All in the Family

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive.... The only person left outside was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.

Harry Potter was not an ordinary boy, he was a wizard. Ordinary, however, he was by the fact that he was being punished like a normal teenager. He was a wizard. And over breakfast, his Uncle Vernon was just telling his cousin Dudley to get the mail when the mail suddenly floated into the room. As the Dursleys (his aunt, uncle, and cousin's surname) were terrified of magic and outraged by the audacity of having a Wizard in the family, they punished him with every bit of yard-work and chores they could think of. Harry would normally have faced the punishment and said nothing, except for the simple fact that he had done nothing wrong. He had no idea how the post was summoned into the kitchen, but he had had nothing to do with it. He had been outraged by them blaming random phenomena on him. Of course, when they asked him how it had happened, the only response he could think of was, "Search me." He ended his day with the flowerbeds.

"Harry Potter! What are you doing?"

Mrs. Figg (Harry's babysitter from when he was young) was walking up the pathway to the front of the house. When Harry laid down on his back in the flowerbed from exhaustion and dehydration, he hadn't fully realized how odd it would look to passersby.

"Oh, sorry Mrs. Figg. I was just pottering around the plants -- no pun intended -- and I fell on my back. It's been hotter than the Hogwarts greenhouses out here." No sooner than Harry said it did he realize it. He just mentioned Hogwarts to Mrs. Figg.

Then something very odd happened, something that Harry -- even though he had faced some of the most bizarre occurrences in the world within his short four year span in the wizard world -- was completely amazed by.

Old Mrs. Figg picked up her walker and threw it to one side and ran to Harry, grabbed him by his arm and lifted him to his feet. Mrs. Figg was about seventy years old.

"Mrs. Figg?" he asked in utter astonishment.

"Boy, what's your problem? Mentioning our world about like that?"

"WHAT? You're a wit--

"YES! Boy what kind of fool are you? Professor Dumbledore sent me over to see how you were doing, what with You-Know-Who killing people all over the place."

A thought struck Harry.

"Mrs. Figg, what's your first name?"

"Arabella. Why?"

"I knew it! Ever since Voldemort mentioned that Dumbledore put in place a spell that protected me while I was with the Dursleys, I was really suspicious about everybody in the neighborhood, in case there were any wizards apart of it. Then, when Dumbledore started organizing everybody at the end of the school year, when The Ministry spilt off, he mentioned Arabella Figg. I was really suspicious of you."

"Well la-di-dah, how clever of you. But had you been a tad more clever you would have realized that the whole of Privet Drive, excluding Number Four, is a magic household."

"Seriously?"

"Don't you think boy?"

"Mrs. Figg, how old are you?"

"Thirty-seven. This isn't real," she said indicating her face and hair and hunchback.

"How long has this been going on?"

"We all moved in the day after you did."

"But -- How have you kept it from the Dursleys?"

"You've lived with them for fifteen years, you should know. They're duffers, the load of them. Never met anybody so mundane."

Just then the front door opened and Aunt Petunia was standing there.

"Mrs. Figg! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Oh, hello Petunia dear, you look amazing. Never met anybody so pretty. Smart, too. Well, enough bragging about my neighbors. I came to ask you if you could get one of your boys to feed my cats while I'm gone."

"Gone?"

"Oh, right. I'm heading up to see my dear friend Albus in Scotland. I'll be gone indefinitely, but I've stockpiled cat food in the pantry and I've paid the bills for up to a year. Could you just be a doll and take care of that for me?"

"I'll get this little scoundrel to take care of it, if you'd like."

"Thank you dear."

"What was that name, Mrs. Figg?"

"What name?"

Harry stared at Mrs. Figg. He couldn't believe how subtly forward she was being with Petunia.

"Your friend."

Harry gave her a look that said very clearly, Don't say Albus.

"Elba," Mrs. Figg said.

"Oh. I thought you said Albu-- never mind."

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry said, as if scolding her for letting out the family's terrible secret. He was struggling to control laughter on the inside.

"Sorry. Well yes, Harry will take care of it."

