Harry Potter and the Crystal of the Founders

Previously: Harry starts the day badly, Hedwig returns with several letters for Harry, and he gets a visit from several members of the Order of the Phoenix almost immediately, but has a good first week at Noah's Ark, and discovers something interesting about Mark Evans.

Chapter Two:

A Secret for Two

Harry was dismayed. He had accidentally revealed his magic, and in a public Muggle place, too. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, then opened them and said softly, "My wand. Give me back my wand."

Mark only stared at him, frightened, confused, and shocked. Harry thrust the letter at Mark, expecting the younger boy to take it and return the wand.

"Mark, give it back to him and let's go!" urged his mother, throwing Harry a dirty look.

"Take the letter if you want it, or don't," said Harry impatiently, right after she finished. "Doesn't matter, if you don't answer it, you'll just get another one, but I need my wand, and I can't get another."

Still stunned, Mark held out the holly wand timidly; Harry snatched it back, and dropped the Hogwarts letter into Mark's hand. "Thank you," he snapped, shoved his wand in his back pocket, turned, picked up the bag of dog food, which he had dropped, and stalked into the back room to put the food away, in a sudden bad temper for no good reason.

*

On Friday came the worst part of his summer. Harry had just come in the door, home from work, when Vernon lunged out of the living room, grabbed him by the shoulder, and dragged him forward, pointing to the coffee table. "That bird came for you hours ago," he growled.

A very angry looking raven was sitting on the table, feathers puffed up, clicking its beak menacingly. Glossy black feathers were scattered all over the floor, and Harry could see that Uncle Vernon's hands bore the marks of the raven's talons.

Then the bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach. Tied to the raven's leg was a black envelope, with an official looking crest stamped into the white sealing wax.

Harry took the envelope from the raven, which swooped out the open window immediately, very glad to be leaving, and broke the seal with trembling fingers. He read it in silence, becoming more angry and depressed as he did so.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are sorry to inform you of the death of Sirius Black, your god-father. He was murdered by You-Know-Who's followers sometime last month, for reasons unknown. There was no Dark Mark or body found, but under the influence of Veritaserum, one Lucius Malfoy confessed to having seen Bellatrix Lestrange perform the Avada Kedavra curse on Mr. Black. Mr. Black's will is in the possession of Albus Dumbledore, your Headmaster. The will must be signed by you within the next two months for you to receive your inheritance.

Deepest apologies, Amelia Bones,

Head of Magical Law Enforcement

Ministry of Magic

Harry stared at the letter, not really seeing it. "Can't even have the decency to say Voldemort," he hissed. "Of course he was murdered by Voldemort's followers!" Harry bellowed suddenly, making Vernon and Petunia shrink away from him. "Are there any other mad power-crazy lunatics with homicidal followers running around Britain?"

Savagely, he crumpled up the black envelope and letter, threw them onto the floor, and stalked upstairs. He slammed the door shut behind him and flung himself onto his bed, making it creak under the sudden impact. To his surprise, no tears came to his eyes; he felt only rage. Bits of the letter swam in front of his eyes, making him blink.

...Sirius Black, your god-father... murdered by You-Know-Who's followers... the Avada Kedavra curse... Mr. Black's will... Deepest apologies...

Harry sneered at the ceiling. "Deepest apologies..." he muttered. "Yeah, right."

His door creaked open. Uncle Vernon was standing in the doorway, holding the crumpled and bent letter. He was smiling horribly, pleased about something. "So," he hissed through clenched teeth, still smiling. "He's dead. Your precious god-father is dead. He can't protect you anymore, now, can he?"

A question was halfway out of Harry's mouth when Vernon crossed the room in three strides, hauled him up off the bed by the collar, and sank his overlarge fist into Harry's stomach.

Harry gasped and doubled over, and then he saw stars as Vernon threw him into the wall. Harry slid down the wall, trying feebly to protect himself from the fists that were crashing down on his body, but to no avail.

Eventually he simply curled up on the floor, trying not to cry out as his uncle kicked him over and over again. Harry lost track of time, barely conscious, until Vernon grabbed him by the shirt collar again, hauled him off the floor, and threw him onto his bed.

"Don't tell your friends, now," Uncle Vernon snarled, and then the room tilted crazily in Harry's vision, and he passed out.

