Harry Potter and the Icemaidens

Life at Beckery Hill went on . . .

Rose developed quickly for a magical child born, in part, thanks to the ultimate sacrifice of a powerful wizard who gladly gave all he had in magic and life to ensure she would have a place in this world. She began to teethe at three months, could walk upright on her feet by ten, was speaking her first clear words at eleven months and became potty-trained by eighteen months. Noting this, Hamilton St. John could only conclude that, somehow, the magic Rose had inherited from Glaston was forcing her own magic - and, by extension, everything about her body -- to mature much faster than what was normal even for a budding young witch.

(Unknown to the doctor, four families living in mansions across England were discovering the very same thing about their own children . . . much to the total delight of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy concerning their niece Cassiopeia; to say anything of how Augusta Longbottom was reacting to what was happening with her granddaughter Grace!)

And for a witch that was living in a place like Beckery Hill . . .

. . . her magical life was even MORE magical.

Lily Potter never learned in her short time at the Reevetor Somerset that the Garden of the Galaxy to the east of the tower was actually a magical gateway that could allow travellers to penetrate to other dimensions. The site of the Traveller's return to his own dimension in the summer of 1939, it was normally used these days to form a bridge between Earth and the Mundus Magicus, the magical world discovered by Glaston Tore and Ryuuji Hirosaki three years earlier while both were attending Hogwarts. While that discovery WAS a known historical fact to the wizarding world (one could look it up in Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, available at Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley), what happened in the wake of that discovery was lost to the history books thanks to the war with Gellert Grindelwald that corresponded with World War Two. Which is how King George VI wanted it when he had learned of the construction of the Garden and even toured the place in 1939, staying there several days during and after Ryuuji's final departure for his home dimension . . .

. . . and the first ever meeting between the natives of Earth and the natives of another planet (not just another dimension's Earth) in recorded history.

Many times would Rose watch from her bedroom or living room window as the rune markings on the trilithons of the Garden lit up, a space warp appearing over the patio to soon allow strange humanoid beings to walk onto the grounds to be greeted by people who actually lived in the Reevewick or had teleported there from elsewhere in Britain (usually from Gringotts) or beyond. Seeing the many different magical species -- on the Mundus Magicus, they were individually called "Tribes" -- that came through her own east yard, Rose was soon impressed by their intelligence, friendliness and willingness to accept the magical beings native to Earth like centaurs, goblins and house elves in the spirit of equality no different than the culture shown in that American science-fiction television series she got totally hooked on when Tamara, one of her elves, brought in a television so Rose can watch the local channels and she got a chance to see episodes of Star Trek rerun on BBC2.

Of course, as Rose was the woman who would one day inherit the position of her "Grandpa Glaston" and run everything at Reevetor/Reevewick Somerset -- Rose learned of the man who had saved her life thanks to a variation of the magical painting concept which had been loaded into the runes of the scrying room on the second floor of the tower -- she would often be brought from the tower to meet the people who lived in or near the Reevewick, not to mention those who were passing through on their way elsewhere. Those that actually lived close to Rose became her honorary "uncles" and "aunts" ("grand-uncles" and "grant-aunts" for those of more advanced age), which made many of them -- especially those who weren't human -- feel warm in their hearts as they found themselves hugged by a little red-haired, green-eyed bundle of joy.

Even the feared goblin director Erlking -- who often went out of his way to make others NOT like him! -- was totally gobsmacked when Rose had hugged him and called him "Uncle Erlking" right in front of Chief Director Ragnok himself the day the leader of Gringotts' British branch had come to the Garden to greet the Chief Sorcerer of the Magical Academic City of Ariadne (the Mundus Magicus' main centre of learning), Master Eric Hornhill, one day after her third birthday in the spring of 1985.

Of course, Erlking then got the chance to see his own boss be gobsmacked -- and right in front of a madly-grinning Chief Sorcerer Hornhill! -- when Rose then went to him, gave him a big hug and kiss on the cheek, and then called him "Grand-uncle!"

Sometime later, a STILL-blushing Ragnok called together his directors in his office at Diagon Alley and immediately declared Rose Potter a "True Goblin Friend." "Anyone who does THAT to ME of all goblins in the world - and calls me THAT, too! -- is someone we want on our side!" he loudly declared as he tried his best not to grin.

Fortunately for him, his subordinates clearly understood his feelings.

They ALL had met Rose at one time or another . . .

* * *

It was not all sweetness and light at Beckery Hill, of course.

As Rose matured, many people who lived in the Reevewick soon discovered that the redhead had inherited something that seemed quite common to all with her hair colour.