"Alright. You had better get that boy inside, too. Hot as it is out here, he could catch his death."

"Right."

Keeping up appearances, Petunia pulled Harry inside so that Mrs. Figg still thought so highly of her.

"Aunt Petunia, you almost let it slip I'm a wizard. Then everybody would know that you were connected to the wizarding world. You don't want that. People will know that you're freaks."

Harry made his way in the kitchen and sidled down in a chair next to Dudley, who had lost an incredible amount of weight in the last month. Over one hundred and fifty pounds. It was amazing.

"Hey, Harry," Dudley said, not taking his eyes off of the TV and continuing to eat his sandwich.

Harry's eyes got huge. He looked unbelievingly at Dudley. "Oh my lord, what the hell? Are you sick?"

"No. Can't I say hi?"

"You could, but I'm not sure why you would."

"What do you want me to do, pelt you with bits of garbage?"

"I could call that Tuesday.

"Whatever."

"DUDLEY! COME UP HERE AND CLEAN THIS BEDROOM!"

Uncle Vernon had a partner from Grunnings visiting the next night and he was making sure that the house was sparkling, from top to bottom. Harry was surprised he wasn't giving them all cavity searches, he was being so thorough. Dudley groaned and got up from his chair.

"COMING!" he said, then muttered, "You fat bastard."

Harry had noticed something strange about Dudley lately, and not the fact that he was losing more weight than . He hated his parents, almost as much as Harry did. They had always given him whatever he wanted though, it was bewildering.

Harry switched the channel on the TV. The news was on and normally he wouldn't have stopped it, but he saw something that made his blood run cold. The Dark Mark.

"When we arrived on the scene, police tape was everywhere, and somehow, the bodies of these people were spinning wildly in the air like tops. Autopsies have since shown that the spinning of the bodies cause blood to pool in the brains. How they were suspended in the air was a mystery. It almost seems like magic."

"That's terrible," said the studio anchor.

"Yes it is Jeannie. There also appears to be a green holographic projection over the house of an open-mouthed skull, and a snake coming from the snake. This is familiar, seen in the mass killings that went on for ten years, and abruptly ended fourteen years ago. Perhaps this is a copycat killer, or maybe the killer has come back for more. Back to you Jeannie."

Harry completely lost his appetite, so much so that he actually vomited in the sink.

Dudley came back into the kitchen.

"Are you done cleaning your bedroom so fast? What did you do, shove everything under your bed?"

"No. I cleaned it. It's done."

"In two minutes?"

"Yeah."

This was also worrying Harry. Something else was getting strange with Dudley, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

That night, Harry was bored and wanted to see Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's response when he came down to the living room and started reading through The Standard Book of Spells. When he went to his trunk, he couldn't find it. Instead he grabbed Quidditch Through the Ages.

"WHAT! IS! THAT?"

Uncle Vernon was looking blotchy and purple, pointing a pudgy finger the size of three normal fingers bundled together at the book.

"A book. I'm allowed to read, right?"

"Of course you can read! But not --"

"I'm not doing magic, am I?"

"No. But --" He didn't know what to say. Maybe he finally realized how stupid he had been to Harry.

"Go to your room!"

"Maybe I should. I've been meaning to write a letter to Sirius."

"Alright, you can stay."

Harry almost felt bad about using Sirius as his trump card, and had told Sirius so in his last letter. By return, he told Harry to have at it. Harry couldn't suppress a smile as he thought about it. Apparently Uncle Vernon realized that Harry saying something with the word Sirius in it was as good as something said by the Queen.

He was tired of listening to Vernon so he went upstairs and lay in bed. His open trunk struck him as odd, because he particularly remembered shutting it. He knew because he has noticed a spot where the leather was wearing away on the top once he closed it. He opened it now and there was Standard Book of Spells, right on top. This was odd, but what was odder...

"My wand!" Harry's wand was gone.

He rushed from the room and tore down the hall.

"Who's been going through my things!" He yelled in the kitchen.

"What are you screaming about, boy?"

