny's husband, Harry, of course. I'm Ron's wife, Hermione. I think you saw me at King's Cross a few times; I was usually with Harry when your family picked him up." Dudley nodded; she was probably right. "George's wife is Angelina; she's playing Quidditch as well. Percy's wife is Audrey," a woman with rosy cheeks and a brown plait down her back nodded, "Charlie's not married and Bill's wife is Fleur, who's . . . Where did Fleur go?"

"Over 'ere, trying to bring order to ze food. Impossible task, I know." Fleur was an amazingly beautiful woman, with long silver hair and bright blue eyes. She was holding a little boy on her hip, who was babbling at her. "And you are Dudley, yes?" she asked, holding out her hand. Although Dudley shook it, he suspected she'd expected him to kiss it. "You 'ave ze misfortune of trying to remember all our names, while we only 'ave the few to remember. But don't worry; we're all used to it. Who is winning?"

"The parents, thanks heavens, or the kids would be insufferable." An older man walked over. Dudley definitely remembered him. Mr. Weasley, the man who'd blown up the fireplace, unshrunk his tongue and insisted that Dad had said good-bye to Harry that one year. The years had been good to him, if not to his hair; he was now completely bald. "Hallo, Dudley. Nice to meet you again. Now, which one is going to Hogwarts next year?"

"Our little girl," Dudley said, trying to pick her out from the gang of children. She clearly wasn't in the group of people on broomsticks. It took a minute, but he did finally spot her, in a group clustered around watching the match. "There, the little blonde."

Arthur looked for a few minutes and then smiled. "There she is. Pretty little thing, and it looks like she's fitting right in."

They settled into chairs and, within a surprisingly short amount of time, Dudley felt as he did at any get-together with good company. Although Dudley didn't know the Wizarding world's political issues, they sounded much the same as they did in his world. Today, however, was a day for discussing the children, and Hogwarts, and Quidditch. Children with scraped knees came begging for Mummy's kisses and a charm to stop the bleeding; other children came complaining about siblings, or cousins, or were a little confused as to which was which.

Sophie was in her element. Although the Weasley family was larger than her own, both families were large and close-knit. She'd settled in with Molly and Hermione for a good long chat about Harry's school days and war days. Dudley, on the other hand, found himself answering the weirdest questions he'd ever heard. Arthur and Percy had been having an argument about plugs and expected him to settle it. He did the best he could, but what he mostly knew about plugs was that you plugged them into the wall to get the whatever-it-is to work. Eventually, out of sheer desperation, he looked over at Sophie. "Soph, would you mind having Arthur, and Molly of course, over for an afternoon sometime soon? Maybe next weekend?"

"Not at all," Sophie answered, just as Molly said, "Arthur, stop pestering the poor man!"

"He's not pestering," Dudley said, defending Arthur. Dudley had come to the realisation that, regardless of how terrifying he had found the older man when he was a child, Arthur was the mildest and gentlest of men. "I just can't answer his questions, and I thought it might be easier to show him."

"Show who what?" Harry asked. Dudley hadn't noticed the Quidditch match ending. He looked up and realised that it hadn't; the teams had just changed. It now appeared to be Boys vs. Girls.

"Arthur about electricity and such," Dudley answered. "Who won your game? And who's going to win this one."

"We won, of course," answered another man. Not as tall as Arthur or Bill, missing an ear, and a face Dudley still sometimes had nightmares about. "As for that one, it'll be the girls."

"Good luck, Dudley," Hermione said, laughing and shaking her head. "My parents have tried at least a dozen times; it never quite seems to take." She stood and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "I haven't seen Hugo for a bit; think I'd better check on him."

Harry plopped down into her chair. "Enjoying yourselves? Your kids sure are. Rich is learning Exploding Snap and Daphne's begging for a try on a broom. Hope you don't mind; it's better she start with some adult supervision or she'll be sneaking it."

"Er, Exploding Snap won't hurt him or anything, right?" Dudley asked, visions of Aunt Marge in his head.

Harry grinned. "Only his eyebrows."

Sophie leaned over. "You killed a basilisk? At twelve? And nearly died? Where were the teachers?"

Looking as if he were about to face a firing squad, Harry asked, "Mum, what have you been telling her?"

"All the times you've saved our family," Molly answered. "Directly, that is. And about helping you onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters your first year."

Harry smiled fondly. "Yeah, that was brilliant. And Ron and I shared a compartment. We were best friends by lunchtime."

"Only because you shared your candy with him," Hermione said, returning with a dirty, squirming, little boy. "I'll be back as soon as I sort this one out."

"So, he saved Ginny's life her first year, Arthur's his fifth, Ron's his sixth--" Molly continued, to Harry's evident discomfort.

"Don't forget his giving us the money to start our shop," said the earless man, whose name Dudley couldn't remember and wouldn't ask, thumping Harry so hard on the back he fell out of his chair.

When Harry got up from the ground, his face was bright red. "Let's talk about Charlie, yeah?" he said, sounding tired. "He's not here, and his life is a lot more interesting than mine."

Molly took mercy on Harry and switched the subject, although she gave Sophie a wink that Dudley thought meant they'd be continuing the subject later, out of Harry's earshot.

When the sun set, Dudley caught Harry's eye. He smiled and nodded and began gathering his family together. Dudley went looking for his kids. He found Rich and James together, as they'd been for most of the weekend. At the moment they appeared to be seeing which of them could do a better job of grossing out the girls. Daphne was in the midst of a group of girls, exchanging addresses, recommended books, and packing tips.

Tom was the hardest to find. After nearly twenty minutes of searching, Dudley found him at least thirty feet in the air at the top of a tree that Dudley didn't think he could climb. "Tom! Stay there; I'll get help!"

"Don't worry, Dad," Tom called down and appeared to fall out of the tree. Dudley screamed and went running to try to catch his youngest son when he realised the boy wasn't falling, but flying. On a broom!

Once Tom landed, as neatly as if he'd been doing it all his life, Dudley noted distantly, Dudley grabbed his son's ear and dragged him back towards the house. "And if you think I'm ever buying you a broom, you have another think coming, young man!" he shouted.

"What did he do?" Molly asked, looking worried.

"He was in the top of that tree!" Dudley said, pointing to it. "Nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Flew up, eh?" Molly asked, her face growing stern. "Was anyone with you?"

As he hadn't when Dudley had been scolding him, Tom's body slumped in shame. "No, ma'am."

"Well, then," Molly said, "the next time you come to visit, the first thing you do will be to thoroughly de-gnome the garden; do you understand me, young man?"

Tom nodded and slunk away. Once his back was turned, Molly gave Dudley a wink. "Every one of mine have wound up in that tree. Ginny used to practically live in it. Sorry he gave you such a turn; I usually keep an eye on it."

"I don't think Tom will be doing that again," Sophie said, as she walked up with all three children. Harry, Ginny and their three were right behind her. "Molly, thank you all for inviting us. It's been a wonderful day."

The children all nodded and added their thanks. They Flooed back to Harry's, who set up a Portkey to take them home.

As Dudley collapsed into bed that night, the foremost thought in his head was that he'd been a fool to reject Harry when they were kids. He could have had such fun!

Author's Note: This will be a full "year at Hogwarts" story. Updates will come as often as RL, my time and energy levels will allow--probably more slowly than I would like.