Rose Potter had a TEMPER.

And it could explode without much provocation.

And it would be one particular outburst that would provoke her first open show of accidental magic to all those who had been long watching for it . . .

. . . and began the path that would turn British wizarding society upside-down.

* * *

Beckery Hill, Thursday 31 July 1986 . . .

"Uncle Steve, what's that?!"

Steven Burke was one of the werewolves that lived in the Reevewick Somerset. A forcibly-retired Auror like his pack-leader Nancy Snagge, he was a distant relative of one of the founders of the Borgin and Burkes bookstore in Knockturn Alley, just off Diagon. A firm supporter of the Light -- which had got him thrown out of his family after he had graduated from Hogwarts -- he had been targeted by the forces of the rogue lycan Fenrir Greyback to "punish" him for his "treason against his blood," ruining his life along the way. Nancy had brought Steven to Reevewick Somerset after Voldemort's fall to give him a chance to live and enjoy life. And now that the Wolfsbane potion was available -- and at the Reevewick, free thanks to extra work done on it by Hamilton St. John -- his life was far more easier to enjoy than it had been just four years ago.

He perked on remembering the doll that he had purchased in Diagon -- he and Rose were currently in the village community hall, where Steven was having a butterbeer -- and then he said, "Oh, it's a doll of your brother, Rose."

Silence.

More silence.

Still more silence.

And then . . .

"My brother . . .?"

It was a rare sight to see Rose Potter utterly gobsmacked.

Steven then blinked, quite surprised to see her reaction, and then he blanched as he suddenly recalled what he had just said. Oh, bloody hell! he cursed as he mentally braced himself for the three-way yelling session he would be in for once Hamilton St. John, Nancy Snagge and Lilian Evans found out he had broken the Ultimate Taboo of the Reevewick:

NEVER tell Rose Potter anything about Harry Potter!

"W-well . . . " he then stammered before sighing as he realised it was just too late. "Yes, Rose. You have an older brother. He was born well over a year before your dad died and your mom was badly hurt while she was carrying you. His name is Harry." He waved to the doll he had actually bought for his niece, who lived in Godric's Hollow, whom he always bought birthday presents for. "This is a doll showing what he looked like when he was attacked by Voldemort. He survived what Voldemort tried to do with him. Look for yourself."

Rose blinked several times as her mind tried to wrap around that, and then she blinked as she took the doll off the table and held it close to her as she stared at his face, and then her eyes focussed on the scar -- all doll-makers always included the lightning bolt-shaped scar over the right eye -- where, on the real boy, a Killing Curse had landed and rebounded back on the man who fired it at him. "My brother . . . " she whispered as her eyes began to tear, and then a shudder ran through her. "I have a brother . . . " she said as she moved to hug the doll close to her and then she sniffed before a mixed hurt and angry look then crossed her face. "A brother . . . "

Steven blinked as he watched her. Damn! She's actually taking this pretty good! he mused to himself as he moved to comfort. "Now, it's alright . . .!"

He then stopped on hearing a distant rumbling noise. Seizing his wand, he looked around, quickly seeing that other people were doing the same, many grasping wands or other weapons as they tried to find out where the source of the shaking and rumbling was coming from. Steven then jolted on hearing his half-full bottle of butterbeer explode behind him as the table he sat on quaked. Looking around, he then tensed as his eyes fell on the young girl standing nearby.

A girl whose green eyes were now GLOWING.

Steven felt a lump in his throat. "Oh . . . bloody . . . hell . . . "

* * *

Edinburgh, the Palace of Holyroodhouse . . .

"Her first display of magic?!"

"Her first CLEAR display of magic, Your Majesty," Napaeae Runcorn said as she stared at the Queen, a grin on her face. The Magical Shire Reeve of Cheshire -- and the Acting Magical Shire Reeve of Somerset (until Rose became eleven and could then be made the Magical Shire Reeve [Apparent] of Somerset) -- had come to her Sovereign's main residence in Scotland to brief her on what she had just sensed when she had been at Beckery Hill not an hour before. "From what I've learned from Doctor St. John and Lilian Evans, there may have been a dozen other displays since her fourth birthday."

The Queen took that in, and then she nodded. "Most impressive. If I recall correctly, Napaeae, pre-Hogwarts displays of magic normally occur in times of great stress or great excitement. Was it such a situation with Rose?"

A nod. "I'm afraid so, ma'am. One of the forcibly-retired Aurors who lives there, Steve Burke, had a Harry Potter doll with him he was going to give to his niece in Godric's Hollow for her birthday." A sigh. "Rose now knows about her brother."