Harry woke up several hours later, stiff and sore. The sky outside his window was black, and so he rolled off his bed and limped to his wardrobe mirror quietly, biting his bottom lip to fight back a screech of pain. Lying on his bed was one thing, walking was another.

His face was a mess of bruises, his hair tangled and matted with a mixture of tears and blood. His top lip was split in two places, he had a cut over his right eyebrow, and a cut almost three inches long running through his hair; the rest of his face was puffy and discolored, from a mildly irritating light red to an extremely painful dark purple patch on his jaw.

Harry slowly took off his stained shirt, wincing as his muscles screamed in protest. He couldn't hold back a gasp as he was greeted with the tapestry of blood, cuts and bruises that was his chest. He could barely see any normal colored skin beneath all the red, blue and brown. His back, shoulders, arms, and legs had not fared any better. Harry gingerly touched his chest, then jerked his hand away. He definitely had a few broken ribs.

Harry was quivering with exhaustion and pain, and so he staggered back to his bed and collapsed onto it, falling asleep almost instantly.

Saturday dawned sunny and, as always, hot. Harry was woken by the harsh grate of his alarm clock. He managed to turn it off after a few seconds, his finger leaving a red mark on the white button.

He slipped into the bathroom, and took a quick shower, making sure sure to wash away all traces of blood from his hair and skin. He looked a bit better than the night before, when he examined himself in the steamy mirror. The absence of blood was an improvement, and some of the swelling had disappeared from the smaller bruises.

Coming out of the bathroom, Harry almost ran into his uncle. He looked down at the floor, and slipped past Vernon carefully, trying to avoid being hurt anymore. He almost succeeded, but still received another punch on his back, making him stagger sideways into the wall.

Harry put his blood-stained shirt, pants, and sheets into his laundry hamper, his movements still slow and jerky. Carefully, he pulled on a pair of baggy jeans and an over-large shirt before going to deal with the list of chores he knew Aunt Petunia would have ready for him. As he was reaching for the doorknob, however, something caught his eye. It was the source of his troubles, the letter, stuffed roughly into the crumpled black envelope. Uncle Vernon must have dropped it yesterday, Harry thought.

Smiling crookedly, Harry picked up the letter and tucked it into his pocket, not quite knowing why he didn't simply throw it away at the same time.

The temperature rose almost to 30 degrees before lunchtime, and as Harry looked up from the new flowerbed he was planting, he could see heat waves rising off the cement garden bricks in the back yard.

Through the window on the back door he could see Dudley sitting at the table inside, devouring a huge bowl of ice cream, sneering at him.

Harry turned his attention back to the pansies he was planting. He heard the doorbell ring a few minutes later, but ignored it, thinking it was one of Dudley's friends.

Harry was shocked when the back door opened and someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, shielding his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun. Remus Lupin was standing in beside him, looking down at the sweating boy.

Harry realized that looking directly at Remus was a mistake, when Remus grabbed his arms and pulled him up, face hard. His eyes flicked over the assorted injuries on Harry's face, and he would not let Harry go. "Who did this to you?" he hissed.

Harry avoided his gaze, looking at the ground. Lupin released Harry's arm, and placed his fingers under Harry's chin, forcing the fifteen year-old to look at him. "Who did this to you?" he repeated, his tone concerned now.

Harry suddenly thought of how it would feel if he told Remus, and Remus told the Order. Yes, he would probably leave Privet Drive, but a lot of people would know about the reason, and he would get those glances, that pity, all that attention he didn't want. Wasn't that always how it was? He, Harry, got into trouble, and somebody had to come fix those mistakes. Someone else took care of things. He never fixed his own problems or pulled his own weight. At least, that was how Harry saw it. Harry hesitated for a moment before making up his mind decisively and replying, "I got in a fight."

Remus continued studying him for a moment before he lowered his arm and nodded, though he still looked suspicious. They were both silent for a moment before Lupin said, "I came to talk to you."

They both sat down in the shade under a leafy elm tree, Lupin leaning back against the shaggy bark. Harry's back was still too sore to do this, though he didn't show it. After a moment, Remus said, "Tonks told me you think I blame you for what happened to Sirius."

Harry's breath caught in his throat, but he swallowed, and said, "I thought you did. Don't you?"