"You know damn good and well what! First, my spell book was gone, but when I went back, it was there, on top of my trunk. And now, my wand is gone!"

Vernon looked outraged that he would speak so openly about his abnormality, but Petunia sneered at him.

"Why would we go about stealing your toys?"

Harry wrinkled his nose and made a mean look at Petunia.

"Who else is there?"

Just then, Dudley walked into the room, looking very proud of himself.

"YOU!"

"What?"

The room dimmed as Harry moved in upon Dudley, probably because Harry had light emanating from himself.

"You stole my spellbook. That wasn't so bad, but then you made it person al and you stole my wand! What did you do, try a spell?"

Petunia and Vernon weren't looking angry at all, on the other hand they looked curiously at Dudley.

"Well, I suppose I'd better tell you. I'm a wizard."

Harry actually laughed out loud.

"It's true. The magic first started when these seventh years at Smeltings were pelting things at me and calling me piggy and suddenly everything they threw at me, rocks and trash and things, picked themselves up from the floor all at once and flew through the air, beating the boys to a pulp!"

"Are you joking!?"

Harry looked at him in bewilderment.

"At first, I figured it must have been a dream, or maybe just a hallucination. But it happened again during class. They kept hitting me with their Smelting Sticks. The sticks came out of their hands and beat them like it was a soccer riot. Then I remembered Harry setting that snake on me because I punched him in the ribs. Accidentally using magic as defense. It must have been me, too. Or like when he blew up Aunt Marge.

"Well, I started reading up on magic and all, and I've got all the markings of a wizard. It's all there. I wanted to do a spell though, so I took the spell book and wand. Sorry Harry. I should have asked, but I was afraid you'd say no and I really wanted to."

Harry was lost for words. He felt like he had a family, and because of Dudley no less.

"It's okay! I can't believe it! Another wizard in the family. I'm not sure if you can go to Hogwarts, but I'll send an owl off to Professor McGonagall right away --"

"WAIT!" Vernon bellowed. "Are you telling me, that you're some kind of wizard? Honestly?"

"Yes. Like, I remembered when Mum cut off Harry's hair with a pair of shears and he managed to grow it back overnight by thinking about it. So I thought about losing weight and ever since I've been sweating Crisco. I think I actually look normal now."

Harry turned so that he was facing Petunia and Vernon and threw one arm over Dudley's shoulder.

"Well, how do you like that," Harry asked.

"We'll talk about this later!" Vernon ran upstairs and Aunt Petunia followed.

Harry and Dudley went up to Harry's room.

"Okay, this is a cauldron. You make potions in this. Um... This is called Sneakoscope. It spins and whistles when somebody untrustworthy is around. I had to bundle it up in a pair of socks two years ago because there was an evil rat around."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Can I borrow this?"

"Uh... sure."

"Thanks!"

"And this is Hedwig, my snowy owl. I think you know that part already. She's not just my pet though, she takes my letters, she's also kind of my family. Harry ran a finger affectionately over her head and made baby noises at her.

"Speaking of which, I should write a letter to Professor McGonagall about all of this."

"Who?"

"The Deputy Headmistress of my school. She handles administration and stuff. She should be able to explain this all to us."

"Is she cool?"

"Yeah, bit strict."

"Ah..."

Harry couldn't believe that he and Dudley were sitting in his room, on Privet Drive, talking about wizardry. Like there had never been any discrepancy whatsoever.

Harry read the letter allowed as he scrawled it out on an old bit of parchment with a bit of owl vomit on one corner. He tore of the corner and threw it out the window.

"Dear Professor McGonagall, this is Harry Potter. How are things going with the militia? This is a bit strange, I've never exactly written you a letter.

"My point, however is of my cousin Dudley. He has recently developed magic abilities. I know it is strange for magic to sprout this late in life, so I have no idea what the protocol is here. Could you clarify it for me. By the way, please do not expel me for magic taking place here, he has accidentally performed some magic.

"Sincerely, Harry Potter."