"Oh, dear . . . "

"Yes, ma'am."

"Has Major St. John subjected Rose to that new magical ability test that just came out in Germany and seems to be making quite an impression in America?"

A shake of the head. "Not yet, ma'am. But from what I could sense -- and I was in the forest to the east of the Garden of the Galaxy checking the ward boundaries of the Reevewick -- it was quite spectacular." Napaeae sighed. "She got a lot from Glaston."

"So it seems." A nod as the Queen gazed out the window at the outer courtyard of the palace. "Well, I do believe it is time for a family reunion."

Napaeae blinked. "And the Ministry, ma'am? Much less Headmaster Dumbledore?"

The Queen looked over. "Napaeae, does it really matter?"

The younger woman blinked, and then shook her head. "No, ma'am."

A smile. "We will pass on the information once it is obtained from MI6."

Napaeae nodded. With the blood wards Lily had set up to protect Harry, even the Magical Sheriffs now had a hard time tracking him down. "Of course, ma'am."

* * *

Little Whinging, Tuesday 19 August 1986 . . .

"Mama! It looks so plain!"

"Yes, Rose. I know," Lilian mused as she gazed down Privet Drive. Little Whinging was a community on the south side of the Surrey-Berkshire county line to the west of the M-25 south of Ethan and north of the interchange with the M-3. Seeing what was now around her, the human-shaped elf tried not to frown too much as she felt a curse crawl up her throat. Everything around here was so PLAIN! Noting that, Lilian shook her head as she found herself wishing that she had thought of some way to have approached the Queen to retrieve Harry from this place earlier. Still, it had been hard to think of Rose's brother. Like everyone else who lived at Beckery Hill, Lilian had been affected by the after-effects of Lily's sacrifice for Harry; the blood ward-magic had, in many ways, worked just as well as a properly-cast Fidelius charm. Well, now that they were here . . .!

"People who live in these places don't like anything in their lives that goes against what they see as 'normal,'" she added as she beckoned Rose down the street. "And what you -- and your brother -- are like . . . "

"Isn't," Rose finished for her guardian.

Lilian nodded. She then tensed on sensing something from one of the tile-roof brownstones nearby. Turning to walk a couple steps towards it, she then jolted on sensing a powerful magical ward slam into her face. Feeling her body about to revert to her birth-form, Lilian gritted her teeth and firmed her magic before pushing through the ward, finding herself right at the end of the driveway leading onto the property of Number 4 Privet Drive. Blinking for a moment as she got her bearings back, the transformed elf then stared at the house before looking back. "C'mon, Rose."

The young girl walked over to join her. On reaching the ward line, she just walked through it without sensing it there. Noting that, Lilian nodded. Since Rose did share her mother's blood with Harry, she hadn't been affected by the wards now protecting the Dursley home. Pausing a moment to quietly admire what Albus Dumbledore had done with what Lily Potter had left behind by her death at Godric's Hollow (despite the fact that poor Harry had been placed in such a dull-looking neighbourhood!), Lilian could only take a deep breath before walking up to the front door and ring the bell.

Footsteps soon echoed from inside, and then the door opened. "Yes . . .?"

Lilian could only blink on staring at Petunia Dursley, who hadn't aged gracefully since the last time the latter had been anywhere close to Lily Potter. "Hello, Mrs. Dursley," she stated with a smile. "Where is Harry Potter?"

Petunia blinked for a moment as her mind tried to lock in on who was standing before her, and then her skin went totally white before her jaw dropped and a shriek of horror escaped her. Lilian winced before she watched as Petunia's eyes then rolled up into her head and she dropped in a dead faint to the living room floor. As Rose came up to stand beside her guardian, Lilian could only shake her head.

"She took that much better than I expected."

* * *

"Petunia?"

No . . .

"Petunia? Can you hear me?"

No, it's not possible . . .

"Petunia?! Wake up!"

No! He said she was dead . . .!

"PETUNIA!"

Petunia's eyes snapped wide open before they locked on the green-eyed redhead leaning over her. A second later, her brain kicked back in, and then she screamed again, "NO! YOU'RE DEAD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, FREAK?! HOW DARE . . .?!"

A snap of the fingers later, Petunia's lips flipped open and closed, but no sound came out of her. She jolted on sensing her yelling was producing no noise before laughter echoed from somewhere to her right, the direction the stairs to the upper floors. She spun right . . .