Remus shook his head. "I don't blame you at all, Harry. Sirius made a promise to Lily and James, before they died, that if anything happened to them, he would always protect you. He died in battle, protecting you, and that's the only way to go. I'd die to protect you as well, Harry."

Harry felt tears prickling his eyes, and he hastily blinked them away. "Don't say that, please. I'm never going to make that necessary, ever. I swear," he whispered. Remus gave him a small smile.

"You can't always choose those things," he said.

They sat for a few minutes more, then Harry ventured a question. "Professor Lupin, the letter I got from the Ministry, it said that Sirius was killed by the Avada Kedavra Curse. Is that true?"

Remus ran a hand through his sandy hair, then shook his head. "No Harry, it was just a Stunner. It was the veil that killed him. Lucius Malfoy only said that it was Avada Kedavra because Dumbledore Modified his memory, and planted a false memory. To all the Death Eaters, Sirius was never there."

"Not all the Death Eaters were captured, though," Harry objected, finding the flaw immediately. "Or did Dumbledore just break into the Death Eater Headquarters and change all their memories too? And what about Voldemort? What about the fact that there wasn't a body?"

Lupin smiled slightly. "Quick, aren't you? It took me a while to realize that. No, Harry, but it's not like those Death Eaters who weren't caught are going to go to the Ministry and tell them he fell through the veil. I'll clarify this: to every Death Eater who was caught, Sirius was never there. And the Ministry doesn't seem to care where Sirius's body is; a person can't lie under the influence of Veritaserum, and word was good enough, apparently."

There was a silence as Harry thought this over, then came up with another question.

"But if Lucius Malfoy said Sirius had been killed by Bellatrix, then how could they believe that he wasn't there?"

Remus blinked, surprised. "Oh, you are good. I knew you were smart, Harry, but this is amazing how you can come up with these problems in just a few seconds. The thing is, none of the Death Eaters were present at Malfoy's questioning. What Dumbledore made Malfoy believe was that he and Bellatrix cornered Sirius in a room, alone, before anyone else saw him, she killed him, and they left."

"I miss him," Harry whispered. Lupin nodded sadly.

"I do too," he said. "Harry, you never got a chance to really say good-bye, did you?"

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "No. The last time I really spoke to him was Christmas. I barely got a chance to talk to him before we left."

"Sirius's funeral is tomorrow, Harry. If you wanted to come..."

Lupin trailed off, leaving the invitation open. Harry looked up at him. "Are you coming, Professor?" Harry asked. Remus nodded.

"Yes, I'm coming. How could I not? The funeral is in Hogsmeade. There's a grave there, even though there's no-" he broke off, and swallowed, then bravely continued, "-body. It's right next to Lily and James."

Harry took several deep breaths, willing himself not to cry. "I never knew their graves were in Hogsmeade," he said, his voice shaking. Then he ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it came in contact with the cut on his scalp. "How many people are going to be there?" he asked.

"Almost the entire Order," replied Lupin. "Dumbledore is going to say a few words, then he wants some other people to speak, including me and you."

"I- I can't make a speech," he stammered. Lupin half smiled.

"No, Harry, you heard me wrong. I said a few words, not a speech. Something from the heart. I'm sure you can find something to say. Just what you feel."

Harry sighed. "I feel a lot, Professor. I don't like very much of it," he admitted.

Lupin rested a hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Harry, it's been two years since I last taught you. I wish you would call me Remus, or Moony."

Harry smiled. "I'll do that, Remus. So," he continued, changing the subject, "What're these problems at the Headquarters? McGonagall said I couldn't come early 'cause of them."

Remus rubbed his chin. "She said problems? Well, they're not exactly problems. Everyone's constantly out on missions. The last real meeting was, uh, almost a month ago. Charlie, Bill, Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, Hestia Jones, Daedalus Diggle, and lots of others are constantly out trying to create links with other countries, enlist the help of foreign wizards and find out how wide-spread Voldemort is; other teams are constantly fighting Death Eaters; Aurors like Moody and Tonks barely get any rest.

"Hagrid, Madame Maxime and I just got back from trying to recruit the giants. It didn't go so badly, actually. Another new Gurg, willing to listen. Also speaks English, and is pretty popular with the tribe. I figure we got about thirty of them with us."

Harry let out a low whistle, then licked his lips as the split started bleeding again. "Thirty? Remus, that's great."