"Great," Dudley said. He was petting Hedwig absentmindedly, and had several white feathers stuck to his sweaty palm. She didn't seem too pleased with the fact that Dudley Dursley was touching her. She hated pretty much everyone but Harry.

Harry held the note in front of Hedwig, and eager to get away from Dudley, she squawked a farewell, clutched the letter in her beak and flew out of the window.

"Don't worry," he said, seeing Dudley's face, "She hates everybody."

Dudley grinned. He had really lost weight.

Apparently the fight had worn out by the morning, but Harry heard the Dursleys arguing all night, well into the wee hours of the morning.

"Dudley, Harry, what would you both like for breakfast," Aunt Petunia asked the next morning.

Dudley had fallen asleep in Harry's room, because he and Harry had been explaining Quidditch to Dudley. Dudley had been extremely excited, and Harry even let him levitate on his Firebolt about three feet off the ground. Dudley fell asleep while reading Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry let him be.

"The usual."

"Come on down in a few minutes."

Breakfast was fantastic.

"Well there's our two wizards! How are you both doing this morning," Vernon asked.

"Fine," they said in unison, matching each others' skeptical tones.

"Good. My business partner is coming over this evening. Nice fellow, a bit nervous, but he's coming over tonight. I'm not mad at either of you, don't worry. If you wouldn't mind though, don't mention the magic thing."

"I hadn't planned on it," Harry said, "As I'm not supposed to mention magic in front of muggles."

"All the same. Please don't."

"Okay."

"Well, I'm glad you're both getting along very well."

"Uh...."

"Thanks."

"Oh, by the way," Harry said, "You two are now the only people on Privet Drive that aren't wizards or witches."

"What's that?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Um, Mrs. Figg, who by-the-way is actually a thirty-eight year old witch, told me yesterday that the entire street is composed of wizard families. Apparently they all moved in the day after I did."

Aunt Petunia nearly fainted away. Uncle Vernon's squinty eyes got very big.

"Well, I'm going to feed Mrs. Figg's cats. I'll be back."

"I'll go with you," Dudley said.

The key to Mrs. Figg's house was under a terra cotta pot that held a plant that Harry recognized as a Mandrake. On the terra cotta pot, it said "Security."

"Don't touch that plant, Dudley. It'll kill you if you pull it out of the soil."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's called a Mandrake. If you pull it out of there, it cries, and to hear the cry is fatal."

"Wow. I can't believe Mrs. Figg is a witch. Well, then again I can't believe I'm a wizard, so Mrs. Figg isn't exactly on top of the list."

Inside, cats belted at Harry and Dudley, mewling loudly. There were so many of them it was hard to keep them stifled. And the pantry was indeed stockpiled. There were more bags of cat food in the pantry than there were boxes of wands in Ollivander's.

They spent the rest of the day cleaning the house with Aunt Petunia for their guest.

It was around seven o' clock at night when they heard an engine shut off in the driveway. It was the first time that Harry had ever been allowed in front of company that wasn't Aunt Marge.

"Come in, come in," said Uncle Vernon. It was a tall man that stood in the doorway.

"This is my nephew Harry, my wife Petunia, and our son Dudley."

Harry took note with a curious look that he was mentioned first.

"Harry, Petunia, Dudley, this is my business associate Mr. Jones."

They all offered some form of greeting. As Mr. Jones entered the house, there was a whistling in the room.

"Is that your cell phone?"

"My cell ph--no, it's not."

"Probably just the pipes, then."

They had a good dinner in which Uncle Vernon told several terrible jokes. Mr. Jones seemed to check his watch a lot, but every time Uncle Vernon hit a punch line he was ready with a loud laugh that seemed a bit put on. The whistling never stopped. Mr. Jones also went to the bathroom a lot. About every forty-five minutes. At one point, Uncle Vernon got into a very long story about an infestation of rats that once plagued the Grunnings office and wouldn't die that Mr. Jones found interesting, and he forgot about his forty-five minute regiment.

Harry noticed it first. In addition to the whistling in the room, there was a metallic tapping. It had replaced the pattern of soft, dull taps that Mr. Jones was making on the base of his wine glass with his fingers. His fingertips were silver, and gradually the rest of his hand got silver. He noticed it too and rose to stand. He rushed to the bathroom.