. . . to see her nephew -- hadn't she locked him up in his cupboard not an hour ago, after he got finished with the garden?! -- standing there beside a red-haired, green-eyed, bespectacled version of Lily Potter, appearing to be when she had been in the first year of infant school ages ago, dressed in a pinafore with a flower-embossed blouse underneath it. Both were holding hands and smiling -- well, the girl was snickering, while Harry seemed divided between smiling and keeping his face still -- on seeing the older woman flap her gums with no tangible result. After taking a moment to absorb that, Petunia turned to gaze once more upon the living ghost now standing before her, a chill running down her spine.

"That's better," Lilian then said as she crossed her arms. "And don't worry about your husband or your son. Both of them are locked in their bedrooms right now while we have a little chat." She paused to allow Petunia to hear her husband bellowing from somewhere upstairs -- his words echoed with heavy thumps! of flesh ramming into unyielding wood -- and the wails of her son from his own bedroom. As Petunia took that in, she began to quake as she looked back on Lilian . . .

. . . just as all humour disappeared from the latter's face as a look of outrage replaced it, the transformed elf leaning down to glare into Petunia's eyes. "What in the name of the Heavens is to stop me from delivering unto you all the things you've done to Harry a hundred -- No! A THOUSAND! -- fold, Petunia Dursley?!"

Petunia shuddered as she rapidly shook her head, a pleading look crossing her face. "Should I call Uncle Reggie, Mama?" Rose helpfully asked.

"Please do, Rose."

"Okay!"

"Who's Uncle Reggie, Mama?" Harry hesitantly asked. When this girl -- His very own SISTER! He didn't even know he actually HAD a sister! -- had opened the door to his cupboard and walked him out after Lilian vanished all the locks, Rose had told him right then and there that this woman was NOT his mother. But it was okay to call her that.

"He's a very good friend of ours, Harry. He'll like you, too," Lilian said as she smiled at him as Rose reached into her dress pocket to draw out a capped vial of green powder. "And he'll be VERY interested in learning what's happened to you."

If Petunia continued to pale even more, she would be as white as a ghost. Harry blinked as he took that in, and then he nodded as Rose walked to the fireplace. Uncorking the vial, she drew out a long match. She struck it against the brickwork around the fire pit to light it up, and then she held it out sideways in the area over the fire pit before sprinkling the powder over the flame. Instantly, a green flame gushed forth to fill the fireplace as Rose called out, "REEVETOR SURREY!"

"Wow! That's cool!" Harry gasped.

Rose giggled. "It's magic, big brother!"

His jaw dropped. "Really?! But Uncle said . . .!"

Her nose scrunched. "He's a moron, Harry! He lied to you!" Rose glared at Petunia with all the anger a four year-old could deliver onto such an obviously wicked and evil person. "Just like this creep's a moron, too! And their son's a pig!"

Petunia jolted on hearing that insult delivered onto her sweet Dudley, and then she moved to strike down this impudent brat. Before she could get far, a powerful force slammed into her back and made her literally eat the fabric of the sofa she was on. "Sit down and behave," Lilian snarled.

"Who's there?!"

Petunia jolted up, and then she nearly dropped off the sofa as a male face appeared in the magical flames. "Sorry to bother you, Uncle Reggie!" Rose called out into the floo fire, smiling. "It's Rose Potter! Could you come to Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, please?! Mama and I found Harry!"

The man's face seemed to brighten. "Found Harry, you said?! Stand aside!"

Rose backed off, pulling Harry back just as the flames flared, that followed by a very handsome man in his mid-thirties walking out of the fire and stopping in the living room. As Petunia nearly fainted and Harry gaped in awed disbelief at his sudden appearance, he brushed off the bits of magical soot from his quite normal knit sweater -- Don't these freaks wear robes?! Petunia wondered to herself -- and then he nodded pleasantly to Lilian. "Hello, Lilian! I see you and young Rose struck gold! And it wasn't leprechaun's gold, either!" Laughing at his joke, he turned before leaning down, offering his hand to Harry. "And you must be Harry Potter."

Harry blinked, and then he nodded as he reached over to gently take the hand in his own. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said, his voice picking up.

"A pleasure, young man," the older man said as he pulled his hand back, and then reached into the pockets of his slacks to pull out a business card. "My card."

Harry blinked, and then he took the card to read:

Sir REGINALD EBERT SPELTHORNE, Kt

Her Majesty's Magical Shire Reeve of the Loyal County of Surrey, England

Beside it was the Surrey county shield capped with a crown and the letters E II R (the II small and bracketed between the E and the R), two crossed -- wands? -- under it. Since Harry had never seen a coat of arms before, he didn't know what to think of that. Blinking several times as he took that in, he turned to gaze on Rose. "What does this mean?" he asked as he pointed to the card.