Remus smiled, pleased. "That's what Dumbledore thought, too. Point is, there's barely anyone around Headquarters anymore, and nobody that can constantly be there, we couldn't leave you there, alone, so you had to wait. Except now I'm back. I can't do any missions other than the giants, because of my lycanthrope, and the next one's not for a while. So I get to stay at Headquarters with you guys."

"Who's 'you guys,' Remus?" asked Harry, curious.

Lupin counted off his fingers. "Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Fred and George- they joined the Order- and, oh yeah, Luna. Plus you."

Harry smiled. "I guess it won't be so bad, after all. Sure, Remus, I'll come to the- funeral with you. Thanks for coming to talk to me."

Remus hesitated for a second, then said, "Harry, I know I'm not a replacement for Sirius, and I don't want to be, but if you ever need to talk, just write to me. OK?"

"Sure, I will."

Lupin didn't move, then sighed and rubbed his temple. "Harry," he began and Harry didn't like his tone at all. "If something was wrong, you would tell me, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry cautiously, after a moment.

Remus looked him in the eye, and Harry swallowed. "And you're sure there's nothing you need to tell me," he said, making Harry wince, inwardly. He knew that something was wrong. But Harry shook his head. He didn't need or want help to deal with his uncle, and he wouldn't ask for any or accept any.

The werewolf stared him straight in the eye. "Let me put this bluntly, Harry," he said flatly. "You're lying to me."

Harry gaped at him. Lupin had never used that tone, that he had heard of. The older man continued their staring contest in silence.

"Well?" snapped Harry, after a moment. "Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

"No. I'm sure you'll tell me if you want to."

"Why were you asking me so much, then?" Harry asked, confused and surprised.

"Because I wanted you to know that I do know you're lying, and it only makes me more suspicious that you feel you have to cover it up. Aside from that, I doubt you could have got those cuts and bruises from a fight, unless it was two or three against you, and neither do I think you have the inclination to get into a fight."

Harry was silent for another moment, and then made his decision. "Remus, if I tell you, you have to swear you'll keep it a secret."

"As long as it's not life-threatening, I will."

"And you won't tell anybody at all."

"If anyone asks specifically, I'll tell them."

"If Dumbledore asks, tell him. Nobody else," Harry insisted, bargaining for acceptable terms. Remus pondered this for a while, then nodded.

"You aren't going to like it, Remus, but keep your promise, OK?"

"I will, Harry."

Harry told him. He didn't like it.

He was silent for a few seconds after Harry finished his story. Harry sat uneasily, watching Remus.

"That- horrible-"

Lupin seemed to be struggling to speak through tightly gritted teeth, and fighting to control his temper. Even those two muffled words showed how very uncharacteristically angry he was. Remus put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and trying to gather his calm again.

"Was there a reason you didn't tell me right out?" he demanded.

"Because I don't want help, and I don't think it's something for you to worry about."

Remus stared at Harry. "Not something to worry about?" he asked incredulously. "Harry, it is. We warned him to treat you well, and he just went and- urgh!" Lupin gave a growl of frustration. "We warned him. I can't believe anybody could be so stupid as to-"

"Remus," Harry interrupted, "I'm fine, alright? There's nothing to worry over. I didn't tell you because I didn't want anybody freaking out over this, and you're doing just that. I can deal with it. I want to do this on my own, I don't need somebody to babysit me all the time-"

"Harry!" said Lupin sharply. Harry fell silent, and he continued in a softer voice. "I'm not saying you should be taken care of like that, and I know you can do things on your own, I just don't think you should have to 'deal with it'. I'll keep my promise, but if this happens even once more, I will inform the Order. I don't like this at all, but I'll leave it to you, if that's what you want. If it's too much, tell me, write, I'll help you any time you need, OK? I did promise to take care of you, and I will."

"I'll write," Harry promised, meaning it.

"Why, though?" mused Remus, brow knitted. "We warned him. We told him to treat you well, and he was terrified. He should have listened!"

Harry shrugged. "It might be for any number of reasons," he said softly. "The raven had apparently been there for hours, waiting for me, and Uncle Vernon hates having owls and the like in the house. It clawed him when he tried to take the letter. Maybe it was because he'd found out Sirius was dead. I was yelling after I read the letter. It might have even been because you threatened my aunt and uncle at Kings Cross. I know there are other kids who live around here that take Muggle school trains home, and their families meet them there. Some of them might have overheard what happened. He hates being embarrassed. I guess there's only so much a person can take."