"All of you," Harry hissed, "That's an evil wizard. I know, his hand is silver. Sneak out the backdoor. Go somewhere, but don't stay here. He's a follower of Voldemort."

Harry ran upstairs to grab his wand. He slid the wand inside his sleeve. Dudley followed.

"No, stay with them."

"You have to come too. If he's trying to kill you," Dudley said.

"No. This guy is mine. He sold my parents out to Voldemort, he's going to die." Harry grabbed his wand and in his mind he thought the words Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra over and over in his head.

"Harry, it's not worth it. Come with us. Now."

"No, Dudley, it is worth it. Harry ran downstairs, and Peter Pettigrew stood with several masked Death Eaters at the back door, Petunia and Vernon bound with ropes on the ground. Among the Death Eaters was also, making Harry's blood run cold, the snakish form of Lord Voldemort.

"YOU!" Harry screamed, a burning sensation rising in his scar.

"Yes, yes Harry, how pleasant to see you again. Unfortunately you escaped our last run in, but no... not again. Harry didn't wait for an invitation. He wasn't going to let Voldemort hold off with more questions this time. He wasn't going to let Dudley be the next Cedric.

The name ran ice through his veins. As he heard the voice of Voldemort, he saw the dead eyes of Cedric Diggory staring at him as Cedric's body lay dead in a cemetery in Harry's head. Harry shook the thought.

Harry also had a trump card to play.

"Tom, you know we can't duel, due to the fact that our wands share cores. They both have the feathers of Dumbledore's phoenix."

Voldemort stood there. He hated the name Tom, and to be called it by none other than his worst enemy ...

"Yes, I know. But if we were to use Wormtail's wand, there would be no problem."

Harry hadn't thought of this, and let the wand slip from his sleeve and into his hand. "Dudley, when you see the light, run at them and knock them all out the door, then get out of the way," he muttered under his breath so that only Dudley could hear it. The Death Eaters didn't hear, they were too busy laughing because they thought that Harry was merely standing there dumbfounded by the simple idea of using another wand.

"LUMOS!" The light blinded the Death Eaters, and Harry and Dudley rushed at them. They were completely accosted. They all crashed through the back door. Dudley ran back inside to untie his parents.

"Time to die, Tom," Harry held his wand pointed at Voldemort, lying on the ground, "AVADA--"

But Voldemort disapparated.

"DAMN IT!"

Harry turned to attack Wormtail, but he too disapparated. Apparently the Death Eaters wouldn't do anything without Voldemort's orders, so they all vanished.

Harry was mad that they all got away, but was thankful that the Dursleys were okay and he was fine.

As he helped Dudley with his aunt and uncle, a tawny owl swooped in the open back door and dropped a letter onto the kitchen counter, then swooped out again.

"I can't believe it!" Harry yelled. "I'm facing expulsion from Hogwarts! For magic taking place at Number Four Privet Drive. That's it. I have to go to the Weasleys'. You guys can't risk them coming back, go to Aunt Marge's or someplace. Anywhere but here. You can go to the hut on the rock for all I care, but get out of here. Next time, they'll kill you, or torture you. Possibly both."

"I know what that whistling was," Dudley said as Harry packed his trunk. He held the Sneakoscope out to him, "I forgot it was in my pocket."

"That's okay. Can you make sure I got everything from that loose floorboard over there?"

Harry carried his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage next door to the neighbors' house.

"Can I use your fire place?"

"Harry Potter? Sure. I suppose you found out we're all wizards and witches on this street?"

"Mrs. Figg told me. But the Dursleys are leaving and I have to get to the Weasleys' because Voldemort and the Death Eaters attacked us tonight. They disapparated."

"Are you serious? A Death Eater attack at number four?"

"Yes. Now please, can I use your fire place?"

"Of course, of course." Harry stepped inside the house lugging his trunk and the empty cage. He stepped into the fire, dropped the floo powder and said, "The Burrow."