"It means he's a Magical Sheriff," Rose answered.

Petunia instantly shook her head rapidly as she tried to make her nephew not listen to what her niece -- Was this freak actually her NIECE?! How on Earth was THAT possible?! -- was saying. Unfortunately, whatever force was keeping her on the sofa, much less stopping her from speaking aloud, was not yielding one bit. Before she could try anything, the just-arrived man in the sweater and trousers spoke up, "What your sister is trying to say, Harry, is that I'm a wizard. Just as she is a witch and you are a wizard, too."

Harry's jaw hit the floor. "I AM?!"

"You indeed are, dear boy," Reginald stated with a nod. "And no, that doesn't mean you can just do those parlour tricks one might see the telly, what fellows like that chap from America -- Copperfield, is his name? -- do to entertain people."

Harry took that in, and then he nodded. "It sounds awesome."

"Indeed, it IS awesome." Reginald then laughed. "It was that way with me when I was notified that I was a wizard when I was eleven back in '67."

Harry blinked. "How did you find out?"

"All eligible wizards and witches get a letter from the nearest magical school -- or a magical school that their parents may have attended should they actually move to other countries -- when it's time for them to start schooling," Lilian explained. "It was that way with your mother when she got her Hogwarts letter in 1971." She ignored Petunia's confused look as the latter spun around to stare at her. "Chances are very good that when the summer of 1991 comes around, you'll get the same thing, Harry."

Harry blinked. "How can you be sure, Mama?"

"Have there been times that something very odd has happened to you, son?" Reginald asked. "Something that no one could explain to you."

The young man paused to consider that fact, and then he stared at the just-arrived wizard. "Aunt Petunia cut all my hair off last year. She didn't like how messy it was. But the next day, it had all grown back." His eyes flicked over to his immobilised aunt, a frown turning his lips. "She didn't like that."

Reginald took that in, and then he hummed as his eyes shifted to gaze on the unmoving Petunia Dursley. Seeing the pale and afraid look on her face, he paused before his magical sight clicked in and he was quick to see something wrapped around the woman like some faint shroud. Drawing out his wand -- to Harry, it looked like a slender stick just over a foot long -- from his right sleeve, he waved it in the air around the room, a faint chant escaping his lips. A moment later, he paused before staring at a lamp at one corner of the room. "My God . . .!" he breathed out as he aimed his wand at it. "Everyone duck!" he ordered. As Rose grabbed Harry and pulled him away and Lilian raised a shield over Petunia, he barked, "REDUCTO!"

A bolt of energy leapt out of the wand tip to smash into the lamp, shattering it instantly. Before anyone could say anything, a silent cry of shock and pain escaped Petunia before she collapsed unconscious on the sofa. That was echoed by twin screams of pain from upstairs. "What on Earth . . .?!" Lilian cried out before she dispelled the restraint field around Petunia, and then she used her elf-sight to scan the fainted woman. "Oh, my God . . . " she breathed out. "Reggie . . .!"

"Calm down, my dear," Reginald stated before leaning into the still-burning fireplace. "Jo!" he called out. "Get your medical gear and come here quickly!"

"What is it?!" a woman's voice called back.

"We've got three normal victims of some sort of curse at Harry Potter's place!"

"Right!"

Harry blinked before he shared a confused look with Rose . . .

* * *

Later . . .

"So they were MADE to be mean to me?!"

"By the looks of it," Lilian stated. The Potter siblings and the transformed elf had shifted themselves to the back porch of the Dursley home. "I won't deny for an instant that when she first learned your mother was a witch, your aunt became quite bitter and resentful towards her and what she could do, eventually thinking of your mother -- and by extension, all wizards and witches -- as 'freaks.' That was passed on to your uncle; I will admit that he did -- and obviously still does -- love and care for her a lot, doing everything he could to make her happy."

"So who did it to them, Mama?" Rose asked.

"Well, that's for Reggie, Hogan, Dame Wilma and Napaeae to find out," Lilian answered. After Joanna Spelthorne had come to 4 Privet Drive with her medical bag, three other Magical Sheriffs -- Wilma Skegness, Napaeae Runcorn and Hogan Roper -- came to assist in the investigation of events at the Dursley home.

The back door then opened. "Harry?"