"So did we make things better or worse when we gave your relatives a talking-to?" asked Remus, more as a question for himself. Harry shrugged, then changed the topic.

"Hey, Remus? Did my mum have a sister? Other than my Aunt Petunia, I mean."

Remus frowned. "Why would you think that?" he asked.

Harry told him about the Evans's, his suspicion about the last name, and how Mark had gotten a letter. Lupin stared at him, stunned, his mouth slightly open.

"My god," he said softly.

"Er... what?"

"Lily, and Petunia- they did have a sister, a younger one. Lily was the oldest, Petunia was the middle, and Chandra was the youngest. She loved Lily, while Petunia hated her. They spent a lot of time together, Chandra came to Lily and James's wedding, she was great friends with all of us, she knew all about the magical world. After we graduated Hogwarts, she visited Lily all the time," Remus swallowed. "We dated for a while, her and I. But after your parents were killed, Chandra kind of disappeared. I haven't heard from her since then, and I'd almost forgotten about her. But I suppose- well, yes, this might be her. Light red hair, kind of strawberry blonde? Blue-green eyes?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's her."

Remus sighed. "Wow," he said. "Funny how things come back even after you think they're long gone. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was more than coincidence."

"But she said it was a prank," Harry objected. "Like she never knew, or maybe she forgot. Though I can't see anybody forgetting about the magical world."

"Maybe Chandra doesn't want to remember. I mean, she had to have known the Lily was killed for magical reasons, and they were close. I imagine she wouldn't want to put- Mark, did you say?- into a world like that. She might not even know that Voldemort left at all, besides noticing that there weren't any more of those killings."

Lupin lapsed into silence. Harry stared across the yard, a gleam coming into his eyes as he got the beginnings of an idea.

"Listen, swear that you'll write to me," Remus said, shaking out of his thoughts and looking at Harry. "As often as you can. Don't make up any lies, don't omit any truth. If I think anything is wrong, I will come over here to check. Please, don't write those vague letters addressed to everybody, I want to know what's happening. Even just a PS to me would be fine."

Harry nodded. Remus stood, helped Harry up, then brushed off his own shabby wizard's robes.

Lupin hesitated again, then wrapped his arms around Harry and hugged him. Harry tried to hide his wince as his chest exploded in pain, but Remus caught it. For a moment he studied Harry, then he pulled out his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Eblantus Articulo! Lealhan!"

All the pain in Harry's body vanished, and he felt a slight prickling on his face and scalp as all the bruises and cuts vanished. Unfortunately, only the wounds on his face healed, because Remus didn't know about the others. Harry couldn't feel the rest at the moment though, so that was OK.

Harry hugged Remus again, muttering, "Thanks, Remus." Lupin tucked his wand back into his pocket, ruffled Harry's hair, then said, "Write me if you need to. I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, when I come to pick you up for the funeral."

Remus gave Harry a last smile, glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then pulled an old, broken quill out of his pocket, muttered, "Activate. Three, two, one," and disappeared.

Harry smiled back, even though Remus was already gone.

"Excellent," he murmured, the gleam in his eyes becoming sharper as the details of his idea clarified. Still imagining, Harry got back onto his hands and knees, and finished planting the garden absentmindedly, caught up in his thoughts.

*

Tap. Tap, tap. Tap.

Mark Evans looked up from his book, searching for the source of the sound. His parents looked up too, from their own occupations. Mark spotted it: the owl, just visible in the dim firelight coming from the fireplace, sitting on the window sill outside, pecking the window to be let in.

Mark jumped up, dropping his book in the armchair, crossed the room, and opened the window. The snowy white bird fluttered in, but didn't perch on his arm as he had thought it would. Instead, it crossed the room, landed lightly on the arm of the couch beside his mother, and dropped a folded piece of paper in her lap. Then it flew back across the room to Mark, perching on his arm. He stared at the pale bird that was sitting so comfortably on his arm, gazing calmly back at him, as if this were normal.

His mother gingerly picked up the thin paper, unfolded it, and stared at the writing inside, written in pen.

"Mum?" asked Mark, after a moment.

She didn't move, but her blue-green eyes looked over the writing again. And again. "Goodness," she said breathlessly. "I never realized."

"Realized what, Chandra?" asked her husband, frowning in confusion. For a few moments, the only sound in the living room was the crackle of the flames in the grate, but then she looked up at her son.

"Get your letter, Mark."

He did, the snowy owl flying off his arm to perch on the mantle of the fireplace, where she waited like a small ghost.

She took the letter from her son, hushing his protest, and read it, then glanced back at the other letter.

"Well, it seems I have a pair of nephews, and a wizard son."

"But mum, you said-"

"I was wrong, Mark. I was very wrong."

"So I've got- cousins? And you have-"

"A pair of sisters, yes."

"How come I've never met them?" he asked rather indignantly.

"You have, Mark, look."

She handed him the paper. He stared at it wordlessly. "Why couldn't I have had good cousins?" he groaned after a moment, throwing himself back into his chair. "Man..."

The paper showed two names at the very top: Jaqueline and Lewis Evans. Those two names were connected to three of the six names below by single lines. Each pair was connected by a double line; the first pair was Lily Evans and James Potter. The second was Petunia Evans and Vernon Dursley. The third was Chandra and Hugh Evans.

Below the first pair of names, connected to them by a single line was Harry Potter. Below the second pair was Dudley Dursley, and under the third pair of names was Mark Evans.

"So I've got one cousin who beats me up all the time, an Aunt and Uncle who refuse to do anything about it, and another cousin who goes to Saint Brutus's? Wow, this is just great. Perfect," said Mark sarcastically, then studied the family tree again. "What about Potter's parents, though?"

Mrs. Evans smiled sadly. "Lily and James were murdered, Mark. The thing about them is, they were a witch and a wizard, and unless I'm very wrong, so is their son."

"No," he gasped. "Absolutely not."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me, then?" he cried.

Chandra sighed. "I didn't want you in that world, Mark, I thought it would be too dangerous."

"What world, dear?" asked Hugh, still confused.

"The wizarding world. My sister's world. Mark's world."

Without another word, she stood, and left the room, returning moments later with a very dusty photo album. "This world," she finished, brushing the dust off the cover and opening it. Her family moved to sit on the couch, on either side of her, and gasped.

"They're moving," Mark said, awed, and touched the aged photograph on the first page. It had six people in it, all teenagers; a short, slightly chubby boy with blue eyes, beside him was a taller, handsome man with long black hair; next, a thin sandy haired man with sharp amber eyes, he had his arm around a younger girl with light reddish blonde hair and blue-green eyes. Beside her was another woman, who was taller and older, but had the same face shape and delicate body. Her hair was much more red, and her eyes were brilliant green. The man beside the second woman had cheeky hazel eyes behind his round glasses, and black hair that stuck up defiantly in all directions.

"Is that you, Chandra?" asked Hugh, watching the beaming people in the picture. She smiled.

"Oh, yes. That is me. I was fifteen when this was taken; the rest of them were eighteen. That's Remus Lupin beside me, I think. I dated him for a few months, even though he was a wizard and I wasn't."

"He doesn't look like a wizard," said Mark, also staring at the photo.

"They don't often look like the stereotypical images of magic, otherwise we would have found out about them by now. All those people are magical, except me. That's my sister, Lily, and her husband, James; they weren't married yet, though."

Chandra turned the page, showing more photographs of those six people, mostly of Lily, James, Remus Lupin, and the handsome man, though others also had Chandra and the blue-eyed boy.

"I could go through this for hours," sighed Chandra, but closed the book. "My point is, there is magic, and you seem to be a wizard, Mark. Your letter is just like the one Lily got."

"Why didn't you tell me, though? How could this be dangerous?" asked Mark, confused and excited.

"Mark, my sister and her husband were murdered by a Dark wizard. He killed hundreds of people, and from what I understood, his followers killed many more. Hugh, you remember about sixteen or seventeen years back, all those disappearances and killings nobody could explain? That hologram of a snake and skull over that houses and buildings that didn't go away for days? That was that Dark wizard.

"I didn't want to send you into a world like that, Mark. Not where you could be hurt or killed. From what I heard from Lily, things were very bad; their government was dissolving, everything was a mess, you couldn't trust anybody and lots of people were joining up with the Dark side. I just didn't want that for you.

"I never made the connection between Lily and James Potter, and Harry Potter; I didn't get to know Petunia Dursley after we moved here so I never realized that she was my sister. I just never thought there would be so much of that life left for me."