Harry turned as a downcast Dudley Dursley came out of the house. He was accompanied by two girls their age. Jane Roper, Hogan's second-oldest daughter, was a pretty girl with long blonde hair partially held back with a hair band and blue-grey eyes. Achelois Runcorn, the eldest of Napaeae's three daughters, was a thin girl with an equally thin face framed with cinnamon red-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Both were dressed in normal clothes, just like their parents -- even the elderly Wilma Skegness -- had been when they came to the Dursley home. "What is it, Dudley?"

Dudley blinked before he shrugged. "I dunno. Ms. Skegness, Mrs. Runcorn, Mr. Spelthorne and Mr. Roper are still looking around the house. Doctor Spelthorne's still looking at Mom and Dad." He then stopped as he looked at Achelois, and then at Jane, before turning back to Harry. "Is it true?" he then wondered. "Are you really . . .?"

"A wizard?" Harry finished for his cousin. After Dudley nodded - he was not really sure what to say further about that -- the bespectacled teen considered that for a moment before he shrugged. "I dunno. According to Uncle Reggie, I should be. Remember when your mom cut my hair and it all grew back the next day?" After Dudley paused to think about it before he nodded again, Harry shrugged. "That's all the proof they need."

"Chances are, Harry, you might be a metamorphmagus," Jane noted.

Harry and Dudley blinked while Rose and Lilian exchanged surprised looks. "What is that, anyway?" Harry wondered as he stood up, brushing off the back of his pants from the dust and dirt that was scattered over the back porch.

"It's a wizard or witch who can change shape and become anything they want," Achelois replied. "It's a really, really, really rare power to get. Mom and Grandpa told me that only one in ten thousand wizards get that sort of power."

Dudley blinked. "Wow! You mean Harry's like the Martian Manhunter?!"

"Who's that?!" Rose asked in confusion.

"Comic book hero from America. He can change shape into anything he wants as well as fly and fight like Superman," Achelois replied as she gave Rose a look. "You should try to get out of your tower more often, Rose!" As Napaeae's oldest daughter, Achelois became Rose's first friend outside Beckery Hill. "You're gonna be as bad as the mudbrains who live in Hogsmeade and elsewhere by the time you go to Hogwarts!"

"HEY!" Rose yelped as Jane laughed. "I'm NOT a mudbrain!"

"'Mudbrain?'" Harry asked.

Achelois laughed. "That's the term people made up to describe people like us who live separate from normals like your cousin, Harry."

"What does it mean?" Dudley wondered.

"It means that they don't know anything about normal society. Wizards like that are usually those who have wizard parents and grandparents. They call themselves 'purebloods' because there's nothing 'dirty' in their blood," Jane explained. "My grandma's normal-born; her parents were normal folk like Dudley here. My granddad's a pure wizard, so Mom's a 'half-blood,' like you and Rose are, Harry. Many wizards call folks like Grandma 'muggle-born' if they're nice . . . "

"Or 'mudblood' if they're not," Achelois said with a sneer.

Harry blinked. "Does it really mean anything?"

"No, except that those who say they're 'pure' always think they're better than everyone else," Achelois stated, shaking her head. "Which is really dumb!"

"It is, indeed," Lilian stated.

"Are you a witch, Auntie?" Dudley asked. Since Harry and Rose -- his cousins -- called this person "mama," she had to be related to Petunia.

The older-looking woman shook her head. "No, Dudley. This is what I am."

Dudley and Harry blinked, and then their jaws dropped as Lilian changed into her birth-form. Atop losing over a metre of height, her jeans and button blouse transformed into a beautiful black robe with the coat of arms of the County of Somerset on her cape over her heart, the Royal Cypher of Queen Elizabeth II over it and crossed duelling wands underneath. That, of course, didn't count the changes to her head and face when she returned to her elf-form. Harry and Dudley gaped while Rose, Jane and Achelois all laughed, and then both boys breathed out, "Wicked!"

"What are you?!" Harry demanded.

Lilian smiled. "I'm what's called a 'house elf,' Harry. We're a race of domestic servants that normally serve wizards and witches in their homes and places of business. I was bonded to the man who saved your sister's life before she was born, then became bonded to her after she was born." She then shifted back to human form, her clothes going back to normal. "And I made myself look like this so that Rose, as she was growing up, would have a human face around her." A shrug. "These days, I stay so much in human form that going back to being an elf really feels weird."

"Our elves are the same way," Jane added. She then clapped her hand. "Tanny!"

"She won't come," Achelois warned.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Uncle Reggie put up a county-wide block to prevent anyone from apparating, flooing or popping in anywhere in Surrey," Achelois said.