There was a stunned silence after she finished.

"Finding out that there's magic is weird enough," said Mark, staring at the album his mother was holding, "but finding out that I have cousins, you have sisters, there was a war, a Dark wizard, that one of your sisters was a witch, and that her son is a wizard is way stranger. You know that, right?"

Chandra smiled, laughing quietly. "I know. It was strange when Lily got her letter. Stranger when I saw her son."

"Why?"

"Because he looked just like James, with Lily's eyes. And he did what's called sparking. You first sparked when you were nine, Mark; remember when you accidentally made the light bulb shatter without touching it? Most magical children spark around six or seven. Harry wasn't even a year old, and he turned all the water to Sprite. Lily told me it wasn't the first time he'd done something odd."

"Is that good or bad for him?"

"I'm not sure, Hugh. Lily never did explain that. What I'm saying is that I know what you mean, Mark, magic is wierd."

There was another silence, broken buy Mark's hopeful question. "So can I go to Hogwarts?"

Both his parents smiled: Mark was actually asking to go to school. They glanced at each other, and Chandra nodded.

A low hooting came from across the room, where the white owl was still perched patiently on the mantle, forgotten. With a quick rush of air, she glided over to the three people and held out her leg. In her talons she was holding two scrolls of heavy parchment, which she dropped into Mark's hand. She then waited on the arm of the couch, gazing at them and waiting for them to do something.

Puzzled, Mark unrolled one parchment and read it aloud.

Mark,

I'm not sure whether or not your mum has told you about the letter I sent her, but I hope she did. If so, then she probably also told you a bit about the wizarding world. I'm really hoping that she'll say that you can go to Hogwarts. It's really amazing. Maybe I'll see you there in September.

From what I surmised from overhearing your conversation with your mum, you never got directions to Diagon Alley, where you can get your school supplies, so I wrote to the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He sent me a reply addressed to you, and I'm forwarding it. I never read it, so I have no idea what's inside.

If you're not going to Hogwarts, then by all means, please disregard this letter completely and feel free to consider me a nutter, if you don't already.

Harry Potter

"Well, maybe he's OK," admitted Mark. "Maybe. At least he has a sense of humor."

And he unrolled the second scroll, which was indeed addressed to Mr. M. Evans in emerald green ink.

Dear Mr. Evans,

I firstly would like to apologise for the mistake I made with your acceptance letter, and I assure you it has never happened before. There should have been instructions on how to get into Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies, but I was informed by Mr. Potter that there were no such instructions. Therefore, I offer my apologies for your possible and probable confusion.

However, this mistake can be easily remedied: Mr. Potter is the only other wizard in your immediate area, but fortunately he can tell you much of what you need to know, including how to get to Diagon Alley. I have given instructions to his owl, Hedwig, to wait for a response from you before returning home, and I suggest that you request that Mr. Potter show you to Diagon Alley. I am certain he will agree to help you. I have also enclosed fare for the Knight Bus, to make up for my prior mistake.

If you choose not to ask for Mr. Potter's guidance, simply write to him for directions to Diagon Alley, and he will send them to you.

Happy holidays,

Albus Dumbledore

"Well, that fixes our problem, doesn't it?" said Chandra bracingly. "We can ask Harry to show us to Diagon Alley."

"Er, mum? Do we have to?"

"Mark, has he ever done anything to you?"

"Um... no, but-"

"Other than the fact his relatives said he goes to Saint Brutus's, do you have any reason to dislike Harry?"

"I don't, but-"

"He just wrote to the Hogwarts headmaster for us. Why not?"

"But he- because-"

Both his parents watched him with raised eyebrows as Mark struggled to come up with a reason that hadn't been shot down already, and discovered that there wasn't one.

"You are way too trusting, you know that?"

"Perhaps. Either way we do this, we will get to Diagon Alley, and I'm more willing to trust this because I know for a fact that Harry's a wizard, and because my sister was a witch. So write back to him."

Mark sighed. "Fine, fine," he grumbled quietly, but picked up a piece of paper and a pen, and scribbled out a response. His mother read it and nodded. Hedwig fluttered over and held out her leg for the paper obligingly; when Mark handed it to her, she closed her talons around it and took off out the window, winging into the night, a pale shadow in the dark.