Harry's jaw dropped. "He can do that?!"

"Any Magical Sheriff can," Rose stated.

Harry took that in, and then he breathed out, "Wow . . . "

* * *

"So you're saying that it was my brother-in-law that did this to us?!"

"Exactly, Petunia," Napaeae replied as the adults relaxed in the living room. The shattered lamp -- it had been a present from the Potters to the Dursleys at their wedding in 1978 -- had been vanished and tea had been made to allow Vernon and Petunia to relax after they had the magical charms and curses lifted from them. "I was a year-mate to both James and Lily. He always hated what she told him about how you treated her while you were growing up. And given what a prankster he was when he was in Hogwarts . . . "

"He probably felt that it would be poetic to ensure we would always hate and fear those of your kind," Vernon said before he sipped his tea. Like his wife, a look of anguished guilt was on his face, though he was trying to present a brave face. When the charms had been lifted from her, Petunia had broken down and cried, screaming out Lily's name and begging her forgiveness before Joanna had been able to get a calming draft into her to make her relax. "Pity he never thought about what might have happened to him and his wife with this Volde- . . . what was his name again?!"

"Voldemort," Wilma -- a woman who reminded the Dursleys a lot of Arabella Figg -- stated. "His real name is Thomas Riddle; he was a first year in my final year there." A shake of the head. "Such a bitter man, he was, even before he went dark and started changing himself like he did."

"It's amazing, Dame Wilma, that you're still alive since you remember him so well," Reginald stated as everyone gazed on the older witch.

A snort. "I became the Magical Sheriff of Lincolnshire just after I passed my NEWTs in '39," Wilma stated. "Even if Tom did remember me, he would have had no way to track me down to kill me just to keep me silent over his connection to Voldemort." She sipped her tea. "Still surprises me that Albus never let that go public."

"Let what go public?" Petunia wondered.

"That Voldemort is a 'half-blood' like Harry and Rose," Wilma answered. "Even stranger, Riddle is of 'less' pure blood than even your nephew and niece would be considered by the fanatics that later flocked to his standard back in the Seventies; his father was a normal, not a normal-born wizard." A snort. "If that had got out, a lot of the pureblood lunatics like Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange would have turned on him sooner or later. That would have put a stop to a lot of things."

"Unless they knew and didn't care," Napaeae noted.

"Is this fellow still alive?" Vernon asked.

Their guests all sighed. "We don't know," Hogan answered. "The chances are there that some part of Riddle might still be alive. If he was truly dead, the Dark Marks -- it's a magical tattoo Riddle's followers wear on their arm -- would have vanished altogether. From those I've seen, it's faded, but still present."

Petunia nodded. "That was in the letter."

"What letter?" Joanna asked.

"The letter Dumbledore left with Harry," Petunia answered. "He stated that part of the reason he wanted to leave Harry with us was that he was afraid that man's people might come by to try to kill Harry. And, by extension, us."

Reginald hummed. "Well, that's easily solved."

"What do you mean?" Vernon wondered.

A sigh. "Vernon, you and Petunia are the victims of a crime that is often called 'muggle baiting.' Were we Aurors -- police officers, in other words -- of the Ministry of Magic, it wouldn't sometimes even be considered a crime. Atop that, the man who did this to you has been dead for five years. Still, I believe that, even if you both feel a lot of guilt over what you were forced to do to Harry, you would prefer not to have anything to do with people like us in the future. Correct?"

The adult Dursleys blinked, and then exchanged a look for a moment before turning back to the Magical Sheriff of Surrey. "Well, if all of your kind were like you people, we wouldn't mind it so much," Vernon stated, shrugging. "Let's just say that all of James' friends really didn't leave much of a good impression on us."

"Sadly, people like us are in the minority," Wilma warned before she stared intently at the younger wizard. "What do you have in mind, Reginald?"

"Turn Little Whinging into a complete magical dead zone."

Napaeae, Joanna, Hogan and Wilma took that in, and then they nodded. The Dursleys both perked. "What do you mean by that?" Petunia asked.

"What I mean, Petunia, is that once I'm done setting up some very powerful wards all around the village, there will be NO way that any wizard could come here to attack any of you," Reginald stated. "Their magic would be rendered totally powerless. No apparation (our version of self-teleportation), no portkeys (that's teleporting with a device magically charged to move people from place to place), no flooing (using the fireplaces to move from place to place) or even flying in on brooms, much less any wand use or even wandless magic." He then savagely grinned. "And I would be the one who would control the keys to those wards."

"Would people like Dumbledore try to stop it?" Vernon demanded.

A shake of the head. "No, he would not. Certainly, he would be very concerned as to what will happen to Harry, but even he doesn't have the power to override anything I do in my capacity as one of Her Majesty's Magical Shire Reeves."

"All wizards in this land -- even if they don't realise it -- are bound by oaths to the Crown," Wilma added. "Either those they made themselves (if they were normal-borns like your sister-in-law) or made by their ancestors."

Reginald nodded. "There's a squib that lives nearby: Arabella Figg . . . "

The Dursleys perked. "She babysits Harry from time to time!" Petunia exclaimed. "You mean to say she's actually one of your kind?!"

"She was born to a wizarding family, but she has no magic," Napaeae stated. "It happens from time to time, especially with those purebloods who marry close relations."

"Inbreeding, you mean," Vernon stated. On seeing their guests nod, he could only snort in derision. "My sister Marge always says that's the stupidest thing you could ever do to dogs. It makes them weak and useless. It's the same with people."

Nods around the room. "Well, I know there's a floo connection between Mrs. Figg's home and Hogwarts, so Albus might have been the one to send her down," Reginald stated. "I doubt she spotted Lilian and Rose; I would have sensed it through the Shield if she tried to make a floo call to Albus." A sigh. "And once I get the wards in place to disable all magic in Little Whinging, she'll never be able to do it again."

"So we won't have to worry about Dumbledore again, right?" Vernon asked.

"Exactly."

"But what about Harry?" Petunia wondered.

A sigh. "Wizarding law states that whenever a wizard loses his parents, he must be turned over to the custody of any living next of kin. If there are no magical relatives, it is permitted for normal relatives to take a child in. Thus, in Harry's case, he came to you," Wilma stated. "In the eyes of the Ministry, there can be no exceptions. However, we, as Magical Sheriffs answerable only to Her Majesty the Queen, are allowed to declare orphaned children like Harry as 'Magical Wards of the Crown.' Rose is in that position right now. Besides . . . " She then nodded in the direction of the back patio, where the children still were with Lilian. "Do you want to try to separate them now?"

"No, we don't," Vernon stated, a tired sigh escaping him. "Even if all of you say that what happened between us and Harry isn't our fault, the guilt of what we did . . . " He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. "I, for one, pray that I will never have to answer for it when I pass on to the next life. All I ask now is this, Dame Wilma: Will Harry be happy and safe if he goes to live with his sister?"

The Magical Sheriffs in the room all laughed. "Oh, yes!" Napaeae stated. "Believe me, Vernon, by the time Harry gets his Hogwarts letter, he will be more than ready to face whatever the wizarding world can throw at him."

"Even a reborn Tom Riddle," Wilma added . . .

* * *

Sometime later . . .

"Just a minute, please." The door then opened to reveal a woman appearing to be in her mid-fifties, dressed in quite plain clothes, her hair done up in a hairnet and tartan-pattern slippers on her feet. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Arabella Figg?" Reginald Spelthorne asked.

"Yes?"

A business card was handed over. Taking it, the woman gazed on what was written there, and then she blinked on reading the notation under the man's name. Turning to gaze with confusion into his eyes, she then asked, "Are you an Auror?"

"No, Madame, I am not," Reginald stated as he drew his wand from his sweater. "I am a loyal servant of the Crown charged by Her Majesty the Queen to protect all beings -- magical and non-magical alike -- within the borders of the Loyal County of Surrey to the best of my ability. Because of that -- and because of what I just discovered at 4 Privet Drive -- I'm here now to ask you some questions concerning what the devil is a squib doing living here. Acting as Harry Potter's babysitter when Albus Dumbledore seems to have done everything he could to cut Harry off from the wizarding world in the years leading up to when he goes to Hogwarts." His eyes narrowed. "And if you value whatever connections you still have with your parents' society, Mrs. Figg, you will explain EVERYTHING to me. Do you understand me?"

Arabella blinked before her face began to pale. "What about Harry?"

"What of him?"

"Will he be safe?" She then nodded towards Privet Drive, disgust crossing her face. "The Dursleys?"

Reginald blinked, and then he sighed, crossing his arms. "He will be safe from them for the rest of his life," he calmly stated. "Even more so, they will be safe from all wizards who will wish them harm because they are Harry's relatives. Not to mention everyone else in Little Whinging." He then smiled. "Including you, I might add."

Arabella took that in, and then she relaxed. "Please come in, sir."

He nodded as he followed her inside . . .

* * *

To be continued . . .